There are two sets of railroad tracks that I navigate on the ride to the gym & back, though I end up crossing them four times because of the way they jog & the way I like to stick to side streets for most of my commute. The first one I navigate in the mornings is the one where I have to be most careful because there’re no bells to ding or big wooden arms that swing down to guard the tracks when a train comes. This crossing functions the old fashioned way, with stop signs, the train’s whistle.
There’s usually not a train until 10AM, but every now & then, lo & behold, there’ll be a train early in the morning – usually with just a few cars – going soutbound to the refineries or the Port of Galveston. Yesterday I saw something I haven’t seen before, a pick up truck riding the rails on some special zip-zoomy kind of train wheels. Thing is, the truck doesn’t whistle. I suppose it could honk, but it didn’t. So it’s a darn good thing I’d had a third cup of coffee. It’s a darn good thing I always give extra attention to looking left, then right, then left again at railroad crossings.
It’s probably also a darn good thing that I’d paused a little longer yesterday, right before the tracks, to admire the sunrise. I even took a photo, because the swoop of one particular cloud across the dawn’s blue-violet was like a line of poetry that stands out, shines bright on the page, begging you to go back & visit it again. When I go up the rise of the little “hill” to the railroad tracks, that’s when I usually get my first/best look at the sun coming up, at what Mother Nature is doing with her watercolors that particular day. I like that my view is bordered with railroad crossing signs to each side, green treetops & the through-lines of telephone wires stretching, stretching, stretching through the daybreak.
Being such a sucker for something as commonplace as a beautiful sunrise & each day’s gift of morning sky-play likely kept me from a dicey situation yesterday. One of either adrenaline-pumping, heart-racing rush to get over the tracks in a hurry, or one of swerving & slamming on the breaks. One thing I know for sure, the dude “driving” that train-truck never look up once when he went by me. I’m betting he never even saw me. He was looking down, probably reading something. Maybe a logbook of some kind. Though my best guess would be his phone. Probably texting. Or checking his Facebook page for Likes.
Oh well, he probably missed this.
Ride Report: 38 Miles. (decided to skip the gym & the swim) ((my shoulders are still sore from the 2-mile swimming extravaganza on Wednesday))
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I still need somebody to do the swim and/or run portion of the triathlon on my relay team for the San Diego Tri Challenge!
And I still need a sponsor – any business or organization – who’ll make a donation and/or help with travel expenses in exchange for my wearing a jersey & flying a flag with your name/brand/logo. Might this be you? Might you know somebody?
This will be my first triathlon since MS came-a-vistin’ to my life. I’m raising funds & awareness for Challenged Athletes Foundation, an organization devoted to making a difference in the lives of folks with illness & disability who need our help to enjoy a more active, independent, wild-&-wonderful life. Like this guy, JJ.
Wanna make a difference? You could pass on my story & donation page: email, Tweet, Facebook post – anything you can think of to spread the word would be an enormous to help to me. And, more importantly, to CAF :0)