Socks

A song by Cake started playing. It was 4:15 am. My alarm was telling me it was time to check my resting heart rate (42 bpm), stealthily slide out of bed, and make my way to the espresso machine. I pulled a double shot and stood in the kitchen for a couple minutes, yawning and trying to decide if I would do (easy) an AE ride or (hard) Kilo Intervals. Evie, our Siberian Husky, whined as if to tell me to do the AE ride. I stretched and considered (very easy) climbing back in bed. A visit the bathroom to ponder further the amount of pain I was willing to endure was in order.

I decided to go with the AE ride; Kilo Intervals just hurt too much. I checked the tires and filled up a water bottle, annoyed that I’d forgotten to fill it partially to freeze overnight. Glaring at the freezer I sighed at my procrastination -- maybe I’ll fix the ice maker next weekend. Evie repeated the soft whine, no doubt wanting to go wherever it was I went every morning. Instead she was escorted to the backyard by a beautiful sleepwalking girl in pink jammies. As she passed, the wifey patted my arm to say good morning -- then returned to the dreams she had put on pause. Again I pondered heading back to bed.

I checked the time and pulled another espresso. Holding the button on the Di2 shifter confirmed that the battery was just fine. Sliding the water bottle into its cage I was now past the point of no return -- the ride was on. I made a trip back to the bedroom to wash-up, dress, kiss the sleepwalker, and reassure her that I would ride safe and be home soon.

Sitting on the couch with the coffee in hand, my eyes lazily wandered the living room. The cloudy skies produced a dim, muted morning light. The humidity in the cool air seemed to slow everything down a bit. I gazed at the clock and let my eyes go out of focus, then looked down at the shoes in front of me. And the socks that I’d laid atop them. Time paused, and the socks spoke.


They reminded me of the accident and resulting recovery period. Of the time the wifey was at work and I wanted to go try a walk but couldn’t put the socks on myself. When I leaned against the bed and stared at them with frustration; with anger. Angry that such a simple task was nearly impossible, that I couldn’t do what I wanted to do. That without assistance the walk would have to wait. Such a small thing, but it emphasized the reality of my injury and forced the realization that my recovery would be a long, boring climb with a headwind. Frustrated with the wasted time; sick of waiting; of being stuck; of being helpless. It brought me to tears. I hated the socks that day.

There are two things that I’m really good at -- being humble and being impatient. The socks forced me to deal with my impatience. They made me stop. They made me wait. They said, "Chill out dude, you’ll get through this and the end will be better. It would be great if you could manage to be just a little more patient instead of selfish and proud. Don’t be all ticked off about it; that’s how idiots act. And quit complaining about how things were better before -- you don’t know the future, so you really don’t know what the heck you’re talking about."

Or, if you prefer New King James:

The end of a thing is better than its beginning; the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit. Do not hasten in your spirit to be angry, for anger rests in the bosom of fools. Do not say, "Why were the former days better than these?" For you do not inquire wisely concerning this.

Ecclesiastes 7:8-10

We have a limited amount of time before we check out of this life. For me, impatience stems from an idea that time is being wasted. I’m (slowly) starting to learn that all time can be beneficial for growth, and therefore is not wasted. Finishing the coffee I glanced at my bike and then back down at my socks. I apologized for being angry at them back then. They chuckled, told me that I’m forgiven -- and that it was time to scrap the AE ride plan, man-up, and do some Kilo Intervals.


Last year I set a goal of 550 watts for a 1-minute Kilo Interval. At a couple high points in my training I came close, but never quite got there. Eight months ago, staring angrily at those socks I didn't think I ever would.


Now I have.