IMG_7704In the late afternoon sun I sit on our balcony with my spring jacket on, sock feet up on the railing, the street below me in Port d’ Alcudia bustling with life. I’m picking away at bread I bought at the corner store, drinking sparkling water and remembering what it’s like to live in a place like here. 

The Irish Tavern on the street below the balcony is full of tourists spilling out onto the cobbled walkway, the cafes that flank the pub are loaded with people sitting at small circular tables drinking coffee and beer, smoking cigarettes and chattering away in rapid-fire Spanish. It’s spring in Mallorca, Spain and I find myself with one foot in vacation mode and one foot stubbornly in work mode; balancing my final days of the two worlds before I shut it down into vacation mode for a week.

Months ago when Jon began to plan to return to Mallorca for work we’d looked at if I could make the trip with him – he’d been here in 2014 to coach cycling and had raved about the place- and after looking at my annual outlook we decided I could make it happen with the caveat of me needing to stay online for a week and finish a few items up before shutting down and taking time off.

The most hoped-for result of a week offline is the quelling of the doubt and fear which plagued me for long bouts of time in March. I’m no stranger to these emotions and I find that they show up when I’m at my most vulnerable, most tired, most weak. I spent many of my sleepless March nights staring at the ceiling wondering how I am going to finish (fill in the blank project), is the dog really puking again, have I trained enough to really compete in Dirty Kanza 200, am I going to sleep through the night tonight, did I press send on that draft or did I just leave it in my draft folder, when was the last time I moped the floor, did I really show up my book club, did I actually read that book, oh right, the dirty floor, probably should mop now because of the dog… 

Etc. etc. etc.

Time away from all aspects of life clears the head, banishes (or at least gives a firm talking-to) doubt and fear, tops up the emotional reserves to move forward happily and calmly. It does for me, at least. This is my plan, these hours I’m in right now present me with the final work I must do before logging off. I sit in the land of carbohydrates and am reminded inexplicably of working in Italy, but unlike Italy I am under no pressure to perform, to charm, to always know where I’m going. This time I can log off and hop on my bike, download a few movies, and work away on seeing life a little bit more clearly than before.