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Brain Farts :: 5.3.2007
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Dear Mom,
Motherhood is one of the most difficult jobs in the world, and you deserve special recognition as the mother of a mountain biker.
All those times you had to get up in the middle of the night for my 2:00 a.m. feeding... that must have been great preparation for waiting in the feed zone, and handing me a fresh water bottle every lap—especially during late-night laps at 24 hours races. Thanks for being there.
I know that mountain biking can be confusing to an outsider. In retrospect, perhaps there were some things that would have been better left unsaid. Like when I told you that my bike is worth more than my car, or that it costs several hundred dollars per year, just to replace the parts that wear out or break. But you always taught me to tell the truth.
"When are you going to grow up and stop playing with those bikes," is a very valid question, mom. Thanks for not asking it any more, even if you don't completely understand my answer.
And I'm really not mad about you laughing when I told you that I won $20 for third place in a race that cost me $35 to enter. Really.
Your cooking really is top notch. It's just that, um, I gotta stick to my special diet. Race season is here, and I need to drop a few pounds.
Sorry about the time I left muddy tire tracks on the carpet. My bad. And that science experiment festering in a partially-consumed bottle of energy drink—phew, that was nasty. I promise to be more careful in the future.
Even though I'm grown up now, I wanna give special thanks for changing my dirty diapers, way back when. Too bad you didn't save them—they're great for cleaning drivetrains.
With love,
Your Little Mountain Biker
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