Munson Monday is back in full swing. Munson Monday is of course, not a race, but rather a display of naked aggression and chaos similar to the encierro de San Fermin. As Neal said to the crowd of 30 riders,”Okay flat bellies, get going, you know who you are.” I stood poised on the pedal, gunning for the last flat belly. I marked him and we were off, leaving the rest of the riders to enjoy a Munson promenade in the late spring air. I enjoy a stately procession now and then, but for me Munson Monday is a chance to run with the bulls and plumb the depths of my tank. I traded spots (got passed) by a kid on an 18 year-old bike that creaked like Granny’s rocker. I hung onto his wheel with the grip of death and clocked a personal best time of 32:55 for the 7.5 mile lap. You can click the title to see the stats if you are into that.