A Year of Shelter

Life changed for us 365 days ago. I doubt you or anyone you know would have been willing to guess that the life you’re living today was even possible. It was certainly beyond my imagination, and I mean, dude, I’m a verb slinger; I am built for nothing so much as imagining.

For all that our lives are not, currently, we’re a good deal better off than anyone in San Quentin. Imagine, if you will, going through all this without the benefit of social media, sites like TCI and, hell, teh Interwebz.

It’s possible I’d choose San Quentin over living through a pandemic with no Internet.

I’m an introvert. Let’s just get that out of the way. I don’t much like people, but I like a person. The founder and guitarist of the legendary band King Crimson, Robert Fripp, was once quoted saying that he and a cup of tea was a party and he and a cup of tea and a book was an orgy.

I know where that guy lives.

I raise that point because even when life is normal, I am happy to be at home spinning these pieces I write from peanut butter and jelly, tired legs, and greasy fingers. If a day passes and the only people I speak to are my boys, it’s no great tragedy.

But after a year of confining my movements to exclude movie theaters, cycling events, and restaurants with waiters and white-linen wine service, even I, the guy who shuns crowds, is itchy to go to a party.

And if the introverts are saying, “Man, I need to get out and socialize,” well the proverbial “it” is on.

My point here is to validate your experience. It’s been a tough year. For all you who make cycling events, group rides and tap houses lively places to socialize, I miss you and feel for you. If you, yourself, came down with Covid-19, I hope your recovery has been thorough and you suffer no lasting effects. More important, I sincerely hope you haven’t lost anyone.

If you’re anything like me, you’ve got a social media feed flooded with the greatest selfies of all time—friends with needles in their arms or pics of their vaccination records. They are as sure a sign of hope as a lottery ticket, and considerably more likely to pay out.

Two days hence, TCI will pass six months of existence, our first minor milestone. It’s my hope that the diverse collection of voices Cush, Robot and I have pulled together here have helped you feel more connected to your sport, your world. Whether you followed us from RKP, chased Stevil’s breadcrumbs or found us by some other method, thank you for making this possible. Thanks to you all our contributors are paid in full, and usually in under 30 days.

And if you haven’t subscribed us yet, I hope you’ll support us. I’m proud to say I’m confident we are worth it.

It won’t be long until we will all be pinning numbers on again. And sometime after that, TCI will announce plans for our first event.

It’s been a long year, but one finally coming to an end.