Geared

Lately for whatever reason I have been lusting after the experience way more than the constant effort to keep up with the latest technology. I'm not driving anywhere to ride, I'm kitting up and riding out my door, bundled almost as to test the limits of the so-called winter gear. One tip from me for all of the companies out there; make your shit breathe. We generate plenty of heat in the winter but the moisture lingers, and I'm not a big sweater. 

When I was in high school I had a few years of riding already in my legs on a hand-me-down Ross 10 speed and I finally got a pair of road shoes, I couldn't afford Sidis (not much has changed) so I ended up with a sweet pair of Dettos.

These lasted years, I used to re-glue the upper to the sole every month and the toe clip strap wore a hole in the side of the shoe next to my pinky toe. Everyday, about 2 hours before school and then another 90 minutes after school. Only using old issues of Winning to figure out what training was. Dodging stoned classmates and wanting to be Dave Stohler out on the roads made me smile, usually alone, who else rode before Lemond and then Armstrong put road cycling on the map in the Eastern US? I had a wool jersey and 1 pair of shorts I washed every day. Not much else was needed, I'd wear jeans if it was cold and/or long underwear, who could afford tights back then, coming from a traditional sports family I would've had better luck asking for a new baseball glove (I didn't play baseball after age 10) than help getting me winter/cold weather cycling gear.

Pedal

I'm out on the road, hiding in plain sight, putting in my early miles thru the late winter sun/sleet, instead of complaining about it all I'm instead closing out the noise, pulling on the shoe covers everyday to clear my head and fill my legs. No feigning apathy or ennui, just a clear determination to make the most of the good weather. No car time to ride, there are roads at 9000 feet that are out my door. Not going for the roads that are at 5000 feet that may be cleaner, warmer and more hospitable. At least the pedals are turning.

Negotiation

Negotiating with myself to get the most time I can for the window with which it needs to fit. A bit more of a buffer than I have had in years past but nonetheless I welcome the time and subtle ache after a few consecutive hard(er) days. I know the acid builds like water behind a beaver dam until it breaks, whether I opt for time off the bike or the weather beats me to the punch. Train with the sun right now and when the snow comes an hour on the rollers feels earned. Work done, not a source to walk through kitchen empty handed, for fear of slowness later in the spring. Bargaining with the head in place, so the legs to go fast later.

Digging

The ache from yesterday sharpened overnight into the unclear fatigue that comes from nothing. I mean nothing- as in I didn't do a goddam thing. Weak and tired I limped through the day chased by the hunger that comes from a bigger week. Today is better, happily pseudo rested and ready to start digging another hole.

Crisp

Crisp, but not fried... Broken dishes, clearly there is much more work to be done before number 1.  Listening to the wind quiets and drowns out the negative, leaving more than just good and bad, happy to be pedaling and feeding the addiction of the nightly ache in the legs. I don't know what the substitute would be...without the bike I'd find something I suppose. At least for now I'm clear, not good, not fast, but I get to feel like I'm getting to that place.

Buffalo

All parts of the buffalo have a use, whether they are the offal cuts or the prime it all has a purpose. The work is finding them within the piles. Leaving behind heaps and mounds too thick that the sounds are faded and the rotting of the flesh mixes with the too sweet, the saccharine wafts out to leave the nose stronger than the shovel, more focused than the eye. I try to listen and fail, then the good pieces are left over where I haven't been, left in plain sight. Crisp and clear like a ribbon of asphalt pushed thru the forest, meandering where the topography allows, like a swiftly established stream, days or weeks instead of eons.

Clumsy

Monkey in the middle with who knows what on either side, I guess that puts me in the middle. I have the wheels and the long view. The edge, long point of the view isn't a sunny place, Sunshines only so far, so long and then it's light fades, the trick, the key and the solution is to get your own light on and clear the path, cut out a patch of light from the long night.

Seeing things quite close to what they really are

I see things that aren't immediately disparate. I always look for the negative space, waste makes me unhappy, food, resources whatever it is but I get bothered by it. I know surfeit is our undoing as a culture, as a world, but I can only control what is in my vicinity, I lack the power to change beyond what I can touch, only to get the most out of what I have. Sure, the activist sees everything as bigger than it is, I want things smaller, I want less, of nearly everything except miles. My pieces wilt in the shade, outside in the sun, snow and rain I thrive and the negative space fades into a clearer picture of my future, whatever it is it's better in the saddle, better inside my head and much better out. With the caffeine fading 10 hours after and my ears more full than my stomach I have a longer view than I've had in months. The longer days and shorter nights are good for the legs.

Untitled

When I was in 2nd grade I became friends with a kid who lived real close by, only about a half mile, but it was across a cornfield, which was fine, it was a safe walk but since he was gone every summer I only had a few months of the year where we would play after school and walk home from each other's houses. The corn grew (it's now houses) and was pretty high by the time school ended and was about harvested by the time school restarted in the fall and he was back from summer camp. But mid winter I'd be walking home from his house in the dark and sometimes snowy harvested cornfield for 15 minutes of fear. You see, I am and always have been afraid of the dark, It's been a constant, that thing I can't see is going to get me and if it's dark-it's there. If it's light out-I'm safe. I've mentioned it before here but lately the situation has had me doing my skis and rides in the light. No operating on the margins. Free time, right?
I can't help but draw parallels between sprinting thru a cornfield after dark and where I am right now. In the dark but close to safety, only a little sprint to the warmth of the next step. I know support isn't endless and at some point I'll commit to a new path. Just like running in the dark across the cut corn it's a broad swath, I only need a narrow one cut out from the breadth of that field. I don't ask too many questions only giving myself answers to the ones I know.

Nada

Hours before the sun comes up you can see that purple light coming out in pieces. Thru the snow, It's February, in August it pushes me out the door. Today it's different, today I have nowhere to go but where I am, comforting and defeating at the same time. No hats to wear, no lines to cross. Manufacture success and build a better future.