My metaphor is questionable.
This week has been labeled "Hell Week", at least where my life comes in. I'm not reflecting on what I am doing; I am simply doing due to the lack of space-time to think, reflect, or really even opine. It's Wednesday, so I consider myself through three days of the 8-day Hell Week. I find it lamentable to live a life of important or fun activities and not experience them, to wish them away like days of a prison sentence. Yet, that's what I'm doing because the pay-off, which will mostly be my health, will soon approach.
p.s. Day went off without much of a hitch. The team won and tied a team from the upper division and instead of traveling some construction on US60 we took a detour through some horse farm country. Seems like I'm going to have to do a ride there this summer.
p.s. Well, I didn't have to suffer the last day, as the wife decided to drive down to the game and I stayed home with #2. I picked him up, and dropping him off again at 4.00 and picking him up later still. And to boot, I got about 30 miles of riding in today. Better. Getting better.
And then I rest. Actually, And then I ride.
(Notice that there is no riding in there. I have done a couple purely restorative walks in the morning on Monday and Tuesday. I even did bike errands on Sunday and rode with Dave the previous Saturday. I could barely do a 20-miler. I'm exhausted, fat and entirely out of shape. #SummerCyclingSeason)