5-7-5

Too much time open eyes,

Clarity fades as the road,

Rises to meet my tires.

Pedals

Aside from developing a growing fetish for nicer tires (it's not entirely sexual) I dropped a pedal yesterday. No crash or real consequence other than scuffed pedal and little hop in the rear wheel. A moment's inattention. Not like I wasn't paying attention. Just rolling along but it made me think-stupid, I know. I have these wonderful bicylces to ride and I think I take good care of them but is there more I could do, either for me or the bikes? Right now I'm sleeping well, 15 hour training weeks take care of that. I'm eating well, not too much. Good coffee and treats as treats. Not daily, though more than I should, or deserve. The scent of cross is not in the air yet> I think the word is that CX this year is going to be big. Maybe a budget for travel, maybe nats in Bend? Maybe my ass on the line for a race outside CO? The equipment is shaping up, bikes? Check. Wheels? Almost. Tires? Yeah, those are the aforementioned fetish that develops in a head that is never clear of another thought of something that may or may not matter at least in the meantime but in the present it's one more fun thing to ruminate on. Now the Tour begins Saturday, evening TV for 3 weeks. All of the early rides are paying off. Form is here for summer stuff, singlespeeds offer precious little shelter, if you're sucking, it's clear. If you're not sucking- it's only slightly obvious. Last week, I didn't suck that bad. Always something else to strive for. One more reason to avoid the treats and get out of bed before a reasonable person should be out of bed. 4:30 a.m. rides? Check. It's summer, get out of the window now while you can.

Bits to chunks

The little pieces of pedal are getting bigger by the day, more and more time in the chamois has the head a lot more quiet. Sleep comes in welcomed chunks instead of bits. The pedals turn at a good pace and with the time sinks all around I manage my time.

Clearly racing and the time constraints it creates isn't for everyone. The more I prepare myself and get out and do the work the more I feel good about it. I know it's unlikely to make a dent in much of anything except for the bumper of that next car to pull out too fast as I roll by. I wouldn't know what to do if I didn't do it. I likely would stop sleeping all together, function in a sort of ether that consisted 20 minute naps and incessant nausea. Instead, I ride.

Clowns

I'm not overly friendly when I ride. I try to be polite and respectful, try to show courtesy, while I enjoy the solitude. After all, I mostly ride alone and foster the sheer joy that I am out riding, again, mostly alone. Yesterday long was relative, not having the mid season form a lot of guys have I went up and over Vail Pass, into Vail and flipped, on the way back down into Copper I saw a guy on a singlespeed road bike (not fixed, single, silly) drafting the big fat guy I see around the county that has no sense of polite greeting. Mind you, he was sporting a 2010 BMC team kit. I passed the 2 of them up high on the path and descended down into Copper at what I thought was a good pace, 5 minutes later, half way thru Copper, Fatty buzzes me, no greeting, no polite wave, not a thing. Whatever, the fat clown passed the skinny one on a wide open section of road when he couldn't get his cattle ass around the tighter corners up high. I let them go, they began to descend into Frisco, I went and found a Nutrageous at the Conoco, I had earned it.

Focus

I'm afraid, everyday I see the fade coming, whether it's the car that passes too close or the cyclist coming the other way on the path, always wondering what's going to take me out next. Maybe it's more of a slow burn, slow to fade out, time expires and I'm left there, caught out, somewhere in the middle between the family, the bike and the job. making the best decisions with at least the first on the list. Touch the fade and it clears up, like an instant photo on an old Kodak. Slowly focusing and slowly becoming clear, what passes as crystal clear these days. They say a baby sees everything without a tint because new vision is the clearest, all these years I'm sure have fried mine, I can only see as clear as I can. It has to be enough.

Turn around

The motivation is like a revolving door, always bringing in new air to mix with the stale stench of what didn't get done. The faster the door turns around the slower I seem to go. I need more time at my time, this whole getting up as the coyotes and fox go to sleep gets tough. Bed feels good even at 5 am in almost broad daylight. The door turns again. I wish the pedals turned over so easily.