And so the quest continues.
In fact, this episodic endeavor has become somewhat of an obsession. The chasing of ends I am unable to actually obtain, and yet close enough to make a compelling run at them anyway. And little by little the hobbles are breaking loose, the rust crumbling, and the engine burning cleaner and cleaner. The pain is addictive and ecstatic. I find myself craving it, seeking it out, and relishing every minute of conflagrational torment.
In other words, I’m rather enjoying the cross-country racing this year.
I was able to make incremental, but (in my mind) significant improvements in Monday’s race at Corner Canyon. While the end result was similar to last week, the process was entirely different. I was at least able to participate in the cat and mouse of the race, albeit not with the leaders, but with the white tags surrounding me-bringing up the back of the pack. However, that was a much improved predicament than the dilemma of Soldier Hollow, which witnessed the vanishing of my fellow White Tags into the distance, never to be seen again. And with the cat and mousing of Monday came new lessons in playing to my strengths, while trying to minimize the pitfalls of my weaknesses. In this particular case, a 1 mile stretch of just ever-so-slightly downhill dirt road kept me relevant. For once, being 178lbs actually was advantageous in a mountain bike race.
Already I am anxious for the weekend madness at Sundance. Another tight, twisty race full of switchbacks and singletrack. Already I am craving that competitive stupor, delusional mindset and to once again, engage in the chase.
And what exactly is it that I am chasing?
I can’t precisely say. But I will know it when I see it.
Photo from Brad.