1. Shock: Damn, how did all these other guys get past me? How are they so fucking fast?
2. Denial: I am not this slow. Those fuckers are cheating. They cut the course. They have better tires. Better suspension. Better lives.
3. Anger: I fucking hate this shit. This bike sucks. Piece of shit. Waste my damn weekend bouncing off of trees and getting used as a berm by horny, adrenaline addled teenagers.
4. Bargaining: If I can just pass this guy, I will take it easy for the rest of the race. I will mow the lawn next weekend, I promise. One more rear tire to get me through the season.
5. Guilt: I wish I had loctited those sprocket nuts. Why did I skip those days at the gym? I'm sorry I ate the whole pizza. I'm sorry I just ran you and your shiny KTM over. I'm sorry I spent my savings on another dirt bike.
6. Depression: So tired and sweaty, just want to die. This is so hard, whole body hurts. Too fucking old for this bullshit. I'm going to crash again, I just know it. I want my mommy.
7. Acceptance: I am slow. I will always be slow. Dirt bikes hurt. They will always hurt. I will do this again as soon as possible. I will never learn.
|Judging by the look of disdain on the face of the young girl in the tye-dyed shirt, she can hear me crying......|