I was paralyzed with indecision on Friday morning. The Spoke Easy was having their 5th anniversary party that night. There was a 6 hour race just 40 minutes from my house Saturday morning.
I don't think I've missed an anniversary party at The Spoke yet. And it is on the way home, so...
But I also was looking forward to some time in the saddle. Some aspect of self-flagellation. Some last chance for glory before the "season" goes away. Some something.
I went to the party.
In the end, I was pretty sure I would regret the decision to race after about two hours of riding, which is not a good time to lose motivation in a six hour race. Any "glory" that could be achieved would certainly just be an ego thing anyways, and very recently, it's been quite easy to detach from that part of the world. What can I say? My ego lost its appetite.
So, the party. Show up right after work. Hardly anyone there except the employees. I guess the youths don't start their evenings in the late afternoon.
Eventually, folks trickle into the shop. My only goal is to stay lucid enough that I don't miss the 7:00PM ride, either on purpose or by accident. The 7:00PM ride leaves after 8:00PM, and somehow I was on it.
A nice jaunt around the city where being an adult didn't seem all that important. We ended in a park, and were given the opportunity to race a parking lot criterium with a LeMans start.
Seconds before the start, I run towards Zac for the tackle. He waved me off, saying that Jim would probably pig-pile us both if we showed signs of weakness. The race started and through lack of forethought, I couldn't tell which bike with lights blazing across the field was mine. I ran towards where I thought my bike was, Zac grabbed it and rode off. I chased after him until I realized he wasn't on my bike. I looked back, and my bike was the last one on the fence. Shit.
Got on my bike, made some moves, caught a few people, ended up with some course tape around my neck slowly trying to either choke me out or pull me off my bike... and finish.
Back at the shop, tamales, pizza. Jason Wilson tried to talk me into getting up early to go to the race anyways. I had already told Nick and Zac I'd be up for some urban trail Saturday night since Kim and Nia will be at the Humane Society of Charlotte's Ties and Tails Gala.
But my brain is weak and malleable and Nick and Zac said whatever. I made sure to leave the shop before 11:00PM to keep my options open.
I went to bed knowing that I wasn't going to race. Too much effort. Not just the racing, but the getting up and the readying of things.
But then I'm up before 7:00AM on Saturday anyways. The roofers that were supposed to be here days ago just decided to launch a small invasion on my house at dawn. I was awakened by the delightful sounds of scraping and pounding and what I can only assume was extreme pogo sticking.
Because, this is now my day: