I hear him long before I see him, but more than curiosity, I search out this big Meatloaf look-alike with the beads, cowboy hat, pony tail, lab coat and purple skirt because I NEED him. I need him like I've needed no other man in my life. More accurately, I need the power he wields and I'm willing to walk awkwardly over 200 feet in my cycling shoes to get it.

He stands with an air of comfortable authority, legs slightly apart, shaking a rattling stick covered with long bandanas and curling ribbon, at the top of which sits the head of Jack Skellington (of Nightmare Before Christmas fame). Or maybe it's Jack's twin.

Riders pass and he asks who will be next; who needs the good energy. Embarrassed riders walk on by, ignorant ignorami that they are; but I—like the several other riders around me—I am a knowing knower, and what I know has needs. I go to him like a moth to a light. A smart, needy moth.

I stand before him, my arms outstretched, ready.

He begins rattling is great energy stick and rumbles from deep within his person,"MMMMMOOOOJJJOOOOOOOO!!!!"

This is the Mojo Man, and from what I understand, he's been with the ride for at least the last few years. Some riders get it—he's just sending them good vibes. Others riders don't, and think that it's all silly and embarrassing and mumbojumbo.

And to all of this I say: YESSSSSS. Yes. Yes and more yes.

It is highly likely that what the Mojo Man does is farcical. It is certainly silly. And different. It is also very real, this transference of energy, in ways I can't completely comprehend. But I'll try to sum it up simply: Energy begets energy.

It's like a snowball rolling downhill, that slowly becomes a roaring avalanche and overtakes the hills below.

It's how we were able to ride almost 80 miles, then hop on the bike the next day and pump out another 105. And then hop on today and do another 75. The more energy we put out, the more energy we are able to put out. It goes out and yet still somehow builds within. Maybe we're sending it out to each other, each of us, our small droplets of energy, and they have a ripple effect onto our fellow riders.

Another example: Today was the biggest climb so far, known as the Quad Buster. This rat bastard of a climb covers roughly 1,500 vertical feet in just under 1 mile. There are no switchbacks. We saw the entire beast as it lay before us, and it was uuuuuugly. And so we did all we could do: We pedaled. And pedaled. And cursed and focused and sweated, and pedaled some more. And then the most amazing thing happened: About 2/3 of the way up, we heard screaming and music and cars honking. Cheering. Happiness. This great wave of energy was roiling from above, building as we neared, urging us on, pulling us up.

The whole mood suddenly felt… different. Not easier—just…less hard. I took it in, all of it, the music, the cheering, all those good vibes; I took it all in like oxygen. And I made it to the top, no stopping.

SIDE NOTE: The downhill side flippin' rocked.

And this, gentle reader, this is why I seek out the Mojo Man. This is why, when he offers is booming luck, his good vibes, his good and great mojo, why I drink it in like Gatorade. Because I feel somehow different. Better.

Sated, I head out, and ride in the face of brilliant 95 degree day with the same amount of care and a little more energy.

I got the good mojo on me, baby. That's what it's all about.