We go about our lives quite routinely. Everything in its place and time. I wake up at 7:50a. I run through the shower. I sit on the kitchen counter eating Grape Nuts (which are neither grapes or nuts). I arrive to work, usually late but before the boss. I work. I come home from work, I go to the gym, I come home, I write (or I stare at blank pages). I cook some sort of edible substance that passes for food. I look at my bike sitting on the trainer begging to be ridden. I look away. I laugh at how much money I spent on the trainer. If it's Thursday I watch an hour of TV. I go to bed.
We take it all for granted. Groceries. Book stores. Bike shops. Sushi at that place downtown.
This week, I'm forced to take time off for reasons that aren't really important, but it involved anesthesia, an incision, and a gown - not in that order. As a result, I'm sitting on my arse watching Netflix and staring at blank pages. My training regimen derailed, I'm looking at a gaping hole in my training calendar.
This is the time of year when every serious Roadie should be hitting it hard in preparation for the upcoming season. There's an adage that says, "Winter is for fitness; Summer is for fun." Well, it's winter, and I'm having neither fitness nor fun. And like any typical Roadie, I'm imagining/fretting that every other racer is becoming Arnold freakin' Schartzeneger during this 'off season' and will crush me like a worm at the first race of the 'on season' which begins seven weeks from now.
I've had some friends complain about catching a cold that puts them out of action for a few days.
Well, all it takes is one quick look at any news outlet for a dose of perspective: Haiti.
(photos of the people of Haiti taken by my brother, David)
I've never really been in an Earthquake (see story below). I can only imagine what it's like to have your house shaken like a polaroid picture and discarded. In Haiti, routines will take many months to restore... if you live.
Snap back to reality. My four days on the couch are embarrassingly minor when compared to 4 days trapped under the rubble that was once your house.
It shouldn't take a major catastrophe to remind us of these things.
My one and only experience with an earthquake: San Francisco, 1994. I'm in the hotel lobby at 5am to catch a shuttle to the airport. As I'm checking out, the man with a heavy accent behind the counter asks me, "deed you feel air-di-quate?"
I thought he said, 'did I feel adequate?' as in, did I sleep OK? Hmm that's a funny way to ask it, but I got it. I try hard to understand people who speak funny, so I was happy that I figured it out quickly without making him repeat it. I dismissively said, "Yeah, Everything was fine."
No, he asked it again with emphasis on the Air-di-quate?
Long pause.
Ooooh, earthquake! Yeah. No, I didn't feel it.
Apparently, it was the kind of shaker that rousts everyone from their room and into the hallway.
I slept right through it, and now must rely on my imagination to know how horrible it must be to literally have your world come crashing down around you.
A week off the bike is no big deal. Even in February.
