Barbarians!

As I chased after a couple of faster (although younger) riders the other night at Munson I had an epiphany. Racing through the woods along trails is something that's rooted in our distant past.

First on foot as we chased after food. Then on horses chasing game. The fastest got the kill and therefore the first or largest piece of the meal. So we all want to be the fastest. I can just imagine tearing through the primal woods whooping and hollering. Dodging back and forth along the trails. Then celebrating at the end of the hunt with a meal and some kind of manly (or womanly) drink. Sound familiar? What do you think? Don't you get some kind of deep seated pleasure at the end of a particularly hard ride? How about the urge to grab something hearty to eat? I've heard the celebratory hiss of an adult beverage being opened at the end of a long day as we toast our successful "hunt". So we really can't help riding in the woods. It's a part of us.

Ok let's take it a step farther. Look how we separate into tribes when we ride. This was one of the first differences I noticed when I left moto and started cycling. We all get along but we seem to settle into groups and tend to ride with that group most of the time. Kinda like tribes see? We even wear "colors" (well some of us do) sometimes to identify which tribe we're most closely associated with.

I don't ride road bikes so I wonder if they get the same thrill as those of us who only ride in the woods. From the outside it all looks so clean, civilized, and orderly. Do their tribes get along or do they just try to kill each other? Do they have the urge to howl at the moon while they ride? Do they even drink post ride beers?

Both Rupe and I have hit the ground pretty hard this week. Me getting over a large (to me) root on Cadillac and him clipping an unseen stump with his pedal also on Cadillac. It was scary to watch him launch into the air, perform a 180, then hit the ground with a thud. He got up and walked it off but it took the edge off of him for the rest of the evening. I'm almost embarrassed to tell about my little ordeal. See, I have this one root that has terrified me since we started riding. Almost everybody else clears it without even thinking about it but not me. So I decided I was going to do it. The first time I sailed right over it. Ha! Nothing to it. So I turned around to make another run, pulled up on the bars too early and plowed right into it. My ankle found the chair ring about the same time my shoulder met the tree and I ended up in a pile. Being both stubborn and untalented I made two more runs at it and even though I didn't fall again I never made it all the way over clean. Maybe I'll take up road riding.