The season has begun in earnest, though the weather has been incredibly bad here in Denver these first few weeks of June–daily tornado warnings, wicked heavy hailstorms. Plus, as usual, I am a very busy man, with classes to teach, kiddos to hang out with, garden plots to weed, lawns to mow.
Sometimes I wonder how much I would ride if I had no job, no home maintenance tasks, no kids, no worries. Every day? Twice a day? Or does this ironic idea exist somewhere in truth: you do it because you love it, and because you can’t do it every day.
Maybe I love it because each time I get out onto the trail, the suffering is pure and brilliant, and because it’s a precious and fleeting thing, something I have to fight for, something for which I have to sacrifice and stress.
It has value because it requires that I give up (or squeeze time and energy out of) other things: sleep, care, love, attention, writing, work, etc.
Just something to consider.