I don't know why acupuncture works, but it does.
Sarah, my acupuncturist, is an angel. I'm sure of it. I rode over to her office into a raging headwind, tired and beat up. Was crying before she ever had a chance to ask me how I was doing.
Ten minutes after she had put the needles in and covered me with a soft blanket, an amazing thing happened. A wave of warm calm washed over my body. I no longer felt like I was walking a knife's edge between normality and hysteria. It was a little piece of heaven.
After my appointment, I rode over to River City and spent an hour or so strategizing on how to best blow through my bonus money. Rode a few different carbon race bikes and got to sample the difference between dura-ace and SRAM red. Man, I can talk shit for hours about bikes. And most the time, I actually know what I'm talking about.
When the weather broke, I quickly packed up and headed for home. Three-quarters of the way up the final hill before home, I realized with a start that I hadn't thought about him for 15 minutes. Hadn't been trapped in a memory. Hadn't asked why, even once. I was too busy thinking about SRAM shifters and carbon handlebars.
I had hours of similarly blissful peace this afternoon. Around 11:30 this morning, I decided to convert my cyclocross singlespeed into something suitable for cold weather road riding. All by myself. Bought some all-weather tires, fenders and a 45 front chain ring. I sat down at 12:30 PM with my tools, bike maintenance book and a bottle of Celebration Ale.
Two basketball broadcasts droned on in the background, the details not breaking through my concentration. I was filthy up to my elbows, my back ached and I could still taste the salt on my upper lip, leftover from my morning ride. I'm sure that no human being has ever taken so long to figure out how a chain tool works, then actually use it properly. By four o'clock there existed on the floor a mess of tools, dirt, chainlinks, bolts and garbage unlike my condo has ever seen.
There also existed in front of my eyes a monster of my own creation. A sparkling clean commuting machine with the perfect number of nicely tensioned chain links, close-fitting silver fenders, pink bottle cages and a stem that would ensure that my shoulders would not ache during a long ride. And I had done it all by myself.
Suck on it, menfolk. I am BACK.
Despite all of this, I am still cycling though negative emotions. Now its paranoia. I woke up in the middle of the night last night, sat straight up in bed and knew, with the absolute certainty that only comes with weird dreams and four Manhattans, that another woman was the reason he broke up with me.
That feeling has lingered with me throughout the day. Especially while we hammered through the rain this morning. Every time I wiped the road spray off of my glasses and out of my teeth, I felt a deeper contamination. I not only feel cheated, I feel cheated on. Although I will be the first to admit its bred from confusion and a lack of information and an overactive imagination, there is this feeling in my gut that I just can't shake.
But I don't let those feelings don't linger long, especially after I open up the Specialized website to start making my wish list for 2009. I may or may not have been a good girl, but Santa is still going to leave hella treats for me this year.
Sarah, my acupuncturist, is an angel. I'm sure of it. I rode over to her office into a raging headwind, tired and beat up. Was crying before she ever had a chance to ask me how I was doing.
Ten minutes after she had put the needles in and covered me with a soft blanket, an amazing thing happened. A wave of warm calm washed over my body. I no longer felt like I was walking a knife's edge between normality and hysteria. It was a little piece of heaven.
After my appointment, I rode over to River City and spent an hour or so strategizing on how to best blow through my bonus money. Rode a few different carbon race bikes and got to sample the difference between dura-ace and SRAM red. Man, I can talk shit for hours about bikes. And most the time, I actually know what I'm talking about.
When the weather broke, I quickly packed up and headed for home. Three-quarters of the way up the final hill before home, I realized with a start that I hadn't thought about him for 15 minutes. Hadn't been trapped in a memory. Hadn't asked why, even once. I was too busy thinking about SRAM shifters and carbon handlebars.
I had hours of similarly blissful peace this afternoon. Around 11:30 this morning, I decided to convert my cyclocross singlespeed into something suitable for cold weather road riding. All by myself. Bought some all-weather tires, fenders and a 45 front chain ring. I sat down at 12:30 PM with my tools, bike maintenance book and a bottle of Celebration Ale.
Two basketball broadcasts droned on in the background, the details not breaking through my concentration. I was filthy up to my elbows, my back ached and I could still taste the salt on my upper lip, leftover from my morning ride. I'm sure that no human being has ever taken so long to figure out how a chain tool works, then actually use it properly. By four o'clock there existed on the floor a mess of tools, dirt, chainlinks, bolts and garbage unlike my condo has ever seen.
There also existed in front of my eyes a monster of my own creation. A sparkling clean commuting machine with the perfect number of nicely tensioned chain links, close-fitting silver fenders, pink bottle cages and a stem that would ensure that my shoulders would not ache during a long ride. And I had done it all by myself.
Suck on it, menfolk. I am BACK.
Despite all of this, I am still cycling though negative emotions. Now its paranoia. I woke up in the middle of the night last night, sat straight up in bed and knew, with the absolute certainty that only comes with weird dreams and four Manhattans, that another woman was the reason he broke up with me.
That feeling has lingered with me throughout the day. Especially while we hammered through the rain this morning. Every time I wiped the road spray off of my glasses and out of my teeth, I felt a deeper contamination. I not only feel cheated, I feel cheated on. Although I will be the first to admit its bred from confusion and a lack of information and an overactive imagination, there is this feeling in my gut that I just can't shake.
But I don't let those feelings don't linger long, especially after I open up the Specialized website to start making my wish list for 2009. I may or may not have been a good girl, but Santa is still going to leave hella treats for me this year.
4 comments:
Just stumbled across your blog. Sorry to hear 'bout the man, but bikes are good therapy! Good luck with both.
Impressive.
Hope the cold snap is as beautiful as it is irritating.
:)
Awesome Linds...did you get a new bike???!!! I was at RCB yesterday, too bad I didn't run into you. I know how overactive imaginations can be deadly especially when you wonder what the hell the other person is doing. Keep your head up. Hopefully, I'll be back in the saddle (literally) next weekend and get some riding in with y'all.
love ya,
mo
Genghis-loved the singlespeed website. And thanks!
Goat-the only thing that was irritating is that i had to come into work to get online. I'm sort of liking having an excuse not to exercise.
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