I Wanna Eat

I wanna eat
turkey and stuffing
and mashed potatoes
and gravy
I wanna mound it on my plate
and moosh it all together
creating a wavy swirl

Then I wanna take a tractor load
of it and stuff it
in my mouth
making chipmunk cheeks
that are such a concoction
that even my mother
won't recognize it as her own cooking
In the spare space
I'll add the crowning touch
a splash of red ~
the cranberry sauce

I wanna get down and dirty
with a leg
and lick my fingers
I wanna pull the skin off
and dangle it over my mouth
and then drop it in
and gulp it
gnashing my teeth and
smearing my lips with its oiliness

I want pumpkin pie
with dollops of whipped topping
that I will mash down
with my fork
spooning and spreading
meticulously covering
every
delicious
nutmeggy
inch of it

Then shovel-style,
I will fork it into my mouth
chewing with open
gulping, gasping,
swishing, swirling
noises

And I wanna do this at night
at 10 PM after everyone has gone to bed
down in my mom's kitchen
so I don't have to do any of it delicately

Biking makes me really hungry.

1:22.32, 23 miles, 16.4 Avg. MPH

Staring Problem

He's staring at me. Out of these vivid blue eyes encircled by wire-rimmed glasses. His arms are covered in light blond hair and there's a faded bluish tattoo on one forearm. He is short and muscular. And he is staring at me. He only sort of looks away when I catch him at it.

Unnerved, I shift slightly and continue the Ironman anecdote I am telling my friend out loud, all the while maintaining an internal dialogue. What is his deal? Am I looking that fine tonight in my cords and plain gray T-shirt? Hot on the heals of that comes: Is he wearing a ring?

Does he think he knows me? Is he a cross country parent? Is he going to come over here or just continue to stare?

We move over to supervise the theater entrance closest to the bathrooms. Minutes later I look up and my eyes collide with the vivid blue ones. He is milling outside the women's bathroom. Is it coincidence? Is he legit? Is his female inside?

I lose track of him in the busy-ness of the play.

Until now. Three days later I wake up remembering another set of blue eyes, wire-rimmed glasses, and hairy blond arms. I looked into those eyes and told them that they really needed lumbar support on these stretchers. They, for their part, assessed my vitals and told me I was going to be OK, would probably be home by lunchtime. The hairy blond hands cut off my bike clothes. He told me his name and that of his son, a student at my middle school. I knew the name but not the kid. I've subsequently forgotten the name, but I think I've solved my staring problem.

He was the EMT in the ambulance.

76

The number of minutes I anticipate it will take me to get home tonight.
76
The number of times I woke up last night.
38 times scared.
38 times excited. Anticipating.

I have a knot in my stomach.
It's called biking.
It's called commuting home.
I'll be on that road again.
Or not.
I have the bike map and might take a longer route home.
Or I might just get back on that horse and face my demons.
Ooh, that felt like gargling with ipecac.

Make me strong.
Make me brave.
Make me just do it
and revel in it
and come to that easy pass
with biking
where I don't even think about it
except to get the good shivers of anticipation.
Make me visualize today's Denver temps of 70s
and sun
riding toward those iridescent blue mountains
now topped with white...

76 minutes most-anticipated,
here I come.

Post script: It took me 80. And I wondered. Is this OK pain or the kind of after-a-serious-injury-needs-to-rest pain? But then... I neared home and the peace happened. The kind of peace that comes only from biking. Ahh...

Stats: 1:20.45, 21.47 miles, 15.9 Av

Stupid

Stupid. They don't use words, but they say, "you're stupid." They snicker every time he answers a question. They roll their eyes, sigh, get impatient. He believes them. I almost begin to believe them. He is new to me. I wonder what he has done to earn this reputation, this reaction. I ache for him. Today he made a beautiful inference while we were reading in small group. They didn't hear it. I heard it. I told him I heard it.

Hear me: Stupid you are not, kid!

Birthday Gifts I Gave to Myself

Wednesday: Doctor's appointment. I think - hope - this will be my last one associated with the accident. The neurosurgeon gave me clearance to bend, lift, and twist to my heart's content. She did caution me against running or other high impact activities until January though.

Thursday: FLIP TURNS!!! I made all four 50s on 50 seconds. I am a swimmer again!

Friday: A new bike helmet - red, because that's the color my new tri bike is going to be. The trip to the bike shop also included me doing research on my next build. These guys tell me they can get the job done. I want it exactly like my old build, my beloved Serra, but have to change the color. And the name... Ideas?

Saturday: A day spent with some of my favorite people in the world doing an event that is yet to be revealed to me. I love surprises!

Sunday: The crowning glory on the day of my birthday -- my first ride. I have my ol' road bike all ready to go, just finished pumping up the tires, in fact. On Sunday, when Denver is slated for 65 degrees and sun, you will find me on the bike path...

Skip the candles; I already have all I could wish for.

What You Don't Know About Me

What you don't know about me
is that
I can
You see the ache
the twisted knee
the bruised hip
the unbendable back

But I know better

In the pool
I am invincible
I am nearly myself again
I am myself minus flip turns,
the drive
the determination
the litheness
the piss & vinegar
are mine

I swim hard
I inhale,
sucking air
and unavoidably
am rewarded with a healthy swish of
stale chlorinated water
My epiglottis does its job
closing off my my trachea
In these timed 50s
I can't expend milliseconds expelling water
or swallow it
I must let it swill
I have a job to do
I have to keep moving

I fight hard and make the
4 x 50 on 60 seconds

These 50s that took me
75 seconds 2 weeks ago when
I first wet myself in the pool again
I am happy
but
the bar is being raised
I anticipate and dread
but make
the 4 x 50 on 55 seconds
and fight, fight, fight
for the 4 x 50 on 50 seconds

I make #1 with 2 seconds rest
I have 1 second to spare on #2
for #3 I am a second late
but I shove off anyway
knowing that
I can
I will
next time
or the time after that
because

In the pool
I am transformed
In the pool
I know
I feel
I anticipate
the big things
I am yet capable of...