The end of August is January 2nd and the day after my birthday and the last gingerbread cookie of Christmas. The end of August is so final and a little melancholy. It doesn't help that I've been planning my Ride to Conquer Cancer for over a year and in a few short days it will be over. It doesn't help that there's a full moon this weekend (hashtag: dirty hippie). It doesn't help that my due date is less than two weeks away. I feel unsettled and uncomfortable and bruised.
I'm surrounded by amazing people. The love and support I've received this week - that I receive constantly - has been overwhelming. My cheerleaders and magic makers and light givers have been sending me messages of encouragement and excitement all week. My people are carrying me through this week to be honest.
I do this thing where I need to talk about all the things, with all the people, to make them less scary. It's not an attractive quality, I know. Part of me worries I look like an attention-seeker (hello, am blogger, hear me talk about my damn feelings) but part of me needs to honour that side of me so I can stop spending $200/hour on therapy.
So! I'm afraid I won't be able to finish a 200+km bike ride in two days. I'm afraid that the weather reports are true and we're in for a weekend of rain and thunder and lightning. I'm afraid I'm going to fall off my bike and break my face. I'm afraid I'm going to pop a tire and not be able to change it. I'm afraid that I am going to be so sore after the ride that I won't be able to enjoy the mini-vacation we have planned. I'm afraid that I am going to fall apart after my ride because I've been so focused on finishing that I won't know what to do after it's done. I'm afraid that coming down from the ride coincides with my due date and the combination of the two is going to hit me harder than I can handle. I'm afraid that September is going to be too much. I'm afraid September is already too much.