Choices.
I spent Christmas in the middle of nowhere. About 350 miles southwest of Fairbanks, smack dab in the middle of a whole lot of nothing. It was -24F outside, and I was recovering from a bout of food poisoning (or something like that). I was separated from my family for a second consecutive Christmas. It's pretty much the darkest time of the year. It would be easy to get depressed in such a situation, so it's fortunate that I'm emotionally stunted. Basically my range consists solely of anger and apathy, and given that I chose to be here (got to pay for bike parts somehow), my go-to (anger) just doesn't seem appropriate in this case. I chose this. I make a choice every time I drag myself out of bed early in the morning to get on the trainer. My justifications for the decision may be weak, but it's my choice . A couple of my friends were riding in Laos with Rebecca Rusch, and I was reminded that choice is too often a luxury. In this case, unexploded ...