all my skin has shed. bicycle racer mind has left the building. in a timeframe slightly less than two years, i’ve transitioned into a regular guy. no more do i think about having a lithe body. or obsess about how i can shift gears while standing, and with such elan too. i still like tan lines, but that doesn’t count. and i want that my tellason jeans should fall off my hips. skinny is okay. but it’s not the driver (anymore.) nor is weight, though less is better than more. it’s just a thing. like hair. or no hair. or to be fair, fewer hairs than you’d like if you actually had a say in the matter.
it’s september and i’m entering my seventh month in the little ring. the one on the inside. that phrase, water seeks its own level. i’m comfortable just twiddling for three hours. sometimes five. and seeing things at a snail’s pace. i call it meandering. and i betchoo that after the gravel craze comes and goes, meandering will be the next big thing. think of all the safety pins we’ll save when numbers are no longer needed. or don’t. makes me no matter. the bicycle, and my time on one, is different today than it ever was. and my body is just along for the ride.
All This By Hand
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