Here, on the road, all over, I’m a slacker.
I love riding. I love racing. I love the thrill of the chase. And yet, I haven’t ridden. I’ve logged about 1200 miles this year, and the year is almost half over. It’s pathetic. I set out with goals, a ton of racing, a ton of riding, and yet I just don’t get out of bed to do it.
March was screwed up because of my broken wrist. And the wrist isn’t better, and maybe that’s part of the problem, that I don’t want to screw it up any further. Maybe I hate taping it in the morning, it’s annoying, it’s one more time consuming step that keeps me from getting out the door. Maybe it’s the weather, and that I don’t want to ride when it’s raining, and it’s been raining this week. Maybe it’s my wife, who’s pregnant with our first child, laying in bed, silently beckoning for me to come back and hold her, my hand on her belly, to bond with the baby.
Maybe I’m just burned out, and I don’t have it in me to get the miles in this year. Maybe I’m fulfilling the prophecy that I’m not going to ride once the baby comes, so I might as well give up now. Maybe it’s that, at the end of the day, racing costs a lot of money and I don’t have the time or money to commit to the travel and pursuit of $10 primes — there’s no cash prizes in Cat 5 races, after all.
Why do we do this? Marze hasn’t raced in a while, but he still loves the ride, and he still gets out and hammers on everyone, lately on a single speed to put us all to shame. I love the thrill of racing, the adrenaline, it’s addictive, but I’ve spent the last two years working toward something that, let’s be real, is never going to be a realistic pursuit. I’ve worked my ass off to hang onto the Cat 5 races that I’ve done, and okay, I can hang now, I couldn’t hang a few years ago. But the amount of time and effort it’s going to take to get to the front of that pack, shit, it’s just not likely to happen, and I can be real about that.
So why aren’t I riding? Why aren’t I going out and having fun and riding around? Have I fallen slave to the power meter? Is it a matter that, right now, I don’t have a training plan and I need to workouts to get myself up? I need the accountibility? Do I want to race? Am I putting my livelihood on the line when I’ve got responsibilities, when I have a baby coming who right now is the only thing on my mind? God, I don’t know.
I want to be fast. I want to have fun. Did it stop being fun, and when? I’m not sure. The alarm goes off every morning at 5am and I get up, every morning, and look out the window, and walk around the house, but I don’t get dressed, I don’t go riding.
And I don’t know why.