Well, the Voodoo is back. A new frame under warranty and no questions asked, so that’s pretty good of them. It’s weird to have the same bike but shinier and with the logos intact. The first ride back was incredible: suddenly, I could pick lines that required some precision rather than leaving huge margins for error. Every landing was like Tigger, bounding back up for more. Awesome fun.
But that was a few weeks ago now and now my motivation has mysteriously taken leave. Generally, I take it for granted that I want to ride. For fun, with friends, or in training for future goals. Occasionally, people ask me where it comes from or how I don’t get bored. There’s so much depth to mountain biking in making yourself strong enough for an event, in reading terrain, in understanding the dynamics of moving weight to get the effect you need, in all kinds of ways. But it is demanding. And sitting on the sofa today, as yesterday, that demand seems like an unnecessary hassle.
My last ride “ended” with a fall that hurt my knee a fair bit, leaving me without the strength in it to keep my leg in line as I pedalled. From there, I had to limp home with my tail between my legs and the snow in my face. I hadn’t felt like going out in the first place and had forced myself, expecting to wrap up warm, crank up the iPod, and find some rhythm once I was out there. My iPod wasn’t working (it’s not great to rely on such things!), and my riding was laboured until the fall, then it was just slow.
So, I’ve been indulging in doing nothing. Newspapers, TV, and tea. Feeling that little ball of steel forming inside me, waiting for the will to go out and ride like I need to in order to have the legs for the Tour Divide. It is coming, but today I’ll be cranking up the heating and keeping it lazy. Mmm… croissants!
