My professors warned me about something in design school. They said, "When you leave here, you will never look at the world in the same way. You'll go out to dinner and critique the typography on the menu." Check. "You'll appreciate sharply-executed airport signage." Check. "You might even rent a movie just because you heard the titles were well done." Yep.
I'm accustomed to living with this inconvenience, and to not voicing it in polite company ("Sweet Jesus, nice typeface on this graduation announcement. Is this a funeral or a party? Oh, uh... right. Your cousin is graduating. That's great, sweetie. Really great.").
Well, it's happening again in a new, unexpected way. At my daughter's school, on the drive to work. Hell, anywhere there's some combination of grass, dirt, pavement, and hills within view. Everything is a cyclocross course.
I've got it figured out at Summit Elementary... asphalt, turf, off-camber turns. Geez, there's even a great runup on the back playground with old telephone poles half-embedded in the hillside for barriers. And an opportunity for "big air" heading down onto the basketball court. Yeah... people could definitely heckle from that spot.
Everything is a cyclocross course. I'm an amateur surveyor (minus the orange vest and tiny telescope), having fun pounding in stakes and running imaginary yellow tape all over the place. It's good to find new ways to look at the world.