February 4th: 181 pounds.
29 Days.
"Wrong mailbox!"
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There's a Saris recall. Heads up. A teammate and friend of mine "disengaged" from her trainer during the garage ride I wrote about in this space a couple of weeks ago. It started innocently enough, sounding like someone had dropped an armload of pots and pans. Yet it stretched into time, taking on the sonic urgency of a car crash - metal and carbon scraping and banging...and then I think a riser block scattered past me. I turned around and she was lying on the hard, cold garage floor in shock. Much as I had when I'd gotten cocky on my rollers in that very space once. The plastic bolt holding the leg on had failed, snapping and causing the bike to go crashing down to the right.
I think I'd take a crash on the road any day.
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Sorry for the lack of real content these days. A lot of angst and personal stress has led to a lack of creativity. Don't worry. You know what happens with poets and writers who experience angst and stress...they bore their readers even more than when they weren't writing.
All I will say is this. It amazing how the words you are saying and hearing can make you feel so far away from the person lying right next to you. It was literally like I was shouting across a canyon. Desperate to be heard. To try and make it across.
Thanks for all the kind words I've received from those who've offered. It is so comforting to know I have such good friends who care.
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