Sunday, 12 November 2017


Dream. What a word that is. A command? A noun? A hope? The stuff that goes on in your head in the night, weird, wonderful or frightening. Sometimes all three at the same time.

Right now I should be putting some air in my tyres and water in my bottles and heading out into the fresh air I purport to love. I popped my head out the door twenty minutes ago and the biting wind and bitter temperature was enough to snuff out my wilting enthusiasm for a bike ride. It wasn't high to start with. Such a contrast to this time last year.

And I have big dreams of accomplishment on the bike for 2018. Right now these seem a long way away, as I slothfully type away and contemplate my increasing waistline and conjoined heart disease risk. Especially as I've done fewer miles so far this year compared to any year since forever. 2013 anyway.

Part of this was by design. Fewer but better miles accompanied by gym work, losing weight and a focus on power. For a time it was all working. And the results came with it. But like most examples of under-performance and decline, it starts in your head.

And that's where it still rests.

The search for excuses is easy, and I have a good selection to choose from. There's a lot going on. This week has been very busy and crashing the car into a garage door doesn't help. Especially as it was all my own work. Or all of the other busy, stressful and complicated and things going on around me. I remarked this time last year that life seems to be getting faster and more complicated as I get old. Which seems to be a reversal of what I perceived to be the natural order of things.

I've always needed new experiences and get bored easily. And when faced with a cold wind, how easy is it to turn to the comfort of the TV and the sofa?

I'm not complaining. No, really. I have a very good life in comparison to 99.99% of the people on this planet.  I still have a life, a good one. I really know its preciousness. November 5th always reminds me of that. Yes, I meant the 5th.

So as ever, what's to be done. A rest? Some mountain biking? More music?

I'm not looking for your answers, well-meant though they will be. I'm trying to understand my complex, devious and clever self-sabotaging mind, and writing about it helps. This is not a time for incisive analysis through asking the right questions. I don't want platitudes, helpful but well-meant suggestions, or any parallels with your situation.

Only I can do this.

I might start by going for a good walk after breakfast. At least I'll be in the fresh air I purport to love.

Or I might just wallow for a bit. And dream.

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