Everyday Epic
By Alison Colavecchia
3.18.04 (www.slowtwitch.com)

It is always with a mix of both longing and relief that I read about everyone else’s epic exploits.

At those moments when I am being seduced into thinking that a series of epic training days is my due the mature, responsible adult in me pipes up that there are children to take care of, a job to attend to and a house to be cared for. I couldn’t possibly train like Scott, Gordo, Peter or Lance in the face of these demands. It would be selfish and irresponsible to do so (and OK maybe impossible). But would it?

The problem with never taking time for epic anything and always trying to take care of business before pleasure is that there is never an end to the responsibilities, there is always something that seems more important. If you are someone who through genetics or necessity takes your responsibilities seriously you arise to more and more on your to-do list and feel less and less entitled to the lighter side of life and living.

I am not naturally inclined to be responsible. Maturity is not a quality I thought, for me, appropriate (although I always admired it in those upon whom it was prematurely bestowed). Unfortunately, though, I can no longer ignore the demands of adult life. More and more I am turning myself down when inviting myself to lighten things up. I decline the invitation to head to the ski hill or beach on a glorious day instead of going into the office. On a rainy day, I decline my own invitation to have breakfast in bed and instead get a head start on the laundry. The louder voice in the war within suggests that as a mature and responsible adult I should be taking care of business first.
My responsibilities have mushroomed to epic proportions it sometimes feels. I climb into my bed at the end of some days and regardless of whether I have worked out I feel as though I've bonked. There is nothing left in the tank. I have come to the end of the day and know I have done too much on too little fuel. I didn’t transition through anything and didn’t stop to replenish my energy reserves. Having gone this route too many times, I know intimately that if I don’t take note right away, I am heading for a crash. This is the point where I start being absent minded, more late than usual and struggle to retain information of any sort; where I begin staring out of my office window yearning for the spartan simplicity of days out on my bike, long runs on the path in the sunshine; where I recognize that not only do I want to have an epic day, I need one; where childish desire and adult maturity coincide. We both agree that I need to get outside and that an epic day is in order.

So off I go with food, money, good company and miles and miles of riding to look forward to. I am willing to put up with imperfect weather, hills and hard work to have my outside day. As the miles and time fly by I find myself thinking about an unresolved issue at work, a new way to fix something in the house and a new way to approach an issue with one of the kids—all thanks to a fresh-air frame of mind.

Feeling free, I imagine what it would be like to have only this to take care of each day. What if I was a pro and this was my job? I instantly miss the energy and chaos three children bring to my life (in addition to the cesspool of germs that most pros don’t have to face). I think about not having the dilemmas I face at work each day and not having my cozy home to return to (thanks to the demanding job). I have to admit that I would miss the array of daily challenges.

So while all the responsibilities that make up my life might make it crazy now and again, they make it full. While I may periodically get overwhelmed by it all and suffer at these times from the urge to run away, this is a crazy life by design and there just isn’t room for a series of epic days. That said, I know well that if I am all business and no play, I am setting myself up for some serious attitudinal and productivity problems. If I am diligent and consistent, my sports, including the occasional epic day, save my sanity and prevent me from taking everything (including myself) too seriously. They permit the kid who loves to escape meet, head-on, the adult who needs to chill every now and again from the business of taking care of business.

Still Tri’n...