It sort of snuck up on us, but we should have known it was coming. Maybe it was after a certain number of laps passed by, or perhaps it happened in the space between two turns. Whatever the case, the flow state was always going to appear.
How could it not?
With the number of laps we ride accumulating quickly and our muscles making memory of all the shapes of the
mountain. The flow state was certain to be seen, as we learned the language of the mountain - the tone with which each corner talks, the slang to every flowered singletrack, and the accents of all the new features that are shining bright amongst the legendary lines that have lived in these mountains as long as we’ve known them.
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