The ups and downs, the loops, the negative G’s, the sudden stops and starts, the 180° hairpin turns…
They seem harder to handle these days. Were they actually easier thirty years ago, or am I just losing a step (or five)?
Eight hours a day, some days ten, some days more, some with barely the time to breathe or catch lunch, all the while spinning and flipping and trying to land on your feet, or at least not with your spleen impaled on something sharp.
Too much adrenaline. Not enough cavalry coming riding over the hill to cut me some slack.
Too much adrenaline, even before the elderly blind assclown on his phone in his full-sized Mercedes runs through the stop sign and damn near ruins my day on a more permanent basis.
Too much adrenaline.
And yet, once or twice in the middle, a victory, or at least a vague feeling that perhaps breaking even or possibly a bit better might be on the horizon.
So we’ll do it again tomorrow.