Getting Slapped

Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Getting slapped
So after I calm down yesterday and pull away from work,(for the second time) I absolve all the imaginary perpetrators and set the course back to my original destination. Bassriver. running riding, and yes Princess, sweating.....glorious sweating. You should try it sometime.
I head out. I've never ran Bass before. After a few hundred yards my feet are light, breathing is rythmic and I realize something is very different. For those of you who have never experienced being OUTSIDE, particularly on the trails, they get these little over hangs of briars and limbs and other outdoorsy type materials. What I notice is this. While running these little "slappers" aren't slappers anymore. When riding these things can hurt. Like getting slapped. Running, it's more like a caress. Like a lover touching your face. This got my gears turning......
Thinking about how things are different kinda comes as a natural meditative state when I'm in the woods. As if nature itself calls it out of me. I remember the first time I rode Bass river. It seemed so...long! (it's five miles) and I had to stop half way to get some fresh air (smoke). Poor Eric. I just remember how excited he was that I was out there. Every word out of his mouth was something like "awesome" or "This is so awesome" or "Jody, isn't this awesome?"
I was jealous. I wanted to feel like that as I stood there smoking. I wanted that passion and desire for something 'other', but I wasn't there yet. It was cool and all but I had more important things to do. Such as sitting in fear. Waiting for the wheel chair to come rolling in. Obsessing about how people in my life weren't doing my will and being mad at them for it. Sitting on the couch absorbing crap like a sponge. Going to meeting after meeting after meeting drinking gallons of coffee, chain smoking and waiting...for someone to say that one thing that was going to heal my heart, for a moment at least. Worrying about how I'm going to wind up alone and in a nursing home by age 40 because I probably won't be able to wipe my own butt. Not having the energy to do anything but sleep in a rocking chair. That kinda stuff kept me very busy.
So here's Eric totally in love with God and life. He just kept telling me what to do and I just kept listening, not able to make my body actually do it. It took months of riding. Months of bleeding and bruising (that hasn't changed) to make everything come together. Pretty soon it's "you should go clipless" or "you should race" or my personal favorite(not) " You ride pretty good for a GIRL".
I was never going to go clipless (fear), I was never going to race (fear) and I was never going to ride pretty good for being anything.(self loathing). But here I am clipless and bloody preparing for my first race. And I do ride pretty good. At least I can tell myself that now. It might not be true but screw 'em if they can't take a joke. And yes I have that thing in me now. That passion. that desire for something "other", and a knowing that all things are possible. "Things"(me) can change. God and I aren't enemies. Sometimes I think He even loves me. WOW! And I love God.
The loneliness I used to feel going to the trails alone is diminishing. i get that ramping up feeling the closer I get as I'm driving there. Like a dog going for a car ride to it's favorite park. the slaps in the face are turning into caresses, and I can feel life inside of me. Inspite of me, and It is beautiful.......
Hey Eric, isn't this AWESOME!!!