Oak Hill Flyer

photo by firda beka

for the past couple of years, i have become a huge fan of hammer nutrition products. i was introduced to HEED at a race in san antonio; i now buy it in bulk containers as needed.

the trick to buying bulk is that the available flavors can be hit-or-miss, and buying bulk is a bit of a committment. the last time i stocked up, jack and adam's had a new, unheard of flavor: subtle berry. its pink label called to me. i took a chance.

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growing up in rural pennsylvania, the available resources for recreational exercise were a far cry from the town lake/barton springs shangri-la that is austin. one's standard for quality is slightly different when you're twelve, however. the one-stop shop for all things social, athletic and caloric those days was the boys and girls club. i would spend 3-6 nights a week there playing dodgeball, wiffleball or whatever other gym sport du jour was offered. Most nights consisted of walking one mile home in the silent cold of winter, soaked gym clothes underneath my hooded parka.

upon arriving home after a full night of exercise, nothing--and i mean nothing--hit the spot better than a tall glass of strawberry milk. my mother worked part-time at the dairy next door to our house, and she would often bring home soon-to-expire goods from the storefront for the family. fortunately for me, strawberry milk never really made their hot sellers list. if you let the milk sit out for a few minutes, it would get to a point where you could slam 20-30 ounces without any brainfreeze. oh the sweet, thick rush of strawberries.

one night i came home from the boys club. nothing out of the ordinary: took off my sneakers, racked my coat and made a beeline to the refrigerator. not a moment after i cracked open a fresh strawberry milk for myself, the normal hum of the weeknight was violently interrupted.

KA-RASH!!! a horrid noise came rattling from the front of the house.

i quickly went back out anad saw a sight never seen before in our living room: headlights. two blinding headlights filled the house with intense light. sparkling glass and dust danced among dramatic shadows cast against our shag brown carpet and wood-paneled television. dad rushed to the front of the house to see for himself.

i stood there and watched as my father learned how a drunk driver barreled through our front yard and main entrance. as he listened to all of the driver's lies. as the cops arrived on the scene. i stood there realizing that no more than 60 seconds prior to the incident i walked through that door, cold and sweat-soaked from an evening at the boys club. it may have been the only instance in my life where i had a strawberry milk in my hands and not have it be the most important thing on my mind.

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this past weekend, i finally conquered an austin staple in the cycling community: loop 360. a far cry from the safeties of my neighborhood roads, it's a beautiful rolling highway with no advertisements and broad shoulders. you're apt to see dozens of riders on any given day slugging away at its long ascents and tucked tight down its exciting decents. the popularity of bikes on this highway brings with it a grim side-effect: accidental deaths. one can't go more than a few miles on 360 without passing a ghost bike memorial: sobering reminders of someone who woke up to take advantage of the morning, only to never see the morning again.

while taking a swig from my bottle, i passed the first of several roadside memorials. the flavor was new, yet so very familiar.

Posted by OHF on 23 July 2008 at 23:38 | Permalink