User

Date: July 1
Mileage: 30.4
July mileage: 30.4
Temperature upon departure: 56

Did I mention before that I am so, so happy to be riding again on a regular basis? Lately I've been eating worse and sleeping worse, and have been under more stress at work because of a recent exodus of co-workers ... but I feel so much more upbeat, optimistic and excited about the future than I did in March. It frightens me, actually - it seems I need cycling just to feel like a complete person. These past few months have taught me that I'm not just an avid cyclist. I am a habitual cyclist. I've crossed that dangerous line between recreational use and dependency. And even as I work toward my goal to become a more well-rounded person (I am still going to the gym and doing my PT stretches and building my quads and planning activities where I just use my feet), it's so easy for me to just slip on my touring bike and head out for a two-hour spin that will carry me through the day.

Before March, it would have been easy for me to deny my addiction. But four months of painful withdrawals and subsequent binging have me wondering otherwise. So today, I googled addictions.org for the signs and symptoms of substance abuse:

1. Seclusive behavior - long periods spent in self-imposed isolation: So I primarily ride alone. So what? I work a strange schedule and do a lot of my riding in the winter. Hard to find people who want to hang out with me ... even my own partner generally just laughs when I say "want to go for a ride today?" But during the 24 Hours of Light, when the party was really going down, there was pizza and debauchery and all of the things that should make a social human happy - and I was riding around, and around, and around in circles ... all alone.

2. Long, unexplained absences: So sometimes I tell Geoff I am going to go for a one-hour ride and it turns to three. It's so easy to lose track of time. Don't judge me!

3. Lying and stealing: Luckily, I haven't resorted to this yet. But if I saw a Pugsley propped up on a post and no one was watching, can I trust that my conscience would prevail?

4. Involvement on the wrong side of the law: Sometimes, when I see a stop sign, and no one is around ... I run it. Ok? I have a good average speed going on. Don't judge me!

5. Deteriorating family relationships: The last time I called my mom, it was her birthday. It was June 2. That's terrible. But it seems like these days, I'm either working, or riding, or attending barbecues. Sometimes I sleep. But I should call my mom.

6. Obvious intoxication, delirious, incoherent or unconscious: If you had seen me after I rode the Susitna 100 this year, you would have seen me exhibiting every single one of these traits.

7. Changes in behavior and attitude: Today I made a U-turn at the glacier and was headed down the road at 18 mph when a huge herd of Cycle Alaska tourists darted across the intersection of the trail to a parking lot, completely cutting me off. I had to slam on my admittedly weak brakes, and just barely yanked my foot out of my pedals in time to not topple over or slam into them. I was filled with a road rage I have not felt since I used to commute I-15 when it was being rebuilt. I was seeing red. I was incapacitated with anger. All for people who, regardless of how clueless they were, were my fellow cyclists. Afterward, I felt a bit ashamed.

8. Decrease in school performance: I used to be good at and had interests in other stuff that wasn't cycling. Now ... hmmm ...

The Web site goes on to recommend, "Always remember that any one of the above signs may not be enough to indicate substance abuse, but should be enough to suggest that there may be a problem."

I guess the only question left is ... where can I find help?

Perpetuation

Date: June 29
Mileage: 36.2
June mileage: 598.2
Temperature upon departure: 61

So Geoff just casually announced to me today that he is planning to line up for the Great Divide Race next June.

And, um, I think he's serious.

And, um, I think I believe him. It's one thing to say such a thing a year in advance. It's quite another when Geoff says such a thing a year in advance.

And I thought I was climbing way out on a limb by announcing in the midst of a knee injury that I'd like to ride in the Ultrasport race to McGrath next February. Clearly, I have no concept of ambition. That, and Geoff has no concept of prudence.

I'm not sure how I feel about his intentions. On one hand, I'm excited, because I know him and I know it's something he could excel at, even with the odds stacked against him. I also know that he would put his whole heart and soul into it and be gone for weeks, if not months, to prepare for and participate in the GDR. That should probably bother me ... that some dumb 'ol bike race is more important to him than hanging out with me, or that some dumb 'ol bike race is more important to him than building a "real" life. But I don't really feel that way. When I think about Geoff racing the GDR, I first feel empathy, and then envy. I think our relationship works because we're equally afflicted with the same misguided passions ... and equally self-involved.

June 2008 is a long way away. But I know - from the first time I thought it would be "interesting" to move to Alaska, or "fun" to ride 100-mile winter bike race on the Iditarod trail - that these ideas have a way of becoming self-perpetuating. It will be interesting to see what the next 12 months bring. But I already suspect (with relief, but also disappointment) that it's not going to be a mortgage and ceremony where someone smashes cake in my face.

Whew

Date: June 28
Mileage: 22.3
June mileage: 562
Temperature upon departure: 67

What a week. I feel like I've been locked in a dead sprint since the morning we left for Whitehorse a week ago. Every second of that "vacation" was about moving moving moving. Then, to make up for it, every second since has been about working working working. So I sit at my desk stewing in a steambath of my own sweat because I work in a building with no air conditioning - which would never matter, if the sun would just go down once in a while. The deadline crunch weighs down when I have nothing but fumes left. My vision is blurry. My mind is oatmeal. And, to top it all off, my legs and arms have turned into a colorful cacophony of scratches and bruises ... most from collisions I don't even remember.

The best one yet happened the night before last. Unable to sleep in my bed, I was thrashing to and fro on the floor, nearly unconscious, when I somehow kicked the iron base of the bed with a force I didn't even know I was capable of. After several eternal seconds of writhing and whining, I woke up enough to realize that I hadn't shattered my foot. But by then, the adrenaline surge had taken over. I was up for several more hours, reading New Yorkers and watching dawn grow brighter and brighter. It's a terrible biological joke ... the more fatigued I am, the harder it is for me to rest.

So I've been taking my breaks on the bike. When there are a dozen other things I should be doing - grocery shopping, laundry, dishes, unpacking - every pedal stroke is like a deep breath into a fog of soothing sea sounds. There are days when I can meditate really well while I ride, zoned in to ebb and flow and nothing else. I hit my destination and remember almost nothing that came before, but I feel oddly relaxed and rested. You would think that kind of feeling would come from puttering along out there, but that never seems to be the case. I check my speedometer and usually find that I ride faster than average when I'm zenned in. I think this is the case because when I'm conscientious, I do entirely too much thinking about headwinds and hills.

And I think about those guys out there pedaling the Great Divide route, and how even at my hottest, sleepiest, more stressful part of the day, they still have it so much harder than me. I think about that old cliche about how the worst day on a bike is better than the best day at the office, and I laugh because that's so completely untrue. I laugh, and I feel peace. And I ride.