Yesterday’s Adventure

Hi there. I don’t know if anyone reads this except maybe my ex-fiancee and random people off the street because nobody responded to my call-out. If my ex is reading, she should probably stop. It would probably be better for her. Anyway, I wanted to post a link to the other blog I started recently where I’m posting . . . well, you should just check it out and see. I called it Your Daily Adventure and the idea was that I would write about funny stuff I see every day. I haven’t been doing it as much as I intended and the focus is sort of shifting, but it’s still fun. It’s now a side-project for my writing class, my contribution to our shared literary culture as the teacher put it. I’ll add a link for it to the side of this blog somewhere.

I haven’t been writing here because I’ve been busy working on other stuff including the other blog. Not only that but the only known audience I have for this crap is my ex and I thought maybe I would just let it die and not write anymore. I’m also sometimes hesitant to write about certain things based on that knowledge of my audience, but fuck it, eh? God, I drone on sometimes . . .

I went for a kick-ass ride the other day and then again yesterday. Kick-ass because I’ve been able to ride for a couple of hours without being completely dead at the end and because I can feel that I’m getting stronger when I climb hills or accelerate. Yesterday was especially kick-ass because all sorts of crazy, funny things happened. It was a typical spring day in Portland, sometimes warm and sunny, sometimes cold and rainy. I have fenders on my road bike now and I got rained on before recently so it’s no big deal. I headed out with a plan to do a new route. In the process, I got rained on, pulled on my rain jacket, then it stopped so I took it off, then it rained some more, put it on, stopped . . . Typical. Something about inclement weather makes me smile when I’m out working in it or working out. I like feeling tough, I guess.

So there was the weather, and I almost made myself crash when my rain jacket hooked onto my handlebars while I was putting it on with no hands on the bars, then I got lost when there was a detour on the route I had planned, my bike got filthy from the rain and muck, and I ripped my rain jacket. But none of it mattered. I kept shaking my head and cursing under my breath, but I was smiling the whole time. It was one of those things where shit happens and sometimes you just have to laugh. It helps that I was feeling good on the bike, even though I’m getting over a cold that knocked me out for a few days. The things that happened are all typical of being a cyclist, too. It reminded me of plenty of other times getting lost by myself or with a riding partner, and strange weather always gets you at some time. There’s no use getting mad or feeling sorry for yourself. Instead, it becomes fun. I’ve always had that mentality and it served me well in the Army because I didn’t whine and complain when the going got tough, I just kept going.

I got home after my ride and I probably had a big shit-eating grin on my face when I told my roommate about it and how much fun it was, regardless of all the “setbacks” and that’s when I found out my jacket had ripped, but I just said, “Oh, well,” and kept telling my story. Maybe sometimes it’s better to keep the good vibrations to yourself. He interrupted me and said, “Stop! Can you hear yourself right now?” I kind of knew what he was saying, but I made him spell it out. He said something to the effect that my perspective was positive and that I wasn’t letting any of the stuff that had happened get to me, and that usually my perspective wasn’t so positive and I was a bit more pessimistic. Or something like that . . . Geez. I appreciate the thought, but don’t interrupt a guy when he’s feeling good to grab the Good and point at it, saying, “Look! Look! You normally suck, but this is Good!”

So he interrupted my flow, how I was feeling good, but I blew it off and kept on feeling it. I also thought that he didn’t really know me that well. Those “setbacks” are exactly the kind of thing that make me smile and shrug, and that combined with feeling good on the bike and enjoying riding again were responsible for the good feeling. He also doesn’t realize that deep down I am a happy person. I slip into melancholy and depression quite easily, especially for the last, I don’t know, at least five years of my life, probably more. But things are changing and I’m recognizing some of the old feelings again. It’s really good. I talked about it with my mom and she agreed, too. I’m a happy, joyful person. I love to be in the moment, to make people laugh, to make myself laugh with silly things. There has just been a lot of funkiness in my life lately, but I’m movin’ on and it feels good.

Good to be back

Ah, Portland. It’s good to be back. I wouldn’t have said that a day or two ago. My homecoming was not the most exciting return ever. I was wearing jeans, flip-flops, a short-sleeve shirt and a light jacket as I walked out of Portland International Airport into the gray, steady drizzle that IS Portland. I’ve been freezing my ass off since. I don’t know if it’s because I spent three months in the desert, avoiding the cold weather of a North North American winter, if I just haven’t dressed properly or what. But the cold temperature and high humidity has been killing me. I thought about moving to Tuscon.

Add in jet-lag and a general feeling of “What the hell do I do now?” and you get the idea. But today the sun was shining. That’s happy moment #1. I had some more good coffee, produced by my own hand and 40 pounds of gleaming stainless steel. (Not the first time since I’ve been back, so I guess there were happy moments yesterday–every time I made coffee and felt the rush of making and consuming it cut through the gloom and doom of GRAY and “liquid sunshine.”) So happy moment #2 of the day. And then I decided to go for a bike ride.

There’s something very comfortable about familiar routines, right? We all know it. We’re creatures of habit. It was nice to experience the familiar sensation of getting ready for a ride. I pulled my bike down from the rack, made sure the tires were pumped up and the chain lubed, wiped her down with a rag to clean off the dust, pulled on my undershirt, tights, warm winter jersey and arm warmers. Thin skull cap to keep in the heat and cover my ears. Warm gloves. Shoe covers. Helmet. Glasses. Money and a jacket in the back pocket, along with my cell phone to call for help. This is nice. #3.

And then I hit the road. I decided to do a loop, longer than I probably should after no riding for months and not much physical activity, but I’m always a glutton for punishment on the bike. It feels good. Natural. Like riding a bike. Something you never forget. And it’s a special bike, at least to me. Smooth. I used to race. Everything just feels right. A little discomfort, but nothing I can’t handle. A ride. Happy Moment Number Four. Ahhh.

Riding through familiar neighborhoods, seeing some of the landmarks of Portland, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Hood, the Columbia River, the Willamette, the St. Johns bridge, Broadway, downtown. And these people. The familiar wave from certain motorists who recognize cyclists on the streets and accommodate them. The people wearing funky jackets, boots, hair. “Keep Portland Weird” is a popular bumper sticker. There are rugged individualists, hippies, writers, artists, cyclists, coffee geeks, beer geeks, friendly faces. It’s a city where it’s easy to connect with strangers. I’m waiting at a stop sign for the cross traffic to thin out, next to a woman waiting to turn left in her car. One of the cars crossing the intersection has a window rolled down, the female driver looking around, not sure where to go, I think, talking to her passenger loud enough that I can hear but not tell what is being said. She suddenly decides she needs to turn right halfway through the intersection, still talking, looks to her left at me and the cars that are waiting. It’s humorous to watch so I smile. She laughs a little and smiles back. Little human interactions like that happen all the time, and they’re priceless. Happy moments #5,6,7,8…

It’s good to be back.