I know. It’s February already. And well, racing season is just about to get started. However, this is an important post. It is being written now, but it’s origins go back a few weeks. It had been a particularly hectic day at work — I had learnt to ignore that niggling feeling every blogger gets when they haven’t written for … well … months.
My bones were wilting and my brain was on shut down mode. The traffic was mindnumbing, but there was no looking back as I dived into mess. My colleague and I sat in silence as I negotiated the cars. Oh so many cars. Bright lights lit up every corner of my brain on fire, even the hidey-holes, setting off a headache that throbbed its way up my sinus and to the back of my skull.
My phone rang. It was a friend getting off work, sounding as exhausted as I felt. But the conversation took a turn – a delightful one – as we pondered over Kawasaki’s championship chances in WSBK this year. The argument was innocent enough — I felt they would rock the races, but my friend didn’t. As I hung up, and drove through the traffic and towards home, I heard my colleague pipe up from her miserable corner, “How do you have so much energy left?”
I started work at my new job early last year and struggled through the blogging process — battling new deadlines and challenges was no mean feat — before giving up, succumbing to the routine, shelving my blog, but not my love.
I watched the races, still screamed at the television, fought for my favourites with every breath, but never wrote about it. I silenced the dissenter in my head.
The love never dies, does it? It stays there, battling the tide, resisting the tedium, waiting for a moment to shine through. The right time. “I love it, every little bit of it,” I told my colleague. “I forget then.”
The headache was gone. But the feeling wasn’t. And so I write. Once again. One word at a time. Letting that love shine through, and waiting. Always waiting. For the first race of the season.