Road Biking: Discovering a new land in an old home

With the mountain bike temporarily out of commission and Spring glory in full swing, I was in a space where premeditated crime was imminent.  (Where the crime is not riding your bike in our beautiful back yard during the peak of our most jubilant bicycle season).  

Sometimes experimentation is the closest route to failure.  This time, experimentation lead to a new addictions and a shift of perspective.  It was the nearest route to the unspeakable & unfathomable truth that I've resisted acknowledging for decades: Road biking in the Shenandoah Valley is a sacred experience.  Until a few rides ago, in my mind, road riding was an exclusive activity for Canadians, squares, leg shaving number munchers and chicks.  I WAS WRONG.

I felt the false pretenses hold strong on my first road ride; hands numb, neck sore, solo, uncomfortable, sweaty, car dodging.  Following the one hour pre-work ride I thought to myself "Not sold yet.  Maybe it's similar to that drug that I heard about in college, marijuana, where you don't feel it on your first try."   Still curious, I planned a couple more rides & the magic started to work its way into my system.  I jumped on the slow time machine after work to ride to my parent's house with Kiki.  We started making our way out of town & ran into fellow lifestyle rider Sam Taylor.  He offered companionship on our route & we gladly accepted.

"Posture, breathing, posture, breathing."  Was my mantra and suddenly I was relaxed, comfortable and powerful.  Flying like a bird, my wings a bicycle.  Climbing to the top of the country on clouds of velvet pavement.  Cruising on familiar roads at an unfamiliar pace, we rode along my old school bus routes, never before so blissed out.

I guess its time to start saving for my next new bike!