Fragmented me or I cannot ignore reality...

I would like to think if anyone ever were to write the story of my life it would be me...or atleast the guy who wrote Obama's autobiography.  Well, if The Bell Jar could have been written by a man it would be called The End of the Road--and it's not exactly a happy tale.  Apparently this is where I should stop writing because it's about to get very personal--and probably random and vague.

I have a rule about making life decisions.  If I am swimming in a sea of confusion I do not make any choices.  I just freeze all decisions of all magnitude except for the ones that are immediate for day-to-day living.  However, let's just postulate that this mantra is not always effective.  I once wanted to break up with someone and I decided to wait until after the holidays...and now look at me, divorced seven years later.  Was it the right decision?  Was it a calculated decision?  Would my life look like it does now with allowing the more dangerous and careless aspect of my personality do a little bit of driving?  I'm really not sure.  I know that I am happy.  I know that the dangerous place in my mind that acts without thinking does not take any crap from anyone.  I know that I am not going to deal with being treated poorly--maybe it is the solution.

Also does anyone think I only posted a post about dirt roads to make a little bit of space between two posts?  I'm sure it does not look like that, right?

Dirt roads

Turning down my first dirt road on my new bike was some kind of undiscovered and illicit pleasure that I have never really understood.  I found myself stuck between two points staring at a path that I thought was paved...and in my mind it was covered in asphalt, but in reality was nothing but a dirt road.  I debated finding some kind of alternate route as I did not really want to ride the new bike off road, but I caved into my desire to get home before the rain.  As I gingerly rolled down the trail and watched the mountain bikers and runners pass by I found out it's actually fun.

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and...

Alright, let's just get into this one.  If there was a singlular subject I should not post on the internet on my secret blog (that only serves to give me some amusement), it would be the beginning of a new relationship.  I mean, let's face it--it's kind of a delicate issue.  In April I swore I would never do this relationship thing ever again...but here I am, writing about one.  So what should I say?  One thing I will say is in order for me to be excited about spending time with another person they must be pretty spectacular.  And wonderful in a fashion that is like an increase in powers from ten-to-the-one to ten-to-the-sixth because that is what it would take for me to love someone.

What I did not expect was to see someone and be speechless.  What I did not expect was to find myself in the middle of some kind of fairytale romance.  I never dreamed that I would dream again, but life is surprising.

Hello sharp tan lines, good bye spin class!

I have decided that buying a new bike is much better than paying for your cheating spouse's tuition! I ended up getting the Trek Madone 5.2.  I demoed a BMC TMR01 and it is like the TMR01, but it rips up hills!  It's so stiff that it took about five miles to adjust the force of each peddle stroke pushing the bike around!  It's not the Madone 6 series I have been eyeing, but honestly...I would be afraid to ride anything lighter than this bike.  I'm actually a little bit scared of it right now.  I did not realize how light it was until I lifted the bike and it felt like it floated into the air like a balloon.

So tonight I'll sleep well eagerly waiting for morning and a nice long ride to get my legs and my bad tan lines back.  

Let's be honest...

So I have been dating.  It is much different than I remember it being.  In the mid 2000's it was pretty fun to go on a date.  Yeah, you might not be completely compatible with the person, but people remained courteous to each other until the end of the date.  Now...I go on dates and if that person is not perfect I still remain polite until the end of the date.  I will still text and say I had a nice time, etcetera.  Only in this modern time all the old rules are out the window.  For example, you could possibly go on a date with someone that is completely unattractive -- from the magic of ten-year-old photography and a lifetime of facebook selfies-- and that person will have the audacity to be rude to you!  

Not subtly rude, but overert and direct towards you obvious dissappointment.  So I have made a list of things to not mention on dates out of fear of twenty minutes of uncomfortable-forced conversation...or having to fight the urge to excape through a fire exit:

Being a parent: yes, they say they want kids...but what they really mean is they do not want to look like a selfish person avoiding responsibility.

What being a parent, or having children is really like: if you don't know then you really don't know...

Money: almost completely unavoidable.  If they do not straightout ask you they will size you up by the car you drive or the lack of a peace sign on your key chain.

Your Ex: Repeat after me, "we are still great friends." Yeah...she cheated on my with an old dude, told me what his reproductive organs looked like and how unsatisfying it was, blackmailed me, extorted me with our daughter, and now currently uses her a hostage to keep a small trickle of income rolling in every month...but you just love her.

All that stuff after "We are friends": No one wants the damaged goods that you are! You're previously owned now and you do not want to stick the carfacts to the windshield, unless it's a good carfacts--which is impossible because you are divorced.

What am I running from?

So I was offered an interesting question in response to my love affair with my bicycle: "what are you running from?"  Well the truth is-I am running from a lot.  Most importantly I am running from myself.  I am running from all the demons in my ear.  I am running from the little voice inside me that doubts I can do it.  I am running from my seething anger - and rage - resulting from my slightly predictable but not so fun divorce.  I am running from the bottle.  I am running from the ice cream.  I am running from work stress.  I am running from my love life or lack there of.  I am running from my doubtful self.  I am literally running from a little bottle of pills that turns off my personality but would probably prove to be quite nice right now.  I turn the cranks to my bike and all the noise shuts off.  I point the wheels and forget about all of it for as long as I can and enjoy the ride.

Moving on...

Okay...so I haven't even touched a bike in over a month and I'm sitting here picking out races.  What. Is. Wrong. With. Me. Really though, I am really out of shape and I'm trying to figure out how many days I'll need to atleast survive.  Of course I'll be racing against riders with an entire summer and race season in their legs.  So what is that word again...huberis? Yeah, totally an appropriate thing to be doing.   Oh well, it's not like I really care if I get spit out the back of the field.  I'll just pretend that I have been riding 130+ miles a week and maybe my legs will fall for it.  Instead of "shut up legs" it'll be "trust me legs, I've been here all summer."