Wednesday, November 2, 2011
The human capacity to forget should never be discounted. It is the motivating factor for all great come backs. It is also the death knell for people that can't or don't want to improve.
I have been complaining about my local trails. I have had the white boy blues since I got back from the rock laden obstacle courses of "The Lig" in Pennsylvania. The short version is; I haven't been entertained enough, so I have had a little attitude (shocker!).
Last week we had another cyclist fall to a stroke. I went to visit him and I remembered not being able to write, having balance and speech problems and worst of all, watching the clock on crew ride nights (remember those?) and thinking; Ya they are turning their lights on. Big Chris is probably yelling at them. Now they are bombing the roller coaster on Caddy. Man those guys are probably laughing on their tailgates. It's very easy to forget, especially when it ain't no fun to remember.
I was yelling at my boys the other night about something really important like: dirty towels on the floor or cleaning their rooms. My oldest boy (we call him Captain Positive) can put a good spin on anything. He has been that way since he was a kid. A buddy of his lost a big brother last week, while being the DD for his friends. The driver that hit and killed him blew twice the limit. I have never seen that look on my sons face when he talked about it, or had to watch him experience a loss this close to home. Needless to say, no one has been leaving the house without knowing they are loved and getting a hug.
Like so many of us, I had completely forgotten to be thankful for my gifts. I probably won't institute any behavior changes, hardly anyone does. I probably won't magically become a better person, but as I rode through a clearing last night on my bike, I looked up at an autumn sky. The stars were just coming out and the moon was bright as a light at eight O'clock. In that silent moment the voice of the cynic inside me shut the hell up and I thought of those parents without their first born. I thought about Brian laying in bed dreaming about what I was doing.
And I remembered.