Marshall says,
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
We (me, Chloe and the family) have done a good job (if I do say so myself) of making opportunities and then taking them. We work hard at it. Funny now that I think about it, but we work hard at what is sort of play for most people. No regrets at all.
But in the last 10+ years, the very thing I do to help people hasn't happened for myself. I ride less and less. Several times I've resigned to just let it go and let coaching-training-directing be my job alone and let myself go play at something else. It was that I needed it to be that way, because I was getting worse and worse and more and more frustrated with the very thing I'm supposed to make better for those I help.
Not sure what made it happen other than Noah was sitting around in cycling clothes a few weeks ago, and I looked at him, frustrated a bit, and asked, "Why aren't you gone yet?" For those not real close, I meant that he needed to get out and ride, not that I actually wanted him "gone". Just clearing that up.
He said, "Waiting on you.". I wasn't anywhere close to ready to ride. Wasn't even thinking of riding, honestly. I had plenty to do at the moment. And no real motivation to be reminded how much slower and weaker I am now than glory days, especially compared to someone who is getting very strong and fast.
But it struck me that it was a moment, an opportunity, and that I could take it or let it go. Sure, there would be other opportunities to ride. Many, many more, in fact. But I wasn't going to get that opportunity again. That opportunity to ride, particularly with Noah expecting me to go out with him. Just how many more times in his and my life together will we get to ride together? And even if there are several, how many will I have to be holding him back?
I don't want to hold him back. And I could just skip it, but he wanted, or at least expected me to ride with him. Now, I never want to be the guy who drags a ride or rider down, making them wait on every hill or every turn. I want to at least be able to ride side by side with someone, or when it calls for it, at least be able to hang on to their wheel.
That ride happened.
And several more since. I took the opportunity and it opened up others.
I'm not saying I'm going to start winning races. I'm not saying I'm going to impress anyone with my fitness. But I don't dread a ride anymore. In fact, yesterday I did a true set of intervals for the first time in years. And while doing them, I wasn't thinking about how it applied to a client or that I was producing wattage less than what would be competitive in any race I could do. Nope. I actually lost myself in the workout. Was doing it because I was enjoying it. Just the pure effort of the effort.
It was on one of my least favorite roads in the area and in a type of workout I used to hate. It was windy and hot and the road was rough. My bike wasn't shifting well, and there was a gawdawful noise coming from the bottom bracket area. And I lost myself in the workout.
This week, recognizing that just getting the kids ready for school or for bed or making sure their homework was done...stuff that has to be done...is not making the most of the opportunity to be a Daddy, I took Reanie into San Marcos to visit The Paper Bear. It's sort of a girlie, but also a cool, eclectic type of store where you can get handmade jewlery, fudge, a book about how to be a better husband, a kite, or some plastic army men or furniture or incense. And other things.
Reanie and I spent a solid hour there looking at anything and everything. I had plenty to do. The Cycling Academy needs A LOT of attention right now. The work with the team is ramping back up, and I have a full load of coaching to do with several new (to me) athletes getting going... Too many times in the last few years I'd opt to focus on work that needed done instead of feigning interest in a doll that caught Reanie's interest.
While looking around, she was trying to find things she thought would interest me. Made me tear up a bit. Here we were, in the girlie store, doing some Daddy-Daughter time, and she's trying to come to me instead of me coming to her.
I took the opportunity to take her out on the "date". I took the opportunity to spend the time with her. And when I realized how things had just gotten away so much that she was at a store for her, but trying hard to make it about me, I realized the opportunity was right there to make sure she knew that it was about HER.
I smelled all the candles she wanted me to smell. I tried on all of the silly hats, even the frilly ones. We shared some fudge. We held hands. I got excited about the bouncy ball that looked like the #3 billiards ball.
It isn't that I don't want to spend that kind of time with my kids. I've done so before. But I've missed opportunities to do so lately. So much so that I couldn't remember when the last time I did something with just Reanie like that. I took the opportunity, and I lost myself to the extent that I found that "myself" isn't about the work I'm doing or projects I have. Sure, they are a part of me, but they are not more important than being a Daddy.
The things I have to do each day with regards to work are important. Not curing cancer or anything like that, but what I do is important to the people it is intended to help. Those are things I have to do to keep the roof over our heads and food on the table. I also need to feel good about me. That involves feeling fit enough that I'm doing something other than going through the motions. Interestingly, the same thing applies to being a husband and Daddy. Taking that opportunity to do more than just go through the motions.
"Lose yourself", to me, means to get rid of what it is that holds me back from being the best I can be.
And sure enough, putting some focus on myself and the kids, and I found myself more productive at work.
*no animals were harmed in writing this post. and no plan from beginning to end was made, either. You, reader (all 3 of you-- i just cheked the stats), were just easier than making an appointment and the co-pay for couch time. Grazie.
Saturday, October 08, 2011
Sunday, October 02, 2011
My Grandfather passed away
My Grandfather passed away this week. It's sad, of course, but he was expected to pass on a few weeks ago, so it wasn't a suprise. He was 85 years old, and until the last few weeks, lived an active life quite robustly. In fact, it was less than a month ago that he injured himself while jumping a stone wall. In another incident, he'd accidently knocked a shunt from his chest, but was showing his garden at the time, and though bleeding fairly heavily and soaking his shirt in the proess, carried on with want he wanted to show in his garden. Tough man.
I wasn't particularly close to my Granmpa Don. I saw him more often when I was a kid, but as I got older and had more of a choice, I opted more and more to spend time with other family in the area. The man just passed away, so it certainly isn't appropriate to make a list of complaints about him, so I'll leave it at...He wasn't a nice man.
That said, he taught me to fish. He helped teach me to swim, too. For a few summers, I remember spending time at his lake house on Caddo Lake. It was a mobile home, but it was a lake house none the less. I'm not judging at all. It was nicer than several places I've lived.
My fishing lessons there did involve baiting the hook and removing the fish. Proper stuff for 5 and 6 years old. But the method and approach were not likely to fall under the "nurturing" category. "Chreeuuss, you don't know how to put a damn worm on a hook? Damn shame. Do this. (shows me) Don't catch your finger with the hook or you'll get infected and die. And I don't want to hear about that with your mother." And then I learned to cast by be told to "throw it that way, but you better damn well not hook me, so pay attention to what you are doing."
My first swimming lesson with him was from the boat. I hit him in the back while I was attempting to cast. Out of the boat I went, and when I surfaced, he pointed to the bank and told me I was done in the boat.
I don't recall whether it was the same trip or another, but the other swimming lesson followed his exasperation with me, since I'd got my hook caught in a tree a few times while fishing from land near the house. I had to swim what seemed like a long ways down to find a place to get out, but I made it.
Years and years have passed until I thought about these things. I'm not going to say that they were things that shaped me one way or the other or caused me to need therapy or anything like that. Heck, I have some fond memories of shelling peas and exploring the garden. I have great memories and remember Christmas-like anticipation of getting to his house so I could have some of Grandma Thelma's homemade rolls. And they had an electric organ there, and as long as we kept the volume low, we could play it as much as we wanted.
As an adult with three kids, all of whom are older than where I was for those fishing and swimming lessons now, I can see how I've been at least somewhat affected by my time with Grandpa Don.
I'm pretty ok with my kids playing around me as long as they can keep it relatively quiet, but I'm pretty short to ask for quiet if I'm feeling like the noise can get out of hand or if it is getting in the way of what I'm doing (I've worked from home most of my adult life). I love having those "fresh baked bread" type smells at the house. I like it at least as much as the eating it part.
When it comes to fishing, I'm still bad at it. I love it, but I'm not particularly comfortable with it since I don't really know what I'm doing. Bait the hook? Sure. Cast or drop it in the water? Sure. No problem. But technique? None. Understanding of what makes the fish take it? None. Then again, I've actually fished for something to eat only a couple of times in my life, so it isn't all that stressful. I do need to learn something so I can pass it on to my kids in a manner that they'll understand.
Swimming. This is a tough one. Noah loved the water even as a baby, and he had not drowning down pretty quick, but he actually took swimming lessons because Lisa or her family knew someone pretty good. In fact, I believe she's actually a collegiate swim coach somewhere. Pretty dang "Dallas" of us to get a collegiate swim coach to teach our kid to swim.
Reanie and Buddy had me for the most part. I was patient. I was kind and caring. I nurtured them and we made gentle, progressive steps. But then I wasn't patient anymore, and in what was either the 3rd or 30th try to get them to actually swim that I figured it would be healthier for everyone if someone else did it. So Chloe and I put them in lessons at this gym-play-factor-pool place that offered swimming, gymnatics, karate, birthday parites, etc. I remember thinking that a couple hundred dollars was worth it at that point, but I also remember thinking that it costs nothing to throw them in the pool, watch them to make sure they don't drown, and then we're done.
Buddy learned to swim there. Reanie didn't. It stirkes me now that there should be a money back deal on that. Shortly after we concluded lessons, we went to Bobby's (Lisa's Dad) house to swim, and Buddy couldn't, but Reanie could. I was losing patience. Forutnately we had beer, wine and margaritas.
A week or so later, Chloe and I took the kids to Lake Grapevine and a swinning grotto there. Both were afraid of the lake. They were going to swim proper, though. Patience, money, time...they were passed the age that I expected them to know to swim, and I wanted them to play in the watter, Dammit.
Chloe wasn't all thata happy with me, but they learned to swim to my satisfaction. I was only sort of effective, because the next week, when I suggested that we go to Lake Grapevine to swim, they wanted to go to the dentist or something instead. But we went, and they sort of swam, and while they didn't want to get in the water, I pretty much or exactly said, "Swim, or I'll throw you in and you'll swim anyway."
Now we have a pool and they swim every day, diving from the diving board, going to the bottom of the deep end to pick up stuff, and racing each other across the pool.
They probably don't think of our days at the lake. But I reckon they'll remember it more when it comes time to teach their kid to swim. I hope they actually teach their kids themselves, but I know that for Grandkids, I'd love to be involved if asked. If I'm involved, I'm not going for the "throw them in" technique. Not at first anyway.
At my Grandpa Don's short, but sweet and simple service, it was very nice. The weather finally broke, so it was pleasant to be outside. It was pretty much just some family there, but we were in a cemetary of a small church in the small town where they grew up. We were right next to the school (as in, the playground with a working oil well is next to the cemetary) where my Mom and my aunt and uncles on that side of the family went to school from kindergarten through high school. After the service, we went to the Dairy Queen across the street, which also serves as the parking for the high school football games.
I visited with family I don't see very often, and it was so nice that I felt regret that I don't see them more often. My cousins, all very interesting people, are people I truly enjoy being around. My uncle Larry put together my first car, and I darn near went to live with my uncle Tom when I was a teenager. My aunt Dorothy always tells me that she wondered who that tall, handsome guy was she's saw, and then hugs me...
In my 40's, I suppose I can expect that funerals become defacto family reunions, and while I'm not happy that my Grandpa Don passed away, I am glad it got me to see family, even if it was the shortest of visits. I'm also glad that I do have my Granpa Don memories.
For better and worse, I can say that he had an impact on me. When I think of the things I want for my kids, they are all pleasant, of course. But I also know that things can be very tough or difficult, and they can still go on to live happy, and productive lives, whether they know how to drag a lure along the bottom in a certain way for a certain kind of fish or not.
In Grandpa Don's last couple of weeks, most of the family came in and visited. I did not. Partly because I was really busy, but that is exceedinly lame, I admit. It isn't that I didn't want to go, because I did. When I heard "it's just a matter of days," I really got to think about the electic organ, fishing, "swimming" and such, and while I have no idea if he thought about those things or even thought about me much at all, I do wish I could have told him that I remember those things with a smile. He was 85 and dying, and I should have been able to say, "thank you for taking me fishing." That really wasn't too much to ask of me. Yeah, I'm busy working two (going on three) jobs, but really, I'm not curing cancer. Nobody is too busy to see family or even friends move on to whatever is next when they have the opportunity to do so.
I wasn't particularly close to my Granmpa Don. I saw him more often when I was a kid, but as I got older and had more of a choice, I opted more and more to spend time with other family in the area. The man just passed away, so it certainly isn't appropriate to make a list of complaints about him, so I'll leave it at...He wasn't a nice man.
That said, he taught me to fish. He helped teach me to swim, too. For a few summers, I remember spending time at his lake house on Caddo Lake. It was a mobile home, but it was a lake house none the less. I'm not judging at all. It was nicer than several places I've lived.
My fishing lessons there did involve baiting the hook and removing the fish. Proper stuff for 5 and 6 years old. But the method and approach were not likely to fall under the "nurturing" category. "Chreeuuss, you don't know how to put a damn worm on a hook? Damn shame. Do this. (shows me) Don't catch your finger with the hook or you'll get infected and die. And I don't want to hear about that with your mother." And then I learned to cast by be told to "throw it that way, but you better damn well not hook me, so pay attention to what you are doing."
My first swimming lesson with him was from the boat. I hit him in the back while I was attempting to cast. Out of the boat I went, and when I surfaced, he pointed to the bank and told me I was done in the boat.
I don't recall whether it was the same trip or another, but the other swimming lesson followed his exasperation with me, since I'd got my hook caught in a tree a few times while fishing from land near the house. I had to swim what seemed like a long ways down to find a place to get out, but I made it.
Years and years have passed until I thought about these things. I'm not going to say that they were things that shaped me one way or the other or caused me to need therapy or anything like that. Heck, I have some fond memories of shelling peas and exploring the garden. I have great memories and remember Christmas-like anticipation of getting to his house so I could have some of Grandma Thelma's homemade rolls. And they had an electric organ there, and as long as we kept the volume low, we could play it as much as we wanted.
As an adult with three kids, all of whom are older than where I was for those fishing and swimming lessons now, I can see how I've been at least somewhat affected by my time with Grandpa Don.
I'm pretty ok with my kids playing around me as long as they can keep it relatively quiet, but I'm pretty short to ask for quiet if I'm feeling like the noise can get out of hand or if it is getting in the way of what I'm doing (I've worked from home most of my adult life). I love having those "fresh baked bread" type smells at the house. I like it at least as much as the eating it part.
When it comes to fishing, I'm still bad at it. I love it, but I'm not particularly comfortable with it since I don't really know what I'm doing. Bait the hook? Sure. Cast or drop it in the water? Sure. No problem. But technique? None. Understanding of what makes the fish take it? None. Then again, I've actually fished for something to eat only a couple of times in my life, so it isn't all that stressful. I do need to learn something so I can pass it on to my kids in a manner that they'll understand.
Swimming. This is a tough one. Noah loved the water even as a baby, and he had not drowning down pretty quick, but he actually took swimming lessons because Lisa or her family knew someone pretty good. In fact, I believe she's actually a collegiate swim coach somewhere. Pretty dang "Dallas" of us to get a collegiate swim coach to teach our kid to swim.
Reanie and Buddy had me for the most part. I was patient. I was kind and caring. I nurtured them and we made gentle, progressive steps. But then I wasn't patient anymore, and in what was either the 3rd or 30th try to get them to actually swim that I figured it would be healthier for everyone if someone else did it. So Chloe and I put them in lessons at this gym-play-factor-pool place that offered swimming, gymnatics, karate, birthday parites, etc. I remember thinking that a couple hundred dollars was worth it at that point, but I also remember thinking that it costs nothing to throw them in the pool, watch them to make sure they don't drown, and then we're done.
Buddy learned to swim there. Reanie didn't. It stirkes me now that there should be a money back deal on that. Shortly after we concluded lessons, we went to Bobby's (Lisa's Dad) house to swim, and Buddy couldn't, but Reanie could. I was losing patience. Forutnately we had beer, wine and margaritas.
A week or so later, Chloe and I took the kids to Lake Grapevine and a swinning grotto there. Both were afraid of the lake. They were going to swim proper, though. Patience, money, time...they were passed the age that I expected them to know to swim, and I wanted them to play in the watter, Dammit.
Chloe wasn't all thata happy with me, but they learned to swim to my satisfaction. I was only sort of effective, because the next week, when I suggested that we go to Lake Grapevine to swim, they wanted to go to the dentist or something instead. But we went, and they sort of swam, and while they didn't want to get in the water, I pretty much or exactly said, "Swim, or I'll throw you in and you'll swim anyway."
Now we have a pool and they swim every day, diving from the diving board, going to the bottom of the deep end to pick up stuff, and racing each other across the pool.
They probably don't think of our days at the lake. But I reckon they'll remember it more when it comes time to teach their kid to swim. I hope they actually teach their kids themselves, but I know that for Grandkids, I'd love to be involved if asked. If I'm involved, I'm not going for the "throw them in" technique. Not at first anyway.
At my Grandpa Don's short, but sweet and simple service, it was very nice. The weather finally broke, so it was pleasant to be outside. It was pretty much just some family there, but we were in a cemetary of a small church in the small town where they grew up. We were right next to the school (as in, the playground with a working oil well is next to the cemetary) where my Mom and my aunt and uncles on that side of the family went to school from kindergarten through high school. After the service, we went to the Dairy Queen across the street, which also serves as the parking for the high school football games.
I visited with family I don't see very often, and it was so nice that I felt regret that I don't see them more often. My cousins, all very interesting people, are people I truly enjoy being around. My uncle Larry put together my first car, and I darn near went to live with my uncle Tom when I was a teenager. My aunt Dorothy always tells me that she wondered who that tall, handsome guy was she's saw, and then hugs me...
In my 40's, I suppose I can expect that funerals become defacto family reunions, and while I'm not happy that my Grandpa Don passed away, I am glad it got me to see family, even if it was the shortest of visits. I'm also glad that I do have my Granpa Don memories.
For better and worse, I can say that he had an impact on me. When I think of the things I want for my kids, they are all pleasant, of course. But I also know that things can be very tough or difficult, and they can still go on to live happy, and productive lives, whether they know how to drag a lure along the bottom in a certain way for a certain kind of fish or not.
In Grandpa Don's last couple of weeks, most of the family came in and visited. I did not. Partly because I was really busy, but that is exceedinly lame, I admit. It isn't that I didn't want to go, because I did. When I heard "it's just a matter of days," I really got to think about the electic organ, fishing, "swimming" and such, and while I have no idea if he thought about those things or even thought about me much at all, I do wish I could have told him that I remember those things with a smile. He was 85 and dying, and I should have been able to say, "thank you for taking me fishing." That really wasn't too much to ask of me. Yeah, I'm busy working two (going on three) jobs, but really, I'm not curing cancer. Nobody is too busy to see family or even friends move on to whatever is next when they have the opportunity to do so.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Not bad at all
Due to some well-earned downtime and a needed trip down to the farm to visit family, Noah and I opted out of going to the State RR. Then again, all of the guys who did the big trip of road nats/track nats/Rimouski/Belgium are taking a break or just now coming out of hibernation.
But we were motivated to ride, so we entered the Conquer the Coast Rally in Corpus Christi. It was a pleasant enough route. Took in the bay bridge and even the Port Aransas Pass ferry, and through Mustang Island...it was quite alright.
With most of the racer types at State RR, this was more of a triathlete thing, especially with an 18mile time trial in the middle of this 70 mile rally. Awkward, but it worked.
Well, I suppose it did. I got caught up in a crash about 2 miles after the TT started (mass start TT). I was doing all of the right things. Riding up front, keeping the tempo up. Actually, in the first 30 miles, Noah was in a 2-4 man breakaway, and I rode on the front of the field for most of that 30 miles trying to keep them far enough not to catch, but close enough to encourage a chase. Unfortunately, the chasers would attack, die, and roll back on us.
All in all, I got a good workout in for about 32 miles. Then, as I was sitting about 7th wheel, 4 or 5 guys tangled up in front of me. I was able to navigate through with skill, ninja and luck, but in doing so, I slowed enough that someone relatively close behind me, who didn't bother to even tap the brakes, plowed into me from behind. Over the bars I went anyway, and then the rest of the 30 or so rider back jumped on my bike.
While I was coming to a stop with my back on the ground, my first thought was, "NNNNOOOOAAAHHHH!?!?" I thought he was right behind me, and I was scared he was going down in a heap, and we'd just found out the day before that he was going back to National Talent ID Camp with USA Cycling in a few weeks.
But he'd been hiding well back and though he had to take evasive maneuvers, he made it through just fine.
8-10 riders hit the deck, but all were able to get up and continue. Well, one guy didn't, but everyone left him when he couldn't remember what part of his body was actually hurt-- it was obvious he was faking. But my bike was done and needed some attention in the shop before it would roll again. Luckily, a nice lady and her daughter gave me a ride the 35 or so miles back to Corpus. She knew of Garmin-Cervelo, and (really) as much I tried to convince her otherwise, she was sure she'd seen me on TV in the Tour de France. I told her that it wasn't me, repeatedly. It actually got irritating to have her go on about it, but I was appreciative for the ride anyway.
I met up with Lisa, Scott and Anelise at the finish, and I enjoyed a beer that morning while I nursed wounds and did inventory.
Noah finished well. He was actually in a group that was "racing", and he had the gap coming in, but missed or took a wrong turn about 800m from the line. Still managed to get back on course and work his way up to 3rd or 4th, but it wasn't really a race, so...he lost.
Spent the rest of the day hanging out at the farm. Kids drove the new tractor, and I closed the shades and took a world class nap.
I was able to ride the next day without much trouble at all, so I'm glad my 41 year old body can still withstand a flop on the pavement. Actually felt pretty darn good on the bike, but it hurts my ankle to walk, and my shoulder is pretty tender. Kinda have the philosophy that it is good that I'm riding well enough to ride at the front and take a hit like that. Life ain't bad at all.
Lonnie and Jenny gave me a spare tire cover for my jeep that is from the "Life is Good" line of stuff. When we got home yesterday, as Noah and I took the bikes off of the car and got ready to ride, even though it was late in the day, I looked around at our log cabin, the pool, the hot tub, the happy kids, the pleasant weather, my beautiful wife...yeah, I crashed. Yeah, the entry fee was $60 (!) each for the rally. Yeah, there's a lot of work to do at the Cycling Academy.
But Life is Good anyway.
But we were motivated to ride, so we entered the Conquer the Coast Rally in Corpus Christi. It was a pleasant enough route. Took in the bay bridge and even the Port Aransas Pass ferry, and through Mustang Island...it was quite alright.
With most of the racer types at State RR, this was more of a triathlete thing, especially with an 18mile time trial in the middle of this 70 mile rally. Awkward, but it worked.
Well, I suppose it did. I got caught up in a crash about 2 miles after the TT started (mass start TT). I was doing all of the right things. Riding up front, keeping the tempo up. Actually, in the first 30 miles, Noah was in a 2-4 man breakaway, and I rode on the front of the field for most of that 30 miles trying to keep them far enough not to catch, but close enough to encourage a chase. Unfortunately, the chasers would attack, die, and roll back on us.
All in all, I got a good workout in for about 32 miles. Then, as I was sitting about 7th wheel, 4 or 5 guys tangled up in front of me. I was able to navigate through with skill, ninja and luck, but in doing so, I slowed enough that someone relatively close behind me, who didn't bother to even tap the brakes, plowed into me from behind. Over the bars I went anyway, and then the rest of the 30 or so rider back jumped on my bike.
While I was coming to a stop with my back on the ground, my first thought was, "NNNNOOOOAAAHHHH!?!?" I thought he was right behind me, and I was scared he was going down in a heap, and we'd just found out the day before that he was going back to National Talent ID Camp with USA Cycling in a few weeks.
But he'd been hiding well back and though he had to take evasive maneuvers, he made it through just fine.
8-10 riders hit the deck, but all were able to get up and continue. Well, one guy didn't, but everyone left him when he couldn't remember what part of his body was actually hurt-- it was obvious he was faking. But my bike was done and needed some attention in the shop before it would roll again. Luckily, a nice lady and her daughter gave me a ride the 35 or so miles back to Corpus. She knew of Garmin-Cervelo, and (really) as much I tried to convince her otherwise, she was sure she'd seen me on TV in the Tour de France. I told her that it wasn't me, repeatedly. It actually got irritating to have her go on about it, but I was appreciative for the ride anyway.
I met up with Lisa, Scott and Anelise at the finish, and I enjoyed a beer that morning while I nursed wounds and did inventory.
Noah finished well. He was actually in a group that was "racing", and he had the gap coming in, but missed or took a wrong turn about 800m from the line. Still managed to get back on course and work his way up to 3rd or 4th, but it wasn't really a race, so...he lost.
Spent the rest of the day hanging out at the farm. Kids drove the new tractor, and I closed the shades and took a world class nap.
I was able to ride the next day without much trouble at all, so I'm glad my 41 year old body can still withstand a flop on the pavement. Actually felt pretty darn good on the bike, but it hurts my ankle to walk, and my shoulder is pretty tender. Kinda have the philosophy that it is good that I'm riding well enough to ride at the front and take a hit like that. Life ain't bad at all.
Lonnie and Jenny gave me a spare tire cover for my jeep that is from the "Life is Good" line of stuff. When we got home yesterday, as Noah and I took the bikes off of the car and got ready to ride, even though it was late in the day, I looked around at our log cabin, the pool, the hot tub, the happy kids, the pleasant weather, my beautiful wife...yeah, I crashed. Yeah, the entry fee was $60 (!) each for the rally. Yeah, there's a lot of work to do at the Cycling Academy.
But Life is Good anyway.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
and then, and then, and then...
In the last month or so I've really felt the weight of having two jobs. Please don't get me wrong, because I was born to do both of these jobs. I love doing them. As corny as it sounds, I really do love my life and how it is going.
But I sure am tired. I've nearly given up bike racing for myself, and it has been a relief. one job, and I can pull it off, even with 3 kids and such. But the two jobs, especially when one of them pretty much means I can't race at a race because I'm taking care of riders who are racing...well, I just couldn't manage to do it well.
That said, I could downgrade, and I probably should have several years ago after being hit in Argyle, but I kept hanging on and waiting to be able to race with Noah. I did that a couple of times this year before my directing job really took over, and I'll forever have that. But by now, he's so much better than me, and I'm quite a bit behind category, that it has been easier to just let it go. It still hurts to say that, but it hurts less than the stress/strain/pressure/whatever of always feeling behind on fitness.
Anyway, the two jobs has kept me from being able to sit here and crank out even a 6 minute thought. Facebook and burping out a status update has been lots easier and something I could do while waiting for the check at a meal or for the pump to kick off while filling up with gas.
Thank you, though, for still checking in. If I'm posting less than once per month and you are reading this, you either sincerely care or need to up your medication.
Life is really good here. My first job is rocking along better than ever and has taken me further than I ever thought it would when I started. My second job is accelrating faster than I thought was possible, and this is a really good thing.
Coming up is a week coaching at the Regional Development Camp, and our camp manager (Dave Wenger) set it up that I can actually stay at home most nights. Being able to work the camp for a week with some of the most talented juniors in Texas is great, but being able to see my little kids and wife at home in the evenings makes it even better.
From there we head to Tulsa and then Georgia for a prep-camp for Jr Road Nationals, and then the week of road nationals. We head home for a few days, and then up to Frisco for junior track nationals. On one hand, it is great that track nats are in Texas and nearby. On the other hand, we're a long, long way from Rimouski, Quebec, which is where we will be headed. 40 hour drive that has to be done in 2.5 days...
We'll be in Rimouski for 5-6 days, then we make the drive home, where we will do laundry, and then catch a plane to Belgium, where I will be doing some work for the Slipstream team for the month.
We'll get back just in time for school to start.
Alright. Back to work!
Nobody is making you read this, but thank you for doing so anyway.
Chris
--Bonus--
Quote of the day from Buddy: Mama, Mama, I just thought of something...(pause)...never mind. I just tooted.
But I sure am tired. I've nearly given up bike racing for myself, and it has been a relief. one job, and I can pull it off, even with 3 kids and such. But the two jobs, especially when one of them pretty much means I can't race at a race because I'm taking care of riders who are racing...well, I just couldn't manage to do it well.
That said, I could downgrade, and I probably should have several years ago after being hit in Argyle, but I kept hanging on and waiting to be able to race with Noah. I did that a couple of times this year before my directing job really took over, and I'll forever have that. But by now, he's so much better than me, and I'm quite a bit behind category, that it has been easier to just let it go. It still hurts to say that, but it hurts less than the stress/strain/pressure/whatever of always feeling behind on fitness.
Anyway, the two jobs has kept me from being able to sit here and crank out even a 6 minute thought. Facebook and burping out a status update has been lots easier and something I could do while waiting for the check at a meal or for the pump to kick off while filling up with gas.
Thank you, though, for still checking in. If I'm posting less than once per month and you are reading this, you either sincerely care or need to up your medication.
Life is really good here. My first job is rocking along better than ever and has taken me further than I ever thought it would when I started. My second job is accelrating faster than I thought was possible, and this is a really good thing.
Coming up is a week coaching at the Regional Development Camp, and our camp manager (Dave Wenger) set it up that I can actually stay at home most nights. Being able to work the camp for a week with some of the most talented juniors in Texas is great, but being able to see my little kids and wife at home in the evenings makes it even better.
From there we head to Tulsa and then Georgia for a prep-camp for Jr Road Nationals, and then the week of road nationals. We head home for a few days, and then up to Frisco for junior track nationals. On one hand, it is great that track nats are in Texas and nearby. On the other hand, we're a long, long way from Rimouski, Quebec, which is where we will be headed. 40 hour drive that has to be done in 2.5 days...
We'll be in Rimouski for 5-6 days, then we make the drive home, where we will do laundry, and then catch a plane to Belgium, where I will be doing some work for the Slipstream team for the month.
We'll get back just in time for school to start.
Alright. Back to work!
Nobody is making you read this, but thank you for doing so anyway.
Chris
--Bonus--
Quote of the day from Buddy: Mama, Mama, I just thought of something...(pause)...never mind. I just tooted.
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
My first night at The Driveway
Conversation #1
Someone I don't know-- "Chann. Chann. CHANN! Hey CHANN!"
Me- (looking up to see Chann)
Someone I don't know-- I didn't know you were going to be here tonight. Cool! Are you racing?"
Me-- (reaching to shake hands) I'll give it a few laps and then make up some excuste to drop out and then watch the finish. Not really racing, but I'll be in there.
Someone I don't know-- ???
Me-- Hi, I'm Christian.
Someone I don't know-- You aren't Chann? Chann is my coach.
Conversation #2
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- why is Noah on a Felt. I thought the Pro Tour guys were on Cervelo this year. They are on Cervelo aren't they? The team is called 'Garmin-Cervelo'.
Me-- Don't get me wrong, because I love a Chipotle burrito, but we can't literally eat there every meal
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- hahaha... (pause) what?
Me-- Noah didn't go to the team meeting where they gave out bikes. He had an algebra test that day.
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- hahaha... (pause) what?
Me-- You are aware that Noah is 15 and is not actually on the Pro Tour team, right?
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- He's 15?
Me-- Yes. He still sleeps with the light on.
Acquaintance-- hahaha... (pause) what?
Someone I don't know-- "Chann. Chann. CHANN! Hey CHANN!"
Me- (looking up to see Chann)
Someone I don't know-- I didn't know you were going to be here tonight. Cool! Are you racing?"
Me-- (reaching to shake hands) I'll give it a few laps and then make up some excuste to drop out and then watch the finish. Not really racing, but I'll be in there.
Someone I don't know-- ???
Me-- Hi, I'm Christian.
Someone I don't know-- You aren't Chann? Chann is my coach.
Conversation #2
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- why is Noah on a Felt. I thought the Pro Tour guys were on Cervelo this year. They are on Cervelo aren't they? The team is called 'Garmin-Cervelo'.
Me-- Don't get me wrong, because I love a Chipotle burrito, but we can't literally eat there every meal
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- hahaha... (pause) what?
Me-- Noah didn't go to the team meeting where they gave out bikes. He had an algebra test that day.
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- hahaha... (pause) what?
Me-- You are aware that Noah is 15 and is not actually on the Pro Tour team, right?
Acquaintance at The Driveway-- He's 15?
Me-- Yes. He still sleeps with the light on.
Acquaintance-- hahaha... (pause) what?
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