I can wait for the Winter work on this stuff. Cross is too much fun.
You know when you sit down to eat your nice gentrified "Mexican" burrito you try to relax and get through the rest of your day and the burrito place you have chosen to spend about $8 at decided it would be kitschy to play Mexican pop music. Well, that's not what I want for my American burrito experience. I prefer to have whatever other shit on the stereo they play. If I wanted Mexican pop music then wouldn't I go to a proper lard-using, questionable meat serving hole in the wall that serves menudo on Tuesdays? I know I would. The concept of eating my pseudo Mexican food in an environment stretching toward authenticity unnerves me. Where do they think they are? The only thing whiter than the snow around here is the clientele, pathetic as that sounds who are they trying to fool? Again eat at a real Mexican place and roll the dice, I will next time.
We are looking for a new house, we have outgrown the one we have. I was told that we are going to look at one tonight, there are 8 people living in this house, 2 parents and 6 kids, all 6 kids are home schooled by the mother. I asked if they were religious, when the reply was "Yes" I asked "Snakes or Roosters?" So, I'm not expecting to find any live rodents. Maybe an altar though.
One of the last times I rode West Ridge outside of a race it was so hot I had to stop and wring out my helmet and quiet the deafening echo of my heartbeat in my head. Riding the Ferrous (single) and the body English and stubbornness to not put a foot down or stop almost made me blackout. A 32:16 under me, not the best choice for that climb, but at the top I felt cleansed. Relieved of some weakness that had been lingering for some time, always better to try things the hard way. Like I said stubborn. Over the top the rigid fork and long descent again cleaned me a little more. The smile was sometimes hidden behind my gasping for air but it’s always there. I see the pictures from races and though I lack the Chris Horner/Ivan Basso smile-grimace I know I’m happy, always better to try to put out a good effort and appear smooth doing it, opposed to the bleeding out your eyes in a look of awful pain.
Excuses are always the same, thin and useless, kind of like a shitty chamois. I almost didn't ride yesterday when the snow was falling and the reward came in the form of a clear afternoon. The guilt would have been too much if the day was wasted. Especially in February when I'm back out there in the shit.
Today it was 17 degrees, with about a 15 mph headwind the whole way to work over frosted, iced, not yummy, slick path. It was beautiful, the tempo only slightly kept the body from shutting down. Even after 40 minutes I had chilled digits through booties and good lobster paws. The ice cream headache only made me look forward to winter rides. I don't think I got stronger today but I'll find out Saturday how pure the fuel is and what the purity pays.
I have a few vices. Cross of course being one of them, I don't know and never will know how much it has cost me, whether it's money, time, or pain. The key is the clean feeling I get after a race. Pure, unadulterated emptiness. If I finish a race with anything left, I cheated myself.