The Truth Hurts
I came to a realization early on this time.
Somewhere around 5 hours in, I realized how bad this was going to suck. The heavy pondering of what's next? You're questioning yourself, and starting to suffer. The weary fatigue has yet to come, but you know it is coming. Like some blood thickening chemical that is slowly building up from your excess consumption of crunchy water mix. Now that sticky energy mix you so desperately rely upon pumps in your legs, slowing you down.
The shit that coats your lips, and after 2 laps of forgetting to put some on when in your pit stop, you finally remember to put some lip balm on. All of this is weighing heavy on your head, because there is no shelter, no place to hide...
The Truth Is, everything is going to get worse. Get over it, and ignore it any way you can.
After that I was plugging lap after lap and having fun to mask the pain, to distract my brain from questioning my motives for continuing. Ok, it is fair to admit that I'm a bit of a lunatic, but I sang in a really off key voice any song I could think of for a few laps. That backfired on me though, when I kept repeating the chorus of a song, so I switched to making up my own lyrics. I learned how to dial in corners to exit with blistering speed with sound effects that I would provide. Every time the trail dropped away suddenly, I would air it out instead of rolling through, and I would pull wheelie drops off the plywood/2-by-4 water crossings. I learned how to air it out and cross up my bars when dropping into steep sections, something I ahven't ever done in 15 years of trail riding. I contemplated my future, my life goals, and my love(s) lost. The Hurt in my life cannot be hidden when I have been broken down to this degree, you have to stare it all in the face and examine it all in precise, agonizing detail. The faces of your past, staring back at you waiting for your answer.
The mental game cannot be trained for like the physical. One cannot spend extra hours on the trainer or log additional miles to prepare the brain for the inevitable mindfuck you experience when on a bike for this sort of duration.
This is The Truth, The Answer.
This is my edge.
This is how I win.
Now time to clean the steed
Somewhere around 5 hours in, I realized how bad this was going to suck. The heavy pondering of what's next? You're questioning yourself, and starting to suffer. The weary fatigue has yet to come, but you know it is coming. Like some blood thickening chemical that is slowly building up from your excess consumption of crunchy water mix. Now that sticky energy mix you so desperately rely upon pumps in your legs, slowing you down.
The shit that coats your lips, and after 2 laps of forgetting to put some on when in your pit stop, you finally remember to put some lip balm on. All of this is weighing heavy on your head, because there is no shelter, no place to hide...
The Truth Is, everything is going to get worse. Get over it, and ignore it any way you can.
After that I was plugging lap after lap and having fun to mask the pain, to distract my brain from questioning my motives for continuing. Ok, it is fair to admit that I'm a bit of a lunatic, but I sang in a really off key voice any song I could think of for a few laps. That backfired on me though, when I kept repeating the chorus of a song, so I switched to making up my own lyrics. I learned how to dial in corners to exit with blistering speed with sound effects that I would provide. Every time the trail dropped away suddenly, I would air it out instead of rolling through, and I would pull wheelie drops off the plywood/2-by-4 water crossings. I learned how to air it out and cross up my bars when dropping into steep sections, something I ahven't ever done in 15 years of trail riding. I contemplated my future, my life goals, and my love(s) lost. The Hurt in my life cannot be hidden when I have been broken down to this degree, you have to stare it all in the face and examine it all in precise, agonizing detail. The faces of your past, staring back at you waiting for your answer.
The mental game cannot be trained for like the physical. One cannot spend extra hours on the trainer or log additional miles to prepare the brain for the inevitable mindfuck you experience when on a bike for this sort of duration.
This is The Truth, The Answer.
This is my edge.
This is how I win.
Now time to clean the steed
posted by BubbRubb at
1/23/2006 09:37:00 PM
1 Comments:
That is one dirty steed!
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