Thoughts from the end of last season.

As the race season approaches here are some words and thoughts from the end of last season.

The months before this have been tedious; your mental road map has been dotted with pushpins of memories from North to South and East to West. Weekends of traveling with companions and friends from mountain to hotel back to mountain and eventually home. If the trip to the race is filled with the “high” of excitement, the return is certainly the “crash”. The smell of sweat and frustration lingers heavy in the cab of a truck. Long is gone the “get to know you” repertoire of conversation and overtime has been replaced with some of the deepest inner thoughts of your own personal being. Eventually this well will run dry and the topic will shift from gas mileage, old girlfriends and tire pressure. Conversation never steers to the week ahead; the workweek has no place on these trips, it never comes up.

All the signs have been read many times, billboards of vacation getaways and the latest offerings from some mascot controlled chain restaurant. Your eye, constantly trying to decipher your location in the now unfamiliar light. The routes have been honed down to there most efficient form, swapped directions in mountain parking lots and over dinner with trusted friends have created the unrepeatable step by step directions to and from. “2 lefts a right and a left, you can’t miss it” these are the detailed directions usually spat from mouth. The newcomer who inquires will furrow their brow in slight understanding, they even nod in confirmation but their eyes reek of confusion.

The shortest distance between two points is a straight-line. This ethos is embedded in all racers and makes its appearance on the return home. Cut corners and crossing the double yellow is required to subtract minutes from the clock. Feeding is kept to a minimum and if required is coupled with refueling. Efficiency is key it keeps minutes on the clock and greenbacks in the wallet.

You cringe to think that winter is on the way. Don’t get me wrong; we like to see the seasonal changes. The anticipation of trees becoming that fiery orange, the wind picking up it’s pace and the cold intermittent blast that comes from the late afternoon air. Autumn is the equivalent of 5:00 pm on a late September day. The smell of dried leaves and rotting vegetation actually is a welcome. As the months progress the temperature drops and the freeze of winter blankets your city or town. Alternatives are found to keep idle hands from mischief. For some 20 replaces 26 and the crack of a throttle or roll of 23c tires can be just the outlet needed to keep us sane. The weather of the East is a different animal than the West. Old man winter can be a mean old bastard.

Upon arrival home, words will be short. Unloading the vehicle like a trip from some demented grocery store, how much can I really carry? Bags and gear you have lifted way too many times before have not gotten any lighter. Your emotions are sometimes mixed, happy to be home, sad to go to work. Sorry you did not pedal faster; happy you’re not broken. That inviting feeling of home is enough to make you smile. Bags get dropped, the shower and then the bed, most importantly, your shower and your bed.