Back in the Saddle

September bore witness to a conspicuous absence of saddle time. Sure, there is the obligatory morning trudge to the office, and evening bout of frogger, but besides that I just didn’t get out much. There are reasons, sure. Never an absence of reasons, but those aside, I’ve been feeling the loss. So, last week I squared my shoulders, strapped a light to my helmet and went into the mountain, deep into the mountain. It is a strange feeling to be in the black so far away from the city. As I climbed the mountain, all distinguishing features of Bellingham faded away and all I could see were the thousands of tiny lights. The infernal freeway which snakes through town seemed eerily alive as I watched the ceaseless procession of automobiles on their ways to wherever it is they go; like tiny ants they filed along, keeping in order; so linear and so usual.

Upon reaching my destination I took at seat on the wet ground and began strapping on my leg armor; however I couldn’t help but periodically look up and cast my light in a circle as if to check and make sure… sure of what, I don’t really know, perhaps to temper the ancient instinct lodged deep within my prefrontal lobes. The trip down the mountain through the interlocking trails was exhilarating in every sense of the word; that feeling is just not something one can find in modern society, you can’t buy it, you can’t purchase it with any amount of money and you can’t find it. Most people will never know it because the masses rarely push their comfort zones, even a small bit. I am always annoyed and dismayed when upon arriving at work on a rainy day the coworkers cannot believe I biked, as if the rain were acid, or like the witch in “The Wizard of Oz” I would melt. The concept of exhilaration is nearly forgotten these days.

Later I will post pictures of the front of my Ironhorse 7point, the new fork attached through my head tube has elevated the ride to a new level. Viva la Rock Shox, Viva la Totem!