Ain't No Warrior

I don't care what anybody says, all men like to think of themselves as warriors. Guys want to pretend that firing up their X Box or playing golf on the weekend gets them in touch with their aggression. I can buy that some if you're talking about blood sports maybe, but even killing a deer ain't much of a sport when you're using a rifle and scope.

Mountain bikers like to think of themselves that way. Ever seen a couple of Sport Class dudes scream at each other at a mountain bike race? It's quite a sight. With all that weekend warrior testosterone oozing from their chubby pores, the antics of a 15 mile mountain bike race can set a dude on fire. Cut em' off on the trail or worse yet, be some unlucky slower chick blocking Joe Racer's path to glory and you're gonna hear it!

All dudes think they're warriors. Me included. But the truth is I ain't no Mickey Ward. I'm the dude who ducks under the table in a bar fight. I can get amped up for a race, though. I've talked wild shit because of it. One year I told everybody all summer that I was going to win the Wilderness 101. Instead I got schooled by Mike Keefer and Skip Brown and ended up just far enough back not to make it into the Wilderness Wiki. I ain't no warrior.

Last weekend I found myself on the line at the Stony Creek marathon. Still too far out of shape to line up with the big dogs in elite. But I hadn't lost any Expert races yet this year. Three laps in and right on the tail of some dude who should have been racing in Elite I went down on a wood boardwalk and hit my ass so hard I almost crapped myself right there on the trail. At the three lap mark (halfway) I bailed.

DNF!

The little lady pulled off a good one, though. Maybe she's the warrior.