Grit, Guts, and a Very Small Goat




This Sunday, we drove up to Santa Barbara for my man’s mountain bike race. (For all you newbies to the blog, I refer to him as 734’s Dad; 734 is his very small cat named after me 623 +111.) I love going to his races. The atmosphere is casual. The races are competitive. These guys and gals manage to fit the training in with their normal jobs during the week, so they can charge at places like this one in Ellings Park. Rumor has it the 4.5-mile loop, which they did four times, was quite challenging. The only thing I saw was a plumb of dust after the start and a sliver of single track. When they came through the finish, their game faces looked like coalminers covered in dirt.






Before the race started, I spotted a dog drinking Firestone Ale out of his master’s cup. After the race, I spotted a small pet goat who wanted a taste too. What is it with the animals up here? 734’s Dad came from behind to place second in his age group for the single-speed class.