I suited up and climbed atop my Trek 5200, locked into my CycleOps trainer, shortly after 5 yesterday evening. I had Ocean’s Thirteen, an old favorite, on the TV as I started to pedal. My speed sensor kicked in and I was off. Two miles later, less than ten minutes into my 45 minute ride, I looked down to see my Garmin’s blank face. Dead battery.
I had barely broken a sweat, but I stopped pedaling, climbed down, undid my Garmin from its mount and went into the bedroom to plug it in.
I never bothered getting back on the bike.
I’d taken Monday and Tuesday off already. Folks, I rarely take three days off in a month. I don’t have a clue what’s gotten into me lately – I took three days off last week as well. Six of eleven days off? Who the hell am I?
I’m thinking this is not quite as insidious as I’m making it out to be. Well, I’m hoping it isn’t. At some point last week I realized that I’ve been going for a decade straight, including through the winter. I ride every day I possibly can from March till December, often till January… why should I continue that all the way through the winter? Why not take a few days off? And so that’s what I’ve done. I’ve given myself permission to simply take some days off now so that when March rolls around in a bit more than two weeks, I’ll be raring to go.
The interesting question I’ve got a couple of melon committee members playing badminton with is this; do I have to worry about this current lack of “want to” being an aberration or an infection? The vast majority of the committee knows this is the former and says not to worry. There are a few pernicious troublemakers on the back riser, though… and I’ll have to keep an eye on them. In the meantime, honestly, the break’s been quite nice.