Friday, April 27, 2012

We Drink Our Own Blood.

I'm about to go race my bike for two days out Warny way.

Cross winds aren't what I would call my forte so this could be interesting.

Bathory all weekend.


Wednesday, April 25, 2012

These Streets Will Make You Feel Brand New.

The other day, while riding home from Sunday's Gravel Grinder, I found myself riding down Canterbury Rd.  It so happens that I was born in Surry Hills, and lived there until I was eight or so.

After passing my old street, and resisting temptation to take a left to check out my old house, I was shocked and appalled to discover how close my Primary School was.

My childhood memories, still fairly vivid, of walking to school with mum or dad, are of long intrepid journeys.  Having turned left from Broughton Rd, in my minds eye, the school is still a good kilometre or so away, possibly more.

But, as I discovered on Sunday, it's no more than two hundred metres.

And, once again, I am taken aback at how large the world seemed (and still seems based on old memories).  I haven't explored my old stamping ground for probably close to ten years, but my memory of it is as a labyrinth of lane ways, of tree lined streets, of the occasional dilapidated house are as strong as ever.  Walks with Dad to the park (which seemed miles away) were a highlight of the day, sometimes walking Raff the dog (our cousins dog that we would occasionally mind) who, being a dog of the early 90s, was named after the ninja turtle.  Sausage rolls eaten in cubby houses as torrential rain pours down, essentially trapping us from the relative comfort of my friends house.  Spring days in the sandpit, where the wind blew just strongly enough to rustle the brass chimes hanging from the back porch.

All these memories contained within what still seems like a small city but, in reality, were probably no more than a few streets wide.

I'm not sure I would want to go back, to be honest.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Time Has A Way Of Taking Time.

After I spent almost a week after the Baw Baw classic literally hobbling around, trying to come to terms with the shitness of my body, it felt pretty good to ride a pretty fast 140km on Sunday and feel damn good while doing it.

Turns out rest is pretty good for the body.  Who'd have thought.  It's an important reminder at a time when my obsessions are running hot.  Riding all the time is just going to make me tired.  Time for a little more rest, and a little more quality over quantity in terms of training.

There's a few changes up ahead for me.  New house, new suburb, maybe some new adventures.

I reckon riding my bike will be a reassuring constant.


Friday, April 13, 2012

Bleakest House.

Been a little quiet here of late. I've been writing a bit for The New Timer which I've very much been enjoying but, unfortunately, it often means I keep the more interesting topics for that blog because, you know, more people read it.

Been suffering a little from the full time work blues or, as it's otherwise known as, Real Life. Coupled with a frustrating feeling that my riding isn't really improving has created a slight struggle to be inspired to ride (or write, for that matter).

I've also, for the first time since I finished my thesis, had the urge to study/read/think. That's kind of exciting, because I was a bit resigned to having killed that passion for good. But it appears that it's back...which in turn makes work at a bike shop more than a little frustrating at times.

I've said that I want to spend the next year or possibly more dedicated to bike racing but, unless I get some kind of breakthrough soon, I think I will struggle to remain motivated. I'm a positive reinforcement kinda guy and just treading water doesn't sit well with me.

I can't work out if it's something I'm not doing, or something the Universe isn't delivering, or both.