Bicycle Racing. Again.
I know! I thought I was done racing my mountain bike three years ago. 63 years old and getting my ass handed to me by a 10 year old at Churney Gurney* was as clear a sign as I'd ever likely see from God that whatever I was doing, I should probably stop. And I did stop. I focused on improving my bike handling and riding more for fun. "Riding with Gratitude" is what they call it. Not a bad term. I did more "flow" trails, spending most of my weekends lurking around Wheelerville's beautiful trail system up in the Adirondacks. Short rides that were fun, fast, with pleasant people to talk to. All good things. But history is littered with the battered corpses of people who simply couldn't accept that it was time to hang it up and I'm no wiser than those departed souls, so last August found me off the couch and lined up with 4 other 60+ racers at the Churney Gurney again. I want to stress that those of us who don't know when to retire will invariably ...
