Tears on a top tube

It is upon us. The weekend that my friend Ross and I have been waiting for. It is the 2011 Devils Slide Mountain bike Race weekend. This is one thing we look forward to every year. It is all about spring time temps, camping out for the first time, and comforts of good friendships. And it is finally here.

Oh, and there’s my new blue bike, ready to tear up the trails, backed by an awesome crew of sponsors and teammates. Life’s been hitting the refresh button lately, what with a new apartment and a change of scenery in town. So far, so good. But then, why did my bike’s top tube look like it had been caught in a rainstorm of my tears this morning when I got to work? Sometimes I think my emotional brain is more like a secret agent, leaving me out of the loop until the last possible second. It’s only then I realize how deeply I care about the folks in my life.

But wait, let’s hit the rewind button…

Riding through the fresh snow, I was unfazed. Tomorrow, I’d be off to muddier, but snow-free, pastures. The snow was just a minor character in today’s story, and besides, it added a bit of sparkle to the morning. With my iPod shuffle cranking tunes and the scenery looking like a Bob Ross painting, life was good. Then, the next track came on, a song that wasn’t exactly a tearjerker but had become special to me because it reminded me of a friend who thought of me when she heard it. Every time it plays, I can’t help but laugh about the Big Dipper reference – a nod to a friend who’s been a constant in my blogging universe.

That memory took me back to our chat on Borah Peak, geeking out over state flags and admiring Alaska’s for its stellar design. Fast forward a week, and there we were, spotting the Big Dipper over Mount Sentinel. That sight inspired some of my best, most introspective blog posts.

Before I knew it, the song was over, replaced by a Modest Mouse track about life’s resilience (yep, “Float On”). The commute flew by in a blur of nostalgia, and I might have navigated a couple of crossings on autopilot, tears obscuring my vision. Lost in memories, I hardly noticed the real world around me. Yeah, I was a mess by the time I reached work.

Tonight, I’ll be saying farewell to a dear friend, something I’ve done before but never with such heaviness. Maybe one day, my brain will sync up its emotional and rational parts. Until then, I should probably avoid cycling on autopilot, eh? As Modest Mouse says, we’ll all float on, alright.

But here’s to the weekend and the race season kicking off. With a new bike and a fresh start, I’m ready to channel everything into speed. There’s a lot I’m working through, but I know I’ll come out faster for it.