I covered some ground this weekend. Pisgah was in a good mood and I’m smiling back, legs are sore too. Point to point, Bent Creek to Cove Creek Campground, 24 hours of Obiefest, than point to point Cove Creek to Bent Creek. Otto turned two, Lucy had her first wipeout on the strider, trying to sleep reminded me of Bonaroo, we shivered and worried about the kids freezing, maybe slept after the last dog barked, then woke and slowly realized how sun and warmth can ease the aches.
Winter’s broke and Pisgah is refreshed. The ground is saturated and spongy, the beeches are washed up with new rocks, the trails are drying out, and the hemlocks are all dead. I like to see the little changes over a winter and think about time. Pisgah is at least six thousand and one. Thinking about geological time makes me feel ok with things, I’m alright existing in geological time.
I haven’t been riding as much as I’d hoped but I feel ok considering. If there’s one thing I can do it’s wing it. Carpenters are famous for that. On the job you have a plan but you learn when to shelve the plan and look at the house. I’ve got winging it down. It might be a great attribute and downfall as such things go. As this year’s racing season comes upon me I can tell one thing and that’s that I’ll be going back to the tried and true strategies of winging it, getting loose on the downhill’s, and saying my prayers. Right now I’m just thankful for a great weekend, an epic with my dad on Saturday, Trish getting a good one today, and a solo mission home.
Oh, and also thankful to be soon riding the lightest bike of my life, a Scott. It’s lining up just like I planned.