Normalcy

It has been some time since things have been as I thought they should be.

In July of 2005, BeanSS and I learned that our dog Kona had cancer of the lymphatic system. We got her into chemotherapy immediately, she rallied, and she's still with us today, fat and happy (emphasis on the fat). The relative sense of security brought about by having fought successfully for Kona's survival, however, was shattered this past July. That's when our other dog, Barnaby, injured his spine so severely that, after four nightmarish days, we had to say goodbye to him. And unlike with Kona, we never really had a chance to fight back.

The loss of our four year old Son blew a hole in my and BeanSS's life so wide and deep that we lost touch with almost everything. I missed work because, as it turns out, incessant crying is bad for productivity. We went camping the week after he died but came home feeling nothing of the rejuvenation that a few days at a mountain lake should bring; either we couldn't escape the grief of what had happened or we couldn't find the healing we were looking for. Soon thereafter, the monsoon season arrived in earnest and brought so much rain to the Old Pueblo that the desert exploded with life. Flowers bloomed, rivers ran, and departing storm clouds made the sunsets blaze orange and purple. Still, despite the aesthetic wonder of it all, our hearts remained broken.

It was weeks before I felt like riding a bike and even then, it was only for the utilitarian purpose of getting back and forth to work. Hiking was only somewhat enjoyable because all I could do was imagine Barnaby running ahead of us and, true to his Border Collie and German Shepherd Dog ways, looping back to ensure his parents and sister were keeping up. We went to the pound and looked at dogs, thinking perhaps that it was time to bring another one into our life. Merle was an Australian Shepherd mix with maybe a passing resemblance to Barnaby. Adoption didn't yet feel like the right thing to do and since that time, Kona managed to tear some tendons in her leg. No matter our emotional state of readiness, we can't have some young buck wrestling with and reinjuring her.

Now, a week short of two months since we lost Barnaby, things have come back to about as normal as I think they're going to be for a while. Kona's leg is healing up slowly and BeanSS, keeping both an open mind and open heart, even looked at a couple more dogs (sorry we didn't take you home, Tucker and/or Leon). I've returned to cycling beyond simple commuting and, in a dual-purpose attempt to make up for the mileage base lost to sadness and to begin preparation for the next 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo, I've managed a few, fairly intense road rides. Or maybe they only felt intense because I've lost so much strength. Who cares? No miles are bad miles. And lastly, I tend to lift weights around sunset, the time of day where we most remember Barnaby. A few weeks back, despite not having to ensure my Son wasn't standing under the plates or trying to jump on my lap, I managed a new personal best bench press. If I can't manage to be strong emotionally just yet, well, at least I can work on the physical side of things.

At any rate, wherever it is that BeanSS and I need to go, I imagine we'll be getting there soon enough.