Waxing Moronic

This is the time of year when many of us are doing other things beside sailing. Of course here in Dago, we get to do it all year 'round, so ha-ha to the rest of you suckers stuck in some freezing-ass part of the world.

One of the other things that we get to do with little regard for seasons (what are they, again?) is to mountain bike. Today I was at one of my favorite places called Daley Ranch, just east in a town called Escondildo. It had rained the night before and the late afternoon was cool and crisp. Nobody else was on the trail and I was having fun riding by myself on my bad-ass steed (an Ellsworth Truth).

Riding is just so great because not only is it a real challenge (or at least it can be) but my mind tends to really free-up when I'm on a decent-length ride. You're removed from all mod cons of the world, and you tend to just focus on the task at hand.

It dawned on me (great thinker, I know) that the essence of this experience must be the essence of single-handed sailing. No outside human influences, nobody to piss on your parade, except yourself. It's all about you, your vehicle, your environment and little else.

So to all of you that are fanatical about single-handed (and even shorthanded) racing, I can relate, at least in part. As one who has disdain for much of today's society and the people who make it so, I relish the chance to get away from it all, on my terms. And I suspect that is part of why you do it to.

01/08/2002