Where am I?

... riding my bike.

In 45 days (or so) I'll be entering a mountain bike race that is 67 kilometers long and mostly uphill. This is my 6th year entering the race which is called the Test of Metal, this is my 6th season of training, of wondering what the heck I'm doing, my legs screaming, my gardens going to weed and seed, my house a disaster, my work all bunched up and my poetry? Well, who has time? I am so tired by the time my daughter is in bed, I can barely hold a book.

It's the season of pain and gain. The race will take me 5 and a half hours without stopping. We have to carry all our own tools, hide bottles of water along the way. There are some drink stations that hand out pieces of orange and potatoes. There are sections lined with cheering crowds and cow bells. There are miles and miles of wilderness, some pretty steep and technical descents, 1000 riders. Lots of people on the side of the road screaming with muscle cramps, bike breakdowns, dehydration - last year the temperature was 35 degrees.

I'm 52. Last year's race just about did me in, but I won a bronze medal in my category. This year might be my last year. I'm thinking of taking up downhill racing next - not as much climbing! Ha, actually, I'm going to do more trail running next year I think.

so that's where I am. All my poems this month suck.

Jude