Large Fella on a Bike

The Absurdity Of Trying To Eat...

Lately, and for some unknown reason, we've been getting smacked with boatloads of circulars and fliers for fast food in our mailbox.  Don't they know that we are so far off the radar food-wise that those poor trees, and their poor tree pulp, are for naught ending up in our USPostal box?

That said, it started me thinking about food, our society, medical & social problems, money, corporations, greed, nutrition... and how the whole ugly enchilada dovetails nicely into ignorant consumerific bliss.

For example:

Today we received a Domino's circular for 4 pizzas/your choice of 2 toppings per pie/2 two litter bottles of high fructose [or NutraSweet] laden death juice, for $11.99.  And they -also- thoughtfully included some kind of stupid doorknob hanger [like you'd use in a hotel for "Do Not Disturb" or "Please Clean Room"] to let their driver know you need an extra couple minutes to make it to the door... I guess because you're either so broke you are trying to scrounge a rubber check together-that even though it'll bounce tomorrow, that pizza will go down smooooth tonight, "who cares about tomorrow's check when I got tonight with Domino's": or too busy shooting all the ascorbic acid-laden pizza sauce, from last night's Pizza Hut coupon, out your ass to make it to the door by the third knock.
Then there was Arby's and their celebration of their delicious [and obviously nutritious] Beef-n-Cheddar for a mere .30 cents [when you buy a large soda and large fry].  Hmmm, Good Eats right there.
KFC, more of the same: Lots for Little.
Taco Bell too.
And Subway [eat smartly tailored luncheon meat with plenty of nitrites/nitrates , and that really cool double bonus of: a completely insidious parent company that attempts to make you feel like you're in good hands and really being taken care of by using the name, "Doctors Associates ", and that Jared  fellow too... what's not to love??].

Amy and me started talking about this, and it started out as funny, really funny... and then it became sorta upsetting, and then a touch angering too.  We've been there and done that: believing in -at maximum- the power of "Immediate Gratification" and -at minimum- the power of saving a buck because, well heck, those companies really want us to save some money tonight when we plunge face-first into a big, steaming pile of artificial food.

That Domino's flier, for instance... for that amount of bread, for all that wonderful non-food laced with artificial flavoring and chemicals, trucked thru the night from a factory warehouse in Ann Arbor, Michigan straight to your local Domino's pizzeria, and then re-assembled, fresh by 21 year olds, making 5 bucks an hour [or 45 year olds who are shit-out-of-luck on their child support payments], straight out of tubs & cans, and onto and into your [or someone you know] mouths... we can buy, precisely this:

3 heads of romaine lettuce, 3 bell peppers, a couple bunches of fresh garlic and 1 carrot.  Precisely enough to make part of something, but none of anything completely that we eat.  And how the ^&%# did that happen??  Who thought up this brilliant idea anyway??  Fake food costs less to buy than real food/real food has become so expensive that -even if you can brainwash some dolt like me [Me] into eating it and making it every single day for Me & My family- that it becomes a struggle to afford.

That's one way to keep folks getting sicker and fatter, while these same corporations -also- donate money, and pay lip service, to everything from the American Cancer Society and American Heart Association to various campaigns that show their concern [and support "for?"] over obesity, diabetes, and other nasty things that happen to folks when they use their coupons.

So, seriously, how did it happen that food ["food"] laced with chemicals and other goodies came to cost so little while a single tomato -out of season- costs more than a hamburger at McDonald's or DQ or your local Mom&Pop drive-in?  And a single tomato -in season- costs 1/2 to 3/4 of that same burger?  What an excellent and brilliant message to send to folks on eating and nutrition... what an excellent message to send to kids forming their mindsets and thought processes for, and on, life & living.

Makes me think: "They want to keep us fat, sick, over-fed and under-nourished... and going to the doctor for all those Meds so that we can keep eating the same non-food foods".

Another one that really gets me, but especially Amy [she's an RN]... is this one ad on tv for some kind of gastric reflux pill [under the counter, a real prescription kinda Med].  In the ad they show this standard looking American male: balding, kinda chubby, a real "Guy" kinda guy: works hard, owns a house, is good to his wife and kids, drives a normal car [whatever that means] and got a mini-van for his wife... a good sort.  But the poor bastard likes his fries, buffalo wings, onion rings with plenty of ketchup... and he's having a real bitch of a time eating them without suffering from heartburn and reflux [i.e. burping up hot, acidic, nasty bile].  Poor Joe, what can a "Good, Hard Working, American Guy" do in that sort of hellish situation??  I guess the Forbes 500 pharmaceutical company wouldn't want him, or millions like him, thinking something irrational like, "Hmmm, stop eating that food, Einstein".  Nope, make a drug, advertise said drug to him and millions like him, implant the idea in his noggin that his woes aren't to be tolerated in silence, or deprivation of non-food foods, and get off your couch and go to your Doc for the new pill... so you can keep eating that same crap day in and day out.  And of course, those same foods aren't agreeing with you because they not only over stimulate the byjesus out of your upper GI, create ginormous gallons of stomach acid... but they're also sitting in your colon, thickening your blood to the consistency of mayonnaise, all while nicely hardening up your wiring harness to & from your heart.  But hey, you only live once, you work hard, and by god you deserve those buffalo wings while sitting on your ass during Sunday's football game marathon.  Good on ya.

If a pharmaceutical company invents -and sells- something to replace the leg from someone who had theirs ripped off in an accident, I'm all for it [and they do, by the way]; or can put the heart from an already dead Spider Monkey into the chest of a kid born with a bad one [rock it, but they don't]; or new eyes into someones mom who had hers blinded by an accident at the kitchen sink while acid-washing her kids jeans for 'Dress Down Day' at Catholic school [I'm down with that too, but they don't--and anyway Stevie Wonder should have first dibs on those new eyes in my opinion, but only if he stops using so many electronics and starts returning to his music of the 60's and 70's]... but a Med for someone who knowingly eats shit, has physical problems because of their habit of eating shit, refuses to stop eating aforementioned shit, needs a newly-invented Med to keep allowing him to continue to eat shit...

no, he and his ilk can burp up fire like a dragon from the hellforge of gas and bile until the end of time, right along with the company pandering that crap to him, before I'll have an ounce of pity on the guy. 

Now, some company wants to drop a couple million into educating folks on those same foods and their effects on you, your body, your health... that would be great.  But that won't/will-never happen... because information and education create freedom and intelligence, and those companies do NOT want anyone having too much of that nonsense.  After all, they need their market share... and the standard good-time-Charlie-American: well, he needs his favorite foods.

I want to see, tomorrow, in our mailbox, a coupon sheet from somewhere that reads:

"Buy just one radish, and get 6 fresh, organic tomatoes for just .30 cents each [limit of 6 per visit]"

"Today only... 4 heads of romaine lettuce, 2 pounds of fresh asparagus, 6 bunches of fresh garlic, 10lbs of chick peas, 1 gallon of tahini and 6 pounds of organic bananas for $11.99, delivered in 30 minutes or it's on us!"

...and you know what, they can keep their stupid doorknob hanger too [even if it's made from recycled Subway wrappers & Domino's pizza boxes].

 

Keep Ridin'... Always

Sometimes the Inside is, Outside...

To my way of thought, I don't quite follow why the struggle for space and power are so pullingly strong to so very many. 

Defining "Space": property, house/yard/fence, not being pushed-nor being touched by a stranger, not being bumped into in a line, a big car that not only allows for space inside-but takes up plenty of it on the road too... all, for instance.

Defining "Power": money, more things, better things than ones neighbor/parents/friends... ways to define yourself as a skosh bit 'up and above' you & yours... longer and further-away-from-home vacations, faster/newer/more high-tech things, and- keeping ourselves distanced from personalized contact with things, experiences and people in the very world we exist in.

Personally I don't want to be trapped inside myself trying to keep up with the Jones' or even trying to keep up with what the latest magazine [corporation] told me I should have.  Seems to me that the more one tries to play that sort of game, the more they get stuck inside their own system of worth... and that's the opposite of communal or community.  I'm starting to suspect that is what may, possibly, be many of our problems in modern times -the times we currently reside in- and it just appears to get worse and worse.

Why isn't it enough to be good, maybe even to shoot for great?  But not by buying things & stuff, but by doing things & stuff?  Is it not good enough anymore to be fair, decent, caring, empathetic and "there" for folks?

Tonight I came across a man sitting in a wheelchair, half on the street/half on the sidewalk, near where we live... right across the street from Skol liquor store.  He was bobbing his head up and down, kinda half awake and half asleep... and he was smiling while crying.  As I stopped to ask him if everything was alright... he looked up and said to me, "Be careful son, I just pissed myself... see the puddle?".  I then realized that yes, there was a sizable puddle around him on the street... and yep, it smelled like urine.  Really strong urine.  I asked him again if he needed help.  He started crying and said, "No one cares for shit about anyone anymore".

That really bothered me.  A lot.  Because, in a way, he's right.  So interesting what we've evolved into, that we are increasingly occupied with worries about things that -worry or nay- are going to go down regardless.  Personally: worrying about money, paying a bill, buying something new or better... all of it and more, never actually got any of those things accomplished, ever.  And perhaps worst of all: is the way we've all become so desensitized to directly helping others...

sure, we can donate to worthy causes at work-all directly withdrawn from the paycheck-while making, both, employee and employer feel better while we all get down to the really tough business of 'keeping our distance' and continuing to worry about the really important things [i.e. bills, how to buy things, keep things, and make more bread].  I'm starting to think it's really an issue of Control [and to what end or means... like owning something, really makes that thing yours?].

"Well, I agree with you... but, for me, I disagree because I'm here and I'm asking you what I can do", I told him.  He looked up at me and asked for money for some "gin".  Sort of figured that was coming.  Quandary time.  I'm quite familiar with this thing coming from the NYC area, and while I'm accustomed to it, it still perplexes me every time.  "Should I, Shouldn't I?", I always think to myself.  I could care less about a few dollars or even a 5 dollar bill, and I don't want someone doing something really stupid, silly or harmful to themselves or worse, someone else, to feed their personal monkey.  Such simple inquires can result in larger dilemmas.  Frankly, it's a real bitch.

Does this person have a place to stay, food to eat?  He might not care, and that's cool too... certainly not for me to judge.

Man, the smell coming off this older gent was intense.

While I'm thinking hard, he falls back asleep.  I dismount my bike and wheel him off the street and back up and onto the sidewalk.  He keeps snoring.

I'm no patron saint to be sure, but stuff like this really bothers me... and when it heaves down on me, I feel like it -each & every time- defines a small slice of what and who I am.  My ultimate worth... because if I'm not trying to help someone, when they ask [or even if they just look like they would, but can't], what is the point of anything else?

Sometimes it's easier to keep the blinders on [and I did that lots, and very well, back east... but even there, then, they'd fall off and I'd have to do something-no matter how small].

What am I capable of... how far can, or will, I go to do Right?  Others times, I feel [right or wrong] like I'm doing this to atone for some stupid, crappy thing I've done to someone long forgotten about.  Like an old teacher would tell me when I was teen, "Sometimes you gotta bleed for others... ".

So I go across the street to Skol, buy a bottle of water and a pint of gin, and go back over to the guy in the wheelchair.  In the bag, with the gin & water, I put in some kleenex from my saddle bag, a smallish bag of sunflower seeds and a five dollar bill.  I tuck the whole deal into the guys jacket, after lifting his drooping head off his chest.  His skin feels like dried out leather.  He keeps snoring.

I roll on.

After some more miles, I head back home... and decide to go by that corner again.

He's still there, still sleeping...

...and the bag has fallen out from underneath his jacket.

The pint of gin is broken on the sidewalk, while the bottle of water must have rolled out and onto the street and has been run over by a car or bus. 

I hope the tissues, seeds and money are still in the bag...

In the end, I think kids -little kids- get "It" right.  When you're only so tall, and it's easier to look down -and not up- you see a lot of things.

And most, if not all, of them: are outside.

Keep Ridin'... Always

The Day After, And The Day Of...

Yesterday, and last night, Amy and me celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary... I had silly thoughts of an after-dark cycle ride: but the pelting rain and high winds pretty much threw that idea into the garbage can.  Oh, and completing her gift too... which, in my per usual poor time-estimated mind, would take 2-3 hours to finish, instead took 7 hours.  And that was with calling in the Big Dawgs of friend's BBBB for fender & drivetrain expertise and IMARKMPLS.com for handlebar bling [after they split, I still spent another 4 hours installing, tuning, testing, polishing and tightening this & that].

But I got it done.

And Amy was, and is thrilled!  So it was a success [thanks to fellow brothers: Mark, Bob and B.].

The before:

And the After...

[click any of 'em for Big]

And the Cycler, herself:

...and the jackhole she married 10 years ago:

Happy 10th Anniversary, Amy!!

And in other news...

Today was also Weigh-In Day.

Weight:  214.0 pounds

Weight on Last Weigh-In [March 22nd, 2008]:  219.8 pounds

Loss Of:  5.8 pounds

Total Loss Since November, 2005:  287.0 pounds

Doing the same eating, riding even more: little odd that it's my 2nd smallest loss since November of '05.  But as Amy points out with much vigor, "Scott, they've all been losses -you've never, once, had a gain- and last summer in August you had your smallest loss [4.6 pounds on August 5th] and you were riding in the heat and humidity of summer".  Amy wants to get some calipers and do some measurements on me to determine with some kind of arcane mathematical/medical theory what my deflated skin weighs.  She's of the mind that basically I'm walking around with 30 pounds of empty skin on me, and in essence my body currently weighs around 184.0 pounds.  Yeesh, that's a lot smaller than I ever imagined.

Going on a big ride tomorrow with the girls...

Keep Ridin'... Always

Amy...

So here it is:

May 2nd, 2008, our 10th wedding anniversary.  I know you'll read this before I am up because you always check in here early in the AM... so consider this an early surprise [hopefully in a good way].  Do me a favor? 

Press This, Turn Up The Volume... and then read on
For you: a performance from Chris.  The last time we saw him at the Bowery Ballroom, Chloe was growing in your belly.  There we were, the three of us, sitting in the balcony [remember you placing my hand on your belly because Chloe would start kicking like mad when Chris played?].

Wow, time has gone too fast.

And to think it had a beginning...

So, where to begin?  At the beginning, I would think.

I knew this guy [sorta] who, in May of 1997, swallowed hard, gulped the lump in his throat down even harder, and made a call.  Made a call to a woman named, Amy.  Man... the voice on the other end of that phone, that night, was unreal/unbelievably beautiful to my ears after all the writing.  To finally assign a voice -your voice- to all those words, nectar... pure nectar.

It was you.

And then, after talking for hours, you said "We should get together, spend a week together and see how this goes". 

So, I left NYC and drove to Cleveland, Ohio and picked you up at the airport because you had offered meeting me halfway: you in a rental car to be dropped in Cleveland, and then we'd continue driving onto Michigan and the rented house.

I almost turned my car around twice on that drive to Cleveland... nope, not because of you, because of me.  You were the best thing I'd ever known, and I didn't want to disappoint.  But... I kept going.  I kept driving.  Faster.

And then, at 10pm [me late, as usual]... there you were.  I offered you my hand for a shake, and you looked at it, looked up at me, and instead planted a kiss on my cheek, and smiled.  I'm pretty certain my hands/fingers were embedded into the steering wheel... I was so nervous.

You were already my best friend.

And me... I was falling madly, insanely, in love with you.

And I still am in 2008...

From that day on, July 11th 1997, I have never been away from your side.  And in August of that same year, I -even though you knew what was coming because I was so nervous and preoccupied- asked for you to marry me, and you said, "In a second, of course... Yes!".  Recall that drive straight-thru from Michigan to Camden, Maine to have our wedding rings made?  And then sweating over what each of us would write in the others Gimmel bands?  And to this day we haven't shown anyone what's written inside them.

And then I, somehow, got the Mayor of Ann Arbor, Michigan to agree to marry us... and even though it poured rain and we couldn't have the ceremony in the Rose Garden of the Arboretum,

[look familiar?]

and I melted down when we couldn't get a hold of the mayor by phone to confirm the alternate plan and location: eventually everything worked out.  We found ourselves with her, the mayor, in her chambers at City Hall, and you had yelled at me to calm down, and I became silent and wouldn't talk to anyone for a while... we got there.  We always do.

My god, you were so incredibly beautiful that day... and every day before/since.  I almost passed out: my buddy Tony had to tell everyone to take a knee for me because I almost dropped.  And then I couldn't talk when it was my turn to read what I had written for you.  And you said, months before, that you were sure what you were writing for me would pale in comparison to what I was writing for you.  Do you remember this?  I do.  And then, on our wedding day, you read what you had written and everyone -including the mayor- was dripping tears.  And what I written for you, well... at best, and while it was honestly from my heart- was completely evaporated by your words for me.  Appropriate really though... you always do that to me: evaporate me with you, your beauty, your honesty, your smile, your grace and charm, your everything... Every Thing.  You've got me by light years, always have/always will.

And then you gave us Chloe in October of 1999.  You always give the best things.

So many memories.  Really, it's overwhelming that only 10 years can give up so much underneath only a small layer of soft grassy time.

What I offer you, I'm still not entirely certain of.  Honestly.  But I do know this...

I was invented to be with you.

And for that, and infinite amounts more, I am beyond thankful for every minute of every day with you.

What an adventure all this is becoming, you know?

Amy, I love you more every day.

Thank You, for You...  

Chloe Responds To The...

...Twin Cities version of The Springer Show:

"What?!?!  How can a bike hurt a car, or the people in that car?  That's dodo talk dad... what is goin' on here anyway?  Don't those people get it?!?!  We're trying to save Mother Nature and that's what we get back from them??"

~Chloe, age 8 Minneapolis, MN

To which I'll add: a piece I contributed recently to another Cyclering Blog called, Veloquent:

My entry.

And then close with this thought:

Society in general, and People specifically... are starting to scare the crap out of me with their total self-absorbed, self-entitled stupidity.

Keep Ridin'... Always

Me thinks, "Nay" on the Brevet...

Everything that I had conjured in my mind regarding the 200km Brevet on May 10th and how my schedule would correspond with that time frame has gone the opposite, or so it feels.

First off, the weather.  I had seriously hoped for a much sooner transition from Winter Setup to Non-Winter Setup.  That got continually snafu'd by... well, yep-you guessed it, the weather.

Then, once that transition went down... more weather: snow, wind, sleet... and now, more cold [+wind, rain, sleet, rinse/repeat, rinse/repeat].

But also... discomfort.  Lots of discomfort.  Initially and immediately following the bike transition, all was well.  Actually, all was better than well... it was fabulous.  But then... and with little experience to truly know about such things [because this was the first seriously serious winter I've ever ridden in... how would I know?], I went from riding in thick-soled Keen boots to much thinner-soled Shimano riding shoes.  And instead of lowering my saddle, I raised it.  And the reason I raised it was this... it made sense to me.  After doing so, I wasn't rocking my hips [sure sign of a too-high saddle] and I still had a nice bend to my knees on a full-on 6 O'clock on the cranks: both left-n-right [another sign of a not too-high saddle height].  But then...

my crotch, specifically, my Man Parts started to throb.  And I mean THROB.  Like I had been repeatedly kicked by a donkey in my schnuttz.  For two, almost three, days I was completely miserable.  Taking Motrin and Tylenol like candy... aching pain trailing up into my stomach, lower back, and it wouldn't let up.

Meanwhile, the days kept ticking toward the Brevet, and I'm not getting any longer rides in.  Longest rides have been a handful of 35'ers with lots of hills.  But I keep trying my best...

I go and buy new shorts, thinking I need more chamois between me and saddle + a tighter fit [one of the effects of my shrinking weight loss is I have no ass left, so nearly every article of clothing hangs baggy on me/behind me]. 

Oh, and one more saddle adjustment... I raise it, yet, again [like a moron].  Funny thing is: again, no hip rocking and no full knee extension.

But the crotch -and Man Pains- come back in their full, red-hot, aching glory.  Oh and also this... my legs have a shitload of power onto the cranks and pedals.  Cool!

However, my Manions win out [as things with 15 billion nerve endings per square mm tend to] and the saddle comes down... not once, but twice.  And I should add too... as the saddle was going higher incrementally, I also adjusted down the nose: thinking, "Okay, I've always liked a nose upward on my Brooks, but as this thing is going up in height, so the nose is even more so... directly into my privates".  And so down it came too.

So now here's where I am:

Saddle + Nose are comfortable.
Not feeling any real ability to power down on my cranks and pedals though [and that's the one that is driving me mad].
Front of my shins fatigue quickly when I run flats at 20mph [give or take 1mph up/down].
Insides of my thighs fatigue slowly on hills in low gears at high cadences around 14 to 16mph.
Still no rides longer than 35 miles [give or take a couple miles].
Thinking I need to either:
A.  Bring the saddle forward on the rails slightly to get my legs into a better power ratio to cranks and pedals... but hesitant to do so, as I've never adjusted my fore/aft position, and also had no problems until now.
B.  Shut the hell up, and try my best to acclimate and adjust to things, and just be patient... but I worry that things aren't right for a reason, and I desperately want to find that reason and remedy it [but, again, fear the "two steps forward, three steps back" ball of wax of slowly making nearly everything on my ride uncomfortable].

And...

1 and 1/2 weeks until the biggest, longest ride of my life: a ride that means a great deal to me.

I feel less prepared than I did when I was riding studded tires [at least then, the rest of my bike was completely and utterly dialed-in and felt like a complete part of me].

Suddenly, I am feeling insane amounts of pressure to be, and do, something I -worry- I am not, and not ready for.

I cannot even begin to fathom going to the Start Line of this Brevet planning to not finish it.  I can, however, not finish it... if, and only if, I -that is, my body or mind, cannot go further.  But to know I am going there and not comfortable and confident of my ride and me on my ride...

...that, I cannot do.

Kinda feeling defeated and a little heartbroken about all this.

Keep Ridin'... Always

Dissatisfaction with the Unnatural World:

Less and less I find you and your things interesting.  The fibers you've surrounded us in: are not of my choosing and I wouldn't have picked them for me or myself.  I don't need to be clobbered by your signs and images... I Get It, I'm just not interested in It.  I'm not your guy: I want no part of it/on it/in it.

I've dropped out, and you only miss my participation through money and presence.  You won't get it from me, of me, ever again.

You sell and buy, and I have nothing of that sort of ilk to offer.

I can't make what you want and need, so I am of zero concern to you.

You have tried your level best to separate me from me and that worked until it didn't.

Now I see with infrared fierceness into your glowing towers of Stuff, and it -and your- banal ways operate in the smallest, least consequential confines of my brain.  Only enough of you occupies my mind that I remember to, both, laugh at and loath you.

You're less than minor.

You've been reduced to a crumb of scorn in the dusty margins of me.

You own+are nothing of/to Me.

Keep Ridin'... Always

50/50 Odds? No...

  and...

Little ditty about Phil and Schmidtane
Two international hubs growin' up in the heartland
Phil's gonna be my front hub
Schmidtane, debutante back wheel of LFoaB's cycle

Suckin' down green backs outside the LBS
Schmidtane sittin' in LFoaB's messenger bag
He's got his hands between her chromed flanges
Phil says, hey Schmidtane lets run off
Behind a shady tree
Dribble on that linseed oil with spokes -n- nipples
Let me do what I please
And LFoaB say a

Chorus:
Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of high-end parts is gone
Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of creakin' & lateral play in hubs is gone, they walk on

LFoaB sits back reflects his thoughts for a moment
Scratches his head and does his best "How the ^%#! can two hubs, from two different parts of the world, that cost this much bread, end up bought by the same person for the same wheelset, and BOTH-have issues [one, for sure, to been returned for service out in ol' San Jose, Cali]??"

Well you know Schmidtane we oughta run of the city
Schmidtane says, baby you ain't miss no-thing
LFoaB say a

Chorus:
Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of high-end hubs is gone
Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of Brevetin' is gone

Gonna let it rock
Let it roll
Let the Shimano Deore hub come down
And save my soul
Hold on to Nashbar catalogs as long as you can
Changes comin round real soon
Make us women and men

Little ditty about Phil and Schmidtane
Two international hubs not doin' the best they can

~lyrics borrowed from John Mellencamp
~lyrics arranged by LFoaB due to both of my new hubs causing me much heartache

That is all...

Keep Ridin'... Always

You never stop the bleeding...

Loss:

It's such an endless waterfall of emotion... run by the wattage of memories, millions of 'What-If's'... 'What-Was-To-Come's'... 'Man-This-Woulda-Been-So-Much-Better-If-They-Had-Seen-This-Too' and the darkest chocolate of bittersweetness.

Ever since I was a little boy I worried about losing people close to me, and I always thought/think of it this way...

Based on age, the younger one is, the "Vertical Losses" are the worst ["Vertical" meaning up the family tree... i.e. parent[s].  The ones above, and sometimes, below us].

At a certain age, perhaps mid-20's and up, but I'm not really certain, the "Horizontal Losses" take the greater toll ["Horizontal" meaning to our sides: the best of the best friends, siblings, and of course... husbands, wives, mates: the folks who know more about us than, in the best of ways, we do of us].

And then, when, or if, children re-enter ones cosmos the two directions of Vertical & Horizontal Loss meld into a single form of varying shapes & colors.

But where I got stuck was this...

My mother, Janice Evelyn Cutshall, was not only my mom -the Mom of Mom's- she was my best friend in a way that more often than not was subtle and hinted at.  I was/am a kind of carbon-blueprint copy of her.

And boy, do I miss her.  11 years after her passing, and growing more bothered that I cannot remember the sound of her voice, I miss her.  The sayings, the phrases, the stories, yes... the pitch and timbre, no.

When she was dying, she blamed herself for my weight.  It was insanely kind of her, and completely wrong too.  She, and I'll always remember this, said to me in this very slight, frail voice, almost a whisper... "I am so worried about your weight, having to go it alone, after I'm gone.  You know I blame myself for it.  I should have been... something, I should have... ".  And that was what she said. 

I always thought the word she wanted, based on standard stereotypes of parenting, was:

"Harder"... "Harder on you, Scott".

And she couldn't say it. 

How much love is wrapped in not allowing yourself the use of a word, or phrase, while you are passing from this Life, this World, and just not allowing yourself to say that to your youngest son?

So much grace, so much dignity, so much strength and last...

...so much bravery.

When I think of Amy, and when I think of Chloe... those are the two people that wound me the most that my mom -the Mom of Mom's- isn't here for/to see/to know/to Everything.

So, in the end, I am stuck... stuck, in the concept devised by an over-thinking little boy originally from Northwestern Pennsylvania, that Vertical meshes with Horizontal and when the thought of her -the Mom of Mom's- enters my head, yet again, I am of the realized notion that:

Real bleeding never stops.

Keep Ridin'... Always

Last Night, and then, Today...

Had a belated B-Day celebration for our pal, Mark last night.  Gifted him w/various accoutrement's of food-bikey & Chloe-crafted prosaic goodness.  And then sent him on his way back thru the dark night of Minneapolis with a mild beer buzz and balloons [all pics -clickable for larger]:

The belated Birthday Boy & Chloe.

Mounting up and getting ready to roll...

Oh my, Chloe calls for a Backyard Derby.

Nothing says "Bad Ass" like Surly+Fixie+Balloons...

Chloe gives 'em the old East Coast, "Get yer %#$! outta my driveway... "

...and with that, the Party was over.  Good Times.

And then today, the weather was absolutely stunningly beautiful.  So I rolled solo while the girls did some errands.

First I rolled thru The Minneapolis and did some elevation riding because I like hurting [some times more than others]... and then I rolled into The Saint Paul for more of the same [which is rather easy to do as SP is nothing but one big hill ~or so it seems to me on occasion].

Chloe and Amy met me in SP for some caffe, and I finally got some snaps [but, of course, the bike was a touch more dirty than it was 2 weeks ago right after she had her Spring Cleaning/Brevetization].

First, The Chicks w/me:

 

The Bike ready to... Go:

 

 

Keep Ridin'... Always