The Weather. Too damn perfect. Who the hell decides to have a race in this kind of weather? It was way too perfect to be safe. Imagine the risk. Loads of riders enjoying the weather and not concentrating on being safe. Hell, I almost did an endo because the weather was too nice.

The Skull Valley Death March. Why, why, why? It made this race too damn epic. Next year, make it easier and offer shuttles, green tea, muffins, hand wipes and hot towels.

Who were the guys in the bus at the lookout operating Ham radios?

Cramps, Cramps and more Cramps. If you scream and no one can hear, did you still experience pain? I apologize to Jesus, my sister, my mother, Paul B., the lady bugs, a large rock minding its own business, Reuben Studdard and anyone else that I may have cursed out at the top of my lungs during this agony. Next year, no fuqing cramps.

Did I say cramps, very painful cramps?

Too many smiles. Hell, there were too many happy people at this race. Please, next year, at least pretend to suffer, for my sake.

Cramps. Fuqing damn cramps.