With much anticipation, Race Day came, and with it brought astounding feats of athleticism and patheticism. For those of you that attended, you know that the Alp D'Southwest is one of the greatly overlooked geological monstrosities of the American Middle West. Its will-breaking grade and oxygen starved environment is enough to bring even the most finely tuned athlete to his knees. Let alone an athlete who hadn't slept in two days and arrived at the race asleep in the back of his lady friend's car.
The pace was blistering and the timing technology advanced. Young men and women danced on pedals most immodestly in their quest to slay the great asphalt Goliath. In the end it was one man, Tim, who summited the peak in the fastest time, a startling one minute 1:56. A mere second in front of Cole, his next closest competetor. The winner of the lady's division, and one time leader of the race, was Christine with 2:37.
Basking in the pleasant glow of friendly competion, many of the athletes mused upon the higlights of day over quart cans of beer in the park, followed by a most regal feast at ole trusty Del Taco.
p.s. I made up the word "patheticism." What do you think?