New-New Normal.

As my time at Cape Lisburne drew to a close, I rode less and less on the trainer. After three days of skipped workouts, I finally got on my last day before packing everything up. A casualty of too many days out in sub-zero temperatures, hanging in a harness off a roof catwalk reinforcing and  aligning a wind-battered satellite dish that is a difficult one even in more favorable conditions. It took its toll on my body, but I was determined to at least make it work better. I did, but there was a bill to pay afterwards.

I came home and so far have been successful at avoiding the bike. It's not hard if you don't make the effort. Actually, I wake up every morning and pet my dogs, telling them they are the bestest puppies in the whole wide world. Then I get the kids ready for school, drive them across town to drop them off, and run errands on my way home. Projects and other time killers eat up the hours I have before I pick the kids up. Then it's dinner and well... the day is shot. I'm sure I could squeeze something in there, but right now I'm finding my feet again.

I play a little guitar, work on them to make them play better, and try to learn something new as often as possible. As with bicycles, I now possess a luthiers collection of tools, with none of the skills to guide their use.

Yesterday I signed up for online dating. I met my last wife there 15 years ago, so I figured it was as good a place as any to start. I kept telling myself I wasn't ready, but the truth is I want to stop aching. I want to be able to pass the creamer in the dairy section and not feel a pang. I want to move forward.

I didn't ask for this new normal. At least, not consciously. However, it's the reality I'm faced with.

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tLpyklFEahs" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Luke Simpson

Image
A couple years ago I participated in a stage race and had the honor to meet Saul Raisin, the former professional cyclist that suffered a debilitating traumatic brain injury during a race in Europe. As I listened to him speak and later read his book about his recovery, I (probably like most people) had two thoughts:                 “What an inspiring story.” …and more callously,                 “Wow, sucked to be him.” The second thought was just a result of thinking it would never happen to me. If you run the odds, it just doesn’t factor into the threat matrix as prominently as teenage girls with cell phones or that sketchy Cat 5 on the brand-new Madone. Then I got my bell rung. I’ve seen my share of stars and cartoon tweety birds over the years, but this was the first time I was knocked unconscious and woke up in an ER. Another driver’s moment of inattention resulted in a totaled car and weeks of disorientation, speech delays, and random face plants. It didn’t occu
Read more

Narrowed Focus

OK, here's the fun part.   You're clinging to the wheel in front of you. Doing everything to stay in contact, because you know in the deepest parts of your soul that if a gap opens, you will never close it, and you will be adrift. That few inches of space is your whole purpose in life.   People wait their whole lives to see the scenery on either side of you, but you're too busy focusing on meaningless points up the road. You're hoping that by acknowledging them that they will somehow help you climb this hill. They don't, because they're inanimate objects like signposts and rocks. Selfish bastards.   You match cadence with the guy in front of you, promising yourself that every time their right foot comes down, your right foot will come down. That you won't stand unless they stand. That you will be every bit as strong as they are, even if you aren't.   The steady ache in your thighs keeps building. You know all you have to do to make it stop is to
Read more

Perhaps Where I need to Be.

  The last time I was in Biloxi was in November of 2016. I was recovering from a broken collar bone, but otherwise was relatively fit, lean, and getting fitter and leaner. Because I had nothing else to do and energy to burn, I rode a lot. It was wasted effort that translated into burnout during the trainer season, but I really didn't care. I hadn't been riding at all. A handful of road rides before the season ended. A couple fat bike rides when the trails near my house were packed well. Mostly I've hiked, cross-country skied, and sat on my fat ass. Primarily the latter. I knew I was going to be spending the month of February in Biloxi. I swore I was going to get back on the trainer in preparation, but I never did. I came in cold. I packed all sorts of warmers and raingear and stuff that I have yet to use.I forgot all sorts of tools. My tires were excessively worn and my tubes weren't in great shape either. I ended up buying new ones after a horrible first ride led to 4
Read more