Wheelchair-athon
Lately legal pads have been outdoing computer keys by far.
Legal pads are good for half thought ideas, or maybe fully thought thoughts which are floating in the myth of later completion., and greater conection. I've got lots of pieces and parts but it seems that the pile of legal pads is doubling up and I still have not properly sorted through the earlier ones. Now is this the case with creativity or am I in denial or avoidance or is reality simply my sarcophagus......
Anyway, the legal pads are doing good and I'm anxious that I don't connect things together into longer things and stronger things.
Physical activity, endurance: I did 22 or so miles on Sunday last. I'd been wanting to for two weeks before that, a fortnight it would be if I were doing my wanting from within the UK.
So it was good. I put my cash up for cancer research and got my number, my two numbers actually- two twin numbers, each number identical to the other. It reminded me of waiting backstage to dance. I sat amongst the ghordes of bicyclists and stretched my arms while they stretched their legs. I drank my water and didn't look too urgently into the eyes of the others. Then son enough, after another couple pages of Life of Pi, it was over to the start line as time inched closer to the 10 AM start.
The compliments and flattery started early and flowed freely all day. I was the oddball, twice as many wheels, four or five times as much seating area and no gears whatsoever. Anyway, folks were jazzed to pass me by. People were calling me hero and inspirational and thanking me for existing. I did my best to say thank you and remind people that they also were doing good. Secretly I enjoyed the heck out of the attention. The last mile in toward the finish line I got a lot of beeping from cyclists in thier cars, heading on home. All these people had pased me on thrir way in. I started getting a kick out of the special treatment (the bicyclists were not getting beeps). The last two hundred yards, maybe four hundred yards, were fairly thunderous, loads of applause, the level picking up as I approached. Now I was grinning, not even bothering to feel embarassed or such, just basking in the fun of it all.
Then finally beyond the finish line, I caught up with family. They'd all passed me on the way in. I actually surprised them by being there at al. I hadn't revealed my plans and started two hours later than them from 35 miles closer. Everybody was pleased to see me except maybe Becca who puzzlingly said, "Unca Sean what are you doin' ?" My brother Bill was kind enough to double back and do the gauntlet of well-wishing alongside me. It was fun having my brother beside me
As I settled down I took off my pack and pulled out a towel. I wet the towel some and wiped my face and arms. Of course I removed my shirt and further wiped down. Then I noticed I was not so humble after all. I can kid myself if I want, but I was well aware of the group of female cyclists sitting not far away.
All in all, partly I'm a show off, partly I'm an exhibitionist, but partly also I am humble and I do enjoy the physical exertion and the mental discipline of continuing when it gets uncomfortable, and even partly I am a bit of a hero. Little me in my wheelchair, I had the oppurtunity to stop and loan out my pump and help a bicyclist fix a flat. Lowly me, I had the oppurtunity to help a walking bicyclist fuel up with my gatoraid and remount his steed. He was between chemo treatments, he was my hero.
Legal pads are good for half thought ideas, or maybe fully thought thoughts which are floating in the myth of later completion., and greater conection. I've got lots of pieces and parts but it seems that the pile of legal pads is doubling up and I still have not properly sorted through the earlier ones. Now is this the case with creativity or am I in denial or avoidance or is reality simply my sarcophagus......
Anyway, the legal pads are doing good and I'm anxious that I don't connect things together into longer things and stronger things.
Physical activity, endurance: I did 22 or so miles on Sunday last. I'd been wanting to for two weeks before that, a fortnight it would be if I were doing my wanting from within the UK.
So it was good. I put my cash up for cancer research and got my number, my two numbers actually- two twin numbers, each number identical to the other. It reminded me of waiting backstage to dance. I sat amongst the ghordes of bicyclists and stretched my arms while they stretched their legs. I drank my water and didn't look too urgently into the eyes of the others. Then son enough, after another couple pages of Life of Pi, it was over to the start line as time inched closer to the 10 AM start.
The compliments and flattery started early and flowed freely all day. I was the oddball, twice as many wheels, four or five times as much seating area and no gears whatsoever. Anyway, folks were jazzed to pass me by. People were calling me hero and inspirational and thanking me for existing. I did my best to say thank you and remind people that they also were doing good. Secretly I enjoyed the heck out of the attention. The last mile in toward the finish line I got a lot of beeping from cyclists in thier cars, heading on home. All these people had pased me on thrir way in. I started getting a kick out of the special treatment (the bicyclists were not getting beeps). The last two hundred yards, maybe four hundred yards, were fairly thunderous, loads of applause, the level picking up as I approached. Now I was grinning, not even bothering to feel embarassed or such, just basking in the fun of it all.
Then finally beyond the finish line, I caught up with family. They'd all passed me on the way in. I actually surprised them by being there at al. I hadn't revealed my plans and started two hours later than them from 35 miles closer. Everybody was pleased to see me except maybe Becca who puzzlingly said, "Unca Sean what are you doin' ?" My brother Bill was kind enough to double back and do the gauntlet of well-wishing alongside me. It was fun having my brother beside me
As I settled down I took off my pack and pulled out a towel. I wet the towel some and wiped my face and arms. Of course I removed my shirt and further wiped down. Then I noticed I was not so humble after all. I can kid myself if I want, but I was well aware of the group of female cyclists sitting not far away.
All in all, partly I'm a show off, partly I'm an exhibitionist, but partly also I am humble and I do enjoy the physical exertion and the mental discipline of continuing when it gets uncomfortable, and even partly I am a bit of a hero. Little me in my wheelchair, I had the oppurtunity to stop and loan out my pump and help a bicyclist fix a flat. Lowly me, I had the oppurtunity to help a walking bicyclist fuel up with my gatoraid and remount his steed. He was between chemo treatments, he was my hero.
posted by Sean at 7:13 PM
1 Comments:
Everyone's got a hero.
Shows's a sense of self, if I ever heard it.
perfect.
a
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