Hole-y

Everyone has an object of their affection. A blanket, a picture, a car, a pet...hell, a person even. For me, a pair of cycling shorts. More specifically my favorite red Hammer Gel bibs. We have been through alot together. We have ridden to the tops of mountains, suffered through rain storms, dealt with sub-freezing temperatures, bonked in the middle of nowhere. Many hardships, many adventures, and many great times. These shorts no longer resemble what they were when they first came out of that FedEx package. No, now there are blood stains, mud stains, grass stains, and multiple holes in some not so nice places. Each marking a mistake I made along the way while we were together. From over cooking a left turn...a hole on the left hip. Not clearing a fallen log...a faded blood stain on the lower right panel. Letting a crazy puppy get too close...a crotch hole from its claws (that one hurt), and many others that I can no longer put my finger on. But at the end of the day those shorts were still there ready to give it a go tomorrow, because even through the mistakes were the amazing times and the possibility for even greater times another day. I was always there for those bibs, and the bibs were always there for me, to protect me if I was to make another stupid mistake. But those days are over, the shorts finally gave in...of course, they never said it straight to my face but they don't have to, I could see it. Just one too many mistakes went in to them, and they could no longer go on...let alone stay in one piece. It's tought to do, give up something you love so much, something you've had so many great experiences with. But those holes need to be repaired, the stains bleached, and the crotch not so damn drafty while still keeping those good memories alive. Maybe I'll ride with those Hammer Gel shorts again, someday...I miss 'em already.


Good Song: Ben Folds - Landed