No Rhythm

I’ve been experiencing a rhythm famine lately. Can’t seem to get on my bike and stay moving for more than a few minutes. Group rides will do that to you. Stopping to line up photos will do that to you. Slow leaks will do that to you. New frames will do that to you.

I’ve ridden a fair amount this week, but may have set a new weekly record for stopped time. It’s not a trend I want to see continue, but it has been nice enough just to get out.

I spent the last three days riding with a writer doing a story for Bike. I took him on a tour of some of our well known rides and took some pics (forthcoming). In the mix I built up my new Behemoth frame and fork, transferring most of my parts from the old Behemoth.

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Weary of driving to ride, I set off from the house on the shiny green bike. Destination: Hidden Canyon.

Just past the University I heard a high pitched whine from my wheel. Slow turning revealed a flat. I stopped to pump it up every 10 minutes for the next hour and a half.

No rhythm. Sun in my eyes, headache simmering, I’ve had better days.

I kept pumping it up thinking that the next section of trail might yield the right combination of speed, tilt and rock necessary for it to seal for good. Wishful thinking. Instead it continued its shockingly annoying whine, the likes of which I’ve never heard a tube make before.

Sometimes persistence pays. The slow climbing and tilted rocks on Hidden Canyon hit the natural frequency of the slime/tube/tire interface. The damn thing finally sealed.

At the same time, Hidden Canyon struck a beautiful chord, hitting the natural frequency of my fading neural network. It set me on fire, the likes of which I haven’t seen for some time.

The world needs more trails like this.

Wheels moving from rock to rock. Temporary position, tenuous, treacherous. I feel like I’m getting away with something. Big. Laughing out loud, with saguaros my only audience. My god is the desert alive.

I was glowing all the way back through town, watching the fading light making its own journey across Tucson’s back roads. Happy just to be outside, moving, continuous.

Rhythm found.