I am self-employed, as a freelancer, I drive a lot, all over the place, to work. I never remember those drives, other more than I went up 95, or out the turnpike, across the Walt Whitman. I'm sure that along the way, I felt emotions driving; about the ass tailgating, or a to slow in the left lane car, but all those occurrences disappear, there is no need for them taking up memory space in my head.
Saturday, I turned left onto Bryn Marw ave. and picked up speed, it is damp and still cold,
and the wonderful dunking my head into a large pail of ice water hits me.
The frozen ground of Belmont's trails is already getting slimey, and as much as I enjoy the cx feeling, of drift, and float, sinking into the ground and leaving a deep tread hole is bad for us.
I stayed in a steady state work zone, on the mountain bike slogging along.
3hrs.
I'm always amazed but never surprised by how I roll up to my home finishing a loop, I can come in at a target, 3hrs, or very close, a 10 seconds, or 3 minutes off, but pretty much right on time.
There is an self satisfying gratification of keeping it moving forward, towards a challenging end.
and I train to be faster, for racing.
Parachute hill was empty, none of the malarkey drunk cheers from the CX single speed worlds crowded along it, in the way, celebrating, pushing, enjoying the unexpected heavy snow fall.
up Summit climb, not on my ss cx bike,as I rode on a water ice loop, just getting on top of the pedals, turning, up to speed, and smiling big a bit at the young Featherman, who's working on getting his pedals to turn, the suffering youngster.
I'll turn right, down the cobbles, up Barren Hill, past where Lafayette made a stand so Washington could get away, Past the abandoned property on Andorra road, where I'd build our house if we won the lottery.
Back onto the spraying mud of Forbidden drive,....onward I'm rolling my bike, every second an embedding memory.
Bikes are grand!
dlowe
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