Like losing more than myself, pushing thru the boundaries, real and imagined.
Guilt is easier than success, it brings more good work.
If it were easy the guilt would evaporate, I like that it doesn't.
A random thought I had a while ago 'self loathing is a better training tool than an SRM.'
Pleased, insofar as a candid snapshot mid stream, not quite able to touch either side,
But in the middle I swim.



For all of my life, especially as a kid I had want, whether birthdays or Xmas, I wanted. Silly, materialistic, things I had no business desiring. Perhaps that's why as an adult (read-parent) I have had to come around to liking the holidays/birthdays, no kid wants a curmudgeon for a father, baby steps. Not that I was alone in wanting- I just never quite managed my expectations, something as an adult I have become quite adept at accomplishing. Presents or less concrete, ethereal goals were commonplace. Now, as I place more of my life in the past than the future I want time. Time, to climb passes I cannot pronounce so well. Time to have the fortitude to ride too far and come home shattered. Limping in on fumes, so blown food is an after thought. Chipping away at the pile of stuff that becomes more of who we are than who we are is cathartic and cleansing. Personal space in a shrinking world.


New leaf

Trying to push thru what is left of the cross season and get thru the holidays has me coming to terms with the fact that - though I may try otherwise- I am at best a club cyclist. Diminished returns, unrequited lust for bigger races and better results has left a mark on my season. I know now that I do need better rubber for certain heavier days and the preparation will begin sooner in 2011. Also looking ahead while looking over my shoulder has me setting unrelated to CX goals. I think the idea of a century a month will get me out for some real base work thru September, that'll be 9 of them before the first CX race. The Rapha crew's Festive 500 inspired this idea. Trying to get in 500km (310 miles) at 9800 ft in a ski town over Xmas week is not only unrealistic it borders on suicidal. Between altitude sickness addled Texans and txting teens my ass would certainly not make it to the new year alive. Instead I'll try to do a festive 310 mi on my own schedule before January 15. Start the year off right!
I guess on some level the fact that I am putting this out to all 4 of you that read my drivel has me thinking I may follow thru on this one. It might suck but isn't that the idea? Cross is about done so how else to suffer than in the wind and motor-wash of winter. Expect more crappy reporting on my efforts to get it done. I figure the first 3 months will be the hardest, after that slightly easier.



I'm off the teeter totter and on the merry go round, you know the one, around in circles and you don't get anywhere. That's what it's like, a little bit "Groundhog Day" and a little bit Sisyphus. Trying to be happy about the holidays while looking ahead. Always ahead, but savor the now all the while.



Riding around pretty much aimless with maybe 2 landmarks I could use to get me back before I was deemed missing. Not that I was going to be missed, that's different. I knew of a few high points with which to see how far off I was, then I could find my way to the central TV tower. And, from there the way back. All on a pre sunrise ride on a 3 speed early 80s era city commuter bike. I couldn't have asked for more.


Video is cool, good audio is great but good words go a long way.



Over your shoulder

He had been climbing trees since he was 3, nothing too high until mid elementary school but then it became a game. She hadn't walked around the woods too much aside from hiking with her father. Now into the their late 20s they both found themselves camping and enjoying what the other knew. He was afraid of the dark and she was afraid of heights. Together they went on overnight trips and conquered their fears. Nighttime was tough for him, at least she was there-to rub his back and tell him the forest was not going to cave in on him. The trees and heights stopped scaring her very soon, it gave them smiles to help the other get over childhood apprehensions.



There's nothing ideal about the situation as it stands only that it offers free time, free? Semantics aside I can't do anything about this other than look and see what else is out there. I'm happy when I walk in the door, home is tranquil and makes me smile, the time thing will be good in that I have plenty to do, plenty of projects to busy the head when the legs are recovering. But, legs are screaming to be pushed through to the spring. Wasted time is never coming back. Made time is good.