Back to active blogging; slogging and flogging the noggin.
Well, I've gotten away from writing in general. As a result, the neurosis usually resolved by typing has been dissapated in unhealthy ways. Could I get more OCD?
Either way, I'm hoping the Freudian take on writing as therapy will help.
Racing. That's what this blog is about, right?
This year, I've decided to mostly skip masters racing and throw my hat in with the guys who get paid to race (and the ones who want everyone to think they get paid). So far, the results have been predictiably less spectacular than last year. But far, far more satisfying.
I raced as a cat 2 on the road and cat 1 on the track when I was a lot younger. My age and large ass haven't made me feel slower. But I feel like my head is in a much more serene place than when I was an overgrown teenager at age 23.
I'm competitive when it is flat to rolling. I can hold my own when it gets steep and sustained. I get absolutley killed when it gets steep, sustained and fast. That's it. I know my limitations and because of that, I have a lot more fun racing now than I ever did before.
Plus, I've got distractions! Beautiful wife, kids, job. All these things keep me from believing I'm going to be wearing anyone's pro jersey any time soon. But racing isn't fun unless it's fast and competitive and I'm a factor. If any of these things change, I'm out.
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