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18 February 2011

Pedal and breathe.

I rode the Greenway as training. It's 7 miles long, but closed for the last 1/2 mile, so 6.5 out and back is 13 miles. In the race I'll only ride 8.
Perfect 70* weather. The Ellsworth. Yoga pants, a long sleeve white polo tee, and a pony tail. Bury me like this.
Finding my rhythm and staying in the moment, I pedal and breathe.
The first stretch reminds me of home. My house in Byrnes Downs backed up to the Greenway. I remember fondly those years of my life as I pedal by. I also remember the mosquitos from the drainage ditch.
Breathe and pedal.
In the moment,
I don't even notice the bearded man in camouflage cargo shorts who might try to kill me,
the two poles marking the entrance and exit I must balance between.
I don't even notice, the root on the single track that my tire effortlessly hurdles,
the one bird flying from tree to tree.
I pass Timmerman.
I don't notice the crunching of the leaves or the shake of the gravel.
the smell of the barrel fire in the backyard,
I fail to see the spandex clad Kenyan training for another race,
the heat or the balls of my feet moving those wheels.
I pass the Ford dealership, Farmington
I don't even notice the stretch of Clemson's garden, dead and vacant
fenced with barbed wire
The charcoal white clouds that cover the periwinkle sky
I stop at the river, the dock, the water gushing through one side of the pipe,
both times, 5 miles, 8 miles
I hardly notice the cars as I cross streets between neighborhoods
the Coburg farm
I hardly notice the marsh
the other lone biker as I pass him.
Breathe and pedal.
At 6.5 miles I don't even notice the trail closed
I turn around and hardly realize
the wind in my face, the rotation of my legs
I don't notice the difficulty until after it becomes easy again.
I shift gears 5, 6, 7, 5
Pedal and breathe.

One week before the triathlon adventure race in Santee.

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