Frozen in Time

In our hallway, just outside the doorway to the master bedroom, is a goofy little collage I did of pictures from the first race where I ever won any money.

(For the record, a time trial where I recorded the third fastest women's time overall, and first for my category. I was beaten only by a professional mountain biker and a professional triathlete/personal trainer. I used to be really fast. Perhaps I'll do it again someday.)

I had the second start time, behind the previous year's winner. There was no pre-registration, and my carpool of people got there really early and were the first to register. Behind me was a group of guys from my team competing in the five-man category.

Several of the pictures in the collage are of us in the staging area and at the start line. They make me incredibly wistful. Directly behind me is a good friend of mine, also my former boss. I'd love to say it wasn't true, but my stint of working there changed our friendship in a less than good way. There aren't hard feelings (not on my end, and I don't think on his end either) but it has changed nonetheless. Being around there, I learned a bunch of things about several people I wouldn't have known if hadn't worked there--idiosyncracies that make you see them in a new way that isn't entirely positive. Not terrible, unforgiveable things...just, maybe things you don't need to know about your friends.

Behind him is a guy who used to be the captain of our team, who now works for a competing shop and is on their race team. It was odd, to leave that way, and it's really quite uncomfortable. I hear he still comes on the store rides (they're open to all) and tries to stir things up. Sad, really.

Behind him, someone in the service who was stationed elsewhere before we really got a chance to know him very well. He had just started to loosen up and we got to know the guy behind the sort of nervous, self-conscious guy who was trying too hard to fit in.

Next, another man in the service who was stationed overseas later that summer. I heard from him a few times when I worked at the shop, but once we leave this area, I betcha I'll never talk to him again. Shame...he's a hell of a nice guy. His wife is really great too. I do miss riding with them, and talking with them about politics. It's a subject we didn't agree on, but you could actually disagree with them and still have an enlightening, constructive conversation.

The last guy on the team is yet another person who's moved away. One of our closest friends in the riding group, and a big loss to us when he felt that he had to move to be closer to family and to do the right thing for his kids. Another person I can disagree with and still have a good conversation, which I find to be a rare commodity.

We're all smiling ear to ear in those pictures, despite the cold of the morning that day, and the fact that we were about to leave on a 40 kilometer (about 25 miles) trip of complete agony. It was my second time trial and I knew the pain that was coming, but I had my boys behind me and I could hear them cheering for me until I went around the first gentle bend in the road. When they passed me (which was inevitable, there were five of them and they're each individually faster than I am) they encouraged me again, telling me it had taken forever to chase me down and that I was going to do well if I could keep up the pace. I saw them one more time, when they'd bounced back on the course from the turnaround point and I was still approaching it. Even though they were going full out, they all yelled out to me.

That was a great day. I remember the pancakes that G went to get us, and the over-ripened banana that I had to choke down to get enough energy to set myself up for a good race. I remember joking that time was standing still because I was on the trainer warming up, and I remember the big "arm warmers or no arm warmers" debate.

More than that, I remember drifting in to find them all waiting for me in our warm-up area, and then the six of us lining up for a picture. I made sure we all got a copy of it. There's a copy of it up in the bike store. When we go to St. Louis, J will be the last one left here from that partial team picture.

But every time I see the collage, we're all happy and smiling and together, about to have a good race. And we always will be.