I have been in Colorado for three weeks now. A whirlwind of driving cross country, unpacking, starting school, starting a job, acclimating to altitude, training, getting a cast off, racing, reading and writing. My transition from Marine to student is becoming more solidified. I am never early for anything anymore, and in fact, with the exception of class, subscribe to the tenant that if you're not 15 minutes late, you're early. I don't make my bed regularly anymore, and have no problem calling anyone I meet by their first name.
However, I have also managed to maintain a fair amount of my Kyishness, as it were. In the words of my academic adviser, I've taken to academia with "all the grace of a bull driving a tank into an Ivory Tower." I never was good at making a quiet entrance. And while the vast amount of reading, and the structure of academic prose-writing are taking some getting used to, I truly am enjoying the subjects and the ability to put the past decade of my life in an academic perspective. I also relish my schedule that allows me the freedom to drink coffee out of a mug on my couch every morning, ride at the crack of 3pm, grocery shop at non rush-hour, and nap from time to time. There are days I haven't gotten out of my pajamas until well afternoon, busily typing away, and wondering why I didn't know this life existed sooner.
The same can be said for the training and racing out here. Unencumbered by city traffic, I don't think I've logged a single "junk mile" since I've arrived. I can do 70 mile training rides from my front door and only run into one stoplight. There are stretched allowing me to do 40 continuous minutes of 40/20s (ok, so maybe I hate this fact), and when it gets hot at home, just start riding up and cooler mountain air awaits. My liberation in Colorado riding may be a bit exaggerated due to the fact that I am finally castless, and feel like bursting out in "Free At Last" song every once and a while. Being castless also means being able to race again, an admitting slightly frightening prospect as I've been out of the loop for a while. But if my first experiences here are any indication, racing here will teach me far more than I have learned before. Rather than the "who wants to pull? NOT ME!" game that leads to crits averaging 17mph, fields are full of pros, Olympians, and former world champions who are more apt to say "Ok, so who's keeping up?" Four days out of a cast I hopped in a super technical fast crit, and safely hung out in the pack. For the first time ever, sitting in was a victory. Priorities and expectations may have to be shifted slightly, but damn, I love racing my bike with these women.
The move has served me well, as a mist all the change and newness, I am finally making sense of the dualities in me, and allowing them to coexist. I am in a place where I can train and race hard and know that everyone out there wants to rip my legs off, but still embrace my femininity. In addition to allowing me the training time I desire, my new schedule has allowed me the flexibility and freedom to be both badass and girly, bullish and soft. I can beat boys up graveled climbs, snotting over myself, with manicured nails. I can speak of my experiences flying combat missions while wearing sundresses. I can line up and race against the best women in the country every weekend, and go home and cook. The lack of rigidity and structure has allowed me to get to know and love myself, and let myself be fully loved.
Slowing down was not easy. And there are moments when I miss the comfort of knowing where I'm supposed to be next and when I'm supposed to be there. It has given me great amounts of sympathy for those who never made the transition fully. There were many nights crying over what I would do next. And many days spent searching for sense in a world free from structure. I am a lucky one in that I crave a sense of adventure, and can't stay planted for too long. I am also one of the most fortunate in that I have the most incredible partner in adventure a girl could ever ask for. Every day I am more excited for this new adventure, and more confidant that the decisions of my past were merely building blocks for it.
Much is still unknown. I don't know what I want to do when I'm done with school. I don't know where I want to be when it's all over. But I know, for now, the mile high city is a good place to start.
However, I have also managed to maintain a fair amount of my Kyishness, as it were. In the words of my academic adviser, I've taken to academia with "all the grace of a bull driving a tank into an Ivory Tower." I never was good at making a quiet entrance. And while the vast amount of reading, and the structure of academic prose-writing are taking some getting used to, I truly am enjoying the subjects and the ability to put the past decade of my life in an academic perspective. I also relish my schedule that allows me the freedom to drink coffee out of a mug on my couch every morning, ride at the crack of 3pm, grocery shop at non rush-hour, and nap from time to time. There are days I haven't gotten out of my pajamas until well afternoon, busily typing away, and wondering why I didn't know this life existed sooner.
The same can be said for the training and racing out here. Unencumbered by city traffic, I don't think I've logged a single "junk mile" since I've arrived. I can do 70 mile training rides from my front door and only run into one stoplight. There are stretched allowing me to do 40 continuous minutes of 40/20s (ok, so maybe I hate this fact), and when it gets hot at home, just start riding up and cooler mountain air awaits. My liberation in Colorado riding may be a bit exaggerated due to the fact that I am finally castless, and feel like bursting out in "Free At Last" song every once and a while. Being castless also means being able to race again, an admitting slightly frightening prospect as I've been out of the loop for a while. But if my first experiences here are any indication, racing here will teach me far more than I have learned before. Rather than the "who wants to pull? NOT ME!" game that leads to crits averaging 17mph, fields are full of pros, Olympians, and former world champions who are more apt to say "Ok, so who's keeping up?" Four days out of a cast I hopped in a super technical fast crit, and safely hung out in the pack. For the first time ever, sitting in was a victory. Priorities and expectations may have to be shifted slightly, but damn, I love racing my bike with these women.
The move has served me well, as a mist all the change and newness, I am finally making sense of the dualities in me, and allowing them to coexist. I am in a place where I can train and race hard and know that everyone out there wants to rip my legs off, but still embrace my femininity. In addition to allowing me the training time I desire, my new schedule has allowed me the flexibility and freedom to be both badass and girly, bullish and soft. I can beat boys up graveled climbs, snotting over myself, with manicured nails. I can speak of my experiences flying combat missions while wearing sundresses. I can line up and race against the best women in the country every weekend, and go home and cook. The lack of rigidity and structure has allowed me to get to know and love myself, and let myself be fully loved.
Slowing down was not easy. And there are moments when I miss the comfort of knowing where I'm supposed to be next and when I'm supposed to be there. It has given me great amounts of sympathy for those who never made the transition fully. There were many nights crying over what I would do next. And many days spent searching for sense in a world free from structure. I am a lucky one in that I crave a sense of adventure, and can't stay planted for too long. I am also one of the most fortunate in that I have the most incredible partner in adventure a girl could ever ask for. Every day I am more excited for this new adventure, and more confidant that the decisions of my past were merely building blocks for it.
Much is still unknown. I don't know what I want to do when I'm done with school. I don't know where I want to be when it's all over. But I know, for now, the mile high city is a good place to start.
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