Thursday, February 24, 2011


For the long days at work that should have been lived outdoors on a bike, I handle a friendship for growing up in those frustrations that breath life into a now altered existence. For who can forever groan in pains of labor? There's a train traveling through my house, destroying all I thought that I held dear. Carbon frames, King bottom brackets, and a kit that screams "I am;" it all got laid to waste in this dream that found the shores of a lonely tide rolling in screaming streaks of moonlit wonder. I could see the reflection of my youth standing right in front of me and it reminded me of me. "There will be an answer, let it be." So I sat back and stared into the clouds designed to eerily paint the only light in the sky. Whispering now, it came through with a religion that left nothing to measure. There was no comparison to be made, just a simple tug at my voice. Who am I apart from the rest of the world's chalk line snapped high on a slippery overhang? Impossible to be, then my voice became. I heard it roll through the night like a hungry wolf howling for something beyond itself. The mood seemed to wrap itself around the orchestra passionately playing for the right to recreate a perfectly timed melody. Out of my shoes and onto the sand running so that time could not find me, the last ounce of strength was spent tearing out all that seemed to resist the freedom of embracing a measureless pride.

This, my friends, is how it feels to race for a cause. Come ride a bike with me and I guarantee you'll discover your passions. Together with good people, a team is being formed that will turn bikes into a curiosity that makes a wake worth noticing. You should be on this team.