Dead Ferns, Annoying Great Uncles & Lava Lizards

It's that time of year. The forest is retreating and taking the green with it. Well, maybe not that bad yet, but it's starting.

The ferns are going from bright green and hogging the trail to pale orange-yellow husks of their former selves. The leaves- while mostly still green- are starting to turn in spots and starting their annual migration to the trail surface. They are not welcome, but like an annoying great aunt that comes to visit on holidays you must put on your best face and welcome them. Because like your aunt could have brought your fucking annoying great uncle that calls you "fat boy," pokes your love handles and leaves shit skids in your toilet, the leaves could be snow on the ground.

Some folks are racing cross, it's cold somewhere, pissing down rain somewhere else, but for now it's still short sleeve jersey and shorts weather here, and I continue to ride singletrack when I can and enjoy every second of it. Just like when that smart ass knuckle dragging uncle of yours could have died face down in his Thanksgiving mashed potatoes (wait, would that have been bad?) any time after his 70th birthday; after Halloween (God I hope not before!) it could get nipple erecting cold and ass deep in snow here. Best to just keep on keepin' on.

It rained a bit last night so the ground was damp, and I drove into a thick fog at 11 a.m. as I headed north to ride. It was warm enough to go without arm warmers, but cold enough to barely even think of tapping into your water bottles in the first 5 miles. The trails that were bone dry, with occasional traction loosing sandy spots were tacky and hooking up like a t-paper on a porcupine's ass. Even with last night's rain the trails were in perfect, if not better, condition. Win.

The woods were so still it was amazing. I couldn't here anything. Just the sound of my tires over moist trails. I made every attempt to ride quietly as possible, to keep pressure on the pedals so as to keep from coasting and keep the hub hushed, to breath silently and efficiently, and just take in everything. To absorb all that the woods had to offer. It was brilliant.

“I want you to breathe through your eyelids,
like the Lava Lizards of the Galapagos Islands.”
- Annie Savoy, Bull Durham

Later.

The last bit was for Wifey.