Shielded by a layer of damp fog, the mountain's hillside hides the upcoming turn. Funneled by towers of emerald green, the path forward stretches out into the unknown. The ground underneath now mirrors that of the sky, my vision fading to bland shades of grey and white.
A crimson fireball drives up from underneath, welling up from my quadriceps and into the pit of my chest. I attempt to exhale. A fireball! I feel like I am breathing fire! But I want to go faster! The next turn arrives abruptly, from the depths of the morning mist. Wow! I am flying!
"One more turn, it flattens out here. Get aero and dig deep!" Throw for the line!
Since being back in Whistler I've been training up the Taluswood climb, which of course finishes at the same elevation as the finish of the Dave Murray Downhill, my childhood training grounds. You could say the finish line hasn't changed, I'm just tackling the mountain via a new route. What's more important, the finish line or the route you chose to find it?
"Stay hungry, Stay foolish" J. Baldwin @ WholeEarth Catalog 1974 via Steve Jobs.