Obsessive.

It's a pattern I fall into every time.

The smallest acquisition will inevitably lead to a deep dive into the intricacies of a particular subject that will become all-consuming until I invariably and quite abruptly lose interest, casting aside the thing that once so entranced me. Then it sits on a pile until I either rekindle the spark or pass it (and all of the other things that I acquired to go with it) off to someone else- usually at a significant financial loss.

I try not to. I tell myself I won't. I strive to talk myself out of it. I distract myself in countless ways ("look at the bunny!"). 

I still do it. It's sorta baked into my character.

Right now I'm looking at my bikes again. It's one of the starkest examples of the aftermath of that sudden loss of interest.

My garage is a mess, which isn't unusual. My garage is not someplace to park a car, because the dual doors make it impossible to park in the middle. Depending on which side you park in, either the passenger or driver will not be able to open their door. A midsize car will barely fit lengthwise. Simply put, it's a shop/storage area. That really doesn't bother me, and I've piled up decades of discarded passions within its walls and parked the cars outside.

A third of my garage is taken up by the plywood and 2x4 partition that comprises my trainer dungeon. No matter how many shop lights I install in there, it always gives off a very dark vibe. It kinda suits the theme. Cabinets, shelves, and workbenches line the walls. There was a time where it was meticulously organized. Parts were cleaned and lovingly put away for the next project. Tools were displayed neatly on the pegboard for easy access. The TV and sound system were clean and primed for me to crank away the hours on the trainer. It was a place I loved spending time. Among the chaos and disorder of the house and the rest of the garage, it was the one place that felt under control.

A few years back, after a couple exhausting months at a radar site, I came back to find a large pile of expensive bikes, skis, and boxes unceremoniously thrown into the formerly pristine space. My now-ex wife had the boys take every bike, ski, and associated item and carefully interlock them in such a way that disassembly would almost assuredly break something of value. She didn't say a word, but she was trying to say something.

Up until that point, I had maintained my training and riding routine when I came home from the radar sites. I would ride the trainer while away and, if possible, take to the roads when I got home. It wasn't ideal, but I was able to retain some sort of fitness.

This time I just didn't have the energy. Eventually I dug out a bike to ride or cleared just enough space to use the trainer, but it still was a mess. I rode, both on the trainer and the road, significantly less. Parts intermingled in random boxes. Tools migrated to other areas or were lost. Navigating the small confines of the dungeon around all of the debris of my cycling life risked serious injury. Eventually I didn't ride at all when I returned. I'd build and re-build some sort of fitness base for months on the trainer at the sites, then do nothing at home.

Wow. That's a bummer.

Fast-forward a little bit. Over the last year or so I have been fitfully trying to get into some sort of routine. Not the all-consuming, race-fit routine I once had, but a "gee, I would really like to ride my bike more than an hour without going into a coma" routine. My Training Peaks charts (why do I still pay for that?) look like the Alps. Craggy, uneven climbs towards a peak and then breathtaking drops into an abyss of sloth. Then I start again.

As spring has finally begrudgingly arrived in Alaska, I have watched the riders on the roads enviously from the confines of my car. Granted, some days I was glad to have a heater, but overall I miss being out there and feeling that Zen-like sensation of pedaling. To be out experiencing the real world with all of its variability. Certainly beats a computer-generated world and the predictability of a bike trainer. A couple bike rides outside under my belt, and I am acutely aware of just how far I have fallen. Gotta start somewhere.

The gravel bike is in the shop because I really don't want to deal with hydraulic discs, so that opened up a little space in the dungeon. To get it out the door I rummaged through all of the parts I had squirreled away (why do I have five of those?) and bolted together a bike the shop can finish off. It will still need work when it gets back, but maybe by then I can make more room in the dungeon for it. After a spectacular weekend of sun, this week has been steady rain. This bike with some really big fenders would be much better than most for the cracked wasteland our roads have become- especially on rainy days where you're too miserable to scan the surface for hazards. Tubeless so that fixing flats on the side of the road is less of a possibility. It probably won't be the fastest ride, but at least it will be moving instead of squishing about in soaked cycling kit looking for the leak. That's the plan.

I am hoping to get a couple hours in the dungeon to clean up a bit. Stow away some of those parts. Maybe put together a big box to take to the local bike cooperative. Like all hoarders, I have a lot of "really good stuff" I no longer need and don't have the energy to sell. Hopefully someone can use it. I need to downsize. Maybe lose a bike or three. Clean house. Marie Kondo this shit so I don't break an ankle walking to the trainer.

And yet, I am obsessive. The other day I bought a fatbike, a 2009 Fatback aluminum model. I saw it listed for cheap on Facebook Marketplace, and within an hour it was in the back of my car. Granted, it was for the wonderful woman I am dating so we can ride together, but I still did my customary completely excessive deep dive into specs and potential upgrades. I eventually had to come up for air, because I don't know how much we are actually going to ride and the bike is pretty great as it is, but the urge is still there. That's good in a way, because that spark tells me I still have the interest. If I have the interest, I am more likely to sustain the activity. Cycling is an activity that brought a lot of positives to my life. Life may have taken a turn or forty since I was riding with any intent, but cycling is still a net positive. If I can share that with someone else, maybe we can be crazy together.

But first, let's get that little room back in order. Maybe move onto the garage. Then the downstairs. Decrease my footprint on this earth just a little bit at a time and spread some of that "good stuff" around. I don't need all of it.

Well, maybe just the really good stuff.