Artcyclescotland

The Latin root of the word ‘compete: com(petere)’ means ‘to seek’, or as the radical architect William McDonough explained it; “competition means to train together … and then race”—the true purpose of “competition” in other words is to help each other become fit and strong, whatever the task.
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The last thing I did before leaving home was “earth-up” my potatoes; pulling up more ground to cover over the green leaves pushing through the soil: slightly eccentric race preparation perhaps, but I knew I’d ride better if I got this done. You’ll hear that potatoes are good for “cleaning out the ground” which—depending on how one looks at it—is either true or near nonsense. In my experience—and it is limited to this audience of Catriona’s—it is the gardner that cleans out the soil looking after the potatoes; the crop “trains” the gardner to be attentive and ensure that in the competition between it and “weed” the crop wins out.
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A cabinet curiosity asleep in “the hearse” (Chéz Volvo) on Friday night.

‘Anxiety Dream #4’
On the edge of a steep ravine, on a gentle slope of a path
going North-East, you have a little walk, pushing a bicycle.

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I know how much Lindsay my riding partner loves to go fast and smooth—we’ve spent hours chasing each other down muddy trails but I have an incomplete picture of him riding the race circuit: big-ringing it along the puggy-line; cutting elegantly through the rock field in the woods … the shared experience of an action which, as each hour passes, as each lap becomes more enriched by experience, more complex, visual, unfixed and liquid in the intense heat—to help each other become fit and strong.
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Small kindnesses and gentle words in evening sunlight.
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Anxiety Dream # 5
Sitting on a rock out front of a burger van with a live one with onions and ketchup, a cold beer, and some Australian guy in a thong setting fire to stuff.
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The cleats of ‘Anxiety Dream #4′
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I spent the afternoon after the race driving the uplift at Wolftrax; a way to kick-back after the intense experience of the previous days racing—you don’t spend much time with your race partner during the ten hours of the race except to exchange a few words in the transition area: words about how the track is running, what to watch out for, words of encouragement, words charged with all the explosive energy that the body has just emptied itself of  … I imagine a new poetic of the transition area … the exchanges “adequate”, urgent … good to haul myself up a fireroad in a Landrover instead of on a bike then, and enjoy the energy of other, fresher riders—to help each other become fit and strong, whatever the task.