When it comes to fitness, I’ve always struggled with Ricky Bobby Syndrome to one extent or another:  If yer not first, yer last.

Now, I’m fast but when I look at me up against those who race bikes, for fun, I’m not all that good, nor do I want to put in the work it takes to get that fast.  In fact, I have no desire to work that hard, it’s not even fun after an hour or two.

And therein lies the rub.

I’m not fit enough to roll with the racers but for 15 or 20 miles (depending on conditions) but I’m more than fit enough to be a contributing member for the guys I do ride with.  The question becomes, is that fit, or am I just phoning it in, just at a level vastly higher that the average American?

When it’s all said and done, I do this to myself every spring.  I get all existential with how far I’ll be willing to go to get or stay fast and I question where I’m at.  After a while I get to feeling a little guilty about how much I expect of my daughters and how hardheaded I am on this blog…  After all, if I have second (third and fourth thoughts), how can I expect anything out of someone else?

Then the weather will break (actually in about a week, according to the weather channel).  The sun will finally come out from hibernation, it’ll warm up and all of this stupid thinking will come to an end and I’ll just get it done.

That won’t change the overall gist of my consternation though.  In the end, I’ve conflated being fast and being fit.  Being fit isn’t about how fast I can ride a century or who I can keep up with on Tuesday night.  Being fit is about being a good, healthy weight and being active in order to maintain that…  Being fast, on the other hand, is beyond just being fit.

Either way, I don’t think there’s any doubt I’m thinking way too much this morning.