I sauntered into the Wilmington Grand Prix. The toughest crit to do. With spurs, chaps, low slung belt, calm nerves of steel, my steed, and pistols. No one cared, the gap opened a hair, it soon got away from me and the field was up the road. No place for a bloke riding like me today, no place at all. I never should of acted like it was a gun fight. Thinking all I had to do, was wait to pull the trigger at the right time.
This week I've sat back and let the bike take me where ever it wanted to go, just easy.
out to Valley forge, to spin on sunny green days. The cx bike was happy, I was happy.
Belmont, the Wiss, down Nature Boy. No sprints, no Drives, and not at Great Valley 30.
I think I am becoming a huge liberal biker, like as in college, as in a liberal artist.
biking; short, race, woods, errands, pavement, it makes me happy, simple.
Music, art, work, movies, historic things in Philly, ...happy too.
Painting the shed, with a smile.
I'll stop in the winter, on the just riding easy days, and listen to the wind.
Not often during the summer I pause to listen while riding, I did.
It didn't sound like winter, with the leaves, and birds.
I was flat mentally not going 100 percent in the hardest crit there is around here. Today,
I let a gap go,