Locked Out

This is a picture that was snapped today at Yankee post ride bliss. I am not even sure how I found this setting on my phone, though I am confident it will take me a week to get a normal picture setting back. After four or five pictures while I was still breathing heavy from the ride I decided it was time to pack it up as the breeze chilled my sweaty skin. I stood up and reached in my jersey pocket for my remote key. Click. Click....clickity, click, click, click. Nothing. I was locked out of my car. I scampered over to the driver side door kicking up the dust in my clip clop shoes. Sure enough I left the lights on. "Now how the hell did that happen?" I asked my self. Then I remembered....



When I pulled into the trail head parking lot I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn't see Ol' Blue. He had posted on Facebook that he was riding with the sunrise at Yankee. I thought I had timed it just right to get there after he left, ride, and still have enough time to make it to work, but as I swung around the corner to the parking lot I could see he was actually there...packing things up into his cousin's car. My heart started pounding in my ears as I put the car in park and shut it off. I fumbled with my phone for a minute killing time as they finished packing up. At that instant my bladder threatened to pop like a water balloon being chucked onto sharp grass by an angry 12 year old. I had no choice but to get out of the car. As I bee-lined to the outhouse I told myself this was something I was going to have to get used to. We live in the same town. We ride the same trails. His cousin mentioned something about the weather. I blurted something in response which I can't recall now, thanking God that he didn't say anything to me. I ducked into the outhouse that was already ripe for mid March. I took care of business and waited for the sound of the car engine to turn over... and waited, and waited until I couldn't stand it anymore. I was sure I was going to burn my throat if I stayed in there much longer. I threw the door open and trotted toward the car and then I heard him say it. He had to say it. He just couldn't help himself. "Enjoy the trail. It is AMAZING!" I wanted to fire back something super witty like, "Don't tell me what to do!" or something along the lines of " I stood a chance of enjoying my ride until just now." but I said nothing. I couldn't. The lump in my throat felt bigger than a grape fruit and the tears in my eyes threatened to blind me to the point of not making it back to my car. I considered not even taking my bike off the rack, going home and taking a nap before work. I felt old and slow and sad and I just didn't want to ride anymore like so many times over the last few years, but I thought of the wasted gas and the wasted opportunity and reluctantly took the "Q" off the rack. As all this was happening I never double checked to see if I shut my lights off. I locked my car with the keys in it, and threw my remote in my jersey pocket, and clipped in to pedal away my sorrows.


Maybe if I was still able to do a 55 minute lap I would have made it back before my battery was totally drained. I was only able to manifest 1:09. Not fast enough although it was 6 minutes faster than my time out there on Sunday. I noted the progress and decided that in spite of feeling shitty on the bike, and just shitty in general I am getting a little bit of fitness back. This made the day not suck quite so hard, as I was tempted to do a mental death spiral on how much this trail head distraction was going to cost me. I sent out an SOS and my heart was warmed by the response. Two of my friends called right away, and offered to come get me. A friend in the area called and left me a voice mail giving me his address, offering to let me hang out until something transpired to get my car unlocked. My awesome mechanic Bill, owner of Middleville Auto came out, but was unable to get in my car. He called a towing service he uses frequently, but there was a two to three hour wait. Bill offered to let me use his car for the day, but I felt like I should just sit tight because I would need to be there should the ever impending tow truck need to be called into action.

Just as Bill was leaving the lady from the towing company took pity on this damsel in distress alone in the woods and called me back with info on a company in Hastings that could get to me sooner and cheaper than the company posted on the rangers shed. I scratched the number in the dirt, and waited. I was already late for work, steadily losing the money it would take to pay for the tow truck. As I picked up my phone to dial a truck pulled in the parking lot. The guy that got out didn't look like a criminal, but I was desperate. "You wouldn't by chance know how to break into my car would you?" "I think I might be able to do just that!" he replied. He reached into the back of his truck and pulled out "breaking into car tools". This guys had skills. When he couldn't actually get the unlock button to work he went after the post sticking up at the top of the door. This thin bar he was using had nothing on it that would grab hold a pull up the lock post, but low and behold he did it. Clearly there are mountain bikers that have many tools and talents for things other than biking. Who knew?

I politely verbalized his amazing skills and while he jumped my battery we chit-chatted about the upcoming TT at Yankee, as well as recovering from various injuries. He said something very interesting that I didn't take into account when I started riding again, because I felt like I was at ground zero. He said that I will regain what I had lost much quicker than if I was a newbie just starting out. Judging by my progress (minimal, but still progress none the less) I could see that this spandex wearing potential car thief was right. There is no way I could have rode Yankee in 3 hours when I was learning to ride, and 1:09 wasn't even a thought in my head back then. I drove away feeling optimistic about my future riding abilities, and prayed that his theory also applies to starting life over again by myself. Locking myself out of my car at the trail head could get pretty costly this summer otherwise.

I think I will go get another key made. :/

A Return to Dirt

     The last two years and seven months have been a blur of various injuries that started with heart break in Feb 2010. The next was a sprained ankle in June 2010 that just wouldn't get better. One wouldn't think the heart and the ankle had much in common other than being part of the same body, but if you continue to use them while injured they are both subject to not healing or functioning properly. Last summer came a diagnosis of medial epicondylitis as well as a rotator cuff impingement, and a sprained wrist that I procured at Fort Custer. My father also died last summer. Add to the list more heart break to an already festering wound. A culmination of a series of unfortunate events led to me writhing on the floor unable to get up. My summer was capped off with a broken back. Yesterday marked six months and two days from that miserable day. It also marked my return to the dirt from which I came.

      Driving to the trail head I felt like myself again. I haven't felt that way in what seems like a very long time. Although I was scared of what was to come it just felt right to be going where I was going so I could do what I do, but it wasn't without fear. I was scared that somehow every technical skill I had ever learned had somehow vanished along with my wasting muscles. I was scared a tree would reach out and throw me off the trail and I would be once again writhing on the ground with a broken back. I was scared that it would take me 3 hours to get around Yankee. I was scared that I would be so discouraged I wouldn't ever want to ride my bike again. I was scared it was going to hurt. I am happy to report not all of those things happened. I do still have a little muscle under the fat that has gathered on my body like cumulus clouds in a summer sky. After a mile or so into the woods my soul remembered what my mind and body feared were lost forever and I was able to maneuver the Q over rocks and roots without much difficulty. I was able to head off at the pass the motivation of every evil trail side tree as they stood naked watching me. What I feared would take an eternity to complete only took 1:29. A far cry from my lap times the last time I was healthy enough to race there in 2010, but there is nowhere to go but up from here right???

      Just as I thought though, there was pain. With every drop, rock, or root I was acutely aware of the break that was once in my T-12 vertebra. The muscles along my spine tightened and burned in a protective response to the weakened area in my back, and many times it almost seduced me into giving up. Almost. Somehow, (and I don't exactly know how this works when I am on my bike) I was able to turn that pain into fuel to finish the lap.  As I rode memories of what brought me to this point in my life tightened and burned in a protective response to the weakened areas of my broken heart, and I knew I never had to put myself in that position again.

      As I pulled out of the parking lot with my jelly roll pushing down the waistline of my lycra shorts, I turned on the radio. Feeling much less that hot unless of course you count the sweat rolling down my spine into my butt crack, my ears tuned into the irony of life playing on WYCE.
 

      I don't have much but James reminds me I am going to have to use what I got to get what I want. This requires putting on my Hot Pants, jelly roll or not.  For the first time in a very long time, I want the life I am living right now in this very moment and I want to ride my bike.    I think I will play in the dirt again very soon.

Half Moon

If you were the moon

and I the sky

you'd hang low

in my jealous hands this night

only the half of you

you choose to give

tonight, tonight...

like every night.

Breaking Away

If you know Niel and me, then you know two people whose lives have been impacted by Multiple Sclerosis. MS is a degenerative condition that attacks the central nervous system. Symptoms can range from a mild numbness to paralysis or blindness. For those with MS, the future is at best uncertain. Every individual is affected differently.

In November 2001 the tip of my left middle finger went numb. In three days time I lost partial function and feeling on the left side of my body. If I extended my arm out from my side, it would flail about as if it had a mind of its own. I could not tie my own shoes, put my hair in a pony tail, or do anything that required the use of two hands. Although I could walk, I couldn’t go more than 25 ft without losing my breath because it felt like someone was sitting on my chest. A neurological itch developed on the left side of my head, neck, back and chest. It felt like my skin was being shrink wrapped to my bones. The best I could do was roll around on the floor crying while I clawed myself bloody. This was the beginning of a very scary and uncertain 3 months of testing…. and waiting.

On February 2, 2002 the official diagnosis came in. I was diagnosed with Relapsing Remitting Multiple Sclerosis. Relief came just by knowing what it was I was dealing with, but along with that diagnosis came a million questions and a whole new set of fears. The first place I called was the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. They had tons of resources available, and the latest information on research and treatment. The understanding and compassion that was relayed over that telephone line was priceless.

Much has changed for me since February 2002. Now when I open my eyes in the morning I am grateful I can see. When I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, I am grateful they hold me up. Another thing that has changed is I try to take care of myself as best I can. Other than popcorn and ice-cream, I eat pretty healthy. I quit smoking about four years ago. Right around that time my friend Eric re-introduced me to my first love and this has been my saving grace, my bicycle. When the uncertainty of my future gets to be too much, I swing my leg over the bike, clip in and pedal through it. I cannot express to you in words how much my bike and the ability to ride it means to me. It has opened up a whole new world for me to live in.

This disease can leave those diagnosed and their loved ones feeling rather helpless, so you can imagine how happy I was to find out that I could help those effected by MS simply by doing what I love to do most…ride my bicycle. I am blessed to have met someone who seems to tolerate me, and shares the same biking obsession. We plan to ride 200 miles together in the Bike MS West Michigan Breakaway on June 12& 13th. If you want to help us change the future for those with MS, you can do so by clicking here. I would love it if you could help Niel and I support the organization that was there for me when I needed it most. Thank you so much for your time and support.

A Joint Venture

If you have noticed this blog has seriously lacked content. I have been busy working on a joint venture. It's just getting started but if you care to follow along you may do so at www.dirtfortwo.blogspot.com. Cya!

A Broken Jar

like a movie

I saw myself at the table.

Paper, loose leaf

strewn about like fallen tree fingers

scattered in the sun.

I imagined I was feverishly writing

about memories we had caught;

like fire flies in a mason jar.

I saw us as we peered from opposite sides into the glow of the jar.

Great were the shadows the light did cast

till there was more of you that I couldn't see.

So I shook the jar

that slipped from my sweaty palms

as I tried to place it in your outstretched arms

it crashed

between our feet

and the light dispersed

our memories

pirouetting

into the space

between us.

I thought I might join you there

to sweep up the glass

but the table,

the tree fingers... disappeared...




I dusted and vacuumed instead.

A Vase

Flowers

carelessly fall from your lips

they land

on my heart

in pieces

But some....







Some I hold in my hand

caressing the petals with unfeeling fingers

not knowing if they are real,

I pull them

one by one.

I inhale deeply their sweet scent.

A seduction of life anew

drifts passed my haunted memories

making even those smell sweet.



you love me

you love me not



until nothing

is left

but stamen and pistil

as another spoken word like a flower picked,

dances on your bottom lip

threatening

to curl it's sweet scent around my neck

like a noose it chokes out

reality

until I can't hear anything

more than

a bouquet of

"I love you"

that fills me

fragile, hollow.

A vase,

wishing it were soil

to nourish

what you said.

A Fifty Cent Mystery

I stopped by to see you yesterday after I visited Dad. Everytime I do I have this image in my mind of what it will be like when I get there. I see some melodramatic scene where I throw my self across yours, moms, and Marty's graves. I would lay there until all the grief, sorrow and every bad memory that permeates my being would somehow spill out of me and seep threw the earth to water your bones, and in the grave they would stay where they belong. Things never quite work out the way we imagine they will though do they? What happens when I get there usually goes something like this....I approach the grave and I can no longer distinguish the three of you as individuals. You are all one and when I visit, I visit all of you, though I no longer feel your presence there. I see my last name sprawled across three stones and I know a part of who I am resides there with all of you, just as a part of you resides inside of me. The closer I get the more I shut down and the Academy Award movie clip in my mind turns into nothing more that me pulling weeds, looking at the faded photos of you on the granite picture frame and I wonder who was here last. The sensation that it was someone else who survived all of this death extends it's hand, and like a traitor I willingly climb into its palm. It's too much to bear. It always has been, but at times...times like right now, thoughts of you stream down my face. That imaginary hand that held me is gone, and the deferred payment of pain is made from an overdrawn account. What remains of you is .50 cents left on your head stone and a vastness that grows inside of me....knowing that there was more of you that I didn't know than did, and for this I am sorry.

Bitter Roots

Like bones

from a shallow grave

my past emerged from the closet earth,

a compound fracture breaking skin

Pray not you see

my unlovliness.

I slowed

I stalled

I toppled

into the beauty of

love

left me bruised and scraped

you

break my fall

and whisper

but "if"

bled into the marrow of

"when"

while doubt

in you

in me

in faith

in love and happiness...

spoke in place

of your heart

today

I pray a landslide

covers these old bones

help me cover~

bury them

so "we" and "when"

can

live

again.

Late Have I Loved You

Late have I loved you,

O Beauty ever ancient,

ever new,

late have I loved you!

You were within me,

but I was outside,

and it was there that I searched for you.

In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things that you created.

You were with me,

but I was not with you.

Created things kept me from you;

yet if they had not been in you,

they would not have been at all.

You called,

you shouted,

and you broke through my deafness.

You flashed,

you shone,

and you dispelled my blindness.

You breathed your fragrance on me;

I drew in breath and now I pant for you.

I have tasted you,

now I hunger and thirst for more.

You touched me,

and I burn for your peace.


~The Confessions of St. Augustine

The Giving Thieves

I dreamt

of trees

along the trail

who's leaves stole

the words

escaping our lips.

They held our breathless banter

poised. Waiting.

And from the bridge

of a would be rainy kiss

we stood

when the colors peaked

and you let me I confiscate

with my eyes a reflection

in yours

of leaves like words...

these silent

words between us,

descending

to the ground.

A blanket of color

nourishing the soil

from which they came.

Giving~

sustaining

the life

in the midst of

you and I.



And now I wake to the day late rain washing the sleep from my eyes and I ask it...

"Why did you take so long?"

To Kneel

I pondered a mountain

set before me

too weak to climb

my shriveled soul rocked

back and forth

I looked the other way

hoping

you would move it

You asked me to climb it instead

"Believe!

If

only

you

would!"

And so

I climb past

memories

Who but you can see

these scars so deep

within me?

Like gravity they

pull at my flesh

turning me inside

out

the closer I get

to you

taunting me to turn

and go back down

yet I climb

the next 5 feet

in front of

my heart screaming

in my chest

sweat like tears

my body sheds as my legs spin out

all the grief

and all that was lost

is left

on the face of this rock

that I climb still

and I wonder

if

at the top I will think the thought

that to "believe"

you really meant in me

and if you did

I pray

that with an empty heart

and empty hands

I will be

brought to

kneel

at your cross

and you will cradle

my chin in your hands

and wipe away

the shame

my only offering that falls from

my eyes

like diamonds to

you. And place them on your crown

and give me

again

something to give back

to

you....always to you.

The God I cannot see.

Stalker

Every time I go outside I see him. He haunts me wherever I go. Whether it be on a trail somewhere or flying over head while I am driving down the road, he appears in my field of vision. I've seen him so much lately I feel as though I am being stalked by him. He started showing up last summer, just randomly. I didn't think much of it, until one day I was coming home from Lawless, feeling lonelier than ever and one swooped up from the side of the road and took flight over the hood of my car. Immediately the tears stung in my eyes. I had looked them up before in my "silly superstitious book of symbolic meaning of things found in nature". They symbolize self-determination and self-reliance. They symbolize balance and an ability to progress and evolve. They have long thin legs that reflect that you don't need huge pillars to remain stable, but you have to be able to stand alone.

My plan for the summer was to take time to get to know myself and my bike, but I am realizing now that closer to the truth is this...I am likely going to be alone for the rest of my life, for several reasons. Making my self "unavailable" was just a way for me to fool myself into thinking I was choosing something, rather than just accepting the reality of what my future holds.

I started feeling pressure awhile back to be this cliche "over comer" with words and actions to inspire people and give them hope. I was desperate to not become this bitter middle aged single woman with a chronic diagnosis. I am still desperate to not become that, but the reality is there is not much I can do about the chronic diagnosis part, and I am learning the loneliness of self-reliance and standing on my own.

I was at the Fort last Sunday riding alone (Sorry Sean and Ryan!) along the lake after the armored wall. As I whipped through the trees, the scent of water and earth colliding with the wind filled my lungs. I looked to my right and there he was. He took flight and stayed low beside me for a few seconds. I understood why he was flying...Sometimes the weight of self-reliance and standing on your own is too much to bear, but the beauty of the flight carries a heaviness too. You have to look close to see it.

Minus 1

I am fighting to keep alive



where you used to fit



like a puzzle



piece



of my heart



that slipped out



of the box



on the closet floor



of a house that was sold



for much less it's worth



to someone who



defaulted on a loan



and auctioned off



spied while cleaning



it meant nothing



next to the waded gum



and cotton swabs



in the waste basket bottom



shame



you will wind up in the dump



apart from the box



you belong in....Nobody knows you are gone.



The puzzle with the missing piece



sits on a strangers shelf.



They are none the wiser.

Unconditional

I was talking to someone not to long ago about how messed up I am. That's not to say that there haven't been improvements. Much has changed with me, but there are still grosser emotional handicaps I guess you could call them, that no matter how hard I try to change them, they still remain. This person told me that much of my neurotic crap would just melt away if I was smothered in unconditional love. I thought they might be on to something. After a phone conversation with this same person today, I was meditating on this concept of unconditional love when I realized that God is the only one who could possibly be capable of loving me unconditionally, and I am good with that. I really am, but sometimes...I just want God to have skin.

Reigning On Me

I awoke to rain dancing on my tent

as the thunder rolled it's tongue in my ear

the damp air wrapped it's arms around me

begging me to breath deep the

earthy musk that filled my lungs

as I stretched out before you

in my mind.

I brushed the sleep from my eyes

and I knew...you were with me

Always with me

in this restless heart.

Mistakes

I tripped

on an old pair of shoes today.

laying like the past

in the hallway of my future.

the dirt of their

soles threatening to smudge

the floor that was just wiped clean

and I pondered

how they got there.

I remember the last time I wore them.

They pinched and blistered. They always did.

As if they weren't mine at all

but those of one

with a heart much

smaller.

I thought I had tossed them away

Yet here they are.

I think them ugly now.

The shoes of one not loved

but if I toss them

they will likely appear again

unexpectedly

to trip me in the dark

brightness of my future.

So I will clean them up

and hide them away in a corner

of my heart

Until God makes them useful

again.

Experience: The Great Professor

I tell her to always wear a helmet. No matter what.

"Nothing bad will happen Mom!"


Last night Experience spoke to her louder than a mothers nagging tongue.

"I think from now on I need to wear my helmet."

Instead of saying "I told you so!" I let Experience do what it does. It teaches in perfect timing. It tills the soil of our hearts to bring us to a point where our eyes and ears are churned up enough to receive the seed it plants. Hopefully this one will grow for her.


I gave her a hug and said "Lets take pictures!" I laughed as I was clicking away. She laughed too, but only because my laughter is contagious. "Mom! I just got hit by a car, and your laughing!" I looked at these pictures and what I saw was a broken neck, broken legs and a child lying paralyzed in a hospital room. I saw me standing over her casket threatening to kill her a second time by drowning her in my tears. How could I not laugh with joy at the reality right in front of me.

"Sometimes" I said, "when you realize how alive you are, you have to laugh at death." She laughed even harder.



These skinned up knees remind me how important it is to take a risk and live from the heart. Life is short.

Life....It Still Goes On.

I want you to know that although this day marks 27 years since you have passed, not a day goes by that I don't think of you. There has been much that has happened since I last saw you. It would take me 27 years to tell you everything. I hope it's true what they say about passing on. You know, that you guys can see us here. But if I could pick and choose what you could see, I would only want you to see the good stuff I guess. Stuff like I am riding my bike again and even racing. I would want you to see that I think of you every time I ride, and on particularly bad days I imagine that you are with me, and you help me figure things out. There have been times when I needed you to be there like only a brother could be for his little sister. I wonder if you know how much I miss you.

Sometimes I catch glimpses of you in my son. He is funny and easy going like you, and he has that same mop of unruly hair atop his head. He even walks like you.

Danny contacted me on FaceBook. I think about all your friends this time of year. I had terrible crushes on your friends. When you would have them sleep over I would sneak downstairs and kiss their faces. I felt compelled to try and look all of them up and see how they turned out, but I don't have the time. I have kids of my own and I am in school full time.

Be warned that if I get my homework done today I may come and visit your grave. Every time I go there, this vision of myself flashes in my mind of me throwing myself on the ground and just sobbing until the tears penetrate the six feet of dirt that covers you. Instead I just stand there and look at your picture on your headstone, and a vague awareness that you aren't even there prevents me from doing so. Then I glance at Mom and Matt's headstones, and my heart thumps hollow in my chest. If you see them could you tell them I hope someday we can work things out?

I have to run now. I have spin class this morning,homework, and something to look forward to for tomorrow to help me get through this day. It still feels like it was just yesterday that you died. But it's been 27 years. And life...It still goes on.

I love you

Doomed

So I asked a few people about what category to race this past Sunday at the Yankee TT. Most said Sport Women on my geared bike. But I don't want to ride my geared bike. Like, not even a little. Ever. I want to ride my SS even if it means losing. People couldn’t understand why I would want to ride in a race I surely wouldn't win. It is a little like entering into a doomed relationship. "Why would you do that to yourself?” Eric said. "Ride your geared bike and kick ass in Women Sport!"

But I talked to one who understood my heart. He’s the one I listened to. He couldn’t have been more right if he were God himself. "SS Beginner/Sport," he said.

So I did.

I have found true love.
I’d be stupid to go back now. Thanks Puppy.

To answer the question as to why I have set myself up for failure when I could excell in another class? I am learning it isn't always about winning, although I love that taste as well. It's about how I am going to ride from beginning to end, and because...


I am a Bad Ass ;)