The following is a true story, only the names have been changed, to protect the guilty.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Ragnarok 111 (90) 2011

I really wasn't feeling the Rag this year as well as Mark V so we decided to just ride it together. At about 60 miles Mark was calling uncle after a very large climb and fighting to stay with our group since the start of the race. We were doing pretty well when we decided to pull the plug at 60 miles. We didn't realize it would be over 30 miles more riding to get back to the truck. I hate quitting and very very rarely do so. On our way back we crossed a road that intersected the race course. Adding salt to a wound we passed the very same group of riders we had parted ways with 45 minutes earlier. One of them being a bonafide DBD member. Facing head on as he passed by I could feel the lazer beam like stare piercing my soul. Failure! I could do nothing but hang my head as I watched him ride away along with all my hopes and dreams of ever becoming a member of the society I so wished to be part of.

On a lighter note we did have a good relaxing ride back to the truck which included some stops and some sightseeing. We found a great fixer-upper camper that was washed up on shore of the Zumbro River. I'm going back for it when I have about 1000 hours to dedicate for it's restoration.