A Little of This... A Little of That.

Last week, Paul had to go to D.C. for work for a couple days. Luckily, my parents were willing to watch the Hobbes-it for a couple days, so I got to tag along. On previous visits, I've had the chance to visit all the monuments and memorials. I had one day to spend doing fun things, and settled on the Smithsonian museums. I talked to my friend Jeff, who lives a couple hours away, and we decided to make a day of it.

Paul and I stayed near the Pentagon, and ended up with a room overlooking the heart of D.C. I love it there... it always reminds me of Paris. We went to dinner after the long haul in from BWI, then went back to our room. My plan for the next day was to hop on a city bike and cross the river, at which point I would be able to stay on bike trails and cruise along at my leisure.

I walked to the nearest bike kiosk, rented my bike, and hopped on with GoogleMaps on board for directions. It routed me beneath the interstate overpass, which took me directly into the Pentagon parking lot... which is weird. Why isn't it secure??? Here's where it turns into a ridiculous Jessie trip story...

Google kept telling me to continue onto a road on which only authorized vehicles were allowed. So I kept riding in circles in the parking lot of the Pentagon, on my little city bike, with an earbud in my ear. Every single time I would pass the road, the silly Google lady would yell at me... I started to feel like I might look a bit... suspicious... And I was running late.

Cue phone call to give Paul a heads-up about my plan change. Bike back to nearest bike kiosk to get rid of the bike. Walk to nearest cab que. Catch awesome-crazy-fun cabby who dropped the F-bomb at the assholes who wouldn't let me merge, and got me through traffic in record time to the front door of the Natural History museum.

Jeff and I tromped around, ate lunch in the resident restaurant of the Native American History museum, then headed over to the Air and Space museum. Paul's day ended up being pretty short, so he met us there, and we wandered around, and played in a simulator that goes a full 180 degrees... I got three kills :D

We hopped city bikes and rode through central D.C. during rush hour... quite epic. We took the Metro (what I should've done in the morning...) and a bus out to Georgetown to go to the eponymous cupcake store, caught the train back out to the Pentagon with Jeff, and parted ways there. Later that night, we found a nearby Dogfish Head brewpub, and grabbed some brews.

Luckily, Paul's schedule allowed him to have the morning off before we headed home, so we headed back over to Georgetown to sightsee and tourist it up. Then we headed back home, and Paul ran a Christmas 5K the next morning.

A few days after we got back, I went to therapy for what will be my last time doing any real work there before my doctor's appointment. I asked my therapist what she thinks about my situation, and if she thinks I can run. She thinks I can.

Which is good. After I see the doctor and he tells me what he thinks about the lingering pain and what our plan of action is, I need to make a decision about a very special email I received...

I qualified for age group nationals! It was a more long term goal... maybe next year or the year after. So... we'll see.

Stillness.

I'm an addict. I love progress, the sense of moving ahead, being more/better/greater/stronger than yesterday. I haven't felt that in a while...

But I'm making progress. Over the past few days, I can tell - I'm getting better. Yesterday, I did a full battery at therapy for the first time since I started going. I learned a little extra about my biomechanics, and what my legs are doing when I'm on the umpteenth mile of a training run. And those little problems, those things that don't go quite right? They're fixable. Repairable. Even better, those small changes will undoubtedly improve my cycling ability. And in dealing with my weaknesses, I'm reminded: Everything is connected.

Whether it's my tendons and joints or my life sequence, it is connected.

I was brought to this place for a reason, and not just to experience the dark instead of the light. I was brought here, to this moment, to recognize faith. Faith in things I don't see. Faith that even though I'm being still, physically and mentally, even though I don't feel the movement, I'm still hurtling through the black chasm that is space. I have no point of reference in the dark, but I'm shifting forward all the same. I'm in the dark that when I'm once again in the light, I might once again appreciate the sense of motion I feel, and the way that fuels my emotion.

I love the things I do. Sometimes I let my driven, goal-oriented, type-A personality get in the way of the sheer enjoyment of training and going for a run, hopping on the bike, or swimming. Maybe I even allow myself to end up in a rut where the only things that matter are the numbers... I should want to go fast mostly because it's fun and feels good. There's nothing wrong with wanting to do well, but that has to strike a balance with just having fun. I'm reminded of a book we have for Hobbes, called Mike and the Bike...

"But most of all they're just riding and having fun."

I was brought here, into these dark moments, to let my character continue to form. In the dark stillness, my mind and heart lie fallow, ready to be sown. And how they've been sown, and what fruit will they produce when the time comes for me to pursue what I've found in these moments. I was brought here to look forward, to think of more than today, more than negative splits and lap times. I found myself here to find myself in the future. I time traveled in the dark. And I like what I see.

Now, I see these moments of stillness are temporary. The anticipation to return to the full speed pace of my journey is palpable. But for now, I will wait. I will wait in this stillness, resting for the road ahead, pondering not only why I am here, but charting my course ahead in the dim light that I suddenly see drawing nearer as the tunnel begins to open.

But today... for just today... my quads are sore. And it is glorious.