Way back when I was in charge my people knew that when riding with the "boss" you did not take him on roads with "hill", "pass", "peak", "mound" or "view" in the title.
New Rules.
A new day, a new location and a new time stand begging for a change in the rules. Rules, my friends, are meant to be broken.
My first ride takes me through Alexander Valley, a popular area for wine making just outside of Healdsburg. I weave in and out, back and forth over the Russian River, the water becoming clearer, bluer as I glide further north and into the vineyards.
I don’t know why, but the air feels as though it has been filtered. It is crisp and clean and invites me to dig deep into my weary winter fitness.
As I start to climb “chalk hill road” I think back and remember watching champ, the darkness, tita & the old man slowly create distance while the heavy breathing of aom disappears, replaced by my own.
Not this year I tell myself. Not this year.
I passed countless vineyards, more than two dozen I am sure. Like corn in Illinois, the grapes suffocate the rolling hills in Sonoma County. Like farmers in Sconni’, immigrants scatter themselves across rows of vines, postcards made by each one of them.
Sit up and relax you fool. No reason to kill yourself on your first ride. Take it easy, you have the rest of the day to be impatient and focused.
My first ride takes me through Alexander Valley, a popular area for wine making just outside of Healdsburg. I weave in and out, back and forth over the Russian River, the water becoming clearer, bluer as I glide further north and into the vineyards.
I don’t know why, but the air feels as though it has been filtered. It is crisp and clean and invites me to dig deep into my weary winter fitness.
As I start to climb “chalk hill road” I think back and remember watching champ, the darkness, tita & the old man slowly create distance while the heavy breathing of aom disappears, replaced by my own.
Not this year I tell myself. Not this year.
I passed countless vineyards, more than two dozen I am sure. Like corn in Illinois, the grapes suffocate the rolling hills in Sonoma County. Like farmers in Sconni’, immigrants scatter themselves across rows of vines, postcards made by each one of them.
Sit up and relax you fool. No reason to kill yourself on your first ride. Take it easy, you have the rest of the day to be impatient and focused.
3 comments:
get outta here with that knee warmer shit! god damn bret.
OOOhhh! Hey! 60 degrees is COLD for us Californians!
As I ride my office chair and stare out my filthy office window, I can only hope there will be something better to follow. I envy your tenacity. You go my son and live my dreams..Love Mom
Post a Comment