The last week in Michigan was awesome for so many reasons. The weather was perfect. I enjoyed being out in the country. It reminded me very much of where I grew up in Pennsylvania. I enjoyed getting to know Carissa’s family more, including meeting relatives I’d never met before and seeing where Carissa’s brother and stepfather make their pizza ovens as well as where they are going to have their restaurant. We had fresh roasted coffee every morning, either pour-over or via their new industrial espresso machine. We had home-made pizza one evening, made with home-made cheese, home-made dough, washed down with locally brewed 10% IPA (that might have made me a little bit belligerent…oops). We went to awesome stores and to the dunes by Lake Michigan. We ate homemade crepes for lunch…twice. After relatively painless drives/flights back we all quickly fell asleep Friday night. Penn slept for over 12 hours that night.
Saturday was a day at the velodrome for me. At the Superdrome here in Texas you are required to take the developmental class, which is about 4 hours long. After that you are free to ride on the track during open track times or race (assuming you also obtain a racing license). I took a track developmental class in Pennsylvania…in 1994. Last time I rode on a track was (I think) 1996.
The beginning of the class was a little mind-numbing but an expected and necessary evil to get onto the track. The Superdrome is steeper than anything I’d ridden before and did take some getting used to. But once open track was declared and I could take a couple laps at speed, I started to get hooked again. There is just nothing like the feel of the g-forces when really hammering through a turn on a velodrome. Especially one with turns that steep.
After the open track session we practiced pacelining for 20 laps. Then we finished the day with a 10 lap scratch* race, which I won! Back in 1994 I won the developmental class race, too, and I was hooked. I feel the same things now, just with the more weathered enthusiasm and caution of age.
Sunday, possibly inspired by Saturday’s tiny success, I rode to the morning ride in Oak Cliff, then lobbied for a longer route than normal. The combination allowed me to break the 50 mile mark for the first time in 15 or so years.
While we were in Michigan I just couldn’t stop thinking about Margot. How much she would have loved it there and loved meeting her extended family and hanging out with them. There are so many things that are continuously covered with the smell of loss. Things I wanted her to experience, things I wanted to experience with her. Things that while enjoyable, were made alive in an unfathomable way for me with her there, and are now made dark with her absence.
When I ride I am traveling back in time. I am in a place she never inhabited. A place she couldn’t inhabit. I think that’s why I like it so much.
* I always thought it was a race to the scratch, or the line “scratched” across the track to indicate the finish line. Sounds more poetic to me.