As I was driving home last night I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the community criterium, aka the night at the races. Work has been a big fat hole that is sucking me in deeper and deeper, but ya know what? I’m OK with that because I still have the flexibility I need to not turn into an ugly, bitter beer face Keystone drinkin’ man.
That’s 4 weeks in a row that I’ve missed the road races. But ‘cha know what? That’s the last thing I needed on Tuesday night. Somebody on Drunk Cyclist said that road racing isn’t about who’s the best/fast/strongest, it’s all about who can fuck over the rest the best. If there is a better metaphor for American life – then tell me because I don’t know what could top that random comment on DC.
That’s why I ride mountain bikes………and I ride ‘em into the ground until the frames are broken and the parts are shattered because it’s better than me falling apart.
Last night I needed time alone riding in the woods. A cool breeze, hard packed trails from monsoon rain, riding my own pace and my own crazy trails to clear the junk from my cabeza. I left the garage on a mission, and no-dabbed Lower Oldham in a 32x19 gear. That doesn’t mean crap to you, but to no-dab Lower Oldham is a good day on the bike for me. It’s actually a great day because it wasn’t even hard. The rains had rid the trail of dust and so traction was as good as it is in November. I felt fit, and rode smooth through the tech. But I wasn’t done.
Riding across Rocky Ridge gave me a chance to just put my brain in pure MTB mode – because the trail is an up/down fiesta of tech and the crapola at workola disappeared like it always does. Gone. What fire ban that could impact group business? What immigration law that could decimate my staff in two weeks? So what about the fact that my job description is expanding like the oil spill in the Gulf? Gone…..G O N E, gone.
That’s why I ride mountain bikes.
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