Another Life.
I haven't ridden my bike in over a month.
My life is dominated by this fucking travel trailer. Every day I do some amount of work on it, usually spending 4-14 hours a day. I want it gone, but I committed to the project. I'm stuck in the worst possible way, so I have no choice but to put my head down and try to see it through.
There was a double-header TT/road race at Point Mackenzie I missed because I was working on the camper. The Tour of Anchorage starts in less than two weeks. For the third year straight, I will not be riding it. The Spring Stage Race was the end of my racing season. Over before it started.
I constantly ache. Not that good sort of ache from a block of training or a long, hard ride, but rather the ache of too many hours with power tools and hammers. My back stiffens up from the constant up and down required by construction. The joints in my fingers and arms won't flex some days. My hands are a mass of cuts and abrasions. I'm destroying myself.
I wish it was for a good cause, but in my heart I know the end product will be a disappointment. Maybe not to the person who owns it, but to me. I keep telling myself I'm doing the best I can given the circumstances, but I'm not happy. All I see is a string of sub-par efforts and compromises adding up to a large pile of shit.
I want it gone.
I want my life back.
I want to ride my bike again. Maybe even race.
I pass riders driving to work or to Lowe's for yet more crap to screw into the heap, and I'm beyond envying them. I'm into the resignation stage. There's nothing I can do but press on.
In about two weeks I won't have to work on the camper. I will be able to ride my bike. I'm vising the folks for a couple weeks in Virginia, and will ride the Blue Ridge Parkway as much as I can stand. Since I'm fat and out of shape (I'm not kidding on either point), I probably won't be able to stand much. I will try, though, because this is my only chance to ride. When the trip is over, it's back to the grind.
A month after I get back, I retire from the Air Force. After 26 years of being institutionalized, I'm going to start a new career. This new career will involve a lot of being away from home and away from my bikes, at least for the first couple years. So, my bike racing career is probably dead for a while. Maybe it will never come back to life. Things change.
This is not how I wanted it to happen. A couple years marred by crashes and injury, followed by weight gain, performance drops, and no riding. I used to wonder how people could just walk away from something as awesome as road racing. I'm starting to understand. Things change.
So, I think I'm going to end this here, with a broken whimper. Life just got in the way, and I can't see it stepping aside anytime soon. I have a new life in front of me, and until I get a handle on what that entails, I guess I'm done with racing and blogging and blogging about racing.
We'll see how this next life pans out.
My life is dominated by this fucking travel trailer. Every day I do some amount of work on it, usually spending 4-14 hours a day. I want it gone, but I committed to the project. I'm stuck in the worst possible way, so I have no choice but to put my head down and try to see it through.
There was a double-header TT/road race at Point Mackenzie I missed because I was working on the camper. The Tour of Anchorage starts in less than two weeks. For the third year straight, I will not be riding it. The Spring Stage Race was the end of my racing season. Over before it started.
I constantly ache. Not that good sort of ache from a block of training or a long, hard ride, but rather the ache of too many hours with power tools and hammers. My back stiffens up from the constant up and down required by construction. The joints in my fingers and arms won't flex some days. My hands are a mass of cuts and abrasions. I'm destroying myself.
I wish it was for a good cause, but in my heart I know the end product will be a disappointment. Maybe not to the person who owns it, but to me. I keep telling myself I'm doing the best I can given the circumstances, but I'm not happy. All I see is a string of sub-par efforts and compromises adding up to a large pile of shit.
I want it gone.
I want my life back.
I want to ride my bike again. Maybe even race.
I pass riders driving to work or to Lowe's for yet more crap to screw into the heap, and I'm beyond envying them. I'm into the resignation stage. There's nothing I can do but press on.
In about two weeks I won't have to work on the camper. I will be able to ride my bike. I'm vising the folks for a couple weeks in Virginia, and will ride the Blue Ridge Parkway as much as I can stand. Since I'm fat and out of shape (I'm not kidding on either point), I probably won't be able to stand much. I will try, though, because this is my only chance to ride. When the trip is over, it's back to the grind.
A month after I get back, I retire from the Air Force. After 26 years of being institutionalized, I'm going to start a new career. This new career will involve a lot of being away from home and away from my bikes, at least for the first couple years. So, my bike racing career is probably dead for a while. Maybe it will never come back to life. Things change.
This is not how I wanted it to happen. A couple years marred by crashes and injury, followed by weight gain, performance drops, and no riding. I used to wonder how people could just walk away from something as awesome as road racing. I'm starting to understand. Things change.
So, I think I'm going to end this here, with a broken whimper. Life just got in the way, and I can't see it stepping aside anytime soon. I have a new life in front of me, and until I get a handle on what that entails, I guess I'm done with racing and blogging and blogging about racing.
We'll see how this next life pans out.
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