Weakend

Woah, what a weekend.

There were ups, there were downs, there were thrills and there were spills.

I went into the weekend in a pretty doomy gloomy mood. Lately, I have been feeling exceptionally tired, irritable, short tempered, and dare I say it....a little depressed. Sort of like Supersized Extra Special PMS squared. Except without all the blood. I certainly have not been feeling myself, anywayAfter a hard day's work on Friday and a long uncomfortable car ride, we arrived at our cabin to discover that it was tinier than our tiny bedroom and hot and stuffy and we couldn't figure out how to open the security latch on the window and the cats were pooping and Michael was cranky...and I lost it.
After yet another night of tossing and turning, I showed up Saturday morning to contest the Masters District crit with my pals and teammates. I love my pals and teammates, but that morning, I could think of about 783 other things I would have rather been doing. Like drawing Jesus, or organizing the garage, or I don't know...sleeping.

I was standing around with that gurgle in the stomach and discomfort in your own skin that happens when you are doing something you don't want to. And then I talked to a good friend who had been experiencing many of the same feelings I was. And it was like mini group therapy with the relief and validation that comes with knowing you are not alone and not crazy. Well maybe a little crazy, but certainly not alone.

And the relief was extraordinary. Almost overwhelming. I rolled out on the course to warm up, stopped at a particularly scenic spot near a barn and gave myself permission to let it all out.

And once that was all done and over with, I felt a gazillion times better and ready to move forward.

Here is what I determined. I am done, stick a fork in me done, with training and racing for a bit. Normally the training and racing levels I have been doing would be okay...but coupled with the stuff going on with momma, I was thrown into the deep end. I don't think the body can distinguish physical stress from emotional stress and both break the body down. And this body is officially broke down.
So I did a couple of unremarkable laps of our road race before pulling out completely guilt free. And with that whimper I ended my season.

But I have no regrets. Thanks to our awesome team and my wonderful man, I had one of the most rewarding seasons I have ever had since I started this racing silliness.

I got to work my ass off for my teammates, I have learned to take a race into my own hands, I have attacked even at moments when I feel I am about to get dropped, I have gotten into winning breaks, I won a hilltop road race, and I have learned how to risk.

So now I'll plan Surf City, maybe think about racing cross, and I seriously CANNOT wait for next season.

~~~

Yesterday I saw my man crash. I do not wish that on anyone. Neither the crashing nor the seeing of a loved one crashing.

I was setting up to take a photo and through the viewfinder (I always use the viewfinder, never the lcd screen) I watched Michael come around the corner. Right before the moment that I was going to snap the picture, I saw Michael and his bike buck strangely to the outside and then slam violently to the ground on the inside. And then I saw him lay on the ground, screaming in utter pain.
Because I was looking through the viewfinder, my sight senses were heightened and those visuals are burned into me.

And they make me sick to my stomach.

I wish I could delete them.

I've been trying to override them with images of Michael in his skirt instead.

Because putting his shorts on after the crash was too painful, Michael just put on his little wraparound changing skirt instead.

And then we stopped at the drugstore for some Tegaderm and tonic water. And so there was Michael, with his crash induced gimp and limp, and his Strumpfelpeter hair, and his Safeway tshirt inside out, and his bella socks and tennis shoes, and his little purple skirt, roaming the aisles of Rite Aid in Watsonville. And if you are going to have a crash memory visual burned into your brain, I would rather it be that one.