Hungry Like the Teenwolf

Sunday was crit day. To be more specific, it was SC Crit Championships day in downtown Charlestown. The race was staged at Hampton Park, an old horse track that was two straight-aways, three pleasant turns and one wet, shaded turn of infinite suffering and broken collarbones. We got there early so Tony "Teenwolf" Zanca could wander around bothering race organizers and civilians alike with an endless stream of questions like, "Wheres the bathroom?" "Can somebody pin my number?" "Any sign of the bathroom?" "What's a crit?" "I can get a quarter?" and so on ad infinitum until Troy slipped behind him ninja-style and administered a textbook sleeper hold to pacify the boisterous Teenwolf. So after some more waiting and a couple adventurous trips to the Porta-Potty (an olfactory holocaust) the Cat 5s (according to Eric, "the fat, slow guys in Primal Wear jerseys") took off for their 40 minutes of Hell. From the gate, Teenwolf was struggling as his shoe refused to clip in. "Oh shazbot. It's gonna be a long day" I muttered to myself as Troy nodded his head in agreement. But as luck and perhaps Fate (who is fickle, mind you gentle blog peruser) would have it, Tony got his feet clipped in and settled nicely within the race's rhythm. Three wrecks and 30 minutes later, the race ended with our lone Hawley representative finishing a respectable 13th. Teenwolf got boxed in on the last turn negating any chance at a sprint, top ten finish. Is positioning in a crit really that important? I guess so...