Pump, Jump, Fly | Octane Press

Pump, Jump, Fly

50 Fridays 2: On the Trail with Joan's Jett

Friday morning, January 8th. Holidays done, over, behind me.
I’m good with that.

No more trees and lights and gifts and cookies and family. All fine things . . . but done, and a new year is beckoning. Time to get back to making books and making things happen.
Boost the sales reps. Keep the designers and developers on track making the new website sah-wheet. Shoot. Write. Travel. Wheel, deal, and hire.

I’m happy to be back, anxious to attack the new year’s books, goals, and targets . . . let’s roll.
But I started this thing. Fridays. Riding bikes.
Shit. Noon. Time to go ride. Fine.

As soon as I put the bike on the rack on my truck, I’m like, yeah. I love my bike. It’s pretty and light and fast and blue, and I like looking at it almost as much as riding it.
So that helped.

This Friday was also special. Joan, my wife, had new wheels. A Specialized Jett, and she was taking her first ride on the new rig.
Pretty. Slick. And it fit Joan like a glove.
She’s fussy. She notices every little thing that doesn’t fit. This bike suited her on the first test ride.

The day’s ride was Reimer’s Ranch, which has nice views, a great mix of tech and flow, and a beginner’s loop that winds nicely and is perfect for warming up a new rig.
My zeal (obsession) with websites and sales reps melted away in the warm Texas winter sun.

Joan is amazing on a bike. She’s fearless and strong. She and the Jett cleared several obstacles with ease that no longer surprises me.
We did the easy loop and moved on to the intermediate loop. Joan remained strong and focused, at times a bit frustrated.
I was struck by how differently you see a trail when riding with someone you love. I usually ride it my buddy Mark, and I don’t think of the ride as very hard. (Mark, I love  you man, but not in the way where I worry about you crashing).

I just see the spots I can’t do and break them down and analyze. The parts that I’m comfortable on don’t appear to be anything but a trail.
Riding with Joan, I saw all the spots where the rocks might throw her off. The ledges she could fall off.
I saw the trail from another perspective.

No worries. She’s as smart as she is strong.
I also was struck by how pleasurable it is to watch someone you care about do a sport you love.
The end of the ride is a big, long downhill, and I let my bike rip and roll a bit. I knew Joan would ride her speed and could see she was fine on the new wheels—she wasn’t one to overdo it to keep up. But, yet, there she was, on my ass.

Warm sun. Pump, jump, rip, float, fly.
Oh yes.

Two down, forty-eight to go.
Joan at Reimers Ranch
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