Twenty-Five Feet

 I suppose people who have ridden these trails as often as I have, ride twenty feet of where they physically are, if you know what I mean. We know where each rock is, each patch of sand or soft dirt, we know where the bermed turns are, the ones that allow us to carry just that little bit more speed. We know all these things and more, and because of that we are always setting up for what is twenty-five feet ahead; in essence we are always riding twenty-five feet ahead of where we are at any given moment. It is like that week after week, for months at a time, for most of the year, but then we reach the middle of August, and we swoop around one turn while preparing for the next (twenty-five feet ahead, of course), and wham! we come face to face with the sun, and it blinds us to everything twenty-five feet ahead. Good thing we know what is in that space of trail.

as i rode home i noticed this red-tailed hawk up on a street light, so i stopped to take his photo. i was hoping to get a shot of him taking flight, but he didn't seem interested in leaving. i slapped my thigh a few times in an attempt to scare him, but he just turned his head, you know, like a dog will do when it is not sure of what it is hearing, and looked down at me like i was some kind of crazy