Sun. Dance.

There is a unique pain to a short race. Muscles scream, eyes blur, lungs burn. It is over as soon as it starts, and yet it feels as if will never end. And then there is the speed. Ducking and leaning through corners, standing and hammering out of the saddle. Never stopping even for a moment to look around. If you did you’d end up wrapped around a tree.

As much as I crave endurance rides and long for that epic battle against sanity, a short race can be a cleansing act.  It blows all the junk out of your system, clears the mind and burns off the stresses of the day. Today’s 1 hour scorcher at Sundance was as therapeutic as it was painful. It felt incredible to be pushing hard, once again at one of the great places I have ever known. Sundance is small, but it is home for me on many levels. The singletrack was pristine, the weather finally, finally resembled something reminiscent of June and the competition was fast and furious.