These are the days of wonder, and love and transformation, and movement, days of oh so tired, sore and dehydrated, but oh so happy. We’ve worked, sweat, ridden in the hottest sun, and stood under the misty tent commiserating with our fellow riders. It was hard, fun, and glorious. One of us raced, really RACED, and one of us just pedalled. Nobody won or lost – we got to play bikes today.
Lots of rolling hills, horses, cows, goats and donkeys, beautiful horse farms lined with black fence line. This is a very singular group of people. The competative cyclist is a rare individual. Focused, willing to sacrifice, to push and work in the heat and the cold and the wind and the rain, to push through the fatigue, the dehydration, the heat and utter exhaustion, to finish well, to help a teammate end off the front . . . this is the stuff they live for. To push themselves to the outer limits of endurance and effort, to suffer, to work together with fellow riders until the last minute, to go all out balls to the walls until that final sprint.