A conglomeration of crews merged on the lot at Munson, tonight. We harassed Mingo for his tardiness, but eventually, everyone rolled out, in good spirits. This season, that should be Winter, but is more like some kind of oh so lingering Fall, or fearfully early Spring, has most all of us in shorts and short sleeves. We'll pay for it this summer, when our state bird, the mosquito, hatches by the millions and takes his pound of flesh. But for now, it certainly makes for pleasant cycling weather.
I was openly mocked, for making truck and motorcycle noises, as the clay ribbon, and the day's troubles, rolled away beneath my wheels. For those who know me best, when the little kid bubbles to the surface, they know that I'm having fun. I've no urge to quell that little kid. He reminds me what to look for in life.
It's all about moments, and tonight was full of them. Laughing as Mingo smashed his pedals into anything over two inches tall, and laughing more as he sprawled like a gangly deer, over the most meager of logs. Feeling my bike shoot out of a berm that was hit just right. So much so that it reminded more of my surfing days, than mountain bikes. Smiling even more, as I blew the next one, like a first year rookie. Hearing Tiny Might squeal like a wood gnome, every time she panicked in the sand. Seeing the fog settle in, just inches above my head, making it feel like my head was about to get lost in the clouds.
Tonight was a good night, and I'm thankful that that script was filled.
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