Kings of New England – New Haven alleycat

Super Evil Brian (Brian McGloin)

Kings of New England
Part three, New Haven

My second alleycat brought a new set of mistakes, serious dehydration (and the accompanying physical complications) and most of all, a damned good time.

Began behind the Devil’s Gear bike shop in New Haven, CT.

After a delay to clean up some errant urine, the starting horn choked a cloud of gas and we were off.

Our bikes were locked to a fence that was out through a gate and across the street. As we ran toward the gate, someone had shut it. One other guy and I figured it might not be locked so we slid it open and gained some time over everyone else … they ran around the building.

Moments before the start, some burnout gave me shit about me locking my bike to his, saying I had better get there first. I didn’t see the loser again until much later at Rudy’s – at the pre-after party. I out sprinted him to the fence as was rolling immediately after. Mattio came charging around the corner just as I rode away.

I had a route in my head – roughly – but for some reason I decided to follow the guy who got away from the fence first. I have no idea what his name is but I do have a photo of him. He knew the streets of New Haven well whereas I didn’t. I can get around in places where I’m not familiar and I can navigate where I do know but, as I found out, navigating to specific checkpoints while racing is something different completely.

Our first manifests were given to us in sealed envelopes along with the location of our Dispatch Point – where we were to meet after the completion of the first manifest. At the time, that seemed easy enough. In fact it wasn’t too bad.

Many of the checkpoints were time consuming. One had us skipping around a tree, another involved hopscotch, still another has us rolling dice. And there was the one (after taking a very wrong turn) that had us run around a garden and the check point under the tree where we had to play a hand or two of blackjack. Time was tight and each moment spend rolling dice or answering trivia questions meant we had to ride harder to make the cut off time.

The second manifest proved to be brutal. Add to that the impending doom of dehydration. I should mention that the race had a cut-off time of 4:30 where ALL of the checkpoints had to be done to even finish. Somewhere halfway into the second manifest, at the checkpoint at the hill “that’s a category”, as the race organizer told us, the announcement came to return to the Dispatch Point. Here I lost my race companions and I was really starting to fade and get a little disorientated. I got near the Dispatch but the time cutoff had passed so I thought I just didn’t finish and decided to find something to eat and relax.

I wandered up and down whatever street I was on not realizing there was a real finish line and a few extra checkpoints. I almost went home (for some reason I couldn’t find anything that looked right – hey, it made sense at the time) after wasting a good 30 minutes.

Then suddenly I ran into one of the girls in the race who was looking for a certain street. I might have helped her out but I doubt it. We talked for a bit and she mentioned the finish line.

“Finish Line? There is a finish line!?” I asked. It wasn’t far away either – it was in the direction of the other racers I remembered passing about 40 minutes or 17 years later, somewhere between there. I bolted down the hill toward the Devil’s Gear bike shop where the ordeal began a few hours earlier.

There, in the shady oasis was Everyone. Everyone and water and watermelon.

I made it. I survived, although I think I placed a few spots after last. But, given that I almost went home and given how lost and confused and tired I had become (seriously, I KNOW better than let myself degrade like this) I think I did OK. The group went to Rudy’s after to bullshit about race stories, drink beer and relax. I stuck with soda and a tasty cheeseburger (this of course, further deepened the dehydration) and the limited amount of socializing I can handle at any given point.

It was fun.

The proper after party was at Bar. The race results were announced, prized given out and general good times for all ensued. Well, I left after a few minutes so I imagine every one had a good time. The physical effects of dehydration were just too much and I crawled home.

For the record, I’m not a sissy – I had a serious migraine and a pounding abscessed tooth at the same time. There is more to it but I’ll save that for another time.

The last race in the Kings of New England was a good time and I’m glad I went.