I wore a long sleeve jersey on my ride Saturday, and saw a tree whose leaves had changed from green to red. These seemingly insignificant acts are my acknowledgement that summer really is over. I had higher aspirations for this summer but it is what it is; 43 years of harsh winters have left me perfectly suited to deal with a cold reality.
Next weekend Cin and I and two (maybe four) other couples are going to Traverse City for a long weekend to pre-ride the Iceman course. I just noticed there is a bicycle festival in the area and the inaugural 28 mile bicycle race from Hartwick Pines to Hanson Hills. I like riding at both of these trails and a point to point race through them seems worth doing, very iceman-like. What is even cooler than the pig roast they are having afterwards is the fact that there are only three classes: slow, medium, and fast. A personal pet peeve I have is that races have been broken up into so many classes that just finishing often guarantees a metal. Everyone comes away from the race thinking they are above average. I embrace being average, smack dap in the meaty part of the normal distribution curve, maybe just one standard deviation to the right of mean.
Since I have children, most the movies I watch are Disney Cartoons. My favorite is The Incredibles. After a series of lawsuits against superheroes, the Incredibles are forced to live normal lives among normal people. Over dinner Mrs. Incredible complains that Mr. Incredible isn’t going to their son’s graduation. In frustration Mr. Incredible says, in increasing temper: “he isn’t graduating, he is moving from the 4th grade to the 5th grade. They keep coming up with ways to celebrate mediocrity.” Brilliant. Mrs. Incredible interrupts: “you know what would happen if we let Dash [their super fast son] do sports!” They leave it up to the audience’s imagination. I imagine if Dash did the time trial at Ft. Custer last week, he would have won his class by 10 minutes, and on a single speed in a geared class no less, making everyone in that class feel below average. Maybe I’m just jealous, I’m not even sure.