And So It Goes

Wow. My last post here was in 2017 and was definitely typed on a laptop. That was one city, one job, one kiddo, and a whole heck of a lot of living ago. 

And man have things changed. I have two wonderful kids who a navigating having two homes like champs. I have a fantastic partner who puts up with my baggage. I work for an incredible shop with an amazing team of people who have my back. 

But some things haven’t changed. I still ride bikes. Less than before, but now with different purposes and goals. I still live in Appalachia, though a little further north than when I last posted. I still love to read, make art, and cook (and eat). Just have less time to do those things (except the eating bit). 

I have some goals for this orbit that we’re currently on. Be more present for my family and friends. Be less harried at work. Get back into better shape (process not outcome based goal). Make art more consistently. 

We’ll see how it goes. I would say that I’ll post here regularly, but the last time I did that it took me 7 years to write my next one. Maybe I can cut that down by a few this time. 

Dean

The last post I published was well over two years ago and was titled "Don't Screw Up". That has become a mantra to me now more than ever. A little over 9 months ago Jess and I welcomed a beautiful baby boy into our family. Dean is a chunk of a kid who loves to explore and get into trouble, which is how I imagine most 9 month old beans are. He lights up when Jess or I walk into a room and lights up our hearts when we see him after a long day at work or out riding. 

With him around though, "don't screw up" has a whole new meaning. He already repeats the sounds we make (including the tittle of the only Denis Leary song I know). He loves bicycles (especially their tires which are fun to chew on). And cords, he also loves electrical cords, which terrifies the crap out of me (I never realized how many cords we have around our house). Forget baby proofing, by the way, he just finds the next thing that isn't baby proofed, until your completely exhausted and forget to re-set the fastener on that started it all, and he's back in the hosier cabinet. 

Someday I would like to get back to posting on here roughly once a week like I did in the beginning. It keeps my mind sharp and lets me put the world into perspective for myself (and others, hopefully). With Dean around, I can only hope for once a month, which is much better than I have managed over the past 5 years.  

Don't screw up

Seven months ago I bought into a bike shop. It felt good. I was 27, owned part of a business, was married to a gorgeous and brilliant woman, and had a cat and a dog. Things seemed pretty strait forward. Don't screw up.

I did a few races over the course of the year. I messed up a couple of those. Crashed. Bonked. Didn't prepare enough. I finished all but one, and still won money for that one. Overall though a pretty good year on the bike. Don't screw up.

November was good. Awesome time spent resting and recovering from a long season. A great month at the shop. We spent a wonderful Thanksgiving in Cincinnati. I had some amazing rides without any point. It was a good month. Don't screw up.

December started well enough. Jess and I were hitting the gym. I was kick starting my training year. We made a trip up to Roanoke and Farmville to visit Jess' dad and my sister. And we screwed up.

We got sick. Jess had the worst of it so she went to the doctor and I kept working. And kept getting worse. And kept screwing up. Finally after a week of being sick, I went to the doctor. Two hours later the verdict was in. Pneumonia and some form of flu.

I screwed up. Now after a week of being stuck at home with short forays out into the world. I am starting to feel better. I still get tired easily. I still cough up a lung if I change the angle of my torso or the temperature of the air I am breathing.

I have effectively screwed up the beginning of my training season for next year. I messed up almost all of Jess' and mines Christmas plans (except for Christmas day itself). I put more pressure on my partners at a time of year when no one needs it.

The point of this rambling is this... growing up, being an adult, means screwing up. You make mistakes. You don't prepare quite right. You let your guard down. You get sick. What you have to remember is this. It's not about not screwing up. That is something that is easy to loose sight of when everything is going right. What makes life worth living is pushing yourself. Your going to fall down. And maybe that means that isn't the right path to go down. Or maybe it just means you need to go about it a different way or with more gusto.

So with everyone's favorite resolution day on the horizon, don't screw up... go for broke instead.

24 Hours of Rocky Hill

Well it's over. 24 hours of mountain biking in Texas. Good friends, good food, good trails. Horrible idea. But that is what we do.

Every year Jared and I did something stupid in college. Pre-dawn bike ride though Cincinnati. Check. 120 mile road race in Colorado on little training. Check. 24 hour race solo with no ultra experience. Check. XXC race after a summer of rehabbing from injury. Check.

Since we both left Damscus, it has been difficult to get together for these grand adventures. We both have done "stupid things" just on our own without the camaraderie of old. So this year I braved this Texas heat and dust and signed up for the 24 Hours of Rocky Hill. Jared has a history of doing well there. I was coming in not having raced a 24 hour race in 4 years.

Things started out pretty good with me leading the men's solo division and Jared sitting pretty in 2nd for the first couple of laps. I put in two of the fastest solo laps over the first two laps setting myself up for the fastest lap award. Unfortunately I paid for the effort and seeded first to Jared after a three or four laps. What I didn't know was at this point Jared's fork was blown and he was riding with a bottomed out fork. After a few laps we were riding together just as we were forced to turn out lights on.

Then Jared flatted. And flatted again. At this point my back and neck were beginning to go (note to self, work on core). So I did what any logical person would do. I went out do another lap (#10). It sucked. I ran off the trail a few times from sheer tiredness. I ran off one time because I simply couldn't turn the bike quick enough. So after what felt like forever, but was really about 2 hours, I dragged my sorry hindquarters back into camp.

By this point the eventual winner had passed Jared and I and wasn't slowing down. I was sore, tired, and dejected. Jacob attempted to get me back out on the bike. Jess even threatened me from afar. No use. I told Jared to take my bike after he dragged in from his 11th lap. I put on some dry clothes and passed out. 2 hours later, Jared walked into camp dragging my bike with him. Another flat. So we fixed it and both decided to see how we felt in the light of day.

Fast forward three hours and I felt like a million bucks while Jared's body was beginning to feel to pain of riding a hardtail without a working suspension fork. So I did what stupid people do. I headed out for another lap. Jared and I had slipped back to 4th and 5th overnight, but we still had a chance of staying in the top five. Until my body reminded me halfway through that last (11th) lap why I had gotten off the bike in the first place. I couldn't control the bike. Off the trail left and right. So I limped it back in and asked Jared if he wanted a go. Not a chance.

Jared and I both finished 11 laps, though by finishing his in 13 hours to my 19 he stayed ahead of me in the overall. Jared too 5th and fell to 6th by the 24 hour mark, but by that point we were enjoying delicious burgers and milkshakes a few miles away.

All in all I had a blast and can't wait for next years race. And maybe, just maybe 24 hour worlds a few weeks before that. Now that would be really stupid. Though maybe next year I will flip my number plate if I get 13.

Enjoy doing something stupid.

RIP Kobi

My family lost a very special member today. Kobi was our black lab/malamute mix who had been with us since 2001.

He traveled everywhere we went, usually in the back seat of Suburban with me. He had this nasty habit of letting really ripe farts rip hile back there. He also liked to sneeze in my face. For some reason Rex got her own row.

When we first got Kobi, we had a dog who would come by the River House on the weekends and hang out. He was a purebred black lab named Bubba. If Bubba's name was mentioned, Kobi would jump up and rush to the door to greet his best bud. Even years after Bubba had stopped coming by, Kobi would still perk up at the mention of his name.

Another word that Kobi learned quickly was "pumpkin." And then "p word." And then he finally figured out that if he stared down my mom around 8 pm he would get his heaping spoonful of canned pumpkin for dessert.

During my junior year of high school I came down with whooping cough. One night, after weeks of coughing until I threw up, I coughed so hard that I threw my back out. My phone was out of reach and my parents room was upstairs so I banged on the wall to get their attention (and maybe some ibuprofen). They never heard, but Kobi heard and came down. He knew I was pretty bad off, so he jumped up with me on the bed and curled up next to me. With him there I finally fell asleep.

My little cousin Mikayla grew up with a house full of dogs and cats, but one of her and Kobi's most endearing moments came when she was visiting us. She had straddled Kobi as he lay on the floor, half asleep. She then stuck both hands up his nostrils! Kobi didn't growl or move. He just opened his eyes looked up at me with the "please help me NOW" look. We got Mikayla off of him and he quietly got up and wandered over to the door to be let out, not wanting to deal with us humans any more.

As he progressed in years, he developed some breathing issues and arthritus. And he became about as deaf as door nail. This last issue made life with him all the more amusing sometimes. My mom sometimes wondered if he was deaf or just getting better at selective hearing. During my last visit home he did't hear us come in the house at 4 am. However, after a few minutes of us greeting mom and unloading the car, Kobi poked his head out the bedroom got a goofy grin on his face as he tried to trot over to me. He didn't move as well as he used to. He couldn't go out in the sun because it made his breathing worse. He didn't swim any more. But he could still welcome me home like an old friend.

So here is to an old friend, no longer with us. May you enjoy wherever you are as much as we enjoyed being part of your life. And may Bubba be there to greet you with a heaping dish of pumpkin. Go in peace my dear friend.