My dad and I rode over to the trails earlier this week and found conditions to be surprisingly good.
A little slick in the corners, a little greasy where the sun was warming up the ground.
I'm not racing at all this season.
If my dad had agreed to team up with me and Bill, I would have done the Marysville relay for fun (on my birthday, so, yeah...for fun)...
Needless to say, BP wasn't really into the idea and honestly, I wasn't even remotely bummed when he said no thanks.
I used to be a bike racer, I used to be fast, I used to win, I used to lose...
I used to love packing up/fueling up/lining up.
I used to love crossing the finish line...first/last/second to last/third/somewhere in the middle of the pack.
Now I am just having fun and proving to myself that the fun rides are just as good for me, just as important, just as challenging, and every bit as meaningful.
As we started climbing away from the ruins, I spun out on a root and clumsily toppled over into a patch of brambles.
I fell because I wasn't paying attention...I guess the ruins are always going to distract me a little bit from now on.