I won't make that mistake again.

This is the thing about suffering. It teaches you to not make the same mistake twice. I fell really hard on an innocent looking log pile. Sometimes it's better to just stay down when you fall. I won't be trying that one again.

The Gift of Suffering

There you have it. I am officially the last one who is still single out of my little tribe. The wedding went off as planned and in spite of my insecurities of being the last one left, I really am happy for my friend. I know he loves his new wife. I lost it when he reached up and brushed the tears off her cheeks. I am so tired of crying!

The next day was kind of special because a bunch of us got to ride Owassipe. This is my favorite trail, but it is no longer open to the public. While I was waiting for people to finish getting ready I joined the school of sharks that were swirling about. As I am swirling I decide I should try to pop up onto the curb. Why I always have an urge to do this kind of stuff on concrete, I cannot explain, but I do, so it usually winds up a bit bloody. I'm okay with this. Staying true to form, most of my injuries happen pre-ride. I'll blame this one on an assumption I made about Jack, as well as not knowing my own strength.

It was just a 4 or 5 inch curb. I wasn't trying to hop it. I was just trying to gingerly get up on it. I approached it very slowly and lifted the front end up onto the curb. Things felt really good and there was no cause for alarm. That is until evidently the combination of Jack's feather weight build and my strength were a bit much. I realized this as I lifted up his ass, and it went over my head. Of all the bikers swarming around that day, not one saw it. Slow Poke came around his van having been alerted by the sound of metal on concrete. It was sheer grace in motion and he missed it. Lucky for me, because it appears this guy is in the habit of recording these biking type excursions. Beautiful. As I am laying there with my feet still clipped in, half on my side, with my butt popped up in the air, I ask him if he saw it. “Unfortunately not!" It's always good to know that people are looking out for your best interest. He did redeem himself by giving me a band aide to cover the tip of my middle finger that got rubbed off through my full fingered gloves. Good thing I got those.


As I am bandaging myself up he and my new friend Becky (Who is new to mountain biking, I mean super new. This was her first time!) strike up a conversation about safety, all the bad things that could happen, and not wanting to crash. Here I stand bleeding before them, trying to grasp what they are really saying, having just done a cartwheel on my bike. They say things like "I don't want to break anything" or "I am to old too go hurting myself". Listening to them talk about their fears, I blurted out "I was doing this stuff when I was a kid. Going down is part of it. I have accepted that." Then I pulled my gloves back over my bloody finger, thanked God for the pain, gingerly walked Jack up that curb again, (successfully) hopped back down and said, "Let’s go see if we can break something!" Becky said something about a bad influence. I'm not sure who she was talking about.

Now, I don't like getting hurt anymore than the next person. I try to be careful and ride smart, but things happen out there. I broke some ribs last year on a night ride. I endo'd so hard that I blew out the bottom of my shoe, but that's another story. I don't like having to take breaks either. I raced Pando with broken ribs. I could still feel them at Iceman. On Sunday as we headed for the single track I understood on a different level what they were talking about. They are talking about not being willing to suffer. They were talking about the aftermath of falling, the potential injury and the wounded pride, not the fall itself. As I stood there this silly little image of a mangled cart with a horse sniffing around behind it flashed in my mind. Isn't this essentially what we are doing when we live in fear? I think that the cart is less likely to crash if you stay in front of it.

I just remember how sick and stagnate I was when I was afraid to even try anything. I liken fear to being taken prisoner. A favorite quote of mine is taken from a book called "Mans Search for Meaning" by Viktor E. Frankl. He was a psychiatrist who was taken prisoner during the Holocaust. It goes like this: "The prisoners were only average men, but some at least, by choosing to be "worthy of their suffering" proved man's capacity to rise above his outward fate." These days I just accept that I am going to suffer. I've been through some senseless experiences in my day. I have suffered much at the hands of others, and even more at my own. I have an overwhelming desire for it to mean something and not go to waste. So guess what? That requires being willing to fall, which means I will suffer some more. I am going to get hurt, but it sure beats the pain of numbness. It beats the torment of not trying, and it sure as hell beats lying awake at night constantly wondering how things "might" have been, if I had only tried.

I am riding a new trail today. I am pretty sure I am going down. I am pretty sure I'll fall hard. I'm thanking God in advance for the pain. I went for years trying to numb out emotionally. For the most part I succeeded. It's kind of ironic that now that my body is slowly going numb, my heart is coming alive and right now at this very moment, I know I don't truly have to fear the fall. It's not a free fall into nothingness. Like the hand of God, the earth will be there to break it. It seems as though the aftermath of a fall, really just makes us more acutely aware of what was there all along. I mean think of it this way. If I hadn't of made the mistake of kicking Jack too hard in the ass, I might not have found out that if I just guide his head a little bit, the rest of him will follow suit. I wouldn't have got to feel something other than numbness in this left middle finger of mine. Although I can’t feel it so well, it’s been there all along. It actually hurt. Pain can be a good thing.

In response to one of my more Emo post, Puppy sent some kind words to me. Another favorite quote to add to my list goes something like this: "There is nothing I can say so let’s talk about bike parts. Do you know why Shimano brake levers rock? Because they are made out of forged aluminum. Shimano has these amazing 6000 lb presses that squish aluminum to form a brake lever. Somehow this forging makes the aluminum much stronger; therefore they can make the levers thinner and lighter and still they are amazingly strong. There are no better levers out there. Sure, CNCed levers look sexy but they are not as good as Shimano's. I imagine the levers themselves don't like being forged. It must hurt like hell during this process. But forging makes them better off in the long run. And the person who gets them is better off too."

What a gift. Thank you. I pray someday I'll be worthy of it.

Snags

Friday was my first day of spring break. In preparation for my best friend's wedding I decided to totally ditch my list of things to do, like buy something suitable to wear other than Lycra, and go ride Yankee instead. I was really struggling because both of my closest friends are now in serious relationships, and I am...still single.

I clipped in and started off pedaling as fast as I could. Something happens after I settle into a ride that is hard to describe. I suppose it is a bit like meditation. It's like doorways open for thoughts to flow in and out of simultaneously. Its almost as if they have a life of their own, demanding that I look. Just when I think I am going to escape something, its placed in front of me again. New perceptions on the same old stuff reveal themselves. I suppose it's the closest I come to clearing my mind.

As I start to sweat I start to think about relationships in general. Particularly mine. This always causes me to think about God because I tend to think that the state of my relationships is a reflection of my relationship with him. The metaphors come to life as my heart pounds in my chest on that first climb. The trail is the relationship. The bike is Christ and I am the idiot crucifying him out there on the trail. I don't mean to really. I am just trying to pick a line; I want to find that flow in life I so desperately need.

Here's the deal. Like so many things in life I've wasted much time blaming someone else for my stuff. When I first started riding I blamed the trail. Then I blamed the bike, but I never truly blamed my self other than to admit that I pretty much sucked all the way around. As you can imagine that state of mind is equivalent to riding in 6 inches of snow on top of ice with no studs or winter gear. It's futility at its finest. So as Jack and I are getting to know each other I find myself paying more attention to the trail. Because this bike has a rigid fork, I have too. This causes me to actually have to loosen up my grip and trust my bike more. If I don't I'll get beat to death. As I am riding I am over come with the thought that if I can just learn to trust, maybe life will be okay.

There are certain areas of the trail that are particularly difficult for me. One is that matted hill. I didn't make it all the way up it on my geared bike until the middle of last season. These first few attempts on the SS proved very frustrating as well. I thought about that hill all through the ride. I thought about what it was going to take to make it. I didn't know what I could possibly do differently to get me up. I was so focused on what to do, that the hill presented way to soon and I wasn't prepared. I stalled half way. I un-clipped. I looked down the hill. I looked up the hill. I considered settling. I've done this most of my life trying to find something to satisfy me. It's never worked. This occurs to me as I am panting in the middle of the hill. I go back down hill to try again. I let my heart rate drop to 160 and make my approach with as much speed as I can. I get to that half way point and say good bye to it, and hello to a whole new realm of heart staggering, mind numbing ecstasy. At the top I can hear my shout echo off the trees, my sole witnesses. I do not stop. I pedal in the satisfaction of not having settled.

There is one more hill out there that is an irritation. It's just after the 10 mile mark. It's not exceptionally steep but it's rooty and loose. I can do it no problem on gears. Jack is another story. My heart is still racing from the matted hill as I attack this one. My pedal catches a root. I consider going back down and trying again, but walk the rest of the way instead. I know it will still be there the next time around. I know I may get snagged up again. I am OK with this. I will learn how to pick my line up this hill. I've been up it before just never quite like this. Anything is possible, even a re-route, given the miserable state this hill is in.

I'll keep climbing it till something happens.

By the time I get back to my car I'm okay again with being single. From this vantage point I am acutely aware of what is going to snag me up. I also know the hill can be climbed, and in the end I don't have to settle for anything less than the top. I can trust this.

There is something to be said for that kind of satisfaction.

The Key

I didn't get to ride today. Eric called as soon as I got home from school. He needed to come pick up the mural that my daughter painted for the ceremony. I sat here staring at my bike trying not to touch it. By the time Eric rang the door bell I was putting on my Sidi's. I thought I would just go spin around the lot for a minute while he used the bathroom. I grabbed Jack by the shorts hairs and we were gone. A few minutes later Eric comes outside. I'm hopping and spinning around and chit chatting when I realize I don't have a key to get back in the apartment.

Me: " Did you grab the keyes?"

Him: " No was I supposed too?"

Me: "We have on the same shirt!"

And we laughed. This is the thing about us. We can laugh at ourselves. We can laugh at each other. We can laugh at the world together, and it is hilarious. I tell him to start pushing buttons to see if someone is home. I continue to ride around the parking lot. He stands there. He tells me the buttons are on my building so I should be the one pushing them, but what he doesn't understand is that I am clipped in. I am connected and I don't want that to change. I'm feeling it even in the parking lot. Then we both get distracted and we start talking about my bike and how cool it is and how I don't ever want to go back to gears and I'm telling him about the last 3 rides at Yankee and how he should a been there and "Do you realize just how light my bike is?" and I unclip and hand it to him and he is marveling about Jack and I realize something as he is standing there with my bike in his hands. My best friend, who re-introduced me to the love of my life, (the love that has saved me from the grips of my own anguish)is getting married tomorrow.

The past fourteen years kinda play out in my mind, he is standing there oblivious to what is going on. Mystery Science theatre, Perkins and the Sunset Machine, Driving around to Coolio in the Skylark because we didn't know what else to do. Then at staggered intervals Love would strike one of the four of us, and we would disappear for a bit from each others lives, to reconvene for the important stuff like divorces and children dying, and just being present when life happens to each other.

I'm thinking about all this as we jump in the truck to go to the rental office to get a key. I notice his tux. I cannot believe Deb is letting him wear an ivory tux. I say something about it and we laugh some more. Then we bust out singing like we often do. We are especially prone to do this while riding. Stupid silly little ditty's. We are gabbing about who all is coming on Saturday to ride Owassipe. In the midst of all this I tell him that I have missed him. He pretends like he doesn't hear it,(like he does when I tell him that I love him) and we start talking about why no one would answer the buzzer for us. We surmise that it is because we are both wearing The Ride of Silence t-shirts, and people were in fear that we were like the Jehovah's Witnesses for the Church of the Rolling Wheel. We laugh some more. We get back to the apartment and he loads up the picture. It's time for him to go. As he drives away I say goodbye to the days that we would fly by the seat of our pants together to whatever trail we felt like riding whenever we we felt like doing it. I say good bye to the idea that we were just going to ride off into the single hood sunset together. It was a bad deal anyway. We thought about getting shirts made that said "He is my Brother!" or "I am not with Her!" He's getting married instead.

Jack is waiting when I come back in. "It's just me and you now Baby."


I talk to my bike. Sweet. I've lost my mind.

No Cure

Yesterday marked my third trip around Yankee with Jack. We get along just fine and I am happy to report rapid improvement in our relationship. We made it 2/3's up that matted hill around the 10 mile mark this time. I was talking to Brian about said hill the other day while I was at the shop looking for a new seat post. He told me that the training I am receiving on a fully rigid SS will only enhance my abilities on a geared bike. He said I will be amazed. My heart sank a little bit when he said that. I mean, there is no rule saying I have to go back,right? I told him I couldn't imagine it. I'm already thinking about how I want go about unloading my geared bike. It looks pathetic sitting in the trainer.

We talked a bit about my cadence on the road ride Saturday. A few things need to be dialed in on the bike, but he said the sure cure for cadence is to flip my hub. Maybe by the end of summer I will be a true "Bad Ass", but for now I am just going to enjoy getting to know my bike. It's funny, because although he isn't new ('99 ?)and he has many scars, he sure draws attention out there.

I am not used to that.


Ladies and Gentleman the diagnosis is official, and there is no cure. The disease is chronic and progressive. I have Single Speed Syndrome. Please don't try and help me. I am going to wallow in this as long as I possibly can.

I would make you up.

You stir.
like mist
my body
gently hovers
over the surface
of everything
you are
as I try
not to wake you.
I want
to melt
on top of you
but homework
and mortgages
and other silly
grown up things
call to me
as I pass
over you
and for a moment
the rhythm
of our hearts
stacked on one another
is the only
thing
to me
that
is
real.
I lazily open
my eyes to
steal
forever
your sleeping
face
as the indiglo
shadows cast
across the bed
that you aren't
in and 4am
comes crashing in....




I have to
check my
email.

The Personification of Mr. White

March 14, 2009

I rode about 30 miles today on the road. That number is really a guess because my computer isn't functioning. We set out to ride the Barry Roubaix course for the race in two weeks, but we got a little lost. Steve and Brian both concurred that it was about 30. I wouldn't know because I got lost in my mind out there thinking about how my new found love and I would both rather be flying down single track. So I just pedaled and he just rolled up and down monster hills for mile after mile. I could see the ribbon of trail cutting through the woods as I pedaled along. It was so close I could have just dashed off the road and been swept away. My mind keep saying it was too soon but my heart said something entirely different. I asked the guys and Becky if they were game. Nobody had time. I didn't drive so I had to follow the herd back to the car. To try and ease the want growing inside my chest, I told myself the trail was probably super muddy. As I was reluctantly letting go of the fantasy I saw men in tights riding that ribbon like it was all tide up in a cheerleaders hair. I yelled out "How is it? Is it muddy?" they said not at all. I already knew. I was coming back as soon as I got home to my car.

After a quick snack and an email check, I put my SS in the back seat and I was off. I sang off key to him all the way there. He doesn't care that I can make ears bleed with my voice, he just wants to be on the trail with me. We had never been on single track together in ample conditions. It's been mostly snow or road rides so it was difficult to know how we were going to fair together. I caught SS sickness last summer, but there was no way I could make it work. I quit looking because it made my heart ache. I didn't even want to think about what I really wanted. So, I spent most of my time in the big chain ring dreaming, until one day last fall he just showed up. . .

It was the end of October, and I was riding with Steve and Eric on the same roads training for Iceman. Steve told me about this bike that had come into the shop. Listening to him describe it made my heart skip a beat. Thomas had already tipped me off to it but I didn't even let my mind go there. Steve really sparked my curiosity. When we were done riding I snuck down there immediately. I punched in my code and turned on the lights. There he was looking lonely behind the counter. My breath caught in my chest and my mouth went dry. I'm not even lying. He was beautiful. A little on the fixed side with no brakes but beautiful. He was more than I dared to even dream of. He's 26' a little Eccentric, and Rigid. I fell in love at first sight. I snatched him up and promptly named him Jack. I was afraid he would be more than I could handle, but with a little TLC I persuaded him to change. I promised him he wouldn't regret it.

We are just getting to know each other, but every time we chat it leaves me wanting more. I can't get enough. This is what I learned about Jack this afternoon. There is no pretending to be something I am not with him. When we are together I know who I am and what I am capable of. With him, what you see is what you get. If I focus on him and trust him, he tells me what do, like when I need to stand or stay sitting, and he's perfectly happy holding my hand if I should have to walk up that matted hill. He doesn't lie to me. Because he is not suspended I don't have to worry about my security being false. It's funny because without that suspension, I haven't felt, nor have I come close to going over the bars. I know it's early in the season, and I am the Endo Queen, but somehow this one is different. His rigidity may at times be mistaken for coldness, but the warmth comes in the lessons on mercy and forgiveness. I am learning very quickly how to pick better lines. I think he is helping me to be a better person.

March 15, 2009

I had to go back again today. I threw caution to the wind and let it fly. No keeping my heart in check or watching my speed.

What was once a fantasy has become real, and it is better than I could have ever imagined.

Note to self: "Let go!"