I’ve just spent 2 weeks recharging my battery. Sure, I’ve spent time on the bike, after all what kind of vacation does not include cycling? But it’s been 2 weeks since I’ve really pushed myself through any prolonged efforts or taken a visit to the pain cave. Since then, I’ve stopped mid-rides for Italian ice, conversed with friends during rides without gasping mid story, and even been able to even hum a few bars of my favorite Taylor Swift ditty while rolling on the fattie. Basicly, I’ve been riding on rainbows, in the company of unicorns and fuzzy bunnies for the last 2 weeks.
Sometimes the perfect birthday gift is something you cannot buy. In this case it was the perfect early spring day for a road ride. Forty five degrees, and a mid afternoon sun that warmed the cheeks and nose. All while simultaneously being challenged by a sharp little headwind that tested our legs on an early season scoot. My cycling sensei felt this perfectly stark backdrop captured the spirit of our day’s ride.
As usual he was right.
Frankie was a trailblazer. It was 1985 and my high school-aged brother comes home with what? A new bike. Our friends are buying stereos for their rusted out shit-can Chevys and Oldsmobiles but Frankie bought a bike. I guess we both had been tilting an ear and a flipping’ an eyeball to the TV coverage of the American phenom and the goings on overseas in the world of international bicycle racing. However even with Lemond making noise, It was still a very quiet sport. Especially in the “get the F outta my way, cause I own the F ‘n road and no cyclists should ever be caught dead riding on the streets of the Motor F’n City!”