stories on the eve of a new year

every morning on my way to class I pass a cyclist on the road.
he wears a backpack, has a bright headlight and a flashing rear light, and is out there at 4:55 a.m.
snow, ice, cold, fair weather:  he's there.
after we pass I watch him, in my rear view mirror, turn up a road that leads to the university of utah medical school, so I've made up a story that he's a dedicated student, a starving student, a student too poor to handle the expenses of a car.
I may be completely wrong:  he could just be a conservationist, all about keeping a small carbon footprint.
or maybe he's recovering from a devastating illness and believes the cycling is an important part of his healing process.
or maybe he just loves fresh air, knowing he'll be trapped in a building for the next ten hours.

probably, his story is nowhere near anything I've just written.

people have stories.  and behind them are the motivations, desires, dreams, compulsions, inspirations, incentives, all the forces that determine behavior.
the fifteen of us sitting on spin bikes this morning at 5:15 all walked in for different reasons and approached our efforts in different ways.
I might say I ride hard so I can eat more, but it's also about self-esteem, self-belief, a physical connection with my body, self-empowerment, adrenaline.  and likely, other motivations I myself might not even recognize.  I can only guess at the motivations behind the actions of the others in that room.

I love people's stories.  there's a local man who rides a bike on many of the same roads I do ~ I've seen him numerous times over the past 18 months or so.  the first time, he was coming down Big Mountain, quickly, as I was laboriously pedaling up, slowly.  I gave a finger wave and he returned it, and as soon as he was past me the picture in my brain told me he only had one leg.
yeah, right.
it's difficult to see someone who's passing you at 38 mph, and easy to assume you saw something you didn't.
the next time I saw him I realized the picture in my brain was accurate:  he has but one leg.
I've seen him a few dozen times now, and each time I am both awed and empowered.  this man is large-as-life proof that we have within us what's needed to overcome anything.  anything.
I don't know him at all, but he is a man with a story.
I want to know his story; I want to write his story.
not the details, not the surface of it, but the guts, the innerworkings.  the things that made him get on a bike and teach himself to pedal with only half of the team most of us have working for us.  to learn to stop and dismount, to get back on and go.
to push up steep hills, to risk fast descents.
something within this man has helped him be stronger and tougher than most anyone I know.

I don't know his motivations, and I'm not going to make them up, other than to acknowledge that something deeply powerful helped this man learn to ride when he had the option to not.

everyone has a story.
and the best stories aren't those that conclude in haste or with nothing but smiles all around.  the best stories have some grit, some pain, a bit of loss, a bunch of growth.
as we move into a new year, I wish for us all a deepening of our own stories, an appreciation of the stories that belong to others, and a continued curiosity of what's around the next bend.

what has been

this morning leslie, our spin instructor, said to us, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not sorry to see this year end . . . I'm ready to say goodbye to 2010.

and I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't feel the same way.

no matter what a year brings my way, it brings crucial experiences---both joyful and otherwise---that work to shape me.

how could I wish that away?



2010 brought many things my way: big dramatic events, subtle shifts, and everything in between. fantastic new highs, new lows, emerging skills, remembrances.

new peaks conquered, a sinking into self, acknowledgements of strengths and desires. redemption. acceptance. forgiveness. grief. loss. letting go. limits raised, boundaries stretched.

validation handed to me, skills honed, connections formed and bonds tightened.

how could I be grateful that this has ended?



the past twelve months are part of who I now am, and I would be a less interesting, fulfilled, complex person without them.

I've had easier years, I've had smoother years, I've had years filled with greater prosperity.
but I cannot say that I've had better years.

I don't know what 2011 will bring my way. but I'm certain that it will be filled with activities I love, people I care deeply for, solitude, togetherness, snow, rain, sleet, cycling, running, yoga, tests and challenges, self analysis, growth, and much more that I have yet to contemplate.

may we all be presented in the coming months with just enough challenge to keep us alert, enough love to wrap us in its warm embrace, a little intrigue to keep us guessing, enough prosperity to meet our needs, and plenty swooping to fill our hearts with joy.

binary code

today just seems like binary code to me; everything reduced to its simplest version.
today is a microcosm of the year to come:
a workout with my butt in the saddle. chores. work-related activity. caring for my dog. dishes. laundry. interactions with fellow human beings. a shower. hair care, make-up, shaving my legs. moments of pleasure. moments of relaxation. observations of fellow human beings. entertainment. expenditures. conversations about the mundane, and about the significant. time spent reading. eating. overindulging in chocolates. shivers and sighs and cuddling up with pillows and blankets. thinking, contemplating, manifesting. being grateful.

010110

happy new year, complete with wishes and hopes that each of us find plentiful time for those things that bring us pure joy.

and most importantly, a wish that you may always remember the root and core of your own personal binary code.