Touching Base.

I tracked down my best friend from high school. Took awhile, but we've been catching up on what's happened over the almost 30 years since we last saw each other. We used to be the center of a whole string of bands, but I guess our friendship was always based primarily on music. Once I stopped playing and we both moved away, well, we just lost touch.

Since I started playing again, I just figured I'd reach out. He played in a cover band that serviced the Northern Virginia yacht and golf set. Think Uptown Girl at the Catalina Wine Mixer. If you don't get that reference, we can't be friends. COVID kinda killed that, to a far greater degree than we experienced in Alaska. Sill, he never stopped playing, and I gotta give him credit for that.

I've lost touch with a lot of people over the years. I've never been one to have a wide social circle. My friends were always compartmentalized to specific activities or situations. Very rarely did the groups intermingle. Part of that was me keeping my military career and private life separate, and part of it...

Well, I guess I'm flawed like that.

It doesn't make my friends any less important to me, it's just I've never been one to have them out of a specific context. 

The rancid dumpster fire my life has been recently has highlighted the flaws in my approach to friendship. I don't have a lot of people I feel comfortable confiding in, outside of the narrow context they exist in. I haven't gone to the next level and bridged activities and everyday life, so I'm faced with sorting out stuff on my own without a sounding board, the way I've done it for the last 50 or so years with very few exceptions. The latest exception was the torch that set the dumpster ablaze, so now I'm singed in more than one way.

This trip I didn't bury myself on the bike like I usually do. I certainly didn't want to burn myself out before I hit pavement, like I've done the previous two years, but there's also the simple fact that the drive isn't there. I get on the trainer most days, do my thing, and then that's it. No drive to get better or faster or leaner or whatever. When I'm done, I'm done. I'll sit on the bed and plink on my guitar instead of doubling up workouts. I'll take naps. I'll do pretty much anything except touch my bike. 

I'm not sure what that means, but I'm sure when the urge strikes the bike will be there. It always is. An inanimate object isn't a friend, but it certainly can be there when you need it.