Someone said "Life is what happens while you are busy making plans."
We leave for Portugal in 2 weeks and there are more than 100 things that must be done before we step on the plane. I have started a list of the myriad objects I will take along. Thermarest pad to stretch and relax on at the track, 2 sets of cleated cycling shoes, 2 helmets, 4 skinsuits, stationary trainer, etc., etc. I need a haircut. Prescription meds need to be filled and picked up. All of this happens against the backdrop of daily living and all of it's demands as well as training, which has reached a fever-pitch. Thank God for Trish who keeps all of this happening with some semblence of order and calm.
Underlying and ever-present in all this is anticipation. I have learned through life that anticipation is often the very best part of anything. As a five year old, one month before our family vacation to Lake Tahoe, my father made me a calender. Each day we would put an X through the day and on the last day when we would leave for Tahoe the calender had a little pocket which when opened revealed a one dollar bill. In 1955 one dollar easily represented 10% of a daily wage. I still see that dollar bill and smile. The anticipation of the week-long vacation and what I could do with that dollar was beyond exciting.
I anticipate the upcoming month with mixed emotions. I am anxious to spend 2 weeks with my family and celebrate my Dad's 85th birthday while in Portugal. I look forward to visiting a new country for us and all the experiences that entails. The cycling season is a long one and I relish being able to go out for a bike ride with no specific training plan in mind; just to go out for the sheer joy of riding. At the end of the month however, I return to work and face the politics and bureaucracy of a rapidly changing hospital enviornment. On the other hand, there are many, many patients I have missed and whom I look forward to seeing.
So, while I am busy making all these plans, I am trying to savor every minute of every day. All of this will pass and become a memory. My father has always told me "Don't wish it away." I know he is right.
Thanks for reading.