The weather supposedly will hold for this weekends big ride, the Kitsap Color Classic. I plan on filming so if you see Bluey, a semi-vintage Volvo 780 GL with Trixie, my trusty, loyal and faithful fixie hanging on for dear life from the rear bumper, and a Contour GPS camera suctioned to the right front head light, go ahead and wave (or weave). As the testing continues, I am trying out a new long course capture technique, using a 12 volt battery adaptor to provide continuos power to the new 32GB micro chip. All meaning, that I should be able to film and simultaneously capture accurate and seamless elevation data, 64 miles in one take. Going to start around 11am or so, after another hilly big lap deuce, eight miles of running torture in Suquamish and into Kingston, thereby saving time and hopefully keeping riders in the field of view the entire course.
How about those two for classic examples of run-on sentences?
Run on.
And on.
This afternoon I was forced into examination, once again, of a pet theory of mine. The one about losing actually masquerading as winning. Taking a cue from Hollywood, where conflict is king, I used the example of Rocky Balboa. Remember when Rock got beaten to a bloody mess by Apollo Creed? Of course you do. He could have quit. He was actually counseled to. The people that loved him begged him to quit. Once the hemorrhaging subsided, he was faced with 'the moment of truth'. He had to make a decision. Go home or get back in the ring. There was no other choice. Maybe is a weasel word.
You know what happened.
He started back in training. At oh-dark thirty. On a mission. At that very moment he transitioned from loser to winner. THAT very moment. Everybody in the world, Philadelphia included, knew what was going to happen. But the Rock still had to perfectly prepare for the rematch. That perfect preparation is what we call the path. The process. The sacred journey. Only to Hollywood did the outcome matter. Rock was a winner, and it took first losing to get there.
As many races as I have lost, as many battles as I have ended up on the canvas, and as many defeats, setbacks and disappointments as I have endured, one thing comes clear:
They make the success' and the victories sweeter. They keep me going. This attempt, at getting better, improving, staying in the power of the now, I believe to be the goal. Not the outcome. If I have done EVERYTHING right in preparation, the contest is a celebration. Until there is no such thing as losing. It's all the path to winning. A part of the process.
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