An Epic Ride

Written on 09/15 at 12:04 PM by Andy Posner 0 comments

Filed under: Cycling

Yesterday I headed out to do a 90 mile ride from Providence to Wellesley College and back with a group of 5 racers on the Brown cycling team.  When I woke up it was raining pretty hard, yet I received an email confirming that the ride was still on.  For a moment I hesitated: on the one hand, I knew that if I went out it would be a long, wet, cold slog, but on the other hand, I knew that if I stayed inside I would regret it.  Also, given my long-term goal of doing an ultra-endurance cycling race, I was keenly aware of the need to become accustomed to training in any and all conditions.  So at 7:50 AM I left my apartment and met up with the other riders.

At first, the roads were wet, but no rain was falling.  Within half an hour of our departure, however, the heavens opened up and we were all instantly soaked. Fortunately, I had a rain jacket with me which, though it kept me dry, is made of PVC and doesn’t breathe, so I was soon covered in sweat instead of rain.  It became clear that the rain wasn’t going to abate anytime soon, and I started fretting about hypothermia and other neurotic concerns.  The ride itself was fast--averaging well over 18 MPH over slightly rolling terrain on beautiful back roads.



I Rebel

Written on 09/02 at 07:28 PM by Andy Posner 0 comments

Filed under: poetry

I Rebel

I rebel against the part of myself
That is a part of you; the unity that
Constrains me with rebellion.

I recoil from cigarette smoke, from windows.
I drop my leaves with a charred refusal:
I rebel against rebelling and negate myself.

I recede from owls, from lawnmowers.
I am the fallen blade, the morning that wouldn’t rise.
Who would manicure the invisible?

I excuse myself, excuse you, excuse the world.
I leave the table of chatter and curse the noise.
My thoughts irritate me: the horizon hurts.

Today calls me to tomorrow and I am nowhere to be found.
I was lost when the centuries were shipped, and sank.
I sleep with antiquities: jewels, wars, spices, crates, the dead.

Somehow I salvaged myself, or a part of myself,
The part that is you.  My eyes blink tears of recognition,
And sting like a bee’s final rejection of injustice.

Monday, May 19th, 2003



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