Follow the white line. What's so hard about that? Simply put, that is our strategy, oh, and never, never stop pedaling. There is no coasting in RAAM.Unless you need to adjust. And you WILL need to adjust. There is rearranging in RAAM. RAAM gives moleskin a new place to rest. And the chicken dance takes on a whole new meaning.
But RAAM also makes you stupid. The white line is a great guide, but it moves. Thoughts dance, curbs jump, addition becomes physics. Think often. Think early. Take notes. Follow the white line. Make a schedule. Plan the alternatives. Rinse, cycle, repeat.
Sand Box Derby is not a place to be lost. It's just you and the white line for miles and miles and miles. Beneath the glow of the milky way, at the base of looming dunes, taillights offer no uniquity. Your cyclist looks exactly like the 50 other cyclists along the same stretch of bland, sandy road, if you even see them.
Our ingenious multicolored accessories, a complete bust. Dwarfed amid the immensity of the night. Ahha. The race was young. We were still smart. We could think beyond the white line. Our radios and odometers replaced the glow necklaces with even more accuracy and we were found.
But there will be the day when we lose calm, clear headed Denise. I thought it impossible. C'est possible. The sun is shining; the clock screaming, Good Morning. We walk around in a haze.
Denise hesitates and stares. We stare back. "Are we in nighttime riding," she asks. I'm not sure I understand the question. Janna steps up, "It's 930 Sweetie." "So, will there be nighttime riding this leg?" she asks again, clutching her light. No, no, I think the high desert sun will work just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment