Thursday, December 30, 2010

Aching for Mud


By M.M.Blomberg

Veins are missing something,
That kept me rolling on.
For months OBRA
Kept me high
Now it’s all dried up and gone.

A NEED that I paid for,
in blood, sweat and knees.
To play in the rain,
and the dirt,
and the trees.
Every week had a plan, of what, when and where.
Now my schedule is empty,
Left with nothing but air.

My craving, not satisfied,
the heaviness grows.
I’ve got no one to cheer for,
and no races of my own.
Shaking and vibrating,
Anxiety builds.
Wishing Cross Crusade came
in an off season pill.

Desperately I search the web,
I ache for muddy action,
But I’ve seen all the videos
At least three times,
Denied my satisfaction.

Don’t try an intervention,
It’s the grit and speed I love.
The ringing of the cowbell
And the bleeding and the mud.
It’s what I eat
And live and breathe,
Four months out of the year,
It’s the only fix I know of,
That comes in spinning gears.

So go load up
my weekly dose,
Inject that vitamin “C”,
Cause if you raced cyclocross
You’d be and addict.

Just like me.

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