Things I saw in the dark

A woman in multi-colored bike shorts passed me on the first climb. She had a road bike, and the skinny tires were being powered by her mile-long legs. She must have been 6-2" or 3". She waited until the path got wide enough, slipped by, and vanished up the climb without a sound. I envy her speed, but love my fat-tire versatility.

The old, black men were fishing in the park. The sun was just going down, they were just getting settled in. Their voices were so low you couldn't tell what they were saying, but then, someone would laugh, risking scaring the fish away. I'm not sure the fish had too much to fear; I think those fellas were their to catch a little quiet time together.

Muslim women were jogging with their scarfs on, covered head to toe in long sleeve shirts, long sweat pants. I've seen them before. They look away or down when I pass, and after a while, I've gotten to where I look down to. I don't "get it," but it's their thing, and I respect that. I won't look if they don't want me to.

Some other young women looked like they were trying hard to get you to look. Shorts so low that they looked ready to drop. They looked mighty fluffy, jogging in their little outfits, but I noticed one young woman ahead of her friend, looking back to make sure she was there, but not letting up on the pace, and her friend, struggling to keep up. I've been on both ends of that one. I smiled. I love competition.

The sun was below the horizon, and the ducks were gathering for the night. Each little duck family was pulled close together - an adult or two, surrounded by half a dozen young ducks. The young ones aren't babies anymore. Soon, it will be time for them to learn to migrate. The families were scattered around the ponds, dots of extra dark gray on the dark gray canvas of the water.

I rode out to the damn. I saw a middle aged couple, walking the path ahead of me. They weren't hurrying anywhere. Their faces looked relieved just to be together at the end of another day. Older, more tired, but relieved.

Out at the damn, I looked up at the looming hulk of the new bridge. Two bicyclists were crossing on what must be a new bike path on the new bridge. One was a heavy set woman in a bright red jacket. The other looked like a woman too, but her clothes were too dark to make her out at that distance. I waited for a minute, hoping they would swing down and into the park from the bridge so I could ask them about the path, but they kept riding, off around the bend, until the trees hid them.

When I passed the pond, it smelled like dead things. The air was warm along there, and the bugs were thicker. I peddled faster, not wanting to be near the smell of dead things in the dark.

The car lights made surreal pictures on the new concrete retaining walls of the new path as I headed home. I had to tip my face down to keep from losing my night vision when the cars passed. The new path rides well, but it lacks character. I miss my rotting timbers and pot-holed ashphalt.

Just before getting to my turn into the neighborhood, I passed an older man. His short gray hair looked wet and shiny on his helmetless head. He was peddling in the other direction, pushing too big of a gear. He was looking down, lost, thinking about something too hard, or maybe too many things all at once. He looked like if you told him he could just stay on the bike, never have to get up in the morning, never have to go back to work, he'd take that deal. I tried to smile as we passed, but his blank look and belated half nod said pretty clearly, "Son, I haven't seen another human being in a while, I didn't even know there were any left, let alone any younger ones." He smelled nice. Freshly showered, smelling of soaps, shampoos, deodorants. We were near the gym, I wondered if he was just coming from there.

And I wondered, is that my future? Riding a path, late at night, alone, smelling fresh and ready for life, but not really expecting to meet a fellow human being?

Exercising Demons...

It's been a long week, and it's only Tuesday. (sigh)

Work is killing me. We're moving people from one end of town to the other, making changes to the networking, and dealing with a million personality issues. There are rumors of changes swirling, and so far, my boss has neither confirmed nor denied them. In the midst of all this, my buddy who I've worked with for 10 years now had to have by-pass surgery, so he's out for the next couple of months. I don't mind the extra work, I'm just a little freaked out by the idea of this very kind person laid out on the operating table.

So I forced myself to take some time for myself. I took a bike ride, last night, alone, as it was getting dark. The local idiots that pass for a city government finally put in a bike path in a place that was crying out for one (of course, they're ruining an existing path in the process by lowering and smoothing out the climbs in it). I can now ride from my end of town all the way to the north end, on paved paths, which means I can ride after dark without being in the street. The whole way north is climbing, and the whole way back is decending, except for one small part in the middle. 35-40 mph on a bike, in the dark, tends to make you focus on the here and now and forget the problems from the day.

Some observations to follow...

Happy happy happy!

Just as things were starting to get me so far down that I couldn't even laugh about it anymore, a rescuer has appeared, charging over the horizon, helping drive back the evil's of Bushism, if only for the length of one colum.

Maureen Dowd has returned to the editorial pages of the NY Times after being gone all summer on "book leave."

Ok, I know this is lame...

...but I thought it was great fun.

I just got to live out a great fantasy: I walked around in public, carrying a laptop, coffee, and a roll of floorplans, and it was, really, for a project I am working on.

I know. Sad, isn't it? No one should be excited about doing a networking project. It should not be the highlight of the week. But it was.

And the people from our Com division I was meeting to talk about the project? They talked hockey.

Yes indeed. Hockey. Laptop. Floorplans. Networking. Coffee.

Tired and sore, how are you?

Played a couple of tough games in the last week, then ended up helping my mother-in-law move. Made for a long week/weekend, start to this week. Sitting in training for two whole days just added some serious stiffness to the old legs.

First, my summer team faced a bunch of young punks that, for some unknown reason, are playing in our old-guy league. Write up is on the hockey blog. Then I spent Saturday and Sunday helping with the move. Who knew that one lady, living in one little apartment, could have so much stuff? And why couldn't she live on the first floor? I did discover something that I could write on if I go back for an advanced degree: apparently people had much smaller feet, even as recently as 40-50 years ago in the US. Evidence? The steps leading to her second floor appartment have treads that are about 5-6 inches deep (but normal risers - oh joy!). Try carrying a marble top from a coffee table down something like that, when you can't see your feet, and you'll know why I'm bitching.

My reward was that I got to take my sore back to the rink and play against the best team from last season, who have reconstituted themselves for this season by adding some players. That write up is on the hockey blog too. I really could have done without the genius that was filling in for us getting himself ejected. Made a long night even longer.

Tonight, we continue with moving things. I'm having to ask favors of all sorts of people to get it done. Hopefully it will work itself out in the end. My mother-in-law's newly renovated condo is looking good, so that's hopeful. She has a cool new bar, complete with marble top and kick-ass stained glass chandelier, that I plan to spend some time sitting at in the next few months. I think she owes me that much.

So, sometime later today, when the aches, pains, and backed up email is taken care of, I'll go back to my usual ranting and raving. Politicians are still idiots, people are still ruining the good name of Christianity, and, as soon as the weather cools a little, there will be spaghetti sauce to be made...