I want the quiet of the woods more than the quiet in my head.
Listen to the noise too long and you start to believe in it.
You listen to the shit and then it gets too loud, superlatives aside
Be out and believe, it can't rain all the time.


Friday only not so much

I felt it yesterday, it wasn't the wind or the bike moving around under me or the too warm day outside of Denver, it was more the feeling I had in my legs, the feeling that I had too many days with skis and not enough with pedals. Tightness where there shouldn't be and short lived efforts that usually are longer. Maybe this is all a product of a 200 inch winter and a long list of XC skiing days coupled with a short list of rides. I know it's late January but I like the work, maybe I need more of the work with wheels and less of the pleasant and mind soothing sliding thru the woods on skis.
The wind was just right, no leaning into the cross wind to keep from getting knocked over, usually what a warm winter day holds, Finishing with a 7 mile climb and a mind quieting descent to the car was better than Prozac. I think.


Woods at night

Today the push was more about the loss than the gain. Inside my head I argued with the trees, the sounds, & the shadows, knowing I was only paranoid just to kid myself into thinking I wasn't going to get eaten, clubbed or speared. Sliding across the snow I argued with myself.  Forced my effort and made it through. Opening windows, turning up my headphones to not hear what isn't there.



I want to have new ideas, young thoughts, let them grow and mature, kids now to grow into adults later. Whether they be articles not yet written on prose not yet laid out. For whatever reason the well has gone dry. I know there is more warmth in thought and more food in ideas. I just need to find it. Keep with me, I have it somewhere in the head, it's just that that door is closed right now, I need to find my keys. Or, pick my locks and get in the kitchen, cooking up fresh thoughts while burning off the shit I don't need crowding out the goodness to see the light of day.



More clear that the vision is, and less voice behind the wind has the winter work progressing.
Trying to trade, bargain, the way in a second you lie to yourself mid race that if the body allows another few minutes of pain you'll be extra nice and give a rest, not do 3 hours and eat a half peanut butter sandwich, hydrate in favor of refueling. All of the white lies we tell inside our head, too many to list, to embarrassing to own up to. All of them in line waiting for the reward they were promised.