Caveman went on to win the 2010 Dirty Dozen at Warda once again. “Dirty” turned out to be an understatement this year as torrential rains the week before left the course soaked and sloppy. It was brutal struggle against the elements and war tattered steeds that couldn’t quite keep up with the punishment Caveman was bestowing upon them. In the end, though, Caveman snatched the victory with little fight from his competitors.

Following the Warda race, Caveman embarked upon a new life journey. There would be no racing, no training, no hunting. Instead, he would tie the knot with his chosen  mate and settle into a new dwelling. He would take up a new skilled trade because the old one had left him with little pay and naught to do during hard economic times. While he did miss racing, he enjoyed the time off. It was greatly needed chance to work diligently and sow the seeds that would bring a fruitful harvest for years to come.

During this time, Caveman’s fitness and health declined. In many ways, Caveman began to lose track of his inner being. Not only was he no longer placing the physical demands of racing upon his body, but he was sacrificing sleep and mental stability to his newly chosen trade. The once strict Paleo diet was succumbing to occasional modern conveniences with highly processed grains and sugars. High quality meats and plants still remained staples, but he gave in to bread, pizza, caffeinated fizzy refrescos, alcohol, ice cream, cake, Mrs. Baird’s pastries, and other sumptuous deserts. Dark chocolate gave way to milk chocolate.  Raw meat and eggs somehow became cooked. He traded in the sheep skin on the floor bed for whatever cushy nest his mate had before him. The new dwelling had working conditioning of the air, and Caveman was pampered cool air during the hot summer days and nights. He was spending more time indoors, and less in the great outdoors. Were it not for an occasional run, hike, or bike with his high strung canine companion, exercise would’ve been neglected altogether. The stress of a new career, of starting a small business was testing Caveman’s mental grit to the max. He knew these artificial stresses were silly things to worry about, but they still ate away at him anyways.

Caveman suddenly found himself in a state of Purgatory. He longed to get back on the trail, to be in the races once more. This would be his heaven. But hell beckoned louder. Caveman knew he would have to go though a little bit of hell for a while before being able to return to the good life. The return to bliss would be more glorious though. With a new business up and running smoothly, he could work his own hours, cut his own paychecks, and buy lots of bike parts and race entries.

How long he would stay in this state was unknown. Would things come together quickly? Would he fail? Would he break down and go back to a steady day job? When would he return to racing? Only time would tell…