The Residual Sugar

The rains have come and I've been driven back to the barn to clock my miles spinning on a trainer as sheets of rain blow by the barn door.  It's been two weeks since Carin left us. It still hurts. Last Saturday was her memorial at the Silverton High School. It was a singular testament to what a remarkable woman she was that the 700 seat auditorium was filled nearly to capacity. Family spoke. Carin's sister created a movie that was alternately hilarious and heartbreaking. She is a talented filmmaker and she had a lot of material to work with. It occurs to me that video is as common an artifact of this generation's lives as printed photos were to mine. The event was described as a celebration of Carin's life and indeed it was. There was nothing black about her and everything we saw and heard described a person who was always moving, always alive. But there are things that need to happen at these events, no matter what you call them, or how they appear. There are

This is Carin Norris, my brother-in-law's niece, a sophomore at Oregon State, a triathlete. Carin's life came to an end this Saturday morning when she collided with a vehicle during a training ride. I want to blame someone or something. That wouldn't make this any easier to accept, but at least it would provide some reason for this happening. The truth, as best we know a few days after the event, is that it was an accident. Nobody was to blame. She was traveling downhill on a twisty road. The police report said she lost control of her bike and drifted to the opposite lane where she was struck. That may have meant the bike went out from under her on a corner and she slid into the lane. She may have come in to a corner too hot and drifted out of her lane trying to keep upright. She was riding a dedicated time trial bike she'd only owned for a few months. These bikes are great at going fast in a straight line but they corner like 18-wheelers.  Maybe she was having a