The Dirt Field

As the racing season comes to a close each year, my rest month looms in the distance like a beautiful oasis. Free time! No suffering! Riding only when the urge moves me! Weeknights filled with dinners out, relaxing times on the couch, and glasses of wine downed with little regard for impact on training.

And then rest month comes and I realize that I am a cyclist and taking time off the bike is like taking time off from having a pulse.

Even in the hardest weeks of training, when the intervals are brutal and the rides take all of my free time, the exhaustion makes me feel more alive than anything. I like actively working towards my goals. I like feeling sore from a hard workout, starving because I’m training constantly, and desperate for a single rest day to recover a little. I like knowing that I can deep fry chocolate-covered Twinkies and eat them without guilt.

Soon enough it will be time to start training again, so I keep reminding myself to enjoy this time. I haven’t been on a bike since Sunday and there’s an open bottle of red wine next to me (sans glass). While I have plans to ride this weekend, I may only get on the bike once before then. Coach’s orders. Rest is apparently important.

I know that when winter training starts, it will hurt. The rides will be long and the weightlifting will be hard. There will be nights like the one last year where I came home from Pilates class, after a trainer ride and a session at the gym, and could do nothing more than lay on the living room floor with my face against the carpet. And while part of me dreads the endless workout obligations and pain that await, the other part of me can’t wait to feel that good again.