The Devil's Taking Names.

I can barely stand to look at my bike at the moment. I can't imagine a time when I'll be as fit and as fast as I was this summer. It's denting my pride as much as my health - I see dudes I used to relish beating and doubt that I'll ever be able to even compete on their level again. Right now, whenever I think about turning the pedals the same fatigue creeps into my legs. I've had mental angst before, by the truckload, and know that it only takes one significant change to knock that world off it's self-obsessing axis. So I'm starting to make deals with my body, speculating that doing something different will trick them into shaking off the lethargy that has plagued me since Eastertime. It doesn't work. Nothing works. I'm going back to bed.