MY DAD HAD THIS JOKE ABOUT THE 3 STAGES OF LIFE. It made no sense to me when I was in my 20s. Now that he's gone, it's just more evidence he was a genius... so, let me try and screw it up while applying it to me 'n Jefe.
Young guns, falling in love with girls and bikes. Dude, I pooled all my shekels and I'm pulling the trigger on a Gios with Campy Super Record.
Young families, and we reconnect the friendship and epic endurance mancations. Dude, have you heard of the 24 hours of Moab?... let's do it!
The sprocket of life showing some serious wear. Hey, is there a bathroom on the route?
Jefe, aka Dr. Sumsion, was one of the first cats to get a road bike in the college days. I think it was to help his ski racing. He had this cool Italian rig. I had a Cannondale touring bike, because surely 3 rings in front must be better than 2! All I knew then, or know now, is that he's always on the forefront of what's cool... proof: he's been begging me for 10+ years to do a gravel race.
We lost touch after college, but somehow reconnected. It was over the 24 hours of Moab. We grabbed PViddy and McKay and trotted out to see what we could do. I'd never had so much fun suffering through cramps, dark and snow. So began my re-entry to racing and the world of heinously hard endurance events.
These days, he pops down to SoCal a couple of time a year and if I'm lucky he carves out time to go for a ride... usually spending the night at my place and hitting TMWC. The rest of the time I'm longing for, and occasionally pulling off, the amazing riding in Park City.
What came first, the friendship or the bike? Who cares!
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