I've had a plastic tub of 'em stored away for several years...memories escape every time the lid comes off.
- an MS rideI've saved them fearing that without I won't remember the miserable MS weekend with conditions that spanned low temps and icy rain (we got soup for our stomachs and bread bags for our feet in a little cafe in Moose Lake) to 90s and sweat the next day (one of the ugliest photos of my life was taken that day).
- the jazz fest during a friend's wedding in Fort Worth
- pounding nails on a habitat house
- the precursor to the NVGP
- the local day tour in Northfield
I worry I won't remember being so far off the back in a Superweek race that when we caught another dropped racer she thought we were the break catching her -- she was in awe when she learned we were only 3s and 4s and we were "this far away from the front of the pack?!"
What about the wonderful time in TX bonding with friends who'd scattered 'round the country? the Jesse James shoot-'em-up reenactment in Northfield after the ride? where I learned my nail-pounding skills along with the satisfaction of helping someone in need?
I sat down last week and quartered my old shirts that have been taking up space in the attic. At first it hurt. But the beauty? Now each shirt is in six to eight pieces all mixed together and each time I take one out to clean a bicycle I have a different flood of fond memories that make maintenance that much more enjoyable.
PS off to cycle the Michigan coastline for the upcoming week -- you all have a good one!