The Dirt Field

Whenever I think about making a plan, I immediately think “a man a plan a canal Panama” because it involves the word ‘plan’ and is a fascinating palindrome. It bothers me that “palindrome” is not a palindrome itself. Also, whenever anybody says “15 minutes” in any context, I can’t help but parrot, “15 minutes could save you 15% or more on car insurance.” It used to be something I would do impulsively, but now I do it because I’ve been doing it impulsively for so long that to stop would feel like breaking tradition. Whatever Geico is paying The Martin Agency, it’s probably not enough.

This is my brain on stress.

My life is currently a series of what we popularly call “first world problems”. (Add to that list an apparent inability to generate a thought that did not come from the Internet.) I want a pro cycling contract. To get that, I need to do well in certain big races. To do well in those races, I must be there. Getting there requires money and time off work. Too much time off work might lead to loss of employment, which impacts that whole money thing. Having a pro contract means I won’t have any money, so I need to be saving money. That requires having a job now. It’s all complicated. Then there’s the part where I own a condo that costs more than it is worth and two dogs that are worth their weight in gold but have not as yet begun to walk themselves while I’m travelling. Summary of all of these issues: I want to be more things than is possible. This is a first world problem.

But because I live in the first world, these problems keep me up at night and then, when I do finally fall asleep, I have disturbing dreams involving bikes and violence. Cyclists getting hit by cars, ax murderers at stage races, the usual. I am anxious because I have not made any concrete decisions or plans, and I have not made any of these because every decision is interrelated. Some of these choices don’t have to be made yet; I don’t have a pro contract, so I don’t need to worry about what to do with my dogs while I am away, but I do have to decide now where to race this season and that impacts my job which impacts my ability to save……..and on and on. So even though there is no immediacy to some of these decisions, they are all on my mind.

There’s more to this than I’m willing to discuss here on the Internet (put a historical marker here, folks, as this is the first time I’ve ever shown restraint), but the sum of these issues is that I feel unsettled and distracted. When every question is answered with another question, it bothers me. Normally I would cope with this stress by depositing my belongings in those charity dumpsters by the side of the road and drifting through life until the problems went away, but one cannot mindlessly drift onto a plane to Bend, OR; these choices actually have to be made.

While I am waffling, I keep ordering obscene amounts of Thai delivery. At least I am not stressing about what to have for dinner.

This morning came the point at which I decided to make some decisions. First, I told the promotor of La Ruta that I would not be using the registration extended from last year to attend this year’s event. While Costa Rica is the Best Place On Earth, somehow I can’t see taking off work, spending a ton of money, and throwing off my training to do an offroad race there in November. There is also the part where I don’t remember how to ride a mountain bike. It was hard to let go of that opportunity because it sounded amazing and was one of those things Imaginary Me would do (other things on Imaginary Me’s list include fluency in multiple languages, a surgical career, impressive dance skills), but it was time to stop debating and make a decision. So I said no.

Now I have other, bigger choices to be made about what to do right now and what it will mean for my future. Do I go all in now and hope it’s worth the gamble? Do I take a steadier course and trust it will work out in the end? Is wanting something badly enough a sufficient reason to go after it? Sometimes I think I want it all to happen right now if only so I can know whether or not it ever happens.

I like to ask people if they would want to know when/how they were going to die, if given the option to find out. My answer is no; knowing would change how I lived every day, would make each day so weighted and artificially significant. I’d rather just wink out like a candle running out of wick.

So why can’t I breathe easy and let things happen naturally now? First world problems. Nothing is life or death. To race or not doesn’t have to be an overwrought decision. It’s just like riding a bicycle. I can do that much.