After spending the last week fishing out hats and gloves and stashing my carbon tubulars in the corner of the garage, it renews my faith to wake up to November sunshine and warm(ish) weather. Days like this are stolen indulgences. I eagerly swap out the boat anchor wheel attached to the trainer even though I don’t need to hit max power or bring home a QOM. I just need to ride my damn bike before the changing of the seasons drives me mad.
As the sun hits my back like a giant solar panel, I don’t focus on my crappy fitness or that my quads are screaming on the smallest inclines. I don’t need to glance at the power numbers on my Garmin to declare it a “good ride.”
After a season that could have been, but wasn’t, I need these small wins to renew my faith. As I slip into the drops, my mind wanders to next season. This time of year is all about possibilities, dreaming of the top step, the breakaway that sticks. Thoughts swirl as we slip into our winter cocoons and then emerge, prepared to test our wings in the spring. What do I want to become? The pavement stretches out forever. So many roads lead back home.