The Joy of Tracklocross

My body vibrates; it is a glowing ball of energy, a truth to the world.

I have spent the day drawing lines on canvas; my tyre cuts through the earth; I’m carving, I’m sculpting, and the land is being shaped as I press down on the cranks. The faster and the faster I go, the faster I vibrate. The glow becomes brighter, bringing out shadows, illuminating the dark carves I have made through the planet.

As I ride, the shadows move like dancers, their fluid movements creating patterns of light and dark. They tell a story, a story as old as time, a story that I am both a part of and apart from. I watch them, entranced, feeling the rhythm of their dance, the ebb and flow of their movements. There is a grace to their dance, a beauty that is both haunting and mesmerising.

I think of the shadows of my own life, the moments of darkness that have shaped me, the trials and tribulations that have defined me. Each shadow is a lesson, a piece of the puzzle that is me. I have learned to embrace the shadows, to find beauty in the darkness, and to understand that the dark is not an absence of light but a presence of its own. It can only be seen by my glow, the glow that emanates and seeps from every pore of my being.

The dark lines carved into the ground are my sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the day. It is in the quiet of the dark lines that I find clarity, that the noise of the world fades away, leaving only the pure essence of being. I ride through this stillness, letting the night wash over me, cleansing me of the burdens of the day, leaving me renewed and refreshed.