So, the past two days I ventured out to some local soccer fields in order to attempt a few hours of mounting, dismounting (that's what she said), and running over my newly fashioned PVC cyclocross barriers. Both days were a splendid combination of warm sun, rustling breeze, and blue sky. I ran around for about an hour each day, and spent the rest of the time reading and working diligently on my fading spandex tan. It was so simple; no talking, only the inner monologue of my mind mixing mantras and visualizations in order to achieve desired results.
Throughout today's session there was little boy, no older than 7, who must have circled the field on his two-wheeler at least twenty-three times in the last half hour I was there. We exchanged word-less smiles as he whizzed along the paved path. With his blithe disposition, it made me chuckle to see him stop abruptly (ah, yes, foot breaks always bring back fond memories) and chase a squirrel up a tree with the commands of his tiny voice.
While rolling around on my road bike in the open fields, I recalled the last time I had been there: high school soccer practice. We played non-stop. Practice was everyday, even indoor in the winter, and I never ceased loving it. There was traveling and rec, varsity and extra training sessions with Bobby and David (phenomenal foreign soccer players, as well as fine individuals). The family we built around soccer was an invaluable blessing, one which I still feel the residual from today. Soccer, and the people it included, helped shape me into who I am, and that is something I will forever be grateful for. It is partly the reason I am once again rolling around in the same fields with autumn approaching (this was always the time of year that heavier practices started back up, a transition from summer camps and training into the season's games, and an overall peak time of year for fitness). I still have the same obsession, the same love and appreciation, except now I have a bike, and there is an entirely new world to explore and push the limits of. Although I miss those days when it felt as though I coud run forever under the September night's lights, when fall leaves crunched under cleats with every corner kick; although I miss the laughter and comraderie of the girls, and the intense focus of defending, stealing, and dribble-pass-dribble-shoot of each play--I know I have another family now, not a replacement so much, but rather one that runs on a parallel. I have Sula and a loving family of riders, all of which I am more than grateful for. I believe my years of soccer opened me up to numerous other worlds--inside and outside of myself--with mountain biking being one of the most eminent. Perhaps the family is not so much new as it is an extension of the former.
Leaving thin tire tracks through the grass today, I could almost hear a ref's faint whistle; I smiled inside, swinging my leg back over the seat, and knew this was exactly where I wanted to be.
Below is some video analysis footage, which should be interesting only to me. Nevertheless, enjoy.
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