Crusher 9. Tomorrow.
I don’t know if I’ll be fast. I hope so. But I know that I’m not the racer I was a few years ago. But, I’ll try to be that racer.
Tomorrow, I’ll try.
The Crusher isn’t a bike race, however. For me, it’s become far more than that. The Crusher is a family reunion. It’s also a reminder that I can do hard things and that I have already done hard things. I’ve tethered myself to the Crusher like a stone pillar planted in the middle of the year. As the year goes on, I drift outward, aimless, sporadic. I lose my way. I always lose my way. But the tether slowly pulls me back to the center. Back to reality. Back to mountains and valleys. Back to rain and sun. Ups and downs. I come back to the Tushar mountains and I get crushed. But I get up, dust myself off, and I remember…
… the good days. And the bad days. I’m grateful for days. All of them. Even the days that leave me broken and full of fear. Maybe I’m especially grateful for those days. I survived them. I lived to see more days. More sunrises. More sunsets.
And some days, that’s as much as I can do.
But there are other days that I wish would never end. Days that I don’t have to remember, because instead, I am.
I am today.
Those are the best days.
The last 2 years have been strange and wonderful and also difficult and terrible. I’ve questioned the choices I’ve made. Often. I’ve doubted myself. I’ve spent sleepless nights wishing things – all sorts of things – were different. And that’s a fruitless waste of energy because wishing doesn’t change anything. Not the future. Not the past. I’ve berated myself for not being the person I wish I were. And you know what? That doesn’t work either. I’m still not the person I think I should be or could be.
But I’m trying to be.
I tried today.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will remember…
…the good days. And the bad days.
And tomorrow is going to be a good day.
Tomorrow is Crusher 9.