The Old Man and the Bike

It was cold today.  I had earlier visited the Little 500 track with the temps hovering in the high 20s and a smattering of young men going through the paces, some on long sets, others on exchanges and others doing fast single laps.  A few of them would make it out to the inaugural 2013 Wednesday Worlds tonight on Knightridge and 446.

The Way We Were

I am sometimes accustomed to bouts of nostalgia when atop the bicycle, even in the basement on the rollers as I was this snowy evening, unable or unwilling to stop my mind from drifting back to many youthful moments of joy and abandon.  The instant that my foot is firmly on a pedal, and the taught chain engages perfectly with a sprocket, muscles tense, circles making circles and the spokes set to hum, I am a boy again, caught in the grip of the sport in a way that has woven me into the fabric of not just cycling but its history and, if I am fortunate- if we all are fortunate- its future.