The Draft

When the thoughts of a "draft" come to mind, the mind often thinks of that old window where the seal is cracked. Perhaps you might think of the door that no longer tightly closes. For me, the word "draft" use to relate to the old farm house I lived in. The Lake Champlain Islands boasted a wonderland of rural pastures, rolling dirt roads, apple orchards, vineyards, and small town charm. The Champlain islands were also my home, and I resided in an 1890 farm house.

The islands are also home to "breezes", or in my language.. "wind gusts".

The Islands are situated in the middle of Lake Champlain. The waters to the right are towards the Vermont shores with phenomenal views of the Green Mountains. The waters to the left lapped up to Upper State New York shores. The little islands are nestled in the middle of two mountain ranges.. thus the "draft" that was felt while making breakfast in my kitchen, sitting in my living room, laying in bed... or just walking through the house....

"Draft" became a funny word that just meant "normalcy" while living in this beautiful old five bedroom farm house... It also meant... "Crap, here is another heating bill...".

As one who adores cycling, I have loved riding Vermont roads. The terrain is far from flat, and each turn provides a challenge. Over the last year and a half, I have had the joy of rekindling with my high school sweet heart. He is a six foot five mountain biker (gone road biker) from Colorado. He effortlessly pedals at high speeds, and "hill climbs" are far too easy. He resembles Kermit the frog from behind while cycling, (A hot Kermie).

Today, I had the joy of "drafting" Kermit, a new thing I have learned to not be afraid of while cycling. You know the feeling when your car gets in the "draft" of a tractor trailer truck? My little Toyota gets sucked right in...

Well, the same draft happens when a 120 pound woman on a carbon fiber bike rides behind a 205 pound man that is 6 foot five. I enjoy drafting, the feeling that my legs get when I fall behind at close proximity to his wheel and get sucked uphill.

Upon finishing a road ride today, we got off our bikes and he asked how I liked it.. to which I replied.. "drafts rock"...

I know longer live in that old 1890 farm house.. and I hope I never know the word "draft" on quite that same level... For now, I am pretty happy for the "draft" of My Kermie.