Tulsa Tough Race Reporto

The 2011 Cat 1/2 edition of Tulsa Tough was everything a Wooly Mammoth looks for in a race weekend:

Tradition:
I knew of all three races offered over the weekend, my best chances at a result were on Friday night. I love me a technical course and a loud, cheering crowd on city streets is more intoxicating than the suds consumed by the tifosi all weekend. I focused all my energies into bringing home a result on the atmosphere that best suited my abilities, as is the Wooly tradition. As if the course and the pace were not enough to surmount, the best way to cross the line is to not know if you really survived or are merely projecting an image to your consciousness while your soul is wandering in the space between life and death that can only be described as….

Ultra:
It was all gonna stay together. Twenty minutes in I rolled off the front for a few. I had plans to make a last minute ditch but the opportunity to blaze around the crowd-lined course and get some live stream time for Wooly's sponsors was too tempting early on. The ultraness of the race became apparent as the sun set. Protective Indian Spirits cloaked as storm clouds began to blanket the perimeter of the course and plan a timely attack. Race promoters cut the race short in the hopes of out foxing the looming storm by slicing off five laps. Two laps to go the lightning strike and quickly answered thunder crack was intro to fat rain drops. Half a lap later, going into the last lap, the skies opened and the noise level externally was on full blast from every source. The crowd seemed amplified. The race announcer (who was amplified) began the chant, "One to GO! One to GO! One to GO!" No longer were we the flying, confident, semipro athletes our logo laced lycra advertised us to be. We were a pack of panicky kids being forced to take an unwanted ice skating lesson. The levels internally were tranquil, tho. Every pedal stroke seemed like the last option at ground touching earth. At every turn more of the peloton washed away in the quiet of the storm as it swallowed most of its victims whole, bike and rider, to appease its appetite. I crossed the line 6th. It was death, no? The rain gods had more in store for this Wooly to complete the cycle of….

Romance:
Sound Pony is the cyclist's bar in Tulsa. Saturday's race course goes right past it and it is a great place to catch all the action flying through and then watch the rest of the moves on the big screen strategically placed out front. The dance floor that night may have seen the likes of cyclists, some still in lycra and helmet, laying down moves only pro romancers are capable of. The romance became too much with one lucky Tulsa resident and the storm that, again, moved in by the Wooly supporting Indian Spirits till 5am could be a cliche comparison…