Race two was an out and back again sort of affair starting at the top of a park and descending to the bottom of some rolling hills. The decent was tricky as there were drop-offs that creeped up on you suddenly and being that you only had a coaster brake to rely on to control your speed it could be perilous. Once you reached the bottom there was what we called “The Malaria Pit” ; a 30 foot long mire of black mud that smelled like a porta potty at a Judas Priest concert. The goo that was in this bog was about knee deep and sticky like jelly preserves but with none of it’s sweetness. Now, the discerning racer would notice a small sign before the Pit the said “Trail” with an arrow pointing to the left. A small section of single track would get you around the Pit and back on the trail without out that oh so unfresh feeling. Some of the racers made it through and some did not, and you could smell the difference. The leader at the end forgot to apply the brakes and crashed into the map kiosk, ringing his bell. Being that it was in the 90’s a few of the racers overheated and had to take a while to cool down, you could feel the LA sunshine burning through your helmet on the climb back for sure. One of the racers managed to get lost and after we went looking for him to no avail, he was holed up at some ranch where he had phoned home like E.T. But we cannot fly so we had to pick him up at some other corner of civilization, the time was 10:00 pm, we started the race at 5:30.
