I’m sitting in a camp chair at the Boone County Fairgrounds, just outside Columbia, Missouri. The noise of cars sound in the distance, a mechanical drone next to the whir of crickets tucked among the high grass. It’s the kind of weather where you think, maybe I should put on a sweatshirt as the breeze flows over your skin. I’ve put one on. Also, among these noises are the sounds of people laughing and talking as they sit outside their tents, feet propped on a cooler, beer in hand. They’re happy sounds, content sounds, the ride is tomorrow so for now it’s all energy. After so many months in the city, it feels good to be out.
I’m not nervous about the ride anymore. There were some days when I wondered how it’d all play out. Now though, I’m here. There doesn’t need to be anything else. I look forward, somewhat guiltily, to hitting that point where I have no real thoughts. No worries for those I love, nor doubts about the future, only a physical demand to pedal, to go on. Pedal. That’s all there will be tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. Just riding, feeling the wind blow across my arms and face. The sun absorbing into my skin. The burn of muscles as they contract, push, pull, and repeat. Life will catch up later. This is just a brief respite. Soon enough, I’ll be back at a computer like the rest of you, inside, working or just wondering why your not out here, feeling the rush of a downhill ride and the patience for the next ascent.
— Mobile Post