standing alone at the top of the stairs

yeah so after the typical teasing breeze of warmth we are back to a little colder, and a little more damp, than one might wish. i did get the front gardens raked out sunday, so they are looking nice, and just in time for frosting and freezing!

but the good news is, i went to the vélodrome on saturday, and it was a blast. mostly we got things ready: attached various things the winds had blown off, set up the tarps, got out the chairs, that sort of thing. by 1:00 it was time to take some laps. i may have actually been the first rider to hit the track this calendar year! there was no racing, just a some solo grunting and then a series of exhilarating pacelines. oh man. it never really got nice (only threatened with occasional flashes of direct sunlight), and there was a stiff wind that made coming out of turn 1 interesting, but all in all it was good clean fun of the sort i haven't had in a while.



i mention racing with a bit of trepidation. the whole thing arouses certain long-dormant conflicts over the value of athleticism, the spirit of competition, the meaning of artistry, and so on. i don't consider myself to be an athelete, nor a competitor; long ago i surrendered myself (or so i thought) to the cerebral in favor of any real or imagined physical prowess. this was in part a response to thew adolescent "jocks versus freaks" bullshit that went on in school. but it is also (in part) a sincere recognition on my part of just how much energy a person can devote to things: to truly excel in athletics requires discipline and above all time for training. instead i learned the bebop idiom, and to play piano and saxophone in that idiom, along with other instruments and other idioms. i needed to do that, and i'm glad i did; let someone else set records in the 200 meters.



but still inside somewhere there is a desire to beat a guy, to be stronger somehow. i have to struggle with that, in reality, to overcome the crummy feeling of being dropped by carbon-fibered roadies. i tell myself "they can't play saxophone like hank mobley" and i'm sure of that, so that's good. but at the vélodrome, someday, the idea of actually racing is going to come up. and i'm going to have to be able to deal with having my ass handed to me. i'm not espeially worried, mostly because the other riders i've met have all been very friendly, and the atmosphere is convivial, so i can imagine easily enough that there is no gloating or baiting over the order of finish. still, it is just a lingering feeling...we shall see.