this was not my best effort

In a fit of I don't even know what, I signed up for this race back in January along with Snotcycle.  I expected nothing of myself w/r/t Snotcycle but figured I would be in good shape for this race.  While circumstances (a combination of weather and other commitments) had prevented me from getting outside on my bike this season, surely the triathlon training would fill the void.

Oh, I was so very wrong.

I got up painfully early for the hour drive to Patapsco, picked up my race packet and commenced warming up - spun on the trainer for a bit, a run up the road so I could see where the prologue ended and the off-road began, and then some laps around the parking lot.

The call finally went out for beginners to line up and I found myself somewhere near the end of the pack which I was OK with - my strategy for this race, especially with a course I'd never been on, was to just put out a consistent effort and pick riders off as they blew up.

I didn't sprint as we started and made our way along the prologue and then onto the doubletrack - just steady pedaling and passing as I came up on each wheel.  And then we turned a corner and I looked up.  Yes, up.  Ahead was a looong wet climb with riders struggling, and in some cases, already dismounting and pushing.  I jammed down to the granny and things just came apart.

My front derailleur was just not cooperating.  I couldn't get it to shift down.  Thinking back, I should have just thrown it on the ring and called it good, but I was just so pissed at the time as riders pushed and rode past me that I couldn't think straight.  I finally got it to shift, got back on my bike and started off again.  And then the rear derailleur started acting up.  This had been a minor nuisance of late but with the increased load of racing/torque it became really problematic and a major annoyance for the rest of the race.  I finally gave up and started pushing like everyone else - pissed that I'd gone from middle of the pack to very close to DFL.

I dishonor myself

Regardless I kept pushing and eventually got to the top and mounted back up and tried to make up some time.  There's not much to say about the first third or so of the race except that it was, thankfully, relatively mellow and allowed me to get some gas back.  I must have passed a couple of people here but don't remember anything in particular - just a lot of pedaling and more "hike-a-bike" than I was used to.

Possibly still pissed but probably just tired

I'd heard that the course was "wet/muddy in the usual spots" which, having never ridden there before, obviously meant nothing to me.  But around the halfway point I saw exactly what was meant.  Ahead was a full bog - not a puddle with some mud nor even a small mud hole.  This was big "lose your shoe walking through it" type mud.  I set my line to hit it as straight on as possible with no turns.  Unfortunately, the rider in front of me turned in the middle and washed out which pushed me to the outside line where I had to turn so I wouldn't hit a tree.  Things were going well and then... I was completely down on my right side in several inches of mud.  Cursing, I got up as fast as I could looking much like a black-and-white cookie.  I spent the next few minutes trying to throw mud off my right side.

This does not at all do justice to what a mess I was

The second half of the course would have been a lot of fun if I wasn't heaving and trying to make up time.  A lot of semi-technical riding, stream crossings and of course, more hike-a-bike moments.  I had heard that there wasn't much flat in Patapsco, you were either going up or down.  Seemed like more up than down.  I passed a few more riders here and was passed by one.

I finally heard some cheering and cowbells which signaled the finish line as blessedly near.  I made a big left turn and hopped over a rock to some pity cheers and down the monster hill that started the race with water and mud flying up into my face.  Back down the road and though the finish line.

Place	Bib #	Name	Time
11	17	Brian Connors	54:39

All things considered, better than I thought, but nowhere near where I wanted to be.  I could blame things on my bike/losing focus when things went awry, but a lot/most of those hills just kicked my ass.  The trainer certainly helped but I guess there really is no substitute for getting out there.  Patapsco was a blast to ride though and got me energized to get back outside.  Looking forward to racing again - albeit with some more fitness.

ten little popsicles

Late Fall 2009

With Fall well behind me and Spring but a distant vision, I engaged in a long series of monologues about how I was going to do more racing in 2010.  Sure the Tacchino CX race hadn't gone so well but that was hardly surprising - I was out of shape and riding the wrong kind of bike.  Just look at the Monster Mash - I'd trained and done relatively well - even if it wasn't the most competitive of races.

Yes, definitely more racing in 2010.  Cant't wait to get started.  Too bad it's the middle of winter.

December 17, 2009

A link appeared on http://more-mtb.org for the Snotcycle on January 30, 2010.  Well, that happened earlier than I expected.  With 1.5 months to go, surely I could get my ass in gear.  Go for some rides on warmer days.  Running too, that would be a good idea.  No time like the present to get started.

January 3, 2010

I finally got around to buying the trainer that Jennifer and I had been talking about getting for awhile.  I'm ready to get serious now.  Still haven't registered but I'm really planning on doing so.  Jennifer even got me some new socks and toe warmers for Christmas to encourage me to race.  Tomorrow, definitely tomorrow.

January 13, 2010

With the field rapidly filling up, and having talked about doing it amongst friends and family, I pretty much had to register and finally pulled the trigger.  Two weeks isn't a lot of time, but do-able with some laser-focused effort.  I mean I'd already been on the trainer a couple of times - albeit on Jennifer's bike.

January 18, 2010

Finally got off my ass and bought a slick to mount for the rear wheel so I could begin training in earnest on a bike that fit me.  Race day was still a decent distance off (relative to the amount of effort I was willing to put in).

January 19-28, 2010

If "training fiend" can be described as someone who got on the trainer a few times a week, wanted to do more but was waylaid by post-work exhaustion/general laziness than fiend I was.  I suspect I do not fit the usual definition.  But things did improve here.  Of course barring a broken leg the only direction was greater fitness.

January 29, 2010

Anxiety had been building all week but not too bad.  Given my lack of effort I didn't expect too much from myself.  Weather was also starting to play a factor - everything from snow showers to a for-real storm on race day.  As we got closer to race day the weather firmed up with snow forecast as starting later in the morning.  Not that it mattered, race was on regardless of conditions.

The only thing I really needed to pick up was some shoe covers as I didn't think duct tape was going to cut it.  I picked up some covers that I thought would be OK, if a bit warm.  Certainly wouldn't need the toe-warmers Jennifer bought me.  Fast-forwarding slightly, I am an idiot.

Took a final quick spin on the trainer and then pulled off the bike to put on my regular MTB tires.  And then suddenly, and quite without warning, I was looking at the stem from my tube lodged in the pump.  At 8:20 PM.  The night before the race.  That did not just happen.  I raced to REI to pick up two spare tubes.  Crisis avoided.

January 30, 2010 - Race Day

6:30 came way too early.  I made way way out to Leesburg with the anticipation of warming up for a bit before the race.  What I did instead was pick up my number, timing chip and then stand by the bonfire.

Somewhere around 8:30 I grudgingly made my way back to the car to gear up.  Little bit cold there.  Came real close to forgetting to attach my timing chip and was only saved by overhearing someone else say something about theirs.  I spent the rest of my time spinning up and down the access road before the announcer called for Cat 3 racers to report to the starting line.

I'n not a front-of-the-packer yet but knew I didn't want to be all the way at the back again -  too much nonsense to overcome.  Stamped my feet to try and warm them up, met some fellow MORE folk and then we were off.

There was a prologue of sorts which is to say that the farm we were racing on/around had a truck path that provided two lanes of singletrack before heading into the woods.  I remember 1-3 people passing me here but can't remember if I passed anyone.  I think I was just concentrating on finding my pace.

The opening singletrack was lots of fun - well spaced pine trees with the trail bobbing and weaving about.  I think I passed one or two riders here before hitting a bottleneck at the first obstacle.  It would have been an entertaining rock climb but was now choked with riders dismounting.  I think in the past it would have offended me to dismount but this was a race not a style competition, so I just got off and ran up CX-style.

I passed 1-2 more riders here and then settled into a nice pace before I hit the next group.  They seemed to be going at a reasonable clip, or so I thought until we hit a few twisting downhills.  Brakes?!?  This was perfect ground to run up some speed.  A more experienced racer would have know to pass immediately but I thought maybe they were just getting their bearings.  Two more small downhills and I knew I needed to pass.

We were now back on some flow-y trail making our way back to the entrance road and I was over whatever passing hesitations I had before.  If you catch up with them, it means you're faster - just pass them and be done with it.

I passed another 2-3 riders before crossing over the entrance road to the clanging of cowbells - always fun to hear.  I think I passed one more rider before I emerged out into a pasture and made my way to the back half of the course.

This section was far more technical (relatively speaking) with a number of log/rock crossings/climbs and one steep drop that would have given me pause if I'd seen it coming - instead I just dropped down the the thing with a passing thought of "well that was entertaining" (I later heard that this turned into another mini-bottleneck).

I closed on another group of riders and sat there for a bit as I didn't really feel like I had the gas to pass and the opportunities to do so were now more limited given the trail.  Sometime over the last little bit it had also started to snow.  So I was feeling relatively good from a cardio perspective even if I couldn't feel my toes at all by this point.  And then something odd happened.  Riders started pulling up - whether from cold or fitness or just feeling me behind and letting me pass, I couldn't say.  What it translated to was skipping by 4-5 riders with no effort at all.

I came up one someone walking the trail in reverse who told me were nearly done - this was probably around the 7 mile mark.  Thank god as my feet were just blocks now.  I came up on one more rider and sat on his wheel until I could find the space and energy to pass.

We came out of the woods and back into the pasture for the last stretch to the finish.  I was still on the other rider's wheel when we hit a downhill and up another small climb.  He didn't carry his speed so I had to check mine and get out of the saddle to top out.  I felt my left calf seize for a second when I stood and knew I need to pass before anything worse happened.  I took the next curve inside of him and brought it home to the finish line.

As I crossed the line I thought I heard someone say "14th" and assumed they were talking about me.  I don't know what I was aiming for, but 14th was better than I could have hoped.  I pedaled around for a bit and made my way back to the car to try and warm up.  It eventually took about 30 minutes in front of the bonfire before my feet felt comfortable again.  I headed back to the timing table but they didn't have official results yet so I chatted with some folk around the bonfire for a bit before calling it a day and heading home.

January 31, 2010

Spent some time looking for pics (some watermarked images here, I'm in the middle and the bottom of the page (I'll be buying pics soon)) and waiting on the official results.  So this was more than a little surprising:

Place	Bib #	Rider	Time
9	211	Brian Connors	48:09.3

OK, so that was way better than I expected.  And with 15 points toward the rest of the series (Hotcycle and SpeedFreaks), now I have some skin in the game and pretty much have to race.

It was a great race and I'm glad I did it.  Each of these little efforts is having a positive effect and momentum seems to be building.  I'm definitely also starting to amass some lessons learned when racing - pass when you can because sitting on a wheel that's slower than you just wastes time.  Doing this a few times a race and the minutes rack up.

Thanks, as always, to Jennifer and Lauren for their love and encouragement.

Spring is coming up quick...

a petition for cat 6 (yep, that's right, i skipped right over cat 5)

This will be short, in keeping with my first cyclocross experience.

Much like my last race, I have no idea why I decided to do this. I certainly hadn't been training a lot lately (read, at all), nor even riding terribly much. The notion to do a CX race was probably fueled by a healthy dose of "how bad could it be?"

The answer, as it turned out, was horrible.

At any rate, it's a Tuesday afternoon and I stumble across a link for an upcoming CX race. On Sunday. Like this Sunday. I think about it. I think some more. I think, "how bad could it be?" They're even marketing it as "rolling out the red carpet" for beginners and MTBers. So I emailed my once-upon-a-time climbing partner Mike who I know to be a CX racer and tell him that I'm thinking about entering a race. His response:

"oh, you silly, silly man"

Over the next couple of days I get Mike's general take on what to expect and what to do in the limited time available to me. I watch and practice some tips on dismounting and remounting for clearing obstacles (turns out this isn't that hard). I buy some skinnies to replace my big fat 2.1 MTB tires (where I discover to my dismay that the manager of the LBS is riding the same class as me). I watch inspirational videos like, "Cyclocross: An Hour in Hell," which, despite the title, does not really delve into the more hellish aspect of things and makes it seem like a big party with beer and bikes. Like you know, fun. Mike has warned me that fun in this context should be in quotes.

So Sunday arrived and I make my way to the Tacchino Ciclocross. Lindsey at registration managed to pierce my disguise and pegged me as a first-timer as I completely cocked-up pinning my bib to my jersey (btw, how on earth do people manage this without a second set of hands?). I stretch for a bit and then get to spinning around looking [mostly in vain] for fellow MTBers. Due to time constraints (overslept) I didn't pre-ride the course. I'm not terribly upset by this as I think it will only tire me out or scare me. Or both. I determined I was better off just flying blind.

I finally lined up at the tail end of a massive (at least to me) pack of somewhere around 100 riders. The coordinators announced that due to the shortness of the course, lapped riders should drop to allow for more accurate times for the leaders. A fellow MTBer mutters, "great, I just paid for a 15 minute race." I make some small-talk with riders around me. And then we're off.

It's a short bit of road before a turn onto the grass and then a hard right off-camber uphill turn which grinds the pack to a halt. I'm surprised at the twitchy-ness of all the CX bikes as I bob and weave around a few riders. I actually tiptoe into a bit of confidence here. If this is enough to screw with these riders, I'm set. This is easy riding and last time, once I established my place, I was able to hold it.

Another turn and climb is followed by a fast downhill followed by a big sweeping off-camber turn. Again, I'm completely confident in this - this isn't hard at all. I see a flat section ahead and then a huge hill.

This is when the passing both starts and ends. A number of riders whizz past me and on up the hill. I don't know if I'm technically DFL but it sure feels like it. But I'm not out yet. There are two riders 10 yards ahead of me and another couple 30 yards beyond them. I'll just keep pace and try not to blow up.

Some twists and turns around trees follow, a run up a gravel path, a U-turn, back down, another 90 degree turn and then out into the main pavilion/pit area for the first and only obstacle. This is straightforward and I'm back in the saddle easily. A hard right-left off-camber turn (someone will break their ankle here later) then then downhill to some dirt double-track with an easy to carry uphill. A long-ish grass uphill is followed by a series of 180 turns, a hard right-left-right off-camber, and then downhill onto pavement and back up.

End of lap one.

I'm heaving at this point. I haven't blown up yet, but I'm not too far off. But I'm still on the rider in front of me and determined not to quit. Lap 2 goes along as these things do. There was one uplifting moment as I passed the pit area and someone yelled out,

"Keep on him! He's lollygagging up there."

I smile grimly but know that it's true. I can see him starting to fade and know that I at least have the determination (if not the fitness) to pass him soon.

Lap 2 ends and we're back in the woods. I'm grinding out a muddy hill when I hear someone bellow behind me,

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

And just like that I'm lapped and my race is over. I'll be honest and admit there was a certain sense of relief. I'd known this was coming, I just didn't know when. I pulled over and let the lead pack go by. Some of the riders even thank me. I remount and keep pedaling figuring that I'll ride out the course until I can bail out without getting in the way. I walk it up the big hill and read the sign at the top:

"If you can read, this, you're probably walking."

Too true. I rode the next twisty section and then back out to the field where I bailed. I pedaled over to the officials tent and reported bib 189 as out and then moved to just before the finish line, or what I like to call "Losers Lane."

While physically I resemble the turkey, I think of myself as more of the hunter here. Not from the careful pursuit and capture of prey perspective, but rather more from the seeing another rider far off in the distance and knowing that I will never catch them perspective.

Several other lapped riders joined me as we watched the rest of the field pour in. Chatted with Adam (40th) from The Bike Lane (the aforementioned LBS manager) and then made my way back to the car to change. At this point, there was only one way to salvage the day - sausage and beer.

Back at the car, I ran into fellow rider and, as it turned out, geek Aron (who I just learned placed 33rd). We made our way back to the pavilion to watch some races, talk shop, and down sausage, pommes frites, and beer. I will say that the atmosphere at these races just rocks. Cowbells are clanging, people are shouting, the band is playing and the announcer is alternating between belittlement and encouragement. It really is a party and highly spectator friendly.

So, closing thoughts. It's hard to put a positive spin on this type of thing. I could hang my helmet on the fact that nearly 40% of the field didn't place. That I was out of any kind of condition and riding a bike ill-equipped to the task at hand. But in the end, I think, there is some value in what Jennifer said. That stepping outside your comfort zone is always a good thing. That at least trying is important. It's hard though not to hear that as "loser talk," but she's right of course. Still sucks to not even get to finish.

Mike has already asked when my next race is. I don't know that I'm there yet. It's something that I plan to do again. I think I'd just like to be better prepared.

psyched about being pumped, and pumped about being psyched

I don't know exactly what precipitated all this. It was no doubt influenced by the retirement of my '95 vintage Trek 7000 and the purchase of a Gary Fisher Cobia (all hail the 29er!), but exactly what made me want to enter an actual race is completely beyond me. I'd contemplated racing years ago when I was hitting Accotink and Wakefield 4-5 days/week while much younger and much fitter.

Regardless, I knew that the Wednesdays at Wakefield series existed and that seemed like a more than reasonable goal - after all, it was nearly a year off. At some point during all this internal musing I found out about the Monster Mash - a charity race on 10/10.

Om nom nom nom

The beginning of October though? It's mid-September already. There was no way I could get in shape for a race in 2-3 weeks - charity or not. I mean Bruce and I were doing our usual Tuesday night rides where he would regularly kick my ass. A race would be a whole different thing. I know it's not supposed to be - this isn't a livelihood nor even something I "do." It should be no pressure but I'm not the type. I'd be bitter if I came in last. Or vomited.

I decided to make a deal with myself. After some digging around on more-mtb.org I found the course map. Armed with this and the lap times from last year, I decided to run a lap and time myself. If I was completely off the pace I wouldn't enter, but if I ran an OK time I would.

The following Saturday I hit the course. I tore through familiar territory (if not in the usual sequence that Bruce and I do it) at what I thought would be race pace and without our usual stops to talk. I hit the finish line heaving and looked at my watch.

21 minutes.

Crap. I was both pleased that I could finish in a reasonable time and disheartened at the amount of effort expended to complete just one lap when the race would demand two. Not a lot of training time between now and race day.

But I kept at it. More riding days and harder ones. Bruce continued to punish me - albeit in unintentional ways. I would feel like I was getting faster and then we would go out and he would still be on my wheel the whole time.

Going into the week before the race I was amped. I had only played team sports growing up (except for climbing where the only competitor is internal), so the prospect of actually racing was a novel one. By Friday though I was back to nervous mode. Friends at work were surprised in how this anxiety manifested itself (for those of you scoring at home, the answer is 3 (low to be sure - I was as surprised as anyone)).

I slept surprisingly well the night before the race. Got up early, ate a solid breakfast, got in the car and hit play for the Monster Mash playlist on my iPod.

"Gimmie Some Lovin'" by the Spencer Davis Group.

This is a very good sign.

I was at Wakefield by 8:30 for a 9:30 start time. I picked up my bib number, stretched for an inordinate amount of time, and then began my warm-up ride. Easy cruiser stuff on the river trail and then into the blue loop. Not hard by any means but more attention needed to be paid. The rain the night before and slicked things up and I certainly didn't want to crash warming up of all things. After 1/2 hour I'd just about had enough and just wanted to get started. I hit the start line around 9:20 and found the beginners group.

Easy enough to find them - huddled up in the back like a bunch of 7th graders at a dance.

For those reading that don't know (and I count myself among you until recently) they stage races likes these in waves. Experts run first, then sport a minute behind, then beginners another minute behind etc. In this way you can get a lot of racers on the course without slower groups interfering with faster groups and given even the slowest of lap times, it's unlikely that anyone will get lapped.

So I was way in the back. Actually too far back at it turned out. What we thought was a race class ahead of us turned out to be the less nervous beginners who didn't want to huddle near the back. All told it ended up being a field of 31 - though it felt much bigger. Especially as a first-time racer.

It was also funny - each person eyeing up the opposition trying to figure out if you were faster than them. I heard one guy behind me say that he had just ridden Wakefield for the first time a few days ago and it had scared him silly. I figured I could at least beat him. In truth though, that really impressed me. I ride every week at Wakefield and had no confidence in my ability to race and this guys signs up having never ridden off-road before. I should have more of his attitude.

Helped that I had the correct inspiration on my bike.

Only a Mille Bornes Hall of Fame member would have the temerity to do this

Luckily I ended up being on the left side of the trail as it affords the best line up the start hill that would weed out the pack.

And suddenly we were off. I remember having this "holy crap I'm racing" thought as I clipped in my left foot and started cranking. Bizarre riding with that many people.

The pack was still thick as we hit the hill and started to quickly thin out as racers got on non-optimal lines or had racers in front of them spin-out and stop on the loose gravel. I manged to keep my line until close to the top when I had to bob and weave around a few riders that lost traction. I hit the downhill to the powerlines close to the front of the field, though stuck behind riders going slightly slower than I would have liked (especially on a downhill).

I hit the always less than fun Salamander trail still in good position and just tried to get though it as fast as possible and not lose any time. A group of around five of us (hard to know how many were close behind) crossed the bridge and came on the only log crossing of the course. There is a way around but it's much slower so we all lined up to clear it. The leader of our group pulled up and then just completely endoed over it in a spectacular fashion. The two riders behind him had to stop but the rider in front of me and I were just far enough behind to swing around the alternate trail and head up the hill.

An easy downhill followed and then back onto doubletrack for a bit before the creek trail. I grabbed some water and made sure to stay on pace with the rider in front of me. I also felt someone on my wheel, we'll call him Patrick because, as it turns out, that's his name. He wasn't trying to pass but definitely stayed on my wheel throughout.

The river trail was fun as always and hitting the double track again, Patrick and I were still hot on the next rider. Back onto singletrack through the woods and then out onto the powerlines and the newly refurbished race trail. I kept up a steady pace through here and things were going well until we caught a rider from a previous wave who had stopped on the mini-climb before the longer powerline climb. We came to a dead stop. There was some clusterfuck-ery as I offered to let Patrick pass which he either declined or didn't act quickly enough and then I was back on and pedaling away. But the nonsense had cost me as I would catch sight of the rider ahead periodically but never in a position to pursue (though, as it turned out, he only finished 12 seconds ahead. I guess the lesson to learn here is you might be surprised how close people are in front/behind you).

Up the powerline trail, across, and back down and through the woods. Through the mini-berms and the up the switchback climb. I climbed relatively well but was knackered by the top so I pulled over to let Patrick pass as I figured that by this time I was just holding him up.

Down the berms which were fun as always.

Eye of the tiger. Body of a manatee

The course then took what I thought was a weird turn by not going left across the creek but back into the woods and then back out with a tough turn to maintain at speed.

Another awkward turn across the creek and then along the trail next to 495. I made sure to mash down my gears as I crossed the stream into the finish climb. We passed someone on this climb but I have no idea what class he was racing in.

One more thing that surprised me about the race course is that after the finish climb the course went back into the woods instead of staying on the fireroad. I came back out of the woods and the end of lap 1 to see Jennifer and Lauren cheering for me which was just awesome.

Less waving more fucking pedaling Daddy!

- Lauren

Patrick was still only a few seconds in front of me as we went back into the trees for a fun descent then an easy climb to the top the gravel road that had served to weed out the pack at the beginning of the race.

I just kept on Patrick's wheel as he was going at the same pace as me and I didn't want to pass if I was going to just get re-passed at some future point. I think I felt like if the opportunity presented itself I would take it but wasn't going to push the issue.

We skipped the log the racer had wrecked on before as there was no pressure from behind and I suspect that neither of us wanted to make a stupid mistake. We cruised on like that until the top of the powerline climb when I risked a look back and didn't see a soul on the climb coming up. I think at that point I finally relaxed and realized that barring some horrible wreck the rest of the race was going to be easy as there was no one to catch up to and no one who would catch me.

I made sure to stay on Patrick's wheel as I was hoping that I would magically get some passing energy or that he would falter in some way that I could take advantage of. Sadly, neither happened. I tried to gun it for the final sprint to the finish on the fireroad but you're on it for such little time there just wasn't enough room. The official results show us as tied as they were only timing down to the second but Patrick's wheel hit the line first.

Stupid Patrick finishing before me

No, wait. Here he is

I knew I had done reasonably well but was thrilled with the final result.

Place	Bib #	Name	Lap 1	Lap 2	Time
10	141	Brian Connors	22:00	23:36	45:36

That's the honest version of the results with Patrick in 9th

Jennifer and Lauren came running over to congratulate me which was great.

Lauren is the non big fat load on the right

Having been in one anther's company for the past 45 minutes, Patrick and I then introduced ourselves to one another. I think we were both equally tired and glad not to be battling with one another.

Somewhat (OK, very) pooped. But happy

While I'm not going to miss the pre-race anxiety, I'm genuinely sorry it's over. It was a complete obsession for three weeks and not having it to look forward to anymore was kind of a letdown. I had a ridiculously good time and I'm completely looking forward to racing again (Dave and Bruce, you totally should have entered). The only unfortunate thing is now I have a set of expectations.

I think I may have the bug.

As always, thanks to Jennifer for her support and for coming out with Lauren on race day. It was beyond great seeing you as I went by. And to Bruce for his constant reassurance of "you're gonna be fine man."