Road Krill

Several of my regular rides take me along the South Platte River.  There's a nice multi-use trail that follows the river through the city.  It's a nice trail as such things go.  It's wide enough, smooth and scenic.  There are squirrels, deer, herons, eagles, ducks, geese, cormorants, numerous songbirds and, of course, all sorts of different people.  There are people on bikes - Roadies, Hipsters, Cruisers, people on tandems, recumbents, mountain bikes, hybrids, fitness and even the occasional handcycle.  There are people walking, jogging, pushing strollers, with dogs, children and so on.  Quite a menagerie, actually.  All things considered, it's a wonderful trail system.

Except for the Road Krill.

Yes.  Road Krill.

Road Krill

Road Krill is the name I give to the evil clouds of minute insects - midges, gnats, mayflies and so on - that form along the river at various times during the year.  They swarm over the trail in their thousands and are often invisible until the split second before you ride right through them. 

And they are nasty, nasty little fuckers.

All by themselves they are harmless enough.  They don't seem to bite, or anything.  In some cases they don't even have mouth parts (don't ask me why I know this).  In fact, I think the only reason they swarm at all is for mating purposes.

I'll not begrudge them their right to procreate.  I do wish they'd get a room or something.

What makes a Road Krill Encounter so nasty is that you get covered by the little shits.  They get in your hair, they go up your nose, in your ears and in your mouth.  They'll get behind your glasses and fly around and get in your eyes.  It's a fucking nightmare.  You run though a swarm of these evil, nasty, little bastards and you'll want to stop and tear off your own skin with your bare hands.

Some people try to protect themselves - an effort in futility.  One fellow I see regularly, rides along with a bandanna covering his mouth and nose.  In the winter a balaclava can offer a forlorn sense of protection.  Such measures may offer some protection to the mouth and nose, but does nothing to save the rest of your body and bike from being thoroughly pelted with those ............... insects.  They're going nuts, trapped behind your glasses, unable to escape.  They're in you ears, wings buzzing at unnatural volume.  They're trapped in the hair on your arms, legs and head.  Some of them go down into your jersey.

And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

Sickening.

Most sane people avoid the river altogether.

Our friends, the Velominati, those who abide by The Rules, will quickly and correctly invoke Rule 5:  Harden The Fuck Up.  Forget about the discomfort, the good vs. evil duality and the stomach-churning revulsion.  Put on your Big Boy Pants, grow a pair, put your head down, just ride through and don't be such a fucking pussy about it.

My good friend and sometime cycling partner, Mr. Ected, says it best ...

All you can do is just open your mouth and take in the protein.

Shelly's Mantra

One my wife's best friends, a gal we'll call Shelly, is a cancer survivor.  Cervical cancer.  She's been through 3 rounds of chemotherapy for that.  The therapy beat the crap out of her, but she pulled though and is currently in remission.

Shelly is also a recovering alcoholic.  She's been sober for over 20 years.

She tends to vote Republican.

I tend to overlook that.

I have a lot of respect for Shelly.

When my doctor's constant pressure about my smoking finally got to be too much, I went to Shelly for some advice.  After all, she a pulled through several rounds of chemo AND quit drinking.  Anyone who's been though that in one lifetime is someone to be talking to about smoking cessation.  I asked her if, based on personal experience with breaking the cycle of addiction, did she know of some trick, something I may have overlooked, or simply didn't know when I tried quitting before?  Her answer was both simple and profound.

Whatever you do, no matter what happens, DO NOT have another cigarette.

In my experience the simplest advice is always the best.

DO NOT have another cigarette.

That's pretty simple but it's also very hard.  Resisting the urge to to smoke, to have one more cigarette, is the one thing I was never able to do.  Just the same, I knew that's exactly what I'd have to do if was was ever going to quit.

Shelly was right.

 I decided to begin by evaluating my situation.  I saw my addiction on several fronts.  I was addicted to Nicotine, of course.  I also had a digital fixation - I needed to have something in my hand.  I had an oral fixation, too - something in my mouth.  I was addicted to the sensation of having something other than air drawn into my lungs and exhaled as well.  After some consideration I decided that was the world of my smoking addiction.

Next was how to address that.  Having been though a number of half-hearted attempts and ultimate failures, I felt that to gang-up and kick the shit outta the habit was the way to go.  Take no prisoners.  I decided that the need for Nicotine could be dealt with with patches.  I'd used them before and they do tend to keep nicotine craving under control.  My wife suggested trying one of those so-called "eCigs" to help deal with digital/oral fixation.  Then, a little something to take the stressful edge off: Wellbuterin.  Wellbuterin is a drug used to treat depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder and aid in smoking cessation.  Added to that was a new mantra .....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

I was set.

I won't bore you with endless details about this adventure.  Suffice it to say that after two years I have remained smoke-free.  I've laid all the tools, the patches, the eCigs, the Welbuterin aside as well.  I don't need them.  The one thing I still carry is Shelly's mantra .....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

After a good meal when a smoke would be perfect ....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

When I pass a group of smokers and something tells me that they'd happily bum me a smoke ....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

When I get stressed out with work ...

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

After sex .... ;-)

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

DO NOT have another cigarette.

Quitting smoking isn't easy.  Having friends like Shelly who have been down that road can be a real blessing.

Listen to what they say..

It's Not A Death Sentence

If you want to be sad, no one in the world can make you happy. But if you make up your mind to be happy, no one and nothing on earth can take that happiness from you.

~Paramahansa Yogananda

One of the things you learn when you have cancer is that there are a lot of well-meaning people - beautiful people - who step up and offer their support.  More often than not, that's moral support.

We'll be here if you need us.

If there's anything you need, let us us know.

That sort of thing.

I'm not trying to trivialize.  What these people offer, oftentimes the only thing they that they can offer, is really important.  It's surprisingly comforting to know you have people "in your corner", so to speak.  You find out pretty quickly who actually gives a shit and who doesn't.  You may not ever have to call on them and in any event, there may be nothing they can do, but you do come to consider these people your friends.  They want to make you happy.

We'll be here.........

I had a couple rather touching examples at my office.

Two of the first people I told about the cancer was my boss, Wayne, and his administrative assistant Tammy.  A couple days later I got an email from the senior partners' administrative assistant, Darlene.

Barry and Carol are so sorry to hear about your cancer and wanted me to let you know that if there's any thing the partners can do to help, don't hesitate to ask.  Please keep us posted.

I thought that was very nice.  I was touched.  I was also moderately curious about how Barry and Carol found out about the cancer in the first place, but Ma Clover didn't raise ingrates.  Better to acknowledge the kindness and forget about the source.  So I wrote back saying how deeply I touched I was by the message and thank you very much.  A month before I would have been a little outraged at the intrusion, but today I was thankful for the understanding and compassion being demonstrated.  I was a little curious about how  they found out about it but didn't inquire. As it turned out it was Tammy who spilled the beans.  I couldn't be mad at her, either.  It all came down to people being compassionate.  You can't get pissed about that.

Sometime later I was walking past Wayne's office and he called me in to catch up on how things were going.  I talked about still feeling OK and what a pain all the doctors were and how I'd be better served in Iceland and all about all the crap I was going through.  Wayne took this in with a great deal of understanding.  His wife was in remission from Lymphoma at the time and he and his family had been through the wringer.  Without having actually had cancer himself, he knew exactly what I was going through.  As I was leaving his office he added this:

My wife and I were talking about your situation the other day and she asked me to pass along something.  She asked me to tell you that it's not a death sentence.

.....it's not a death sentence.

I'd already had my fill of people telling me how sorry they were about my having cancer, the looks of sheer horror, the pity.  Finally, someone, a fellow survivor, was giving me something I could work with.  It was like a breath of fresh air.  I had a new mantra.  I decided that this ...... thing ...... that afflicted me would never get the better of me.  I would live life, what life was left to me, happily and fully.  I had a disease, yes.  It might not be curable, yes.  Life in the future could and probably would be a real bitch at times, yes.  So what?

.....it's not a death sentence.

In our society, we're conditioned to think that a cancer diagnosis is the end of the road.  We think that a doctor telling us we have cancer is the same as saying us we're a dead man.  It's all over.  The end of the road.  The last hurrah.  Time to piss on the fire and call in the dogs.

But it's not.  It's none of that.  Yes, in a existential way of thinking, we're all dead.  None of us are getting out of here alive.  That much is certain.  However a doctor telling us we have cancer doesn't mean we're dead ....... yet.  For many of us, surviving cancer means the belief that there is a lot of life left to live and that we will go on living (not just staying alive) ........ until we die.  Maybe all cancer survivors feel way. 

Everyone should live that way.

.....it's not a death sentence.