GET ON WITH IT

abr liscense Last week I received a simple little piece of mail that would singularly readjust my focus, efforts,  drive, and perspective every time I get on my bike. It was my American Bicycle Racing license. I opened it and chuckled to myself that I paid $25 for the privilege of sacrifice, self-inflicted pain and countless smack downs at the hand (or should I say the legs) of the fitter and the faster. Funny thing how this license, wheel tag and a set of stickers might be the most meaningful pieces of paper I would receive all year.

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