It’s getting dark and the seasons are finally changing.
It’s harder to wake up, get up, get prepared for 50 minutes of hammering on the pedals.
We’re getting tired of changing bottom brackets, brake pads, tires, and bar tape.
Tired of pulling tape from our bikes and scraping mud from our toenails.
But even when the results don’t come, and every step forward feels like two steps back – “Sure, that race was one of my best of all time, but it didn’t feel like it” – the little things make the sport worth it.
The turning leaves; dogs (and roosters, and sheep) of cross; junior racers winning turkey legs as big as their heads; watching the pros fight it out, chased by long shadows.
Even far from home, and far from feeling at our best, we love this sport.