Bridging.....
There are times when you have to simply do something, anything, to stay on course. The problem is, that course isn't always clear. That is what typically becomes of "the off-season". Ah yes, that "off-season" thing again. Truth is, we all have our off-seasons, just in unique variations. When I was in high school and college, that period was typically between sports, or other recreational activities. During these times, we'd always have something to occupy our days - mostly focusing on something over that horizon, which was the "purpose". As time rolled along, those "things" ceased to exist. Without something to drive toward, many would simply loose their way and drift into.....some other crap that just wasn't part of the plan. Still, doing something just for the sake of "doing it" can be kind of senseless, or at least appear to be so. At some point I know I lost track of what was really important to me, or so it seems now. The things we have to learn the hard way...
A true giant of a man....
I recently ran across a picture from June 1979 - yes, in the previous century. I was at national football camp, with kids from all over the country. I could write volumes about that experience, but this picture was something. I distinctly remember the day it was taken. As camp participants, we had our individual pictures taken with Randy Gradishar, Haven Moses, Phil Olsen and Jack Youngblood. At the time, none of knew the story behind Youngblood's experience the night before in the Cactus Club. Later that morning, just before session drills and practice, he addresses the entire group of about 300 "campers". I remember thinking to myself, the wind wouldn't dare blow while that man was talking. It wasn't that he was this massive piece of humanity, rather he simply commanded.....whatever it is that he commands. It was a couple nights later I found out from our dorm floor adviser, who had picked-up Youngblood from the airport when he came into town, what had happened that night at the Cactus Club (nobody else had ever heard this story before). A few years later, when Youngblood retired, I read an article that mentioned that very event. Regardless of what you may read online, it happened in '79, and I was in the presence of that "god" the very next morning. Back to that picture; Olsen was staring intently at me, this screwy kid that thought "I was really something". But there I was in the company of these four legends. That week I played with some truly talented guys, busted my nose again and learned a lot. Helluva good time. The kid in that picture was still in touch with reality and had a view of the future. I had to stop and think what all had happened since that time, and why I may have otherwise lost my way. For the next several years, I trained myself, with absolutely no help from anyone else. Night after night, week after month ongoing, I would walk over to the high school football field, do my thing and return home - alone. Maybe it was because I didn't know any better. Perhaps I didn't have anything better to do with my time. One thing is for sure; it was a physical manifestation of who I was. Man, what that stupid kid just didn't know.
Everything to lose, a lot more to gain...
There is a kid from those days that was a great wrestler, baseball player and incredible artist that I've caught up with recently. Without describing the specifics, I can tell you he can't do anything like that anymore. His body is a broken vessel of what it used to be. I lost track of him sometime in college, after he traded one of his detailed pencil drawing prints, in exchange for working on his snow skis. I still have the print and had it matted and framed many years ago. As life happens, we went our separate ways - until ten months ago. Through this experience I have been left focusing on what we both were forty years ago. His situation has nothing to do with any of his life's choice, it is simply the crappy luck of life's draw. With everything else that has been happening this past year, I've had to stop and look at things with a different perspective. Without a deadline like a race, or other pressing events, I could easily sit back and let life take over. I'm not willing to let that happen, but then again.... we've covered that "willingness" thing before, haven't we? I ride because I still can, and more so, it is a physical extension of who I am. That age thing is for someone else.
The riding this week was good. Scratch that, it was great! Five times up on the "Mule". Two nights ago, so cold I couldn't feel my face at the top - with sweat pouring out of my helmet. I couldn't feel my fingers all the way home. It was GREAT!. The next night, I ran into a familiar face. Made me remember what life was really like back in those days. Tonight, I had planned to put in a few hours, but making some adjustments to the bike, limited my time to climbing "the Mule" again. The bike is running well. The tires are fantastic. They do have a funny characteristic in the front in a specific condition - but great! I've noticed one place up top where I "washed-out" back in July, has become spot where several people have crashed. There is a big hole in the brush where a lot of riders have completely missed the turn. At least I stayed on the single track when I bought it. Tonight was totally empty of anyone else on the mountain. The pic above is where I both catch the single track (behind me in this image), and where I get off. One big loop. From here, I'm less than five minutes from my garage. It is here where I can check my daily cares at the trailhead going up. If I ride fast enough going home, they won't catch me until after I'm in the garage. Beat that...
Ride HARD! (while you can)
