The Day Before

So there's this sweet spot before a race starts. It exists in the time after you've traveled to the race and settled into your host housing or hotel, after you've gone for a spin and pre-ridden the prologue course, after you've had your pre-race meeting and learned your start time and been handed your numbers -- but before the race actually starts. The stresses of preparation and travel are behind you, but the race is still an open book. The possibilities are endless. At tomorrow's prologue, Carlos could take that left-hander so friggin' hot he stays in the hot seat until the last rider finishes. Yellow jersey, press conferences, the whole shebang.  On Tuesday Kai could go up the road in the right breakaway. He could hang tough over the climbs, and make it to the base of the final kicker in Crested Butte with two-minutes on the field, and stick like glue to the wheel of whatever famous pro-tour riders are there, and out-sprint them for the win just before Leipheimer and Evans charge across the line. Anything could happen. I mean the world is our oyster. All I know is that so far, my fortune from two days ago is still holding true: I've been obstacle free.

Right now, I'm looking at my bag for the race. 

It came filled with goodies. 

Some of them were identifiable (hat, water bottle, etc.). While others were not. Here's Matt (my roommate for the week) modeling the "mystery garment."

Or maybe this way?

I flipped through the tech guide and found it to be pretty typical with one major exception. I've never read a race bible that includes instructions for how to treat HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema). Lord help us, what on earth have we signed up for?

Alright. Gotta sleep. Tomorrow, we start prying open that oyster and finding out what's inside.