Sheepdog quite possibly killed a rabbit. Or maybe he did not. He could just be hopping around totally unharmed. We will never know.
This is what I do know…
For a decade Sheepdog has been working in Buckhead, which is the uptown district of Atlanta. It is about 25 miles (approximately 3.17 hours in ATL real traffic time) from our house. For at least a couple of years now Sheepdog has been taking public transportation to work. This means that he wakes up during the 5 o’clock (Good Lord, I didn’t even know that was humanly possible) hour, drives his car to the MARTA bus stop at Windward, rides the bus to the northern-most Red Line MARTA train station at North Springs (exit 5C on GA-400N), then takes a train to Buckhead. Finally, he walks the last block or so to his office. It saves us a ton of money in gas and he is often able to work, make phone calls or read/ sleep during his commute. According to Sheepdog this really sucks, especially when gas prices skyrocket and public transportation becomes SRO (standing room only). But he is the ultimate team player, so he endures.
Then sometime around the end of October Sheepdog came home and announced that he wanted to start commuting to work on his bicycle. And no, I’m not joking. My immediate response was that he was certainly NOT riding a bike to work because he would surely make me a widow (with five freaking children!), especially given the fact that drivers despise cyclists around here and often try to nudge them off of the roads. And it’s not just me that does this. Soooooo… End of the Crazy Discussion.
As always is the case when I flex my muscles in the “And That’s Final!” way, the jokester that is my God immediately brought a new person into my life to expose me to a different perspective on things. On Halloween night I walked around our neighborhood shadowing Kid C and her friends. With me were a few of the friends’ parents, some of whom I did not know. At some point during the night I talked to a dad who, as it turns out, does triathlons and is an especially enthusiastic cyclist and thought it was just the best thing ever that Sheepdog was considering a 2-wheeled commute to his office. He proceeded to tell me all of the reasons why throughout the long evening. Awesome.
I then went home and told Sheepdog that he could look into riding his bike to work. As long as I was convinced that it wasn’t a suicide mission, I would consider endorsing his plan.
The word “tenacious” was brought up by my dad during a toast to Sheepdog and I at our wedding all those many years ago. My dad explained that it takes tenacity to have a successful marriage, and I believe that Sheepdog took that sage advice to heart. Moreover, he also applies that same tenacity to other aspects of his life. When Sheepdog gets an idea in his head, he is more often than not tirelessly persistent until that idea comes to fruition. I knew that once he started considering riding to his office, he would figure out a way to make it happen even if I wasn’t totally on board. My dad also said during that same speech at our wedding, “Stacy’s personality is such that it takes a very special man to live with her,” but I forgave him for that because it is kind of true.
So Sheepdog promised that approximately 90% of this commute would take place on “very safe” bike path routes, and after he successfully dispelled my fears that he would be on said bike path routes when it was mostly dark outside (“…and do you know who is on bike path routes at these insane times? Undesirables fleeing from the law, serial killers, sex offenders and vampires, that’s who!”), I agreed with the plan for him to ride his bike to work. But I had some conditions.
1. No intentional riding in the rain.
2. Always be defensive and alert while riding, especially on the 10% of the ride that is not classified as “very safe.”
3. He must text me every day when he gets to work to let me know that he has arrived safely so I can cross “call life insurance company” off my To-Do list (at least on that day).
I will have to say that the arrangement seems to be working out fine. Sheepdog has gotten caught in some sudden and unexpected (Me: “Why didn’t you check the forecast, dummy?”) downpours, but he hasn’t melted yet. He says he is very careful, yet he insists on listening to his iPod while riding, which I am less than thrilled about because it means he is not paying attention as fully as I would want him to. But he wears a very bright, flashy light thing and he does text me that he is safe every morning, even though I forget I have a phone and often don’t check my messages until after 10 a.m. or sometimes not at all.
Then one day Sheepdog posted this on Facebook:Rabbit run! Crazy commute this morning. Lots of rabbits on the bike path. Hit one but we are both okay (think he bounced off of the crank). app.strava.com
What the what? A rabbit? Here I am worried about angry drivers crashing into him, or murderers and the undead chasing him in the dark woods, and he gets attacked by Little Bunny Foo-Foo? Then today I saw about eight deer running through our neighborhood around 7:00 a.m. when I was driving some kids to school. And don’t get me started on the darting, schizophrenic squirrel population. They could all easily hit my Sheepdog. It is like Jumanji out there. It just goes to show that you never know what dangers may be lurking, even in the “very safe” sections of the world.
Please be safe, Sheepdog. And please take off the damn headphones. xo
Wish me luck for tomorrow…