Northbound to Georgia

I love the kind of weekend where everything goes right, but when does that ever happen? Friday night, halfway through the 500-mile drive to western Georgia, I came down with a crippling stomach virus that thankfully didn’t make its exit until after checking into the hotel around midnight but left me praying to the porcelain God until dawn. In the morning, despite only a few hours of sleep and more nausea than appetite, I was still able to ride, thanks to some Pedialite in my Camelback and my insanely-high tolerance for pain and somewhat comfort being uncomfortable, though I don’t think I’ve ever ridden after falling ill, but there’s a first time for everything. All I had to do was show up and twist the throttle, right? Riiight…



With conditions at Highland Park Resort the best they’ve been in a while, according to the Facebook page: “PERFECTION! Best weather in a long time, no dust, no rain, temps in the high 60’s. Perfect moisture in the dirt, trails and tracks,” I knew as soon as I started my bike , I would forget about my stomachache – even if I wanted to turn back immediately, the trails are all one-way so there was no going back. Not that I wanted to quit. The trails at Highland Park do not suck, but they are extremely difficult, which is extremely satisfying because there’s nothing worse than driving all that way for something that makes you ask yourself, “Why am I doing this?” At some point, I did wonder how the hell I was even able to ride such advanced trails since the park was packed but no one else was riding them. But I had something driving me: my race this Sunday in Seville, FL, which is sure to be sandy and nothing like the terrain in Georgia, but seat time builds confidence especially since I’ve only been married to this bike for 6 months. I recognized a few trails from my last trip to HP and rode some new ones, trying to push myself as much as I could despite my mind yelling that I needed to eat something or I should be in bed napping! Yawn…


That’s me ripping at the top of the frame

Sunday rolled around and I felt a lot better after breakfast so I went out for another ride, letting the trails push me, which of course meant I was in for some soil sampling, and that’s OK. Crashing means you’re pushing past your comfort zone and that’s where the magic happens.


Red clay weekend


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