Tonight I rode with the boys, K-man, Matty (run forest), and Buddy the leg breaker. Through 5 bridges and crack head bob we were rolling like we were in tron. No one talked, we just flew threw the single track. Inches separated our wheels are we carved through the single track like we were on rails. We played a dangerous game of chicken as no one was willing to back down tonight. The pace was ridiculously high, and we’d come to an opening and joke about going too fast, or how much we suffered. Matt (run forest) would dive back into the single track, or up one of the rolling climbs of fairhill, and just punch it. I would bite my lip, grit my teeth and cover his wheel, doing my best to not give him any light and space or satisfaction of a gap. It was that kinda of night.

I realized tonight that right now, today, I am riding the best mountain bike of my life. My weight has been good, climbing as good as it gets for me, and my timing just feels right. What’s that mean for the race this weekend? Maybe something, maybe nothing. I find it’s really not about results anymore as it is about the effort, the experience, and how much I was able to dig, able to give. It’s the process that keeps driving me on.