Saturday was spent creeping through clouds at 8,000 feet with Tom on a trail I've never ridden getting pelted with rain and generally loving it. Definitely the east coast kid in me. Rain and 37'F sure, that's normal. Clouds broke Sunday mid-day enough to cheer the cross racers on and squeeze in a road ride. Dinner and a concert to follow. Enough for a great weekend. But I long for a damp dark road in Somewheresville, VT-MA. Climbing in absolute silence. The only way possible while riding through the
fog. I miss the cheers of friends as we slip, slide, and dart through yellow tape at a cross race. Yearning for the Sunday ruckus with great
friends, exquisite food, and warm hearts. Everytime I relive that cross season I smell an autumn Sunday, soup, and the warmth of friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment