Second lap, I"m still running clean. Hebe comes by me on the power sections, and I feel like in the running and techy sections I"m on it. I feel good; don't know how far back I have drifted. Focus on the next guy in front of me. Hebe gets a little gap. I hear Luxy yell, "get that wheel" I stand on it, and come around. That was weird. Maybe the first time I've past Hebe in my life. At the end of the second lap, I think Slick Rick or Wes the conqueror lets me know it's a four lap race. I'm feeling good. I hear someone tell me I'm in 35th.

You know, coming into this, I thought realistically I'd come away, in the 40's, with a good day, the 30's were possible. Then the storm really turned up. Freezing rain and snow pounded us. The headwind up the finishing strait was the worst I ever felt. I was tucked low and pedaling as hard as I could, but felt like I wasn't moving. But shit, this is the National Championships, I'm in 35th with 2 to go, top 30 sure would be nice. I see guys in front of me, what the fuck.

My only thought was move up, keep moving up. And I did. I moved through some small groups. I rode smooth. End of third lap, I ran past Piccalo. Coming out of the Candy Bowl, I get cocky and stack it into the snow and ice and muck. Sliding down the hill, I realize I don't want to do this again. Piccalo dances past me. Through the black hill, I dismount and start running; I slip and fall on my face. I get up only to slip again, I start to freak thinking, "fuck I'm stuck on this hill!" I start running and moving again, I'm back on the bike.