Festive 500 - An existential failure?

   So, Day 3 - Christmas Day - of Rapha's Festive 500 was a bust. I rode a total of zero miles, kilometers, meters, inches, centimeters of any discernable value. While that's not too bad, it was Christmas after all, this puts me seriously behind in my progress for achieving 311 miles. I woke up on the 25th much later than I would have guessed and by the time breakfast was done there was no way I was going to go anywhere and be back by 1:30 when my oma and aunt would be arriving for Christmas. I contemplated heading out to the grocery before they closed to grab a Sunday New York Times, but alas, my folks get the Sunday edition delivered to the house.

   While undeterred from Christmas' goose egg, I rode to work and home accomplishing a neat 8.6 miles, well under my now under performing goal of 35 miles a day. My intentions were to take a ride up the lake and around before returning home, but I had left my iPhone charger back at home during Christmas and I was now meeting my father back at my place with said charger and some bagged leaves for our compost. This meant not riding after work, and by the time my father had left and I had eaten there were a few more important tasks still left on my plate than riding around town for the sheer thrill.

   In the interim between then and now I have rode only another 10 miles. Stout tastings and picking up my lovely sweetheart and her family from the airport have seriously impeded my process. A failure of the will? When only down by a small margin does one let themselves down and turn a challenge into a miracle? I easily could have performed better and I have only myself to blame.

   Yet, when one peers at this failure through a more existential lens, perhaps the failure was only arbitrarily assigned. I'm riding more: nearly daily and for longer trips. I am no where near what many professionals or amteurs can pedal in a day, but, hell, I'm riding a fixed gear in the streets of Chicago! And I love it.

   While my rankings continue to dwindle to the point of laughability in the Festive 500 rankings, I hold my head high. I am a happy cyclist, riding through the unseasonably warm Chicago winter, knowing that I can ride anywhere in this city, no problem.