Up your nose with a rubber hose, New England

Ah, the Northeast. Home of funny accents and cold weather. America's answer to Saskatchewan.

I traveled North with high hopes, which were (as always) coupled with an unshakeable sense of dread. Last year, my forays into NECCS were fun adventures, even if not personal successes. I was really hoping to repeat that.

For four hours, I drove to Massachusetts. In the grand scheme of things, this is really nothing, but damned if it didn't feel like I invested a lot of time.

I'll cut to the chase: They wouldn't let me race.

The reasoning behind the decision is legitimate, I suppose. I registered for the B race, but I'm a Cat 4. In the Mid-Atlantic, that's okay, but in New England, they've arbitrarily set their own cutoff at Cat 3. Since I've already scored ECCC points in the Bs, I can't race C's. Last year, this wasn't a problem, and I was assured that it wouldn't be this year either.

I went into the weekend looking for a fun race and some ECCC points. All I have left are these sour grapes.

This should be a description of the amazing, beautiful, fun course. Instead, let me tell you how glad I am that I didn't have to worry about cornering on gravel.

This should be a heroic dismissal of the pain in my knee. I'm okay with hurt. Hurt is inevitable. Hurt means you actually did something. Instead, let me tell you how glad I am that my knee doesn't hurt as bad as it would've if I'd raced.

This should be a description of my race, which would be similar to, but distinguishable from, every other race report. Ever. Instead, let me tell you how glad I am to relay to you my teammates' happiness rather than my own displeasure.

Here's the worst part: wondering about what might've been. Actually, there is no wondering. According to the ECCC Cyclocross Czar, had I finished even half of the B race, Rutgers would've won.

Nobody likes sour grapes.

Okay. Deep breath. This was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my fault. The rules are well-known, and I was acting outside of them. Nobody gets to expect an exception. I could've contacted the promoter, I could've made sure my upgrade went through in time, I could've blah blah f'in blah. The onus was on me.

I wouldn't turn down a refund, though.