Humble Musings: II.

These days it seems to be just photos. Perhaps we can point an accusatory finger at the disappearance of time for any lack of words around here, but the blame game gets us nowhere in life, and I fancy photos just the same. Fingers aside, a picture can be worth a thousand words, no? Let's make it a thousand and seven, for old time's sake, and equate the past two entries to a loosely woven novella, severed mid-tale by a week long hiatus--how else would I get you to stick around? I want you on the edge of that seat.

Words to follow at some unforeseen point in the starry future.

Sitting on plastic bags in cold rivers works wonders for the legs, and the spirit.

Super excited to race!

I loved this short, steep climb. Just power up it real fast and then be on your merry little way. Oh, and if you get a chance, rip some other girl's legs off in the process.

From one generation to the next, nothing tells a story like experience.

Woot. Woot. Where's Janey Girl?

Campmor photo shoot. Thanks, Patty.

In white hot pursuit. We stayed together the entirety of this glorious run, with York, finishing seconds ahead. What a blast!

A-W-K-W-A-R-D.

Woot, woot to Willy.

And E. Either she is lost in the trance of some music in a shady disco joint somewhere, or she just pulled in for a win.

After xc and sd we really just needed to race that pig somewhere and call it a day.

So, we signed Adam Craig's birthday card. I think I left something silly on there, like my phone number, who knows these days. Anything is possible.

Al reuniting with a bud, Ethan, from her training camp in Switzerland.

Easy E revving the Super D at Windham. Photo courtesy of Cyclingnews.

Off to race the SICK BIRD Super D course at Windham.

No, Ellen did not biff. We had to start the race by laying down, hopping up, and then executing a somersault at some point before reaching our bikes. Nice tuck-n-roll, E.