Cycling gives a sense of place. For those of us who fill our lives with riding and racing, geography becomes personal, and the journey (we’re always moving, somewhere) builds community.
Fall in Winston-Salem feels like proper fall this year: chilly mornings, tacky soil under the tires, leaves turning, sunlight sharp when it is.
This landscape etches itself into me, I into it, ‘cross training races come and go, crits wane with the daylight. Some friends travel to the big ‘cross races every weekend and are less available; some eschew cyclocross entirely and are more available than ever this time of year.
I no longer get lost on my rides, and it gets progressively harder to find unexplored roads along my usual routes. That feels like home, almost.
By: Nathaniel Ward Sep 20