Sunday on the snow and ice and nobody cares where you’ve gone or what you’re up to and that’s the best feeling in the world. Get out there. Ride across the lake and don’t ask questions. Pedal. Forward. Never look back. Cut your losses and push your heart into the place where it’s about to explode and then keep going because the other end of this thing is going to be so much better than where you started from. Jump in. All in. There is only one life and one trip from birth to death and if the smiles aren’t there they simply aren’t there.
Return to sender. Undelivered. What happens while you’re gone is irrelevant. Don’t ask. Keep moving because this band sucks and they’re not going to get better, but they try hard and they showed up which is more than can be said for a handful of others, but it’s twelve months later and the whole world has changed. It’s Sunday. All day. Unless it rains, but we all know that isn’t going to happen because it’s only fifteen degrees in this event center on the edge of the ice.
Pound sand or crush gravel or crunch snow or kick rocks. It’s all the same when it’s swimming around in your stomach.