You Can't Always Get What You Want

I had the M.R.I. this morning, with a side order of eminent reality. I tore my drums down and set up my stationary trainer. I am ready for the news...... good or bad.

Let the rehab begin!

C'MON AND CUT ME! YOU DAMN DIRTY BASTARDS!!!

W.B.Z.Z.N.

Secret World

I have been spending a lot of time on Facebook lately. People fall out of worm holes, into my friends list and certain themes keep coming up. We who participate in the grand social experiment, get in the habit of summarising our lives into neat little paragraphs. The pictures all support the axiom that we are together, happy, and successful.

*See, here I am with my kids. See here I am in front of my Harley. This is my perfect wife and I, in an exotic locale. See all this supports the facade that I am awesome. You can tell I am awesome by how hard I am smiling.*

Then the emails go back an forth and the holes start to form. The pieces held by duct tape, start to loose their rigidity. The divorces, the first love they never got over, the dreams they never pursued. These things well up in the flock, and drive them to the computers, for Internet group therapy. We send flares into the void of cyberspace, in the vague hope that someone, anyone will see it, answer the call, and at least for a few minutes listen and understand, in ways the real people in our lives cannot.

I am a disciple of this behavior, and I offer this blog as evidence. It was a place I could tell the stories I can't get out in real life. It easier for me to be myself with spell check, photo shop and a little lag time between brain and mouth. It is impossible for me to be the way I am here, in real time. So I must count myself among the other faithful, looking for redemption. I am in line with the masses, hoping to be understood by those that aren't in my real life, and to show another side of the coin to those who are.

I think it says a lot about the world we live in that we have to go to these lengths to be understood. We all have a need to be seen, good, bad or indifferent for who we really are, or more likely who we think we are, or in my case, who I'd like to be more often. Even if the premise is pathetic, we must acknowledge the great creative outcome of these digital playgrounds.

A few things have come along in the last ten years that may have saved me from my eminent destruction. The opportunity to manage a few rock bands. The purchase of my first mountain bike, all the places it took me, the friends it gave me, and the demons it helped me outrun. Finally this blog, which has allowed me to scribble and find a few of you that liked watching me shoot my home movies onto this virtual page. It has been one of the coolest creative things I have ever tried, and I thank you all for the feed back and the great blogs you write. How I got through the days without them or you, I have no idea.


THANKS, YOU DAMN BASTARDS!!!!!


W.B.Z.N.

Ghost Of A Chance

Basic lives of avoidance. I think that is what most live. We avoid the troubling, the uncomfortable. It's easier to just muddle through somehow, than to tackle the obstacles. Why hit the log when there is a perfectly easy line around? Why bring up the things that bother you, when you can just watch t.v.? You could have another beer or talk two hours about the intricacies of your life. Most take the beer, me included.

It's hard to write a blog about bikes when you are not riding them. I could lament the loss, like an old love. I could chastise myself for not being more thankful when I was healthy. I have to say, after the last dance with the neurosurgeon, that every day in the woods, on the road, anything involving turning pedals, I was very aware I was recieving a gift. I have been to the dark side and back. I have learned that things get taken from you all the time, some little by little, some all at once. The wolves are always at the door, the clock is ticking, pick your cliche, and run with it.

I am not sad. I have my moments where the shadow sits next to me, but I am a veteran of this game now. I don't scare as easy, until I have a really, good, reason. So for now, I am the disenfranchised rider you fear being. I am living the uncomfortable reality you turn your eyes from, for fear it's contagious. Pity? Nope, I want you all to enjoy the ride, and remember its a privilage not a birth right. Yell my name on the climb tonight boys..... I miss ya.

W.B.Z.N.

Quick Update on the Neck

The good news:

My bone grafts (fusions) are still in great shape. I am not in as much pain as before due to the torturous rest. The Doc does not think my new symptoms are related to my first surgery. The Doc is confident I will be able to ride again. I didn't know you can have up to four fusions with about the same mobility I have now so ...F-it lets cut BIATCH!

The bad news:

Since I have numbness/pain in my fingers and thumb, it would seem that c5/c6 are bad as well as c7/t1. I am not a good candidate for disc replacement. We still need a MRI but the Doc suspects the discs above and below my fusion are deteriorating. I will need at least one, and possibly two fusions, above and below my last. I am on steroids and can't ride til after my MRI (if at all) which means if I need surgery it will be at least two weeks which will keep me out of the woods til deep into August. I will be able to get on the trainer (two weeks after) and get on the road (6-8 weeks after) and if all goes well back on the trails before fall.

I am not that bummed. I got the news I expected. If I need the surgery, I want to get on the schedule as soon as possible. I am sure once he says he has to cut I will have a reaction, but right now I just want to go in.

Thanks for positive thoughts.

W.B.Z.N.

You Get What You Give

There's a lot bouncing around the Wrecking Balls manic skull pack today kiddies. Thoughts of transition are playing on the big screen. It's great to enjoy a good era, and it sucks to be at the bottom of the curve, but by far, transition is the worst. My positive attitude about seeing doctors again, lasted about two days, and the possibility of bad news, is leaning on my shoulders with all its weight. However improbable it may be, I always wonder what I will have to give up this time. I don't mind fighting my way back but damn, can I stay this time?

Back in May of 87, I had a cyst removed from my left wrist. As I was coming out of the ether, the doctor told me to prepare for not being able to play drums again. They had to cut tendons to remove the thing growing in my hand, and my ability to move my wrist was forever altered. I gave up skateboarding (a lifetime obsession) and took baby steps back to being the drummer I once was. It took three years and my hand hurts to this day. In 2005, I had ulnar entrapment surgery on my left elbow. It was really just a speed bump. Then two years ago I had the zipper installed in my neck. You all know that story. I am going to look like Edward Scissor Hands by the time they are done with me. *I put that in there so you all would have something funny to comment about...talk amongst yourselves*

I am an all or nothing guy. I always wonder what people are thinking when they say things like "can't you just do it for fun?" or "maybe you could just ...you know not be as serious about it?" I know they are just trying to be positive but I am always to compelled to punch them. For me it is fun to do something as well as I can, and if I can't do that, I find the activity in question aggravating. It's why I don't jam with people. It's why I don't ride a long board, its why I don't sing karaoke. For me it is a reminder that I have lowered the bar yet again, due to circumstances beyond my control.

So I will playing the "worst case scenario" game for the next few days. I have a lot to be thankful for (you have to say that in situations like this, as to not piss off potential omnipotent beings pulling strings on your behalf)....but I have to say I am sailing through the stages of grief at light speed. Then I go back to the top of the list and start over. I have noticed beer helps. I know one way or the other, I will pull this marshmallow out of the fire, but I also know I may not like the taste.

Well universe, thanks for the curve ball.

TRANSITION SUCKS!

W.B.Z.N. ....emphasis on the Z.N.

Landslide

Well boys and girls, the ole neck is acting up again. I remember this feeling: post-it's with doctors appointments on the wall of my office. The big scary "unknown" area of you obsessions that were once occupied with words like: "fitness" and "roll time". I am not in panic mode yet, but I have already decided if the saw bones says he can fix it with surgery, I am going to do it.

This kind of thing never happens at a good time, because there is no "good" time. I suppose one must remain hopeful. Chin up right?

It hurts to lift my chin. They don't call me the Zipper Neck for nothing.

W.B.Z.N.

Coming Home #1

When my father moved the family to Florida in 1969, it was the same as moving to a foreign country. Strange animals, climate, southern culture, and a place where my brother Chris had a shot at a healthy life, free of harsh winters. In one fell swoop we were disenfranchised from all we knew and geographically isolated from our Aunts, Uncles, and cousins. We made a yearly pilgrimage to Pennsylvania for reunions every summer but as the distance was tripled, the family grew up and moved on, the reunions ended and I spent my last summer in Ligonier in 1979.

Davey and I stole out of town a day early when I was able get a reprieve from my job on Wednesday. We both knew we wouldn't sleep and decided to head north. We made it all the way to Macon before we stopped for food and caffeine. We met this guy.

He has been adrift on the road for more than thirty years, and says hes happy. The pictures cost me three dollars, a pretty good deal.

We made it to Ligonier about eleven o'clock on Thursday and so began the blur that was the next four days. I think we drank some beers and at some point we fell asleep at my cousin Lydia's. Thursday we went to visit cousin Rich in Pittsburgh. I finally got to eat at Primanti Bros. They serve a famous sandwich I have been hearing about on the the Travel Channel for years.

The sandwich completely lived up to the hype, and so began the rapid weight gain. Rich and his wife Susan, treated us like kings. The next day we were off to Ligonier after grabbing Chris from the airport. He had not been back since 1978, and was one of the main reasons for the trip. It was great to see the memories, and child like expression, come flooding back to him as we drove, through the town. He is an old curmudgeon and watching that facade fall away was worth the drive. Ligonier is a time capsule with magic healing powers. Davey and I were glad to see a new convert, and smiled at each other as Chris' enthusiasm, adjectives and finger pointing continued.

Friday, John and I went on our first of many bike rides. One thing I want to clear up. I have been saying that the Pa. boys are not as fit as they could be. They only ride a few miles as they run into, over and off of big rocks, logs and small children. John lent me his old Titus Locomoto, a nice heavy, six inch travel, all mountain bike. I never got out of the granny ring and struggled up anything that resembled an incline. John however turned and impossibly hard gear the whole time, and I swear I never heard his derailleur move. He would stay seated, grind out the climbs, all the while leaving his little cousin panting and complaining.

One of the killer climbs.

Here's John taking a crazy line, over a eighteen inch log, and then onto a slick, slanted, moss covered rock. It's way tougher than the picture tells.

John took great care of me on the rides and at one point took me to an overlook that he mentally dedicates to his Dad every time he rides up there. On the day we were there, he dedicated it to my Dad and we sat for a few minutes taking in the silence. How can you ever tell the people you care about what they mean to you? All I can say is, thanks Brother.

More on the trip later.......

W.B.Z.N.