Where is this going I dunno. Back on the bicycle in February after a disastrous (laughable) ride at Natz in Reno only weeks earlier. All these months of riding. Then more riding. Then training. It’s not the same anymore. It is. But it isn’t. By August I was carrying good fitness. Was nearly but not quite in my 30″ Telleson jeans. Had killer tan lines. And cheekbones. The telltale signs of being ready.
Then I got distracted with life. By life. The rides have become something I gots to do to keep the momentum. The energy flow thing. To get leaner and tanner rather than to push the envelope. Don’t ponder what happened. I just don’t know. We’ll find out Saturday when I lace ’em up and pin on a number. I’m kinda’ psyched. Not too. I fear failure. Worse yet, I wonder if the tank is empty.
I’ve been racing since 1971. That’s a lot of starts. Almost as many finishes. For the first time in all of it, I wonder why. I’m as prepared to get a beating as I once was to hand one out. In a word, that’s defeat. But autumn beckons. And with it comes change. Maybe some reflection. And growth. And cyclocross.
All This By Hand
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