Isn't she fucking gorgeous?! I love her.
Before leaving I put on quite a few layers, despite the sun being out in full effect, the air was still cold and it only gets colder once you get moving on a bicycle, but all I cared about was that the roads were clear and rideable. I threw Lucille onto my shoulder and left my apartment. I stepped outside my building, breathed in the crisp February air and got into the saddle. With my feet in foot cages I made my way onto South Temple and headed west towards The Gateway. Riding passed the Temple and City Creek the city was cast in the shadows of the taller buildings. This made for a rather cold beginning to my ride. Finally, after taking the underpass by the The Radisson I was able to find some sunshine and warmth.
As I said before, it had been a very long time since I'd taken a full fledged ride around the city. By this time I was working up a good burn in my legs and I was breathing pretty hard. After riding by a few of my favorite spots in the downtown area I decided to hop on 2nd South and make my way back home. This is one of my favorite roads to ride here in Salt Lake. I love the tall buildings, the traffic, the pedestrians, everything that makes a city accumulates in that area of the downtown and always makes for an interesting, fun ride.
I currently live on 1st. Ave and about 500 East. Now, this is the third time I'm going to mention that it has been a while since my last time out and about on a bicycle, but this is where I'm actually going to make a point out of it. I like to think of myself as a pretty avid cycler...in the warmer months. I lack the proper outfitting, gear, bicycle and the gonads to ride around with a fucking foot of snow on the ground. I give mad kudos to all the messengers and cycling diehards out there is that nasty shit. In the winter months you normally find me inside, in front of my computer watching nonstop movies, listening to music and doing other things I probably shouldn't be. This all started to catch up with me about the time I was headed home. I was breathing hard. Like, asthmatic hard. The cold, sharp air I was breathing in was making my lungs sting and the incline I had been riding up the last few blocks was starting to make my legs get that strange, noodley feeling, like they were about to give out on me. It was at this point that I really understood why I like cycling so much. It gives me a chance to push myself.
I'm about to go off on a bit of a tangent, so if you'll bear with me I swear I have some interesting things to say.
I moved to Salt Lake about two years ago without much of a plan. I had just finished school and received an associates in criminal justice. About 3/4 of the way through my degree I realized that law enforcement was not what I wanted to do with my life. I stress myself out enough as it is, I don't need meth heads and assholes coming after me or to see blood and guts all over pavement on a daily basis. In two years since moving I worked and climbed my way to a decent position at a local resale clothing store, had an awesome girlfriend and was just having fun in general. I was just soaking it all in, happy with the static pace at which I was moving. It was all fluffy clouds and kittens until the last part of 2012. I had quite a few major events happen, most of which were not in the least bit positive. I had quit the resale store and taken a pay cut which made bills, rent, etc. all the more difficult to deal with. I also broke up with the earlier mentioned girlfriend, had an old friend of mine pass away in a motorcycle accident, permanently amputated the tip of my right index finger working on a bicycle, given myself a concussion and bruised ribs trying to ride home shit-blasted drunk one night and simply just had terribly shitty luck. The whole situation was making me depressed, I wasn't who I used to be, I didn't know who I was and I didn't know what to do with myself. I considered moving home and I came very close to doing so. But something told me to stay in Utah.
With 2012 coming to an end very shortly, I was scrambling to find a place to live because my best friend and roommate Alex was in a tough spot and decided the best decision for him would be to move home. I luckily found a place and was set to move in on January 1, 2013, which meant I had to be out of my old place by midnight on December 31, 2012. The day finally came and with everything set in place a twelve hour shit show commenced, but I was able to move all of my stuff into my new place, and I even had the moving truck back before midnight and was able to make it to a New Years party with my friend Tj exactly 5 minutes before midnight. The day had been long, I was stressed out and tired but it was a success. I had a feeling of accomplishment and wore a smile on my face the rest of the evening.
If you'll bear with me for just a moment longer, I swear to get back to cycling and what I was originally speaking about.
I believe that this move was a big first step for me. Since the beginning of the New Year I told myself I wasn't allowed to have a shitty attitude about everything going on around me. I had to look out for me and the only way to do that was to keep my head up and keep moving forward. I had accomplished something pretty awesome and decided that maybe the best thing to do was to ride the buzz of this feeling out as long as I could. Since the first of this year, 2013, I have had more opportunity, fun, met and worked with more amazing people than I have in a very long time. I keep pushing myself and keep looking for ways to make more opportunities because I feed off of it. I plan more things than I normally would because I like the stress and planning that makes it all work out. I am finally realizing that the only way to make myself happy and keep focused is to take on as much as I can handle. Hopefully the longer I do it, the better I become at it and the more things I'll be able to involve myself in.
Now back to me on my bicycle, gasping for air, legs about to become useless jelly it became crystal clear that this is the feeling I live for now. Beaten and holding on for dear life I have to push forward. I don't give a fuck what my legs feel like, or how bad this air hurts making it's way into my body or how there is a fountain of snot coming out of my nose because of the cold. I'm going to keep moving.
Cycling is another opportunity for me to excel, to push forward, to make myself better.
Note: This entry wasn't meant to be about me, it was supposed to be about cycling in the terrible cold, for the first time in a long time. However, I have been wanting to write about the things in my past and it turned out that this was the best way for me to do that I guess. In all honesty it was a bit of a catharsis to write this, thank you if you put up with it all the way to the end.
