Before I gave up rowing my dad had told me that the sign of the good warrior is to be able to keep going through adversity, but also to know when to give up. Wise words, coming back to haunt me. I think the time has come. After 40 mins of riding in tears, not from pain but from the realisation that I just cannot do it any more, it might be time.
It feels like a bad break up. It feels like I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship. My affections have not been returned for two years. The sport has not been giving back - the pleasure has gone, lost in the fear of pain, the depressive state I sink to when the pain inevitably comes. Yet once in a while I get a sign, which keeps me going and traps me in the cycle. This is all probably non-sensical to most.
Maybe I owe it to myself. Maybe I owe it to Duncan too. To strive to be happy away from sport. To define myself in some other way.
Riddled with 'I think' and 'maybes'. I am not truly ready to let go. But maybe I need to, in order to find something else. Just like a bad relationship.
Last ride? Maybe.