The Apalachicola National Forest after a good soaking is as good as North Florida riding gets.  The soft crunching of wet sand under tires is satisfying like popping bubble wrap, or picking at a scab.  You just can’t leave it alone.

That is me in the front, wearing the yellow jersey, and behind me is my old friend Taco.  We quit calling him that in the mid-nineties, but I am bringing it back today.  He grew up in a small town in Wisconsin, which is a state somewhere in the U.S.A.

  Being of Sicilian heritage, his olive skin set him apart in the mostly Germanic and Scandinavian community.  Children, being of limited experience, assumed he must be Mexican, and named him accordingly. 

That’s how I remember it anyway.

We hit the late afternoon woods under ominous navy blue clouds, but the rains had already come.  The dew on fragile ferns whished off on my ankles and salamanders salamanded as fast as they could to avoid being tracked over.  Carve and pedal, carve and pedal, the Twilight trail just gives up the love on a late summer roll.

Wrung free of the day we loaded muddy bikes into the van, both a little amazed at how great the ride was, and what a good long ride it has been.

Peace Taco!

Juancho

I passed a seeker on a road to nowhere today. It is the road to Panama City actually, which is somewhere for some. Me in a rental car, a comfortable Mazda 6, and a hotel room at the end of the drive. Another notch in my traveling stick. I passed him with a wide, slow berth, but too fast to read the sign. It didn’t matter. I already knew the cash in my wallet was his, and my big bag of tamari almonds. Work horses and wild horses still nicker and neigh together given the chance.

It took me a couple of miles to get the decision all the way to my right foot, so I turned around and cruised easy until I saw him in the bike lane up ahead. I pulled well off the road and got out to hale him.

“What’s up Hardcore!” I said as he pulled to the shoulder. “Hammer down!” He replied. I could have hugged him for that.

His dog jumped out of her covered wagon to sniff me.

I gave him a twenty and the bag of almonds and his eyes registered the cash, but it was the almonds he raised like a bag of gold. When you are still five miles from supper on a country road a $20 won’t get you too far. He said he got divorced 11 months ago and he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he just got on his bike. That was in Texas, and he was in the Florida Panhandle by way of Virginia Beach. “I’ve been doing this a minute” he said, when I asked if he wanted my half-bottle of water. “Got 5 jugs in the trailer.”

I introduced myself, encouraged him to stop by here and say hi if he ever got the chance. He repeated “big ring circus” twice and said, “I can sure remember that!” We shook hands solid and good, then parted ways. A truck stop dinner 30 minutes away for him, and who knows where he would lay his head. He introduced himself as Commodore. I went with Juancho.

I had the thought that there is only one story to tell about riding bikes that is worth telling. That’s the story of how we ride to lose ourselves, then find ourselves again. For an afternoon or a year, most of us are riding desperately from one thing in hope of finding another thing. It’s all one story. All one ride. That’s my story at least.

I have fallen apart and ridden myself back together again more times than I can count. The last time it happened this is what was waiting for me when I let myself put my kickstand down.

Happiness.

Juancho

You can try to deny it, but the facts are the facts. You are off of your game. I am speaking to myself here. I have had a cold for so long now it is officially my buddy. I enjoyed a long, lingering decline, banking off of the bottom of the wave and cruising back up for months, but the gains of fall and winter are now squandered. There comes a point when you can’t just ride yourself back to the top of your game. Some off-season conditioning is required. Here is what some random internet source says about the “off-season.” I agree with most of it, but not #3 (totally ludicrous) and I am not an athlete, I am a bike rider, and a mountain biker specifically. Let’s keep that clear.

“The off-season is characterized by providing rest, alternative activities and mental refreshment.

Often, this part of the year is easily seen as a time to have fun and not do your sport… the off season.

Frankly, what athletes do on their time off at the end of the year is never really associated with their performance in the next season. But, it should be as the transition phase has some key ingredients that get the body and mind refreshed:

1. Low training volume – reduced load on the body helps remove any niggling injuries and gives the athlete time to reflect on their underlying motivations to compete. Plan for a month-long transition, before commencing pre-season training.

2. Some exercise – having done so much training for the rest of the year it becomes part of the athlete’s lifestyle to be active, so I’d include some moderate exercise which is not what you’d normally do. Depending on the sport, examples could be rock climbing, mountain biking, hiking, swimming, pool running or surfing. As fitness is easier to maintain than develop, a little exercise during the break may be enough to maintain most of the fitness built over the last year and make for an easier start to the new season. Aim for 3-4 sessions a week of 30-60 min at an effort level of 5 to 7 out of 10.

3. Virtually no participation in the main sport – this is a chance for overstressed joints and muscles to rebuild and the mind to have break from thinking about technique, strategy and constant training. For the athlete that has had to manage an injury during the season, the transition phase is a great time to address muscle imbalances and weaknesses. This pre habilitation (as distinct from rehabilitation) can strengthen the muscles and joints for better training during the season.”

So let’s go swimming, paddling, maybe play some ping pong. I will sort out this new bike dilemma, rejuvenate, and re-invent my cycling avatar for 2013. I’m waving a white flag for the summer, or maybe I just need a nap.

Juancho

Living in a Day-Quil haze today after spreading my tiny wings and flying away last night with the Glitter Chariot. To be honest I didn’t do much. I bought some orange paint for Chuck’s thighs. I fed the Key Grip’s dog. I bought three cases of beer. Still, it was exhausting. Melissa spent 14 hours on set. We slept like statues. Here is an interesting statistic I just made up:

5% of the population does not produce art due to a lack of interest or talent.

The other 95% do not product art because it is too much hard work. This includes writing, painting, quilting, music, and macrame.

Still, I am building up chi, or prana, or chutzpa if you prefer, to write something of merit- if only a few words. You can’t force it, you can only sit on your word eggs and wait.

Meanwhile, this bicycle seeking adventure continues. In my heart I have narrowed it down the this humble Santa Cruz Aluminum Highball, which is a fine ride for the money.

The problem is that rumors and whispers of other options keep drifting to my attention. The latest is an unlikely lead on an Ellsworth Evolve, which if you don’t know what that is, then you must not be here for the bikes.

If anyone out there is slower to make a decision and commit to a purchase than I am, let me know. I feel pretty alone out here in wishy washy land. I like to finesse my way into a purchase like easing into a scalding hot bath.

Juancho