Last night I fell asleep somewhere around 3-3:30AM, knowing full-well that I had to be up in 2-2 1/2 hours to go on a motorcycle ride with my friend Tom.
So, at 6AM, off went my alarm. I promptly silenced it.
And then I heard a horn honk out in my driveway. I thought to myself, "Damn. Tom did show up."
I jumped out of bed, threw on my robe and ran downstairs to let him know that I would be jumping in the shower and getting ready real quick. He just told me to meet him at Coffee Society when I was through.
So after shaving/shitting/showering, I gear myself up and jump on the bike. Off to Coffee I go. As I pull up, he sees me and starts walking to his bike to get ready to go.
I inform him that I have a short amount of time, due to the fact that my second chemotherapy treatment is at 9:15AM, and I have to be at my dad's house before that so I can pick him up and take him with me. Tom sort of looked off into the distance for a moment, and replied with "Ok!"
And off we went at approximately 6:40AM.
85 south to 17 south, exit Bear Creek Road, make a left onto Black Rd. (Black Mountain Rd.?), take that all the way to the southern tip of Skyline Rd., at which point we kick things up a notch and haul ass to Four Corners, the Highway 9/Skyline Road intersection.
When we stopped at Four Corners, we checked the time and realized that it was only 7AM!
Damn!
So off down the backside we went. As soon as I turned onto that road, I felt it calling to me, felt the beauty of the turn, the lure of the motorcycle zen.
I punched it.
I didn't ride so hard as to push my previously explored limits, but I definitely rode at a spirited pace.
And for the first time since I've ridden, I left Tom behind. Normally, there's a small sense of victory when one encounters a situation like that, as it confirms your level of riding experience and ability, but it made me feel empty inside to gain a lead on Tom like that.
See, the thing is, Tom pretty much taught me how to ride in the hills. He's my mentor, my teacher.
When I got to the bottom of 9, I sat and waited for him .. if I had a cigarette, I would have been able to finish it, most likely. He came hauling ass around the turn, flew past me at high-speed, but he saw me and slowed down. He turned around and pulled up next to me, and after exchangings "Sups," the first words out of his mouth were "You've gotten a LOT faster."
I can't really explain why it makes me feel so strange to know that I am now a faster rider than Tom. Perhaps the best way to illustrate it is as such: due to Tom being my primary mentor as far as riding in the hills, I always aspired to be at his level of speed, smoothness and consistency in turns.
And now that I've surpassed his level, at least his level on his bike right now, it just makes me feel .. well, like I said before. Empty.
I do know, however, that I am nowhere near the rider that he is, in general. I have only surpassed him in speed. He is a more confident, stable, versatile and experienced rider than I will ever be. Period.
So .. after that, I ran home, got my car and picked my dad up. It was time for round 2 of my chemotherapy.
Pretty uneventful, actually. I'll skip over the description of sitting there for 3 hours and letting them inject me with toxins.
As soon as I got home, I started to feel strange. I still do. It's like my body is telling me that it's filled with poisons right now, that it's battling toxins. I'm incredibly tired, and mentally dead.
I'm suffering from "chemo-brain," I think.
Ugh.
They said I can expect hair loss within 3 weeks. Yay. I've already noticed that my hair is thinning.
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