An early wakeup, followed by a two-hour drive and then six hours of riding mountain bikes. Coffee in the morning, water all day, and beer a hour before the ride concluded. Then we pile back into the minivan for the ride home. Whoever is driving concentrates on the road while everyone else nods off. Then, though it's a matter of a mile difference, the driver goes straight home with all of us instead of dropping each of us. So it's a quick ride home on your bike. A shortcut through the city park. In the split second of watching your fork soak up a hit from the curb, you're tossed over the handlebars, and a day that flew past turns to slow-motion. And all you can think is, "I rode by bike 6 hours on brutal trails, and I get hurt in the last half-mile in a city park on the ride home." Somehow that split second in the air is enough to fit that whole thought. It gives you a new appreciation of time.
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