Cyclocross has officially arrived.
Unofficially, it never left. It occupied certain recesses of my brain all throughout the wet and rainy spring and into the hot, dry days of summer. And now, here it is. And just in time. The air is cool. The days are noticeably shorter, and the leaves, even in the valley, are starting to color. Summer is dead. Long live summer.
I tend to look past the here and now, and into the hazy future. In the heat of July, I crave the pleasant days of October. And in December, I long for May. My proclivity for such fruitless pining often causes a restless agitation, an impatient dissatisfaction for the present. But constantly looking forward comes at the expense of looking around. And so, I’m going to try to simply look around more often. To enjoy today.
Which won’t exactly be difficult. After all, cyclocross has officially arrived.