The Quest for Singletrack
I tend to swim against the current, always have and likely always will. Sure, I get tired fighting the natural order, the cosmos, gravity, what have you. But I imagine getting jostled along with the herd, trusting the front of the group to guide you safely to wherever it is they might be taking you, can be just as tiring as my method. I suppose. Well, for the first time in my life I have given in to the tide. I am the flotsam and jetsam of the world in which I reside. Simply put, cyclocross racing is on hold this season – for now at least – as my life has become cumbersome in a good, family kind of way.
In a nutshell: wife’s back in nursing school, I am on my 6th of 10 months coaching travel select softball, I am Mr. Mom-ing my son to water polo practice and all that leaves me generally lacking time. I do get to ride. Oh, there is always a little time to ride; I mean I am a bike rider. It is just that my focus has gone from 60 minutes of suffer to 60 minutes of shred. Instead of pyramid intervals and Tabatas I have been on a quest for singletrack. The road bike is gathering dust in the cave. The ‘cross bike gets love once a week. The mountain bike, well, she and I are super tight right now, and we get out 3 or 4 days a week with the aim of riding as much of the narrow as possible, making use of any tiny window of time available. At least I get to ride. As we all know any ride is better than no ride at all.