Like a Reproach

Have you ever had a series of months strung together where everything you touch turns to shit? Like you have a reverse Midas touch or something?

I'm going through that right now. Things are fine at work, I'm pretty sure the family scene is copacetic, at least as far as the immediate family goes, but my bicycling, general fitness and overall happiness level... it's about zero.

The recovery of the milled big toe is more or less on pace, so that alone isn't grounds to be unhappy. The doc ground off maybe a third of the bone on the first metatarsal about three, four weeks ago, so the moderate pain there, akin to a broken toe, isn't surprising. It has kept me off the bike a lot, slows down my walking, and keeps me from doing a lot of fun things I'd otherwise be doing right now. I've gotten in about 6 rides since the start of June. Pathetic.

Then last week I was visiting family in Syracuse. Since I was traveling as a single parent for this visit, I got in precisely no rides. That's not thoroughly accurate - I did pedal ten or twelve miles twice hauling the third wheel and the kid - but it's as close to nothing as possible.

I'm off today on some business travel, getting back at oh-dark-thirty on Friday. Work is going fine, if being da man and doing enough work for three people is what you consider fine. Seriously, I'm going full tilt Army Mule at work, really moving the ball, but also wearing my own ass out in the process. In order to get away for leave last week, I worked 13 out of 14 days, long days, prior to going on leave. I got back Saturday night then spent much of yesterday (Sunday) in the office.

I know. Given my glamorous Blogger To The Stars lifestyle, you think this is just whingeing. It is. That doesn't make it any less of a pain in the ass to my own fragile Id. I'm very unhappy right now. No ride, no happy.

Meanwhile, the two bikes I have out in the Mancave are staring at me, and my tight pants.

Each time I walk by them it's lie a reproach.

I had ambitious plans for the season too. I was really amped up going into the off-season, kept my legs under me reasonably well, was looking forward to doing some roadracing...

It just all turned to shit when my ankle blew up in January, then in March. Then again in mid-May, leading to the foot surgery.

Now I'm sitting here looking at my two bikes, the biggest cash investment in my life beside my house, and they are just doing nothing.

Family demands aren't ceasing either. I'm supposed to take Rouleur Offspring up to New York to spend time with the family in July, another week of single parenting and no riding whatsoever. Then there's a wedding of a distant cousin I'm being pressured to attend in August, aother near-week of travel and no riding.

This is just getting ridiculous. Everything is totally out of whack. I don't mind being a bit low on the priority list in my own life but I'm not even really making the list at all right now.

All I want is a consistent 90 minutes of down time, 5 times a week, for a couple months. Me, alone, on the bike, turning the pedals, hopefully on a consistent basis. Seriously, I don't want money, fame, or fancy cars. Just 90 minutes.

And no, having 90 minutes just before bed, as I sit there exhausted at the end of an 18 hour day, doesn't count. 90 minutes once a week on a Saturday morning doesn't really count either. That only makes it worse - it just points out everything I'm not doing right.

The bikes only weigh 17 or 18 pounds. When I look at them, however, I feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. Like their presence is a reproach for me letting my life run me, rather than the other way around.