Bunny, forgive me for taking your post to put in here. I was going to try to write about the event that brought you back home for a while to get medical treatment, but somehow, I had a really hard time wanting to write about it. I think I will be able to do it later, when a little more time has gone by. Till then I will let you tell your own story as you have done here. I love you bunny. mom(the photo her is one of the family who helped Jed on this day)
Why do moths fly into the campfire?
Saturday at 10:55pm
Anyone who's sat around a campfire in the summer for any amount of time has undoubtedly seen moths dive bomb into the fire. Why do people do the same? You know the outcome of the moth when it comes close to the fire. You are viewing this from an outside perspective. As oil flow into the gulf is that not a huge fire that the whole of society is flying into? Something that will undoubtedly burn us all in the end. The climber that dies on the side of a mountain unable to see their deteriorating state. Surely, if they could truely see what was happening they would turn back. Last Thursday I left Bazine, Ks. heading for Ness City and beyond for the day. I knew the day before something was wrong with my ankle, but as with all the other pains on this trip I say it's ok. By mile 3 on Thursday I knew that this wasn't going to be a good day. By mile 9, I was on the verge of crying. Partly from pain and partly because I knew that this type of injury had the potential to stop me. By the time I made it 12 miles to Ness City I was done for the day. I went to the city park to camp for the night and ran across a family biking across the country. I made it down the stairs at the park and sat down on a picnic table beside them. They asked me if I was ok. I was barely able to walk down the stairs and I'm sure that the pain was written all over my face. I told them that I was Ok. This is what I've always told people. They offered to the next town that had things that could help me take better care of myself. I at first turned them down, but in the morning I knew my ankles wouldn't get me there. It was apparent even to me. My ankles had taken me from doing 30 miles daily to barely being able to walk down stairs. Fast forward to today. My ankles really haven't gotten better. It still feels like someone is stabbing my left ankle with a knife. Today I looked into buying a bike that I could finish this trail in. Not the way I want to finish in, but the way I think that my body will allow me to finish it in. A 2,000 mile down payment on a dream to have it repossessed by bad ankles. There are no regrets though. I can see what the family at the park saw. A good man with a broken body.
Anyone who's sat around a campfire in the summer for any amount of time has undoubtedly seen moths dive bomb into the fire. Why do people do the same? You know the outcome of the moth when it comes close to the fire. You are viewing this from an outside perspective. As oil flow into the gulf is that not a huge fire that the whole of society is flying into? Something that will undoubtedly burn us all in the end. The climber that dies on the side of a mountain unable to see their deteriorating state. Surely, if they could truely see what was happening they would turn back. Last Thursday I left Bazine, Ks. heading for Ness City and beyond for the day. I knew the day before something was wrong with my ankle, but as with all the other pains on this trip I say it's ok. By mile 3 on Thursday I knew that this wasn't going to be a good day. By mile 9, I was on the verge of crying. Partly from pain and partly because I knew that this type of injury had the potential to stop me. By the time I made it 12 miles to Ness City I was done for the day. I went to the city park to camp for the night and ran across a family biking across the country. I made it down the stairs at the park and sat down on a picnic table beside them. They asked me if I was ok. I was barely able to walk down the stairs and I'm sure that the pain was written all over my face. I told them that I was Ok. This is what I've always told people. They offered to the next town that had things that could help me take better care of myself. I at first turned them down, but in the morning I knew my ankles wouldn't get me there. It was apparent even to me. My ankles had taken me from doing 30 miles daily to barely being able to walk down stairs. Fast forward to today. My ankles really haven't gotten better. It still feels like someone is stabbing my left ankle with a knife. Today I looked into buying a bike that I could finish this trail in. Not the way I want to finish in, but the way I think that my body will allow me to finish it in. A 2,000 mile down payment on a dream to have it repossessed by bad ankles. There are no regrets though. I can see what the family at the park saw. A good man with a broken body.
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