It’s summer, which means it’s triathlon season. I should be outside doing something, anything. I should be enjoying my peeps, hanging with the gang, enjoying the sweaty fury of it all. I should be listening to the (gentle?) pitty-pat of my (little?) running shoes on the trail. I should be zoning to the quiet whirrrrrr of by bike wheel.
But I’m not. I’m in my garage. On my bike trainer. It’s crazy hot, but the whirrrr of the plastic fan blades is keeping me company. In the distance there are voices of unknown neighbors walking their dogs. There’s a train that I don’t have to stop for. It’s my third “ride” since I’ve been “allowed” (read: able) to get back on my bike. (I’m up to an hour with no particular ramifications! Yay for me!) The music from my cassette player blares in the background.
Yeah. Cassette player. Remember them? I threw away all but two tapes years ago. These two I just couldn’t seem to part with. I stumbled upon them today so am listening happily.
It doesn’t really matter WHAT the music is, it just brings you back to a time, a place. I’m happy as I remember the friends who introduced me to the singer. I smile as I try to remember the words, the harmonies, the chord changes. And then I remember what was going on in my life at that point. I was experiencing that angst that goes along with the 20’s decade. Right career path? Right man? Fulfilling life? Feelings if discontent? And that stupid eating disorder. I’m digging the music, but not all the memories.
It’s endurance season. I’m an “endurance athlete”. Whirrrr. Pitty-pat. Lull to zone out. Time to think what I’m running from, who I’m biking for, where I’m swimming to, why…
And despite the fact that it’s “season” and I’ve missed it, I’m incredibly content. Today’s ride has taught me that I’d rather have one completely missed triathlon season (crash, injuries, surgery and all) than go back to my 20’s decade. I know that one bad triathlon season is better than one great day of bulimia. Although I feel a little out of whack…and sometimes completely whacked…I’d rather be right here, right now in my life than somewhere else.
Thanks for the memory, Michael Kelly Blanchard.
For you are timeless and part of a puzzle, you are winsome and young as a lad. And there is no disease or no struggle that can pull you from God. Be Ye Glad