Another present

I did it again. Just tripped into another gumption trap. Here is what happened:

I am "researching" Robert Pirsig, JJ Gibbs, Plato, Suzanne Nowlis, Cadel Evans. Looking for clues. Commonalities that connect them, bind them, unite them. A theme. A thought. A passion. This interests me greatly and I type amazed that I have the collected knowledge of civilization at my fingertips.

After a rare spectacular summer day it is now raining hard outside my window, the smells of the forest, released by rain, is clean, fresh, the odor of green. It almost always reminds me of hope. Like sitting atop Big Sur at dawn gazing through the lifting fog (North) at the diffused road ahead.

I look at my watch. It is almost nine. Oh, no, my internal supervisor wails, getting late, back to work, there is lot's to do.

GOTCHA!

Gumption trapped again. Time/Place dissonance. I need to reprimand myself from inquiring into the metaphysics of quality in order to do what exactly?

Make (perhaps for once) a non-pity blog entry

Follow up with e-mails

Make some sales calls

Grout marble tiles in the new privy

Take Trixie's axle to Gabe for the wheel rebuild

Do some maintenance work on the new site

Drop of first/last check at the club

Restock the fridge with Session Black

Push Michelle's video

Write copy for September newsletter

Create design for new jerseys

Get in a recovery run at 5

Meditate

Finish the Gladwell book

Sleep

The trap is that I can only do one of those at a time, and anything that takes me out of the focus of my present moment activity is a deterrent to the quality of that act.

It applies to everything. Washing dishes to time trialing. Reading to racing. Eating to, ahem, the disposal of its by-products (see above grout line item.)

When we spin, that is all we do. I am not indulging in a dream about how fast I rode (or didn't ride) in my last race. I am not fantasizing about being draped in a gold jersey on a giant stage, holding a bouquet of flowers as French models kiss my cheeks. I am concentrating on every pedal rotation, every heart beat and every contraction of every muscle. I am centered on a balanced core. I hear the music as well as my breaths. I am alive. I am that. Simply spinning.

OK, I suppose I should wrap this up so I can get back to work. (Sorry, that was a test.) In closing,

The past we use for review. The future for planning. The value is in the now.

And here it is. Another present (with thanks to all of the above for their ceaseless inspiration.)

From Plato to Cadel, it's all about now.