Coco lives. She is the soft-spoken, hard-headed unofficial mascot of this cycling outfit I'm a part of. She travels to races and tries to get as good of a view as she can. It's not easy not having legs. The legs she once had weren't hers anyway. Here she's showing a little skin to get the boys rowled up. She sure is somethin'.
The reason I bring up miss Coco is because much of what is on my mind lately relates to the fast approaching race season. I've been stressing out about it. I've always told myself that racing should be fun. My competitiveness does not run deep. I don't strive to be a great athlete. I just like to push myself. I like the people and the times before and after an event, the jokes, sleeping on floors, living out of a car, leaving town, and so on. Coco embodies those good times. She reminds me to keep it light, like her (cause after all, she's just a hollow fiber glass torso).
Sometimes he'll dance with paddles. Sometimes he'll just dance. Sometimes he'll curl into a ball and fall asleep. And sometimes he'll walk an extra flight of stairs to my room and fall asleep in my bed.
Coco lives. She is the soft-spoken, hard-headed unofficial mascot of this cycling outfit I'm a part of. She travels to races and tries to get as good of a view as she can. It's not easy not having legs. The legs she once had weren't hers anyway. Here she's showing a little skin to get the boys rowled up. She sure is somethin'.
I spent valentines night learning how to cross country ski. A good time was had by all. My roommate may have enjoyed himself a bit more than me, seeing as he got pulled down a snow covered fire road behind an suv. It was touch and go for a while. I was riding in the car behind him, laughing as he slid to either side of the road. Good times.