A Hard Habit To Make.
I just can't get into a rhythm.
The way the rain and sun have been alternating recently really have thrown me for a loop. My riding habits are the disjointed cycling equivalent of a white guy trying to dance to a song in 7/8 time. After a few jerky movements, I just rock back and forth and bob my head so hopefully nobody notices that I'm not up to the task at hand.
I work in a building that has no windows. If I want to know how the weather is outside, I have to look at the security cameras, ask someone who just came in, or venture out myself. If I ask someone else, their opinion of what "rain" is can vary widely.
When I hear, "it's raining", I immediately start to ache and look for excuses not to ride. Sometimes I suit up anyway and grimly shuffle out into the cold downpour. Other times I pack it in based on hearsay, leave the kit in the gym bag, and then stride out to meet clearing skies and drying roads. Then there are the days when I hear, "it's a beautiful day", know I should rush out to take full advantage of it, but somehow still fall back on excuses.
The start-stop nature of my riding is killing me. A cold, rainy ride can knot my back up for days. An over-reaching "long" ride on a nice day can wear my fragile fitness down to the bone. A bad night's sleep can knock me off the wagon, as can a stressful day at work. Dropping off or picking up the kids from school on an odd day can put the kibosh on any riding. Cycling just isn't firmly wedged into an immovable slot on my schedule just yet, so it's easily preempted by something else.
I'll get there. Slowly. If I can string together a couple "good", it will likely all come back.
The way the rain and sun have been alternating recently really have thrown me for a loop. My riding habits are the disjointed cycling equivalent of a white guy trying to dance to a song in 7/8 time. After a few jerky movements, I just rock back and forth and bob my head so hopefully nobody notices that I'm not up to the task at hand.
I work in a building that has no windows. If I want to know how the weather is outside, I have to look at the security cameras, ask someone who just came in, or venture out myself. If I ask someone else, their opinion of what "rain" is can vary widely.
When I hear, "it's raining", I immediately start to ache and look for excuses not to ride. Sometimes I suit up anyway and grimly shuffle out into the cold downpour. Other times I pack it in based on hearsay, leave the kit in the gym bag, and then stride out to meet clearing skies and drying roads. Then there are the days when I hear, "it's a beautiful day", know I should rush out to take full advantage of it, but somehow still fall back on excuses.
The start-stop nature of my riding is killing me. A cold, rainy ride can knot my back up for days. An over-reaching "long" ride on a nice day can wear my fragile fitness down to the bone. A bad night's sleep can knock me off the wagon, as can a stressful day at work. Dropping off or picking up the kids from school on an odd day can put the kibosh on any riding. Cycling just isn't firmly wedged into an immovable slot on my schedule just yet, so it's easily preempted by something else.
I'll get there. Slowly. If I can string together a couple "good", it will likely all come back.
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