. . . a few of my favorite things . . .

. . . the unbroken serenity before the morning training session-- actually tasting my coffee, listening to the sound of my breathing, and becoming part of the morning.

. . . the release that happens when the initial fatigue and soreness roll away and I find my rhythm on a tempo run.

. . . the cold air rushing to the bottom of my lungs as I summit Tennessee Pass--only to see the broad valley, the ranch, and the next snow capped range beyond.

. . . that first ten minutes in the office after showering off, when all is still quiet and the endorphins tell me everything is going to be OK.

. . . that point in a hard ride where I know, even at my slowest pace, I am less than an hour from the finish.

. . . the communion of toiling with a partner, hearing their breathing, encouraging each other just by your shared presence, borrowing rhythm and power from a friend, talking without words.

. . . having friends that don't want something professional from you, they simply want you.

. . . the "now-ness" of being and breathing in one single stroke at a time.

. . . seeing the moon and the morning fog that a sleeping city will miss.

. . . the whisper of tire and chain while flying over good, good road.

. . . feeling that honest fatigue at the end of the day, watching my daughter sleep, and listening to her breathe.

. . . the memory of holding her body in the palm of my hand and feeling life, that very first breath.

. . . cold, crisp water to break the heat, in my mouth, down my throat, over my head.

. . . the way you can taste cold beer on your tongue and even in your limbs after a long, hot ride.

. . . the sound of my wife's sleep in the 30 seconds before I rise to do it all again.