Nature Deficit Disorder

Deficit:  An excess of liabilities over assets, of losses over profits, or of expenditure over income.

The author, Richard Louv, in an interview on the Today show, was the first that I know of, to pair "nature" and "deficit" with "disorder".   

Nature Deficit Disorder.

We have it and we hate it.

Around here we strive to make one day a week an off road day, and once in a great while we camp out near some groomed single track, on an Elephant accessible campsite. 

(In some towns you can't even go to the beach and be free of traffic.)  

New Smyrna Beach
Sunday after Sugarmill
(Taken hanging out the window of a beachside burger joint.) 

I'm finally on the bandwagon, reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert, in which the author travels to Italy, India, and Indonesia in an attempt to put behind a bad divorce. 

I just started so I'm still on the "eat" portion of the book (Italy).  What is the fascination with tourists in Italy and gelato?  Nobody's immune, it seems.  Not even mountain bikers.

After one loop of Sugarmill, riders rolled around us as we stood at the trailhead saying goodbye to Krafty (no doubt relieved to be heading for a family father's day, poolside.)  

Puffing riders, complaining about the heat, slog their way out.  A couple guys quietly roll by heading for the loop.  After a few minutes, Popeye and I head in after them.

I pass them before the overlook, but decided I just had to wait and ask the owner if I could have a picture of his bike. 

White Trash Cannondale

When a rider names his bike, there's usually a story.

This one had gone off a car at 70 mph, bounced once, and landed in the median.  It was given to it's current owner as a hopeless case.  He went to work fixing it up.  Six months later, finishing it off with a new white paint job, he found it irresistible to add the name. 

Chatting a few minutes led to discovering that the Trashmaster lives in our neck of the pavement, and we exchange our (unprintable) hash names. 

Clipping back in to leave, I ask if it's OK to put the White Trash picture on my blog, BikeEatSleepRepeat.

"I guess Eat, Pray, Love was taken, huh?" 

Ha. Ha.  

But I am too amazed that two grown men even know such a book exists to be offended for long at any implied unoriginality. 

I stop and put my foot back down.  

I owned a copy but so far hadn't been drawn to read it yet.

"It took some searching, but we found her favorite gelato stand when we were in Rome.  Just a hole in the wall, but really good."

OK, so back at home I finally pick up the book.

Like gelato itself, an infinite variety of flavors can be infused into prose.  From the dead weight of melancholy to the simple joy of discovering a dripping, moss-covered fountain, there's a richness to this lean writing.  It's quietly healing; like a good meal or a stroll on a summer evening while spooning gelato.

I look up gelato recipes. 

Nah.  Too much trouble. 

So, on to downloading Sunday's photos.  Suddenly I am yanked away from thoughts of evening strolls and cool desserts.

  New Smyrna Beach

Rows of cars park along a streaming bumper to bumper two lane highway of sand.  

Nature Deficit Disorder as far as the eye can see. 

I imagine these same people a few months from now being the first to complain when tar balls stick to their tires....

... and for some reason, I go back for a second look at those gelato recipes.