Inspiration can come from many a place. Sometimes one can find inspiration in a book, a movie, an act of kindness, a smile from a passing stranger, anywhere really. For me, this past week, I found inspiration in a feeling … the feeling of guilt.
My mother in law was in town for the last week. She is a sweet and lovely lady. I enjoy her company. And while my usual ride time occurs directly post work, smack dab in the middle of the afternoon, last week it was not to be. As Fate would have it my kids were out of school last week for “ski week” even though there was no snow. My wife, too, was out of school. My house was a clutter with family members, a veritable moveable feast if you will. And while my usual escape, the bike, was begging me to oblige her and get out and ride it was not to be. My immediate need to be a dad, a husband, a son in law, a patriarch so to speak won out. I could hear my whips beckon me through the garage door, but their calls went unanswered. I kept telling myself the rest would do me good, that one more beer or glass of red wine wouldn’t kill me or make me loose all of my form. But my head, the voices in my head, would not leave me alone. ‘You should be riding,’ I would hear. ‘Look at how beautiful it is outside. You should be riding, fool,’ the voices told me. And with each passing day of sunshine and lack of exercise the guilt would build. I swear I could feel my pants getting tighter, and not in that good way. I could feel my jowls sagging with each chip that passed my lips. I could feel my skin dry out with dehydration with each sip of libation that slithered down my gullet. Soon, I was overwhelmed with guilt, a bloated tick fat … and happy … and feeling guilty. And with that guilt I found inspiration.
So, here it is Monday. A new week. A clean page. Tabula rasa, my friends. And my guilt and I have hatched a plan, made a list, checked it twice, took 2 days off from work at the end of the week. We, my guilt and I, have planned our own little training camp of sorts. Come Wednesday, hell or high water style, I aim to be hydrated, rested, fueled and ready take full advantage of the sun and the time and clock some serious saddle time.
I feel good about this coming week and the things it holds for me. I feel good about turning my guilt into motivation. I feel good about spending the past week with my family. It feels good to know that I can take what some deem a negative emotion and put it to some good use. It is good to feel rested, too. Wait. Screw that. I want feel pain, that sweet kind of depleted tired that comes with many miles on the bike. And that, my friends, will come to fruition.