unfold-fold-unfold-fold

Thanks Marty for setting me up for an account of the evening.
What a great night, bike racing in the heart of the city, balmy summer weather, drunken revelers, the heady scent of embrocation, very little not to like.
My first race since last years Mull cross, I figured the Folding Race would be a good fun way to ease myself back into a race frame of mind, yikes, I wasn't quite prepared for the fierce pace and brutality of the wee wheeled race. The lack of warm up lap left us all somewhat cold but when the gun was fired we were off, now I haven't had my Brompton long and I've never had to unfold in anything like a hurry which became apparent as I watched most of the field disappear in front of me but unfold I did. I launched my lardy ass over the saddle and wrestled with pedals to get he legs turning. First lap onto Victoria Street and I felt good quickly passing several riders on the cobbles and the front of the race was in sight but by the top of the climb the pointy end were already on Candlemaker Row and gone. Still I had Gary Tompsett in my sight so that was a carrot enough. Lap two and the climb was somewhat slower and hurt, I had slotted into a position which I guess was around mid pack, I ground it out but started to get a dry, iron taste in my mouth, my chest was ripping apart and the combined smell of beer and fast food was both intoxicating and nauseating. Lap three and Big Gary still dangled around 15 metres in front, I clawed it back to about five on the last ascent and then he took his ebay special onto Candlemakers Row and was gone. One last corner and a push for the line, I couldn't believe just how hard the whole thing was.
Two things.
1. I don't ever want to do a Crit race
2. I love my Brompton

A great night out, my lungs still hurt this morning!