I'll be done with exams in a few days...and with my study buddy getting me sick [thanks for licking my cup whenever I wasn't looking, Matt], I have't been on the bike in what feels like forev.
It's the last push. I'll be done...DONE!!!...before the week is out. Meanwhile, get out there and ride lots for me!
...from my rollers...
...is absolutely amazing.
Took an exam this morning and I have one coming up on Friday. Then Tuesday. Then sleep, maybe.
I'll be back Friday afternoon. Cross my heart.
Just a warning: this blog will becoming increasingly...boring...for the next few weeks. At least in the cycling department [which is the whole point of this blog, right?], due to finals.
However, it might be mildly entertaining in that can't-not-look-at-that-train-wreck kind of way. In moments of clarity and sanity, even I'm amazed at what finals can do to me. I woke up this morning to some pretty disgusting carnage.
My knuckles are still sore from typing nonstop for the past two weeks. And there's the final sprint to the finish which consists of a 3 hour exam where no one can manage to type fast enough to get every single issue out on paper. But that kind of fun starts in a few days. Until [and through] then, I'm apparently surviving off [bad] coffee and beer.
I got soundly hammered after drinking less than a third of that beer last night. I drunkenly stared at my notes, feeling guilty enough to try to study but knowing deep down that I was just staring at words that made no sense [although it's debatable if they make sense when I'm sober]. I looked at my rollers, decided that maybe I should wait until the Asian glow subsided to try riding my bike on them, and ended up passing out after just barely managing to brush my teeth.
Never much of an endurance athlete, I'm clearly losing the marathon that is law school [drinking this time last year would have been unthinkable...clearly my priorities have changed]. But the race is already on and I'm almost, almost two-thirds done.
And while what doesn't kill me might make me stronger, my apartment and bike are clearly showing signs of wear and tear [the resulting decrease in value, which, by the way, is not deductible from your income tax return]. I've been reduced to begging the Bianchi to last through the next three weeks [please, please pleeaaase don't break/fall apart]. The dust bunnies in my apartment get no comment.
Except, maybe, that it'll be May [12th] soon enough.
Last summer, I encountered my first pack of roadies.
Plodding home from work, mostly zoned out, a male voice behind my ear called out:
"On your left."
As those words hit my brain, I instantly found myself floating in a sea of matching spandex. Six or seven cyclists drew up alongside me before passing by effortlessly, as I struggled to hold a decent line. Oblivious to everything but the goal [wherever that was], they swept by in perfect coordination and cadence. The proximity to the adrenaline, pure abundance of power, and muscle leaving me positively dizzy.
It's true what they say. Roadies are fearless. A "me and my team" mentality that can verge on the obsessive, and one that takes a kind of neurotic commitment that I respect and admire. It seems like a mentality that forces you to build character, or at least learn how to Shut the Fuck Up and Deal. Because, as a friend once put it:
"Cycling's different...your heart won't give out before your legs do."
And it's so true. In cycling - any kind of cycling - you'll always hit that point where you're tired and panting, but there's just a little bit more hill to conquer, and while your heart's still functioning, the only thing that's not listening to you are your legs.
That's when my heart really wants to explode. The desire to do well/conquer/go faster...and finding myself with no go. I was useless last night, and these aren't days to be useless. I need to stop cutting out of the library before 10pm, stop desiring sleep, stop feeling the pain in my knee and the stiffness in my sciatic nerve. And, in a sad way, stop thinking about pretty much the only that makes me happy: bicycles.
These days are kind of like riding fixed, but brakeless, clipless, and helmetless, all that's keeping me from an ugly crash right now is a hope and a prayer. But as I attempted [in vain] to keep up with two cyclists this morning - a Ridley and a Guru that looked like it lacked a third dimension - I spotted a hawk clutching a dead squirrel. It was sort of oddly comforting, and changed my mood for the better as I coasted [freewheels are ah-mazing] into the library.
I still might need a big dose of fearless from Team Shut the Fuck Up and Study...but I have a feeling [or at least a hope] that I'm going to make it through finals in one piece.
I'm not gonna lie, I used to love that show.
Long after I stopped watching it, and after learning how to fully appreciate alcohol, I'd sometimes wishfully long for my own KITT as I stumbled into that infamous McDonald's in downtown Tokyo at 4am to wait until the trains started to run again. A car that would not only talk to you and advise you against bad ideas, but also come to your rescue? The idea of KITT still makes me wish I knew how to drive.
As the days turn warmer and longer, I ironically find myself wishing I had a car and the requisite knowledge to operate it. For the next few weeks I'm looking at very little riding, and a lot more late nights in the library. Until now, I had managed to escape the library in time for dinner at home; I left last night well after it was dark.
The good part is that there are fewer anxious drivers eager to get home and drive you over in the process. The bad part is that after 10+ hours in front of a computer, I can barely see, much less see in the dark. Add to that my simple desire to just zone out and I tended to forget that my feet were attached to my pedals. Despite my fears that the freewheel I'm on is going to make me both lazy and weak, I was grateful for the ability to sit on my bike and do nothing for once.
I'm already missing the sweat-drenched long rides home and the burning exhaustion in my thighs when I manage to finally limp through my door. The bright sun shining through classroom windows are an absolute tease and the warmer weather has me daydreaming of the all the riding I'll be able to do once finals are over.
Until then, I suppose I should learn how to use those rollers.
My finals are going to kill me.
There, I said it. No more deluded denial. It's now published and therefore a reality I'm going to have to face. Never mind that they're in May, but 4 law exams nearly back to back...that's sort of like having your brain put through a blender while you simultaneously get raped by an elephant.
When we got on the topic of finals, and it finally started to sink in how much my finals were going to fuck with my life, a friend gave me a sage bit of advice:
"Bend over."
At this point, that's pretty much all I can do. And I have been...just not at the library [yet]. With spring finally making its way to Boston, I've been bent over my bike, chin nearly touching my handlebars, and pumping my legs like my life depends on it, while my inner Rahm Emanuel screams in my ear [the infamous], "Don't fuck this up!!!"
Yeah I should be applying this mentality to my classes, books, outlines, briefs, whatever. Yeah I should just start sleeping in the library. Yeah I should work more efficiently.
But honestly, who gives a shit when it's this nice out?
[Happy St. Patty's Day to everyone!]