The forest trail begrudgingly gives way to our upward progress, pedal stroke by stroke, noses dripping sweat and forearms straining. Single speeds and single tracks, especially at altitude, take their pound of flesh for the right of passage so we stepped onto the butcher's block and let the cleaver fall where it may.
What fell away in hunks was weakness leaving the body in the form of pain.
The pain produces a reward that is a great buffering agent. The top, the view, the cruise. The flow.
One good friend. One good gear. One good ride.
An excellent night indeed.
"Please don't let me die."
6 years ago