Crazy stories are always a highlight of the Test weekend. Like the fella with a major head wound, couldn’t remember his name or what he had for breakfast but still managed to keep peddling and finish the course. Or the chap who broke his bike in half and ran the last hour carrying his bike. The best story I have from the weekend is a variation on the classic post plunge leg cramps.
Oh sure, you hear and sometimes see the suffering, but as they say there’s no substitute for actually feeling the paralyzing effect of crippling pain seizing your legs. The unique part wasn’t the searing pain but rather the moment after I realized I was going down I exclaimed “I’m done”. It was then I looked to see where I was falling and noticed not the spiky gravel I had anticipated but rather a large rottweiler with a muzzle. The insanity of that scenario was quickly forgotten as three angels immediately descend on me massaging my legs, feeding me water and encouraging me to get back on the saddle. Huge thanks must also be bestowed upon the super fans giving strugglers a helping push up that horrible hill.
On the other end of the spectrum was the scariest part of the race half way up nine mile hill. Right at the infamous Bonk hill riders were faced with an unintentionally surprising sight. There, in the middle of nowhere, pointing to our prized trail network was a real estate company’s open house sign. Many riders were heard commenting on the heartbreaking thought that yet another trail network was about to be condos. It was soon obvious that this was simply a fantastic sponsor’s good intentions gone arye and (hopefully) not the depressing sign of development vs. trail fights to come.
But that’s more politics than biking, which is apropos of our current predicament as we bounce directly from the Test to a municipal by-election. The timing of which could not be worse since we now have to convince our completely distracted friends to get off their lethargic civic asses and go vote on a sunny Saturday.
It’s a shame that one of the most important elections in Squamish’s history will be decided by so few. But that’s the way things work in summer by-elections and we must make a decision with Vegas odds having Ted and Greg neck and neck at the finish line. It’s really too bad there can be only one with more than a couple candidates running who would make fine councilors. Always being a fan of young upstarts, I sincerely hope the depressingly low youth turnout (prove me wrong ya punks!) doesn’t sour David Clarkson from running again. And Spencer Fitschen’s refreshing common sense and fine campaigning (note “Quit yer bitchen vote for Fitschen” sticker) will have him a serious contender in two years.
So place your bets people. Tomorrow we find out which way the council scale will tip. As always, may Squamish win.