19 October 2011

Ten (Eleven) to go

Life has this funny way of moving ahead, doesn't it?

As I was clawing my way up Clawhammer on Sunday afternoon, it struck me: I've been racing for almost 9 months straight. Nine months -- in a year that opened with unexpected tragedy and is closing with unbridled joy. Calling my wife a saint doesn't even begin to describe it.

There are only 10 days to go; well, 11 if you want to be pedantic about it. I'm at that magical place where I can count the number of "hard" workouts on one hand before I'm done, where the lure of a bowl of ice cream or an extra helping of Becca's cheese grits overcomes the nose-to-the-grindstone focus of the winter and spring and summer months. It's a funny predicament though -- much like with skiing and mountain biking, you need to be extra vigilant of the "last run" -- you may have the fitness and skill to hit that downhill one more time, but you also may be more tired than you realize. Especially when your brand-new son is waking up every few hours to eat.

Double Dare looms large, and I'm excited to close out one of my most successful seasons ever with a fun romp through my favorite playground with a good friend. After that, it's a well-earned rest -- only one possible date in November depending on whether this guy decides to challenge everyone to a duel -- that should include some quality time on the home front and some fun-with-no-focus rides on the "brown ice" that is forming in the woods even as I write this. It'll be a great chance to try some new things, see some new-ish places, and revisit old standbys. This certainly hasn't been the easiest year, but isn't it only through adversity that we truly find our way forward?


clay said...

Let's do the duel. When you want to do it?

dicky said...

Let's hope that guy can't pick a date.

Chris said...

Clay, I'm in -- but all of a sudden November is looking nasty-busy. I'm free the weekend of 11/12-13 or the weekend after Thanksgiving. After that I think it'll be a crap-shoot whether we get snow in December again ...

Dicky, you in? 99 miles of Pisgah, no wooden nickles needed?