Come to think of it...

I went to the AMBC Fall Fest and took like zero pictures.  Trust me, I was really there.  I can't believe it's been going on for seventeen years, and this was my first time soaking it in.  It was excite to experience the level of stoke there for mountain biking, all ages, all abilities, all the everything.

I kinda wished I woulda pulled out my phone and snapped a few photos of kids flipping and twisting shitties on the pump track and all manner of other amazing things, but I allowed myself to be in the moment.

*segue*

I've been reflecting a lot lately, mebbe too much.  Perhaps it was my close brush with the fantasy of retiring from real work, or it could just be human nature to heavily ponder one's existence when the leaves start falling and it's dark all the time.

This November marks a time thirty years ago when I first slung a messenger bag over my shoulder and started making money on a bike.  I've been riding my 1992 Cannondale Tarck bike (aka The Fastest Bike in the World) for over twenty years.  Next year will mark thirty-five years of making great'ish bike race.  

Absolutely none of those things make me feel young...

But riding a bike still does, so I guess I'm still marginally okay.

Feels like I did more than that.  Dunno.  Snagged a few podiums and took the top step a few times, which seems like a sad indication of one sort or another.  Generally speaking, fewer and fewer single speeders are showing up to races, and the average age is getting closer to death... I mean "older."  Or is it that mountain bike races in general are losing some numbers to garvel, bike packing, and video games?  I'd dwell on it but...

This is normally the season for me to not think about making plans for the next year, but the Girona Gravel Group has been throwing out dates and locations for another trip... Tuscany... Freiburg... Slovenia... Argentina.

Are these even real places?

I've been reluctant to sign up for the Winter Shart Tarck Series for what is probably the dumbest of reasons.  It looked like there was a glimmer of hope that I might have a 32" Fox fork before it starts in mid-January, and I've allowed myself to fantasize about racing on a fully capable 32" single speed.  The course has been chewed up enough over the years that riding rigid is less than optimal... and I'm old... so there's all that.  That glimmer has dimmed to the point of being a randomly disappointing flicker of light on a far horizon.  I've spent too much time day dreaming of 110mm of travel on a dry track with the fastest of tires...

I'll just tell myself it's gonna be five successive weekends of mud.

*fox staring at possibly sour grapes emoji*

So for now, I'm going to futz around with waxing chains, mebbe get around to really testing the Clik valves, consider what language I'm not going to bother to learn, and make the most of those forty-eight hour weekly reprieves to seek out as much sunlight as I can find.

And no,  I don't know what I'm going to do if/when Vassago starts making 32" gravel frames.