Monthly Archives: October 2011

A schedule cancellation set me free yesterday morning. I jumped at the chance to sneak in a loop at the Miccosukee Greenway with Mystery. On the way over to his exclusive gated community I stopped for a diluted decaf Americano at Craig’s Killer Coffee. I needed some calories to see me through the 20 mile slog on wet grass and the options were slim. A pan of blueberry muffins, straight from the oven sat on the counter, wafting buttery steam through the air. Impulsively I changed my order to a full throttle latte and asked for a muffin to chase it down.

On the way to Mystery’s exclusive gated community I tore that thing apart and ate it with all the gluttony and guilt of a mother stealing food from her baby’s mouth. I chugged down that whole milk, full caffeinated bucket of lust right behind it. Mystery was never the wiser. For the first 30 minutes of the ride I loped easily up and down the eastern hills, my legs deep and oaken. Somewhere east of I-10 the muffin descended into my pyloric valve and seized up the works. Oh the discomfort! The cramping and gassing! The refined white flour and refined white sugar molecules locked in a sticky unbreakable chemical chain of misery. Mystery sensed difficulty in my wheelhouse and began to turn the screws. With belly distended I hung on until the end and beat it out of his community via the service entrance, my gastro-intestinal delegation unsure of a proper course of action.

What had I done? A year without gluten, sugar, or caffeine thrown away in a fit of id-driven berry lust? Was this to be the end of the roll?

I tossed my office like Homeland Security and found my sponsor’s number. On the card it read, CORE 5:30 P:M. I rolled up my mats and jumped in the van. I needed a meeting.

For 75 minutes I flexed the valve in every direction, squeezing and stretching my guts while the buttery steam released from my pores.

Oh Great Magnet forgive me!

Juancho

It seems like I haven’t slept well since sometime in the mid-eighties, when life lay before me like an unread book. Last night I got an un-tormented 7 hours and I feel like I could walk to Mars. This is going to be a fun weekend in Tallahassee, but I answer to a higher calling and Birmingham awaits. By 1:00 P:M CST I will be grinding up the jeep road at Oak Mountain. The rest of the weekend I will be where I am supposed to be.

I hear that we quit sleeping well as we age because we know time is short. I hope that is not the case. I often say that with one good night’s sleep you can change the world.

-Juancho

I got down with the Fire Flow II yoga class last night. It differs from Fire Flow I in that it seeks to punish any muscles FF1 missed I guess. I needed it though. I had to rinse the world out of my body and mind. Nothing but the ecstasy of suffering remains when it is 102 degrees and you are bent at the waist and standing on the palms of your own hands. When I left a bunch of kids were lining up with skimboards to surf across the slimy lake I left on the floor. I hope they got their shots.

I am going to tell y’all a story in a few weeks’ time that is going to blow your minds. I mention it now as a literary device known as foreshadowing, although my lazy application of the technique qualifies it more as a “heads up.” You will likely forget between now and the time of the telling, but when I tell it you will say, “That’s right! He told us he was going to tell us!”

It might not even be that great a story in your opinion, but I think it is a pretty good one- especially from where I am sitting.

Oak Mountain, AL is on the horizon for me this weekend. There is no better trail to become familiar with any weaknesses in your fitness or technique. Either I am going to ride the shit out of that trail, or it is going to ride the shit out of me.

More ecstatic suffering either way

Juancho

Dig it, Elton John shaved his head and came to my conference last week. He’s so cool. No, that is me of course, doing my level best to impersonate a neo-conservative and hopefully failing. Somebody should have straightened my tie and helped a brother out. I post this not from vanity or to invite dissection of the image, but as a prelude to a brief meditation on sacrifice and pain. My feet hurt terribly in this picture and yet I smile.

I am convalescing at momma’s house this weekend after working 72 hours last week dressed like someone I would personally avoid on the street. I signed on for a 2.5 hour “Detox Yoga” session this morning that was a lot like any other yoga session except with more enhanced interrogation postures and it was 150 minutes long. It did the trick though, since I followed it with a nap of equal length. I almost have the strength to return to Tallahassee.

I woke to the alarm at 6:00 A:M this morning to register myself and Tommy for the Tour de Felasco. The site was not working and I went back to sleep after sending a colorful email to the organizer. I slept deeply, free of the burden yet noble in my intention. What could I do? I tried.

After dozing another hour I woke again to find a kind reply with instructions for registering and moments later the act was accomplished. January 14 at 8:30 A:M we will be in this grey and barren field, surrounded by white people in lycra driving SUV’s and rubbing lanolin into their ass cracks.

Why?

It will be too early, too cold, too far, too regulated, too crowded, and too expensive. These are generally acknowledged as facts. Still, it will be done.

I really like $50 t-shirts.

Sound off if you are in!

Juancho