I lay awake. Again. It’s been 10 nights since my decision to STOP in the CTR. My bed, what should be a comfortable place of rest at the moment is not very welcoming. The sheets are twisted and tangled around my calves. I turn on my side and take slow deep breaths waiting for sleep to come. It doesn’t for many hours. I’m tired, but thoughts of CTR parade through my head, one after another.. A parade of what I can do different, what would have happened, what could have happened, what I should have done. I hear my heartbeat on my pillow, and my closed eyelids are clenching shut. I gasp for a large gulp of air as the tension builds in my chest. I’m literally drowning in my own disappointment and malaise. I suppose that’s better than drowning in my own tears and snot like many of the previous nights. Restless, I try to think of something else and I fail. Instead of changing my internal dialogue, I debate getting on my bike right now despite the time of night and starting where I left off, or maybe I should just start over. I could go out right now and be on the trail and cover ground, but I must wait. I must wait 355 days before I can try again. Everyone tells me to move on, to let it go, to focus elsewhere, to not be so hard on myself. I try and the distraction works part of the time, but I can’t let it go. The other part of me is an emotional cutter. Zero in on the pain. Obsess. Pick at it until it’s almost unbearable, and then I pick at myself again. The sheets are not only twisted, but it’s hot and they feel rough on my skin. How I’ll ever drift off into the sleepy subconscious seems like a mystery. I rearrange my pillows and sigh loudly. Defeat.
Minutes pass and I wonder why I even care. I hear the fridge turn on and off in the dark. Why should the CTR matter so much to me? Why does it pop into my head every 3 minutes, and why, despite 8 months of preparation did I feel like I had to stop only to continue? Stop only to continue, interesting. Does that even make sense? How did I fail myself? I rarely give up. Was I scared? Did I simply not want to endure the pain? What does it mean and why can’t I gracefully accept that it wasn’t meant to be this year?
I’m afraid to try again. What if I fail? I don’t have to decide now. I have 354 more restless nights to fidget.
