My Morning

5:20AM I turn the alarm off on the second beep. Slip from the bed, fish around in my dresser drawers for socks and a tee shirt. Quiet, I try not to wake him. I open the door to a dark closet in a dark room. Inside my hands feel the texture of my work shirt and the smooth fabric of my pants. I grasp my bundle of clothes and tiptoe off to the kitchen to dress, the cat is waiting for a morning treat and the dog soon follows, to be let out, then back in, than back to bed for him. Lazy dog. I heat some iced coffee from the fridge in the microwave, while I pour a bowl of cereal, usually something wheaty or branny. I take my vitamin, and slurp down some coffee, while I wait for my cereal to get mushy like I like it. I start rounding up the things I need to leave for work. Keys, phone, wallet, bike helmet, bike light, what to take for lunch, bike light, where did I put the bike light. I spend five minutes looking for the bike light. Turns out it's in my bag, with lunch. Helmet on, grab my bag, forget my gloves, grab the bike and head outside, lights on and off I go into the dark morning.

My Empty Bucket List

My cousin put a bucket list up on her blog. She had some really neat things on it, like hold a grand-baby,  have a screened porch, visit Paris in the Spring, see her son living independently, her daughter get married, see the grand canyon, live to see cancer cured. All really good, worthy things, and I hope she gets to experience them all.
    This got me started thinking, I should make a bucket list too. So I sat for a few minutes and thought what one thing above all else would I like to experience before I die. I could think of plenty of places it would be nice to visit, but there weren't any that if I don't get to see, I would regret. There are no activities I feel I would have missed out on. Nothing I've done, that I feel a need to ask forgiveness for, or wrong I need to try to set right somehow.
    I really have just never had any long term goals, Nothing I couldn't do in a year. I only set short term goals related to my interests. I can be very effective at completing them. My last one was to cyclocross race. I did that two weeks ago, it was fun, I will do it again, more than likely. But I don't have any goal of being a champion, or even being competitive. I raced to race. From start to finish, I did that in almost exactly one month. I didn't think I would, I said I was giving up, but I just went and did it anyway. I'll have to talk about my theories on successfully doing things by quitting some other time.
  In the end, I don't know if I could come up with anything for a bucket list.Nothing I feel the need to check off. I might could if someone told me I had a very limited time to live, but that's very different idea to me since the question would not be, "What would you like to do before you die?" but rather "How would you want to spend your last number of days?"
   The first question to me is like being overwhelmed by a huge menu at a good restaurant. There are a lot of great choices, so whatever I pick will be OK. This is about items.
   The second question frees me to focus on what is most important to me, without having to keep all the stuff from my current life in motion. This is about ideas.
    My answer would be to spend some time with my partner and family and let them know how much I love them, spend some time by myself reflecting on my life, do the things I love, (bicycling, working with my hands), and weirdly enough I would spend time volunteering, somewhere I felt I could be of use to someone else, since I am my happiest when I feel useful, and that I am making a positive difference somehow.
   

Tearing Up Paper Hearts

Chains round angels ankles, bear them down to earth. Dear God, reach out to catch them. Pray nightly for a blessing till I can stay awake no more. My hand goes to my mouth, to hold back my breath, and hold in my my fears. To not speak. holding in my breath. Wanting to scream out, then finding no voice to meet my needs.   There's too many voices and too many faces, the clock ticks away at my head and that year mercifully just goes away, more forgotten than most.

Chains round angels ankles, bear them down to earth. Flapping their useless wings. I have been blessed, and blessed, and blessed or so I've been told. Where does innocence go and who's it fooling now? Learn to smile sometimes, cause that is what I do for people that I love, because I crave attention, and approval, and enthusiasm. There's never enough to really spread on anything. Not when I need it, not when I'm hungry. I'm always hungry now.

Chains round angels ankles, bear them down to earth. Fuck 'em. Let them fall. Have you been blessed, and blessed, and blessed till you can't stand no more. Have the lies turned into truth after all these years? I just hide mine better. Hidden, like a a sleeper cell or a Flat Earther, just blending right in. Handing you back penneys you curse and then toss in the ashtray. Worth only enough to not be dropped in the parking lot. My hidden heart, whose beat I never share, nor wear on my sleeve, anymore. It beats only to endure this siege, this week, this disease. Just breathe. Breathe and wait, and act like it's all going to be OK.

Experiments in Camping by Bicycle

The basics

I was biking on the Silver Comet Trail and then The Chief Ladiga Trail from Coot's Lake Trailhead to Jacksonville, Alabama, which is about 60 miles, then back.
My gear
I rode my Giant TCX2 with it's wide 35mm tires, outfitted with a rear rack and two homemade pannier bags. I also carried a small tent and a Thermorest sleep pad, In one bag I had a few clothes; underwear and socks and shirts. I took a poncho, which doubled as the groundcloth for the tent, and a light windbreaker (I can get very cold very fast) and toiletries, and  firstaid kit. In the other bag was my spare tire, tubes and food. I had a lot of "bike fuel" snacks, but only carried two real meals for dinner each night. Flat bread, Vienna sausage, and  a premixed packet of tuna salad. I wasn't cooking and would have no campfires. Lunch would be had while passing through towns. Each bag also carried a 32oz  bottle of water, to supplement the two smaller water bottles on the bike. My bags, tent, and pad weighed 25 lbs minus water, almost 33lbs with the water. I skipped the sleeping bag, instead just taking an old sheet.

The Plan
The first days ride would head out towards Rockmart and Cedartown GA and across the border into Alabama and the Talledega National Forest, near the Pinhoti hiking trail, (about 40 miles), where I would camp for the night. The second day I would continue west to Jacksonville Alabama, where I would have lunch and rest around noon. From there I would head out east behind Duggar Mountain along Co Rd 55 through the Talledega National Forest and camp again in the wilderness. (another 40 miles) The third day I would take Co Rd 49 north to it's intersection with the Chief Ladiga Trail near Borden Springs Alabama and head east back down the Silver Comet to Coot's lake where I started. (about 50 miles)
 
What worked, what didn't.
Most of my gear worked great, I'm not sure how the tent would handle rain. I wouldn't take a windbreaker next time, unless it was colder. I really overpacked on Clif bars, snacks and Gatorade mix packets. but otherwise food was not an issue. I would carry even less and just rely on buying in town each day. I would take some kind of packable pillow, since sleeping with my head on wadded up clothes was not comfortable, but the thermorest pad is super comfy. Taking the quart Gatorade bottles to carry water in each bag was a lifesaver. I had just enough water to get to my campsites each evening, and then back to civilization in the mornings.
 The plan changed...  After almost an hour of climbing my way up a road across the mountains, with really crazy drivers, and threatening clouds overhead. I turned back, towards Jacksonville and the safety of the trail. I just didn't think I was ready for hills that big. I probably was, but I didn't know and I sure didn't feel it, and so I just gave up. I will have to face this struggle again a few days later, while on a slightly different adventure.    At this point, I have to ride back the way I came that morning, and find a camping site for the night.  I did not have ONE map with all the information in a single place. The first day I rode past where I would need to camp, and had to ride back about 7 miles. And the second day I was probably only a mile short of finishing the hard climb outside of Jacksonville, when I turned around. Again I rode past the camping spot, but pressed on to a trail side camp on the far side of Cedartown.  I would also liked to have had maps of the area around my route, as I might have gotten off the trail at a few points had I known towns were within ten miles or so.
The bike rode great, considering I was using a cyclocross bike for loaded touring. No flats. Loved the big fat round tires. I had put a kickstand on it, but the load was not balanced well, and it wanted to fall over, so usually I would just lean it against something. A double legged kickstand would be a wise investment for bike camping. I also learned early on that with a load on the bike, I had to unclip and put down both feet, every time I stopped. I could see where a front rack and handle bar bag could balance the weight better on the bike, and make it more convenient to get to maps, snacks, camera, and what not.
The Results
I had a great trip, that proved I can do this, and that I want to camp by bike. So, I am now beginning to plan my next bike camping tour. It may be a "door to door" trip , leaving from my house, with no driving at all, since I spent more on gas (and way too long driving) than the entire rest of the trip. I'm looking at maps and starting to think about Charleston, and maybe the Francis Marion National Forest. Who's in?

The Century I Decided Not to Ride, But Did

  I decided a while back, when I began started getting stronger on the bike, that I wanted to do a Century ride.  For a weekend cyclist like me, riding a 100 mile century ride is about like a casual runner completing a marathon. I felt like I was ready, I had ridden a couple of 70 and 60 mile rides, so a hundred miles seemed like the next logical thing. I started looking for upcoming centuries, and this one in Franklin, Ga on July 31st was the next one I found. I knew Franklin had hills, so I tried to ride hard up every bridge and overpass that I could incorporate into my rides and commutes. I no idea what hills were yet. I’m also a pretty thrifty guy; call it cheap if you want to, whatever. I just don’t like spending money on “extravagant things” like cushy hotel rooms, so I figured I’d just sleep at the school gym where the ride was starting. I also wanted to start camping again, so I got a real cheap tent and a decent sleeping pad, but that leads into my adventures on camping by bicycle, so I’ll leave that alone for now.
    Franklin, Georgia, where the ride started and finished is a small town 20 miles north of LaGrange, Ga , 20 miles west of Newnan, Ga and ten miles east of the Alabama border on the Chattahoochee River.  I realize when I am driving into Franklin, that there were a lot more hills than I expected, and they are steeper than I thought, not the gently rolling hills, but the ones that trucks have to downshift gears for, and just hill after hill. I’m already thinking there’s no way I can ride these, I’ll  just do the short 25 mile ride and call it quits.
I had problems with an extremely hilly road on my camping trip, so I have lost any confidence in my hill climbing ability. I pick up my registration packet and find that the air conditioning in the gym where I will be sleeping is barely working. I take my first real shower after  three days of camping, but there is no hot water. So much for being thrifty, but at least I feel clean again, so I head off to find some dinner. I end up at the Fish House on the square in “downtown” Franklin overlooking the Chattahoochee River and I have their nice buffet which has about seven or eight different kinds of fish, and shrimp, and vegetables, etc…
    Back at the gym some of the other riders mention they are going to head off before the officials start time at 8AM to ride the final twenty five mile loop first so they don’t have to do it in the heat at the end. I get the impression that most of these people are hardcore cyclist. They had been discussing different rides they have done this year. Still it sounds like a good plan to me, so I set my alarm for 5AM, drink a bottle of water, roll out my sleep mat, and try to get some sleep on the now slightly cooler gym floor. I’m still not at all convinced I can even make the 25 mile ride.
    I get up at 5AM, and already my mind is creating reasons not to ride: my sinuses are a little stuffy, I have a bit of a headache, my knee is a little sore, and of course the most honest, it’s just way too hilly here and there’s no way I can do this. I’ll just do the 25 mile short ride. I’m pretty disappointed with myself. I drink another bottle of water, get dressed in my bike clothes, check over my bike, drink more water, eat a Clif bar, fill up my water bottles, and wait for the sun to come up. While I’m waiting, I spin around the parking lot for about 5 minutes, but I’m not seeing anyone else heading out, and now it’s getting light out, so I head on out. Its 6:4O and I am the only cyclist out here. The first ten minutes are fine, I find the course marks painted on the road that I need to follow, and I’m getting loosened up, and finally hitting my groove. I’m pretty sure I can do 25 miles of this.
    At around 15 miles the hills start to get a bit steeper and I pull out the cue sheet and map and realize that I have missed the turn to do the final 25 mile loop first like I had planned and now I am just following the normal course which means I’m out here before the rest stations are open, and I am on the 50 mile course. I hope the second rest stop will be open by the time I get there, but I see a store, so I stop and buy a Gatorade to refill my water bottle. The cashier wants to know which way I’m headed, I don’t know the road name, so I point West and say “Alabama”, and she laughs and tells me that it’s too hilly to ride a bicycle on that road. I take off and in a few minutes I get  passed by a some cyclist who say “Jump on the back” which means I could draft behind them in their pace line. I try for a half mile to keep up, but I realize they are too fast for me, and I’m just wearing myself out trying, so I fall back. I’m still trying to figure out where I turn off for the 50 mile course. I have never really ridden on hills, and these hills north of Franklin just kept coming up at me , sometimes like steps, where when you think you’ve climbed to the top, there’s just another hill, and at the top of that another one. I keep thinking, after the next one there will be some downhill, but there was no significant amount of descent till after the 30 mile mark.
    I arrive at the second rest stop just as they are setting up, I eat a banana, fill my water bottles with icy Gatorade, and use the porta potty.  A few minutes later I climb back on my bike feeling refreshed and ready to continue on to do the 50 mile course. I realize I am really climbing these hills, even if I am crawling up them at 9 or 10 mph, but at least I am still moving forward.
Suddenly the trees give way to open fields, and as I crest the high ridgeline that the road runs on, I can see for miles, I can see behind me the hills I have worked so hard to get over, and my eyes are wide open to the beauty of the rolling rural landscape. On both sides of the road the neighboring ridgelines are visible miles away, and through the morning haze I can make out more rows of hills behind them. I begin to see all the things I hadn’t been seeing, like cows wading in a pond under pine trees, and rustic barns, and even just the full shape of the dark green trees in midsummer. I feel an enormous flood of emotions, overwhelmed by the awe and wonder of this glorious world I live in, the marvel of the all these roads I travel on and the freedom I have in this country to just go when and where I please, and at the idea that I could ride the full 100 miles. This sudden realization makes me feel like laughing, or crying, or doing both. I decide to concentrate on all that, and not look towards the top of the hill I am climbing. When I do look ahead it just seems so far away and unreachable. I become aware of the muscles in my legs burning and how my lungs ache as I gasp for air. I think of a friend from Facebook, Teddy Herrera, who is riding 10,000 miles around the country to raise awareness for childhood obesity, . His mantra has been “one pedal at a time” and I so I made it mine now.
    One more pedal, one more hill, I decide to stay in the moment. I watch the road slowly disappearing under my front tire even as I fight to keep pedaling uphill. I know that above all I have to keep moving, especially on the hills. I now have fifty miles behind me, and the finish at seventy five looks competely possible. From time to time I see a rider or two disappear over the hill ahead of me, or a group of a few fast riders will come past me, or I pass the occasional rider, usually also working to climb a hill but mostly I find myself alone.
     At the third rest stop, I spend a little more time cooling off and resting, I drink down several bottles of Gatorade and water, eat some more bananas, use the porta-potty and I tell the volunteers who are out in the heat on this side of the highway in July that I appreciate the job they are doing.  The next few miles of hills are tough and I am alone again, except for the SAG vehicles driving past looking for riders who need help. I think there is nothing wrong with quitting after the 75 mile ride. I could be happy with that, I’ve done great to get where I am.
     I am joined by the faster competitive cyclists who left at 8AM at the fourth rest stop. They must have been flying over those hills. Some of them are really hurting from the extreme effort. I see one throw up, and several are complaining already about the heat.  I hear someone say the next four miles are all climbing, which is not at all what I really want to hear. People are hanging out longer, and being more social. I’m less focused on my struggle and becoming more interested in other people and how they are coping.
     I talk briefly with this teenage kid who is riding a real cheap looking Schwinn road bike, he says he was told this ride wasn’t this hilly. I tell him I wasn’t expecting hills like this either and I’ve never really had any experience ridding hills till a just few days ago, and there sure were not this many. After the four miles of hill climbs, I see him pulled over on the side of the road, but then he catches up with me. He tells me he’s 15 years old and this ride is killing him. I laugh so hard, I almost choke on my mouthful of Clif Bar. My first instinct is to say something stereotypically adult about wishing I was 15 again, but then I really think about it. I never could have ridden like this when I was 15, so I tell him that instead and that he’s doing really well, and to just hang in there, he’s going to make it. We’re at about mile 68, less than ten mile left to the next rest stop, and for me, the decision point.  Do I call it quits after a very  a respectable 75 miles, or do the 25 mile loop I intended to do this morning and make it the full 100miles. The young rider drops back behind me on a long hill climb after a few more miles,  and  whether he finishes the 75 miler, the full 100, or even ends  up riding home in the SAG wagon, I hope he knows how well he was doing,
     I started thinking about the stretch of road where I quit on my camping trip when the climb got too tough, and I told myself that it was OK. It was better to have had to turn around and head back down, than to have never even tried to climbing the hill at all. The road gets a little lonely again, but the horse farms with huge hilly pastures and fields bordered by white fences and the neat and trim barns and stables are a nice and pleasant distraction, and the goat pen with the children’s playground equipment in is amusing. I really like goats, I just don’t know why. The next few miles slip by with a few tough climbs and I arrive at the last rest stop before the turn off for the final 25 miles. There are more people here than all the others and they are happier and laughing and spirits are pretty high. The finish point is about a mile away, if you are doing the 75 miles, or you have already done the 25 mile loop this morning, (which I missed).
      Leaving from the fifth rest stop, there is one steep hill before the turn off to the middle school, The rider I am climbing behind seems to be doing fine, so I am a bit surprised when he says he is turning off for the school, he says he planned on doing the hundred, but after that last hill he is calling it quits. I try to get him to go on with me, since I really needed someone to share the struggle with, but he heads off to finish a good 75 mile ride. I think to myself, no shame in that, but my mind is set on the full ride now.  My arms are aching from pulling up on the handlebars so hard during the climbs, my poor right knee feels like I’ve got a hot coal under my knee cap, and I can tell I’m a little sunburned, even though I put on sunblock this morning. My plan is to either ride until I fall off the bike or finish this ride. I realize that I have probably never pushed myself this hard in my whole life, that I am an athlete, something that I’ve never really been. I’m sure that I can finish this. I’ve got a lump in my throat and I know that I’m fatigued, and my emotions are running a little strong.
      Climbing a hill I pass a women cyclist riding a triathlon bike, on the downhill she passes me, and we give and take on each hill, with no sense of competition. I can climb faster, she’s better at getting her speed on the downhill. We come to expect one another and this goes on for about ten miles before she finally gets the long downhill run and leaves me behind.
     I get back at the same rest stop where so many riders were having problems earlier, this time the volunteers are having problems, water, ice and food are running low, and the guy there is mixing the last remaining three flavors of Gatorade concentrates together to make a flavor that could best be described as “didn’t make me vomit”. The crew is hot and tired and ready for this long day and all the preparation that it’s taken to put this ride together to be over.  This was the 61 mile marker, the first time by, but for those like me on the final 25 mile loop it is now the 86 mile marker and the final rest stop. I have about 15 miles to go, so I chug down another bottle of “didn’t make me vomit” flavored Gatorade, and head off to bring this thing in.
      The actual finish is pretty anti-climatic, there is one cheering, no banner saying “finish line” or “congratulations”, I pull in to the parking lot and there it is it’s done.  It’s 2:30PM I’m looking for someone to take my picture to “immortalize” this moment for me. I stop at my truck and get my cell phone. There’s just a group of guys jumping starting a truck with a dead battery, so I head towards the gym with my bike and the phone to get a picture, and find the friendly vender Russell, who I met yesterday, at his booth with bike art and jewelry. He takes my picture and one of the volunteers reminds me that to get my Chick-fil-a sandwich I need my number tag and that the raffle has been drawn, so check with Vicki to see if I won anything. I get my sandwich and a soft drink and go back outside and sit down and eat. I’m talking to Russell and I’m start getting the shakes, so I drink the Pepsi I had randomly fished out of the cooler. I start to feel better immediately.
     I call Michael, and tell him I rode the whole 100 (102) miles and he says “well that’s nice”. He really just doesn’t get what I do. It’s not his fault. He just doesn’t get it at all, so I just tell him he should be more excited for me, and he acts like he is, and I feel a little better.  I didn’t really make a big deal out of it because I wasn’t convinced I could do it, and I didn’t want to really hype it up and then not be able to finish it, I think I did that to help keep my expectations low. I didn’t need the pressure of this big goal that just seemed so far away. So his reaction pretty much just matches what I had put out there. I text it off to my facebook status, where some of my bike friends congratulate me.  They get it. I decide I’d better get showered while the gym is still open, there’s hot water, but now I don’t need it or want it.
     As far as my times and what not, I did check out my bike computer after I loaded my bike in the truck for the ride home. I know I was gone for 7hrs and 50 minutes,  and the bike computer says that 6 hours and 47 minutes were actual riding time on the bike, which means my long rests stops totaled up to 1 hour and 3 minutes or about ten minutes at each of the six stops I made. I reached a top speed of 38.5 mph, coasting downhill around the 66 mile point, and I had an average speed of 15.3 mph. The online course map said I had climbed 3304 feet of hills and descended the same 3304ft, over the 102 miles I covered. And that is the Century I decided not to ride, but did.

Midlife Crisis or Midlife Epiphany

    I'm 42. OK there it is, I said it. So what does that mean for me? If I expect to live to 75, (the current US average for men) then I've got 33 years left. Of course that isn't guaranteed, I realize how fragile life and health really are. Does that seem depressing or morbid? I don't think so. 
    A mid-life crisis can be defined as a period of dramatic self-doubt  in the middle age of life, about 40, as a result of sensing the passing of your own youth and the imminence of old age. I suppose I don't really qualify since I don't really feel like my "youth" is passed. (maybe I'm just immature) and I don't feel like "old age" is imminent. A lot of the hype of the "mid-life crisis" has been dispelled but it still seems a lot of people at my age get disillusioned with life, have affairs, buy boats, fast cars, get hair implants, etc..      I actually started to think about this a few years ago, it was part of an overall realization that led me to stop smoking and to get into better shape. I have been very fortunate in that my health has always been very good, and of course has even improved in the past few years.
    I also became aware of my personal impact on the earth and society, and began to make some other changes in my life that better reflected my beliefs. Being involved in social, environmental, political ,and humanitarian causes that I believe in. My beliefs are nothing if I don't do something about them, even if it's just something small.
    So what do I do with 33 years. I don't have any children, so I don't have all that to worry about. I see my goals as working to make my little bit of the world better in the little ways I find, and spend some time doing things that allow me to experience the beauty and  truth of our world and it's inhabitants, and of course at the same time, earn an income and support myself. 
    I have found few things that interest me and express so many of my beliefs like bicycling, I love the mechanical aspect, the fitness, being outside, the adventure, interacting with my community, teaching, politics, the environmental and social element of commuting by bicycle. And the social connectedness I have experienced by meeting like minded, (and not like minded, but still on bicycles)  people through bicycling and bicycle activism.
    So would I change anything in my life? Absolutely, but it takes everything I have lived to realized what those things would be. I don't really think knowing those things would have made me any better of a person. Most likely I would have been more arrogant, more outspoken and even less thoughtful, and less trusting, less caring, and less compassionate.
     33 years. I think of all the things I had seen and learned and experienced by age 33. If that's what the final 33 hold in store, then I am a rich man. If it were all to end tomorrow, that would be alright. It's been a great ride, with great family and for the past 12 years with the true love of my life.

Tailwind

 I head over the bridge at Thunderbolt and across to the beautiful wide open expanses of marsh leading towards Wilmington Island. I usually try to ride earlier in the day when it tend to be cooler and less windy, but I worked all weekend, so I'm taking this chance to put in some miles after work. Sometimes I have be willing to be flexible and to make my own opportunities. I have ridden over the Thunderbolt bridge many times, but today it seems like I'll never reach the top. I'm spinning away at the cranks in low gear, as I creep slowly up the incline. When the hill seems too big, just gear way down and keep grinding away.  Even after I crest the top, I have to keep pumping away at the pedals before I finally pick up some speed. Normally I would take advantage of the downhill to shift into a high gear, pedal hard, and speed down the other side, but by now I'm just happy to by pedaling easier. I remind myself, it's OK to coast when I get the chance. As I head down the road into the wind, I'm not "admiring the beauty" very much. I'm down on the drops of the handlebars, trying to remember to keep my head down, and elbows tucked in close, trying to keep my usual pace, but feeling like I'm still pedaling uphill. Thoughts that come to me are things like, "who am I kidding", "Man, I'm too old for this" "what was I thinking". I wonder once if I can even finish the ride, my legs are feeling pretty tired. I don't like to slow down too much, once I do, I feel like just giving up, turning around and riding home. Momentum is half the battle. Or worse yet, pulling over and calling Michael to come get me. I haven't done that yet, and today is no exception, I make it on to Whitemarsh Island, and the welcome shelter of the tree lined Johnny Mercer Blvd. I cross the Turner's Creek bridge, in a slightly better mood. I stop for about a minute to wolf down a half a Clif bar, and gulp the second half of my first water bottle, then back on the road. As I turn onto Hwy 80 near Bull River, I think to myself, "heading home" There's a decent bike lane till Whitemarsh Island and it's a nice break from having to stay so aware of the traffic behind me. The wind is behind me now, pushing me along. I begin working up through the gears and feel like a new man, passing my usual pace by several miles an hour. I need to be more like this wind, the tailwind, that makes things easier for the people around me. How can I do that? Be the tailwind. When am I a headwind? A force that has to be worked against, a hindrance. I need to be more like this wind, the tailwind. Over the bridge to Whitemarsh. Me and the bike are eating up the road, now one last bridge, I climb over it like it's nothing. Then a mile or two more and I'm home.

Fix Me or Not

At one time I was completely consumed with all the internal conflicts and struggles of my psyche. Battles were raging within me, ranging from issues about my origins, sexuality, addiction, depression, and the strangeness in the way I relate to people. Somewhere from that point I have become a pacifist about my soul.  I've given up, at least at present, exploring, conquering, mapping, strategizing, fighting and waging the war within. I quit trying to find reasons and causes and quit trying to put labels on all my dysfunctions. It's not that I didn't do some growing during that part of my life, but I wonder towards what ends. I do think it's important that I did examine myself, but I just don't think I found any results of any great worth. When I began to just accept that I am, like all humans, a result of whatever combination of experiences, genetics, randomness and inspiration than make up the people we are, I made a truce with my faults and flaws. What I did discover is that the specifics are not that important, that there's no "great riddle of my life", no thing that I can "solve" that will  fix me or make everything all better.
  Martin Luther King Jr said, "Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him." I just try to practice that towards myself. Avoiding "internal violence of the spirit". Sometimes I manage to practice that towards others also.