Let the Black Reaper Rise...

“He became so good at fighting, that even before he obtained his Contractor power, he became known as "The Black Reaper".” Darker than Black Wikia

“Hei's other life is of a Contractor called BK-201 and also the Black Reaper, mostly by other Contractors. Before becoming a contractor Hei was an assassin which earned him his nickname. Hei is usually seen in a mask, that usually breaks, and a dark cloak that is bullet proof.” http://www.absoluteanime.com/darker_than_black/hei.htm

“Operating as an assassin and stealth operative for the syndicate, Hei is involved with many incidents involving contractors. He himself is a contractor, who pays no price for his powers. He is known as Kuro no Shinigami (The Black Reaper) to other contractors. This is because of his appearance during his missions, where he wears a distinctive mask and a black coat. Hei earned his reputation for being ruthless even before becoming a contractor. Hei also appears to have a wide array of advanced equipment with him, including a bulletproof jacket, and wires that he uses to conduct an electrical current, which is also his contractor power.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Kusaga/sandbox

I want you to see something in your mind’s eye.  Do this for me, with me. We are going to go on a journey to the not too distant future.  Cars won't be flying and robots won't walk the Earth, no we aren’t going 20 to 30 years into the future.  We are talking 18 to 28 months from today, actually to be exact it will 25 months now that I think about it, 25 months into the future.  I should have told you to pack a swim suite and sun tan lotion because not only are we going forward into time, we are going to Kona.  It’s a Saturday morning and we are walking on a cloudy beach just before the clouds burn off.  It is early.   We are walking along the start finish line of the Lavaman Waikoloa Olympic Tri on the big island.  It's 2016 and the world is so different but still very much the same.  It's me that is truly different.  I'm not the same man who walked this beach in 2013, not the same man who is sitting her typing this blog in Dr. Ishida’s office.  

The first notable difference is that I am walking.  The last time passed this stretch of beach I was hobbling.  Whatever I did when I crossed the finish line of my 2013 duathlon wasn’t walking.  My walk strike is strong, long, and powerful.   The finish line that I crossed on the March day in 2013 isn’t up yet.  It won’t be up until later today, it is part of the race day prep that other will be doing today.  Not the race day prep, which I am here to do now.  No we aren’t racing today, but rather here to test the waters to swim with the fish and roll with the waves.  The team always does a pre-race swim.  It's what we do.  Janna, CP, and Deb, and Rachel will meet me here from their condo.  I chose to come early and alone from mine.  Sometimes I have to walk alone; after all it is my reclusive nature.  The writer in me who needs the place and time to himself, but so does the positive person I have become.  I came here alone to drink in the beach, the water, the waves, and the life that is so beautiful all around me.   

I left everything in the Camaro.  Hey, how could I not go with a drop top on the big island?  The Kid has a need for speed, and the wind in his face.  So everything stay in the Camaro, well almost everything.  I have my Oakley jawbones on.  I have to, they are my rx glasses and damn I just look cool in them.  I go wearing only my tri shorts and flip flops and it’s ok because I have the body for it.  My god how long have I waited for the day I could walk on the beach without a top on and not worry am I making some else sick?  10 years, twenty years, 30 years, I don’t know, I am not sure I ever felt comfortable without my shirt off in front of others.  However, now, it isn’t a big deal.  It’s what I do.  My stomach muscles speak for themselves, as does my chest and arms.  I wanted this body for most of my 40 years and I will cherish over the next forty or fifty or however much time I am given with it.  38 to 40 have been the best years of my life. 

My right hand holds my ear plugs, goggles, and swim cap.  Have to have a swim cap, it's needed for race day, but also needed to keep my golden brown locks out if my eyes.  The hair touches just past my shoulders.  It has for a long time, but I won’t go pony tail today, that's a race day treat for the swim and bike.  The hair up and the special manscaping I do for race day.  It started with the porn stash and lamb chops at PG in 2012, which was followed up by my last trip to the big island when I went mutton chops and Abe Lincoln.  Last year’s PG look who could ever forget that, the captain jack.  I'm thinking Klingon but have not rules out the porn stash and lamp chop combo again.  You never can it is just a good race day look.  I'll ask her when I get back to our room but in the end when it comes to race shaving it's a spur of the moment grooming that has to be felt.  The Klingon feels right.  I scratch the thick Uncle Jesse mange I have going on right now.  One has to prepare the canvas before he does his art work or manscaping in this case. 

In my left hand I have my beach towel.  This beach towel isn’t like the ones I have always had to have in the past.  No, this is really just a simple towel. It’s not extended at all. It wasn’t special ordered. It’s just a towel.  A regular, every day towel, I took out of the condos bathroom.  I know that is bad juju but sometimes you need a towel at the beach.  The point is, I could fit it around me if need be.  Wow, the world has changed.  No more Billy towels need here.  Who would have thought the last time I was in Hawaii in March of 2014 that I would walk this beach now in just tri shorts (for those of you who don’t know the tri shorts are simply spandex with a pad for the bike.  You want to know who did, I did.  I sat on a beach in Maui and I saw this.  That is who and that is what matters, my mind conceived, believed, and achieved. 

I stop when I get to the swimming area.  I drop the towel on a chair and then my glasses.  I put the flip flops upside down to mark it for my peeps.  I stretch my neck.  Forward, then left, then right, and then back again and I walk to the edge of the water.  I feel the breeze on my face.  I smell the sea.  I look down and I see my feet.  I smile.  It is a joy that only a man as fat as me can truly ever appreciate.  The little things the naturally thin take for granite.  I wiggle my toes in the sand and I look out to sea.  Last time I swam here it was rough.  I was also 460 pounds.  A different man, a different life because the world has changed and I close my eyes and I see the flash in my head.  It goes black and lightening crash and then I see the Black Reaper rip through my mind and I feel his devilish call from my left shoulder.  He has come.  He will rise.  He already has.  I roll the neck again. 

Forward, back, left, then right, and around again.  The black in my mind crashes, and I see his face.  It is creamy white and his chin comes to a point.  His mouth is a purple sliver with no lips but it stretches from left to right across the face.  The eyes are black pits that are the shape of almonds. His right eye is covered with a splash of purple lightening.  His face becomes my face and together we stare out into the water.  The Black Reaper has become the symbol for the triathlete inside me, also the dual nature of the man who both loved and hated his fat, the man who both wanted to be loved and hated, feared and respected.  The Black Reaper is me and I am him.  I am no longer afraid of the darkness that lives inside me.  The anger, the hate, the self-loathing and all the other bad thoughts accumulated over a life time of not feeling good enough.  The darkness is a part of me, and I embrace it, I write about it, and I use its fuel to make me a bigger, stronger and better athlete.  At 40 I am in the best shape of my life.  My Iron dreams are on the horizon and it is just a matter of time until I realize those and get the fifth tattoo on my leg.  

I have no shame standing on that beach and feel the waves caress my toes.  I step forward as I put my ear plugs in, and my googles in place, and I pull the swim cap down over both.  I know I am supposed wait for the others.  However, I can’t.  The sea is calling to me and calling to the reaper inside me.  We want to move and we want to move now.  We want to feel strong in the water, and slip through it.  I want to pull, push, and glide through the waves.  I am ankle deep now and the sun has come out.  It splash over my tone body and I stop and I look to the sky and once again my face is gone and only the reapers face is there.  Not the face of the man, but the face of the racer.  I am waste deep now in the water and smack my hands in front of me, and then I smack them hard behind me.  Forth and back, back and forth, I look like a bird flapping its impressive wings.  I do this again and again, and the face of the reaper fades and the face of Billy b comes back.  I will swim.  I will swim strong and I will swim true.  I will swim like I was going to be first out.  I won’t be.  There is always someone fast than you.  However I will swim like a shark is chasing me.  I will be like an impala crossing a plan with the Lion on its heels.  I will be as fast as I can be. My flight reflex fully kicked in.  I will be awesome in the swim tomorrow. 

A wave comes up and splash across my chest.  I touch my rebirth tattoo.  I feel it the rock hard muscle of my chest.  I see myself turning in the water.  A good swimmer spends more time on his side than any place else.  I move like a fish because I am a fish.  I am strong in the water.  I will be during tomorrow’s swim leg of the race. 

I then open my eyes again and look down.  Once again thank all the old gods and the new ones I can see my waste, but more importantly I can see my thighs.  My thighs are critical tomorrow.  My thighs will serve as my engine when I emerge from the water and hit T1, and get ready for the bike.  I see myself putting on my Oakley Jawbones and pulling over my TNT race jersey. My god, I love it, I have never fit into a TNT tri jersey before.  I see it.  I see the symbol for believe on my left shoulder, the sun on right.  I see myself snapping my helmet.  Right sock goes on, they are special socks, ordered from Japan, they carry the Black Reaper on them, next goes on the left sock.  The reaper looks on with pleasure.  Then I get my helmet.  My black helmet that I sent to my sister in law Desire to get specially painted for me, and as you might have guessed the Black Reaper stands guard on my helmet as well.  His dark eyes saying, we are going to kill this ride.  His little smile saying they say it is mostly flat but we both know that is bull shit.  WE are going to kill this mother fucking course.  Let the Black Reaper rise.  Once the helmet is locked on, I take my bike from its rack.  It’s a Fuji Norcom 1.3 it is black as the reaper that rides it.  I am off.  The bike goes smooth.  I was a machine.  I worked just hard enough to PR on the bike. 

T2 is smooth.  I eat a little.  I drink a little.  I take in some electro lights.  I get my run belt ready.  My shoes are on and I take out my pony tail.  I grab my black visor and put it on.  I was a walker.  I was a walker for so long.  I don’t walk anymore.  No, I run and I run out of transition, but not before I take my bike shirt off and leave in transition.  When your body looks this good who needs a shirt on when you’re doing a 10k?  Plus, I have ink to show off.  The run isn’t about your mind or body it is about your spirit.  It is about your will to push yourself just a little harder, and just a little farther.  It is harder today, it is harder because today, I am not a passive participant, someone just happy to be in the event, no today I am a racer.  So, my spirit is needed more than ever.  My swim was perfect.  My bike was great, and now I need to survive the run.  It is a mind game.  Just another mind game and the Black Reaper knows how to play mind games.  After all wasn’t a mind game that got me here?  Wasn’t it a mind game that I played when I learned to love myself?  When I had to reimage my subconscious to let it know it was ok to be thin; that we didn’t have to hide anymore; and that it was ok to let The Black Reaper rise.  After all he is our friend and ally not our enemy and something to be feared.  We finish.  We finish running across.  She is there.  I pull her into my arms and hug her tight.  As tired as I am I have no trouble picking her up in my arms and sharing the joy of the race with her.

I see the Black Reaper once again looking out at the ocean and the waves splash my chest.  I see a great race a day ahead.  I turn and look to the beach and see my four friends and then I see she came with them as well.  I look eyes with her and smile.  Then I nod to my friends and I turn back to the water and let it crash against my chest.  I get ready for them to join me so we can swim and dance with waves.    

I see all this. I see it in the eye of my mind.  It is coming as surely as the Black Reaper is rising.