I belong to a secret society.
A hood, sisters and brothers.
I looked at my shoes at the end of Solstice cross,
I am done, mentally, physically, my spirit,
the lust, shine, gloss, is scratched, stained
the color, now seems gaudy, the bravado is old.
and this society I belong,
some earn buttons, some give hugs,
some take podium pictures,
maybe one of my favorite ones form over the years,
men who have raced a lot, won a lot,
goofy a bit, hard earned win.
Mens 45+ Solstice CX
Saturday I raced Solstice Cross, aged down, to 45+. got a back of the field start, jammed up in the first tight corner, staggered calmly, with a strong yank, I was off and free.
I got what I wanted, I battled Luxy and Joey Daub,
I had 'em, got a good gap, toward the end of the race, and decide to ride the wee small barriers, and of course,
biffed and baffed, my face in the ground.
of course Lux was cool, as he passed "you hurt"... me "fine"
and he dropped me,
then the Daub Luxx, passed just before the Whoops
and I caught a bit of the corner on the downhill remount and made friends with the frozen ground,
sat up, and sighed, again beaten by the Deluxx's,
I enjoyed my loss.
I have a cooler of unshared beer,
concerns and worries, over a member of the clan,
I have legs to revive, for Nationals.
and a love of my foes, friends, the spirits of my sport.