I took to the woods like a shot last night- running against the stream of commerce and progress overtaking this town as a new school year lurches from chaos to routine. Nothing new going on around here for me, not yet. This was just another Monday afternoon at Munson, or so I want to remember it as such.
The trail was soft. Pine needles sloughed off in great bunches and each sandy corner was a free-floating tack through light chop. Poor conditions though? I wouldn’t call it that. The woods were too perfect- too quiet- too benign and predictably friendly. Knowing that the fall insanity chases for me too, and in fact could overtake me today, this afternoon, or next Monday- I leaned into the pedals with all I had. Fast loop or slow loop I couldn’t say, but it was an everything I had loop.
If you can’t say if it was fast or slow, that says to me that you did it right.
Thanks. For the record, let’s say it was fast?
It was screaming.
The beauty of the solo. That Munson is casting a spell on me as of late. It’s like jazz, its wierd until you hear it. Then is amazing.