Decompress

# What the hell am I doing here.
# I dont belong here.

The song words muddle through my head to the pace of my laboured breathing. A temporary distraction from the competing burning sensations in from my legs and lungs wondering who is going to give in first. Both attempting unconvincing poker faces.

The chain feeding through the drive train with an almost feline purr.

Body as still as I can manage with the inevitable toll of the ascent into the darkness putting a very good argument to my disquiet legs.

Darkness is all around me. In fact, it I am in its embrace. Enveloped.

In front of me is a bubble of light, a bubble of reality. No street lamps for miles. The occasional stars between the gaps between the overhead trees and the encircling hill tops.

Headlamp on the lowest setting as progress is gradual. My eyes adjusted to the lack of brightness a good hour back now.

It is not that the answers live there.

But this is the privilege. This is the time to decompress.

It is a lucid dream where your reality is the discomfort, the noise you make, the elements, and the cone of reality fading into the fog of war in the headlamps reach shead and the blinking trail you leave over your shoulder.

I am fortunate to be here listen to the voices within. Immersed. All but robbed of distraction.

I like riding in the dark.

I like riding on my own.

# I dont care if it hurts.
# I wanna have control.
# I wanna perfect body*.
# I wanna perfect soul.
# I want you to notice.
# I want you to care…. .


*I would settle for an FTP the other side of 300.

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