Awake before dawn, with remnants of dreams floating in your head. Realizing you don’t have to get up, except to feed the four-legged beasts giving you good morning kisses. Letting both put a smile on your sleepy face. Fix a cuppa just to let it get cold.

Back to bed to indulge in those dreams, laying the groundwork for rough drafts of a next chapter. Remembering the cold cuppa, throwing off the covers to reheat and let it seep into your system as you face what’s next.

What’s next? Let’s clad ourselves in our new riding kit – snug as a bug in all the parts that matter most for the task, those parts that hold more power than you will ever know, but will get glimpses of shortly.

Me ‘n’ CDE clipped in and cruising along when that song comes on. And you can just tell she’s going to challenge you as she looks through the screen into your athlete’s soul. Bring it, you think as you stare right back.

“I want you to put something on the wheel that scares you.”, she says. Oh, fuck. Yes, ma’am, as you add resistance. ”Something that makes you proud.”

Just then, the song breaks into the chorus,

“Pretty, pretty please

Don’t you ever, ever feel

Like you’re less than

Fuckin’ perfect

Pretty, pretty please,

If you ever, ever feel

Like you’re nothin’

You’re fuckin’ perfect

To me.

Just as P!nk is screaming at you, and your legs are screaming at that proud resistance, CDE is screaming, “Ok, push! Close your eyes and go as fast as you can! Fuck the numbers! Go!”

And you do! You sprint and you get breathless and the fine sweat that had formed around your hairline is now pouring and calming your sleep-muddled hair, and CDE counts down the interval “3…2..1” just as the next verse is starting. You raise your head, red-faced, victorious.

Ready to face the dragons of the day with armor you forged in the fire of your own belly. That’s fuckin’ perfect. To me.