Get on the Damn Plane

It is amazing how quick this race arrived. I knew it was close but life kept creeping in and diverted my focus. The onset of my injury only complicated matters even more. Life + injury developed a negative mindset about it all. I didn't want to go on the trip. My focus quickly shifted from racing in a World Championship race to that of figuring out some of life's greatest mysteries.

I have never been one to shy away from controversy or taking on too much. I tend to perform best under a bit of pressure. However, pre-Belgium I hit my max. A few weeks ago, I seriously thought I was on the brink of a breakdown. Once those clouds began to part, the true stress of life set in. I was overextended.

I had a grande plan a few months ago. It was about to play out but there were and endless number of complications and problems. The biggest problem--I was running out of town. Out of the blue, work became extremely busy at a time when I needed flexibility. My lease was up on my apartment and my plan to purchase a home fell through. I couldn't come to terms with signing a lease. Plus, I HAD to move by the time I left. Additionally, I was trying to end a relationship with a woman that chose to use a vulnerable time to go psycho on me. Great. A vacation is what I need....but not to Europe to race.

I forced Coach Dan to come over before I left. I was freaking out about the race. I couldn't perform simple functions like packing and planning strategy or nutrition. I was paralyzed. The great thing about hiring a coach is that you pay someone to think for you. This has been a learning process as I haven't wanted to let go of the decision making. But that's his job. He got me set for the race...prepping me mentally and physically. I just needed to get everything done and get on the damn plane. That was my mission...just get on the damn plane.

The days leading up to the departure were pure hell. I had logistical nightmares left and right. My storage unit reservation was canceled without my knowledge. Imagine dealing with that 3 hours before your movers show up. I called an attorney friend because I thought for sure I would be arrested for going ape shit on the manager.

Moving took much longer than I ever anticipated. Despite hiring movers the crap never ended. I went to bed at 3 am the night before I departed and woke at 5:30 the morning working for 6 straight hours.

My boss called a 4 pm staff meeting the day before I departed. I needed that afternoon to finish all the little stuff.

Poor Dan had to deal with me at 11 pm the night before help me breakdown my bike and pack it. Flying with your bike is a scary process. Thousands of dollars carefully stuffed into an oversized piece of luggage. And you know how they handle luggage.

How bad was my anxiety the day I was leaving? How about I had to buy new running shoes on the way to the airport. My other pair put a blister on my foot the day before I left. I put the shoes on and walked out of the store with them one because I was packed to the max.

Then I had a meltdown at the airport. I had to put one thing into my bike box. I couldn't get it open. Seriously. I couldn't get it open. I managed to wedge it open enough to slide what was needed. Then I couldn't close the final clasps. Wow. I really can't believe Homeland Security didn't arrest me on the spot. I was loosing it. I couldn't get the box all the way closed. Thousands of dollars worth of carbon fiber had wiggle room. Not good. It was less than two hours until my flight and I had to let it go. I was spent. If I could have just sat in the parking lot and produced tears I would have flooded Atlanta.

Fuck it. I was done physically and mentally. I made it to through security without causing a scene. I made it to my gate in one piece. And I got on the damn plane. Time to go to Belgium