chapters end, scenes draw to a close.
and in books and movies, the transition is often nonexistent. the next chapter opens in a new location, at a new time, or with a different group of characters, and the story jumps forward.
then there's real life.
chapters end, scenes draw to a close, and then we wake up the next day just minutely moved from where we were the day before.
we take longer to adjust to changes; we go through transitions and spend time regrouping before we can be fully present, both feet on the floor, in our next scene.
I am regrouping.
my focus for the past few months has been (a bit too narrowly, albeit) on lotoja.
I laughed about it with other lotoja riding friends: we tend not to plan anything past the race date. it's like all of our thoughts and energy are engrossed in this one thing, and other plans just drift about, staying untethered until the lotoja date pulls itself nearer and nearer and finally crashes into us.
it's not that we don't participate in daily life, it's just that bigger things get put on hold. bigger things like what should I do with my life? should I get a new job? should I start that addition on my house now? or should I move? what fabulous plans can I create that will further my relationships, my career, my spiritual life . . .
such plans as these take energy and commitment and focus and thought. and when all of those vital pieces are wrapped up in achieving a different yet significant goal, we tend to put those thoughts and plans on the back burner.
and regrouping pulls them frontward.
so this week (after the first couple days of somnambulistic existence) I have been slowly gathering the farflung pieces of my life and reeling them gently and carefully back in. it's time to make decisions about how I move forward, it's time to put my creative cape back on. it's time to start sowing a few more seeds and reaping from the seeds I sowed in the past.
it's time to give ruby a little break.
wednesday morning I rode up emigration for the first time since lotoja. it was a windy day, and the headwinds didn't let up until the last mile and a half from the top. I had planned to ride easy, but found myself having to push and not being able to keep myself to a more leisurely pace. energy wasn't leaping from me, yet it felt good to ride.
a little part of me still wants to stick to my pre-montpelier plan of never riding my bike again, but I realized during wednesday's ride that I am not yet meant to get off my bike.
for whatever reason, riding is still an important part of my journey.
this hit me like a thunderbolt---a gentle one---the concept that it's not yet time to stop.
so I suppose I'll keep climbing hills and swooping down, visiting my favorite canyons and challenging myself with length and grade. but now there will be room for those other pieces of me as well. I will return to being a patchwork of all those different existences, not just a cyclist with a few squares of fabric hanging on by threads and flapping in my slipstream.