Filter

A love-hate relationship exists between me and words. Writing is the concise form of my personality; it's economically streamlined and to the point. I can form sentences from words and words from letters that represent exactly the thoughts in my mind. It's beautiful. 

What is written here is honest but it's filtered. I have about twice as many drafts of things I wrote but can not find it in me to make public or read again myself. Those drafts are filled with words that I can't touch. They're like old journal entries, it's something that I needed to write about and never see again. It's venting, and is only meant to be there for that moment to suit that need. 

Riding exists for a moment, it too suits a need. There are always moments I wish did not exist on a ride: the six miles of highway traffic, the asshole that yelled at me. I filter them out in my mind. Those moments are there even on the best ride. But they're not the subject of my memories. 

To let go of these negative memories is the basis of my happiness. You can't hold on to the negative. Riding up to Laguna Seca a few weeks ago a met a man on a hand cycle. He had no legs. I'm sure he has a lot of negative memories; plenty of bad energy that he could hold on to; way too many excuses not to ride and tons to complain about. 

But he wasn't having any of that, he was riding up a giant hill. By the time that guy got to that hill he had already overcome something so much larger. When I find myself holding onto the small stuff it's that thought of him riding up that hill which reminds me it's all small stuff. 

It could be so much harder. Letting go of the small stuff, through writing or spinning pedals, becomes a few orders of magnitude easier with that memory in mind.