It’s happening again…

"Two things must occupy your thinking powers to the exclusion of every other thing: first, the goal; and, second, the momentum requisite to reach it."
- Frances Elizabeth Willard, A Wheel Within a Wheel: How I Learned to Ride the Bicycle, 1895.


Cole told me all the cool kids wear #cutoffs over their #cycling shorts. I think he lied. #denimisaharshmistress

The Awarewolfs in action.

Join the Moon Cycle club on Strava! #stravaoritdidnthappen

Waah! :-/


Supermoon. by Shawn Harquail on Flickr.

can’t wait for fall.

Second time writing this post.

Saturday I rode 50 miles. It took 3.5 hours, averaging nearly 14 mph, burning 1,500 calories. This was the farthest I’ve ever gone. Instead of feeling accomplished, I felt fat, and awful, and weak, and numb. Instead of wanting to keep going, I wanted to give up.

It hurt. Not my muscles or lungs, necessarily, but my knees, my elbows, my neck. I thought, This isn’t a good exercise. It’s too hard. It hurts too much. I’ll do something easier, like jogging

I didn’t hear what I was actually thinking: You suck. You’re so fat. What’s wrong with you? No one likes you. Why do you even bother? You don’t even like what you’re doing; of course no one else does.

I didn’t hear any of that until a few people told me what I was saying was sad. I didn’t see giving up as sad; I saw it as inevitable. I didn’t see it for what it was: self-sabotage. 

This is what we do, right? We meet a goal that seemed far away and we get there and we aren’t as perfect as we wanted to be. So accomplishing it doesn’t matter because I wasn’t okay with who I was when I got there. 

I was ready to cry the last few miles off the trail and on the surface streets back home. After I passed the last major intersection before my house, I told myself, You’ll be home in two minutes. So I counted out 120 seconds in my head, focusing on the rhythm, ignoring the agony. What I thought was physical pain was in large part emotional. It was release. It was an exhalation of a decade of hating myself, while realizing that most of the time, I still do. 

But I’m getting over it, and I’m moving on. And that wouldn’t be possible without pushing myself physically. It sucks, and I say I hate it … yet, I obsess over it. And I want to do it again.

You can’t bicycle fast enough or far enough to get away from your past; but you can sit with yourself long enough in the saddle to be okay with who you are - and who you’ve been.


lcd soundsystem // home

'cause you're afraid of what you need
yeah, you’re afraid of what you need
if you weren’t, if you weren’t
i don’t know what we’d talk about

forget your past
this is your last chance now
and we can break the rules
like nothing will last

Yeah I definitely need these! @ House of Astbury