Just a short note. As I hoped, I rode a horse, I had my first mountain bike ride, I summited an 11,000 foot peak solo with a screaming broken toe.
It rained, snowed, hailed, was foggy, windy, sunny.
While hiking Friday, September 29, I saw a mountain bluebird. I thought of Kip’s brother Gary, who died in 2010. The bluebird is his spirit animal. But this mountain bluebird was his son, Dustin, making an appearance for me on the last day of his life. On Saturday morning, we got the call. He died of an overdose, leaving a 3 year old daughter. He was just 36, and the gentlest soul I ever met.
I am making some changes. I have my own compulsions, but I am finally drinking less. Only way I could make the break was to have no wine in the house. One glass becomes two, then three, every single time. Now I am drinking one beer a night. Seven drinks a week is not nothing, but it’s better than fourteen or so. Dusty’s death gave me the shove I needed to act. Enough.
I keep playing soccer on that broken toe. I scored two goals last weekend in spite of that. And I wore my hot pink jersey the rest of the day, like a seven year old.
Do what you love. Love what you do. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.