OK, first, apologies for the lack of posts. As it's often said in my broken record kind of way: I've been busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest these days. More travel this week combined with deliverables and my lady who's out of town rocking out to Billy Idol at her 20th HS reunion...well, you can see there hasn't been much time to think about the 'cross.
But it's always present, sports fans.
Xilinx today. And the weather is EPIC. 34 degrees and a steady rain as I type this. It's going to be a Flahute-y kind of day...which I relish. Just a bit different than the 66 and Sunny KP and the hoards will be having in Gloucester today.
So, it's mid October and things are going OK this season...unbelievably given the complete lack of training in my engine. I am now under the....
...training plan. It's miraculously keeping me in the hunt for my goals each weekend but I am convinced that its my love for this sport that pushes me deeper when I need it on the hard days when I know the required base and greater frequency of efforts during the week are just not there yet obviously required to be at the pointy end of the race instead of dangling seconds behind it. Quality versus quantity I guess...but even the quality is coming into question! Ha! I haven't been able to hit a Wednesday Worlds in weeks and the runs while on the road in Anytown, USA are not the same but do their job. So with that lack of what's needed known (and my bitch session over), I get this little something inside by brain in the middle of races....this little piece of motivation that speaks to me loudly in my head when trying like all get up to bridge to the front group containing some of the fastest guys in the country...and using that same inner something to stay in front of a group of equally passionate mad men who are leaving it all out there as well to chase me down and chew me up.
Cross. It's that inner something...the voice or motivation or whatever it is....that is keeping me authentic when so many I am surrounded by in my daily life are becoming sheepish, twisted bastardizations of themselves or attempting to project themselves as some God-awful cliche'ed character even a movie couldn't dream up. They need a Flahute experience. On second thought, let's keep the Flahute our little secret, right?