observations at 3 years

It's 53 degrees and pouring. I'm in the truck, a chocolate chip cookie in my hand. Less of a sweets habit lately but I'm off the clock today- three years since Eileen died. Chocolate melts on my fingers as I cradle the intact cookie. Heavy sigh- I didn't drive all this way to huddle in the truck and eat. I came to ride, to mark time, to unplug and take stock. Old Keith would easily bail on the ride. This Keith bagged the cookie, licked his fingers and opened the door against a stiff wind- a quick dose of fuck you this might be hard.

This dumb drought makes me stupid- I failed to account for the weather. I found a jacket stashed in the truck and hit the trail. Fatbike today; a ridiculous clownshoe-wearing parade. I only passed a handful of folks but each offered a witty comment and a smile. It's hard to fly my usual flag of surliness while essentially riding a balloon sculpture. It broke me, lightened me up.

The forecast was precise- 50% chance of rain: I was rained upon half the time. Truthfully the rain was fine after I warmed up on the first climb. The headwinds on the otherhand...

I'm climbing. Why are you the one who had to go...why did either of us? It will forever make no sense. No sense. Nonsense. Bullshit. Fuck. And how can I smile at the same time that I miss you so much? It's what you hoped for, a dictate from a dying wife; to be ok.

I am ok. I'm telling you I'm ok. (I'm not always ok). I try.

I felt good. Centered. Comparing my headspace with previous years. Energized by my current (perception of) mental health after the rougher periods. I'm marginally more fit, owing to the residual benefits of half-marathon training and my amped up hiking mileage. Some days up to ten miles with Red. Hiking goes with thinking, thinking morphs towards meditation. The noise and then the blanking. Miles clock in without fanfare. I get back home feeling clearer. My phone shows later what it's silently logged. I check it at insomnia o'clock.

I rode to Drake's Head comfortably swimming in sweat and rain and thoughts of Eileen. I hunkered down against the wind and gazed at the sea. A couple sunbeams broke through but it was mostly gray. Gloriously gray, really. Life needs contrasts. Good to have fodder from which to appreciate the sun.

Some days I feel further from Eileen than others but today I was extra close. I thought through some stuffs, thankful for what she gave me...the toolset to continue without her. I say it always, but she's everywhere and it's the warmest feeling. She's singularly with me, within me, when I'm riding alone. As it happens; I often ride alone.

Still 53 degrees. 53. The same number on the chest of 8th grade Keith, a 16 husky squeezed into a 14 regular. The one who drops the ball. The one who dropped the ball with Susan. I made a mess of things, took the easier route and deferred the hardest work. I missed the signs, failed to check. Months have passed and it's still tough and unsettled, a heartache perched on a heartache. This one is my fault. A hard admission. Embarrassed. Frustrated. Every kind of regret. This emotional soup has a lot of ingredients. Our healing relationship was extraordinary, beautiful and so worthy of more than I could give back. When I could, I fumbled. I'm asking Eileen. I'm writing. Aching. Working on things I can work on. Missing so much. Look at the waves out there.

An exhilarating downhill with the wind off the back of Drake's Head, I bounced over the pastureland past the groupings of cows and birds. Navigation was clearer. I recognize the subtlest landmarks of the right route. It's familiar now; this is what I do. I do this. Faster than the last ride here exactly a year ago. I smile.

It's true I'm on an upswing. Maybe it's artificial or exaggerated, contrasted against those jagged years. At times I feel high: there's neighbor babies in my life and I'm an oxytocin fiend. I got bad cards but I have privilege and fortune and luck. I climb a rise without much ado. Thoughts of my people, my lovely people. Lucky fucker: you need to give back. The universe thinks you're alright enough to surround you with love. Give back. I will. I'll try. I smile.

I wore my stress for years...I thought fairly well. Maybe not very well. I drape that heavy coat on my arm now. Carried, but set aside more often. I couldn't see how much I couldn't see. Day to day feels different. I stand straighter, at least in spirit. I want Eileen to be proud of me. I'm lighter now.

Near Sunset Beach I rode the tidal flats, finding a social trail to the beach. Clay caked onto the fatbike's giant tires and I groaned at the unwelcome weight, an illustration of how I'd been. Some scraping with the quill of a found feather was ineffective so I muscled away from the beach. A downpour helped shed some of the new weight, and a downhill opportunity spun the tires clean, pelting my eyes with flying muck. Cleaning feels counterproductive sometimes. Sometimes you get help.

I lingered on the bridge over the estuary to watch the shorebirds cackle and caw. I forgot the bird book again. I wish I could have committed Eileen's shared bird knowledge to my memory. Riding uphill through the old tree farm, the wafting pine scent took me back at once to the U.P., to favorite East Coast trails, to crisp Sierra hikes with Eileen.

A good day. A good ride. I packed up in a piddling rain.

Back in the truck, I smiled and ate that cookie.

Onward.