Biking is my least favorite part of the triathlon, but it’s the most meditative portion of the race. I think about my super fast Angie Man, for she is the world’s greatest sister who has way more faith in my own abilities than I do. I think about how silly I am every year for signing up for these races because I have to push and manage the pain for hours (and the slower I am, the longer the pain). If my stomach isn’t cramping, chances are I am hurting elsewhere. I think about my parents who always make it to the starting line.
I think about love and what it means to me. I think about whether or not my partner has to give me both the life I want in addition to love, or if love is enough. I think about whether or not my friends are more protective of whom I love than I am. I think about the things I can offer in addition to my love.
I think about my friends, whom I love. I think about the colorful world they have painted for me. I wonder if they are all I need.
I think about my future, whether it involves a nanny or not.
But most of the time, I can’t seem to acknowledge the contents of the thoughts in my mind.