I DFL’d my first ever race, and that’s alright by me
It was cool to pop by and see people being stoked on bikes.
The world began to melt away through the mist. Gradually, there were no more trees, no more birds, no more rocks, no more sounds. The only thing I could see was the tire in front of me, the road directly under my feet as I pushed my bike, and the edge of the next curve before it dropped away to a thousand feet of nothing.
The national parks I know are a far cry from those envisioned by Edward Abbey and John Muir.
Before last weekend, I had never been to a cyclocross race.
I flashed a peace sign at the trail counter as Kristen and I crossed the beam, adding our wheels to the thousands that have taken this spin over the last two summers. I weaved over the centre line for the first time without fear. Not having to worry about some bus coming bawling around the corner and taking me out was a relief.
I’ve been trying something new.
Quiet roads and long climbs characterize the island