The Rage...

Cathartic release will come later in this post... First things first... I got in a whopping 12.91 miles on Sunday. Work around the house and an afternoon tee time cut the ride short. Yeah, I should put biking ahead of golf and I will... Today, I transfered my rage into the pedals. I rode one of my fastest times for the Lake Owasso loop of a little over 23 miles. Even at age 50, I still have rage from the beatings suffered at the hands of my older brother thirty some years ago. I've never had a decent relationship with him. Part of me wants to forgive him but a larger part of me never will. He always picked on me but the real beatings started when I was 15 and lasted a few years until I got big enough to strike back. He's seven years older than me and should have known better. He transfered his rage from his rotten life into me by way of his fists. At 17, I finally used my wrestling skills to stop the abuse. Like a typical bully, he stopped the attacks when confronted. Maybe that's why I'm quick to confront jerks. In the words of Pete Townsend as sung by Roger Daltrey; "If my fist clenches, crack it open, before I use it and lose my cool..." I've been working things out lately and realized today that rage can be a driving force in life. If rage is used properly... However, in the big scheme of things, it doesn't really matter. I wonder if Merckx had rage when he stomped on the pedals?