Dazed

It was one of those moments. You know the ones. Those rare combinations of circumstance and luck. Right place and right time. Corner of good karma and ethereal drama. All planets in proper alignment and snake eyes on the come. Still with me?

As I sit and enjoy a post event meal of rice (spanish), beans (negro), kale (young), avocado (expensive) and beer (Stone Ripper IPA), I can tell you that (with 58% remaining laptop battery power) that this serendipitous lightening bolt of cosmic connectivity has nailed my ass to the holy wall of higher consciousness several times. A sampling would have to include, roughly:

The six times I have fallen in love.
Five incredibly awesome moments on a field of play (mostly baseball or football).
Four as I played music.
Three as I was in an audience (where others were playing music).
Two while under the influence.
And once today.

Let's talk about today. No, let's summarize today. In one sentence from one moment.

(But first) the back-story. Those of you following along will know that I am in Sacramento, CA for the final stage of the 2018 Tour of California. I have been here before. One shot in my ToC 'top ten' will always be the peloton in forefront of the California State Capitol. In slow motion, sped up or at actual speed it never fails. Again today I set up for the ToC money shot, this time with two cameras, the trusty Go-Pro below and the zoomable Canon Vixia, atop a monopod, above.

The Ladies are doing a circuit and I have a chance to add some live racing action to the tour cache. They are hauling ass, and I am able (I think) to capture some decent footage. I am, however, struggling with the number one rule of 'on the fly' race videography. NEVER RUN OUT OF BATTERY POWER.

I need to manage my shoots to make sure I have enough power to capture some of the men who will be roaring through about 30 minutes after the gals. (now down to 44% power).

I mean even my cheap Samsung phone is operating on low octane karma.

All I have left is the Go-Pro, a fixed, fisheye lens absolutely worthless to capture subjects too far away. Get to the spot. Get the shot. And hurry.

I run across the Capitol lawn, no doubt irritating the two snipers atop the cupola, and get to 'my spot' just as the Highway Patrol lead convoy, sirens tearing into the calm like a fire alarm, turns the corner 200 meters to my left.  I 'negotiate' a position as close as possible, hit the record button, and hold my breath, a technique I learned from a pro several years ago.  (31% power).

The Men's Pro peloton comes past me on the first of three finishing laps like a heard of buffalo late for dinner. The lead Colombians look like cocktail napkins with Mercury 500 outboards strapped on.

And then it hits.

The pack pushes past at speeds I take to be 35mph+.

I am trying to hold the cam steady as they fly by. THIS IS IT. They pass. I get the shot.

And almost instantly a cloud of vortex dust follows their propulsion and almost blows us back ten feet. The air pressure slipstream of their effort has left a powerful reminder of things past. It is a remembrance into the importance of the now. They are gone. They were here for such a brief moment. The made their statement and moved to another dimension, leaving us with a cloud of organic exhaust as memory. 

My camera beeps.

We are out of gas. No more. Power spent.

I walk back to the car.

Dazed.