Shadows In The Rain

I pried myself from the tentacles of my recliner and the siren song of the idiot box. I crawled onto my bike and slowly slipped away from the comfort of my suburban cocoon. I knew she was waiting. I could feel her heart the closer I got to her. I was an addict on my way to score. I have been weakened to be sure, but with every speed bump and bike icon in the lane, I was getting closer.

Nearing the tracks and finally hidden in the trees, the old feelings began to surface. Echoes of the last words the doctor said were repeated in my mind:
"Don't do anything that hurts."
Life hurts. What am I to do? Live a miserable, safe existence? My neck feels great, but I am unhappy. She alone has the answer. It took me days to recover from my last visit. The better I feel, the more I want. The more I take, the longer the recovery, and the greater the regret. I am powerless, the lure twitches and I move forward, mouth agape. Even the ghosts of what once was great and now lies in ruin, cannot breath reason into my aching lungs. I am in the grip. I am lost. The warnings mean nothing.

I pass people walking, they are clueless to the magic next to them, they don't see it. I take the left and leave the park. I cross the bridge and into the wilderness. I read the signs, I know I should resist but I turn anyway and forget logic. I am back in her arms, the primordial smell of the wet leaves and the closed canopy, are all I feel. I am a man again. Reason is gone.

I remember every part of her, every curve. I know from experience not to get comfortable, not to ignore her, she has punished me before without mercy. It is a delicate dance, and the beauty is in the details, not the destination.

I reach the intersection. The choice is brutal. Go forward and get the immediate gratification, only to suffer for days, or be sensible and head back. I have to ride less, to ride more. I have to be smart and go slow. I have to fight every instinct of what I want. The visceral and cerebral wrestle for supremacy. I take the path of reason, and turn my back on the best of her, laid out before me like a dream. Her skies go grey and heavy. The tears fall gently at first, and then heave in waves of sadness. I retreat back to my world. I can't be with her now, and if I am ever with her again, it may never be the same. I have to live with my inadequacies and face the changes that are coming with or without my consent. I have to lay down with my flaws like an enemy. I have to befriend it and learn to exist in its shadow. I will never be the same again. The adjustments never end. Move forward.

Lightning flashes and the thunderous roar envelopes the air for miles. I am unafraid. To die in a beam of light would be glorious, but I have a new burden to endure and I know I will not be taken. The rain buffets me in sheets and flows by the curb like a river. My sins wash off and float away to the pipes and the ditches, dispersing into distant lakes. I am reborn. I will never take her for granted again, but first there must be pain.

W.B.Z.N.

Lazarus

He has rolled back the stone . Behold, he has risen.

W.B.Z.N.

Good is Good and Bad is Bad

It was time to get off the bench. I decided to do the warm up lap with the Joe's Ride Crew.

It is good to be safe among your own. Smiling faces, and nice easy paces.

Climbing my way back into the fold. But I had to cut out and ride home alone.

A slow day on a bike with the crew, is WAAAY better than seventeen days off the bike.

W.B.Z.N.

News

I don't need surgery. That's is the good news. The bad news is they don't know what is causing the pain. After scaring the shit out me last week, my doctor says the scans all look really good and that nothing is getting pinched. They think the nerve that was pinched before the surgery (two years ago) may be flaring up (which is fairly common, and painful) so, more meds, physical therapy for a few weeks and possibly some epidural cortisone shots. I plan on medicating with Corona, Pacifico, and Mexican food as well.

I am allowed to start riding, on pavement and some light off road, in a week or two provided it doesn't hurt. He advised I build up slow, and go from there. Huge relief!

Man I am tired. Thanks for all the well wishing. I can not thank you all enough for all the good wishes. Sorry for the fuss. Please feel free to beat the shit out me in the comments, now that we know I am not going to die!

W.B.z.N.

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.