The Majestic Crit at San Bernardino International Airport

An apple fritter for breakfast with a small chocolate milk. The real reason I don't race anymore has nothing to do with lack of fitness, lack of training, poverty, or cyclist ptsd-induced fear. I took a different route to the race, one that took me through downtown, a downtown that has not constructed a new building since 1970 - very nostalgic. Contrary to popular belief, the sky was blue, the air was clear and clean, there was fresh snow on the nearby high mountains and, as long as you didn't stand in the shade for too long it was actually quite comfortable outside. It was pretty clear why so many people pack their belongings, sell their house, and move to San Bernardino. It was a contrast to the last time I came out here for a Majestic / Mobbin race; then it was blazing hot, your lungs were seared with each gasp of air, and I don't think you could even see that mountains rose from the edge of the city.

I walked my laps around the course - one for each race of the morning; six corners, six changes of direction, two of which are 180º swings, and a nice long sprint to the finish. Technically, I would not call it a technical course, but there is a little more challenge to it than your basic four-corner crit; two extra turns to accelerate out of, two extra chances to drain the legs of energy. If you're not wiped out at the end, you didn't try hard enough.

If you missed it because you didn't want to drive to San Berdoo, you missed out, because I am not sure a day this nice will come around for another forty years. 

It could have been a large chocolate milk. Oh well, too late for that now. Not too late for photos, though - eighty-three have been selected for the album.