summer plans

yesterday someone in power camp asked me what my summer plans were.
yikes!
I could barely tell her what my plans were for today, for the rest of this week.
but this has been niggling at me a bit, because as I've told everyone and their dog, I am not doing lotoja this year.
yep, not.
I've done my five, I'm darn proud of myself, I'm happy with that, time for a break.
I'm not doing it this year.

well, not as of today.

last week someone mentioned putting a female team together, that she had a sponsor, that we could all do this, it would be fun . . .
I am resisting.

but this is what happens: if I don't sign up, don't plan to ride, what do I do? do I still do all those centuries, will I stop caring about how many miles I log each week? do I choose some other big ride as my goal, do I just start riding for fun, what happens to the susan who has done this for five years?
will I become someone else, a different person, where will I put my energy, my focus, my commitment, do I need therapy?

at this point I've committed to one ride, in durango, over memorial day weekend, the ironhorse classic.
that's it, no others, nada, no plans.
no plans.

which feels really strange . . . so I'm just sitting with it. it's early, it's only the beginning of february. I don't need to know what my summer will be like yet, I don't need to make plans, I have plenty of time.
so I'm sitting, waiting for inspiration, and will eventually fall off my fence and into one set of plans or another.
hey, lotoja registration is still two months away.

of course, I won't be signing up for that because I'm not doing it.
yep, not.

heartbreak

it was inevitable.
I knew it would happen, and I knew it would happen soon.
on wednesday I saw signs that it was imminent.
yet still, today, my heart broke.

on wednesday the road had been cleaned, swept, the hillsides pushed back, all of the tumbled-down rocks cleared from the asphalt. no snow remained, just the dusty red scrapings of rock. the twigs and branches and gravel were all gone, the hardtop clean and ready for, sigh, vehicles.

yes, the gate is open.

today I rode three miles up past the open gate, and was passed by eight vehicles.
deep sigh.

the good news is this: I no longer have to slow down as I approach the gate, ride off the side of the road onto the squirrelly gravel and rock, and ride through that little muddy puddle that collects after each rain, just to go around the gate.
let's see, the other good things are . . .

okay, I tried. there is really nothing else good about the gate being open.
it's just forward movement, notice that summer will eventually arrive, a sign that nothing is ever static. now I just get to look forward to that autumn day when the air is cold and the skies heavy when the yellow metal gate will once again be pulled shut and locked at the bottom of the road up big mountain. and enjoy all of the beautiful, warm, clear days between now and that inevitable november day.