Mas

Slowly I'm willing myself out and into the field of play. Ambition is creeping in. Brevets? Gravel grinders? Tour?

I find myself enjoying putting in an effort, not an all-out assault, but to feel the breath heave and the burn creep.

Today I was dressed to commute and life got in the way. I took the teenager to school so I could, in turn, provide him a ride home after an event. In a previous stage, I would have come in and crashed on the coach for a while before life commenced there of. Presently motivated, I tarried not and threw on togs for a darkening, drizzly ride. My how I love my dyno! The dark crept in, draping me. Big red flashie warding off imminent impact, front white haze. A surge there. A coast here. Vainqueur.