What to do, what to do, what to do....

Antonio G. sent me an SMS at 10:30 last night, saying that the bike lanes up to the sierra were too messed up with snow and ice, and that the Saturday ride was cancelled. Great. I know that I should be thankful to have the time off, to have some time to myself, but this was supposed to be my paliza week, the week where I really cranked and got some kilometres in before heading back to work on Monday (well, Tuesday, really; Monday's classes got cancelled.)

I wrote Yago asking for some advice. Yes, I know that the whole point of this weekend's group rides was to get used to riding in group formations, but I want the ass-kicking. I want to feel totally spent and done for on Sunday night, and I don't know if he's going to let me ride on Monday to make up for not having the chance to ride today (or last Saturday, for that matter.) I feel bad writing Yago. I feel bad reclaiming the help that I need because I don't want to bother him. But then again, I am paying him for the right to bug him. He's the expert. I'm not. I have enough common sense to know better than to go ripping up to the Sierra if the bike lane isn't much better than a curling rink. But I'm paying him to keep a cool head and tell me when I'm going overboard. In a sense, I'm paying him for the right to say, "Nah, weather sucks. And there are still six months until Quebrantahuesos. No big loss if one weekend ends up being too crappy to go out."

It's grey and blah out there today. I was up at 6:30 AM, for some reason I still don't understand, and I started thinking about how, basically, cycling is becoming a panacea for how...well, empty...my life is on so many fronts. Let's be honest: I take advantage of the holes in my life (no kids, no man, no regular job) to work on my cycling, but I know that I'm using cycling as a way of ignoring (or actively blocking out) the loneliness I feel because I don't have those connections. (Man, am I glad no one ever reads this blog.)

So now it's 11:37 in the morning. I'm resisting the siren calls of Facebook and taking €100 down to Calmera to look at trainers, and I'm trying to focus on getting ready for work next week. I'm listening to a BBC Sport report about FIFA's efforts to address problems with homophobia. I'm not calling Yago; he can write when he's ready, and it's not like I don't know what he's going to say anyway. But the minute someone tells me it's all right to go out there and cut myself off from society by going to train for a couple of hours, I am the hell outta here.