The stress of vacation

I know, first world problems, but it’s my stress and I can whine about it if I want. For those of you that have travelled a bunch, you know travel is fun, the adventures can be life changing, and time away from the normal day to day, is necessary to say the least.

Having said that, travel can be hard work. Planning, organizing, and scheduling take some serious mind power, and if you throw kids into the mix, quadruple the anxiety level.

It’s because of this that Chenoa and I try to minimize the pain of our winter vacation. We travel to the same place and we base the trip around riding. Keeping it simple is paramount.

This year, however, we are finalizing the deal on the new location for Swicked, our kids are way more active and demanding than years past, and with my shoulder being so messed up, I haven’t seen a trail yet. I might be more stressed when I get home than when I left a month ago.

But, as mentioned a few weeks back, I am making the best of it and doing as much road riding as my shoulder allows.

With only short rides so far, last week I decided to get a bigger ride in. I wanted to ride at least 75 km and do 1000 m of climbing. A good test to see if my body is ready for some trail riding.

Off I went, riding along the ocean and then heading up the two steepest hills I could find. No stress, just warm sun and great views.

A couple of hours in I was feeling spent and nowhere near my goals. I swung by the trailer to see if Chenoa needed help with the brats.

They were all at the beach, and this is where my dilemma kicks in.

I had another hour that was solely my time. I could do anything I wanted, and what I wanted was to sleep, or read a book. No, actually a book would take too much energy, I wanted to sleep. No kids, no wife, no work, just me time.

I took a quick look at my bike computer and confirmed – I was well short of my goals, but who cares?

There is more to life than riding.

As I started to get off my bike and head for a relaxing nap in the sun, I remembered who I am, I thought about how much rest I’ll get when I’m dead, and then I jumped back on the bike and headed for the hills.

I ended up with 87 km and almost 1300 metres of climbing, and I felt relaxed.

I’m James Durand and I’m Going’ Ridin’…

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