Commonplace

I'm always amused by what we consider normal, blah, or just plain boring. As humans, we quickly lose site of many of the positives in our lives, simply because they're always available. We all grow accustomed to the day-to-day or week-to-week aspects of life that quickly become commonplace, and well, meh...

Here's the kicker, though. Take that everyday, blah thing away for over 5 months, add cold, dark, winter weather and mix thoroughly, and pretty soon you find yourself longing for what was at one point a nuisance.

Like mom's cooking before you go away to college, you never really appreciate something until it's gone for a certain period of time. During daylight savings time, there's a fixture in the cycling community here in Greenville known as the Tuesday Night World Championships at SCTAC (formerly Donaldson). It's a chance for riders of any skill level to get together and mix it up every week, whether they're racers, Freds, or wannabe hammerheads like yours truly.

Much more than that, though, Tuesday nights are an anchor. As I pulled up to the parking lot the other evening, I felt my heart bloom as I saw the Usual Suspects in their normal spots, getting kitted up, pumping tires, and throwing a leg over the top tube for the ride. Like spring., what had been old hat, boring, and a bit of an obligation back in October, was again reborn. Even though I saw most of these people just a day or two before, seeing them out in that familiar environment just drove the point home: this are my people. This is what we do.

The ride was almost secondary. The wind was howling, and I'm trying to step up to a faster group, so I got my butt kicked pretty soundly. I ended up working about as hard as I've ever worked at these rides, but, when I pulled back up to the parking lot there they all were, beer in hand, chitchatting, and all smiles as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Come July and August, I might be cursing these rides, but, for now, it's good to be home again, clicking in, taking pulls, sucking on wheels, and telling lies afterwards.