I'm listening to Pandora a lot lately, funny how your tastes are your constant even when switching up channels, mentally, musically or philosophically. The music that powers the time on the bike isn't the engine, it's the oil.
Riding the long miles in the sun brings on less fatigue than the shorter winter rides in the snow. The sun adds power, flattens hills, fills muscles, another day over 6 hours is easy, 2 hours in 15 degrees? Hard.



The early morning light has it's copper hue, not quite bright, and certainly not warm. While the rest of the country sweats I wake to a hoodie and the thoughts of my first hot espresso of the day. Maybe the -30 degree nights we had in February are still chilling things here, at least the snow is faded all the way and it only lingers in couloirs up at 11,000 ft.
My head cold has taken residence in my chest, maybe it'll just move out this weekend but truth is I've been abusing it too. Not really wanting to let up as the weather shifted to proper summer temps and no 3 inches of rain 90 minute deluge.


For all 3 people who read this excuse the mess going on at timfaia dot com while I figure what happened. Sorry.


After Firecracker

I love the crisp fatigue lingering in my legs right now, a hard earned discomfort that is forever mine. I can't take my head out of the good, the bad from yesterday isn't lingering the way it usually does. I went to the place and stayed there, largely in comfort, not knowing what the legs and body could do I just rode the bike and let the sticks fall. The rocks were kind, the shoes now smell like too many late night bar urinals. Easing into recovery is not an option, it all goes back up the tree for Saturday.