Wheel chair vs. Singletrack mind

Post race blues. Just not feeling right. Coming down from the emotional/adrenaline high of Sunday. The whole experience blissful and cathartic to say the least.

So I'm going through the motions. Doing the deal at work. Dialing numbers and asking for money. I'm talking at this lady named Brenda. I barf the script on her and ask if she would like to match her last gift of $5.00. She says this.."I have ms and I'm having vertigo right now and my right arm is numb, but as soon as I'm feeling better I will send that in." In an instant I saw my future. My first impulse was to say "yeah, me too" but I couldn't make myself say it. There is part of me that is instantly repulsed when I hear people say they have it. Most days I can carry on and not focus on it too much. The way it affects me isn't so visible to the untrained eye. But today, if you looked close you could see that I choked back the tears for the rest of the shift, not able to shake the image that Brenda's words evoked in my mind.

This is exactly why my bike is so important to me . I was so depressed when I got home from work that I couldn't see anything good in the future. Nursing homes. Alone. Seriously, who would consider a relationship with someone who has this time bomb ticking inside of them? More like land minds releasing at random, wherever they choose, affecting whatever they want. I try to take the best possible care of myself. I have no vices anymore. So this is where the bike comes into play....

I know as soon as this ride is done and I've left these lies on the trail, life will be good again. I clip into those pedals and after a few miles I'm no longer diseased of mind and body. I drop that wheel chair after the first mile, covered in dust. It can't keep up with me. The fingers of fear lose their hold as the wind rips it from my back. The sun burns it up and my sweat repels it. The whistling from cutting through the air mutes Brenda's voice and all I can hear is my tread on the trail. With each turn of the crank it gets weaker as I get stronger. I'm pulling away from it now. Beating it to the finish. I am strong, I am able, and maybe even beautiful.

There are people who love me who at times have tried to sway me on the biking thing. Afraid I'll get hurt or, I'm sick so I shouldn't. To them I say this: Take away my bike and you take away my life. It is my friend, my doctor, my therapist and my professor. It is my act of worship. It is what keeps me here.