Grit

'Received some troubling news from my doctor a fortnight ago: I developed some kind of metabolic disorder. Among other symptoms, it has caused my metabolic rate to take a dive. As a result, I have very low energy, little appetite, and suffer from frequent bouts of fatigue and depression. This explains my inability to embark on long epic rides the past month. By 6 PM of each day, I am pretty much done, requiring stimulants such as coffee or strong tea to get through the rest of the evening. As of now, I am still reviewing my treatment options with the doctor.

That said, this is not going to change the person that I have come to be--that I am. I am leaving at 5 AM on a 2-hour drive up to Olema for one of my favorite rides: the Bolinas Ridge Trail. Never mind that it is remote (and is mountain lion territory). Never mind that I am doing it solo (as usual). Never mind that it is rated "very strenuous."

I will not be among the hollow men: paralysed force, gesture without motion; heads full of straw.

I have climbed and descended mountains at dawn, in the blazing noon, at dusk, in the depths of the night, through rain, sleet, snow, and hail--while others lumber up and down steps in air-conditioned malls.

I will not hang up my bike and be a dancing ape on club floors.

Life should be lived full throttle, or not at all.




Because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars... (Jack Kerouac)