It's race day again and I'm spending a few minutes this morning reading blogs and trying to relax. There has been so much going on lately in preparation for Key West and the wedding that I haven't had much time to be nervous or worried, though I have been completely stressed out in general, swearing a lot and getting frustrated by things that are not worth it. In the months leading up to my starting this blog, I became obsessed with reading other people's blogs. I have a few favorites in my rotation, and out of those, there are only a couple who I've met or even have a chance of meeting. Even so, I feel a connection with all of them. I only know the name of one of my neighbors, but I know the day-to-day happenings of a bunch of people scattered across the country who I have never met. In this modern age, on blogs is where I find my community. So it may seem kind of silly that I have been spending my race morning crying in front of Fat Cyclist's blog, which is normally pretty funny. He has just received news in his wife's ongoing battle with cancer that has devastated his family.
When you hear news like this from someone, you think about them and wish them the best, but I think inevitably your thoughts turn to making connections with your own life or finding disconnects. My disconnect comes when I put my life in perspective with his news. How can I be so upset about losing my keys, Chris not liking a song I picked out for the wedding, any of the little things every day that make me scream, cry and swear? Of course, none of us really knows what will happen to us tomorrow, but from my current vantage point, it looks like I have a bright future full of opportunity stretching out before me. I am getting married in nine days to someone I love who (conveniently) loves me back and our life is good.
That being said, I'm going to race today because I can and because, in the overall scheme of things I have nothing to worry about. And like everyone else who reads Fat Cyclist religiously, I will be hoping and praying for a miracle.
Of course, I may be able to influence my thoughts, but my stomach clearly has a mind of its own.
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