yesterday, I had the worse day on my bike ever. I pulled myself from the race 2 laps in, dripping blood from the nose. A dead engine. No spark. Wrong tire treads. and still It was a good day.
I laid in bed, early, I was so tired, at 8:30.
On Sat. I sat on the line, with a smile, and pep. Rolled my tire in the first of the race, and ran to the pit. I exited with the 55+ on my ass. I thought for a brief second to pull up to not go so hard to save some for Sunday. I had nothing to lose, I could ride my race, and off I went, harder, deeper, relentless. I spent it all.
I woke last night around 2am, still a bit tired, but brain roaring alive, thinking about cross
I started riding, everything was a race, every ride, it was incredible to push myself, against my friends, freds, carrots. I posesed a Naive-ity Strenght, I was to dumb to notice how or why I felt, to full of the thrill to worry about form, wanting to prove myself, and new that I had so many challenges ahead.
well, I've learned something, my limits, and somehow, I liked it better when I didn't know. I did not know what I could not do. Everything was achievable. Now, its work, prep, skill,...
what was good about yesterday? I guess its sorta why I race, to fail, to get beat, humbled, crushed, that ugly pitted feeling of such a poor performance, and, to think, a lot of people never learn what that feels like.
So today, a bright sun lightens my mood, a late call for work, and working with peeps I enjoy and like a bunch.
I look forward to the future,
I got my camera out and took a few photos, and at a nice berm which you could make into a jump, I pushed the tape in, leaning. and as each rider came to the berm, I think they knew what I wanted. Air.