Retreat?
3.02.08
The state’s in a crossroads at the moment, and the worst of the lot is that I can’t say exactly which way to go. And when the case is as such it’s best to avoid making the decision yourself. As the Sun Tzu says the fight is chaotic, yet one is not subject to chaos. When it has rained upstream the stream’s flow intensifies. Stop fording, wait for it to calm. So I’ve outsourced the decision to professionals in the matter… Mr. md. It’s all like a big puzzle that makes a bit of sense when you match a couple pieces, but then no matter how you’ve gone about it, the last piece doesn’t fit… or goes to an entirely different puzzle. It’s almost best to grab all the damn pieces and throw ‘em out the window, go to the doctor and start anew. Perhaps it’s not fun or much for the confidence but it’s the way it’s got to be done and who knows, I’ll probably be better when the bout is over, just not content. You’ve gotta live your life like there’s one more road to cross, anyway.Before the world was in disarray I was scheduled to do Criterium and two French cup races before flying home on the 7th… despite my absolutely atrocious skills on the bike… with emphasis on my performance at Criterium, which pretty much cemented the looming feeling that Paris-Nice’s temporary lantern rouge status wasn’t due to an untimely and disastrous crash* on the second stage, but instead to a boding gastro dysfunction. At the time of Paris-Nice I knew something was wrong because just weeks prior I’d been riding like DMX himself couldn't stop me, yet there I was, in last place after 7 days of hell… when I was supposed to be the legend of hell himself… or so I’d thought and hoped; my confidence was so high that at times I’d float, but then there I was… decomposing in yet another crap French race. How could this happen when I’ve been waiting for this year all my life? The answer is that I couldn’t answer the question then ‘cause I wasn’t willing to accept that stuff was going downhill. Now I have to… because yesterday the team decided that I was going to accept it by buying me a ticket home and I’m on my way from Barcelona to London where I make a transfer and board a direct flight to Seattle. 9 Hours to sit staring at the seat in front of me with an occasional glance out the window at Greenland, Quebec, and Canada to think wow, must suck down there and decide that Ice’s got vendettas and when “they” really start talking I’ll be back and stronger than ever… so hold your breath cause its not over yet.
*I got x-rayed yesterday that revealed an avulsion fracture on my shoulder
The state’s in a crossroads at the moment, and the worst of the lot is that I can’t say exactly which way to go. And when the case is as such it’s best to avoid making the decision yourself. As the Sun Tzu says the fight is chaotic, yet one is not subject to chaos. When it has rained upstream the stream’s flow intensifies. Stop fording, wait for it to calm. So I’ve outsourced the decision to professionals in the matter… Mr. md. It’s all like a big puzzle that makes a bit of sense when you match a couple pieces, but then no matter how you’ve gone about it, the last piece doesn’t fit… or goes to an entirely different puzzle. It’s almost best to grab all the damn pieces and throw ‘em out the window, go to the doctor and start anew. Perhaps it’s not fun or much for the confidence but it’s the way it’s got to be done and who knows, I’ll probably be better when the bout is over, just not content. You’ve gotta live your life like there’s one more road to cross, anyway.Before the world was in disarray I was scheduled to do Criterium and two French cup races before flying home on the 7th… despite my absolutely atrocious skills on the bike… with emphasis on my performance at Criterium, which pretty much cemented the looming feeling that Paris-Nice’s temporary lantern rouge status wasn’t due to an untimely and disastrous crash* on the second stage, but instead to a boding gastro dysfunction. At the time of Paris-Nice I knew something was wrong because just weeks prior I’d been riding like DMX himself couldn't stop me, yet there I was, in last place after 7 days of hell… when I was supposed to be the legend of hell himself… or so I’d thought and hoped; my confidence was so high that at times I’d float, but then there I was… decomposing in yet another crap French race. How could this happen when I’ve been waiting for this year all my life? The answer is that I couldn’t answer the question then ‘cause I wasn’t willing to accept that stuff was going downhill. Now I have to… because yesterday the team decided that I was going to accept it by buying me a ticket home and I’m on my way from Barcelona to London where I make a transfer and board a direct flight to Seattle. 9 Hours to sit staring at the seat in front of me with an occasional glance out the window at Greenland, Quebec, and Canada to think wow, must suck down there and decide that Ice’s got vendettas and when “they” really start talking I’ll be back and stronger than ever… so hold your breath cause its not over yet.
*I got x-rayed yesterday that revealed an avulsion fracture on my shoulder
posted by Tom Peterson @ 9:53 AM
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