Blooms

“Oh no coach, you’re bleeding!” “I’m always bleeding.” I can’t believe I still have this conversation. Honestly, everyone should know by now. Back at the cars after a mountain bike ride, blood streaks my arms. A kid, usually one of the younger ones, approaches me with concern. At some point during the ride, I brush … Continue reading Blooms

Decline

My coworker Bob called them chapter breaks—those steps in our fitness level that we periodically tumble down, never to return. I noticed this first in my thirties. I lined up a string of successes, personal records in a couple of races—a 10K and a ten-mile—a respectable marathon time, twenty-third overall in a thirty-three-story stair climb … Continue reading Decline

Fragility

Pattern in sand left by thirty to forty mile per hour winds  -- Jeff, are you OK driving? Is the drop-off too steep? -- Dad, you’re really off balance, are you good? -- Jeff, did you eat enough for this hike? -- Dad, are you still feeling dizzy? -- Jeff, be careful, don’t touch that … Continue reading Fragility

Pumped Up

I dreamed about ‘the woods’ last night. The woods were a sprawling swath of undeveloped land separating my neighborhood from Interstate 270. During my grade school years, my friends and I spent our afternoons and weekends searching for salamanders and crayfish under rocks in the rainwater stream bisecting the woods. We roamed well-worn paths and … Continue reading Pumped Up

Cliffhanger No. 3

Cliffhanger. Do people know this word? My generation does, and those generations before me. It’s old fashion-y, like nickelodeons and world’s fairs. Nickelodeons—I just stumbled on this word while I looked up the etymology of cliffhanger. The first cinemas were called nickelodeons—back around the turn of the century (the prior one, old fashion-y, remember). People … Continue reading Cliffhanger No. 3

O.L.D.

Susan and I walked the neighborhood loop this morning, the short version, just as the world heated up. I planned to go running, something longish—maybe eight miles on the road or seven in the woods. But I didn’t gather my stuff last night before bed, and I didn’t set an alarm for the morning. I … Continue reading O.L.D.

Vanity

Farmland elementary school. Named for the vast and plentiful fields they bulldozed to build my neighborhood. Me: eleven years old, sixth grade. My class produced a play—a scene from an Arthurian Court. My role was the Court Page. My single line: “Ho, the royal nurse!” which I couldn’t say properly. I couldn’t pronounce the letter … Continue reading Vanity