My love affair with the wind: I'm over it.

Years ago, I used to windsurf. When you rely on wind to propel you across a body of water, and those perfect days when consistent, steady wind gives you just the right amount of wind for the size sail you like to use, it's a thing to be enjoyed. Windsurfers are wind snobs. If you have just a few sails, the small ones are for screaming wind, the large ones are for the low-wind days, and hopefully you have a middle-sized one for decent wind days. I had one that fit that description. I can't remember the size or the color, but when conditions were right, I'd hop up on the board (or waterstart), position myself just right so the wind filled the sail, hook my harness straps to the boom, and take off. The wind was my friend.

I haven't windsurfed since about 1994, and sometimes I miss it. I used to stop in Stevenson or Hood River and just watch them scoot across the Columbia with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I just didn't have the money to support such an obsession. And believe me, it's an obsession, and an expensive one.

Not that cycling isn't. Just when you think you have your bike, your equipment and your clothing all dialed in, something new catches your eye and it's all you can think about. That lightweight carbon frame. That sassy 'cross bike. Those light, stiff-soled shoes that match your kit. That helmet that makes you look like you are going fast even when you're standing still. Those special lenses in the glasses that keep crud out of your eyes and make you look cool at the same time.

So, as a cyclist, I learn that wind is something to be endured, something to tolerate. We learn to draft, to ride in a paceline, or an echelon, and hope for a headwind early in the ride so we can enjoy a tailwind on the way back. Sometimes this doesn't happen the way we like. I've come to appreciate group riding so much that I rarely ride solo anymore, at least not lately.

So yesterday I'm battling down Evergreen, having passed people in my hurry to get back to Longbottom's and enjoy my bagel sandwich. I'm cruising along at a snappy 14mph, feeling like I'm standing still. I look down and see 13mph, and then as I approached Shute Road, a screaming 10mph. Good thing there was only one stoplight to go.

Sorry, wind - I'm over you. Can we just be friends? I want to stay on your good side.