I think my body is ready for some familiar germs and familiar spaces. Familiar roads that I have trained on for more than seven years. The roads you can ride and even with your eyes closed have a pretty good idea of where you need to be. I've come down with another illness. It was not more than a few hours after I returned home yesterday that it hit me. Stuffy head, sore throat, sweating, and the general feeling of being in a fog. With three weeks left this makes me more pissed than anything else. I feel like I am wasting away between bed and the couch. At least my dutch might improve by watching a bunch of TV but it is so easy to get stuck watching programs in English and it doesn't do me much good. My full bed here is made up of two twin beds and I kept sinking between them as if I was bound for some mysterious black hole until this afternoon when I finally realized they had slipped apart. Pushing them back together has been the highlight of my day. I'm no longer waking up with that awful sinking feeling in my mind.
The second highlight of my day was going to the Doc's office and watching the news for thirty-six minutes. He assigned me a whole list of stuff, I think 5 or 6 things overall that would get back into feeling human again. Of course I've felt worse but those instances are voluntary. Those are the moments you have to feel good before you feel bad. Now I just plain feel bad. Suffering on a bike when you start feeling bad just yields worse. But I'm tempted to try and keep pushing. I don't really know what else to do with myself these days. Riding my bike is all I've come to know and love. When I say love I mean true love. There are times you hate it but you keep going. This far more than
MTV Generation love, where you just do what you like as long as you like and then when it is not fun you move on. That is not love. I've been through that phase and I thought I knew what it meant to push on. I thought I knew what it meant to give it your all. To dig deep and deeper and suck up those negative ideas and turn them around to more appropriate form of success. Even now though I still think I could have done more. So I will not give myself too much credit. I'm not going to get involved with myself on that note though. Maybe it is something I will take up with myself when I'm home sitting in my room, reflecting on those brief moments of clarity. They come so fast and disappear before we even recognize them. I think if was to define my racing by the quote "
life is not defined by the number of breaths we take but the number of moments that take our breath away" my season has been a success. I don't recall many moments where I wasn't suffocating under the amount of speed I've asked my body to produce. What a lovely blur of a summer I've had!
I think my body is ready for some familiar germs and familiar spaces. Familiar roads that I have trained on for more than seven years. The roads you can ride and even with your eyes closed have a pretty good idea of where you need to be. I've come down with another illness. It was not more than a few hours after I returned home yesterday that it hit me. Stuffy head, sore throat, sweating, and the general feeling of being in a fog. With three weeks left this makes me more pissed than anything else. I feel like I am wasting away between bed and the couch. At least my dutch might improve by watching a bunch of TV but it is so easy to get stuck watching programs in English and it doesn't do me much good. My full bed here is made up of two twin beds and I kept sinking between them as if I was bound for some mysterious black hole until this afternoon when I finally realized they had slipped apart. Pushing them back together has been the highlight of my day. I'm no longer waking up with that awful sinking feeling in my mind. 
The second highlight of my day was going to the Doc's office and watching the news for thirty-six minutes. He assigned me a whole list of stuff, I think 5 or 6 things overall that would get back into feeling human again. Of course I've felt worse but those instances are voluntary. Those are the moments you have to feel good before you feel bad. Now I just plain feel bad. Suffering on a bike when you start feeling bad just yields worse. But I'm tempted to try and keep pushing. I don't really know what else to do with myself these days. Riding my bike is all I've come to know and love. When I say love I mean true love. There are times you hate it but you keep going. This far more than MTV Generation love, where you just do what you like as long as you like and then when it is not fun you move on. That is not love. I've been through that phase and I thought I knew what it meant to push on. I thought I knew what it meant to give it your all. To dig deep and deeper and suck up those negative ideas and turn them around to more appropriate form of success. Even now though I still think I could have done more. So I will not give myself too much credit. I'm not going to get involved with myself on that note though. Maybe it is something I will take up with myself when I'm home sitting in my room, reflecting on those brief moments of clarity. They come so fast and disappear before we even recognize them. I think if was to define my racing by the quote "life is not defined by the number of breaths we take but the number of moments that take our breath away" my season has been a success. I don't recall many moments where I wasn't suffocating under the amount of speed I've asked my body to produce. What a lovely blur of a summer I've had!
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