22 September 2010 -- Like yesterday and all the days before that I am still here in my own skin asking if I have changed. My mystical connections are as remote from their original roots as they were before the Tour. I slipped right back into my life here in Tempe. For me it’s a good life in a well-run city. The damn 5-month summers here didn’t change either (one consolation is the dry underarms). Yet I think I have changed in two ways. The first change started way back when I mentioned the Tour to some friends and associates at the Lab. Their questions basically pushed me (in a put up or shut up kind of way) to start down the path to the Tour. I picked up that dilapidated Schwinn stationary bike, bought the real Trek 1.2 bike, set a date, and then actually started exercising. This process involved keeping at it, listening to what my body was telling my mind WRT what it wanted to do exercise-wise. Over the ensuing 13 months I lost 25 or so pounds, began feeling marginal better and more fit (the Tour was never about the bike or exercise for me), and now find I have a place in my life for making the 10.1 mile circuit around Tempe – mostly every day. That’s a change. The second change is in my mind’s eye. As readers know, I had a certain vision of the Tour before I had ever seen (from a bicycling perspective) the roads of the Midwest. In my mind’s eye there was a certain sense of how things would go with Dad as companion, and how each day – after the riding – would go. I imagined so much more interaction with folks than actually occurred. The reality of the Tour impressed on me a permanent change in how much I trust my mind’s eye as a veridical model of the world to come. Reality rubs down all the sharp edges on a crisp mind’s eye view of it. I can accept that without too much sadness, regret, or sense of loss because I also changed my view of my own resilience and persistence – these now being stronger than before, but not to say that I claim great levels of either. I am just a guy getting along in the world, I seem to be like a lot of other guys, and I don’t need help I haven’t requested (on this point I note that Dad got a little testy with me because I was engaging in behaviors intended to help him walk less – and he didn’t want any help, saying “I have to walk as much as I can as long as I can.” It occurs to me, at this particular stage in our national story, a lot more of us could do with more of this viewpoint).
“Is that the sum total of the changes that occurred?” I hear you ask. Well, no. My forearms, calves, and thighs are fitter than they have been in a long time. My internet activities in social networking and video documentation now exist and are more extensive (I’m writing this blog, aren’t I). My appreciation for the vast agricultural regions of the Midwest is much improved. My sense of appreciation for quirky aspects of life (like the little Dorena-Hickman ferry) is enhanced. The longer I sit here the more such changes I could enumerate, but the longer I sit here the less I am out there. One has to strike a balance and I am satisfied that this entry captures the essence of what I have to say. Tomorrow I will speculate on what’s next.
Thought for the day: Accept change as the clay added to a model created by a sculptor – each change accepted in pursuit of the essence of the end goal.
To JKSFAM: You go dude(tte).
No comments:
Post a Comment