Starting Over (...Again)

Quickened breath. Butterfly heart. I walk in DC streets.

The light won't change. Come on. Change!

Cross. Hop curb. Grasp handle. Open door. Breathe.

Oh, that stench. It hits me. They gym's earthy-chemical melange. It smells good.

Some things never change.

- - -

People tell me I look great! They like my hair...my emerging beard...they see life in my eyes.

But they don't see what's within. That's mine.

I plunge. The water shocks me. Cold. Core-cold.

Shivering, I stretch out, reaching. Fluid floating—I'm buoyant! I smile. For a second. Then I bite down, grimacing. Float = fat. I'm fat. It's not aesthetics; it's practical. My legs used to be muscle; they sank like stones. Now they float. I have much work to do.

Underwater creaking. Popping. Sharp edges in my joints.

Sinews protest. Long-forgotten movements...motions...odd, yet, familiar. Muscle memory. I start to flow.

But, it hurts.

- - -

This can end at any time.

I know.

No. Not that. You can *stop* at any time."

Yes. THAT. And I KNOW I can stop.

So...stop. No one's watching. No one will know. No one cares.

Fuck you.

- - -

I sputter. Chlorine burns my nose, my throat, my eyes. My shoulder screams. My knee stabs. I'm struggling.

And so it goes...

You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.
—Stuart Scott

If you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know I've been searching and struggling and surviving and finding my place. I'm becoming. I'm finding balance.

There are things I want to do and places I want to go and people I want to meet. Yes, I have a bucket list.

It's very long.

When my body hurts, these things keep me going. Some may not seem bucket-list worthy. But, it's my list, not yours.

• I will ride my fatty in the 2015 Patapsco 100. I will do better than in 2014.
  
• I will ride both days of Pelotonia 2015.
• I will race cyclocross in 2015. See you at DCCX, Schooley Mill, and Rockburn!
• I will ride from DC to Columbus, and then ride all of Pelotonia 2016. Because. Dammit.
• I will cross the bay by water. In 2016.
• I will earn my ink. By 2018...before I am 50.
• I will earn my brick.
• I will race across the sky.
• I will see America...by bike.

There will be hard days.

Some things never change.

The long journey has begun.

I have a long way to go. I cannot do it alone. I will lean on you for support. For guidance. To learn. To recover.

What will be will be what will be.
I've got this.