Holy shiz-nit, it's been a while since I really let my fingers do the talking...I've just been too phuggin' busy with a lot of good stuff! Spring 2012 has me all kinds of whacked out, and 94.73% in a good way. So much going on, so much to do, work toward, enjoy and reflect on. Yeah, something sure has "sprung".
April has just about blown through, but it's been packed with a lotta "firsts" (or "damn-near-firsts", and/or "first-in-a-really-freakin'-long-time"'s). I started the month by taking my first-ever, solo "stay-cation". It was "take a week off work to avoid quitting or getting fired" motivated, but what I actually got to do with the time made it worth a whole lot more. I even created some goals, like: ride a bicycle for 20 hours, do all of the school drop-offs/pick-ups of Da Boyz, knock out a buncha chores around the house, and...well, nap. The idea behind those 9 days off really focused on giving attention to all (and only) the stuff I wanted to give attention to. Mission accomplished in more ways than one, for sure.
The "20 hours in 7 days" idea launched on Sunday with my first-ever "gravel-grinder"...and "just" 82 miles of it. A gravel-grinder is a clever way of saying "bicycle ride on gravel roads", and such rides were my motivation to recently purchase a cyclocross bike. I jumped in with some hardcore dudes, but at the end of the day I was feeling proud, accomplished...and tired...and sunburned. The normally-a-work-week kicked off with mowing, lawn chemicals, irrigation fine-tuning, and errands before another spin on the road bike. Next day was several hours on the mountain bike capped on both ends with some fun with my sons. Mid-way point of the week was very intense - very NAP intense. Hey, I did say that napping was one of the goals! 83+ paved miles then on Thursday that started in mid-40 degree mist/rain and ended in 60 degree sun. Friday included laundry, errands and a weird phone interview followed by some 'cross bike exploring and the usual Friday Family Movie Night.
Saturday was both a "first" and a "first-in-a-really-freakin'-long-time": I took part in my first 3 hour mountain bike race, which was my first race since the calendar year started with a "2"! As if I wasn't re-hooked on bikes enough this year, that 3h 3m of sufferin' sunk the barb even deeper (8th outa 24 results didn't hurt, either!). It also allowed me to reach my stay-cation goal: 20h 02m, 279 miles composed of three different disciplines of pedal-power in seven calendar days.
Needless to say (but I'm gonna say it anyway?) - for 9 days I was absolutely, positively living the dream. I was a "kept man", a "stay-at-home, part-time Dad", a "spoiled rotten middle-aged kid" - call it what you want, but I'll bet you $1.00 of your money that you're envious! Could I do that full time? Hmmmm....oh HELL yes!! Do I continue to contemplate doing just that and review the family budget and cash flow to see if it's actually possible? For damn sure, I do! But there's gotta be a middle ground there....somewhere...don't you think? I gotta find it if there is. Anyway, I've since returned to work, have gone two weeks without getting fired or quitting, and seem to somehow be enjoying my bike riding, my chores/responsibilities, and most of all my family just a little bit more than ever. Seems the stay-cation did what I'd hoped, and then some...a lotta "some", actually.
A couplefew other things seem to have come into season along with the uber-green grass and 'bout-perfect weather. First and foremost - my kids. What the...??? Maybe all parents experience it, and if not I sure hope they get to, but my 5.5 & 6.5 year old boys somewhere in the last 20-30 days have turned some kinda corner. They've always been great kids, but they've taken it to another level - with their growing affection for each other, their exponential growth in knowledge, reading, humor, and their ever-increasing size, strength and physical abilities. My sons are just cooler than ever to hang out with! I've loved 'em all along, I've even liked 'em almost all the time, but I find myself now nearly in awe. This is exciting shit! They're working their magic on evolving from little boys into little men and doing a fantastic job. Being a Dad is cool...
So...1/3 of the way through Spring 2012 and everything I'd hoped to sprout is growing far better than I could've imagined (OK, including my apparent employment allergy....?!? Eh-hemmm). My focus on bicycles is proving rather rewarding as I've now competed in 2 mountain bike races - the second being a 6 hour solo ride to 4th in class - and enjoying a level of fitness I've not known since my "I want to go to the '92 Olympics" era of the mid '80's! I've registered for a 75 mile off-road race in May and feeling more and more confident in my chances of finishing (and growing conviction to "finish respectfully") the Silver Rush 50 in Leadville, CO in July. I find myself being known now-a-days as "one of the fast guys" by the KC area bike folks - something I've never been before. Oh, I've often been the "well, he does have some skills" guy, and for many years was known as the "pretty fast for a big guy" fella, but now at 41.8 years old, it seems I have finally arrived...ha ha. Funny to say it that way...but I don't really care.
OK, well, that's about as much babble about nothing inparticular that I've got in me. All that to simply say - working or not, I am living the dream and it seems to just keep getting better.
*** Special thanks to Big Worm and Big Jim for they're part in helping kick my latest bicycle era into high(er) gear as well as their continued input and advice on how to make the most of it ***
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Saturday, March 10, 2012
What's in a name...
It has been a looooooong time since I crashed on a bicycle. I don't mean some slow/no-speed, no-brainer, spode type get off or shin shot that is instantly laugh-able even though it hurts a bit. I mean the kind of crash that as soon as things start goin' south, life goes into slow-motion and you have time in the midst of it to distinctly say to yourself, "well, shit...this is not going to end well." And to be more accurate, I could say it'd been a long time until, oh, about 9:45 this morning.
I enjoy a certain amount of confidence and even take a fair amount of pride in my bike handling skills. Also, unless I'm on the trials bike or riding a wheelie, I much enjoy keeping my mountain bike tires on terra firma. Sure, if there's a way to launch off a root or rock to avoid the next 2 or three, I'll do it, but generally any of my "air time" is with the sole purpose of finding the smoothest, quickest line on the trail. Me and my 29er hard-tail bike ain't much for "hucking" nor search out the thrill of big drops, etc., or at least hadn't done so until last weekend.
2 hours into a nearly 4 hour ride I hooked up with some full-suspension bike riders for a pretty playful couple laps of an area trail that includes some 2 - 5 foot drops as alternate lines. Lines that aren't any faster or more direct, really, but lines put in simply for the thrill of over-coming fear and lettin' fly. I got a bit curious. Curious enough that soon I found myself ready, willing and able to roll my skilled azz off anything those with shocks on both ends were willing to.
This...is FacePlant: http://www.flickr.com/photos/1eyedz/5826341347/
(***sorry, the only good pic I could find of it is copywrited, so, this is all I can give ya***)
FacePlant is the name of a section of this KC area trail. Seems all trail sections have names - Rancho-d-lux, Nate's Section, 8 Pin, Marci's Playground, to name a few. I really don't know that they have any meaning other than whatever was in the namer's mind at the time it was built. FacePlant, though, was named for a very specific reason - you don't commit to the 4-ish foot drop of this cluster of rocks, you will end up on your face.
Technically, it isn't that difficult - it's not a matter of speed, or impending danger, really - but you gotta mean it. This ain't a half-ass gig. The first few times I did it I was pleasantly surprised to confirm this, finding it only necessary to relax, maintain trail speed, and shift your weight back a bit. I must've done it close to a dozen times last weekend, much to my own enjoyment and even some notoriety as "the guy on the hard-tail did it?!!??" I still in no way consider myself one who seeks out such things or cares to do anything bigger, badder, whatever-er, but proud that I showed FacePlant just whatizzup.
This morning's goal/plan was to simply ride steady for 3+ hours. I wasn't there to hammer. I also wasn't there to look for the next "big thing" to conquer. I was just there to put time on some tough trail into my body, pure and simple. Of course, with last weekend's "awakening", I didn't always take the smoothest, fastest, most-direct lines, either. First time to/through the FacePlant section I did exactly what I'd done before - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling. About an hour later I came to this section again with legs/body all warmed up, riding a good-but-notably-faster-than-first-lap pace. Time came to choose which line to take - off or around the FacePlant drop - and I didn't think twice about sticking to the same line I'd ridden the first go 'round.
The moment my front wheel left that clump of rocks, though, I realized I should've chosen more wisely. Just after the usual landing area, the trail bends to the right. Not instantly, but definitely goes a direction that is not exactly "in line" with the take-off of that lovely rock. "Shit! I should've slowed down just a bit and/or aimed a bit more to the right" sped through my head before the slow-motion "uh oh" self-comentary noted earlier kicked in. That slo-mo self-comentary, though, was dead-on.
I'd landed a good 3-4 feet further from the rock, and past the intended transition, than I had in any previous attempts, front tire meeting the softer, damper dirt just to the left of the trail. Bottom-out fork? Check. Front tire "pushing" as it tries to grab hold? Check. Trail continuing to curve to the right without me? Check. While a major "whoops", it seemed for just a split second I was gonna get by with just a humbling low-side...until that "pushing" front tire reached a just-big-enough rock to stop its search for traction, but not my forward momentum. Oh, that tire damn sure stopped, hard enough that 6 inches of the tire bead got pulled out, but me and the rest of the bike weren't hardly even slowed up.
It gets a bit fuzzy and painful from there, but as me and the rest of the bike got flipped over the stopped front wheel, it really was like being grabbed by the ankles and being swung over some one's head and toward the ground where I landed on my....wait for it.....wait for it.....face. Yup, while it was thankfully on dirt and not one of the area's gazillion rocks, the left side of my face felt like the unlucky side of a rubber-band snapping. I damn sure pinched my legs, skinned my shins/calves, and thoroughly soiled all my clothes in the rolling exit from the bike that followed, but my focus was stuck on "I can't effing believe I just did a face-plant...off of a phugging rock they named 'FacePlant'".
I then gathered myself, did a quick check of body & bike inventory and eased on back about a mile to my truck and supplies/tools therein. It took about 15 or so minutes to straighten out the bike and stop some bleeding, but nothing on me or bike was serious. The largest discomfort was the result of the substantial blow to my ego. The goal remained un-satisfied, though - I still needed at least another 90 minute of riding, and I headed back to the trail to get it. It included a good dose of "the hair of the dog that bit me"...yeah...I once again picked the same line at FacePlant - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling. Other than that earlier substantial mis-judgement, it was a fantastic ride...
I do have to say, though, that I am terribly grateful that the section named "Jaw Breaker" was ridden several times without any similar name-sake type repercussions.
I enjoy a certain amount of confidence and even take a fair amount of pride in my bike handling skills. Also, unless I'm on the trials bike or riding a wheelie, I much enjoy keeping my mountain bike tires on terra firma. Sure, if there's a way to launch off a root or rock to avoid the next 2 or three, I'll do it, but generally any of my "air time" is with the sole purpose of finding the smoothest, quickest line on the trail. Me and my 29er hard-tail bike ain't much for "hucking" nor search out the thrill of big drops, etc., or at least hadn't done so until last weekend.
2 hours into a nearly 4 hour ride I hooked up with some full-suspension bike riders for a pretty playful couple laps of an area trail that includes some 2 - 5 foot drops as alternate lines. Lines that aren't any faster or more direct, really, but lines put in simply for the thrill of over-coming fear and lettin' fly. I got a bit curious. Curious enough that soon I found myself ready, willing and able to roll my skilled azz off anything those with shocks on both ends were willing to.
This...is FacePlant: http://www.flickr.com/photos/1eyedz/5826341347/
(***sorry, the only good pic I could find of it is copywrited, so, this is all I can give ya***)
FacePlant is the name of a section of this KC area trail. Seems all trail sections have names - Rancho-d-lux, Nate's Section, 8 Pin, Marci's Playground, to name a few. I really don't know that they have any meaning other than whatever was in the namer's mind at the time it was built. FacePlant, though, was named for a very specific reason - you don't commit to the 4-ish foot drop of this cluster of rocks, you will end up on your face.
Technically, it isn't that difficult - it's not a matter of speed, or impending danger, really - but you gotta mean it. This ain't a half-ass gig. The first few times I did it I was pleasantly surprised to confirm this, finding it only necessary to relax, maintain trail speed, and shift your weight back a bit. I must've done it close to a dozen times last weekend, much to my own enjoyment and even some notoriety as "the guy on the hard-tail did it?!!??" I still in no way consider myself one who seeks out such things or cares to do anything bigger, badder, whatever-er, but proud that I showed FacePlant just whatizzup.
This morning's goal/plan was to simply ride steady for 3+ hours. I wasn't there to hammer. I also wasn't there to look for the next "big thing" to conquer. I was just there to put time on some tough trail into my body, pure and simple. Of course, with last weekend's "awakening", I didn't always take the smoothest, fastest, most-direct lines, either. First time to/through the FacePlant section I did exactly what I'd done before - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling. About an hour later I came to this section again with legs/body all warmed up, riding a good-but-notably-faster-than-first-lap pace. Time came to choose which line to take - off or around the FacePlant drop - and I didn't think twice about sticking to the same line I'd ridden the first go 'round.
The moment my front wheel left that clump of rocks, though, I realized I should've chosen more wisely. Just after the usual landing area, the trail bends to the right. Not instantly, but definitely goes a direction that is not exactly "in line" with the take-off of that lovely rock. "Shit! I should've slowed down just a bit and/or aimed a bit more to the right" sped through my head before the slow-motion "uh oh" self-comentary noted earlier kicked in. That slo-mo self-comentary, though, was dead-on.
I'd landed a good 3-4 feet further from the rock, and past the intended transition, than I had in any previous attempts, front tire meeting the softer, damper dirt just to the left of the trail. Bottom-out fork? Check. Front tire "pushing" as it tries to grab hold? Check. Trail continuing to curve to the right without me? Check. While a major "whoops", it seemed for just a split second I was gonna get by with just a humbling low-side...until that "pushing" front tire reached a just-big-enough rock to stop its search for traction, but not my forward momentum. Oh, that tire damn sure stopped, hard enough that 6 inches of the tire bead got pulled out, but me and the rest of the bike weren't hardly even slowed up.
It gets a bit fuzzy and painful from there, but as me and the rest of the bike got flipped over the stopped front wheel, it really was like being grabbed by the ankles and being swung over some one's head and toward the ground where I landed on my....wait for it.....wait for it.....face. Yup, while it was thankfully on dirt and not one of the area's gazillion rocks, the left side of my face felt like the unlucky side of a rubber-band snapping. I damn sure pinched my legs, skinned my shins/calves, and thoroughly soiled all my clothes in the rolling exit from the bike that followed, but my focus was stuck on "I can't effing believe I just did a face-plant...off of a phugging rock they named 'FacePlant'".
I then gathered myself, did a quick check of body & bike inventory and eased on back about a mile to my truck and supplies/tools therein. It took about 15 or so minutes to straighten out the bike and stop some bleeding, but nothing on me or bike was serious. The largest discomfort was the result of the substantial blow to my ego. The goal remained un-satisfied, though - I still needed at least another 90 minute of riding, and I headed back to the trail to get it. It included a good dose of "the hair of the dog that bit me"...yeah...I once again picked the same line at FacePlant - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling. Other than that earlier substantial mis-judgement, it was a fantastic ride...
I do have to say, though, that I am terribly grateful that the section named "Jaw Breaker" was ridden several times without any similar name-sake type repercussions.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
The "re-visit"
Five or so years later, we were living 250 miles away from each other, but due to a work engagement (and that fact we both found ourselves single...well, single enough), I ended up staying at her place for a night. And wow, what a night it was - intense, familiar-yet-brand-new, electric, and...well, I'll say it again: amazing! One of those connections that had me thinking "oh my GAWD, how or why did I let her go? What the hell was I thinking??? When can we do this again??!!??"
We pretty quickly coordinated the next rendezvous, still a-buzz from the first, I think both of us wondering "could we make 'us' work again....?" This 2nd "re-visit" escapade, though, just...wasn't that good, frankly. I mean, it was pleasant, it was comfortable, it did the basic "trick", but the passion, the goosebumps, the pure thrill of the initial re-acquaintance just wasn't there. I think we parted ways both thinking it was still way better than doing it alone, but I doubt "I can't wait to do that again!" was on either of our minds.
Encounter #3 came along I'm pretty sure out of mutual boredom, no real enthusiasm, but purely, "eh, what/who the hell else have I got to do...?" And that is pretty much exactly how it went. We mighta still jumped in the sack, but only cuz we'd gut-bombed ourselves at the buffet and it was time to sleep! That planned weekender quickly got cut down to a single evening-through-morning "date". The disappointment was obvious - no anger, no blame, no fault, just plain ol', "damn...that was hardly worth the trip."
Why do I share this wonderful, deep, emotionally mature story to the whole flippin' world? (OK, that "whole flippin' world" bit is a mild over-statement, but you get my drift) Simply because it near-brilliantly illustrates my recently failed relationship with a love of the internal combustion persuasion. Life changes of the past few years (foster care, adoption, dusting off a couplefew bicycles) had me experiencing that same "it'd run its course and it was time to move on" feeling.
Then came Dr's okay to re-mount the dirt bike and that first ride was, well, intense, familiar-yet-brand-new, electric, and amazing. I was BACK, I was fit, I was fast, I was billy-bad-ass! Let's do that again!!! Until the second ride, where, it was still better than sitting on the couch, but wasn't near the thrilling, fist-pumpin', rock-and-rollin' groove of the first. Finally, based on a very similar "I got a kitchen pass and there is a race today...might as well go" rationale as the third ex-companion engagement, I loaded up the gas-burning 2-wheeler and headed out...only to also get that same "damn...that was hardly worth the trip" result.
So, the above picture is from Thursday's garage clean-out/sell-out to a good friend willing to take it all for a price we both felt was a good deal. All this may just be further proof that I'm a slow learner that has to live everything twice, but there's also a more interesting (or at least entertaining) commonality: my romance with dirt bikes was at its best between my first and second era of pedal-power. That ex-girlfriend "re-visit" was between my first and second marriage to the same woman. Purely coincidence....right...???
I'll always consider some "what if's" about the KTM, dirt biking, and off-road motorcycle racing, but hopefully I will now always know it just ain't meant to be. My memories of it all will be rather fond, no doubt, but much like that girlfriend it is a passion that simply could not be recreated.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
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...
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
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...
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...
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Perfectly un-planned
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
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