Sometimes it's easy to amaze myself.
I came from humble beginnings. Much of my early years was devoted to all things two-wheeled, but with an engine mounted in-between.
A 25-year love affair with motorcycles.
She was one of the most sultry mistresses I ever encountered. Fast, unforgiving and demanding. No matter how hard you rode her, she wanted more.
And if you found her limit...you just traded up to another mistress, this one with a higher range of rpm's and increased torque.
Just roll the throttle on...and hope the day ended well.
Here's a photo of master competitor enjoying the 1978 Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. I rode out with several other characters from central Wisconsin. At that time I was riding a Kawasaki KZ900...one of the baddest in-line 4-cylinder bikes on the road in that era.
But it's all just a fuzzy haze now. The attraction is gone and has been replaced by a more pure, unadulterated love affair with the human engine. The power I put to the ground now comes through my Brooks trainers or the crank of my Felt road bike. The silence is sometimes deafening; life rolls by at a slower and more digestible pace.
I'm packing up and heading to the Guana 50K tomorrow. I am tired and sore and my knee hurts but let's race. I have miles in the bank and feel good about my place in the world. Economic conditions and the job market loom as black clouds in the sky, but tomorrow all of that will fade away as we head into the woods.
I have lived to race another day. I have found the long and narrow path that God intended.