hell yeah

i loves me some NorCross ...


but the soul of CycloCross is up north, baby.

Portland mud blazers. (VsNooze pic stolen, blah, blah, blah)

- - -

Reverse the polarities ... and you've got Solvang. Christ - what a schticky place. So much nicky-knack crap in 45 stores ... the same tinsel-drift wastrels wrapped with seller's care in little Danish pastries. and the people walking the streets?

crazy. it's like throwing Reno and Carmel into bed with each other and waiting for the backdoor action offspring.

yukky.

- - -

But the riding. Oh baby.

For the first time in I can't remember how long, i went climbing ... just to climb. Pedaling up the pitches for no other reason than the enjoyment of it. And strangely enough, it sparked that stupid little step-child, ambition, to stir in my stomach.

When you mix in a bit of realism (oh, wisdom ... why so tardy in showing thy smooth face?) with a dash of youthful vigor (viagra rules) ~ there is a middle-ground, a platform from which to launch one's self, solidly, into the atmospherics.


There is a contentedness, a gratifying exhalation of breath when beginning the task. There is an unweighting, an unbinding of tensed shoulders, a lifting of the obscuring veil when one realizes that there are yet challenges waiting on the horizon.


Movin' the feet, yo.