Like A Fish Needs A Bicycle

We've all heard the expression, "when pigs fly."

What's less likely than an airborne porker?

Now to a really important question:  Should that pig wear lipstick?

What Will He See On This Ride?

In my university, there was a writing instructor who, on the first day of class, told students to imagine they had one hour left to live.  What would matter at that time?  What secrets would you reveal?  What would you want to do?

The instructor didn't specify how you were to "die":  actually, he didn't care about that.  What he really wanted was for students to think about what really mattered to them, and to strip away what he called "emotional blackmail."

I got that assignment.  As you might expect, I wrote some silly and pretentious stuff.  But I also wrote about a couple of things I hadn't told anybody up to that time of my life.  I recall that one thing for which I was thankful was that my senses were still intact.  Even then, I feared going blind or deaf, or losing a part of my body, more than death itself, as I do now.

Hmm...If he really wanted to rock my boat, perhaps he should have told me to imagine I would go blind in an hour.  What would I want to see?

Jason Folie is doing that assignment, if you will.  The 35-year-old Minnesota roofer and remodeler was diagnosed with chroideremia, a rare degenerative retinal disease.  Its sufferers, mainly men, lose their sight over a period of time.  For the moment, Mr. Folie deals with night-blindness and a loss of peripheral vision, though his central vision is still clear.

Jason Folie, taken by Krista Kramer

When he was first diagnosed he, understandably, got depressed.  "I didn't see the point of settling down because I didn't want someone to take care of me," he wrote on his fundraising page.  "I didn't see the point of having a family if I couldn't see what my kids look like."  But, he explains, he found hope after participating in a research trial.  "I think there is something I can do to help," he says.

One of the things he's doing involves a bike ride.  A long one:  2900 miles (4700 kilometers), to be exact.  On his birthday--Monday, 7 January--he plans to embark from San Diego, California and pedal the Southern Tier Trail (developed by Adventure Cycling Association to Saint Augustine, Florida.  He expects to arrive some time in mid-March.  His fiancee, Krista Kramer, will follow him in a camper and stop in towns along the way to meet with the media and raise awareness for the cause.

After the ride, they will hold a fundraising dinner in Waseca, their hometown.  Guests will wear blindfolds as they eat.

Folie hopes that his and Kramer's efforts will raise $100,000.  He's donated $35,000 of his own money, hopes the rest will come in the form of pledges, which can be made here.

Whatever comes of his efforts, let's hope it's not the last thing he sees!

You Can Do That On A Bike

 As I pedaled across the bridge from New Brunswick to Highland Park, New Jersey, a police cruiser pulled up alongside me.

That should have been easy to do because no one else was crossing the bridge at that hour.  But I noticed that the cruiser approached me in an almost hesitant way. 

The officer in the non-driver rasped, “Stop.”  I complied.  He opened his door.

“You know, you were weaving all over the road.  I know there’s no traffic, but still...

I looked at him sheepishly.  “Where are you going’?”

He realized I was only a couple blocks from the apartment I shared.  “OK.  Be careful.  And next time, get a ride home.”

I don’t know whether he smelled the hooch or simply knew, from looking at me, that I could just barely see—let alone ride—straight.  (Had I understood then what I understand now, I would have realized that I can’t do anything straight!;-)

I was about 20 and since then, much fluid has passed under that bridge. It was one thing to ride home drunk from a party because of youthful folly combined with a lack of planning. So I have to wonder about the wisdom of a

bike ride with stops for alcohol consumption.

Apparently, some folks in Scottsdale, Arizona think it would be fun.  They’ve planned a  bicycle pub crawl  for Leap Year Day (29 February).

I wonder:  How does one crawl on a bicycle?  And how far do they ride between each pub? 

Changes

Yesterday I talked about beginnings and endings.

Well, that theme is relevant today.

No, I'm not ending this blog--or beginning a new one.  

What I decided, instead, was to try a new look to start the new year.  I've used the same format, layout and themes throughout this blog's history, which spans almost a decade.

You can keep bikes, friends, books and sometimes partners for ten years.  But I don't think most of you want to see the same thing all the time.

I must admit that I am having a bit of "separation anxiety", if you will.  But, as the I Ching teaches us, life is change.  

Riding To End, And Begin

Happy New Year!

I began this year with a whole wheat bagel from Lots o Bagels.  I brought another of their whole wheat bagels on my first ride of the year, to Point Lookout:  a 120 kilometer (72 mile) round trip.

That, after ending last year with  140 kilometer ride to and from Connecticut.  I encountered more traffic than I anticipated, but at least most of them, I assume, hadn’t begun to drink.

The moral of this post?  The best way to begin or end is to ride.

Hmm...Does that apply to the book I’m writing?