Anything You Want!

- OB

Warm Up

- OB creek? trail? mudbath? luge run?

Savior

I was facing winter with the worst fitness I’d had in 15 years.

It was a tough fall. The comings and goings of everyday tasks were tiring. For anything but the essentials, I looked for simplicity...my days were broken into two pieces: work, hang at home. Errands had no place. Exercise wasn’t a player. Socializing? whatever. I hunkered down and rode it out.

Physically, I felt like a glazed donut: fried and squishy, but without the sugary outside. Shuddup! I feel like crap, my uncle is going downhill, and my cat died...damned cat, anyway.

I took the bicycle out now and again, but riding was more complex than I cared to undertake. The season was changing and the decisions were too many: glove liners? windstopper mitts? which tights? how many layers? lube? tires? batteries for lights, schmutz on the derailleur....

It was easier to just grab my trail runners and head out the front door for a jog. I worked up from a few blocks to a couple miles. It got me outside in what was left of the daylight with a minimum of prep and time. But I can’t say I loved it.

In December when I headed out on skis for the first time, it surprised me that my legs were in decent shape. I’ve been out a few times, but skiing just hasn’t captured my heart.

Awhile back, I headed out on the bicycle into a brief bout of crisp sunshine and did a flat ride on the trails near home. The 15 mph headwind surprised me when I turned toward home. Hmmm, my bad: I wasn’t tuned-in to the conditions. I lowered my head and geared down.

I felt alive.

Last weekend, Wheel and I went for a short ride to the ATM. We totaled about eight miles, with temps dropping into the low 20s and clouds rolling in. Gray lenses in my glasses made things drab. My toes were frozen slabs by the end of the ride.

It was exhilarating.

Running saved my fitness. Cycling saves my soul.


- TOB

Under the Influence

Wheel wants a fat bike. His interest has been growing over the past couple of winters. Admittedly, with the snowfall we’ve had last year and this, a fat bike would be the better ride...studded knobbies just don’t bite over a couple inches of snow. He has headed off to ride singletrack regardless.

Me? Winters are for skiing. Yes, a fat bike would broaden the possiblities for outside play, but the season is relatively short and I’m happy to make-do with what I’ve got, given the cost of a new bicycle. Besides, I put money down last August to hold a spot in line for a custom road frame (after considering Betty’s age and the current asking prices for stock bicycles), so that will be my next bicycle purchase.

After all, road cycling is my deal, right? There’s nothing quite like flying down the road at the speed of happiness...

...unless it’s bombing through the woods....

...in the snow....

He was off to demo a Fatbike.

I couldn’t really have him go without me, could I?

- OBoy!

Flying Down Xenwood

the Xenwood downhill

had been cleared of ice patches by the afternoon's sun

so I could hear the studded tires 

against the asphalt

I could hear the tempo increasing

hear the speed 

my numb fingers grabbed for the brakes

it was nighttime, after all

I was cold and cautious of the intersection 

the driveways between snow piles

that emptied onto Xenwood

near the bottom I let go

as the brakes eased off the disks

the bike relaxed 

and flowed into the straightaway

the rush was small

but not 

incomprehensible

I pedaled to the street's end where I turned

away from home

and I pedaled up Webster, over 29th

where I saw myself 10 minutes prior

in the tracks of the wet snow 

they wobbled left and right

I remembered holding my line

the snow lies

I coasted full-out the second time down

crouched

watching

tires buzzing

fingers ready to grab

but they 

didn't

the third time 

I stood pedaling up Webster

over 29th 

in the sloppy snow

I hit the big ring, pedaled over the top

I flew down Xenwood

spinning

body warm

toes freezing

smile spreading 

and this time 

at the bottom

turned toward home

- TOfinally satisfiedB

Reset

clawing my way out of the abyss

is a bit overly dramatic, and it's not like

the only place to go is up

because truly there are lower places, and

starting from square-one

invokes the award for cliché-usage, but damn-it

yesterday I didn't know what to wear for a 50-degree bicycle ride



-ob criminy, how can I not know?!?

Oscar

2001-2010

Oscar was a kitty, abandoned and fending for himself, when he found my parents in early October, 2001. He came home with me about 2 weeks later and settled easily into the household.

He rid the backyard of bunnies, mice, bumblebees and a wayward bird or two just so you know, if you make a cat drop it! then YOU have to deal with the half-dead bunny...pretty amazing considering he was functionally blind. He could see movement, but would stumble over things in the house that were out of place. A telltale sneeze from the other room meant a diningroom chair had been left out and he'd just rapped his nose.

He was often moving, forever exploring, always finding the chink in the fence. He wasn't much for cuddling, but my lap was his lap...always. Through the years, Oscar taught me the value of sleeping deeply and waking up slowly; that more can be made of love than of hollering; and that in spite of shortcomings, life is best spent barreling ahead.

He was diagnosed with kidney disease about 16 months ago. I'd really counted on him to be an 18-year kitty (Barney set the bar awfully high), but tough beginnings can sometimes mean endings that come sooner.

We had nine years together that we wouldn't have had, had he not popped his face up through the autumn weeds.

I'm very lucky.

- tob with a very empty lap

Instant

Is your trip business or pleasure? I could see the blurred form of the car rental agent in my peripheral vision. He held the clipboard, pen ready to check a box after I answered.

The car was candy red. My eyes stared past the surface. I felt them sting and I blinked a few times.

Did you know my mother never came home from the hospital after I was born? And they were never close, my dad with her family. They all drifted apart over the years. There was anger, sadness. I don't know what it was, exactly.

And my life was a dad, a sister and brothers. I didn't think to ask questions, it was just the way it was. And no one ever really explained what happened.

But I felt self-conscious as I hit my teenage years. People who knew her were spooked by my uncanny resemblance to my mother. People I'd never met would tell me things about her. Things that I didn't know about someone I should have been familiar with.

Did you know that I would stop at Grandma's house now and again on my way to and from college? One time my uncle was there and we spent hours talking. And he said to come visit him out in California anytime, he'd love to have me.

He repeated the offer in Christmas cards. I can't believe I didn't go visit him until nearly 17 years later. After two family funerals. After he moved to Phoenix.

And you know, once I started visiting, it became a yearly ritual. Phoenix gave me warm spring days riding my bicycle in the desert sun. It gave me the smells of blooming cacti during the depth of Minnesota winters. And my uncle gave me an understanding of my mother and of her life and ultimately of myself.

And did you know...you know he's receiving hospice care now. I'm losing the one who fit all the pieces together for me. I thought he'd be here forever.

I took a breath.

Neither, I answered.


- tob