Time Trial'n

I did Jack on Sunday.
Meaning, I did a 12.4 mile time trial in frigid temperatures in mid-February, put my bike on the roof and went home.
I've come to a realization about time trials. For me, there's nothing smooth, fluid or poetic about them. I can watch videos all day long of Jan Ullrich slowly and methodically grind out enough watts to power Dresden or Lance Armstrong tiptoe his way around the curves and corners of yet another mid-tour race of truth. The truth is, when I'm on my TT bike, I'm more like Butterbean in a 1 round battle royale with Mike Tyson.
There's not a gear that's correct, a cadence that's smooth or satisfactory. Here's a typical stream of conciousness --
Downshift, grind grind, too big, hack hack, upshift, too small, cough, couch, loogie, is that an eagle? I hate the Eagles...MUST STOP THINKING OF "PEACEFUL EASY FEELING".....ahh that's better...Radiohead....CRAP.....look how slow I'm going! Oh man, can I do this turn out on the aero bars? How fast is Zimbelman going? CRAP! The Eagles again!
Multiply that by however many miles are involved and you've got complete mayhem encapsulated within my frontal lobe.
Maybe this is what separates me from the pros; the complete and utter inability to maintain a solid focus. That, and the fact that I'm now almost middle aged with a real job and a wonderful family. And I'm huge.