You might be surprised to read this, but I have a very graphic imagination. Some people think in black and white and some in color. I don’t. I see the world in high definition. I see spectacular sunsets and fireworks. I see amazing works of nature and I see it all in 3D.
There are a lot of benefits to living this way and there are a number of negatives. But that is probably something that can be said about anything and anyone and since I this is how I operate it feels natural to me.
I have many fantasies, it comes with the hyperactive imagination. One of them is to magically be given a vacation or job in which I am required to get back into shape. The dream basically goes something like this. Somehow, some way I am told that my new job is to do nothing but eat right and exercise. It is a nice thought and I truly believe that if I had 90 days in which my primary focus was to get back into shape I would find myself looking at the 20 year-old I used to be.
So last night I dreamt about this, only there was a twist. I was forced to enter the Tour de France where I was told that in order to maintain my place I had to be within one hour of Lance Armstrong throughout the entire race. Fall short and you are kicked out.
I can remember thinking that this wasn’t much of a fantasy, it was a bit of a nightmare. I own a bike and I do some riding but not the kind that was going to keep me anywhere close to the machine. But I don’t give up easily and I was determined to gut it out.
There I was riding through the French countryside, huffing and puffing while obnoxious Frenchman threw rolls and croissants at me. They were stale and crumbly but I was desperate to keep up and with the amount of calories I was burning each day I needed to carbo load.
After about three days of racing I found myself face to face with old Lance. I told old Lance that if he didn’t slow down so that I could keep up I was going to break his ankles and tear out the spokes on his tires.
I don’t know what happened because moments later I was wide awake. For a moment I lay there in bed trying to figure out how it happened. How was I able to get into the Tour de France and how did I manage to keep up. As I lay there pondering it all it suddenly dawned on me that it was only a dream.
Dream or not, my legs felt dead today.