…THE SANTA. MARIA!
(Caution - The easily offended should veer off HERE.)
That one line from that one song has always had a crazy effect – it’s like someone stomped on in to my personal mental cave and started poking the ill-tempered bear that lives there. Belligerently. Willfully. Gleefully. Infuriatingly. Waking it up from it’s slumber and prodding it into a red haze of anger and pain, making it cast about for an outlet for its rage.
If you’re anything resembling the “40-year old 12-year old” that I am that headline makes the tribal drums in your head pound annoyingly where your demons lurk, rousing them from their uneasy slumber. I’m not talking about the demons of Excess, Incivility or Apathy, or the worst of all, the dreaded demon Entropy. I’m talking about the demons you once harnessed and ruled like an angry, vindictive and all-powerful god, keeping them in line with thunderbolts of will. These are the demons that made you the guy (or girl) you USED to be.
Remember? You used to be the rider that could drop a bag full of hammers on the weekly group ride; that could lever themselves out over the abyss, where angry clouds brood over thundering waves of lactic acid as they pound angrily against your own personal cliff of anaerobic threshold. You used to be able to pitch a flipping tent there. You were hard. Lean. Fast. Maybe you were the fastest. Maybe you weren’t. But damn-it-all if you weren’t the toughest. Nobody could outsuffer you. You were the physical manifestation of the railgun from Quake. Loaded up with testosterone and shooting to maim. You were bad-ass. Indomitable. The giver of hurt. The bringer of pain. The experiencer of joy.
That. Was. Yesterday.
In the physical universe we occupy and in adherance to linear time as we know it, perhaps that was a decade ago. Or even just last summer. Shoot – maybe you have yet to be that rider. Whatever. Glory is fleeting.
Don’t think that this is about podiums. About lording your dominance over someone else. It’s not. It’s about pitting your lumbering, malevolent, yet somehow useful mental beasts of burden against their equally powerful and omni-present enemies; Excess, Apathy and Entropy. It’s about using your troops to beat those foul beasts whimpering back into their caves. And the battleground isn’t on the road or on the trail. It’s in your head.
The bill for a successful summer is payable in advance. I know it. You know it. You can be that rider again. You can bring that balance back into your life. Not to get all Tony Robbins on you, but the choice is yours. Don’t overestimate what you can do in a week, but never, never, NEVER underestimate what you can accomplish in three months. Shoot – two months. And do you know what two months are? Eight individual weeks. One-by-one, step-by-step, but most importantly, one step at a time.
Do we have the stuff here to help you? You know that we do. Books, training guides, all manner of cycling gear…hell yeah we do. We’re the clearinghouse for the self-trained cyclist. Are we trying to get you to buy it? Who cares? It’s there if you need it, but we’re better served by converting you to full zealotry. By getting you to pound out 90 minutes of intervals on the trainer while sweat drips down your top-tube. By goading you into wrapping every inch of exposed skin in layer upon layer and riding your bike while the sheep cower in front of their TV’s.
So let’s do it together. I’m going to Sea Otter in 3 months. Today at 5’9″ I weigh 190lbs and am kind of built like Captain Kirk. So far today I’ve had two pancakes (no syrup), a bowl of split-pea soup, one chicken breast, one cup of cheddar cheese Goldfish crackers (we have two little kids) and about 26 ounces of beautiful hand-roasted coffee from my buddy Sinjin in Denver. Not exactly the dietary plan of champions. And I’ve done nothing physical all day. Meet me here tomorrow. Let’s compare notes. Because the holidays are over and the new year is here. The cookies are gone and hopefully you’ve passed some of that impacted rib roast from your colon. There’s no better time than right now to take the path less traveled. It all starts with one step.
Take it with me. Raise your fist and march around. Sleep now in the fire.
Meet me here tomorrow. I’m serious.
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