Flew into a Canadian airport. Hopped a ride. Drove through the city. Passed a sign counting down the days. 168 until the opening of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics. A Bob Roll written article titled “The Beautiful Therapy of Bike Racing” rests in my lap. br /br /”When I was a young person, you could not reach me. You couldn’t communicate with me, reason with me, drown me out with freezing rain or run me over with a train to keep me from riding. Everyday the miles I rode reduced me to ashes and dust but I was relentlessly reconstituted overnight by a seething, white-hot rage on slow boil…br /br /”I began my riding career as a block of cement. I finished as a brand-new baby boy, all soft and gooey. I needed the miles, I needed the pain, I needed the ruin to become a more reasonable man.”br /br /168 more days of Bob Roll-esque chiseling. 168 more days to answer, “What will I do with my talent?” 168 days made up of specific moments where I’ll be asked – if by nobody but myself – “What am I doing this moment to get better?” 168 days to come back back from adversity and shine, shine, shine. br /br /I need the miles. I need a recommitment to cultivating a more robust mental outlook, where adversity is not a brake but an engine pushing me forward. I need to get to the point where I blush just reminiscing about the suffering and striving, the fitness building and the form-topping coming. I can do this. This better start… now. Time has a way of not putting itself in reverse.div class=”blogger-post-footer”img width=’1′ height=’1′ src=’https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2691525267872963085-8566229289677673540?l=in-the-arena-torin.blogspot.com’ alt=” //div
