News: 24 Hours of BOOM

Well, I guess it’s time…24-hours-of-Summer-Solstice-1140x300

Earlier this season, it was time for Team Colin to do the full marathon distance in a Substance Projects XC Marathon race, so I did it.  50k at the H2i.  Here’s the link: Homage to Ice.

Then it was time for Team Colin to do the full Paris to Ancaster distance, so I did it.  70k at P2A.  Here’s the link: Paris to Ancaster.

Then, since I did those two races, I figured it was time for Team Colin to do two more marathon distance races in the the XC Marathon, so I did.  70k at the LSC (here’s the link: Long Sock Classic), and 74k at the Humbler (here’s the link:  Northumberland Humbler).

All of those races went fairly well (and by fairly well I mean to say that I didn’t die), so I figured it was time for Team Colin to do the full Singletrack Classic, and I did.  44k. Here’s the link:  Singletrack Classic.

But I never thought it was time for Team Colin to do the 24 Hours of Summer Solstice.  It has never been my thing:

  • It was too much time away from my family
  • It just seemed too big and busy of a race
  • I wasn’t ready to do it solo (and figured I’d only be able to ride a few laps if I was on a team)
  • Really, nobody ever asked me

You see, while I have a bunch of riding friends and people that I ride with on a regular basis (hey John, love ya buddy), I don’t have a formal MTB squad.  You know, a group of regular riders who send weekly texts saying “Dude, where are we riding this weekend?”.

Anyway, I just wasn’t interested in doing the race, and I didn’t think it was time.

But the universe thought it was time, and the universe spoke to me loud and clear.

Here’s what happened.  We’re going to travel back in time 6 days.  I hope I don’t wake up on a planet of apes.  Or worse, a planet with a pumpkin-faced idiot in charge of a launch button…

Saturday, June 18, 2017. Scarborough Ontario, My Bed, 5:38AM

I woke up early and couldn’t fall asleep.  It was about 5:30, and while I was tossing and turning, and replaying favourite rides (what, don’t you do that too) I started thinking about Chico Racing’s 24 Hours of Summer Solstice race.  The race had never even appeared on my radar in the past, and I don’t know why it did at 5:38 on a Saturday morning when I should have been sawing giant logs, but I started to think that it was time to start wondering about considering pondering the possibility of whether I should perhaps try to look into exploring the idea that maybe I should think about doing the race year next year.  Or the year after.

Honestly, I don’t know what sparked the idea, but it stuck.  I started thinking that maybe it’d be fun, or maybe I’d do it solo like Riot on Racing does, or maybe someday I’d be in a cool MTB squad and get a text that said “Dude, let’s do the 24 Hour”…

I fell back asleep and snagged an extra half hour of much needed beauty sleep, while visions of the race–and the sweet blog post that I’d be able to write if I ever did it–pedaled by…

And then things got a bit weird.  I woke up at 8:00, stumbled out of bed, and waited for my knees to start bending while I walked downstairs to eat.  By the 9th step I stopped walking like a drunken baby, but that wasn’t the weird part.

The weird part happened after my morning constitutional.  “Constitutional” is a classy way to say I peed.  You know, because I’m classy that way.

I checked my phone.  It was Saturday morning and I was waiting for my MTB squad to text…  I’m kidding.  No squad.

A few Facebook notifications and Instagram whatevers, some work email to ignore, and a message on the Team Colin Yahoo mail account.  “Who is contacting me on the Team Colin Yahoo account?” I thought.  “Nobody ever uses the Team Colin Yahoo account…”

Well, My buddy, Geoff Simpson contacts me on the Team Colin Yahoo account (actually this was his first time, but you get the idea).  Geoff does the King Weekly Series with me.  He’s a boss rider, and a cool guy.

Get to the weird point Colin…

Okay, here it is.  Geoff’s message said “Dude, let’s ride this weekend”…  No it didn’t. I’m not in his squad.


Geoff’s message was better.  Geoff’s message said

“I know it is short notice, but are you available next weekend?   We are looking for an extra rider for our 24 hour team.   I know it is exam report card time and short notice but just wondering if you are interested?”

WOHOO. Team Colin has a MTB squad.  Okay, not yet.  Breathe Team Colin, he hasn’t asked you to be on his squad, he only asked about the 24 Hour.

So I stopped doing my happy dance and replied to his message.  It was a good thing I stopped dancing.  My kids were already up, and the sight of daddy doing the happy dance in his underwear, with morning hair, and still numb knees wasn’t pretty. Sorry kids.  Daddy is lame.  Click on that link.

My response to Geoff was a resounding YES–although in the coolest and most blase way (I didn’t want to sound too eager, lest he dismiss me from his squad without a chance).   You see, I don’ t know much, but I know this:  when the universe speaks, Team Colin listens.

So, on Saturday, June 25, I’m doing the 24 Hours of Summer Solstice, because there is no way I am going to pass up on the chance to be epic.

And I know something else too.  If you’re going to be, JUST BE EPIC.

And that’s what I’m going to do.  Just.  Be.  Epic.

  • I’m looking forward to the community and camaraderie
  • I’m looking forward to my first kick at night riding, alone, in the woods (okay, I’m not)
  • I’m looking forward to being scared in the woods (what, I’m delicate and things that go bump–or worse scratch–in the night give me the willies)
  • I’m looking forward to connecting with the billion riders who I usually meet at races
  • I’m looking forward to playing bikes, along with a few thousand other bike minded people for 24 hours of awesome, solstice-cracking, awesome-being, cycling goodness
  • I’m looking forward to the challenge, and the fun, and the whatever
  • I’m looking forward to pedaling waaaaaay out of my comfort zone

Like I said, I don’t know what to expect, but I expect to be surprised, and if I’ve realized anything on this biking journey, I’ve realized that when you listen to the universe, things always work out in the best of ways.

24 Hours of Summer Solstice, here I come–be gentle with me.

Oh, and to the guys on Billy Biker and the Kickstands, I’m sorry for, well, me. Whatever Geoff said about me to get you to agree to have me on your team is probably a lie.  I’ll do my best, but no promises.

24 Hours of BOOM.



PS.  I don’t know where the Team Colin Support Vehicle (okay, it’s just my family RV with the letters “TEAM COLIN” on the rear bumper) will be parked, but if you see me, say hi.  There are ALWAYS popsicles (and sometimes freezies) in the freezer.  For the 24 Hour, there might even be Revelos and ice cream bars.  Team Colin loves iced treats.

UPDATE (Friday night).  I’m at a birthday party for my daughter.  She wanted beef burritos from Taco Bell.  Her twelve tween guests weren’t fans.  To make a long story short, I will have 20 beef burritos in the Team Colin Support Vehicle as well.  I’ll be campsite # something, in the Rustling Brook Campground.  I’ll update the Team Colin Facebook page when I land.


45. Humbler TC: 17

It Was the Best of Times, it Was the Bester of Times.

74k later and still smiling (photo courtesy of Dan Emsley)

Northumberland Forest.  Coburg, Ontario:  The 2017 Substance Projects Northumberland Humbler.

74 kilometres.

That’s the same as driving from the CN Tower to Barrie.  Well, 20k south of Barrie. 74,000 metres of singletrack, double track, old trails, new trails, fire road, access road, this side of the road, that side of the road, back to this side of the road again…  We even did a few sliart. That’s trails spelled backward.  You know, because we rode some of the trails in reverse.

1,400m of climbing.

That’s as tall as, well something really tall.

It was my favourite race EVER.

Let me say it again.  The Northumberland Humbler was, by far, my favourite race ever.


Here’s why:

  • I actually started, raced, and finished my longest MTB race ever.  74k of BOOM.
  • It capped a two month spree of epic race awesomeness.  7 big races in 9 weekends, plus 5 weekly series races.  BOOM times 7, plus 5, divided by 9.
  • Northumberland Forest is one of my favourite places to ride–AND we got to try a new trail AND, a whole bunch of it was backwards.  MOOB (same joke as above)
  • I nailed a spot on the podium:  3rd place Clydesdale (and so what if there were only three Clydesdales and I was actually 2nd last place overall).  A podium finish is a podium finish.  One third of a BOOM.
  • I got to see my favourite biking sub-community:  the folks at Substance Projects.  A big Dan Marshall BOOM.
  • 18920700_10209226156674300_7681548033660034964_n
    Jeff Shikaze, Team Colin, and Hair (photo courtesy of Jeff Shikaze)

    And, after almost five hours of sweating in a helmet, there isn’t a single hair out of place. Thanks to my race photographer and Fatbike God, Jeff Shikaze for the shot, and thanks to great hair product. L’Oreal BOOM.

  • Honestly, if you peel everything away (the challenge, the exhaustion, the poison ivy all over my legs…) the Humbler was just a big boss, 4 hour and 48 minute long, rip (although it was considerably less time for the rest of the riders…).  Bike playing BOOM.

I’m not saying it was easy, because it wasn’t, but honestly, it wasn’t that tough either.  I started strong and with a smile on my face, I was still grinning at the halfway point, and I finished strong, with a bigger smile on my face.  This race is a very stark contrast to the desolation and hopelessness (yes, actual desolation) I felt for the ENTIRE Long Sock Classic. Very stark indeed.  While the LSC was my toughest race ever, the Humbler was the funnestest.

You might think funnestest isn’t a word, but if you raced the Humbler, you would know exactly what I’m talking about.

I still can’t believe we did it.  I still can’t believe Team Colin rode a full marathon distance, on a single speed, and it didn’t kill us.  Didn’t kill us?  Pfft.  Actually, I felt almost good at the end of the race.

The Humbler marked the end of a nine weekend racing spree that covered a good chunk of Ontario’s finest bike trails, a bunch of different riding disciplines, and almost 450k of race-pace, white-knuckle, maximum heart rate, riding…

Wait, what’s this about 9 weekend epic racing spree?

Well, from April 9th to June 3rd I raced almost every MTB race within 2 hours of my house.  Here’s my Facebook post from the day after the Humbler:

8 weeks
9 weekends
7 big races
5 weekly series races
3 shots on the podium
Over 7,000m of climbing (um, that’s almost Mt. Everest)
Just under 450k of racing (and almost half of it on a single speed)


  1. Steaming Nostril (April 9);
  2. Homage to Ice (April 15);
  3. Paris to Ancaster (April 30);
  4. O Cup #2 in Kingston (May 7);
  5. Long Sock Classic (May 20);
  6. Singletrack Classic (May 27);
  7. Northumberland Humbler (June 3).

Oh, and five King Weekly Series races.

And yes, I know Team Colin really isn’t that good of a rider, and I know there are so many riders who are way more epically awesome than me (they ride longer, faster, harder, and better, and their results are way better than mine–like waaaaaaaaay better), and because of that, there’s usually no shortage of self deprecation on my blog.

But not today.

Nope.  Because Team Colin is now sort-of-in-a-periphery-way-kinda-almost-maybe-close-to-being in the same league as the big kid MTBers.

Not really, but almost sort of.  Um, why do I keep referring to myself Team Colin?

And even though I’m not the traditional (okay, actual) definition of epic MTB awesomeness, I always place first because I’m not racing THEM, I’m racing ME.  Although saying that, I also know that if I’m the “only person in the race”, I also place last, but that’s not the point I’m making right now.  Right now, I feel good about my riding, and I want to hold onto it for a while longer.  Besides, if you’ve ever seen my results, you know there’s plenty of opportunity for me to feel crappy about my riding.

You know, I feel better than just good.  For the first time in my racing career, I feel kinda badass.  No, I feel wickedly badass. As I wrote in blog #38, this season, I stopped QUALIFYING each race, and I started OWNING each race: The full P2A, the full Singletrack Classic, and three marathons (on a single speed)!  So cool.

By the way, I didn’t start racing the marathon distances because I COULD, I started racing the marathon distances because I wanted to see if I could.  The rationale and mindset leading to that decision is for another blog post, because now it’s time for a Race Report.

Race Report.  Northumberland Humbler:  Northumberland Forest (June 3, 2017)

The race started with the Humbler’s standard quick blast out of the start, and a rip up a moderate double track climb.  There was a short rider snag at the first bit of sand, but then we were up the hill, and immediately into the sweet singletrack goodness that makes Northumberland my favourite place to ride:  long stretches of fast and flowy singletrack, awesomely railed berms, and sweet MTB awesomeness at every tree, root, rock, and stalk of poison.  For anyone familiar with the trails, we took the Hogsback bypass, which winds, in the gruntiest way, around the actual Hogsback. The bypass skirts a giant climb, but that doesn’t mean it’s gentle.  It’s almost 2k of continual output, which took us to the 5k mark.  Once at the top of that climb, I knew we didn’t have a significant climb for a long time.  The next 15k was a blur of more awesomely flowing singletrack, speedy climbs, and long descents (that always seemed to end in a 90 degree turn).  At the first aid station, I took a minute to recover with Liz, who was being assisted by Dan Elmsly, and then we we crossed the street for a quick zip alongside a pioneer stone wall (the fun new part).

At approximately 20k (across the road from the parking lot) the race transported us to Ganaraska Forest for a long haul.  Yeah, the Northumberland Forest actually becomes the Ganny for a while.  No it doesn’t, but it sure feels like it.  On that side of the road, the trails morph from the fun Northumberland vibe to the raw Ganaraska vibe.  While the trails leading into Stonewall (the fun new part) were awesome, the trails leading away from Stonewall (the fun new part) are a mean, raw and grunty mesh of tight and twisty, rocky and rooty trail that’s better suited for its intended use as motocross track instead of a mountain bike race.  It wasn’t a walk in the park, but that’s okay, because I wasn’t walking, and I had my bike.  By the time we were back on “this side” of the road, we were spent.

Fortunately, there were a few FAST stretches of trail that led to a faster switchback climb, and down to the START/FINISH line.

I hit the START/FINISH for a quick recovery before heading out onto the trails for a repeat.

Even though I felt strong, the first part of the second lap was the hardest.  I knew what lay ahead, and I knew it was still 35k until I could stop pedalling, and I knew the pain had to kick in eventually.

However, surprisingly, the pain didn’t really kick in.  On the other side of the road, just after Stonewall (the fun new part) at the 65k mark, the race became a slog, but I knew it was only 10k of lousy-ness, so I counted the metres until it ended.

And it did.  I hit the aid station for a get-off-a-bike-stretch-and-drink, before the last 5k, and a few minutes later, I finished my longest MTB race.

Smiling.  Grinning.  I was even ready to do another lap.  I’m kidding.  I was sore and tired, and I think I would have had a temper tantrum if I had to get back on my bike, but I’m not kidding about my smile.  It was an ear to ear, open mouthed, sweaty and spent, dirt-caked and trail-grimy, poop eating grin.  True story:  On the drive home, I was smiling so much that I felt like my cheeks were actually going to cramp.

End of Race Report.

So that’s it.  I rode hard, I felt strong, and I did it.

Enter a caption

These marathon distances are tough, but after three of them in four weeks, I feel like they’re now well within my realm of possibility.  I’m not good at them, but I can still finish.

I should rephrase that.  I’m not good at them YET.

It was an awesome day from start to finish–and I even won a set of pedals (courtesy of Bateman’s Cycle).

After the race, when the podium was finished, and most racers left, Team Colin relaxed for a post race chat/popsicle with my pal Raf (from Fatboy Nation), and the Emsleys (from Awesometon–totally a real place).  Dan Emsley gave me a bear roast to cook when I got home.  Yes, an actual bear roast.  That night, I roasted it, and Team Colin sampled Haliburton’s best.

Seriously though, what’s with me always referring to myself in the third person?

With all the fresh bear meat in my belly, I felt like I was Nick Emsley, and without even knowing it, I roared “I AM TEAM COLIN”.  It was kind of primal.  Maybe it was the fresh bear.  Maybe not.  Either way, I immediately thought “Were the heck did that come from, and what’s with this third person thing?”

And then it dawned on me.  I. AM. TEAM. COLIN.  Say that like Jean Luc Picard telling Gul Madred “There.  Are.  Four.  Lights.”  It sounds way more boss.  It’s not the epic bike racing spree, or the bike love, or the positivity, or anything else that makes me Team Colin.  It’s not even the hats (although they are pretty sweet).  It’s a feeling deep down in my belly–a primal fire in my belly–that makes me who I am, and I am totally digging it.

There are four lights, and I am Team Colin.



Now THAT’S a big podium… (photo courtesy of Jenn Kennedy/Mike Orsan)

Post race update.  During the race, one of the lead riders was hurt.  Three of the leaders, Nick Emsley, Rick Landry, and Seth Stewart, stopped to help.  The three of them are awesome.  I can only imagine how tough it was for the three of them to step out of race mode to help a fellow rider–and Nick Emsley is 18 years old.  These racers demonstrated a remarkable level of fellowship.  I don’t know Jeff and Seth, but Nick sure made me proud to know him and his family.  Nice work Nick.  You’re an example for the rest of us.

To Jeff, Seth, and Nick, the three of you are the undisputed Humbler winners.

If you have something to say about the race, or anything else, comment on this blog, or send an email to:




44. Singletrack Classic ’17

The 2017 Singletrack Classic:  I AM TEAM COLIN.

Last Saturday wasn’t just my fourth time doing the Singletrack Classic, it was my first time doing the FULL DISTANCE (44k), and it was my fourth time TANKING the Singletrack Classic.

team-colin-single-track-classic.jpgI’ve never had good luck at the race. Never.  But, year after year, I bring my game face and the hope “this will be my year…”.  I figure somehow it’ll turn around.

Once again, for the fourth time in a row, nope.

It’s not my fault, and it’s no fault of race or organizer.  It’s not the fault of the trails, or my bike, or Hardwood Hills, but the Singletrack Classic is my race nemesis.  My experiences in prior years were:

  • “Aw c’mon, it can’t be broken!”
  • “Aw, dang it”
  • “Meh”
  • “AW, DOUBLE DANG IT!!!”.

My first year racing the Singletrack Challenge (it wasn’t the Classic at that time) was 2013. Actually, it wasn’t.  I broke my arm three days before the race, while I was taking a last training ride.

“Aw c’mon, it can’t be broken!  Hopefully I’ll get to do it next year” I thought.

So, my first year actually racing the Singletrack Challenge (still wasn’t the Classic) was in 2014.  I didn’t have a broken arm, but my buddy was peeing when the race started, and we missed the start by a few minutes. Then, I spent the first 15 minutes sprinting to catch the pack, which burned ALL of my matches.

“Aw, dang it!  Maybe next year” I thought.

The second year, 2015,  was a RE-race.  I wanted to experience the full–and punctual–joy of 22k of secret and reverse trails.  However, it was not to be.  My notes in 2015 say, I never really felt like I hit a sweet groove.  I tried and tried, but I never actually felt like I was racing it.

“Meh.  Maybe next year” I thought.

The third year, 2016, was a RE-RE-race.  I was finally going to get it right.  However, I got to Hardwood Hills late, only to discover that my free hub was thrashed, which meant I spent the race pedalling gently because I was afraid cranking it would strip the hub and send me over the bars.  Also, I went to the race in an almost catatonic state because I had a really brutal work schedule in the weeks leading up to the race.   So much for a RE-RE-race.

“AW, DOUBLE DANG IT!!!  Maybe next year” I thought.

This year was a RE-RE-RE-race, and I was going to make it a good one.

Of course, it was my 6th big race in 8 weeks (plus 4 weekly series romps), so good luck if I was hoping for fresh legs…  Pfft.  Whatever.  I felt strong and I had actually recovered from the Substance Projects Long Sock CLassic a week before (a sweet 70k on my single speed).  Seriously, if I could manage 70k without gears, 40k WITH GEARS should be a snap.

Okay, maybe the word “recovered” from the race is a bit strong.  I was “mostly” recovered.

To recap:  44k…22 gears…sort-of recovered legs.  But as they say “4th time’s a charm”. This year would be MY year.  A chance for redemption, and a kick at the long course. What could go possibly go wrong…

Let me cut to the chase:  I was late, so I missed the start AGAIN, I broke 3 spokes about 6k into the race (resulting in a frame rubbing wobble for the duration), and someone stole my sunglasses.

Yeah, so that’s nice.

On the plus side, the race was true to the promised 44k of spectacular singletrack, my legs weren’t nearly as tired as I thought they’d be, the increased distance wasn’t a problem, and I didn’t think/say/feel “meh” once.

Race Report.  Singletrack Classic:  Hardwood Hills (May 25, 2017)

The race started with a pant and a gasp.

Off the start, the Singletrack Classic has a deceptively long, and genuinely sapping doubletrack climb.  Because of the length of it (almost 2k), and BECAUSE I MISSED THE START FOR THE FOURTH YEAR IN A ROW, I spent the first 10 minutes clawing my way through the course.  My lungs were tight, my legs were rubbery, and I couldn’t find a good pace.   One word:  Ugh.

Some other words:  “When does this climb end?  Oh, there’s the top.  Nope, there’s more.”  “Pant pant pant.”, and “Gasp gasp, GASP PANT GASP”.

About 15 minutes into the race, I caught Angie Emsley.  She paces me in every race that we do together (and she’s also trying the big kid distance races this year).  We rode together gently for a few minutes, until I finally felt warmed up and ready to rock.

I increased my pace.

“Tink…tink………KTLINK”.  A few minutes after leaving Angie, three spokes snapped. It only took a few minutes to tape the broken spokes to the others (so they wouldn’t coil into my cassette like they did last year at the Kingston XCM), but the spokes were beside each other and the resulting warp was giant, so I spent the rest of the race looking like I was trying to scratch my bum on my seat.

Okay, so between the late start, and taco wheel wobble dance, maybe the RE-RE-RE-Singletrack Classic  wouldn’t be a triumph.

But it was guaranteed not to be “Meh” either.

The race really is singletrack heaven, with long shots of tight and twisty singletrack that alternates between flowing and curvy, and constantly grindy and technical.  The roots are wickedly rooty; the rock gardens are unflinchingly rocky, and the log overs are awesomely log-overey.  The sections are punctuated by short doubletrack rips that were either fast and furious, or maddeningly steep and grunty.  The race course nods at some of Hardwood’s best trails, and it’s awesome at every turn.

The first lap was a heck of a lot of fun, and ended with a delicate rocky descent, a quick zip through two culverts, and back to the chalet START area.

I took a minute to recuperate, refill my belly and bottles with some Skratch, and recuperate a bit more, and then I was back in the saddle, ripping that deceptive first climb again.

During the second lap, I passed a few new racers who were finishing the short course, and giving it everything they had. It was so awesome to see so many newbies.  The distance is long enough to be a challenge, but short enough to be doable.  I remember my first races.  Man, they were tough, but so rewarding.  I hope they continue to pedal out of their comfort zone, and stomp on their boundries.  So awesome.

Lather, rinse (literally–it rained), repeat, and the race was over.

End of Race Report.

So that’s it.  After eight weeks of epic racing, I finished the Singletrack Classic fairly unscathed.  I didn’t place well, but I feel like I did well enough (for me), and for a bit of icing on the MTB cake, my lap times were only about 5-7 minutes apart from each other. Broken spokes?  Pfft.  Late start?  Pfft.  Flaming lungs and rubbery legs to start? Pfft.

Oh, except that some creep stole my sunglasses.

Yeah, seriously.  I put them down when I took off my helmet between laps, and when I went back for them, they were gone.  SONOTCOOL.  I don’t know why I’m so upset, I mean, it’s not like it was the first time I wore them (yes it was), and they were half price after all (except that they were Smiths, which meant half price was still 75 bucks).  Oh, and it’s not like I still have the case–with the other two sets of lenses–to serve as a constant reminder of a fellow racer’s craptitude.

Seriously, if you stole my sunglasses at Saturday’s race, you suck.  They were white Smith glasses with rose coloured polarized lenses, and I really liked them.  I hope you catch nose gonoherra, you big jerk.  And just so you know, I get really snotty during races so I hope you washed them really well.  I mean really snotty.

I have to say, the stealing-my-sunglasses-debacle created an unnecessary vulnerability at races.  We leave our bikes unattended.  And our helmets.  And GPS units.  And everything else.  We’re all in the same boat, playing the same game.  If people are going to start snatching unattended items at races, well that’s just not cool.

I’ve been thinking that between my bad luck, Grand Theft Sunglasses, and that giant climb, maybe next year I’ll forgo the Singletrack Classic, and finally shake off the demons that haunt me there.

Pfft.  Who am I kidding, I’ll be there, I’ll race it, and I’ll tank it (or not), and that’s awesome.

I may have missed the start of the race a few times, or had an angry bike, or whatever, but I’ve experienced it all before. For me, it’s about the experience, and I won’t experience anything when I sit at home. The only bad races are the ones not done.

So I’ll race the Singletrack Classic next year.

…I’ll just be sure to staple my sunglasses to my forehead.





For a brief, shining moment, I was Jeff Shikaze!  Or maybe he was me.  The timers misread his plate number, and recorded my name with his time.  Yes, for a brief time, Colin MacLellan was 10th place in the Singletrack Classic.  Boom.  And then, when they found the error,  not-so-boom.

Did you race on Saturday?  Was the experience the same for you?  If you have something to say, comment on the blog, or send a message to:

I almost forgot.  A word about the title.  Hey, Pulse Racing:  every year I register as Team Colin, and every year, you refuse to list my “team” on the results.  I am a team.  A viable, bike racing team.  Does YOUR team have hats?  Hmm.