Recycling

Spring has hunkered down in grand fashion here in Upstate NY. We've been blessed with mild temps, only a few sprinkles, and breezes that won't knock over a bladed tri bike. Just about every ride has been outside for the last month; and the trainer butt sores have all but healed. I feel so damned happy to be outside riding my bike, pushing some big watts (for me), and having the sun warm my back. Then some SUV-- usually a monstrous Escalade or Navigator-- goes whooshing by me around 60 mph, it's side view mirror millimeters from my head. I ended last season with a healthy dose of fear for road riding. Local and national stories of cyclists vs. cars seemed so numerous and suddenly became personal. I fled to the trails with my mountain bike while my skinny-tired darlings gathered cobwebs in the garage.

This season I thought I'd try to get a new perspective on my lingering fear of death by a vehicle while on 2 wheels: Recycling. That's right...recycling in the form of organ donation. I figure if my brains are splattered within my pretty red helmet and the rest of me is okay I'd be very happy and proud to have someone reuse my healthy organs. With all this training my heart likely has very little or no coronary artery disease and a rocking stroke volume to boot. My kidneys are in great shape because I'm a hydration Nazi and don't take NSAID's. My liver has more than recovered from my college drinking days. Lastly, my cigarette-free lungs: I'd love for some person which cystic fibrosis to breathe easy with them.

I know it all sounds macabre (I think about death alot with my job), but I think it comforts me to know that all this training wouldn't go to waste, that all those swims, rides, and runs could help more than just me PR at some race.

I once saw a documentary about a village in the Himalayas where the people take their dead to a sacred place on a mountainside, have a memorial service, then the village "undertaker" takes the dead person, cuts them into portions for large vultures to take away. To the Western sensibility, it's gross and barbaric--but to me it's clean and practical. I like the idea of being taken away into the mountains by large birds when I die--it would be my one chance to really fly. I've floated this idea to my family and friends. They think the organ donation thing's the better way to go.