Nashville Haiku

Em and I drove to Nashville.

'Hated the music,

but loved spending time with Em.

Open Letter to the Random Person Who Just Bought Me a Latte at Starbucks

Thank you to the random person who bought my tall Latte at Starbucks. Anymore, it is a big decision for me to spend $3.18 on a coffee so your act of generosity meant a lot. I feel bad I didn't even bother to look at you up there in the car ahead of me. I did look at your car, a Black Malibu. I looked at your car because I couldn't help but noticed how long it took you to order, creep up to the window, and pay. I wondered what it would be like to live in a world where one had so much free time that they could drag out buying a cup of coffee. I pulled right up on your ass after you paid to encourage you to move forward a little faster, went to pay the Starbucks guy, and he said you bought my coffee. I'm touched but I feel like a prick.

I'm really not a prick. I was all worked up over trying to get Emilie the perfect Christmas gift. She wanted a guitar which seemed simple enough. I haven't looked at guitars since I was her age but I work with so many techs that play, I thought I would be a guitar expert in no time. They all went into so much detail that I was lost. I guess I know how they feel when they come to me for advice on buying a bicycle. I was told what type of tuner to get. I didn't even know what a tuner was. I thought you just tuned the E string with a tuning fork then tuned all the other strings based on that. The techs laughed; that's how they did it 30 years ago. And going into Guitar Center was stressful. The salesman knew I didn't know what I was talking about and that I have no passion for guitars. He rolled his eyes when I asked about the $79 guitar and he explained why I needed to drop over $200 on one. I guess I now know how it feels going into a bike shop when you aren't that into into bicycling. $200 was more than I could spend so I looked on Craigs List and found a perfect Fender acoustic guitar across the state. I know it was a good deal because in the time it took me to drive there, he sold it to someone else.

And while I was waiting behind you at Starbucks, my sister emailed me and asked if I sent out a Christmas letter. She has really been pushing me to send out a letter this year, she even sent me a list of addresses. My sister has much more social grace than me so no, I didn't send out any letters. I tried. Nothing that has happened this year looks right on watermark paper framed in a holly boarder. I know, I tried to spin it.

But don't you worry none, random coffee buying person, it is good now. I got Emilie a kick ass Fender acoustic guitar and I'm starting to work on my Christmas letter for next year which I promise will be every bit a vain as any letter I received this month. The free coffee just adds to my optimism. Thank you again and really, I am sorry for pushing you out of my way; I hope you put it in context.

Prometheus

I have been doing an indoor Thursday night group ride in an effort to break up the monotony of riding alone in my apartment and to encourage myself to ride harder than I have been. My motivation when riding alone seems to be waning and I don’t want a repeat of last season, or the one before that, or the 14 previous seasons. It’s helping. Possibly.

Allie said I am always riding. Clearly few, if anyone, I race against follows a more half ass, low volume training plan than me but her observation hurt so I’m making an effort to only work out when the girls aren’t home or when they are sleeping. Waking up at 4:00 to go to the gym is fun and all but I’m averaging less than five hours of sleep a night. When the alarm goes off, I feel like Prometheus being woken up by an eagle pecking at his liver.

Prometheus, for anyone who didn’t pay attention in their junior high Greek Mythology class, was the Titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to mankind. This pissed off Zeus so he chained Prometheus to a rock where a giant eagle would peck out his liver every day. His liver would grow back at night just in time for the eagle to come back and peck it out again. I think Prometheus did what he thought was right, it’s just that most decisions have unanticipated consequences.

Losing a Child to Adolescents Part II

Kevin and I made plans to ride today. Crazy nice weather lately (that is, no significant snow and my Camelbak doesn't immediately freeze solid) lulled me into thinking this was a realistic plan. It's raining so I will ride the trainer instead. I find if I ride indoors by natural light and with a fan blowing in front of me, it is every bit as good as riding outside.

Who am I trying to fool; this sucks.

Emilie and Allie and I went skating yesterday. It was nice. Em seemed more interested in the hockey players than in skating. Two years ago I saw I was losing her to adolescents so I suppose I don't have the right to be distraught.

Allie went to 6th grade camp last week. She came back with a fear of snakes and an appreciation for indoor plumbing.

And her first boyfriend.

We had a good time skating last night. I have skated with Emilie before but this was my first time with Allie. She had to hold my hand the whole time so as not to fall on her ass. I remember when she insisted on holding my hand all the time.

2011 Iceman

I did my 14th Iceman earlier this month. An excellent time but another poor result, which would have hurt my feelings if I had any expectations, fortunately I didn’t. I haven’t even pretended to train since the snow melted last spring; no lack of desire, just collateral damage from a long, complicated year. I’m seriously looking forward to next season. There is something warmly satisfying with putting an awful season behind you and starting fresh.

I miss the rural setting of Brighton but I’m adapting just fine living smack dab in the middle of Canton. Lots of cars and the roads and MTB trails around here suck but none of that really means anything. I enjoy riding and I’m as optimistic as ever; not the kind of optimism that is grounded in reality but the kind that transcends it. The kind that lends itself to a discussion I just had:

Me: “I’m having a rough day, I’m treating myself to a delicious and nutritious McRib.”

Sue: “Ooh McRib-gross? Does it taste like rib?

Me: “Yes, it tastes like ribs but I don’t know if there is even any pig in it at all. It’s proprietary.”

Sue: “It is an odd pressed shaped patty…”

Me: “As opposed to the naturally shaped Filet-O-Fish sandwich and Chicken McNuggets? You have very high expectations.”

The Surreal World of San Francisco

I was in San Francisco last week for work. My only exposure to this area previously was from watching Full House with my daughters, and that show, as it turns out, paints a terribly distorted picture. San Francisco is amazing, in its own, bizarre, way. I would have stayed longer if it were practical.

We rented hybrids from one of the stands that caters to tourists. Not my first choice of bicycles but the riding was good. We rode across the Golden Gate Bridge, windy and foggy, down into Sausalito which was warm and sunny.

We rode through the Golden Gate Park where a Tour de Fat bicycle festival was going on.

I have never seen so many bicycles. And every bike was unique.

Very unique.

I was amazed with the food in L.A. the last time I was in California. San Francisco somehow raises the bar. I ordered tea in a Chinese restaurant. They put a dead, dried up flower bud in boiling water. The bud opened up into a bright red flower as it slowly sunk to the bottom of the cup. Apparently the flower was the tea. Maybe I am easily amazed. Regardless, it was excellent.

The tables in San Francisco restaurants tend to be close together so you inadvertently hear other’s conversations. Sitting next to us on our last night was a surfer dude, his beautiful Norwegian wife, and her parents who were apparently visiting from Norway. Half the conversation was in Norwegian but from what I could make out, the parents were asking them to move to Norway. Surfer dude explained why, for numerous reason, San Francisco was the greatest city in the world. While he was explaining how clean the city was, the person I was having dinner with described a homeless transvestite she saw defecating in a flower pot in front of a shop. I suppose San Francisco is difficult to see objectively.

You Don't Know Me At All, Maybe

I did a training ride last week, two hours at my aerobic threshold. If I could do more than one training ride a month, I might be on to something. This blog started as a training tool, as if publishing goals and a plan to get there would somehow make it happened. It helped. I am going to try to nudge this blog back in that direction. Later.

Somehow I don’t fully realize real people read my blog. I am taken back when someone introduces themselves at a bike race and say they read my blog. I met Ali B, who I only knew through her blog, at the Log Splitter race last year. She looked at my result then looked at me and said: “You did well, I mean, you don’t suck as much as you imply in your blog.” Or something like that; I was star stuck and not really listening. Things have gone downhill since then and now I really do suck as much as I imply, possibly worse.

After a particularly whiney post about how all my friends have road bikes and I don’t, Bob, who only knows me through my blog, offered me his Giant TT road bike for just a token price. I didn’t take him up on his kind offer but was touched by his generosity

Emilie and I went on a ten hour road trip to Ohio yesterday to deliver Sally to her new home. This provided a good opportunity to really talk to Em. I also used this time to expand her musical horizons. I can’t get her to budge from this horrible Country Music genre so I tried to expose her to good Country Music; difficult to find at best. I like Lyle Lovett, Cowboy Junkies, and Patty Griffin enough. Em wasn’t impressed. I even played Mary Chapin Carpenter who is more mainstream Country but sometimes uses big, three syllable words, like “perilous”. Nope. It left Emilie more convinced that I haven’t a clue. She is only 13 and will figure out on her own that the best music isn’t on the radio. Or maybe I haven’t a clue. I don’t even know anymore.

Mary kindly offered to take Sally. Mary is a clever girl and apparently figured out through my posts that I am not in a great position to take care of a pet. I struggled so hard to find a good home for my Yamaha RD350LC that finding a home for our family dog seemed impossible. I figured out through Mary’s posts that she is a unique dog person and my best option. It is just a trial right now; Sally can be difficult.

Emilie cried when we left Sally at Mary’s. I wanted to make Em feel better. Sushi was the only thing I could think of. After a round of normal Sushi (Shrimp, Tuna, and Salmon), Em suggested we get Sea Urchin. I honestly didn’t know Sea Urchin was eatable. I’m still not convinced it is. Neither of us could eat it but we laughed hard as we tried. That was worth the $6.95. We were still laughing as we walked to my truck in the parking lot. I think everyone will be fine.