Over the years, I have touched on the subject of cycling and since it is my motivation for getting back into shape, I feel it deserves an explanation.
About 15 years ago, for one reason or another, I was enamoured with the idea of bicycle touring. To head out into the unknown with only the items you could stuff into your saddle bags. With the idea firmly placed in my head, I set out alone, and sometimes with a close friend (now racing for the same team I am on) into the Mount Hood National Forest. In many ways, it was much like the backpacking I do today, minus two wheels.
My bike kept me out of trouble, gave me self esteem, and kept me in great shape. Soon after, I took a chance on racing and was hooked. With a (downhill) maximum sprint speed of 53MPH, I took a top 3 placing in every novice category my first year, only being beaten by Jay; an animal that went from CAT4 to CAT2 in the very next year. That just isn't done. I remember while drifting off to sleep, my bikes would be the last thing I saw and the first thing the minute I woke up. The dream was to race professionally.
Soon enough, there was a wife, kids, house, and a career while cycling became a fuzzy, mental picture that I rarely took out of my minds dusty archive. The problem was I never got over the desire to constantly challenge myself; test myself; see if I was better than I thought I was. I tried, like most, in my career, but did not care enough about money. I tried on my materialistic things, but found I just did not give a shit with keeping up with the Jones. Nope. Who I was, was who I was and there was no denying; I loved friendly, tagable, wholesome competition. I don't remember ever being angry about getting my butt handed to me by other riders. I just remember grinning from ear to ear thinking "ah, a new benchmark".
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