The Shaky Arms

Just a few more hours and the weekend officially begins - whatever you do, go all in with it and hey, if you feel like spectating, you might remember that the UCI Masters World Championships are taking place at the Velo Sport Center, the 24th through the 29th - there will be a whole lotta fast paced action taking place among an international field of competitors. Check it out.

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 The riding wasn't going well at all; that old nemesis "cycling PTSD" had shown up and sown doubt and hesitancy all along the path stretching out of view ahead, a path that looked as gloomy as the lifeless, ashen sky. He had seen the tell-tale signs before, many times in fact - guys in groups rides riding with caution and leaving those bigger gaps, guys with pedaling hesitancy, and most obviously of all, the shaky arms (not the name of a motel straddling the San Andreas Fault). He had caught up to them riding solo on the streets, he had followed behind them in the bunch on race day. They weren't all newbies either, riders not yet used to the game. Just as often they were seasoned veterans, with a bullish mileage account to match the map of crows feet at the corners of their eyes.

He wondered if it was the same for everyone - the doubt and anxiety could, and did, creep in at any time and at any place - while riding a sedate sixteen along a peaceful bike path, or flowing down an asphalt ribbon in the mountains at over fifty miles per hour. The worst was not knowing the when or the where. Over time he had learned the only effective defense was blocking out the thoughts, keeping the mind busy with other things, focusing on something else. And thus when the other rider shot past, he saw it as the opportunity that it was - focusing on the pursuit. Besides, the other rider was wearing cut-off blue jeans and teeshirt - never mind that he had the legs of a Tour de France contender (albeit with a hairy coat), it was the choice of attire that galled and demanded the uptick in pace. More than anything though, the pursuit provided the focus that was needed. It could effectively seal the cracks that allowed apprehension to seep in and spread. To be continued...

I never did put these photos up from nearly a week ago now:

from Encanto Park to that seating area beside El Monte airfield is exactly 19.62 miles - 1962 was a quite good year as well. nothing left but to turn around, I guess

water in the ditch

e-bike donuts, because who doesn't like spending money on new tires?

the gathering - at Chalan Rest Stop