Sorry...I have been busy.

It happens...we get busy. I have had my entire life turned upside-down. My new job has me going into work early and training late. By the time I get food in my belly, it is way past my bed time. My spare time to write has been severely hampered by this transition I have been going through. Not to mention I have been racing on the weekends...nowhere near my home. I know..I know...Blah, blah, blah. You don't want to hear it.

Last weekend, I was racing in the Masters District Championships up in Woodfords. (Yeah, Like I knew where the effe Woodfords was). I threw my tent, backpack stove and sleeping bag in the car and drove deep into the Sierras on Friday night. I ended up camping somewhere near Kirkwood. It was a warm night with a ton of stars out. It sure felt good to get out and sleep under the stars. It is not the best thing to do before a race...but it sure beat trying to find a motel room at one in the morning in the middle of nowhere.

The race course was beautiful. Probably the most beautiful of all the races in California. Too bad it only had two mini-climbs in it. (Especially with the Sierras RIGHT there next to the course). I was happy because I made the winning break of ten guys. With one lap to go, two guys from two teams that had teammates in the break started fighting. I mean they were throwing waterbottles at each other, brake checking each other and yelling explicatives that I don't care to mention here (it's a family show...). I managed to tolerate this for about a half a lap before I got really frustrated and downright sick of it. It was bad enough that wherever I go, most NON-cyclists and even occasional cyclists treat me as if I am a doper because Floyd was deemed a doper, then we all must be dopers. To these people, I represent the entire professional cycling population to them...and so I must defend the beauty of the sport as much as it sucks.
Not to mention these are grown men, acting like a bunch of school children fighting over a dodgeball game or something. I finally rode up next to them after nearly getting taken out numerous times by their shenanigans and politely told them to grow up and ride their bikes. The only reply I heard was"Mind your own effin' business". So I sat up and pulled out of the race...not ever wanting to ever race my bike again.

In my mind, the sport that I love, the sport that has allowed me to recreate myself, the sport that has allowed me to make a difference in others lives is under severe public scrutiny for deep rooted corruption amongst the ranks. I am already feeling personally attacked for even being a competitor in the sport. And now, I find myself, on the most beautiful course in California, racing for a district title and these guys are not upholding the beauty of the sport and the true spirit of competition. I mean really, we are not racing for anything other than the joy of the experience and your name on a sheet of paper that says for one split second in time, you were the fastest. In reality, while trying to impress others, nobody gives a shit. You are really only impressing yourself...and if you believe differently, you are good at lying to yourself. They are not racing a smart and tough race, instead, they are making asses of themselves and ruining my experience in the process. You would think better of grown men...in all regards.

After collecting myself while sitting by a high Sierra stream on that afternoon, I realized that my journey is really up to me. I can allow them to ruin it or not...it's my choice.
I choose to continue on my journey that I dreamed about, decided on, planned for and have lived everyday since.