There's something wonderfully chaotic about January 28th in my world. Looking back through the years, it's like this date can't decide what it wants to be... a day for getting organized and adding school pages, or a day for epic ski race ordeals that turn into survival stories.
The pattern is fascinating. Some years I'm trying to adult with morning routines and to-do lists, other years I'm discovering that pacing is overrated and you should just blow yourself up in races for better times. Then there are the years where I'm abandoning skiing because snow sticks to my bases like flypaper, or buying studded tires right before the weather turns to slush.
But the thread that runs through it all? The bike always wins. Whether I'm doing laundry runs on two wheels during snowstorms or finding myself on frozen sidewalks to the stars at Blue Mountain, the bike is the constant. It's the thing that makes sense when everything else is pure chaos.
Maybe January 28th isn't confused at all. Maybe it's just showing me that life works best when you stop overthinking and start pedaling, trusting that the trail will appear right when you need it most.