1. I glanced at my Garmin 305 and it rather succinctly indicated that I was flying down the northern decent after Groundhog Mountain at 39 miles mph.
You see on this perfect mountain morning my movement came from within. I was the force of movement. I determined how far or how fast I was to go. Nothing came without my effort. I could never feel the high of a 38 mph decent if I hadn’t worked really hard pedaling my ass off up the incline to get to the top.
No secrets here. Pure and simple effort—from within—was needed to shake off all gravitational force to get me over the crest. The reward of moving to the center of the road for the headlong decent into the place where fear is conquered and no crash happens to screw up a glorious moment.
I think not on the day that it all might end. I simply choose not to stray too far without running shoes near or my 14 pound red Tommaso beast at ready for the next ride.