Riding with my MP3...

My nephew "Super Chunk" or Justin as his mom likes to call him...

So the other night I get home from work, throw on the lycra super suit and hit the door. I blast out of my garage imagining I am a tour day france racer leaving the start house. I have one mission tonight: turn myself inside out. 4 minutes later I'm in fairhill, ripping the single track, I'm going out to look for hills. In my ears I hear the sweet sounds of Alice in Chains:

"Ain't found a way to kill me yet."


I suffer over the "punctured lung" climb, and turn around, ride back to the bottom and do it a couple more times. It hurts better this way. I am suffering, but not in a bad way. I'm liking it. I feel good, I crest the top again, Jesus and Mary Chain sing

"Just like honey..."

I head up another climb, out of the saddle trying to get as much power out of my legs as I can. My legs are tired. I have abused them. I am all over my bike trying to get over one last hill, just one more. I come out of the skills section and hit the 3 field climb. I trick myself "dude if you sprint up the steep section the rest will be easy..." I realize I lied to myself, up is never easy. I make it through this section, and have the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. It has to be a piece of my lung. That really hurt. But still in a good way. Dave Grohl sings:

"Is someone getting the best of you?"

I tell myself the climbing is over and I head for the fairgrounds. In the very last section of single track I come across a kid, maybe 12 years old. As our trails come together, he stands up and attacks. He's trying to drop me. I stand, and cover his wheel. He doesn't look back, but he knows I'm there. I don't know this kid, but he looks familiar. We turn onto a fire road and head down a hill. He jumps me again. I let him go knowing there is a climb on the other side. As the road turns up, I roll up on him. I get his attention and say, "always save something for the final burst." He is tired. "get on my wheel" I tell him. We climb slowly for another 100 yards and I show him where the road kicks one last time. I tell him, "look here, at the end of the race if it's close this is where you want to give it everything. It gets tough here." He looks in my eyes, and attacks me. Taking me in a sprint as we ride up to see his father Wilfredo of team B-line and the DTS. We exchange pleasantries, I compliment his son. Queen sing in my ears,

"why can't we give love one more chance?"

I get home, tired, beaten, but I feel good. Yeah. That was alright...


respect
fatmarc