I’m not one to complain. Hahaha! Sorry, I couldn’t even type that without laughing. OK, I am one to complain. I try not to do it out loud so much because I know how annoying it is, but I complain a lot in my head. Sometimes out loud more than I should. But this particular mental bitch fest has grown so loud the past couple of weeks that I have to let it out. Here’s the deal: I am so god-d&#% sick of cycling that I am a spoke’s length away from throwing this fu@&ing bike over the next mother-freakin’ hill that dares to shove it’s ugly f-in head in my G.D. face. Seriously. Sick. To. Death.
It takes up all of my weekends. It’s hard as hell. I’m achy and hungry every damn day. I’m spending more money than I have on spandex and electrolyte tablets for Christ’s sakes! Who the hell does this? And people are singing show tunes behind me when I can barely breathe while pedaling up a mountain that a car would have trouble with. No. Just no. I’m done. I’ll keep going. But I’m done. Not really. But really. But not. Remember when I said how fun it was? How nice it was to be out in nature and the friendliness of all the riders and community? How the challenge was challenging but so meaningful and yada yada? Well, that may all be true, but I’m done. But not really. But I am. In my head. I hate it. I hate all of it.
“You must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” This is the new mantra. It’s also the mantra I use when I’m depressed. Is there such a thing as bike depression? If so, I’m having it hard. I suspect, though, it’s a natural phase in any challenge you take on, a moment when the work clearly becomes work. My higher self says this to me, somewhere I know it’s true, but the me self says “suck it, higher self.” I’m tired, and I want my weekends back. I also feel great. And I have no idea how to reconcile that. So I’ll go on. But know that if I could cycle while kicking and screaming without possibly dying, I would totally try that. So in short, I hate it. But I’ll keep going.