The grey dusk sky was interrupted in intervals of human silhouettes, one after another forced into the negative space. The orange glow of small fire’s illuminated  the hillside in an ever changing pattern while the crush of thousands adorned in black moved with the force of a swelling river to the soundtrack of the apocalypse. My 14 year old eyes glazed with fear and amazement at the complete and total chaos as the sky rained sod, funnel cake and pizza toppings. Continue reading “The Big Picture: 2017 U.S. Cyclocross Nationals, The Coming Storm”