Mashed Potatoes

I'm going to race at the Lost River Classic on Saturday. It's a road race in West Virginia. The race is only 30 miles, but everyone's been telling me that it's a nasty climber's course. Each of the three laps we'll be doing features roughly 1000 feet of climbing. This might be shocking to you, but I climb like a tranquilized sloth or a molasses-covered sack of potatoes. I'm too stubborn and lazy to head out to where there's any real climbing and am perfectly content with mashing up tiny local hills in my 53 x 19. I don't think I'm even going to bother swapping out my 12-23 cassette with the 12-27 I stole from one of the shop's master mechanics, The Dragon. I have the tools and everything to do it, but I just think a 27-tooth cog looks too ridiculous to put on my very "Pro" looking aluminum, Rival-equipped bike. Plus, I've heard some crazy things about this whole "spinning" concept. I don't like it. It sounds like black magic to me and I'll avoid it at all costs. It's too bad I sold my fixie because I'd rather slap brakes on that piece than install a nerdy, climb aid like a 12-27 cassette. Bring on the mashed potatoes!