As I begin to realize that my dream of going to PBP is likely going to happen (Steve and I have now qualified), it seems it comes with more emotional and physical work than I thought it would take. Not that I thought it would be easy. No. As a coach I know that the work required to come back after so many injuries and mental stress is not easy. But, I thought once I qualified I would feel more confidence about getting to Paris and riding 1200km in 90 hours or under. Two steps forward, one step back. Guess it's better then two steps forward and two steps back. I just have to get this weight off of my shoulders. The weight of the monkey that seems to be sitting heavy, waiting for me to fail. To not get stronger. To not feel accomplishment. To not feel like I'm moving forward. And yet, I AM moving forward. I just am not the same. Hhhmmm, not the same. Why do I feel compelled to be the same?
I guess the easiest way to heal and move forward is to give up the past. If I really want to start over, I need to stop the continuous thoughts of "I'm not the same as I was" and " I'm not as fast or as strong as I was". Of course I'm not. I was hit by a truck, I got cancer and I had multiple surgeries to repair the accident damage. So why do I continue to think I will be what, who, and where I was? Because I am human. I want hope. Hope and determination of that hope is the driver of this cyclist, this athlete, this human. I want what I remember to be me. I felt like I was superhuman. Well, that's what I thought. I never gave any physical endeavor much thought. I just went and did it. And most of the time succeeded quite well. Not like I didn't have to try. Or that is wasn't hard. I pushed myself all of the time. I could always do and be better. The very thing that is driving me to Paris now, is the monkey that sits on my shoulders. To give it up now would be to give up my dreams. If I give up my dreams, I let the accident win. The system wins-not me. Not on my terms. So I continue to pedal. To look forward. To have hope that one day, although not the same as before, that I will be comfortable on my bike. Comfortable with less strength, comfortable being different than I was. Comfortable with the wind in my face and the views from the seat of my bike. I miss that feeling. I miss the parallel to life that riding brought me. The bike moves forward. Life moves forward.
It's hard to leave behind what you know.