Five Stages of Recovery

More a marathon than what meets the eye

This is probably going to be the last time I talk about my injuries seeing as even I am getting sick and tired of my complaining. I find that for the majority of ailments we often revert to the five stages of Loss and Grief.

  1. Denial: On the day of the crash, once I had gotten up, cleaned my wounds as best as I could, assess the damage (both to my body and the bike) I naturally underestimated and eventually denied the amount of time it would take for thing to heal. It’s been a week now and I find myself slipping deeper and deeper into an emotional funk (but more about that later.)
  2. Anger: While the first shower leaves you screaming in pain and anger it is once things are settled that we assess what exactly took place (next to explaining it to all our friends who want to know the same thing) and realize what a careless mistake we made (and could have avoided.) Anger also comes from a lack of patience. I sit in my bed thinking about the thousands of epithelial cells repairing themselves and still wonder why things take the amount of time that they do.
  3. Bargaining: I have bought several types of bandages in an effort to expedite the recovery process. I lay in bed most of the day to conserve energy so repairs can be made. This has proven to be a psychological burden on my esteem and fitness. Watching the sun rise and set from my bed can only be described by the next step in the process.
  4. Depression: The old’ familiar feeling. I haven’t been clinically diagnosed with this type of condition. However from what I have heard from others, the biggest factors that come into play are duration and severity. I’ve felt sad long before I took this spill on my bike. The feeling of being anchored by lack of motivation has reached a new level though. I know that idle behavior is necessary to prevent prolonged recovery, but I am less and less motivated to find alternatives to pass the time. There has been a book laying around in my bed for the past two weeks that I haven’t touched (and its about cycling too!) on top of that, I don’t see much of a point to talk with friends. When it comes down to the subject of reacquainting, my condition hinders me from such outings. The worst part of stumbling on group ride photos on weekends. I have done my best to stay away from Strava for this entire time. On top of that I have gained weight and know that fitness is being lost. Its what I imagine being sedated feels like. You are able to recognize that there are things to do, people to interact with, alternatives to your idle behavior, but you choose not to do any of the above in apathy.
  5. Acceptance: Haven’t gotten there yet. Once I have most of my mobility back, I’ll begin to share what that feels like.


There is a bit of good news to this sad story.

After racing for so many years and developing a plan to specialize in a race I would like to participate in, I have figured out a formula to rebuild myself back to the stud I once was. I know the necessary steps that need to be taken and have the means of doing it. I plan on getting a lot closer to my track bike than I have since I bought it. Stepping back and no longer thinking about training while currently training has made my goals clear and defined. I can now focus on what matters most, and make my best effort to reach those goals. I know things will work out due to a recent stream of success in these off season crit races.

So up until then, I guess you could say I’m in my off season. An off season filled with eating more (or about the same) as I used to when I was on the bike followed by beers to try and keep the mind from dwelling on the longing to get back on the bike. When the time comes to hop back on, everyone will know about it.



Laser Beam Focus, Chainsaw Intensity

I passed on an opportunity to upgrade bike frames.

In the aftermath of my recent tumble my rear dropout cracked, compromising the frame’s integrity. With the warranty option out of the question I am left with the option to upgrade, or to send the frame to a specialty shop and have the carbon fibers repaired.

The deal I got for the new frame is one of a kind. Better than any shop or employee at a bike shop could get. As much of an ‘investment’ I can attempt to justify this as, the part of me that speaks the loudest saw this type of materialism as too much. I surprised myself at this very decision. I am also surprised how soon it took me to come to such a decision. Working in the Emergency Medical field I have sharpened my decision making skills to counter-act my introverted character. Normally a decision of such magnitude would require nights to sleep on it, (although I’m not getting much sound sleep with both of my hips unable to receive more than the direct pressure that comes from wearing fitted clothes) have discussions amongst friends, then finally do some internalizing and decide what I really want to do.

The biggest reason I made this choice was from a view I have held ever since I first got this bike. It is out of character for me to blindly seek the latest and greatest materials in life year after year. I’ve never been good at keeping up with the Jones’ due to lack of interest. Too soon do I find myself reflecting back and asking why I am making this decision. Day after day goes by and the questions pile up more and more until I have no excuse to justify my reasoning in my head. Then comes the guilt and the feeling I imagine cattle feel when living side by side one another day after day, for the rest of their lives. No distinction between one another, no individuality, (but most importantly) no rational thoughts!

I hold a sentimental value to all big purchases I make. Mainly because these things be they big or small help me express myself in my own unique way. Why am I going to swap out a bike that I have spent so much time with and come to accept as another member of the family? Having a bike in limbo like this feels like a loved one has been hospitalized for an unknown amount of time. We all try our best to cope and move on with our lives, but deep down there is a growing sense of yearning for a speedy recovery. (On a side note, I got out of bed this afternoon with little to no aches and pains from a number of healing wounds on skin that is directly above constantly moving joints.) The progression to my own physical being has me wishing things could heal on my bike all the same. I use the term, ‘my’ bike instead of ‘the’ bike to show emphasis on how much this means to me. I want my bike to be back to normal. Not replaced by something that looks and performs just like it (probably better too.)

My road bike defines who I am as a person. Once you have made the purchase of a bike at such a high caliber, everything newer and more advanced than that is splitting hairs. The likes of which I have no energy for. I have never wished for a quicker recovery (both for my bike and I) as far back as I can remember. Going without puts your passion into perspective. Normal human beings who undergo a crash or an injury often times say to themselves, “I’m never doing that again.” Athletes are a different breed. It is because I cannot get cycling off my mind that I have been so patient and have decided to be the tough guy and ride through my injuries, prolonging the healing process. Having a little more free time than I already have has focused my goals for the upcoming season and my longer-term goals for cycling. It is the same feeling that comes after a long ride in which you pushed yourself harder than you believed you were able to go. You came out on top, and feel elated after having performed such a task. This precious feeling is the holy grail amongst all athletes. No ransom, no material good would come close to an equivalent exchange that athlete may consider. We cherish it and want nothing more in the world than to maintain that level of fitness and strength for as long as possible.

All of these thoughts have come from spending the past five days idle and without a road bike. Goals have been refined, and a new level on confidence and perspective has come to mind. This (time off the bike I am dubbing) ‘off-season’ has been most beneficial for my mind more than my body. I feel a laser beam of focus I will compliment with the chainsaw intensity the body can (and will) produce.


High Noise Low Output

The adrenaline has worn off, the pain has begun, and the healing can begin

If you have experienced the joys of cycling for a few hours or your entire life, you know that after an injury the only question that circles in your mind (unlike any normal human being) is, “How soon until I can get back on the bike?”It has only been a day and I am desperately trying to figure out how soon I can get back to riding, and the overall health of my bike. Its currently at the shop due to some frame damage and while there are a few options to solve this issue, I am left in the waiting room hoping for a speedy recovery (for my bike and myself.) I would be lying if I said the absence of something I have spent so much time with feels like a member of the family is missing. The empty space that is left in my room makes the room that much colder and lonely. I cannot imagine what I would be up to if I didn’t have a backup track bike to ride around. This limits me to the type of riding I am able to do, but you won’t get any complaints out of me (the velodrome is all of three miles from my house.)

While I technically haven’t taken an entire day off the bike (I ran a few errands to buy more bandages and tape) I will continue with my upcoming weekend plans of attending a few concerts.Tonight I go to see one of the bands I used to listen to in high school when I thought I wanted to become a musician. Norma Jean, a melodic and groove-inspired heavy rock band will be playing at one of the tiny local venues I used to wonder in during my high school years. One of the main reasons I decided to go aside from remembering their sound, and the fact that I get giddy when I hear about bigger bands playing at hole-in-the-wall venues, is to see how things have changed. There is no doubt in my mind that I have changed on many different facets since I was listening to music with double bass breakdowns and gnarly screaming. After flying from that nest I can say that I can appreciate and enjoy that same distorted sound, but am unable to listen to it as often as I used to.

Every few years of my life I like to reflect back on the person I was then, and the person I am today. Most of the time this is overwhelmingly uncomfortable after the first five minutes of reflection. But like me deciding to go back and attend the party-ride scene once more to see how things have changed, I too will have the same motives tonight. Part of me wants to observe the teenagers in this environment (such as I have) to see how they behave and to secretly geek out on whether I too was that pretentious, naive, and not well spoken. It is going to take some courage to look into this and not strongly consider I too was like this at one point in time. It’s kinda like not being able to listen to your own voice because you’re certain you will find a quality you don’t like, only it’s a lifestyle you used to live and were convinced this is going to be the way things are for the rest of your life. There might be a slight change that I will have something in common with these kids outside of the band and similar bands like them, but there is a better chance I’ll catch something in them that I might get nostalgic on in a melancholic way.

The voice inside my head: “Oh look at that, I can remember when I was excited to graduate high school and have big plans for the future. I remember when I had multiple options that I was stoked about.”

There is something about seeing young ambition that turns the cynical gears in my head. Call it what you want, the way I see it, when you talk to a teen approaching the end of their high school career, you may as well be witnessing a bird begin to leave the nest in their first attempts at flight. There are some that do well and leave the nest soaring. The realist (pessimist) in me favors the other end of the spectrum. I don’t wish this type of fate on to others. I see there being a more likely chance of the second and less glorious outcome. It’s going to be hard not to play the older guy thats, ‘seen some things’ and ‘been around the block a few times’ to come out and give unwanted unsolicited advice to others. Must keep to my own thoughts and try and learn as music as possible as I can from the youth. Not to learn the new slang and fashions, but to see how far off my views of the world were from what I can come to learn today.

On another note….

There will be a former pro cyclist appearing at our new shop to promote his new ( and incredibly attractive, in a slightly ridiculous, over-the-top, eurotrash sense) line of bicycles. I cannot say I am as excited to see him as those who are old enough to have seen him when he was still racing. The time gap inhibits my ability to formulate an opinion and relationship with the rider. I haven’t been able to find some text that represents his life, or a decent biography thats in english. Thank goodness this isn’t a ticketed event. What insignificant amount of respect I did have for him would have been diminished in a heartbeat.

Enter Shikari had a lot to say in an article  about people charging others money to be near that person (summarized as prostitution with a veil of marketing terms in hopes to fool the masses.)

So that’s whats on tonight’s agenda. After running errands both on the bike and in the car, I am tired to crawling in and out of my car with neck cramps and having to deal with the traffic in a way that doesn’t provide any type of advantage. If anyone would like to see me, I’ll be the older guy at the concert with earplugs, avoiding the youngsters who insist on throwing punches and kicks at the air in an attempt to alleviate their angst while wearing clothes that don’t fit and makeup that is best suited for end of the year holidays. (Thank god I never made it to the makeup wearing, nail polish wearing step of things. -sigh-)


This is What it Feels Like

The amount of attention that comes from being a celebrity on a day-to-day basis is the same amount I imagine one gets after an injury

I am prefacing this by saying that some of you may feel inclined for my well being after revealing that I took a spill on today’s morning ride. While I find the idea thoughtful, more of me sees the obligation for others to impose their opinions and thoughts onto others (have a nice day, get well soon, glad to hear you’re alright) completely counterproductive and stressful. Lets all save the redundancies and skip such phrases. Not once have I questioned ones ability to empathize with another after something negative has happened, so please don’t feel the need to remind me.

For those of you with the burning questions of, “How did it happen?” I’ll keep it short and sweet. I was going downhill on my own. Decided to take a turn more aggressive than I usually do, and managed to have the bike slide out from under me. Must have been some gravel I rode over. I rolled, slid, got back up, and rode home.

Seeing as I didn’t black out I was able to experience the thoughts that occur during a crash (thus the inspiration for the title.) The physical feeling is all the same. If you have crashed once, the next time it happens doesn’t feel significantly different from the precious experience. In all the times I have crashed there seems to be a cycle of thoughts and emotions that occur. The events leading to the inevitable feeling are the shortest lived. The peak that comes is finally accepting that you are out of control and are left to the mercy of physics. Once your body makes contact with the surface there is an initial feeling of pain, but is immediately masked by hormones and followed up with a self-defensive mindset that when best summarized, it is the mind waiting for the crash to be over and done with so we can spring into action to recover. I never realized this up until now. The pain subsides and we are left waiting until whatever is causing the pain is finally over. The only experience I have to speak from is through cycling. I’ve never been in a fight before, but I imagine this must be a similar feeling when you’ve accepted that you are not going to win.

Once we have accepted our fate, it is fate itself that is surprisingly less significant than anticipating such an event. I can remember a time when I was getting back from a group memorial ride that involved a tremendous amount of climbing, the likes of which I wasn’t ready for. I had to cut the ride short due to fatigue and lack of motivation. I made it downhill just fine. When crossing the road, in my dazed and confused state, I failed to properly scan both sides of the road and came in close contact with a driver. Judging by the speed both of us were traveling, I thought to myself, “Well, looks like I’m gonna get hit by a car for the first time.” I ended up not being hit in that circumstance. Instead I slammed on both brakes (the front more than the rear) brought my rear wheel up about three feet, and stopped right next to the driver’s front right fender just in time. The point I’m getting at is that once I had mentally accepted that I was going to get hit, there was no more tension in my body. I was no longer panicked by the thought of being hit because I was convinced it was going to happen. It’s a strange thing what the mind does to have preserve the body’s well being.

The reason I didn’t immediately jump to the social interwebs was for a few reasons. On a side-note, I can remember someone on a motor scooter checking up on me and asking if there was someone that I could call to possibly get a ride home. I couldn’t think of a soul. While this isn’t what I would consider a rational thought to be, it was a lead-in to another idea I discovered on my ride back home.

Working in the medical field, not only was I able to access myself (and inevitably negate and undermine my own advice as all medical professionals seem to do. “Me, I’m fine!” or “I’m not sick. I’m a doctor”) but begin to understand the assisted healing process from a grand scheme. Never has the rule of requesting consent been so clear in my head after today. A little known fact for all civilians without medical backgrounds, medical staff (no matter their qualifications) are not allowed to treat without consent (unless you’re on a psychiatric hold. But thats a story for another day.)

Am I aware that others care for my health and safety? Yes. That being said, I cannot stress how little you are helping anyone else when you force yourself (or your words and thoughts) onto others without their consent. A more productive question to ask someone who you suspect might need help (or unsolicited advice) is, “Do you need help?” I will take the liberty of answering this for all of you right now; no I do not need your help. I’m pretty banged up but I have also done all I can to make the best out of the situation. So save your breath and you can share your kind words when I am ready to hear them.

This point hit home the most when I was about three miles from my house. A scruffy looking guy on a bike came up to me and first asked me if I was a professional rider. I responded, “Yes.” ( I was wearing a BMC kit, riding a BMC bike. In this case yes, I was a professional.) Then, just as I had predicted, he proceeded to poke and prod me with questions and lecture me on what I should have done in my case.

“Your clothes are torn. Did you crash?”

Nothing gets by you buddy…. “Yes”

“Oh wow, did you get hurt pretty bad?”

Theres blood on my hands and hips. You get a medal for most observant “Yes”

“How did it happen?”

I have no idea why people expect you to immediately explain all events leading up to the present willingly. Maybe I don’t want to talk about it right now, ever think about that? “I fell going downhill”

“Oh, well, you should be more careful the next time your riding your bike. You need to be more careful.”

“Ok, time to go, see ya later.”

This entire conversation was not helpful in the slightest bit. In fact, it figuratively salted the wounds I already had. I am reminded of the grocery store analogy I’ll always have burned in my head from my first job. We were told to ask every customer if they needed help finding anything, no matter the circumstance (whether they liked it or not.) I can also remember getting in trouble for failing to do so in front of a manager. When he took me outside and asked me how I would want to be treated if I was a customer walking into a grocery store, every ounce of my being wanted to respond with, “I want to be left alone when I go shopping. If I need help, I’ll ask.” But being young and still lacking a sense of identity, I couldn’t get the words out of my head and through my lips. I still feel this way about a lot of things in life. I am more aware of whether someone wants something at any given point in time. As much as I may have the right words to say to that person, if they don’t want to hear it, than anything you say after that point in time is a waste of breath.

This may come off as cold and harsh, but it is how I feel. And to deny or undermine me of my personal identity and my own thoughts is selfish and rude. I am aware that others care about me and I wish to get well soon (at this point in time) but I do not need to hear it from everyone I see for the next few weeks. As far as kind words go, Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll let you know if I need help.


Athlete Diaries: A Hungry Soul

This will start as a race report but metamorphosize into something more.

This Sunday was much last any other Sunday that involves bike racing. I left work immediately to attend, got to hang out with some friends, and felt good (as well as fatigued) by the end of it. I raced for primes and successfully won two out of the three. The reason for not taking all three was because the final one was offered with two laps to go. Having been successful in sprinting past multiple riders to get the first two, I decided to throw my hand in at the final sprint by sitting the final prime lap out and saving what energy I had left for the field sprint. There was no way I had the legs to hold a sustained effort in a breakaway, so that was out of the question. When the last lap came, there were a few quick and potentially dangerous moves that were made that I tried to follow with the energy I still had. The group who ended up swarming and taking the first ten positions were not seen at the front for the entirety of the race. I was clearly outmatched due to multiple efforts and intervals involved with winning a little swag. Needless to say I still walked away unscathed and with a few goodies who’s dollar value was worth more than my race entry. In my book, I came out on top.

What I didn’t mention was that I brought a guest to the race. A new friends I’ve made through some volunteering events at a local radio station. Being new to cycling she shows a strong sense in wanting to absorb as much about cycling culture as possible. Me being the nice guy that I am, I did my best in showing her what cycling has to offer. I knew I had hooked the catch when climbing our first big hill, after mentioning how hard things currently were, in the same sentence I heard, “I kind of like it.” From this point on I have accomplished my mission, and I can hang my helmet for another days ride. With this recent success, it is hard to come up with a reason to find a conflict in what is mostly good. My mind was up for the task and took no time in revelling in the sadistic, and emotionally abusive relationship between mind and body I live with day after day.

Being in the middle of a seven consecutive day work week has brought deep emotions to the surface. Feelings of lonliness and longing for something that is just out of reach and out of sight. After discussing a few topics with co workers, I am finally able to have a clearer understanding for my wants. When it comes to seeking a relationship, sex is at the bottom of the priority list. As strange as this may sound, I have decided that this part of a relationship is less important than other qualities. As much as everyone loves a late-night rendezvous, I’ll  pass most of the time. This came across as confusing for a young twenty-something, but is too strong of an emotion to ignore. If there was a way to harness the elation that comes from the touch of another with the commitment of someone that shares the same lifestyle and worldview (exceptions are welcome in this instance) without putting fancy titles on things, a tremendous weight would be lifted from my being.

What I am trying to get at (and the current question I have asked myself more and more these past few days) is whether or not it is possible for those of the opposite sex to have a friendship that does not cross the line of physical and intimate attraction.

Is this possible? Based on how many humans live on this planet I am leaning towards yes. Given my particular circumstance, I am finding things increasingly difficult to accept. I am friends with women who are spoken for and while they see no threat in continuing a relationship with a male, there is a part of me that is deeply conflicted. As much as I love the company of someone else, no matter the context, there is a part of me that longs for that motherly touch and affection. Knowing what I know now, and still not being able to get what I want while the possibility that things might change in my favor (and are perceived as just out of my grasp) make this cold heart a little colder and my soul a little older.

The past weeks I’ve been listening to the most recent album from Hoizier. He is one of the few artists that when I listen to, I am struck with awe and fascination. I picked up the guitar again just to learn a song that has so much soul and feeling, its hard not to get choked up in. Its one liners in some of his songs from Jackie and Wilson like, “I need to be youthfully felt, ’cause god I’ve never felt young.”And “She’s gonna save me, call me “baby” run her hands through my hair” paint the picture of a setting of happiness and longing that make the coldest of souls a little warmer. When I find myself describing this to others, my initial gesture is to clench both fists to show how important this is to me. And just like clockwork after driving the point home to another, this passion subsides, and buries itself back to my core. Loneliness takes it’s place and things go back to the way they were. It is emotionally exhausting having to create these strong emotions over and over again. There are times where I fail to see a point in sharing these thoughts in the first place. Knowing what you want and not being able to get it no matter how close or far it may be can be a heavy burden to live with. Only now instead of getting angry, I tend to back of and get sad.

There’s the good and the bad. Making friends, doing well on the bike, and trying to keep sane with this marathon of a work week. Until next time….


Hear Me Out

There are times in my relationships with others that we arrive at a level of comfort in which we can share things that others might not give them the impartial response they long for. Once I find this level of comfort, I have been told that it can be perceived as me being “sorry for myself” or “thin skinned.” While there is a growing part of me that agrees with this, there still stands the matter of knowing something exists and being able to deal with said thing. As an adolescent I have been referred as the sensitive one. To this current day, not much has changed in that department. I still have strong feelings towards things, I’m just more vocal about it now. While this strength to share these dwelling thoughts has been liberating, I tend to get a type of feedback I would swap for another if given the chance.

The types of issues I face (a longing for connection, affection, and a well defined sense of purpose and justification for existence in life) hold enough weight to stand on their own. When evaluated by others, the solutions seem easier said than done. I have written about how severe the emotional rollercoaster of bike racing can leave it’s mark on someone can be. This in combination with the lifestyle that comes with working a job that has little to no social interaction throughout the majority of it’s duration can (and have) taken their tolls. The problems can be easily identified. Following through with corrective action is when things become difficult.

There is no mistaking the sense of self improvement that comes from sharing darker thoughts with others. The comment that sound like, “Well maybe you should lighten up/ don’t take things too seriously” or my favorite, “try being less sensitive” that get on my nerves. Sure it may be easier for some people who have a church to go to, or a deity to pray to, or a friend/ significant other who will hear them out and keep them going in the right path. Not all of us have this luxury. It is not as easy for us to change our state of mind as it might be for athletes like myself to lose weight for whatever reason that comes up.

I guess the point I am trying to get at is that I am not convinced that the people who take the liberty of soliciting their advice/ opinions in my direction fully understand the weight of the situation. I am more than aware of my actions and while the part of me that would love to hop on the bandwagon and seek a traditional way of life at this age (pulling my hair out with stress from a temporary part of life like school tests to seek a job I may not be able to justify stressing over so much to live a life that seems PC to share with others at some dinner party) I find a comfort in being sad more often than feeling happy in a given day. This feeling of comfort is incredibly addictive. It identifies my character. And what more should one achieve at this age than a clear definition of self identity?

If you are one of the few people who I have shared darker thoughts with, I encourage you to roll with my train of thought and as a friend feel flattered that I am willing to share core values and beliefs with you. While you may disagree with my train of thought entirely, the fact that you have chosen not to immediately label and disregard what I have to say holds a lot of weight in my book. If you have known me for any extended amount of time, you know that I am always open towards a new point of view no matter what my current stance on a subject may be. It is conversations in which we are able to share such thoughts in a way that fails to step over each other’s views in a disrespectful way that I deeply value and appreciate. From here, we could continue our relationship not speaking to each other for months on end and I, without a doubt, would not hesitate to question our relationship and the immense weight it holds.

To summarize, my thoughts are:

  • Hear me out
  • Try not to be rude or dismissive in your retort
  • Don’t tell me to lighten up or be less sensitive. It’s who I am as a person


An Athlete’s Weekend

Every athlete has been there….

It’s the weekend and you’ve decided you’re going to be a rock star by doing some group event that you know will deplete every ounce of soul you have left, give yourself some time to recover, then go out for the evening. Your morning event goes as planned (and in this particular case) you can barely stand or stand the amount of salt that has stuck to your clothes. There is a celebrating at the end of said event in which you and your buddies recall the ups and downs of the morning group ride. By the time you make it home, you’re grabbing every piece of support in an attempt to turn your staggered crawl into a somewhat normal looking walk.

You have made it to the shower and find some sadistic pleasure in turning the floor into a dark gray tint. If you have ever had any problems falling asleep (as I do with my inconsistent sleep patterns) they have all decided not to present themselves and you are left alone in bed with your battered and exhausted body.

When it’s time to wake up you could have swore you had a meal after your ride. But still, the bottomless pit that is your stomach bellows. It is then you realize that your walk is as though someone has removed pieces of your legs and has left you with the ones necessary for a convincing zombie stagger (so appropriate for the holiday season.)

Somehow you have made your way to your weekend party without getting hit by a car for walking across the street too slow and are as ready as possible in your damaged state. As much as you would like to enjoy the night’s festivities, they can only be met with about 60% effort and is diminishing at an alarmingly quick rate. Every locating meant for (and sometimes not conventionally meant for) sitting has been spotted and you scowl and glare at the butts that are in them. Inside you’re telling yourself, “why are they sitting down right now? Don’t they know I’ve been on my bike for the past five-and-a-half hours and can barely stand? How am I supposed to have the energy to dance with everyone taking up all the damn chairs!!” Aslas, you digress. Making the best effort possible, you manage to power through a night that was originally meant for relaxing and letting loose, into a marathon to hang out for a time that isn’t rudely early, but not until closing time to leave.

If riding back to your car felt like a journey in it of itself in the morning, then the ride back from the party trumps that time generously. Congratulations, you’ve exhausted all the reserves you had and then some. Your night is over and you don’t want to consider what others still at the party, or what’s going on afterwards. Being reduced to a crawl you make it back to bed. By this time your legs are so sore that you won’t be able to enjoy the sleep you thought you were going to get and try and get in your most comfortable position, isolating the parts of your body that are livid that you would make such a silly choice.

Despite all that has happened, all of the actions that took place are somehow justified in your head. And although you barely survived the day, any other circumstance wouldn’t be as memorable. In some weird way your evening plans may not be as special if you hadn’t pre-gamed by wanting to blow your brains out with physical activity that caused more nutritional loss than a stomach bug and the flu put together.

That being said, my bike is still in mar car from this morning and it’s about that time for me to get ready to go out and not pass out from fatigue. Wish me luck.