Friends

Working on the wedding invitation list has taken me back thru
time. One thing I know is I am the worlds worst at keeping in
touch with old, current, and new friends. I get sucked into
this time absorbing life of hi-tech and become an island of one.
Not exciting, but easily managed and peaceful.

There are the solid and not to be broken childhood friends that
you can call anytime, any day and be brought back in time. The
shared time was unbounded and careless. A connection that
withstands time.

There are the school friends where you suffered the ruthless
deadlines and exams to differentiate yourself from the
unmotivated and un-driven. We witnessed each other at
our most stressed and broken and friendship kindled to help
or be helped.

There are the work friends that drift by in the halls with short
greetings followed by weekend and weather chatter. You get
to know so much about their drive and talents, but very little
about them in general. Such a waist...

Then there are the sport friends. The people we bump into each
race weekend, and road trips. These are the dearest because
they share an addiction to be different. They push life hard and
smile the better for it. They make the insane look trepid, the
sane look reserved. They are the warriors of life.

Cross-eyed for Cross

Images of glory flickered in the distance. The vehicle was somewhat familiar, but the venue is untamed and unforgiving. The body and mind are sharp and focused, but it will take time. Thoughts of racing for the top placings are replaced with fear of survival.

We line-up for the M35 A's and as usual a late porto pitstop had me at mid pack. Then the silliness starts. 10 rider callups which shuffles me to the back row. We are off... My fitness is untapped for the first 2 laps as we rounds the sand corners, crest the dirt piles, and role on the hard stuff. The body is finally start to rev, but the mind is working even harder to keep upright. The skill is not bad, but nothing close to what is needed to return to glory.
.
Time to race and learn...

As the race progresses, I switch back to my days of video-mania where I repeated the same race course over and over trying for a better time. Each lap I would do the math, compare it to my best, and then set out again trying to better. I was successful in making each of the last 4 laps better than the last, with the final being golden. Good enough for 16th against some seasoned dirt veterans.

Onward to the elite A's where the pre-race idling caused me some nausea that I could have done without. The contenders looked even more amped than the M35ers, so I decided to refrain from the fight until post nausea. Off the line I was last. NO, not close to last, or a close last, but an absolutely, positively LAST!. There was a pack of racing riders, a gap of dead air, and then moi. I suffered and suffered for a few laps, and then I finally started to come around. I was again racing against the lap clock. I posted a few good laps trying different lines, different dismount locations, run more, run less, etc. etc. By the last 4 laps I was building confidence that I was not an unwelcomed rider. The course, was starting to show me the way, and I listened. I pushed the last few laps hard and held off getting lapped. The result was 24th, about mid-pack. With more improvements and a few more races, I might be able to start the fight from the gun.