You just gotta...

Ah, a picture is worth a thous....er....at least three words, ain't it?  Kind of ironic that the best picture of what I was thinking be plastered on bicycle, but the gut feeling I continue to fight is actually with the bicycle's cousin:  the off-road motorcycle.

I shared  (babbled, pondered - whatever the appropriate "blog-lingo") not too long ago my mild dilemma regarding having more 2-wheeled interests than I really have time to enjoy, and it's a theme that might be coming to a jumping off point:  I'm afraid that one of these things just doesn't tickle the ol' fancy like the others...

After some time off my big, beautiful Orange girl, the first ride back was all kinds of fun just a few weeks ago.  The second ride...?  Eh, great company, but not quite the body-to-bike-by-throttle-hand connection I was hoping would follow up the first.  Last weekend?  Wasn't ready (or was just too pissy) to risk any bad moto-mojo, so, knobby never touched dirt.  But then it was really time to start getting ready for the first harescramble (motorcycle speak for 2 hour off-road race) of 2012 and that's when the mixed messages started.

I'd been planning on this race for a while, looking forward to it, and the elbows and fitness both seemed to agree that I was ready if not more than ready.  My plans hit an early stumbling block mid-week when the wife became worried that her work-week duties would likely over-flow into the weekend.  "Hmmmm...", I thought, "...and a weekend I was really hoping to double-dip with some pedal-miles, too...??"  Knowing the commitments of the leg-powered kind I'd already made for this year, I moved forward with the Saturday morning pedal-plan cuz 4 hours away from home & family is far easier to make work than the 9 hour day (plus pack & clean-up) that goes with a dirt-bike race.

That was the first (albeit mild) "sign" that I wasn't really into the moto-thing.  The next couple signals weren't so mild, like, the fact that the later "all clear" from the wife somehow gave me more stress than relief.  That was followed by a then-unrecognized resistance to commit to car-pooling to the race with friends.  Then this race morning started with three attempts to pull out of the drive-way (30 minutes off-schedule, already) before I remembered everything...except cash;  three stops to find an ATM I was willing to pay for the privilege to use;  then missing the ONE exit of the ~2 hour trip I was supposed to take in order to get there in a timely manner.  I'm thinkin' I should have turned around then...

Fast-forward a bit to me realizing that nearly every conversation I had with the moto-folk upon arrival included something along the lines of "eh, I just really don't feel the 'mojo' today...hope that passes".  The distraction of thinking "man, the conditions are perfect, this trail is gnarly-sweet...why am I not having more...fun???" dominated my first practice lap.  The 2nd lap I was far more on form, but over-run by the lack-luster feelings of the first one combined with discomfort of considering battle with the ump-teen others in my class on such terrain.  Not the best mindset, wouldn't you agree?

Back to the truck for PowerBars and Gatorade, and to find out the start is delayed, then hoping that extra time might help me get my race-face on while/but continuing to consider, "why am I here???"  The rider's meeting finally took place, but included the announcement of another short delay, and that was finally the "sign" I gave up trying to argue.  I rode from the rider's meeting straight up and into the back of my truck and had my clothes changed, truck packed and Diet Pepsi in hand before my buddies had their helmets buckled up to head down to the start.  In typically-Tony fashion, my attempts at mild humor to explain my pre-mature exit, when cognitively hog-tied, failed along the lines of "my life is too effing tightly scheduled to allow for such delays", "I shoulda brought my mountain bike", and "consider my entry fee a voluntary donation to the AA class purse".

I pulled outa there both mildly pissed off at the waste of time I brought upon myself and like I just got dumped by a hot chic - yeah, quite the combo.  The next hour or so of silence in the truck was as much mourning as embarrassment, I guess.   Grateful I didn't force it, cuz like it or not, you're head's really gotta be in it to make such racing a remotely safe endeavour, yet torqued that I'd ignored the first 1/2 dozen "signs" that already tried to tell me exactly that.  The remainder of the drive home was consumed by complex calculations trying to determine how much an "EVERYTHING must GO!!!" sale should include as a price tag, and how much repair vs. disclosure of items needing attention would work out best.

It was nice to surprise my family with my early arrival home and have no truly bad news to explain it.  It was a rather relaxed mode I got to enjoy when un-loading the truck and washing the bike while being pleasantly interrupted by my son's random questions.  I'll admit, a sort of mental inventory of the garage with the idea of above sale was tallying up in my little brain as I then changed shoes and put on gloves to ride BMX bikes up & down the block with my boy, but it didn't (doesn't YET) feel urgent or panicked.  It does feel like something that needs to reach a decision point soon, though, and one that I must carefully contemplate so that I don't (again, I know!) find myself trying to un-do it all this time next year.

Still kinda cool that such a weird, mis-understood & somewhat frustrating day came to an end which included beautiful weather, laughter, calm, and riding bikes & sharing chicken wings with my kids.

More soon, I'm sure...

Squirrels, pearls and ego...

"The squirrel cage" is an interesting, affectionate term I often use to describe the useless activity occurring between my ears that does nothing more than transport me out of the right-now.  Maybe "The Gerbil Wheel" is a more realistic term, but the mixed up image of a squirrel trapped in a cage is really far more accurate.  If that damn squirrel gets to a spinnin' around in there, it's just a matter of time before my focus is on the past or trying to get into the future - neither of which can do a guy like me any good.  Even worse, once that freakin' rodent gets a good rhythm going it's a substantial effort to restore any kind of peace or serenity to the area.

What fuels this lowly squirrel?  Well, it both craves and is fiercely allergic to doses of ego, and a side-dish of fear really kicks it into high gear.  It loves to supplement this diet by feasting on regrets, and uses that malnourishment to build up some substantial expectations.  I'm never sure at all where in the hell the fuzz-ball is trying to get, but the more bound it feels by the extremes at each end of its cage, seems the faster that little phugger goes.  All that ever really comes of it is...well...noise.

So?  Too much freakin' symbolism have you needing more tangible examples?  OK, you might have recently heard of me speak about my return to cycling and the fitness that it's bringing.  It's been good for my health and well-being, but also has improved my self image to a certain extent...maybe even just a wee bit too much.  Like, to the point that I had myself convinced that I was surely ready to jump on the wheels of a couple hard-core roadies (one a Cat 1, the other a RAAM finisher) for a long Saturday ride.  Whoooo-boy, the squirrel tucks in its napkin and gets ready to chow down...for all of the 10-15 minutes I am able to ride with those guys.

Now, with a full tummy, that little bastard is ready to rock:  "well, that was embarrassing, Tony - how fit you feel NOW?";  "bet those guys are chuckling at you riding away with your tail between your legs";  "didn't 'the data' show that you were getting fitter/faster?  Ha!  Guess the data LIED!";  "who did you think you were fooling, there, 'Mr. Ride Indoors' man?"  Actual fact:  those riders were basing their pace off me, and my ego was blowing up my legs trying to show I could stay with 'em, too proud to simply ask they ease up a bit.  But the squirrel don't care about no stinkin' facts - he's got all he needs already to get his gyro-scope in full swing.  His transitions around, back & forth his confined space also become more extreme - the "should've"'s and "could've"'s of the past are stacking up on one side.  The "you won't"'s and "you can't"'s grow in a pile at the other end of the cage that points to the future.  Can you hear that?  Pretty amazing clash of static, ain't it?  Makes it impossible to retain any focus on the present, and that is exactly what Mr. Squirrel was hoping for.

Don't get me wrong - this little bike-ride-gone-bad is just a single example, but damn near anything can get this furry little fiend into action.  I showed my ass (not quite literally, but close enough) just two days later at work using the exact same formula:  pride/ego, expectations, fear, regret.  Thank God at least there's a pattern...?  I was steamin' mad, (f-bombing wildly and loudly, of course), and found myself with one foot planted firmly in the past while the other foot stomped into the future so that...well...I basically found myself pissing all over the "right-now". 

That leads me to some other "pearls of wisdom" that have been shared with me that I eventually use to quiet the noise that puffy-tailed turd has created only in my head:

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery - all you've got is today, and that's why they call it "the present"

Don't compare your insides to other people's outsides

What other people think of you is really none of your got-dam business

The power others have to annoy me, I give to them

Per my two sons after my bad day at work, regurgitating Mommy & Daddy lessons:  "just take a deep breath", "be careful with your words", and the real stinger - "you can only control you"


Now, all THAT to arrive at the fact that...hell, I dunno.  Maybe it's just my way of sharing TM-phuggin-I.  At least my way of communicating, "inside my head is an...interesting place to visit, but no one should really have to live there"...?  Or a really long-winded way of expressing that I've still got much to learn about living right, but the journey is never dull.  Maybe a way to acknowledge to myself (and the damn squirrel) that I'm making some progress in living in the now, leaving the past as it is and letting the future come as it will.   I'm definitely learning that the less I focus on the past or try to control the future, the fuller and better the right-now gets.  Yeah, I like that.

Double-vision

Several of you may have heard me remark before that I'm a slow learner.  The specific context of that statement is rooted in the fact that it took me two attempts to squeeze a degree out of college, didn't get lasting sobriety until the 2nd bounce...hell...even had to marry the same wonderful woman twice to truly "get it".  Maybe I shouldn't be so proud of such facts, but I do love identifying such...patterns.

While loading the truck up with a pair of bikes Sunday morning (one GT mountain bike, one KTM motorcycle) I found myself nearly overwhelmed by all the "2's" in my life.  More specifically, how many things that I find truly important to my very being that have come in pairs.  Now the fact I was combining two disciplines of riding into one trip is an easy entry on the "2's" list, but as any OCD fella on a 45 minute solo trip in 11 degree weather would do, I felt it only right that I keep compiling the list. 

As noted above, both of my marriages to my current wife rank at the top.  I do not recommend this approach to marital bliss, but it's what makes ours what it is.  I also make my affection and gratitude for a certain fellowship represented by two capital letters pretty well known.  It's rather obvious that anything with two wheels gets my attention, always has.  This love of two has been with me in some combination or variety for 37 of my 41 years.   But what else?

How about...my two sons?  Yes, without a doubt, I loved Benjamin (truly more than I really thought was humanly possible) the moment he arrived, but something about the addition of Thomas seems to have completed this family.  It's not just a "black & white" thing (or, "chocolate & peach" as we say at home) but way more complicated.  They are SO different, but so much the same and near-always complimentary in a wide variety of ways.  Somehow each of them makes me love the other one even more...and...vice versa.  I'd love either one if they were my only child, but having two is far more than double the love.

From there my mind went far broader, more general, and maybe much shallower:  What other things only work "by two"?  Night & day.  Asleep & awake.  Good & Bad.  Left & Right.  Other life couplings that came to mind?  Mom & Dad.  My sisters, Debbie & Stephanie.  Passed away pets, Henry & Lucy.  Other pairs that make my daily life as complete as it is?  1) Diet 2) Pepsi.  1) Moose 2) Tracks.  1) Rainbow 2) Sherbet. 

As I approached my riding destination, I was amazed how quickly the windshield time passed with this "quest for pairs" topic bouncing between my (two!) ears.  And dammit, putting the words "pairs" and "bouncing" in the same sentence leads us right to a totally-Tony-appropriate thought to end this topic:  boobs  =)

Anyway, reading back over this tells me it may just be an unintentional waste of two things:  my time typing and your time reading.  Oh well...

Perfectly un-planned

This is what complete satisfaction can look like. 

Unlike yesterday's babble about "things not going at all as I had planned", today just kinda...happened.  I guess the lessons of life continue, indeed.  A late night text from a buddy (who'd just bought his new ride in the background) threw out the random, wishful idea of bookin' it 2 hours South and playing in/on/around the wet rocks of southern-ish Missouri.  Hmmm...Dawn seemed agreeable, (other than my apparent mis-understanding of when I was/agreed to be home - sorry honey!!), the forecast seemed pretty reasonable, only three weeks until the first race of 2012...."Hell, yeah!  Let's do it!"

I'd been pretty seriously pining to throw a leg back over this thing for a while, even if it was just to prove that the love couldn't be re-kindled, dirt-biking was no longer that much fun, and/or most of all:  the tendinitis-ridden old man elbows couldn't take it any more.  The good and the bad news is...I was wrong on all accounts.

Fantastic riding, great fellowship, happy elbows and the cracked radiator shroud along with the strange, colorful knot on my thigh were prices gladly paid.

Signed,
Yes, I'm limping with a big-ol' grin

Going all directions

Watch out for this reckless sum-bitch...my thoughts and feelings covered the spectrum this week...

From the twisted satisfaction of two nights of 85-90% MHR extended efforts to the "jeeezuz I wish I'd just crap myself to get past this gut-ache".  From 65 sunny friggin' degrees the 1st of February to 38 & rain-to-slush-to-snow forecast tonight.  From work feeling like more a pain in my ass than they bought from me to the guilt of taking two days off sick.  From loving my PT Dr(s) and what they've done for me to "OK, enough already - we done here?!?! Am I 'fixed' yet?!!?"  From enjoying the diversity my kids represent to never wanting them to socialize again...at Burger King. 

I think the last illustrates it best.  Now...I'm somewhat a tough Dad and we run a pretty strict household complete with "Family Policies", schedules, rewards, consequences - the whole gig.  (Stop chuckling...I know, hard to believe, but true).  My Saturday tradition is to take Benjamin & Thomas to either McDonald's or Burger King for lunch & fun...and usually an injury or tantrum.  We live in an area where the make up of either establishment's play area is diverse, interesting, hell sometimes flat Jerry Springer-amusing - that's part of the attraction - let 'em rub elbows, smell farts, push, chase, sneeze on and fight kids of all racial, social & economic backgrounds.

For some reason today, though, albeit still stinging from the "hangover" this week seemed to leave on me, I was twitching to get my kids out of that place!  Dirty tables, weird kids, fugly parents - it musta been some kind of Reject Retreat going on.  But then it kinda hit me - where did I get the idea that I wasn't right where I belonged...?  What made them the rejects...? I'm just a pretty-good-paid specimen of white trash, myself...with two different colored kids...living as a recovering drunk...with a giant pinch of dip in my lip...you feel me?

Seems the theme, or the lesson, of this week is/was = perspective.  I've been suffering most from a mild case of...Tony.  Lost every bit of track of what I can (and should) control, what I can't, and/or telling the effing difference.  All said and done, it wasn't such a bad week, but I damn near missed it simply because it wasn't going at all how I had planned.  I got in three rides, was productive at work which then afforded two days of (some of the best, un-interrupted) sleep to recover from un-diagnosed, wicked nausea, and a chill day of enjoying being Dad. 

Good thing the learnin' don't stop...