:: Death Day ::

:: today is not about fitness. nor is it about speed. it is not about the numbers; i do not care about calories burned or average heart rate. i will not critique my fitness, technique, or form in my mind. resisting tempatation, i remain calm so as to soak it all in; figure out what it all means. under my jacket i wear the same jersey i had on that pivotal day 6 years ago, which usually hangs in a hallowed place in my closet. i can feel it there. i feel the scar on my scalp under my helmet. i remember the way the forest looked and smelled and felt. i remember the deer and i wonder if he knows the chain of events that his presence set in motion. like a signpost along the road of life, he marks the beginning of a new direction. at first it seemed like a detour, an inconvience. and at an especially inconvient time. but such are death days. i fear that if i hadn't been taken so low, i would not have understood the meaning of the climb back up. and so today is a somber celebration. ::

:: Yellow Line ::

:: 8:27 am 38 deg f. the overnight downpour has subsided to a drizzle and a heavy fog has descended on the slumbering valley. astride the fixed gear and heading for the mountains, it's time to punish my body and refresh my soul after the lackluster performances of late; heading out of town hoping to escape both the fog and the feeling of disappointment. instead it seems to close in with each mile. the vibrant colors a few weeks ago are all gone save one: the vibrant yellow line i am chasing into the mist. unzipping my jacket, i pause for a moment and steam pours off my chest instantly merging with the other surrounding vapors. the yellow line hangs before me like a cord dangling from the heavens begging to be ascended. the fog continues to thicken with each revolution and quite soon the only definite shapes are the jagged line of dead leaves to the right and the yellow line to the left; and both disappear just paces ahead. for a few moments it feels that this is my yellow line: i don't have to share it with anyone. it's only expectation of me is to continue my quest upwards. following this line with lead me home safely i'm sure, but not before first forcing me to confront apprehensions hiding in the corners of my mind. my yellow line leads me to freedom, but only a few feet at a time. my legs struggle with the resistance of the grade. my mind struggles with the idea of turning back. my eyes struggle with vision of the road ahead, and i must trust that each forward movement will reveal a bit more. my yellow line rounds a corner and disappears into the fog... ... and so do i... ::

:: Express Lane ::

:: or should i say 'alleged' express lane. a recent trip to weggies was prompted by a need for some essential food items: bread, milk, milano cookies... a quick in and out and i would be feasting on my recent acquisitions in no-time. i took stock of the situation at the check out. at the far end like a mirage in the desert, an almost vacant express lane. quickly counting the items in my basket i found i was one over, and put back a pack of milanos (have no fear, i still had 2 more in my basket). as i approached the checkout nirvana, i spotted an older gentleman in one of those powered shopping scooters and i could sense he was heading for my lane. in an instant our gazes locked; stopped dead in our tracks, watching each others move. something out of a western, i half expected tumble weed to blow across weggies grand concourse. mothers pulled their children back into the safety of the aisles while stock boys cowered in fear. i'm not sure who made the first draw in this shopping dual to the death but we were off like a shot. his rubber wheels leaving black streaks while the electric motors howled. it was either my athletic prowess or my three wheeled dualer missing his shift into fourth, but i was gaining and i could taste the victory of a speedy checkout. having been beaten he swerved his supermarket go!kart and took the lane next to me nearly upsetting the apple stand in the process. i set my basket on the floor and leaned on my knees to catch my breath. out of the corner of my eye, i could see the belt was piled high. not 7 or 8, but twenty, perhaps thirty items. most were un-coded produce... the clerk searching the cheat sheet, each one getting their own turn on the scale. i heard the elderly man next to me snickering as he was already getting his food scanned. ahead there was fumbling for the club card. the political corrector in me thought that now would be an excellent time to teach the child in the cart how to count. perhaps he could then explain to his mother that 30 is greater than 7. significantly greater. then there was a request to use a check, and upon remembering the coupons, she fished them out of her pocket, uncrumpled them smoothing each on the counter and picking at the pocket lint. at this point geezer was already on his way. as i left the store i looked for a moral in this newest life lesson - express lane it is not. ::

:: Warmth ::

:: there are very few things that can give more warmth on a grey rainy day than a venti white mocha from *bucks. except maybe buying a cuddly pooh bear for a friends' very early arrival. i got the call late saturday night, and having never been close to the process before, i was fairly anxious with anticipation of meeting my new pal. i wasn't quite prepared, so thankfully target was still open and had a fantastic plush winnie the pooh bear for a last minute purchase. i rushed through the next days activies finding it hard to concentrate, and even harder to put forth the usual enthusiasm (funny because i had one of the better races of the season). not bothering to wait around for the official results i was off; a mission to accomplish. traffic seemed to be moving exceptionally slow as i headed to the hospital. i had only hoped to see my friends, wish them congratulations, and deliver the pooh bear. i was amazed i would be allowed into the nicu! i took extra care scrubbing in, and donned the yellow apron. my little pal was at the end of the row; some of his neighbors had parents watching over them, and my heart sank for others that were left alone. i was able to spend almost 2 hours with my new buddy, who didn't do much more than eat and sleep, and occasionally fell asleep while eating - the simple life of a newborn. at one point between the business of eating and sleeping, his little hand wrapped around my finger and he squeezed with all his strength and opened his eyes as if to thank me for bringing a bear to keep him company. the look brought a warmth that i hope never to forget. ::

:: Fun Size ::

:: is no-one enforcing the truth in labeling laws anymore? case and point: the snickers 'fun size' candy bar. i have yet to find anything 'fun' about this size. i dare say this sorry excuse for a treat is the antithesis of 'fun'. 9 times out of 10 while fumbling and straining with the tiny package, the minuscule morsel of goodness shoots across the room, bouncing off the wall, the lamp, and then under the couch. on your hands and knees as much out of hunger as to facilitate the search, you fish it out from it's final resting place and battle the dust bunny that has already begun nibbling on your chocolate coated caramel encapsulated peanut packed indulgence. you pop it in your mouth and chew ferociously. unsatisfied, you grab a second. third. tenth. before you know it, you are nearly buried alive in wrappers which makes me think they should change the slogan to 'hungry? don't grab a 'fun size!''. take action political correctors!!! the real 'fun size' is the $1.19 corner minit mart monster affectionately referred to as 'the big one' (or 'king size' to the outsiders). this massively robust bulk of scrumptious gratification is worthy to be bequeathed with the moniker of 'fun size'. ...while the emaciated variety is relinquished to 'why bother?' ::

:: Nite Ride ::

:: daylight is slipping away i log out and heed the call of the ride. there is a briskness in the air that warns to enjoy every moment that is left before winter. the once familiar trail has been turned into something new as the shadows grow long and leaves hide the ground. how well do i remember this trail that i've been down so many times? intuition takes over and my trusty steed hops over obstacles and weaves between unseen puddles as if out of my control: i am the autopilot. it becomes inevitable and i have to use the high intensity discharge. suddenly all color is lost in it's garish blue grey glow. things alive seem lifeless, but the beings of my mind are animated. the bushes have arms that reach out and tap my legs. i quicken the pace feeling something following me, but the only thing behind me are the worries of the day. i quicken the pace. i ride first under and then next to and then above the highway. i feel free, not being bound by the tarmac. approaching the home of mr. grouse, i mute the light and soften the tempo, hoping not to disturb his slumber. reaching the halfway point i am faced with an option - head straight home or turn for more. before i realize, i've found the branch in the darkness and am heading down it. a steep rise in the trail is unfamiliar, but i am glad for chance to dig deep. the woods open to a field, and my presence startles a deer drinking at a pool in the moonlight. my blowtorch illuminates only his eyes as he peers back at me. then it happens - snakebite. a familiar sound and feeling as the life hisses out of the tyre, giving me pause to gaze at the stars. within a few minutes i am moving again and soon after i am rounding the final corner towards home. neighbors are cooking dinner, school children are doing math problems and practicing their piano lessons. chill is setting in and hunger is brewing, but i don't envy their warmth or comfort. the sun does not mean to slight us by leaving early this time of year. it means only force us to view things in a different light. ::