Time to fly

Today I passed an important ordinal; crossed an imaginary line; incremented a counter. I could pretend that such a thing doesn't matter, but to deny the importance of one arbitrary number feels like a denial of all, and what is competition but an exercise in sorting arbitrary numbers? There is plenty in life above and beyond measuring and ordering things, but I can't deny that there is also satisfaction in incrementing distance, increasing speed, and achieving a numerically low finishing position. 

So I reflect now on my first quarter-century.

 I am the first to recognise my own luck in getting to where I am now. 25 is not old, and to be privileged enough to have the money and time to race bicycles at such an age is a rare gift. If I am capable in a race, it is mostly down to my relative age, and to some degree my opportunities for training. At 25, I know that physically, things will never come easier - never again will muscle build this easily, fat so refuse to take up residence, and training so quickly provide results. My immune system is as strong as it will ever be, my bones are strong and my joints are flexible.

 This isn't to say that I won't or can't get faster or stronger - merely that I recognise that I am at a stage in my life where work towards any goal will never be easier, and if I fully apply myself now, I will set myself up to go the furthest I can possibly go down that path.

 This is my mantra for the year; what I must think whenever I am distracted or depressed. What I do this year will set me up for the next quarter-century. In work and on the bike, unalloyed focus now will allow me to enter full adulthood without regret or shortcoming.

 It's going to be a hell of a year.

 Good trails!