Life is Motorpacing

I'm gonna moan a little, so bear with me. I need a place to unload sometimes, so I'm going to do it here.

7 races, 5 cities, 4 plane trips, 2 long drives, 4 podium appearances, 11 days. I had over 200 e-mails in my inbox when it was done. The inbox is now down to 100, and I stayed up until 4 am last night getting caught up on 2 weeks of accounting, and monthly bills for the coaches. DVD orders are piling up, the Cycle-Smart International is in 6 weeks and I just started working on it today, I'm not sure if even have a race director. The Verge Series has started, there's a ton of coordinating to do, I have my own bikes to maintain, training, my own personal coaching clients on top of the business itself. Oh, and there's a girlfriend in there somewhere, and we've been trying to find time to talk about our upcoming move back to Boston, into my condo.

Right now, my life feels like a session of motorpacing. I'm at the max effort I can sustain, I have to hold the wheel, there are little rests and pauses but they're followed by big bursts to get back in the draft or punch over a hill. I like motorpacing; it feels good to go that hard and you get a lot of form from it. But it can crack you, too. And I'm really close to getting popped.

I don't even know why I paused to write about it. I don't even have time to moan.

You can ring my bell:

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