learning to fly

Learning to fly:

i knew it was coming. i had the entire ride up here to think about it. it wont be so bad. i’ll just charge it. “grip it and rip it,” i had said with such bravado. easy to say from the comfort of the car. now that i’m standing on top if it, it’s another story all together.

baby steps. walk before running. one step at a time, bla bla bla… useless mantras that might make sense somewhere, but not right now. i want to be somewhere else. all i can see are the 98 different ways this can go wrong. not enough speed, crash. too much speed, crash. too far forward, crash. too far back, crash. you get the picture. it looks impossibly far. it looks impossibly tall. did i mention i want to be somewhere else.

yes i am scared. yes i am nervous. it’s a completely irrational thing to do. it is the opposite of safe and sane. but a part of me wants to go. go over. i could walk away, but that’s not why i came. i came here to learn. learn to fly…

a challenge

I know he’s out there. Before I even push the bike out the front door, I can just tell I’ll run into him. I promised myself I would take it easy today. I’ve earned a nice easy ride in for once, I try justify. The first few pedals feel good, as I shake the lethargy out off my weary legs. The cool morning air bites at my face and dusts the sleep from my eyes. It is the perfect morning to for a nice mellow pedal into work. But it is not to be…as I round the corner, I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye.

Him. That guy. The one on the beat up old mountain bike that squeaks like an old hamster wheel. The one decked out in workout clothes that would make any 80’s gym teacher proud. That middle aged looking guy with the grey beard and a helmet older than his college graduate son. Him.

I suppose that I could just let him ride by, but I can’t. I suppose I should just ignore my urge to pass him, but I won’t. I suppose I could just ride to work at my own pace, but I don’t.

Most days, he passes just ahead of me as I reach the first intersection, and I spend the rest of my ride pedaling my heart out to try and pass him. And I never do… Much to my chagrin, he is fast. He is fast despite his ancient clunker bike that looks like it might explode any second under the unrelenting pressure of his tennis shoed feet. He is fast despite looking like an extra from a Richard Simmons workout. He is very fast and I think he is unaware of just how fast he is.

I have caught him before. When he’s ahead of me, I take every risk, cut every corner, and use every bit of bike handling skill I can muster. I can catch him most days, sometimes with the help of a well timed light, but I can catch him. I just cannot pass him. There have been days when I have hovered feet off his rear wheel, summoning every ounce of effort I have to stay with him, and then he begins to pull away. As agrivating as this is to me, I don’t think he is aware of what he is putting me through. I’m not even sure if he knows I’m there. Some mornings we will sit at a light together, bikes only a few feet apart, me just behind him, yet we do not speak. I can swear he’s not even breathing hard. He doesn’t acknowledge me as we wait for the light to turn and resume our quiet little war. Well, it is war for me…

But today is different. I see him out of the corner of my eye and he’s down the street a ways. I sprint, clearing the intersection and for once, I’m ahead of him! I don’t wait for anyone to cheer. I put my head down and put the screws to the machine and I am flying. I steal a quick glance behind. He’s not gone, but he’s not getting any closer. Maybe this was all in my head. Maybe he’s not that fast after all. Maybe I will get my nice easy ride today.

Just as I start to congratulate myself, I sense something behind me. I cant see him there, but I can feel him. The squeak, squeak of his rusty chain just barely audible. Inches off my back wheel, I can sense his effort, feel his breath beating down my neck. I know it’s hurting him to stay with me but I wont let up. I push myself harder knowing that this could be the day…
And it is. As I make my turn to where we would normally part ways, I am ahead of him, but only just. I am spent. It took everything I had to fend him off, but I did it! Before the realty of what I have accomplished has set in, I notice that he has turned as well and has just coasted by. As he does, he waves and nonchelantly says, “nice morning for a ride.” Watching him ride away from me, I’m struck by one thought only. He wasn’t even breathing hard….

inspriations

In time, the rigors and trials of city life lead oneself to search deeper to find meaning. Often this search leads us to nature, in who's environs one can both renew a connection with the natural rhythms of the world as well tests ones own medal. It was on one of these such forays that I found my self engaged in this past weekend with friends both old and new.

Our destination was the wilds of the Southern Cascades to climb the slopes of a mysterious volcano, named for John Q Adams (also know as Paddo or Klickitat by the natives). With little other information to go on about the mountain and a bleak weather forecast, our party set off into the unknown to confirm and test our own personal limits.

The journey from Seattle was long, but made pleasant by the company of such fine people. We passed the time with stories of our deeds and singing the songs of our youth. As darkness fell, we knew we would not be able to reach our intended destination, and were forced to bivouac near a small town in a very bucolic setting. After an excellent meal at an indigenous eatery, I was ready for bed. The five star amenities of nearby Paradise Plunge State Park offered an excellent nights sleep deep in pristine wilderness and greeted us in the morning with the calls of exotic and unknown fauna...

After a spartan breakfast and an arduous approach, we arrive at the trailhead ready to tackle our objective, despite a light pattering of hail on our hoods. As we headed off into the woods, the anticipation of the adventure that awaited made us giddy. The mountain was kind enough to grace our hike to base camp with the splendid and hospitable weather that the Northwest is famous for. Upon reaching our spacious bivouac for the 1st night, we set up camp and set right to work in preparing for the next days adventures, making sure to eat nutritiously as well as hydrating. After several hours of laboring, we turned in for the night, dreams of high summits and perfect weather filled our heads.

After a fitful nights sleep, we awoke to to what every climber dreams of - an amazing purple and red sunrise with perfectly clear sky and air so still, you could feel the flutter of passing butterflies. We quickly departed camp and made our way through the snow and rock of the lower mountain to arrive at the crux of the climb, a steep headwall of snow and ice. Our party began to make slow but steady progress up the intimidating slope in delightful conditions. After a pleasant, yet strenuous exertion, we reached our first objective of the climb, a false summit that obscured the actual top of the mountain. Our hopes of a successful climb were dashed as we crested the ridge to find the true summit obscured in a bank of clouds. Prudence being the better part of valor, we opted to cut our climb short and head for the safety of lower ground.

Our return trip down the headwall was made quickly as we mastered the art of glissading, where one either slides down the slope on ones backside, or balances precariuosly on the heals of ones feet and glides down upright like a skier. This somewhat undignified form of descending proved to both very effective and and invigorating endeavor indeed! Our descent back to our camp was made more difficult by light cloud cover, but we confidently navigated to our destination. After quickly packing up, we made the return trip back to the car with little incident on an exceptionally marked trail.

As I reflect back on the weekends adventures, i am once again filled with a sense of wonder and awe in nature and the power it can have. I am also reminded of my own limits and shortcomings as well as made more confident in my own strengths and abilities. i am thankful for sharing that adventure with such great people who have such similar yet diverging views of life and from who i have and will continue to learn much from and be inspired by.

an ode to ice tea

i pray to the saint of refreshment and drink his sacrament of choice

and in the chiming of the cubes, i swear i can hear his voice

my nectar it floweth freely, it's made from leaves all knowing

to drink one, one craves another, so keep the refills flowing

now comes the art of ice tea, separate from the science

to refill a glass without a second glance is truly an act of defiance

first and foremost - add more ice. this is the golden rule

for ice tea to be ice tea it needs ice to keep it cool

the second half of the equation - a lemon, like a kiss from the sun

sliced in a wedge and set on the edge, now your work is done

when it comes time to enjoy this blessing, please take a moment or two

listen to its secrets, to hear is call, and let it flow right through you...

breakfast all day

i wish that breakfast would last all day... it's not just my favorite meal, its so much more... a feeling, a memory, a moment caught in time. it's both practical and whimsical, pragmatic, yet lavish. where else can syrup and whipped cream be considered condiments? when else does the dessert come before the meal, or is the meal? breakfast fuels you for the day ahead and provides a time to plan and prepare. it's also a calm moment to reflect that can bring you to another place entirely... who can forget that lazy sunday morning of breakfast served on a tray in bed... when time seams to cost less, so you spend it freely. Breakfast nourishes the body, but it can also enrich the soul... it's time spent with yourself or in the company of friends (it's the only meal you eat with those who truly matter!) it's time spent that is selfish and decedent, yet responsible and needed. its a concurring contradiction that we see for what it is and want nothing more or less from it. if we could only live the rest of our lives like those moments....if only breakfast would last all day.