tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7131493002600425662024-03-04T21:29:21.973-08:00idaho rideridahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-90901075500504109602013-09-29T22:19:00.002-07:002013-09-29T22:19:33.195-07:00Sunday Night Haikucold air on my skin<br />
summer heat is just a dream<br />
winter must be nearidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-32146442636064798282013-09-02T16:27:00.000-07:002013-09-29T22:00:07.574-07:00Goodbye Abbey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3">We lost our dog yesterday. No, that’s not true. We didn’t lose her, she died. Dead, done, over, finished. And I am heartbroken. </span><span class="s3">This morning when I let the ot</span><span class="s3">her dog</span><span class="s3">s in the house, first Carlos, then Ed, I waited for her. Just for a moment, but long enough to break my heart all over again. We’ve had her for 12 years, and she was part of the routine of our lives. There were 3, now there are 2.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"> The thing is, I have always felt a little guilty about grieving for my pets when they die. Sure, it’s a loss, and I do love them, but in the end, she was just a dog. Just a dog. I think about what that means. She was part of our family, but not like a child. I know people who have lost children, and I by no means would compare this to that. I am sad now, but I will get over it, unlike the mother that will grieve, and I mean really grieve</span><span class="s3">,</span><span class="s3"> for that child that she lost 30 years ago. Yet, there is st</span><span class="s3">ill this</span><span class="s3"> loss to deal with. But</span><span class="s3"> what have I lost?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"> It is said that dog is man's best friend, but for me, that’s not really true. M</span><span class="s3">y wife is my best friend. It is also said that dogs love us unconditionally, but I'm not sure that I believe that. They depend on us</span><span class="s3">, and they need us. We are their pack, their family, b</span><span class="s3">ut is it truly love? I don’t know. So wha</span><span class="s3">t is this emptiness that I feel?</span><span class="s3"> What did she mean to me?</span><span class="s3"> What have all my dogs meant to me?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"> Over the years, I have struggled off and on with depression. </span><span class="s3">Like so many others,</span><span class="s3"> </span><span class="s3">I have experienced </span><span class="s3">loneliness</span><span class="s3">, hopelessness, isolation, the full gambit. And through those times, there is usually someone that I can turn to; my wife, a friend, a doctor, God. Usually. But sometimes, when the isolation is too great, the only one who I can </span><span class="s3">feel</span><span class="s3"> h</span><span class="s3">as been my dog. Who else AL</span><span class="s3">WAYS</span><span class="s3"> has the time to g</span><span class="s3">reet me when I walk in the door?</span><span class="s3"> Who el</span><span class="s3">se is ALWAYS</span><span class="s3"> happy to see me. Who else is ALWAYS available for a hug, and who</span><span class="s3"> else will ALWAYS</span><span class="s3"> let me lie down next to them, arrange them the way I want them, and let me bury my face in their furry neck and cry?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3"> I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but </span><span class="s3">I like to think so. In fact, sometimes I think that if there aren’t dogs in heaven, I don’t want to go there. Maybe we won’t need them there. Maybe heaven is so fulfilling, we won’t need our dogs. But, I think that dogs are one of God’s gifts to us. He knows how hard life is, and He knows that we all need a little bit of fur to hold onto. So my vision, what I see when I think of heaven, is all of us staring up into the brilliant face of God…and at His feet, napping, snoring, licking themselves, are his dogs. Our dogs.</span></span></div>
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idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-54484882336884186452010-03-14T19:26:00.000-07:002010-03-14T19:31:49.351-07:00Sunday Night Haiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZXX8CDI0eARhdGMeD_cwBo-7dKiN9sWKKaSNMMbPPrUNbtP2Z-LmF0VXmVjSU1hr7nQBs24fLaEwtdVtdie1qKdxEeY6p61rUzqDNeHz8DcP2GQi3sVg6RwCp8eUfXwD1FNpBdnJPW_K/s1600-h/P2230132.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZXX8CDI0eARhdGMeD_cwBo-7dKiN9sWKKaSNMMbPPrUNbtP2Z-LmF0VXmVjSU1hr7nQBs24fLaEwtdVtdie1qKdxEeY6p61rUzqDNeHz8DcP2GQi3sVg6RwCp8eUfXwD1FNpBdnJPW_K/s320/P2230132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448682393543863618" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />the world was so big<br />that I got lost in my head<br />don't come look for meidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-29031182579334129082010-03-07T22:48:00.000-08:002010-03-07T22:54:23.546-08:00Sunday Night Haikuin the early spring<br />the crow returns to the yard<br />he must hate the snowidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-3497884855473406452010-03-07T13:39:00.000-08:002010-03-07T22:45:55.946-08:00Dream Fulfilled?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksj3tSaAfjmP3XqY52YiwX_cdFCxquCg4J1VlWuFpxUslieP1P-PK1gKeFn7JWckTiWNUWfH5_p-emnpWrx2HnLTrcgXJu0eK_AezhV1qh38Ehyn_2pTwL5OH5UXlLHeDbQFE1BxtCcbE/s1600-h/P2220108.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksj3tSaAfjmP3XqY52YiwX_cdFCxquCg4J1VlWuFpxUslieP1P-PK1gKeFn7JWckTiWNUWfH5_p-emnpWrx2HnLTrcgXJu0eK_AezhV1qh38Ehyn_2pTwL5OH5UXlLHeDbQFE1BxtCcbE/s320/P2220108.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446145402391912274" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So, anyhow, I spent last week in a hut in the Canadian Rockies, backcountry skiing. This was a trip that I have spent the last 12 years building the skills needed to be a part of, and now that I have done it, I am faced with that age old question, was it worth it? Was it worth the years that I have spent running, riding, hiking and skiing to build the strength and conditioning needed for a week climbing in the mountains? Was it worth the pain, frustration, time and money spent to develop the skiing skills to ski in the backcountry? Was it worth the time that I have spent in courses, reading books, spending powder days training instead of having fun skiing, so that I could learn the avalanche safety and snow skills needed, the 1st aid skills needed to make me a valuable team member, the mountain skills needed for even being in the backcountry, and the leadership skills needed anytime that you place yourself in a situation as remote and unpredictable as the winter backcountry? Was it worth the mental anguish that I always put my crazy self through, constantly questioning my motives, my skills, my conditioning, the time spent, the money spent, etc., etc., etc.?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgxhjOhyY3NBh6hCn1NhKKt5BxH-_m2Dc86MQjofPQpPvrNWPQ7U8rguq2D1ZzF-G3g3Ps-tb8338HJzJpw5mCaF9-A6EwNRozz9i_rWUA1qsxYvm-w_EhhJangPp2H_ugFC5KTcpUWaT/s1600-h/P2210075.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgxhjOhyY3NBh6hCn1NhKKt5BxH-_m2Dc86MQjofPQpPvrNWPQ7U8rguq2D1ZzF-G3g3Ps-tb8338HJzJpw5mCaF9-A6EwNRozz9i_rWUA1qsxYvm-w_EhhJangPp2H_ugFC5KTcpUWaT/s320/P2210075.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446149361794404466" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Oh Hell Yeah! It was an amazing week. We had beautiful weather, great snow, amazing food, and good company. We fell into a routine, nay, almost a ballet, by the second day. At 6a.m. every morning, John would hop out of bed and head down for the cook hut to start breakfast. Aaron, who had been waiting for half an hour for someone to get up, would head down and fire up the stove. At 6:15, Eric's alarm would sound. At 6:30, Eric would get up and go start the coffee. Then, knowing that the cook hut was warm, breakfast was cooking, and the coffee was ready, I would crawl out of bed, put on my base layer for the day, and head down. Paul would follow shortly.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hj1XfY3uH0e7RZCEqLlaDN1KNfGSA3Um6_QugBSSJ_fBLvTANaffTtPXGYomKVj6LmW3eRih6DuuzFT8qPnhe-m4jR6a-UOM1Qj7Zr_x-XKukgnhwjJwBiogTK5JhbqzNOgFDbLBl-ET/s1600-h/P2240155.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hj1XfY3uH0e7RZCEqLlaDN1KNfGSA3Um6_QugBSSJ_fBLvTANaffTtPXGYomKVj6LmW3eRih6DuuzFT8qPnhe-m4jR6a-UOM1Qj7Zr_x-XKukgnhwjJwBiogTK5JhbqzNOgFDbLBl-ET/s320/P2240155.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446148456347719954" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After breakfast was eaten and the dishes and chores were done, we would start getting ready for skiing. Lunches had to be packed, blisters covered, gear that had been hanging over the stove to dry had to be repacked, and, the worst part, boots had to be donned. By 9 o'clock, we were hiking. The hikes were long and beautiful. We had sunshine the first few days, so we were able to go above treeline. Once the weather changed, we stayed closer to home and skied the trees. Not a bad way to spend a week, and definitely worth the cost, not only in terms of the money, but in the effort it takes to be able to enjoy the backcountry.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_jLG71ownvWUxP6dBFhgYwKirkmtJKpy20wjNWpVD4L4AolrqRfF7v4wAhdi9f0ehXb9bq_KbNwz2CSTx0NeKSCF1zLMc3Ls2k9tw3zNfCVWxoa5NT2cQgQcxkGH22o0moDn_OX7_2OG/s1600-h/P2210052.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_jLG71ownvWUxP6dBFhgYwKirkmtJKpy20wjNWpVD4L4AolrqRfF7v4wAhdi9f0ehXb9bq_KbNwz2CSTx0NeKSCF1zLMc3Ls2k9tw3zNfCVWxoa5NT2cQgQcxkGH22o0moDn_OX7_2OG/s320/P2210052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446147397098232930" border="0" /></a>idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-90354602719437181452010-01-03T22:24:00.000-08:002010-01-03T22:31:40.354-08:00Sunday Night Haiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7uwB63iPoW94FBQz8jn8XWc_D24WK3yniyyG7ltaD9t9MBTlcuvEzDiApcMWk7DFTbmQXdY0r17LvK1XiKkxZHJgDuUGgju1Glk_RXFoTyMpGy0ZxYCDf5chC7EA-WbNchpNFbLhcXSH/s1600-h/s1459250293_1860357_5562.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7uwB63iPoW94FBQz8jn8XWc_D24WK3yniyyG7ltaD9t9MBTlcuvEzDiApcMWk7DFTbmQXdY0r17LvK1XiKkxZHJgDuUGgju1Glk_RXFoTyMpGy0ZxYCDf5chC7EA-WbNchpNFbLhcXSH/s400/s1459250293_1860357_5562.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422768479236673138" /></a><br /><br />hike for three hours <br />to slide for fifteen minutes<br />perfect equationidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-69250479516572755802010-01-01T21:53:00.001-08:002010-01-01T22:22:50.229-08:00On the Couch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTXGzAVAZUOb-Gy8qqdiUL-wvsC_L1EGPCLQKZkeV3g_07kEJ-yIvJ8qSqNUDQkZ26VGpd-JI2ioQUUiyZB5YX4Vp5lpd03c0mPaeJBkH6HefOAvtzoWz_pQNM1dX0o8SLTku_4wPn8aV/s1600-h/P1010002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTXGzAVAZUOb-Gy8qqdiUL-wvsC_L1EGPCLQKZkeV3g_07kEJ-yIvJ8qSqNUDQkZ26VGpd-JI2ioQUUiyZB5YX4Vp5lpd03c0mPaeJBkH6HefOAvtzoWz_pQNM1dX0o8SLTku_4wPn8aV/s320/P1010002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422023215248949666" /></a><br />Last night I went to bed unsure of what I would do today. I set my alarm for 7, in case I decided to go into Coeur d'Alene and run the Hangover 5 miler road race, and I left my phone on my bed side table, in case anybody called to go skiing. I washed all my running and skiing gear, and went to bed, figuring that I would arise in the morning and see what the day might bring.<br /><br />I woke up this morning at about 5, got up, turned my alarm clock off and went back to bed. I awoke again at around 8:30, and knew that there was no way I was going to get up to go run a race. I was just too sleepy. I woke up again at about 9:30, looked at my phone to make sure I had not missed a call, and then got up and made coffee and pancakes for G and myself.<br /><br />To make a long story short, I spent the entire day on the couch. I read, I watched HGTV, football, a Twilight Zone Marathon, downloaded some free tunes from @#$%^&*, ate cheese and crackers, drank hot cocoa, watched it rain, watched the squirrels, watched the movie version of Horton Hears a Who (not bad, if you forget the fact that this is a beautiful story by Dr. Suess), called my sister, watched some more football, tormented the dogs, tormented G, spied on the neighbors, watched a little more football, and then went upstairs to go to bed. <br /><br />All in all, not a bad way to start the new year.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-77810996308637155252009-12-28T21:29:00.000-08:002009-12-28T21:33:40.356-08:00Sunday Night Haiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwVITAKN2s-RaqMLGxd2B1EMmDku3P4ZLb7gxunwhV1ExlYbWQY4P5snTT1QbNk68ods_NmvnIxXbOUvOqfFhnx8pmPDiTLm8DRwJ9ZrdYCojeRL_ajs2JW8Cm15Nfe9K9HOlrB0BcQN1W/s1600-h/PC270001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwVITAKN2s-RaqMLGxd2B1EMmDku3P4ZLb7gxunwhV1ExlYbWQY4P5snTT1QbNk68ods_NmvnIxXbOUvOqfFhnx8pmPDiTLm8DRwJ9ZrdYCojeRL_ajs2JW8Cm15Nfe9K9HOlrB0BcQN1W/s320/PC270001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420527063019959458" /></a><br /><br /><br />so cold on my toes<br />the hairs in my nose are froze<br />maybe one more run?idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-7047537552039662772009-12-22T21:48:00.001-08:002009-12-23T22:38:52.503-08:00Blue Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTzQktdcgCPSjy00JO8ossub-H99fydF0vLojLFiTsvs_YsdL8P-8_kMVpYE2BDExgxnaFjDkkdNHLYbGWwXSXz4gCD6Q_OEi0f8GUGWiaIfSuxxzz1sfGy6U2deNcjXP_vbcwqfP9hCw/s1600-h/PC100036.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTzQktdcgCPSjy00JO8ossub-H99fydF0vLojLFiTsvs_YsdL8P-8_kMVpYE2BDExgxnaFjDkkdNHLYbGWwXSXz4gCD6Q_OEi0f8GUGWiaIfSuxxzz1sfGy6U2deNcjXP_vbcwqfP9hCw/s320/PC100036.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418688353287200290" /></a><br /><br />I missed the Blue Christmas service at church. I'm bummed, because that is my favorite service of the year. Not that I get all depressed during the holidays, at least no more than you can expect when you live where the sun sets at 10 til 4 in December, but I just like the somberness of the service, the walking and praying of the labyrinth, and the quiet contemplation that the evening brings. Christmas is a joyous occasion, as we wait once again for God to walk among us, and show us how to live a sane life, even when surrounded by insanity. But for those of us who live far from home and family, it is also a daily reminder of what we have left behind, and lost.<br /><br />I love living in the inland northwest. I love the 4 seasons, all the outdoor pursuits that are available, and I love the people. I have made great friends, and I have a church family that I depend upon. I could never imagine moving back east. That is just not who I am anymore. It was however, the place of my childhood. 312 Evelyn street is where I spent so many of my Christmases. I can still feel the warm air from the heat vent that I would sit in front of, as my family sang Christmas carols on Christmas Eve. My mother would play the organ, all the kids would sing, and my Father would sit in his chair and smile, enjoying his one great accomplishment in life, his family.<br /><br />Thursday night, Christmas Eve, G and I will go to the 7 o'clock service at church, then come home, and with much unasked for help from the heeler, we will open our Christmas presents. Then we will eat pizza rolls, drink hot chocolate, and watch "the Snowman." Christmas morning, I will go up and ski for a few hours with my buds, and then G and I will go over to Pastors house for an informal dinner of comfort food. That is our tradition, and I love it. I would not trade it for anything, except for maybe one more time hearing my Mother play her organ, and to see my dad's smile.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-87746530510624435842009-12-13T22:02:00.000-08:002009-12-13T22:12:17.971-08:00Sunday Night Haiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYg_cHT4b2WDTUeTSeG4BDgSMH0BIHkJJmbQFK6Po7nLy3tTYpsjSaEJuQP4qlS-XVZ5M7dl8f9KSw907DRj3i5ggr1p4EL6-9lbZ1oiM3gotGBK1jK9nM0Efec5xy1gJkORivRiOCtNY/s1600-h/PA170005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYg_cHT4b2WDTUeTSeG4BDgSMH0BIHkJJmbQFK6Po7nLy3tTYpsjSaEJuQP4qlS-XVZ5M7dl8f9KSw907DRj3i5ggr1p4EL6-9lbZ1oiM3gotGBK1jK9nM0Efec5xy1gJkORivRiOCtNY/s320/PA170005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414968689252606882" /></a><br /><br />If I'd not seen you<br />I would never know this pain<br />that has made me wholeidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-43190986691753882242009-12-13T21:29:00.000-08:002009-12-13T21:50:13.502-08:00StuffWell, I trust that no one is left to read this. Good. That means it's just you and me. I've not been on a bicycle since October, and have no plans to get back on until March 1. Pretty much just a date that I pulled out of my ass. Hopefully, my little problem will have gone away. If not, then I will be trying to sell a Kona mountain bike in order to raise money for a recumbent. What the hell, it's ski season anyways. Though I've not been skiing yet. There is a little matter of no snow. <br /><br />Things around here have been kinda slow. The heeler and I are running 3 days a week, which, along with a couple of days a week on the elliptical at he gym, keeps me in pretty good hiking shape, I hope. Now we're just waiting for enough snow to get into the back country. The biggest news concerns G. Her back is going south pretty quick. She went to see a neurosurgeon, who basically said that she needed to see somebody about getting her scoliosis surgically repaired . We've been surfing the web, looking at different sights. Holy Crap, we're talking major surgery! They go in both anteriorly and posteriorly, break up the vertebrae, and then screw them all back together. The neurosurgeon wanted us to go to Seattle, but I think that our insurance may force us to stay in Spokane. We'll see. Holy crap...<br /><br />It's been cold in North Idaho, but that's all right by me. I have gotten to really love this time of year. The sun is setting before 4 o'clock, so the evenings are long. G and I have been holing up and trying to figure things out. Plans have changed, but we are ok. I guess that's just how it is. Peace.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-88203316322172023082009-12-06T23:02:00.000-08:002009-12-06T23:05:09.629-08:00Sunday Night Haikustars like ice crystals<br />and a wind blows so cold it<br />freezes your laughteridahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-40018702873064736452009-11-29T22:42:00.000-08:002009-11-29T22:58:06.561-08:00Sunday Night Haiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TpzcN4DrY-tP0ZWDozBeImUM8m5KFl2VUSSe8lFNCrSD6hKo8nCD_Lz1EeTs97noCmaJ80CcJUL6Jpa43lB7YVcIAF0ILnm1LXj6V8atBaRJBeKP3HvdbPmDpxkVYfBCd5S_8khZWofb/s1600/P9090090.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TpzcN4DrY-tP0ZWDozBeImUM8m5KFl2VUSSe8lFNCrSD6hKo8nCD_Lz1EeTs97noCmaJ80CcJUL6Jpa43lB7YVcIAF0ILnm1LXj6V8atBaRJBeKP3HvdbPmDpxkVYfBCd5S_8khZWofb/s320/P9090090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409787119290224482" border="0" /></a><br /><br />stripped of all I know<br />till there is nothing but me<br />God craves a good jokeidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-49085674902382483502009-11-15T22:38:00.001-08:002009-11-15T22:44:31.010-08:00Sunday Night Haiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HXfExRayRVQFORppjQNPh6sRrzRes_ont2PsfRkWBE6v8r1xnSTZX1VZ3A33G3Si9vszRAknhPyEtxaY2wYC3aBmNh6irFa6chRCGP-w_BCDS22k_w8Tt4w4qIgKs3CE4ZUE6XlA3x0_/s1600/IMG_0005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HXfExRayRVQFORppjQNPh6sRrzRes_ont2PsfRkWBE6v8r1xnSTZX1VZ3A33G3Si9vszRAknhPyEtxaY2wYC3aBmNh6irFa6chRCGP-w_BCDS22k_w8Tt4w4qIgKs3CE4ZUE6XlA3x0_/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404588542937811362" /></a><br />all day steel grey skies<br />and at times snow flakes falling<br />I love these wintersidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-925184427503300322009-10-12T14:35:00.001-07:002009-10-12T19:31:53.573-07:00Starting OverI've purposely not been here for awhile. My idea of writing a blog based on commuting by bicycle has hit a few snags; due to a, how do I put this delicately, fucked up prostate, I'm not even sure I am a cyclist anymore. Also, does the world, or the 3 people who read this, need another bike commuter blog. There are plenty of them out there. But I do want to write, and this seems to be a good outlet. If I think that there are a few people reading this, then I tend to feel some commitment, and there is less chance of me lying. Well, maybe not. Never let the facts interfere with a good story.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-16976234560825823302009-10-11T21:04:00.001-07:002009-10-11T21:09:58.461-07:00Sunday Night Haiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEike8RYhV9K3zuJhUuj_Bd2kH5TihnY7O1BfqhRM_lGdz-3lmKd1zAfeBOwDq26r05rTqcGettIQQntfwXn3O21Yl7selvXPr_VbIzmp6niQniaHphNM6IKAXcchpq1PWNxWlHRXaxwpHeD/s1600-h/P8140008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEike8RYhV9K3zuJhUuj_Bd2kH5TihnY7O1BfqhRM_lGdz-3lmKd1zAfeBOwDq26r05rTqcGettIQQntfwXn3O21Yl7selvXPr_VbIzmp6niQniaHphNM6IKAXcchpq1PWNxWlHRXaxwpHeD/s320/P8140008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391560823137254306" /></a><br />cold that blows through me<br />brings a smile to my chapped lips<br />snow will soon be hereidahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-70716589339604686732009-08-22T08:23:00.000-07:002009-08-23T13:13:15.754-07:00Life at GNH StudiosMan, I can't believe it's been 2 weeks since I last wrote. Sorry about that, but things have been kind of busy around here. G and I have been working hard trying to get her studio painted so that the carpet people could come. We're done with the painting, the carpet is in, and all the furniture is back in. Now, G just has to get all her stuff back in place. What a mess!<br /><br /><br />It was actually pretty fun painting. Those of you that know me, know that I am not real into home redecorating. I have always told G, that she could do anything that she wanted, as long as it could be done while I was out on a bike ride. That was fine with her, because she is a perfectionist, and I am not. In other words, she wants to do it right, and I just want to get it done, so that I can go ride my bike. Unfortunately, as her spine continues to degenerate, the option for her to do all the things hat she wants to do is just not there. So, there is no other choice but for me to be her laborer. And much to my surprise, I have really enjoyed it.<br /><br />The only problem with working for G, is that she is an artist, so nothing can be simple (which translates to fewer bike rides), but since we were really trying to get her studio done, I had her convinced to tone things down. I took a Friday off, and we had the whole downstairs primed and painted, including the ceiling, by Monday morning. That meant the carpet people could get right on it. Then disaster; the carpet that G had picked was out of stock, and had to be ordered. That gave G 2 weeks to think about her studio. So, now there is a stripe around the top of the walls, that gives the room a sense of depth, or contrast, or something else artsy. Anyway, it does look good, and I was able to talk her out of the 4th color.<br /><br />I have been riding a bit lately. I'm riding to work 3 times a week, and getting a longer ride on the road bike on Saturdays. The knee is feeling good, though my leg still wears out pretty quickly. I see Doctor on Tuesday. I'm really jonesing for a mountain bike ride.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-53019098646770693932009-08-06T18:34:00.000-07:002009-08-06T19:33:49.416-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_PEypOC5nC4rNJaO14T4nezDj6X_j_a3XKzeTWjep7NiXj0cXsDSQdaGI5qpYbr0ydbtRbMUfHqEZz_ooEk5qz-oLQj-VHJZkD28RBlFAMs7FXvWmkLyp9ES4DbVglirKF8r1sYd-PIf/s1600-h/Fat+Cyclist.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_PEypOC5nC4rNJaO14T4nezDj6X_j_a3XKzeTWjep7NiXj0cXsDSQdaGI5qpYbr0ydbtRbMUfHqEZz_ooEk5qz-oLQj-VHJZkD28RBlFAMs7FXvWmkLyp9ES4DbVglirKF8r1sYd-PIf/s320/Fat+Cyclist.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367043906445433170" border="0" /></a><br />Tonight, before you go to bed, read some of the <a href="http://fatcyclist.com/">FatCyclist</a> blog. Then, tell your wife, husband, partner, companion, mother, brother, sister, father how much you love them and how much they mean to you. Then, go back to Fatty's blog and donate to Livestrong. Last, but not least, say a prayer; for Fatty, for Susan, for all who have lost and all who have suffered.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-15418726598347872472009-07-29T21:32:00.000-07:002009-07-29T22:06:10.963-07:00Poop of the DayI don't know what kind of poop you see on your daily commute, but here in northern Idaho, it can be quite varied. Of course, riding on a multi-use bike path, dog poop is not at all unusual, especially behind the I-90 rest area at Huetter Road. I have no idea why someone would watch their dog take a crap on the trail, and then not bother to dispose of it. I guess they just figure that no one else in the world is going to come along that trail.<br /><br />Horse poop is also not unusual. Horses are not allowed on the trail, but that seems to be more of a guideline than a rule, and good lord, horses take a lot of craps. There is nothing I like more than riding through a nice fresh pile of horse shit, and then having it fly off my tires for the next hundred yards. Thank God for fenders.<br /><br />Last spring, as the snow melted off of the trail, there appeared quite a bit of moose poop. But even that didn't surprise me that much. The moose population in these parts is growing, and like most places, there habitat is being encroached on more and more. I can only hope that I don't ride upon a moose cow and calf out on the trail. They are big, and like most mothers, don't take a perceived threat to their child lightly.<br /><br />Then, last week, as I was slowly climbing the last short hill of the day (Dr King, if you are reading this; There are no hills on my commute. I swear!), I happened to look down, right as I passed a small pile of poop. I didn't think too much of it at the time, it was just poop. Then, it occurred to me, there was something unusual about that poop, so I went back for another look. Sure enough, it was full of cherry pits. A small (I hope) black bear must have been gorging himself on one of the wild cherry trees that grows along the trail, and then just couldn't contain himself till he got back to the woods. Yep, bear crap:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpAKQXR-qa8Ia4UlxGHNzrHm2Kfn-wT2CDD21g2qQ3ODsvL_uO28gz39JMNv2S0y0ePSRExb038XgVg6xLus-dj4DfyYBxff53m8cee7ERL885m87RV_zJQVzIw33FL-g5km_9Tx8n6mq/s1600-h/P7160012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpAKQXR-qa8Ia4UlxGHNzrHm2Kfn-wT2CDD21g2qQ3ODsvL_uO28gz39JMNv2S0y0ePSRExb038XgVg6xLus-dj4DfyYBxff53m8cee7ERL885m87RV_zJQVzIw33FL-g5km_9Tx8n6mq/s400/P7160012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364114396584807538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvOjVr9eVyNpaU5tkGEvjEE5jAJQ0xatMomZE-5eQN0iTA6OLAI3WCPPSRYO1A6e8ZQqphHkYzmTG9S6eD13o9UG_aIIOUTVdlyAy_CFQf964ocwUv_wODE_Aueds-SEMFkUF92K_zzlK/s1600-h/P7160011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvOjVr9eVyNpaU5tkGEvjEE5jAJQ0xatMomZE-5eQN0iTA6OLAI3WCPPSRYO1A6e8ZQqphHkYzmTG9S6eD13o9UG_aIIOUTVdlyAy_CFQf964ocwUv_wODE_Aueds-SEMFkUF92K_zzlK/s400/P7160011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364114970735688098" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /><br /></span>idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-5587104584219761932009-07-22T22:34:00.000-07:002009-07-22T22:53:18.174-07:00One for FattySo maybe I overdid it a little this week. Last week was the week from hell at work, so all I did was my gym workouts. This week I wanted to push it a little more. I rode to work on Sunday, and then again on Monday. That probably wouldn't have been too much, except that I accidently got out of the saddle on a short climb Monday morning, and discovered I couldn't spin through the top of the pedal stroke. Of course, being the OCD (obsessive-compulsive-dude) that I am, I worried about it all day at work. On the ride home, I kept getting out of the saddle to try to repair my spin. Now, I know that Doctor told me not to push any big gears, but I think what he really meant is to not push any big gears unless you become obsessed with the fact that your pedal stroke is not as good as it once was and you really need to fix it immediately or your entire world may crumble around you. Or something like that. Anyway, my leg has been pretty tired since then, and my knee aches more than it did, but I'm sure it will be just fine. And I can stand on the pedals and spin through the whole pedal stroke.<br /><br />On a more serious note, if you follow Fat Cyclist blog, you know that things are not going real good. Cancer is a horrible disease. If you want to help, <a href="https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=294758&supid=220801643">click here.</a>idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-31747073599894273442009-07-13T20:28:00.000-07:002009-07-13T20:53:07.549-07:00Rainy Days and Mondays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0BKFtv5mI1T5r0u40th4-mndMOjlLEVvY6rJYkpeaFGrFhd4Cu1DRgTtXuBbu5piPzyrvQbFHusYO7y0DyWXXW82OZhQhBeo53D3I8eJgvTFNFiW9m3S102yKUdvJGtFrmJeAnvLxKHw/s1600-h/P5110007.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0BKFtv5mI1T5r0u40th4-mndMOjlLEVvY6rJYkpeaFGrFhd4Cu1DRgTtXuBbu5piPzyrvQbFHusYO7y0DyWXXW82OZhQhBeo53D3I8eJgvTFNFiW9m3S102yKUdvJGtFrmJeAnvLxKHw/s400/P5110007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358158807987434050" border="0" /></a><br />I love Idaho. Yesterday, when I rode to work, it was 91 degrees. Today, it rained all day and never got out of the 50's. July the friggin 13th, and it's 57 degrees! In the deep south, where I grew up, that just never happens. Back there, it gets hot about the end of May, and stays hot until the middle of September, with no breaks. The only relief is when the humidity drops from 80% to 60%. Out here, it's a humid day when the humidity gets above 25%, which rarely happens this time of year.<br /><br />I plan on riding to work tomorrow. I know that I rode to work yesterday, but it was Sunday, and I only went in to catch up on some paperwork. I didn't have to take a change of clothes. and I didn't go in until 2. Tomorrow will be the real thing, panniers loaded, early start, and , the best part, that ride home. Work, as work tends to be, has been incredibly stressful lately. I have missed that afternoon ride home.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-39371174636515749782009-07-12T22:39:00.000-07:002009-07-12T22:51:28.005-07:00Commuting by BikeFor the first time since March 13, I commuted to work by bicycle. It felt pretty good. It was Jeremiah's and my 4th ride (Jeremiah is the name of my new ACL), and it was a pretty good one. Very little pain, just some pressure behind the knee cap, but that is to be expected. I'm being very careful not to push any big gears at all. It's a little hard to granny gear up all hills, but I'm doing it. I'm also having to make sure I drop it into the small ring at all stops. Starting in too big of gear really hurts.<br /><br />I'm not to the point where I can ride 2 days in a row, but I'm going to try to ride to work a couple of times this week. We'll see how it goes.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-29323028667057423312009-07-01T18:38:00.001-07:002009-07-01T18:45:38.433-07:00Yep<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1qPGYiReM6Gz2YCESUsy8RzkPHofa8eJp9YIH_B_-KtxbPgFhpYn-xhGNFX1arwJ-JdCMMuOpqLalbF4cd3huCXr1FWRC_ECDbdYsBIpDmIdGFqu7ojmQVteHBe_V_9Ov-yEYUuRSkTF/s1600-h/P7010009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1qPGYiReM6Gz2YCESUsy8RzkPHofa8eJp9YIH_B_-KtxbPgFhpYn-xhGNFX1arwJ-JdCMMuOpqLalbF4cd3huCXr1FWRC_ECDbdYsBIpDmIdGFqu7ojmQVteHBe_V_9Ov-yEYUuRSkTF/s400/P7010009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353672779386399570" border="0" /></a><br />WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-62158630505926631832009-06-29T19:40:00.000-07:002009-06-29T20:06:21.246-07:00Money makerSince I can't ride or run right now, I have some spare time on my hand. Plus, the only mail that I get these days is medical bills, so I decided to make some extra money by inventing something that the world desperately needs. I now present the Ed CaM.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0n6CcizG_zqQYygtEt8_UTe9Wk2_fdYKBOsr0XnRpCnqGwreGrpwUD9PAQiCBLr1CBN_zN13gk76-RKxbnDxHjeohOYplVpuzDJWJzOE2xw3pq-wX3DOE7Q7HyFzzfsfPmixffLxGtozE/s1600-h/IMG_0366.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0n6CcizG_zqQYygtEt8_UTe9Wk2_fdYKBOsr0XnRpCnqGwreGrpwUD9PAQiCBLr1CBN_zN13gk76-RKxbnDxHjeohOYplVpuzDJWJzOE2xw3pq-wX3DOE7Q7HyFzzfsfPmixffLxGtozE/s400/IMG_0366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352946668994557138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We have only had one trial run so far.<br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwDr1UCaR_J_RLXbcAW-qxUP_FOEkGwq79OoWpR7DKOb7hJCmpFJwEW6nLQ473ayTCbrXz3YoIG9qB70g2V9Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Order information will be available soon.idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713149300260042566.post-90136286298439145922009-06-24T20:44:00.000-07:002009-06-24T22:04:24.074-07:00What are Friends For?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkG0TyF8rU6blyGsq1OoK6lr94bJ6HDorPewaz2JeUQvut3iQWEb43IqbfFB3C6VWcPRE3FJ-rRVCxML2mIF_D_eNpJqjGz6dK7-lFLOdUG9xwXexMfv6AQcefJNISL86uFlU5zOFUEDia/s1600-h/s1459250293_1858379_4970.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkG0TyF8rU6blyGsq1OoK6lr94bJ6HDorPewaz2JeUQvut3iQWEb43IqbfFB3C6VWcPRE3FJ-rRVCxML2mIF_D_eNpJqjGz6dK7-lFLOdUG9xwXexMfv6AQcefJNISL86uFlU5zOFUEDia/s400/s1459250293_1858379_4970.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351123879499089426" border="0" /></a><br />The following post is dedicated to my ski buddies.<br /><br />My initial intent of this blog, as I have stated before, was to write about bicycling, in particular, commuting, as well as skiing and other assorted activities. Unfortunately, as you well know, my active life has been interrupted by my knee injury. Now, I know that the best way to get people to continue reading a blog, is to write on it often. However, and trust me on this one, rehab ain't exactly an exciting topic. Let's see, Monday I had 123 degrees of knee flexion, today I had 128 degrees. Today, I stood on one leg (the surgically repaired one) on a soft mat for 2 minutes. Now, that is gripping stuff. I bet you are glued to your lap top.<br /><br />Things are going pretty good. My rehab has progressed enough that I am able to go to the gym 6 days a week. I alternate between swimming and hamster work (see last post). It's not as much fun as riding, but it is not bad. My evil friend, Rebecca (not her real name), wants me to tell my Doctor that he should allow me to start riding my bike, because my over all health and mental well being is every bit as important as the condition of my knee. I promised Rebecca (I swear that is not her real name) that I would, but that's only because I'm a little, ok, a lot scared of her. But, in the end, I am going to do it by Doctor King's protocol. I am as frustrated as I have ever been with my body, but I am going to do this right. I want my knee to be healthy, I want to climb cave trail on my mountain bike, I want to run a marathon, and next winter, I want to make my ski buddies, Rebecca (I'm not even sure what her real name is) and Banana, suffer, just a little, in the "Sweet Cedars."idahoriderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03118995068036044551noreply@blogger.com1