Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Forgive me. I never should have left you. I'm so sorry. Please take me back.
You were nothing short of an amazing bike. I can see that now. The day before I left for Latin America was a crazy rush and as much as I dreamed of taking you with me, I worried about what might happen to you, what might happen to us, and what I would be missing out on if we spent the better part of these four months together.
But in the meantime I have come to realize what I should have known all along: That you keep me balanced. That you keep me honest. That you bring out the best parts of me. Since we've been apart I've been eating a little too much, drinking a lot too much, and getting irritated with people and things I can't even control. There are empty hours that seem to have no reprieve. Long, open roads begging for attention.
Take me back.
I know I'm not the man I was when I left.
I'm bigger. Maybe 18 pounds bigger. You can fix me.
I'm meaner. A lot meaner. You can calm me.
I'm slower. A couple dozen kilowatts slower. You can train me.
I'm weirder. A handful of countries weirder. You'll still like me.
Sure I've looked at some other bikes on the road but come on, I am only human. I was just looking. I swear I haven't taken any of them out for a spin. And the ones in the magazines, I know they are just for show. They haven't been through what we've been through. Up the side of Lookout Mountain. Across the Golden Gate Bridge. Out the back of the group at regional championships after a particularly brutal climb.Yes, I remember.
I'll make it all up to you I swear. I'm jogging now because I know we've got a long way to go before we line up at the end of February. I'm doing yoga so we can drop that handlebar flush against the headset to really crank out some power. I'm not drinking beer anymore because it's time to get serious (and besides, whiskey in Panama is far cheaper than in Costa Rica anyhow).
There are three and a half long weeks left. I'm counting down to you. When I return the days may be short, the mercury may be dropping and the white lines may be iced over, but I'll be out there on the road. I'll be ready. I can only hope you will be too.
Forever Yours (at least until that new 2011 is all built, fitted and ready to roll),