Travel is the general nature of my life and this blog, but I often find that I’m craving some kind of home. And at the moment, settled into a place that I know really well, and here for a whole four weeks, I’m feeling particularly home-y. Unpacking, I grabbed Scully, my bobble-headed and level-headed FBI agent action figure that’s traveled around the world with me for the past year. She—the action figure, not actually Special Agent Dana Scully of X-Files and general nerd fame—made me start thinking about home.
And in Sittard…
She mostly sits on my desk, but wherever I go, this little action figure becomes my anchor point as I set up a workspace. Weird, but when you don’t live in one place, you make home where you can.
But there are a couple places that—despite not owning land in them—we feel at home in. The primary one, funny enough, is Oxnard, California. It’s across the country from both Peter and my families, but we’ve probably spent the most amount of time in the two houses that we rent here. It’s not much time, per se, just a few weeks out of each year, but it’s come to feel like home. I think a big part of that is because when we’re here, Peter and I are in the same place, without side trips for a day or two for work, and without outside coaching gigs or team management responsibilities. It’s just us, our bikes, and our computers—all work and all play, in one spot. I think that’s what defines home for me.
So, I was a little choked up when I pulled into the driveway here today. Home, for a while.
Hopefully, this will mean more regular posting, since I have a huge backlog of drafts, but between my other writing and a hectic two months of cyclocross season final races and a month-long training camp we coached, it’s been hard to keep this moving as it should.
Let me know in the comments: what kind of content do you want to see more of from me? And, like this post is talking about, how do you define home?