Sabbatical

Bikes are like big capacitors of happiness. You work hard to spin them up full of good feelings and memories and later on, when you need it, they discharge back into you through less fervent revolution of the pedals.

We've been charging the bikes a lot lately, and turning the cranks of life pretty hard too (man, just how hard can I milk this metaphor?). The aftermath of the Kona led into the onset of year end madness pretty quickly and there's been a palpable need to decompress.



Jim's year has been stellar. It's hard to believe that it was only three years ago that he borrowed a bike for Ride to Work Day, won a light for his efforts and figured he'd better buy a bike to put it on. Two oh oh seven has made him a competitive number among the Expert field, a team-mate of one of the great men of enduro racing, a husband and a home owner.

Nell has ridden himself ragged putting in the kind hours on the bike and behind a wrench that would make lesser men sick at the sound of a freewheel. Through those hours he managed to keep a wickedly juvenile sense of humour and a genuine compassion for his fellow rider alive. A new job behind a desk and good old fashioned summertime illness coincide with just a wee bit of burn out and yep, it's time for a sabbatical.

Long solos and little trips to the milk bar; agenderless afternoon dirt surfing sessions and catch up rides where the pace is measured in the width of the grin. Riding around in little circles. Wheelies.

It's the general discharging of good vibes out of the bike-capacitor and back into the rider. Ahhh, it's learning to love again.