Hour 3 of a little snowfall.
Finally…February is almost gone. Gone is the chocolate (please don’t tempt me!) and soon beginning the training races, stripping off the tights, on with the knickers, and at last, the thrill of racing with the cool air kissing your skin. I can’t complain about February’s romance; the staycation, sushi, and hours upon hours of riding together, Aaron and I, in the fridgid air. Aaron actually bought me a pretty necklace for Valentine’s day…I guess that’s a true measure of how brutally cold riding can be utterly romantic! Who would have known?!
Aaron polishing my bike.
I reminisce as wind pummels the windows and snow falls heavy to the street below. The other day, our favorite bike picture blew off the shelf and I had to run to close the window in the bedroom. Today it is snowing. The last few weekends, I pushed the big ring for hours on end. My legs ached, my stomach tightened out of hunger. Yet it felt so good to suffer in the dense air. Every morning I awake to birds chirping like mad. “It feels like spring,” I say to Aaron. “the beginning of a new season.” The scent of fresh dew and morning birds reminds me of high school track and of the spring I spent in southern France, racing with the National team. Do I ever long to return to France and finish what I started. The Olympics have begun. It was Bonnie Blair back in 1994 or ’95 who got me started. I sat watching the TV, wide eyed and only 8 years old… “I want to be like her,” I announced to my parents, and that’s where the passion started…it was all about doing the unthinkable, and being a champion. It’s that young 8-year old girl that’s still whispering in my head, “Finish what you start,” she says, “Don’t give up your dream.”