Not a splitting image

Ever been really tired and shirked all kinds of small duties and light-ish obligations? I have, and am. I'm jet-lagged in the brain. I'm not motivated. Although tonight I did split the stove-size pieces of maple from one of the five trees we had cut down yesterday. It took me two hours using a splitting maul, a sledgehammer, and a wedge. If that time holds, I've got another eight hours to get all five trees done. Some of the pieces were almost two feet in diameter. And the trunk was twisted so there were some really tough ones; the grain wasn't just straight up and down.

Travel alters things, and your perception of them. I can't really say with any clarity, or certainty, what's changed, but everything feels and looks a bit off these last few days. I expect I'll forget it at some point, and return to a kind of "pre-travel" state. Right now though, things do not appear to be what they were  before. Splitting wood was a good reprieve, because it needed to be done, and it is a task that requires focus. (I was on the verge of naming it a "mindless task," but if you've ever split wet wood, you'll know that characterization is ridiculous. Actually, I'd be prepared to say that the phrase "mindless task" is most often a poor characterization of a focused task in which there's only one thing to do, and you have to choose whether to do it well or not.) If you don't focus when you're swinging a splitting maul, you're going to hurt yourself, and you're going to work way harder than you needed.

Which is sort of the way life feels after travel - way harder than needed. Speaking of, I'm looking forward to my first longer ride after France, as tomorrow I join the ABES peloton in a ride to Letellier for breakfast. At this point I'd have to say, if given the choice between wind and a hill, I will take the hill. The prairie wind is big on training, and small on reward and enjoyment. It's just a grunt, with little visual interest. I'm grateful for it and all,  for I'm sure it made riding in France more enjoyable, but riding on the prairies just requires a kind of love and dedication to riding - to riding along - to riding for riding's sake - that riding in a place like France simply does not demand. Choosing to ride in France is like being asked to take a lover out for dinner and hence reaping both the gustatory and libidinal rewards. Choosing to ride southern Manitoba is like walking down the hall to math class, in junior high - it's on your schedule and you know it's good for you, but the teacher's grumpy and the girls are likely to laugh at you.

Ride report
in:          5'C wind 15 ks SE
out:       18'C wind 25 ks SE (first ride with shorts & no jacket)