Nicking up Barbie’s little dream truck (Oh poor BLDT!) was just the wake up call I needed to take a look at the schedule and figure out how to act more deliberately, less reactively.
It was a glancing blow and nobody was hurt, but it could have been ugly. The other driver was speeding, I was creeping out to look. My fault though, pure and simple. Too much on my mind, out of synch with my surroundings (I never drive at rush hour, why would I?) and I got checked. Scary.
So- take stock of your inner chaos, and if necessary, clean house.
Yesterday morning we put off riding until it was good and hot. A general rule of thumb is if you don’t want to ride, don’t answer the phone. Over here on 10th Ave we all answered the phone, but I don’t think any of of us were really prepared for the molten beatdown we received.
98 degrees in September. Pretty typical really. This summer I have learned the heat-related symptoms all too well, and surprisingly they are very similar to hypothermia.
Shortness of breath, mild hyperventilating.
Tendency to go mute.
Bad taste in mouth (yes I brush my damn teeth).
Immediate and constant lactic burn.
We cruised through the Florida State Championship race scene at Tom Brown Park www.goneriding.com . Those poor bastards. The ego juice was flowing so hard out there. Nobody speaks civil, nobody waves.
That’s a big strike against future racing considerations.
This is the South. We wave down here.