DUDE, REIN-O!

I woke up hella late this morning.  It was the most rainy mountain morning I’ve experienced in a few months.  As I tuned into the Fox News headz on Sirius, they were talking about a 9/11 memorial at the Pentagon.  I was surprised, because I hadn’t heard about such memorial ever before this morning.  Why today, out of nowhere?

Then the morning show newsman informed me “…as we spend today, 7 years after 9/11.”

Oh yeah.  After all, yesterday I was so happy to be celebrating 10 months with Vanessa, as we laughed about going at it for “double digits”.  I didn’t think about connecting September tenth to September eleventh, until now. I have to admit that I feel ashamed.

I DO remember that day.  I was living in room 21 of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon Fraternity house at 919 Greenbrier Rd.  It was the third week of classes, in my Junior year, and I had an 8:30 chemistry class to go to.  Naturally, I slept in.  When I finally stirred near 9:00, I heard a commotion outside my room.  Then a knock.
“Reiner?!” my brother Obed said.  “What are you doing?  Are you awake?  Its world war three, man.”

I still remember those words.  I called my mother.  “Are you watching TV?  What’s going on?”  I asked.

“I don’t know, Adam, but whoever did is filled with a lot of hate.”  Her voice was comforting but trembling.

I spent the rest of the day at the fraternity house, sad, scared, and confused.  I feel blessed to have had the comforts of my friends and family on that day.

…

As I drove upvalley on this rainy morning, I silently listened to the readings of the names of the victims.  I learned something new this morning, that in addition to all the Americans that perished that day, citizens of 90 countries also died.  During the name readings, every single county was represented by a friend of family member of the victims.  (I had heard Colombia and Hong Kong).

Then I listened to a little bit of President Bush’s speech.  He reinforced his prime responsibility: to prevent another attack on American soil.  Say what you will about his attempts to capture Bin Laden, but he has so far succeeded in keeping us safe.  I give him props for that.

I was also happy to see the two campaignes cease fire for the day.  It is a good thing for the country.  However, it did not stop the pundits from referencing the event.  In the morning, I read an article by Keith Olbermann, and later listened to commentary by Glenn Beck and, separately, Sean Hannity.  Even the metal station on Sirius was paying tribute with classic songs about heroes.

What about you?  Did you remember this morning? If so, good for you.  If not, don’t feel bad.  We are only human, but we can give thanks to others for reminding us never to forget September 11,  2001.

Many of the video and images used to remember this day have been criticized as being too sensitive or controversial.  I have chosen an image that cannot be argued to be anything but positive and a fitting tribute.

After finishing my motorcycle safety training course with the Iron Buffalo this past weekend, I was super stoked to jump in headfirst to the motorcycling culture. The class was very rewarding, and sent the message home that a motorcycle is more efficient than any other vehicle for transporting yourself from one place to another.

After the class ended, I found myself burning time by browsing on craigslist at various bike for sale, then comparing model names to the resources available in Wikipedia. In a days time, I learned how large the market really is for many different types of people.

Constantly glancing at my bank account, I was lowering the price ceiling little by little. Soon I was looking at classic sport bikes like the Ninja 500 and GS500E, There are some great deals out there, but while gaping at a $1000 motorcycle, I was struck with the realization that I had paid just as much for my brand new Transition Multi-sport.

I decided then that I am not going to buy a motorcycle this year. I had taken that training to reach a small goal, and I did. But I still did not feel 100% confident of getting involved in the lifestyle just yet. Every day on a motorcycle means a day not on the road bicycle. I had set an original goal of getting in shape both mentally and physically and getting off the petroleum program by commuting through the crisp mountain air on the bicycle.

I must turn my financial resources to an original priority, that of getting my trusty F-250 in shape for contention in the title of the “Ultimate Off-Road Vehicle.” The secret drawers and platform were a hug success with the girlfriend. Sustainability is the next step, plus a few added comforts like fresh coffee straight out of the cab.

For next year, I think I have my sights focused on a KLR 650.  I’ve been reading about the all-around ability and durabilty of these bikes.  They have spawned a cult of riders with a spark for adventure that I’m all about.  I will be doing a bit more investigation, but I could very well be riding one by next spring.

On a rare saturday in which I am in Denver and my boy Brian has a day off from the retail gig, we decided to head up to Loveland Ski Area and hike a few big mountain lines with convenient access via chairlift.  After a few warm up runs, we headed north from the top of Lift 9 and switched over to the climbing skins. We soon were stopped by a rope. We could see four patrollers and a sled high up on the ridge, so we sat and had a snack while watching the show.

BOOM!! Blast after blast went off, as patrol cut the slope. There was one small surface slide, but otherwise the snowpack was stable. Finally, the guy on the sled came down to us with a thumbs up sign, and opened up the ropes.

We scrambled to the summit and switched over the gear. There were two other skiers who bootpacked up behind us. The first guy on teles dropped in off the cornice and made a few turns, and it looked like excellent powder. I hiked a bit up the ridge with my board and made a very smooth drop directly down the face, making great turns in the snow before traversing over to the “chutes”.

There are about four chutes above Lift 8, and each one has its own difficulty and aethetics. The skiers went down the large middle chute, but Brian dropped in at the end and called me over. It was a narrow, S-curved couloir, and I made about 5 good jump turns before straightening it out and cruising down the apron to the main ski area.

While back on the lift, we discussed what to do next. Because it was a full moon, clear skies, and we had all our backcountry equipment, we thought of hiking out of bounds at the end of the day. After talking to ski patrol, we learned that the best way to leave the area was via a gate at the top of Lift 1.

On the way over to Lift 1, we decided to hit up the terrain park for a run. There was some jib event going on, with tents and music. However, the upper park, containing two “big air” jumps, had only a few people sessioning. We hit both jumps with decent speed, and I felt very confident. When we got to the lift, I turned to my partner and said “lets do it again”. We had watched multiple riders brake check before the jump, and land short on the end of the transition. I knew I could gather a lot of speed and air it out.

The second time around, Brian went first and threw a spread eagle. Then it was my turn. I started from much higher than usual, and I straight lined it directly at the feature without making a turn. As soon as I got airborn I completely lost balance. My head and body leaned over to the left, and my board was no longer under me.

“Ahhhhhh!” I screamed as it hit the ground hard. I don’t recall blacking out, because I kept screaming “My legs! Help! I broke my legs!” I was sliding out of control towards the second jump, but stopped myself and managed to take my board off.

The next moments were a blur. Brian had climbed back up to my position, and I asked him to go back to the landing and grab my goggles, which had flown off my head upon impact.

I don’t know how long it took for ski patrol to show up, but soon I was surrounded by a group of people who were all doing different things and asking me questions.

I knew my name, my partners name, the day of theweek and my location. However, I did not know what month it was, nor did I know what I had just done. However, Ski Patrol took one look at my helmet and said “we’re taking you down.”

Still in a concussion daze, they strapped me to a sled and took me to HQ. There I started hearing witness accounts of what happened.

“He was going fast, man.”
“Forty or fifty feet to the ground!”

Luckily, they managed to pull off two of my jackets without cutting them. When they found the avalanche beacon strapped to my chest, they said “That is strong procedure, man.”

I don’t know if I agreed to take an ambulance or not, but soon I was strapped to a backboard and loaded up. Right before I left, Brian showed me the accident report he filled out. On it was a picture of a stick man with a cloud saying “I’m going big!” and spiraling out of control.

The 50 mile ambulance ride down the hill was painful. My head was strapped so tight to the board and I was in exteme pain. My legs were strapped down, and all I wanted to do was flex my knees to see how they felt. I had most of my mental state together, and I chatted with the EMT while complaining of the uncomfortable conditions.

The ER at St. Anthony’s was the most chaotic scene of all. It must have been a slow week, because all these anxious young interns and nurses were all over me, like a scene out of the TV show “ER”. As soon as I got in, one guy says “Sorry, bro, but we’re cutting off these clothes.” Another one stuck some needles and an IV in my left arm. Soon a woman came and drew blood from my right arm. All throughout the nightmare, I could see people passing my helmet around, and everyone was shocked at the condition and telling me how lucky I was to be alive.

After a trip to the CT scan, and X-rays on my knees, I was left in peace. I listened to the monitor beep, and closed my eyes for a bit.

Soon I heard “Hey buddy,” and woke to see Brian standing over me. “You alive?”

“Yeah,” I said, but my knees hurt.

The nurse came back in and told me that I didn’t have any broken bones, and it was probably a sprained MCL. However, the bloodwork showed that I had a high white-blood cell count.

“Isn’t that good?” I asked, thinking back to the elementary school science classes.
“Well, it is a sign of intense trauma, so we are going to flush you with an IV and take blood again. You’ll be here for a few hours.”
“A few hours?!” I whined.

So for the next two hours I was moved out into the hallway. I patiently watched the IV drip go down slowly, while observing the hospital operations. I was going crazy, texting my girlfriend repeatedly, asking her to come and get me the hell out of there!

Finally I was released at 9 p.m., and I hobbled out to the car with a knee immobilizer on. I have proclaimed my retirement from the terrain park, but I can’t wait to heal up the knee and get back into the backcountry for the Spring Season.

What my skull would have looked like without the helmet.

Welcome to adamlreiner.com!   After screwing around for countless years on Xanga and Myspace, I’ve finally coughed up the ten bucks and registered MY DOMAIN.  I will be doing a lot of blogging and photo posting, but the ultimate purpose of this website is to turn my writing hobby into something more serious.  Thanks to my brother at WEBOSIS for helping me out!  –Adam

Growing up in Illinois, I was never the baseball fanatic that I have become recently.  I remember when I would visit my Grandpa, and I would be bored out of my mind while sitting with him in front of the TV watching the Cubs or the White Sox, waiting for him to fall asleep in his chair so I could change the channel to some cool cartoons.  Football was always my favorite sport to watch, and hockey my favorite to play.  My dad took me to multiple White Sox games during my adolescent years, so naturally I became a fan of the team.  I didn’t go to my first Cubs game until I was 21, so naturally I became a fan of getting drunk at baseball games. 

When the White Sox won the world series in 2005, I was living my first year in Denver.  Convienently, the Sox came to town during interleague play, and I went to all three games.  When they went to the postseason I met up with other Chicago ex-patriats and cheered all the way. 

However, in 2006, I hung up my Sox hat and donned a Colorado Rockies hat.  I figured that I had moved out here to start a new chapter in my life, and that chapter would include supporting a new favorite team.  The difference this time, is that instead of just being a fan of a team, I became an analyst of the entire sport itself, with a favorite team in mind.  I always remembered how my Grandpa would explain that to be a true fan of baseball you had to understand the subtleties and nuances of the sport.  As I started following the Rockies on TV and at Coors Field, I began to analyze the manager strategy, pitching orders, defensive positions, etc.  I even watched the postseason for the very first time even though I wasn’t a fan of any of the teams in it.

This summer, my baseball coming of age has come full circle.  During spring training I was working down in Pueblo.  Instead of sitting bored on many nights in a hotel room, I watched every spring training game live from Arizona.  I picked up some baseball magazines and even posted a few blogs about the Rockies (include a quite vicious attack at the ownership).  I was super-amped for the upcoming season, and when I heard that the Rockies were playing their final preseason game in Colorado Springs, against their AAA Sky Sox, I excitedly jumped in my truck and sped north!  I remember having so much fun at that game, sitting out on the third base line, talking among other fans about the upcoming season, and speculated on the strength of the Rockies roster and also their farm teams.  Although the Rockies actually lost to their minor league affiliate, all the players proved the strength of this organization.

Since that spring training game I have gone to roughly 15 regular season games.  On every Wednesday, some Friday nights and Sunday afternoons, I had hopped on my bicycle and raced through the traffic on Capitol Hill towards Coors field, where friends were usually waiting.  Instead of hanging out and partying, I watched each pitch intensely, watched the bullpen activity, and tried to think like a manager in various situations.  I will testify to this day that I was among the very first people to campaign for Tulowitzki as rookie of the year and Holliday of course as the best player in the national league. 

I remember the season going ho-hum into September, as I enjoyed a win over arch-rival Dodgers in the final game of my Wednseday-night season ticket package.  The Rockies were so far behind in the standings that the playoffs weren’t even a thought in the picture.  Then they went on their final road stretch, winning eleven in a row.  People started talking.  It was if the entire Denver media came alive one day, as everyone looked forward to the Rockies return to Coors field for their final games against Arizona.  Some friends and I picked up tickets to their “homecoming game” that Friday, and it was if Coors Field was an entirely different ballpark, with an epic feel to it.  Unfortunately, the Rockies lost, and I went home and tried to understand the slim factors that would have to take place in order to make the postseason. 

Then, while watching the Bears on Sunday, the stars came into alignmnent:  the Brewers took the final two games from San Diego, and the Rockies beat the D-Backs!  The Padres were flying in for a one-game playoff to determine the wild card!  Naturally, I scored a ticket, and was rewarded with the MOST intense sports spectacle I have ever witnessed live.  No future game would even come close to the feeling of electricity that was running through the Coors Field fans as this game.  The Rockies won it and clinched their spot in the playoffs.

The rest is history:  I happened to also be in the stands for each sweep-winning game against the Phillies and D-Backs (even joining in the “Byrnes-you-suck!” chants in the left field bleachers, something I normally don’t do!), and the Rockies won their first ever National League Championship. 

The lasting image that sums up the entire season was one of ace pitcher Jeff Francis.  As I joined dozens of fans crowd around the left-field flagpole, Francis hoisted up the National League Pennant for the first time in Coors Field to the theme song from Star Wars.  Jeff is only two months older than I am, and the huge smile on his face resonated deep to the fan inside me as he hoisted up a purple broom that someone gave him and led the charge through the stands!!

Unfortunately, during the World Series I will be in Las Vegas, just a little bit away from the Rockies center of the universe.  However, the pennant chase was more than enough for me.  I’ve got other things to focus on, but I will be cheering not only for the Rockies but also for baseball for years to come.

<P>I have a friend who has a drinking problem.&nbsp; When he has too much to drink he gets loud and out of control.&nbsp; He will cuss repeatedly, yell at people, and even insult complete strangers.&nbsp; Back in the fraternity days, this behavior was quite entertaining.&nbsp; However, now that we have grown up, most of us consider it unacceptable.&nbsp; He has even admitted to having this problem, and as more and more of his friends started to abandon him, he vowed to change his ways.&nbsp; However, this past weekend he was back to his old self.&nbsp; Even when our close friend tried to explain to him his problem, he responded with “I don’t give a fuck!”&nbsp; Finally, when the server cut him off, and he responded with some very rude comments, I knew things had gone too far.&nbsp; Soon the bar manager was out talking to him.&nbsp; The manager probably talked for 20 minutes, he did not throw my friend out of the bar, but merely gave him a lecture on respect (especially for women) and behavior.&nbsp; My friend finally listened to the manager, said “I’m sorry” a dozen times, and stopped drinking.&nbsp; However, had my friend first listened to our other friend who tried to tell him the same thing earlier, there would be no need for the manager to come out at all!</P>
<P>I have had my past struggles with substance abuse.&nbsp; I caused many problems for myself and those around me.&nbsp; However, I have overcome my problem long ago.&nbsp; I have no quit drinking completely, but more in moderation.&nbsp; When I was young I had always watched my Dad act in social situations.&nbsp; He would almost always have a beer in hand, but while his buddies were throwing back 3 in a row, he would drink more moderately.&nbsp; By the end of the night my Dad would be calm and cool while those around him were rowdy and intoxicated.&nbsp; These days, I find myself acting the same way.&nbsp; I like to drink beer, but I seriously dislike the feeling of being drunk.&nbsp; This past weekend, I had a cocktail before dinner, followed by a glass of wine, and then a couple of beers through the night.&nbsp; In between drinks I drank glasses of water, coffee, and danced out on the floor empty-handed.&nbsp; By the time my friend was getting lectured by the bar manager, I was completely sober, drinking a glass of water and watching my friend’s actions in disgust.</P>
<P>As we left the bar, the manager said to us “you can judge a person by the friends he keeps.”&nbsp; Because we were all polite, and some of us even apologized to the server on behalf of our friend, he was spared an ejection from the bar.&nbsp; </P>
<P>It did not take much to convince my friend to give me the keys to his car (thankfully).&nbsp; But although I was totally sober, it does not make up for another problem I have: a speeding problem.&nbsp; Whenever I am on the highway, you can find me in the far left lane, moving faster than the cars to my right, and riding up on the tailgate of a car in front of me.&nbsp; In my opinion the left lane on most highways should not have a speed limit, but unfortunately it does.&nbsp; As we were driving back to my friends house on the highway, I was cruising in the left lane when I saw a car start to creep up on my right side.&nbsp; So, naturally, I sped up (there should be no reason for a car in the right lane to be moving faster than the left).&nbsp; He started to creep more and more, and I sped up more.&nbsp; Then he changed lanes and got behind me.&nbsp; He was tailgating me, so I moved even faster.&nbsp; I finally hit 80 mph when my rearview mirror exploded in flashing red and blue!&nbsp; </P>
<P>My inebriated friend in the passenger seat started to freak out.&nbsp; “Are you okay, man?” he kept asking as I pulled over.&nbsp; It was very obvious that the cops were aiming for a DUI sting…but I was totally confident.</P>
<P>The cop walked over and told me I was speeding, checked my license and insurance, asked if I still lived in Colorado (this incident was happening in Illinois) and if I had an up to date insurance card (mine renews every september, and I assumed the new card was waiting in my mailbox back home), and asked whos car I was driving.&nbsp; Finally, he asked me to get out of the car and walk back to his squad car.&nbsp; Both my friends in the car thought they were going to be picking me up in jail, but I wasn’t worried.&nbsp; At first I thought the cop was going to make me blow in a breathalizer, and I wondered if he was prepared for me to tell him that it wasn’t going to happen (not ever, thank you).&nbsp; However, he simply said to me, in a casual manner “I just have to do a test to make sure you are safe to drive”.&nbsp; He moved his pen back and forth and up and down, and I followed with my eyes, and he told me to get back in the car and he would write me a warning for the speeding. I thought for a second about explaining to the cop that I was only speeding because he was creeping on my right, but I figured I was getting off easy so I’d just let it go.</P>
<P>I got back in the car and my friends were shocked. “I can’t believe you’re back in the car!” one said.&nbsp; </P>
<P>”No worries,” I told him,&nbsp; “I know I’m sober, the cop knows I’m sober.&nbsp; I’m a sober friend driving a couple intoxicated friends home.&nbsp; This is how it is supposed to work.”</P>
<P>As a growing Catholic, my favorite of Christ’s teaching is to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”&nbsp; In a more holistic sense, this theory translates to karma.&nbsp; When you bestow good karma upon those around you, you will be rewarded when you need it most.&nbsp; Because I had watched my friend spiral into a drunken mess, I had slowed down my drinking, to stay alert and more responsible.&nbsp; Because I had been polite and calm when my friend insulted the bar staff, he was spared an ejection.&nbsp; Finally, I was rewarded by staying out of jail after a fun night on the town.&nbsp; I only hope my unfortunate friend starts to realize this power and curbs his behavior for the better.</P>