tao of tom v 2.0

from the mind of tom waits

broken bicycles

broken bicycles, old busted chains
with rusted handle bars, out in the rain
somebody must have an orphanage for
all these things that nobody wants any more

september's reminding july
it's time to be saying goodbye
summer is gone, but our love will remain
like old broken bicycles out in the rain

broken bicycles, don't tell my folks
there's all those playing cards pinned to the spokes
laid down like skeletons out on the lawn
the wheels won't turn when the other has gone

the seasons can turn on a dime
somehow I forget every time
for all the things that you've given me will always stay
broken, but I'll never throw them away

f-cup ta's

happy solstice. bittersweet this year. tomorrow, the fool, family and a few select veterans will be making the annual pilgrimage of art loeb. my celebration will take place with lew dogg on the bark and ridgeline at sunrise. i think a trip up the icy butte is in order. would i rather be in north carolina? yes. but i'll do what i can.

wanting and longing of the etherial journey of ALTAR has me thinking of the days in the woods recently. fog adds ambiance. silence, even amongst a group, seems to bring an enchantment to the sleeping woods. water line is higher, but seems to rush no greater than usual. no sense of panic. almost building a base of it's own for the pending spring runoff. after the first of the year i truly will be preparing to lay in some specificity towards my running of western states in the middle of next year. this journey has turned from a race to a journey for me, and i am confident that now, finally, the time is right to prepare for and take it. this is the third year in a row an opportunity to start has presented itself. in 2006, i won the lottery, but my body rebelled against my toxic spirit in the form of multiple injuries. broken heart at the death of a close friend, broken ribs racing shut-in and an achilles injury prevented me from even getting started to prepare. this turned me back to the bicycle where i rediscovered spirit and balance in the woods by surfing the dirt a different way. relocation to the west coast seemed to bring a renewed vigor for trail running. my group was a bunch of WS veterans. the enthusiasm was infectious. soon, i found myself taking advantage of an opportunity to earn my spot the old fashioned way, and i raced my way into the 2007 event by taking 2nd at American River. 10 days of kamp soon followed and while i ran well at kamp, i realized what a journey this was going to be and it left me knowing that i was not ready for the total experience of the event. 100 miles is a long way, and while physically, i think i would of been fine. i had not built the mental strength to sojourn. it proved to be the right choice as my may and june proved.

now we have 2008. lottery lucky. third year in a row this event and i have crossed paths. i feel like all the tools are in place. i am finally ready to set off on this journey. what a beautiful thing to have to look forward to.

creature lip

***

apres' work

the path by day and night can be a tale of dual adventures. whether it's the fog of sleepiness that a shower and coffee simply could not shake, or the elation at setting the alarm and locking the door to get out and do what you have spent the last 8 hours supporting the lifestyle of. sometimes you just want to get a little of that bicycle way of life yourself.

i want to focus on the after work. the end of the day is when people tend to truly say, "fuck it" and just let things happen. it's almost like they have resigned themselves to the ending of that particular 24 hours of their life. the cautious optimism that seems to accompany the morning like a hopeful smile and wet hair from the shower pales in comparison to seeing things like finding a guy who had a recumbant bicycle set up on his back porch attached to an indoor trainer spinning in place while looking out over the river. or. this particular 3 speed that was simply parked and abandoned on the river path. not cast aside and laying in the ditch like a discarded sex toy, reeking of crime or theft. but neatly parked like the owner was just off in the shadows smelling a rose or picking blackberries...in the dark. i also saw a guy on all fours creeping down to the creek side to sneak up on the sleeping ducks. shirtless, but he was wearing gloves and a beanie hat.

that said. i do enjoy riding home. snapping turns, rolling through alleys and backstreets avoiding stoplights and bike lanes. getting to the path that allows me to flow with the current, instead of against it. clear nights with bright moons and you can see the water flowing and all that disturbs it's path underneath...beautiful. like a raw, unpolished, skating rink.

when the end of the day comes for me. i makes me want to drink a few beers, get back out into the dark on the bike and see the city before my chariot turns back into the pumpkin.

210 days

day started with some good news. had hardly stepped out the door and was building up a head of steam on the morning commute when my chest plate started to buzz. lord balls says the caller ID which can only mean one thing.

i'm in.

let out the whoop. thanks extended for the call, then off to the day ahead. weather is here in a bad way. cold rain, some icing and hopefully sweet, fluffy powder for those nordic dreams and sunday ski plans. i'll elaborate on the pending journey to a centum at a later date.