Pigs in Zen
Pigs in the mud
When he tires
Pigs in Zen
Unashamed
Pigs in Zen
Pigs eat s#*t
But only when he hungers
Pigs in Zen
Pigs in Zen
I know about the pain
And the suffering and being cold
The pig is led to the slaughter
This he says is the price some pay
For the cycling (simple) life
That's proof for him
Pig's in Zen
Talkin' bout the pig
The pig
The pig
Pa-pa-pa-pa-pig
So, yes, I sampled an old Jane's Addiction lyrics. What's that got to do with cycling other than me substituting the word cycling in the later part of the song. Well blog readers, I will tell you.
There are a small group of riders that love the true grit of cycling in bad conditions. You know, winds, rain, sleet, hail, mud and other appalling conditions that keep most people at home on the couch watching a "Glee" marathon on the Oxygen Channel. I am a Pig in Zen kind of guy. I love the slop. Races like Tour of Flanders, Paris-Roubaix, and Gent-Wewelgem are my favorite races of the year to watch and follow. And yes, I have found fellow Pigs to surround myself with. One that suddenly who comes to mind is a man know in these parts as Dismount Dave. (A name that maybe explained at a later blog). Dismount can tell you who won any spring classic of any year and give you a quick run down of the race in a blink of cobblestone dust in your eye. He is a Pig in Zen.
Another person who comes to mind is JB. He a MR(morning ride) guy and when the wind kicks up on a ride, he immediately goes to the front and taps out a rhythm that most of those pesky climbers begin to whimper like a 5 year old who was told they were not getting any ice cream when they are at The Scoop. Brutal. Now that we are quickly approaching spring racing here in the Inland Northwest, I thought I would share an experience with you about me in a Pig in Zen moment.
It was Frozen Flatlands 2010. The Saturday road race. The conditions at the start was cool and windy. So far so good for Pigs. We rolled out of the mighty town of Cheney and crossed the railroad tracks on the outskirts of town and the officials car horn blares. The race begins. As usual a few sacrificial lambs jump and try to get away. The typical chase downs and attacks happen for the first 1/4 of the race. Just as we make a right turn towards Plaza, hail comes dumping out of the sky and accompanied with a nasty head wind. I move to the front part of the pack and notice about 10 other riders doing the same. Mud is flying all over the place. It's on our glasses, jerseys and in our gaping mouths trying to take in as much oxygen as our orifices that God has gifted us can get. From the back of the pack I hear the familiar whimper.
I look back after a couple of miles of to see the what the damage had been done from the Pigs in the front. Half of the group is gone. I look around at my fellow competitors and we all seem to have the same expression on our faces. Pigs in the mud, unashamed. Pigs in Zen. As the race progressed, we ran into another wind infested hail storm and once again, the pace picks up and I move to the front to shed those who may not like to eat the crap off my wheel. There are again other Pigs with the same idea. This goes on for the next 5 miles. I am starting to feel the affects of the 12-mile time trail that we did 3 hours ago. I feel the hunger knocks coming uninvited into my body. If I eat now it might show some weakness and someone might attack. I know the pain and the suffering very well. I have been there before. The 1 K sign appears and the pace slows down. I decide make a jump for it with 600 meters to go. I am the pig led to slaughter and with 50 meters to go the gap I had from my initial jump diminished rapidly. Like a nightmare in slow motion I helplessly watch my comrade pigs pass me. That is the price I pay for living the cycling life. That's proof for me that I am a Pig....Pig in Zen...talkin' bout the pig....pa-pa-pa-pig........
Rider 2
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