At the risk of whingeing

I'm not sleeping.  It's 1:20am and I have a 9am meeting tomorrow but it doesn't really matter as the commute isn't that far. 

It's a shame I have a 9am meeting as I really wanted to get back to riding before work but I know I won't make it because I'm awake at 1 in the morning... but I need to do something because my brain is a mess.  Without that decompression at the end of the day I walk straight out of the office into dinner and then bide my time till bedtime. 

Oh sure, I went for a ride on Sunday but it really wasn't that far, 47km, or high, 1139m so I have no rest day excuses - except for a crank that fell off, rendering my most accessible bike temporarily out of action and oh! I just couldn't be bothered to get the other one out from underneath.

Today I was just mardy about how difficult it is to get anything done right now and didn't want to talk to anyone about anything.  I retained enough enthusiasm to keep my new starter entertained and that was it.

IT could be worse, of course.  I'm not flat out gone lazy, I'm going through boom and bust when it comes to riding bikes.  It's the dangerous bi-polar disorder of cycling - peaking between mania and depression, clear skies and grey.  Today was definitely grey in all sense of the meaning.

Of course, now I'm a grown up I know this will pass - but the cliche will not send me to sleep.  Probably only staring at the insides of my eyelids will eventually, imperceptibly send me to sleep but until then I felt the urge to write it down, remind myself it will pass and try and find the crumbs of encouragement that sustained me last time I had a sleepless night or a lack of enthusiasm. 

Last time I ended up in my valley riding 130km and it was the hardest thing I've done in a while and the happiest thing I've done in a while. With a May bivi on the cards soon I can only hope that lockdown will lift and I can sleep out because that is the kind of thing dreams are made of.