Dee Enn Eff

Second DNF in four years, and oh do I shudder as the acronym taps onto the screen. Not much to say about it. I felt fine. Actually, I felt great. The weather was impeccable, with cool azure and white October sun, and the breeze in between their hands held tight. So I got a little excited, what with friends like family surrounding me in my home away from home. And I caught a little too much wind down a flirtatious fireroad, didn't scrub enough pre-turn speed, but it felt so good. So it happens, though not very often. Which is fine by me.

It happened rather quickly, yet I knew when and why and how, as if the motion had been slowed to a Loris' pace. Calculated, deliberate, and beautifully succinct.

Down for the count, numbers one through four and a half perhaps, then the bellow of a scream releasing hot pain, and a mount back on the bike and back in the game. Well, almost back in the game, more so wanting to be back in. But also wanting to have a cross season and crinkly fall rides that smell like only this time of year can smell. Bittersweet, I know; but I savored the sweet, all the folks who love it in their own way, all the family I have found, and just cheered them on from the other side.

Sorry, Ringwood, my love, I'll see you in a few days, when the leaves are changing more than they are now. Maybe then it will be just you and me, like we used to hang. Not a soul in sight. Just ours. Thanks for being the best kind of friend there is, the one that constantly challenges and teaches, that makes certain I live for myself and never accept anything less, the kind that shows no mercy in that tough love sort of way. Thanks, Ringwood. I'll be seeing you around.