Memorial Aches

Warm air was filtering down the coast as I was making my way towards the canyons this morning. The sounds and smells of the ocean hanging in the air. It was a rich, almost magical, environment. And when the sun started to break I found myself feeling like summer was finally hitting Los Angeles. When it’s seventy degrees out with clear skies and it’s only eight a.m. you know you’re going to enjoy the ride.

Today was fantastic. It was smooth and easy going, a long ambling trek to nowhere in particular. It was also everything yesterday wasn’t. Today wasn’t about speed or performance, but rather just simply passion. The emotion of just being outside on a wonderfully clean day and enjoying the occasion. The sights and feelings that the coast offered were to luxurious and to energetic to simply blast by and watch from a mirror. They needed to be taken in head-on, examined and then finally cherished. It was the kind of immersion that only happens when you dial it down and just exist.

Of course I suppose I was predisposed to slow it all down a bit since this morning I found myself still feeling the after effects of yesterday’s mega ride. The day after you’ve ridden a lengthy trip on a Ducati never quite unfolds as easily as you’d like it to. Today was no exception even though it was the perfect day to keep going and the perfect moment to soak in – yet physically it was a monumental task just to get on the bike again. Soreness seems to run hand-in-hand with riding a Duc.

Every now and then there are times when I feel haunted by the fact that for brief periods of time I can sometimes find myself feeling older than I actually am. It seems the process of aging is finally beginning to catch up with me on some level. For years I’ve actively tried to ‘grow up’ fast or perhaps faster than I should have. First it was rushing forward in order to get a license, then a race to become old enough to legally buy beer and later the quest transformed into a desire to get a move on with life. But now that all of those young adult milestones have been reached and passed, I find the craving to ‘grow up’ waning. These days I’d rather just enjoy this particular part of life.

Oddly the quest to ride a 999 seems to echo both the desire to move forward at a rapid pace and also the wish to stay right where you are once you get there. It’s a bit of a conundrum no doubt. The bike is both positively youthful when in motion and yet also accelerates the aches and pain once you’re done. Aches and pains I never thought I’d ever feel. As I’ve gotten to know the bike in and out, I’ve come to realize that the day after a long ride on the 9 is never quite as easy of a rebound as I think it should be. Last night I went to bed with visions of yet another spectacularly long adventure. Today I woke up feeling somewhere between sore and exhausted. Thankfully I suppose youthful ignorance never quite leaves you alone. Now that I’m back home again, my wrists are hurting, my knees feel weak and my lower back is definitely got some new kinks in it, but I wouldn’t trade these sensations for anything. They tell the physical tale of two blissful days of riding. Perhaps one day I’ll discover a way to mitigate these sorts of ailments – but today I’d rather bask in the glory of another perfect yet different ride.