wicknastyviz1Sunlight filters down through clouds of thick orange smoke onto my stinging neck as trickles of sweat poor into my eyes blurring the line between road and cliff. I strain against my pedals, willing my bike forward as the oppressive hot smokey air tears at my lungs and tries to break my will to continue. I force my body onward, it is only two hours to home, two short hours to sweet relief, prone on the couch in tight socks, cool drink in hand, cool tunes on the head phones, snacks at hand, and nap imminent. My life is split into two distinct and very separate experiences.

I burn though my flesh and muscles with abandon, pounding my legs and heart and lungs into a mash of soggy goop that screams at me to stop. Then I do it again, and then again. Through repetition and focus transforming my body and maybe even parts of my soul into a ruthless machine, ready for business, merciless and brutal, finely tuned and ready for battle.

I am a coddled baby, nestled into a cocoon of supreme comfort, freshly bathed, swaddled and soft. Whispering sweet nothings to my body that I won’t do it again, won’t make it feel like that. That the worst of it is over, and I didn’t really mean it, I was just playing around, couldn’t you tell? See how nice I am to you with this delicious foods, these cool drinks, these soft cushions? All you have to do is feel better, heal up good and strong, and I promise I will be nice to you tomorrow, I wont make it hurt so bad, I will be gentle, and delicate, Just get better fast and we can move past this little “episode” and be friends again. I swear, it was all just a joke, lets talk about something else now, and then we can forget together.

Only three more weeks until Cross season starts. Time to get into shape.