"A Process, Not a State of Being"

The older I get the more I realize that you cant really be happy with everything in your life. Its made up of compromises of happiness, and you constantly have to be moving things around and striving for different things and goals to be happy. Happiness isn't a goal to be obtained and lived once your there, but its something you constantly have to work toward, this process I've come to believe is happiness.

Happiness is like being in a big peleton. If your not constantly moving up through the pack, then you'll find yourself off the back.

My life has thrown me some things here and there the past few days to mix things up. Some good, some bad, but for the most part(even though I'm having enough bad luck to kill 14 cats) I think I'm doing okay. Enough Philosophy, for that check out Pat's Blog.

I mapped out a route yesterday in my area to find a solid good ride. I stuck to the map, and I found a killer loop with some great views and roads. Some of the loop Incorporated the Harris Roubaix course which is this weekend. Its pretty much the same as last year I think. Harris Roubaix is one of those races where you cant really go into it with too much of a plan. Flats are always a threat, and not to mention the odd crash here and there. Its really a race where you have to just keep on givin'er and hope for the best.

On the topic of bad luck. Coach Luc prescribed some intensity intervals yesterday. So while on my ride home I decided to do them around the neighborhood. With grades like 12-14% and twisty roads(picture San Fransisco) they are decent training roads.

So I'm riding hard and everything is fine. On the last interval I go around a corner(steep corner remember) my head is down and I'm going as hard as I can(95%) and BAM!!!!!! Right into a parked car.

"Holy shit, what the hell was that" I think. When I get up from the ground I realize I just hit a car. I look at the car. Car is fine, I'm all messed up. At first I think I broke my jaw as I cant move it and it super tight. "Whoa" I better get home(only 5 minute ride) so I'm riding....all loosy goosey and I see big splatters of blood dripping everywhere.

"What the hell" I think to myself and I check my nose, check my ears and face and cant find where its coming from. I realize my chin is cut. No big deal and I keep pedalling home.

When I get home I check my bike. I only ripped my bar tape, and bent the brake lever in, which is no big deal, wheels and fork seem fine.

I go upstairs to take a look at myself. My jaw is messed up. I cant bite or move it and my chin has a bigger gash than I thought. Hmmm I take a shower, and clean it out a bit, and my jaw slowly starts to get better. I cooked some rice for dinner as it was pretty easy to swallow.

Ten rolls around and Scotty get home. He says I should probably get some stitches, so off we go to the hospital. The nurse takes all my stats and I wait for about a half hour.

So finally I get in the operating table. A late 20's cute doctor walks in. uh-oh I think. This is trouble for a lonely cyclist. We start to chat, and I tell her my embarrassing as hell story and she laughs. Finally she pokes me with the numbing needle, which wasn't too bad.

After about 10 minutes she comes back and asks me if its numb yet. I quickly reply 'That's what she said." Oh yeah, I'm on tonight. She pulls out the needles. Anyone who knows me know that this is a big thing for me, and I start to get a little freaky, so she puts a operating cover over my eyes so I cant see.

During this I'm wondering why she asked me to take my pants off for chin stitches, but kept my t-shirt on. I don't really think about it, but then I realize why. I'm in for a whole lot of fun (This may or may not have happened)

So, she stitches me up, and I'm ready to roll. I have to go back for X-rays if my jaw doesn't get any better. I think it will be fine. She tells me not to shave for a could days, which gives me a perfect excuse to start working on the mustache. The Burt Reynolds/Rambo look is almost complete.