The Hillbilly Hustle. a real humans race, one when you walk down the drive, you walk into a new world. You live, breathe, race, cyclocross. All is taken care of. A lived in look, tents, fires smokin, dogs, kids, makeshift food stand, and cold kegs awaiting. Everything is done right, with a down home love. You are given a chance to step into the more real world, the one where someone says go or a whistle is blown, and you move forward as fast,... with as hard of a pedaling as you can muster. Your life stops while you race. You are the main character in this story.
Images, brief intense thoughts are buried in my mind, from the race. Split second bits of in focus. Scattered.
no recap for me tonight, just a real heartfelt respect to all those, ...to the one who stepped up and made it possible.
an incredible storm poured rain down on Philadelphia the other night. I awoke to the sound of it pounding down on the roof of the house.
The river came over and up, blocking my interval trail.
I turned around and stopped for a bit, I pulled the ear buds blasting the raging music, motivational in some way, out of my ears. I listened to the rivers deep growl.