Bicycle ride (This was written at first of the year)

It has been 20 years since I have ridden any bike.  It was a mountain bike that I truely loved.  I miss that bike, I won it by guessing a trivia question on a local radio station.  It lasted for several years and slowly due to my schedule disappeared into disuse. 

I learned to ride a bicycle at my grandfather's house on an old bike that was much to big and made in the forties or fifties.  My Grandfather placed me on the bike and pointed me towards the street.  Unfortunately the street was Capitol Street, a main street in my area.  I learned to ride quickly that day and also learned to stop almost as quickly.  Also, I learned the effects of a male bicycle when you attempt to stop and land stradling the middle bar that signifies that it is a male bike.  This device has nearly crippled me on more than one occassion.  That day was the first.


The bike I remember the most was a gift from Santa.  It was a purple Schwinn Spyder, with a glitter Banana seat.  This would be the one with the card in the spokes to make it sound like a small engine. Plus the chopper handlebars. Several of my neighbors also got the same bike, we were so cool.  So many adventures on that bike that would take me from my main story.  Maybe for future writings.  Still this wonderful bike would be my magic carpet for those trips.  

Okay enough plot exposition, moving back up these twenty years to this past weekend.  I have two friends that are my walking and travel buddies, we meet almost every weekend to walk or go on a short road trip.  Saturday we were going south to Hattiesburg to find the new walking trails we had heard so much about.  After arriving in Hattiesburg and finding the trail, we discovered that an organization rented bikes to ride the straightway path.  I saw a bike like the first one I had ridden, no gears, not frills, Just candy apple red touring bike.  I was ready to ride.  After paying the fee.  I took it out side.  My friends were on their bikes with gears and already on the way.  I stopped to look at the bike before getting on it.   It was a little taller than I would have liked, the middle bar was there and looked as dangerous as ever.  There is an old saying that you never  forget how to ride a bike...I am not sure that statement is totally true.  Gravity, age and weight have confused my body into thinking that it is a different shape, when I run, I feel like an alien has taken over my body.  This is not the body of my youth.  I jumped onto the bike and let the forward momentum carry me forward.  I was on the bike, but not yet riding, I had to convince my body that gravity could let go of me long enough to let me jump up to the pedals.  Finally, after three attempts, I was pedalling and wabbling down the path.  The bicycle was awesome.  I felt a giddyness that was akin to a Christmas night.  I was flying again.  I was a kid in my domain, all was well.  After a few minutes of riding I began to have vague memories of leg cramps and sore muscles .  My body was tightening up and I was starting to feel the pressure. We passed the five mile sign, I was getting tired.  We then reached a slight decline in the pavement and I was able to coast a while.  My buddies and I finally decided that we had gone far enough and decided to head back to our starting point.  Imagine our surprise to realize that we had gone out 7.5 miles, this meant another 7.5 miles to get back to our car.  A total of 15 miles.  This was incredible.  I have not exercised in quite a while and was amazed that I made it this far.

The day after.

Little did I know that my story a few days ago would become a fact. 

Yesterday was the 3.2 mile or more socially called a 5k run.  I arrived a little later than I meant to and didn't get to stretch the way I wanted to.  The crowd of hundreds was already lined up and I tried to stretch a little.  The stadium horn was blown and we were off.  I started at a good pace, but I was at the back of the crowd.  I was also there to support Mom so I stayed by her.  This would be a good place to blame Mom for my later placement, but I think it has nothing to do with her, so the truth be told I was not very fast.  The van that followed the race was 20 feet behind me and kept going dead because it was moving so slow.  The route was in a mainly residential area with lots of hills, in the opposite direction I was going.  As I passed the one mile water station the first  group of runners came by.  I was shamed by these runners, most of them younger, yes, but there were some older and some who looked in worse shape than me.  The worst shame is to watch a friend of mine who gave birth to twins a few months before pushing those twins in a stroller and staying ahead of the main groups.  Her time was 33 minutes with twins. I pushed to speed up.  When we arrived at the half way point Mom had enough.  I understand, this was tough and the heat had already gone to the 90's hotter with humidity. Mom is not a quitter but I could tell it was time for her to stop.  Pulled out my phone and called my sister who was nearby to pick her up.  I left Mom in a shaded area and headed up another hill by a college.  Normally I noticed the beauty of this particular college, but at this point I was noticing the walkway was uneven thanks to roots and Yazoo clay.  As I topped the hill my sister yelled out her car window checking on me.  "I'm fine." I lied.  I was ready to give up there.  It was about this time I realized how far behind I was from anyone else and I had some flashbacks to sporting events as a child.  None of the flashbacks were good or worth repeating.  I waved her on her way.  I wanted to finish the race but did not want the public humiliation of being last.  As she drove off, I realized I had a long way to go.

I picked up my pace and saw the next water stand deserted, the people manning it had already gone.  I was not waterless, I had been smart enough to carry a camelbak water pack.  I drank a little as I passed the stand.  As I was climbing the top of the hill, a van passed in the opposite direction and slammed on their breaks.  "Are you in the race?" the people inside asked. " I held up my number 502 on my shirt to them.  My legs were like lead and I was covered in sweat.  The heat index was rising and I really was more concerned with the humiliation of being last.  I was enjoying the scenery of the route, but I was hurting.  To add insult to injury, the true runners were running the route again and lapping me.  I heard them giggle as they went by.  Finally I was about three blocks away and looked up as another leaner runner started heading my way.  I realized as he got closer that it was a former theatre student who was an avid runner.  He had heard that I was at the race and wanted to see me, so he found out I was still on the route and ran to come say hi.  He kept me company as I came into sight of the finish line, we talked old times and he lightened the load.  Another friend showed up and did the same thing, she was an encourager who had been working with me during the summer to lose some weight.  I now had an entourage.  I puffed up just a little as I came into sight of the finish line. I was going to turn the corner and go home if the cameras were aimed at me.  I didn't want to be known as the last one, even if I was.  However, no one was paying attention, most of them were with families and friends talking and laughing about their battle wounds.  I crossed the line and their was no one there to take my card to give me time, I had to track down someone to register it and say I had completed it.  What I thought was going to be a shout of laughter at my being last was a whisper of no one caring or noticing.  My time...laugh, if you will, but it was a well earned time.  106.53.  Sounds like a rock station. I will have that time forever embedded in my brain, along with the pain and sweat I endured that day.

Later people kept telling me, you will get better, why next years race if you keep up exercise this pain will be nothing...The thing is, I still don't see any sense in running without being chased.  I will keep up the exercise, but I have no desire to participate in one of these events again.  To each his own.  My passion is elsewhere.  To all of you who encouraged me...Thank you.  I stand tall today, sore, but tall.

~curtain~

Comic Originality a bygone event

They are killing Spiderman or have killed Spiderman in the Marvel Universe.  That is the Ultimate Universe.  I guess that is suppose to be a alternative Universe. Now they are bringing in another kid to take his place.  The big hype is he is multi-racial.  My big hype is he isnt Peter Parker.  Marvel is patting itself on the back for their diversity and originality.  Diversity can be achieved without shaking up the story. Originality, please, create a new character that works.  There are millions of ideas for this.  Quit stealling other characters.  This may be why I quit regularly collecting comics.  This was a big part of my early life and helped me get the house I now live in, so yes, I know comics.  Marvel and DC Seem to think that they need to rewrite everything to make it good.  No. We readers want stories that we can relate and escape in, one that stretches our imagination not tries to raise our social consciousness.  Who are they to say we should believe as they do. 

Another example is the Rawhide Kid, a great comic for years with great stories, all of a sudden they change his sexual prefrence and make him gay.  Really, why not create an original character and make him gay instead of changing something that is working.  (Sidenote: I am not against Gays, read what I am saying.  Dont fix, what isnt broken.)  Archie Comics got it right.  They didnt make Jughead gay, though he had some stereotypical gay habits of hating girls for a while.  No, they created a new character that seems to be doing well.

DC is rebooting their whole universe.  I laugh at this.  Seriously, you couldnt get readers by writing good stories so you went with a gimic.  Rewriting Superman where he has to wear body armor? So much for more powerful than a locomotive.  I understand getting rid of the red shorts (Costume change in new Man of Steel Movie) but really would you make fun of a man who could deep fry with a glance?  I dont think so.  It is getting late for me so I am stopping here, though I may ad an addendum later.  My main point is originality.  Why change what is working.  Find out what happened in the creator's mind to start the comic.  Find your own.  The new character's are there waiting for a genius to bring them to the readers.

~curtain~

bLOg foR @pUMPKinShiRT

Pumkinshirt was surprised at the length of my blogs.  This one is dedicated to him.

Teach thee history,
You man of wit and wisdom,
Oh Brave Pumpkinshirt.

Haiku for the history teacher.