aknowledging life, and things

totally not bike related.
Or maybe so, since it's what I'm about.
Things happen for a reason, I assume.
And they happen at a given time.
Changing that time, will have an effect on the results.
Often I retrace my path through life.
(that phrase right there allows you to punch me)

Anyways, simply put it's like the Talking Heads...
"how did I get here?"

Springs have been pretty heavy emotionally lately.
Three years ago:
The approaching birth of our third child.
The approaching third birthday of our daughter.
The possiblity that I may have cancer,
enough so that after ten years I finally stop smoking.
And I get back on the bike after five years.
That spring I did ok. No cancer. No bad habit except the
bike kind. And the kids are healthy and happy.

Two years ago:
Being adopted at birth, I was never able to give the Doctors
any useful information regarding our kids. So I search online.
Strange how much online has evolved from 2000 to 2006.
You could write a book about the effects of adoption.
Even now, I still don't know where I truely stand on the issue.
I always wondered. And never knew.
Couldn't even tell you, why I look like I do,
or do the things I do, or like
So I believed in nurture not nature.
It's not genetics, it's HOW you're raised.
This was the start of finding out how wrong I was.

I have two moms.
Two separate families.
In some ways it seems, two different lives.
And two dads.
This is the spring I find my birthmom.
And my sister. And now I'm an Uncle.
And my brother.
And that right there is enough for a movie script.

This is also the spring that I loose my dad to diabetes.
I feel lucky that I was able to get to Denver to see him,
and his brother just weeks before.
We watched the SuperBowl. The only time I've ever watched it.
We geeked out watching the Discovery channel.
And learned alot about each other that weekend.
Something a father and son should've done years ago.

On Valentine's Day there was a blizzard.
I got out of work early and hungout with the kids.
I didn't call my dad, I don't like talking on the phone.
Two days later I got the call,
he had passed a couple days ago, they just found him.
That hurt.

That summer I met my birthmom.
Alot of things started fitting into place.
That fall I would travel to Seattle.
To meet my brother and sister.
To discover who I was.
Where I came from.

That summer was also life changing in other ways.
My friend Marty was hit.
Not just hit.
But INTENTIONALLY RUN OVER, and left for dead.
Marty was a guy who remained a friend after I left,
where we both worked.
But I also checked out after loosing a friend that fell
while hiking.
Marty would stop by after work to ride with his dog.
That act against Marty shook me to the core.
That act would then be followed by Diva.
Diva owned my wife's favorite boutique.
She always had a smile, and her little dog.

Everyday I would drive past her Ghost Bike.
Everyday I would check for posts on Marty's progress.
I sent him my copies of Breaking Away & American Flyers.
Anything I could do for him.
I hated the car priority culture.
The denoting of second class to cyclists.
I hated the thought that if someone hit my kid,
they wouldn't even be charged with anything.
People don't even loose their licenses.

Then Joel.
I didn't know Joel.
But I ride with people who did.
And I've ridden that stretch of road plenty of times.
The last straw was a spineless DA who gave the driver 6 months.
It was an insult. Because someone is a cyclist,
somehow their life is automatically worth less.

That winter I went to my first bicycle coalition meeting.
I wanted to help.
I wanted to change things.
They NEEDED to change.

I helped with Bike Month.
I saw the other advocates.
Met the commuters who rode year round.
I found my place.
And I knew who I was.
That summer I sold my car.


And every day I ride past Diva's bike.