:: Death Day ::

::

if you're worried and you can't sleep,
just count your blessings instead of sheep.
~ irving berlin
::

:: generally the bicycle is a place to avoid cogitation... a safe-haven for the psyche. but today is the seven year anniversary of death day, and i let my thoughts roam unfettered about. my mind drifts to the most recent extraordinary meeting of animal, november, and myself... how the aftermath of both was a delicate balance of personal resolve and necessity to admit helplessness. i must be careful in my musings though, not to defile what is perhaps my most important day. i must not unite into one rationale, the causes and effects of the two events, despite how remarkably similar... for today is the day i celebrate the delicacy of life, and the vigor this understanding can ignite. ::

:: Back In The Saddle ::

:: i try to take things one day at a time. but recently several days attacked me at once. juggling insurance agents, interviews, rental cars, conference talks, paper reviews... the stress has taken a toll. shoulders tight, stiff neck, tingly fingers, preventing the one cure i am sure will work. enough is enough, with a day to beautiful too miss. just the thought of not getting out made me sad. prozac, paxil, zoloft, cymbalta... a recent study suggests 25% of americans are over-medicated. and 70% report no improvement with them. i'm lucky to have figured out my drug of choice - endorphines. ::

:: New Day ::

:: today will be better than the previous few. but today feels colder than yesterday. i am more tired today than i was last night. i know today will be long, hard, cold, and probably frustrating. as i sip the warmth of my shojo-bucks at the bar in my kitchen, i spy a brilliant glow creeping into my vision. opening the back door, i venture into the frigid outdoors. a maple tree, standing apart from the forest, both in location and hue. illuminated by the early morning sun, against the storm clouds still lingering from last night. the single tree gives hope and is an inspiration. today will be better than the previous few. it has to be. ::

:: Hunting Season ::

::
twas the morning of a cross race, and i'd just left my house,
happy valley was quiet, too early for even a mouse.
two bikes on the roof, secured there with care,
what would soon happen, i was completely unaware.

i was wishing that i was still snug in my bed,
but thoughts of great racing were filling my head.
the leaves were so pretty in the glorious morning sun,
daylight approaching, was causing the fog to run.

when just off my bumper there arose such a clatter,
i knew immediately what was the matter
what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a not-so-miniature, scared, female deer.

descending from the cliff above, with the greatest of ease,
she hit the asphalt, and buckled her knees.
'why does this deer fly? it's not christmas-time,'
'but please stay put, and everything will be fine.'

i pleaded with the deer to move no further,
she took one more step forward, inevitable was the murder.
downshifting and cursing, all happening in a flash,
horrible things were to come, surely a smash.

then silence and calm, vision filled with fur and a mist,
a whiff of antifreeze, the engine died with a hiss.
police and road service arrived in awhile,
tales of 7 deer dead this week, this quarter-mile.

101,000 happy miles, behind the wheel,
now on a flatbed truck, my head started to reel.
how to get home, who to call, and how much,
my brain started to hurt, as i thought of such.

but as i watched my trusted friend be hauled out of sight,
another friend came, and i knew things would be all-right.

::