I've always wondered what it must feel like in the first few moments an all-time, greater than anything you've done-type plan is hatched. Like when John Hunt first met with Ed Hillary and said, "Edmund, would you like to join us on an expedition?"
Those early moments of planning - when the goal is such a lofty thought one dares not even whisper it - it is so fragile. But one must. It's the siren song of the goal that subdues your normal apprehension to the pitfalls involved. Before long you either accept the goal or reject it however once accepted, the goal simply **must** be obtained. "Normal" life will be put on hold with all it's cluttering conveniences, commitments and comforting routines... the goal becomes paramount. Whatever it may be, that goal becomes by necessity a constant driving companion that won't leave your side, won't let you sleep without dreaming of it, won't let you speak without mentioning it and for me won't let me turn from it's path which in 36 hours will lead me to Denver and a meeting with the owner of Slipstream Sports.
The goal is the greatest film ever made about professional road cycling's greatest spectacle. Following one of the best, newest, cleanest teams through this year's Tour de France. This is my Everest. The plan has been hatched. That moment is right now.
Everything is unknown. The lists have started and they are long. Daunting. Expensive. Complicated. Foreboding. For some reason I feel I have to record this moment like it might be my last. The weight of possible financial ruin has landed square on my shoulders and I'm rattled to my core. Times are insanely tough and I'm about to set out on a quest that will make or break me in so many ways. What on God's green earth am I thinking?
I sit here weighing the risks... perched on the precipice of a financial desert - I have to risk everything I own. Jesus, I'm absolutely terrified. The goal is Chasing Legends.
And I don't have to wonder any longer.