That Freetown ride

I was going to write it all up, but my hands are still tired, my brain is tired, my eyes aren't focusing as well as they could from the anxious anticipation keeping me awake saturday night and then the abject and total fatigue and aching that kept me from sleeping well last night.

The short story is I showed up. Was given a race plate with the number one on it. I saw friends, I lined up. I raced. or not really. I started with the racers, hung back.

It was broken up kind of like the Coast to Coast was. Three chapters. Each a lap. each chapter a twist. The last chapter was the most introspective and self dwelling. Past relationships bubbled up, thinking about past self, almost as a different person. But thinking. That's not good for the going fast.

But also only half thinking, most of the time just focusing on the rocks, or not focusing on them and looking for the flow over/around... mostly over. Brain was loving the analysis, body fucked up a few times and tricked brain into doing stupid shit but didn't totally lose it. Fortunately.

Eyes are tired, writing blind isn't the easiest. Not blind now but focusing is tough, kind of like it was at the end when i stopped drinking. it happens now when fatigue mounts up. Tired. indeed.

I almost got lapped, in a 3 lap race. But I didn't and I wound up on a podium. Alone, because I was the only one in my 'race' feels dirty, bad, to share and celebrate that part of the day. But the sense of accomplishment at completing the distance, at this particular event, was unmistakably huge. So I indulged.

Life's pretty strange. "Why did you start mountain biking?" was a question I got many times, most people know me as a Cyclocross guy or a ride his bike all day on crazy adventures. Few people knew me when i was a mountain biker.

I tried to keep it going on my old bikes when I moved back to New England, but the bikes I had were great for Michigan, not for New England.

Took until this year before I got a new 'modern' bike.

I've been over that a little.

What got me to ignore not being able to read these words perfectly (yeah maybe I'll get glasses soon - or use dynamic page zoom in the browser) was actually reading this:
https://theradavist.com/2019/09/ogichidaakwe-alexandera-houchins-reflections-on-her-tour-divide-race/

I feel about as far from a winner as possible. But I feel a significant sense of accomplishment. At the same time I feel a constant overwhelming sense of dread at the condition of the world, the country and all that. I feel torn in many ways. I also feel lost. I shouldn't, but I do. What dreams do I have, what goals have I ever had? I don't know. I'm where I am because I wound up here, fell into things that I'm pretty good at...  maybe it is because someone asked me what my dreams were recently.

Was the race transformative? Maybe a little? Am I ever going to be as fast as the little folk (you know, those lighter than 175#) probably not.

Deep introspection I guess. Thought a little about l'appel du vide - where did I read that? I thought maybe on AHTBM but can't find the link.

I will write up the race more properly. Perhaps tonight, i have to first conquer the apathetic ambiguity of what to make for dinner then carve out time alone perhaps with my feet up to go through the "race"

Life is not bad, it is pretty grand to be able to experience all these things, perhaps it is just the weight of the years piling up that's nagging at me now.

Time to try and distract myself with more intense work than this morning has been.

heddwch
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