Tuesday, August 5, 2008

i have the hand/eye co-ordination of a toddler on crack

it is evidence based best practice that stress relief is most effectively achieved by engaging in physically strenuous activities-- trying to be the first down the jetbridge when the pilot turns the 'fasten seat belt' sign off does not count. the utter god awfulness of last week earned a big, tarnished gold star, and a subsequent effort at reparation by: "engaging some positive coping strategies". the treatment protocol was determined to be; a long (and slow) mountain bike ride-- get back to nature, and see some non-rattling, non-poisonous, non-bitey wildlife; remain upright and vertical on the trail (as opposed to grabbing at bits of bush/twig/piles of horse manure to stop me + bike from sliding all the way down the drops); avoid faceplanting into super barky oak trees (and anything involving 'leaves of three'); burn off the "brookie" (brownie and chocolate chip cookie) a la mode; discharge all of the pent up physical aggression that i really, really wanted to inflict on police officers, credit card fraudsters, assorted colleagues, voice messaging systems, and customer service people who finally did answer my call, but didn't sound like it was all that important to them.

perhaps waverly park- or the 'trail of ten thousand elevations' (most of which seemed to disappear into cumulonimbus) was not the most prudent choice for; nerves, ego, or someone with the current frustration tolerance of a 5 year old having to sit through an entire catholic mass. instead of reclaiming control of at least one thing from the week, there was a cosmic scratch that kept this particular track on skip, as evidenced by minimal control (less than usual at any rate) over the bike, which probably had more to do with the discovery of loose rear brakes, on a steep and switchbacky downhill (despite the trail's overall topographical emphasis on ascending); non-compliance from both the respiratory and circulatory systems respectively; the sensation that a sewing machine had been strapped onto my camelbak; strange ticking noises coming from the mechanics and wilderness. the overwhelming frustration and complete lack of control was ultimately the neutralizing agent that finally popped the preceeding week's inflamed "stress pimple"-- and rather like a fresh tube of toothpaste, erupted into some moderate ocular leakage, with a side of mucous. fortunately there were no wasp stings to the neck as there had been during last weekend's foray into my own personal REI commercial.

the apres bike ride shower involved a rigourous skin check for: rorschach-looking haematoma, volcanic insect bites, and seeping rashes, in addition to the characteristic sunburn blisters and spandex chafe.

grafting and mining my skin's surface is truly the most effective of therapies.


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mansuetude said...

There is something wonderful, and not quite brought to the surface in this phrase--

"there was a cosmic scratch that kept this particular track on skip, as evidenced by minimal control (less than usual at any rate) over the bike"

it brings to mind an old record player and the diamond needle and the bike pedals revolving around and around in the gears of time--endless scratch. (but a rhythm and music, a happiness: maybe in you and your writing) (?) There is so much wonderful writing going on--you move so fast. I think you quicken my sloggy brain. :)

Disa said...

"hypomanic", i believe, is a fairly accurate assessment of where my brain is at the moment ;)