I was out at the mine on Tuesday. Went much better than I expected, despite having to do some minor damage control for mistakes that were not my own.

Driving back into town, the Pathfinder died about 25 km outside of city limits. In the middle of nowhere. On a highway famous for its missing women. Several hours and panic attacks later, I was in the office with my bicycle parked in the office garage, watching the 'severe thunderstorm' that was forecast.

I rode into work this morning, and it's so interesting how the city changes when you're on a bike. Different things matter. You notice the river swirling high on its banks, you notice teh slight grades on the roads. I cycle commuted for years in Vancouver, and doing it in this city made me feel at home and free and more powerful than I have in a long time. The connectedness to other cyclists - a little community of rebels in this blue collar town - always a smile and a wave, a wink of knowing that life is better on two wheels.

As I coasted to the shoulder of Highway 16, panic obliterating every other sensation in my body, I would have never guessed that it would be a breaking point, that it would force me to take back a little bit of myself and reclaim my soul, my heart, the essense of who I am.

We are headed down to the lower mainland tonight. Wedding in Squamish on Saturday. Hopefully meet up with some other friends and spend some time in the rainforests, raining or not.

I think that things are going to be better from now on.