A great unknown awaits the young men, bound by a common entity of steel, flesh and passion rolled together. Do they contemplate the future, or are they so encapsulated in the here and now that anything beyond the finish line seems like it could only be for old people? Have they any inkling which path they will take, or be guided towards? Maybe the only thing on their mind is just how badass their eyewear is.
What ambition burns within, do they believe they will be, or even seek to be, a cycling superstar; which of them knows it? Maybe ambition isn’t considered, not part of the equation. The simple act of pedalling a bicycle may remain one of joy, of freedom, or become a mistress so harsh that she is eventually despised, and thrown aside, banished to but a bitter memory of a time better forgotten. Who will be remembered, and who will even want to remember?
When a pastime becomes a job a certain element, that of detachment, is lost forever. Making your passion your profession is fraught with risk, and the balance of work/play becomes ever more critical to cultivating satisfaction within, lest you be eternally damned to harming the very thing once loved more than anything else. Keeping things Casually Deliberate is a failsafe, a safety net below the trapeze on which the real world swings precariously.
Stay passionate. Rock cool shit and ride your bike like it’s your lover. Everything will be alright.