Ah, a picture is worth a thous....er....at least three words, ain't it? Kind of ironic that the best picture of what I was thinking be plastered on bicycle, but the gut feeling I continue to fight is actually with the bicycle's cousin: the off-road motorcycle.
I shared (babbled, pondered - whatever the appropriate "blog-lingo") not too long ago my mild dilemma regarding having more 2-wheeled interests than I really have time to enjoy, and it's a theme that might be coming to a jumping off point: I'm afraid that one of these things just doesn't tickle the ol' fancy like the others...
After some time off my big, beautiful Orange girl, the first ride back was all kinds of fun just a few weeks ago. The second ride...? Eh, great company, but not quite the body-to-bike-by-throttle-hand connection I was hoping would follow up the first. Last weekend? Wasn't ready (or was just too pissy) to risk any bad moto-mojo, so, knobby never touched dirt. But then it was really time to start getting ready for the first harescramble (motorcycle speak for 2 hour off-road race) of 2012 and that's when the mixed messages started.
I'd been planning on this race for a while, looking forward to it, and the elbows and fitness both seemed to agree that I was ready if not more than ready. My plans hit an early stumbling block mid-week when the wife became worried that her work-week duties would likely over-flow into the weekend. "Hmmmm...", I thought, "...and a weekend I was really hoping to double-dip with some pedal-miles, too...??" Knowing the commitments of the leg-powered kind I'd already made for this year, I moved forward with the Saturday morning pedal-plan cuz 4 hours away from home & family is far easier to make work than the 9 hour day (plus pack & clean-up) that goes with a dirt-bike race.
That was the first (albeit mild) "sign" that I wasn't really into the moto-thing. The next couple signals weren't so mild, like, the fact that the later "all clear" from the wife somehow gave me more stress than relief. That was followed by a then-unrecognized resistance to commit to car-pooling to the race with friends. Then this race morning started with three attempts to pull out of the drive-way (30 minutes off-schedule, already) before I remembered everything...except cash; three stops to find an ATM I was willing to pay for the privilege to use; then missing the ONE exit of the ~2 hour trip I was supposed to take in order to get there in a timely manner. I'm thinkin' I should have turned around then...
Fast-forward a bit to me realizing that nearly every conversation I had with the moto-folk upon arrival included something along the lines of "eh, I just really don't feel the 'mojo' today...hope that passes". The distraction of thinking "man, the conditions are perfect, this trail is gnarly-sweet...why am I not having more...fun???" dominated my first practice lap. The 2nd lap I was far more on form, but over-run by the lack-luster feelings of the first one combined with discomfort of considering battle with the ump-teen others in my class on such terrain. Not the best mindset, wouldn't you agree?
Back to the truck for PowerBars and Gatorade, and to find out the start is delayed, then hoping that extra time might help me get my race-face on while/but continuing to consider, "why am I here???" The rider's meeting finally took place, but included the announcement of another short delay, and that was finally the "sign" I gave up trying to argue. I rode from the rider's meeting straight up and into the back of my truck and had my clothes changed, truck packed and Diet Pepsi in hand before my buddies had their helmets buckled up to head down to the start. In typically-Tony fashion, my attempts at mild humor to explain my pre-mature exit, when cognitively hog-tied, failed along the lines of "my life is too effing tightly scheduled to allow for such delays", "I shoulda brought my mountain bike", and "consider my entry fee a voluntary donation to the AA class purse".
I pulled outa there both mildly pissed off at the waste of time I brought upon myself and like I just got dumped by a hot chic - yeah, quite the combo. The next hour or so of silence in the truck was as much mourning as embarrassment, I guess. Grateful I didn't force it, cuz like it or not, you're head's really gotta be in it to make such racing a remotely safe endeavour, yet torqued that I'd ignored the first 1/2 dozen "signs" that already tried to tell me exactly that. The remainder of the drive home was consumed by complex calculations trying to determine how much an "EVERYTHING must GO!!!" sale should include as a price tag, and how much repair vs. disclosure of items needing attention would work out best.
It was nice to surprise my family with my early arrival home and have no truly bad news to explain it. It was a rather relaxed mode I got to enjoy when un-loading the truck and washing the bike while being pleasantly interrupted by my son's random questions. I'll admit, a sort of mental inventory of the garage with the idea of above sale was tallying up in my little brain as I then changed shoes and put on gloves to ride BMX bikes up & down the block with my boy, but it didn't (doesn't YET) feel urgent or panicked. It does feel like something that needs to reach a decision point soon, though, and one that I must carefully contemplate so that I don't (again, I know!) find myself trying to un-do it all this time next year.
Still kinda cool that such a weird, mis-understood & somewhat frustrating day came to an end which included beautiful weather, laughter, calm, and riding bikes & sharing chicken wings with my kids.
More soon, I'm sure...
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