qualia are exactly what they appear to be

[moominmolly]

So I got back on the iron horse and signed up for another 200 km brevet this weekend. This one was local, so it was a bit easier to get to and to consider dropping out of. The big question: was I ready? I'd tried squatting with weight last Monday to see if my achilles tendon was up to any sort of real work, and I got the strangest sensation of blood flowing into the area. It didn't hurt, it was just as if my entire body was suddenly watching my tendon to see how it would react. I stopped, because it was freaky.

Saturday rolled around and I'd been trying all week not to worry about whether I'd be ready for the ride. This was the last 200k brevet around, the last chance I'm going to get this year to qualify for the Boston-Montreal-Boston ride. I feel completely secure that my muscles would have no trouble doing any of these rides (200km, 300km, 400km, and 600km, to qualify for a 1200km race); it feels so strange and frivolous to be held back by a tendon, but there it is. D and I got out of bed a little late and rolled into the starting area at 7:02. I wasn't really fazed by this, since if two or ten or fifteen minutes matter over the course of 130 miles, I'm either WAY too slow or WAY too competitive. Neither was on my mind, I just wanted to get in a good solid ride and move on to the next round. We registered and rolled off along the route, a bit late but happy and prepared.

After maybe 10 minutes, I had the sensation of blood rushing to my ankle again. I thought, "well, here's my chance to figure out if that's healthy or if it's the precursor to pain." I tried not to dwell on thoughts of my tendon for fear of obsessing and making it feel painful even when it wasn't. So we rolled on and the sensation in the area got stronger and stronger. It wasn't pain, exactly; if I didn't have a pre-existing injury in the area I probably wouldn't have even noticed it. If I had noticed it, I would have just thought of it as muscle aches. But bit by bit it got worse until hills gave me actual pangs. I'd been trying to figure out if it was pain or just me, but then one hill made me turn back to David:

"This is so much like pain that it actually hurts."

"You know, in philosophy class..."

Five minutes later we stopped and sat on a big sunny rock to eat nuts and let me come to terms with pulling out. I think I need a new goal now. I felt strangely OK with stopping; I knew that there was no way, given my current state, that I'd be able to finish the qualifiers, even if I'd be fine for the actual ride itself. But I do think I need something to strive for. David suggests we say, "screw it!" and ride to Montreal ourselves just for fun, maybe meeting folks at the other end to hang out in the city for a weekend. This appeals to me, so if you'd like to go to Montreal later this summer (maybe mid-August, pre-Burning Man) let me know, eh? You can all watch the locals laugh at my silly Parisian French.

In other news: sigh. Things have been sad and weird, recently. I was in a situation where all of my choices hurt everyone involved; even when you know you're not the bad guy, it's hard to take actions that cause pain for good people. I have a great deal of faith that it will all work out right in the end and that we will all fall into the appropriate places -- but the end can be a long way away, sometimes.

Comments

[harlequinaide.livejournal.com]

*hug* On all counts.