As I drive to Crested Butte, Colorado, a seven-hour drive, the sun drops but my thermometer still registers 93. For some aspens on the hills, summer green has already drained to yellow. While still hot, the air is thin, asexual, inert, after the fecund spring and summer. Fall is coming. I’m headed back to training, and to the World Off-Road Hancycling Championships over Labor Day weekend.

It’s been an interesting week, which saw me depart Crested Butte after cracking the frame on my climbing vehicle. I trained on the road in my racing chair, drove eight hours round trip to get another vehicle up and running, which unfortunately, didn’t work out, but now I’m back and the climbing rig is repaired. Not only will I train, but I’ll also compete in the Championships.

I’ve never competed on a handcycle. In fact, I haven’t seen another off-road handcyclist in years, throughout which my times have dropped consistently, but that’s an isolated perspective. I look forward to seeing and learning from the others. There’s also a bit of nervousness. This is competition after all. Even though I really only have one speed—found from hours long climbs—I’m a competitor, and as such I wonder if I’ll be faster or slower.

I know that I’m significantly faster in my four-wheeler than I am in the three-wheeler, which all of the other competitors will use. I see the competition as a proof of vehicle more than anything. If I’m faster, it means that I will have a better chance on Kili—one more positive sign. Plus, competition will push me to ratchet a little more from my one speed. Maybe I’ll breakthrough to something a little faster. After an eventful week of broken equipment and too much driving I’ll see if I have really come as far as I thought. The ripe summer drains into the yellow leaved fall, yet I wonder if I’m just starting to grow?