Too much time open eyes,Clarity fades as the road,Rises to meet my tires.
The little pieces of pedal are getting bigger by the day, more and more time in the chamois has the head a lot more quiet. Sleep comes in welcomed chunks instead of bits. The pedals turn at a good pace and with the time sinks all around I manage my time.
Clearly racing and the time constraints it creates isn't for everyone. The more I prepare myself and get out and do the work the more I feel good about it. I know it's unlikely to make a dent in much of anything except for the bumper of that next car to pull out too fast as I roll by. I wouldn't know what to do if I didn't do it. I likely would stop sleeping all together, function in a sort of ether that consisted 20 minute naps and incessant nausea. Instead, I ride.
I'm afraid, everyday I see the fade coming, whether it's the car that passes too close or the cyclist coming the other way on the path, always wondering what's going to take me out next. Maybe it's more of a slow burn, slow to fade out, time expires and I'm left there, caught out, somewhere in the middle between the family, the bike and the job. making the best decisions with at least the first on the list. Touch the fade and it clears up, like an instant photo on an old Kodak. Slowly focusing and slowly becoming clear, what passes as crystal clear these days. They say a baby sees everything without a tint because new vision is the clearest, all these years I'm sure have fried mine, I can only see as clear as I can. It has to be enough.
The motivation is like a revolving door, always bringing in new air to mix with the stale stench of what didn't get done. The faster the door turns around the slower I seem to go. I need more time at my time, this whole getting up as the coyotes and fox go to sleep gets tough. Bed feels good even at 5 am in almost broad daylight. The door turns again. I wish the pedals turned over so easily.