Derek and Eric

The group ride thing has not been a high priority lately, as my perceived lack of conditioning quickly turns such rides into more solo affairs. So instead of being on time for the traditional Saturday morning N2, I roll out at a more leisurely pace and figure I'll see who I see on the roads and maintain some sort of reasonable tempo. I'm a pretty social person, so this streak of introvertedness (introversion? introvertishness?) is somewhat strange.

Saturday turned out to be a great day, and a solid ride. One my way I met up with my friend Derek, who I haven't seen in person in a long time. I see him at least a couple of time a week on TV, though, and we became friends as I stuck with him when he had "a day without" and he returned the favor when I had a flat one time. We became familiar as one does in these group rides, learning snippets of the lives of the people around us. We caught up some, and I figure I'll see him more now that I'm back on the bike fairly regularly.

Toward the end of the ride I started chatting with Eric, a guy out on his own loop. He was pretty strong, and we talked about taking advantage of the time out on the road. He called these 2 hours on the bike "his peace". I peeled off and headed home, thinking about these old and new acquaintances, realizing that the two wheels beneath all of us were the common threads of 3 different lives and lifestyles, but that which tied us together for a few minutes on a Saturday.

Bounty

I am lucky to be married to the granddaughter of a real farmer.

One of the rituals of summer has been a trip up to pick berries (black and rasp) at a farm in Biglerville PA. The harvest of nature's candy is then canned into jams at my in-laws place in Carlisle. On the way back, stops at an orchard and farmers market yield silly amounts of peaches, plums, corn, and apples. Add that on top of our very own summer vegetable harvest, and the countertop looks like this (the double sink is full of peaches and apples):

I do nothing to contribute here, other than eat. If the end of days is nigh, we will have plenty of jam and fruity snacks, and veggies to see us through.

Back to the grind

The annual family vacation to the Outer Banks of North Carolina is now in my rear view mirror. Good recharge time, got a lot of sleeping accomplished. I think I resolved lots of things, but many more questions were raised in the process. I guess life's done if you are no longer asking and answering questions. My backlog means I've got lots of living to do.

Three women

This is a major downer of a post, so go away. You've been warned.

I've alluded to the fact that I've been going through a rough patch lately, mainly having to do with narcissistic thoughts and selfish tendencies that don't amount to much more than irritating background noise and a clouded vision of where I am and where I've been.

It is so miniscule compared to the events of this week, in which real sadness, raw and expected, took place on three separate levels, among the thousands of other losses that take place daily. Cancer claimed the lives of 3 women who are connected to me in disparate ways. The ex-president of the Philippines, the wife of a blogger I don't even know, and my friend's mom.

I think I met Cory Aquino once, when I was younger, as my parents were friends with that family and spent some time with them during their exile in the U.S. Couldn't really get to know them when we lived in the Philippines because Ninoy was in jail. Kind of hard to have a Sunday BBQ when the husband is incarcerated for "treasonous crimes". When he came back to the Philippines he was immediately assassinated, and 3 years later his wife became president. Because of her efforts an entire nation rose up against a tyrannical little man and provided hope for democracy movements in other countries. "People Power" is a household term that is due to her persistence.

Susan in this guy's wife and mother to 4, from all accounts, good kids. His blog was the first I ever read and got me started on this online journalizing. Her fight against this wasting disease provided a platform for her husband to raise awareness and money - over $500,000 so far. Over 2,000 comments in the posting of his wife's passing attest to the care that this awareness has garnered from the electronic community. Far better tributes to this family can be found here and here, among other places for sure.

Mrs. A is my neighbor and friend's mom, who just passed this week. She's the only one of the three that I really know, and not that well. But I do know her through her daughter, who is one of our dearest friends, whose love for her own family spreads to ours daily, as our kids are fast friends with theirs.

Three different women, all loved by casts of thousands, all taken by this awful disease. Eight years ago three other women I know fought and beat cancer, and I am thankful for the fight that my mom, my aunt, and my sister in law undertook.

I hope next week will be better.

A sound decision

So I was with a client yesterday at the DDOT kiosk at DCRA in downtown DC helping her fill out some permit applications, chatting about work. She mentioned to me that her staff is dwindling, as people are finding different paths to their lives and moving on. I casually mentioned "I've made a personal decision that will greatly relieve some accumulated stress in the upcoming months." She shot me this look of guarded apprehension, not knowing what would come next. Leaving my job? Getting separated? Skipping off to the Canadian Rockies? I could tell her wheels were turning because she works for a Boston based non profit that is known for high turnover, is completely intense, and is coming off a divorce.

"I won't be coaching my daughter's soccer team in the fall or spring." She looked at me with just a little bit of derision, probably figuring that this is a minor blip compared to work, relationships, and life; so minor that it doesn't warrant much consideration. Don't blame her one bit--it really doesn't seem like much.

Until you do it, and ladle it on top of work, relationships, and life. Having coached kids soccer for over 4 years, it's really not difficult at all. What's hard is managing the time, between games and mid-week practices and communicating with all the parents, including those that don't have the greatest command of English (glad I know Spanish), or somehow insist on following the schedule of another team and calling me repeatedly wondering why the team isn't at the field.

So the fall suddenly feels a bit more open. We'll still go to the games, cheer them on, enjoy the other families and the moments too. It's a bit of found time that will keep on reappearing every week.

Back on the bike

My new ritual (3 years running now) is to rent a bike at Kitty Hawk Cycle Company so I can get some miles in when I'm not frolicking at the beach with everyone. I guess I'm supporting the local economy, since I choose not to bring my own bike down, which, while extremely possible, is a pain in the ass.

I called Mike on Friday to ask him to reserve a bike for me, to which he replied he couldn't have one for me until Sunday, since his cycle works Sunday to Saturday, and we get there on Friday. So I'll miss the Saturday group ride...big deal. Until he says "But I'll lend you mine, so you can ride on Saturday". He rides a 53, I'm typically a 54, so for a day I'm golden. Now THAT'S how to guarantee repeat business.

To riff on the word repeat, it's now time to repeat riding daily so that I can get some respectable miles in before Charm City (seven weeks away) and the ensuing 'cross season. It's finally clicking, even though I'm still slow and have no snap, I'm ready to train seriously again. I guess I needed a 9 month layoff to resolve some other things jangling around, and this will start fitting together again.

Saturday was a great ride in the park with Kelly and Trevor, after which we were joined by Lee, Carol, and George. I was way late for the N2 and thought I'd pick it up on the return leg, but I'm glad I missed it as this edition featured 4 riders down, with three to the hospital. No major injuries, but definitely a bummer for those affected. Riding with Lee is a bonus, since I haven't seen him on the road in a long time, and look forward to some more time riding with him.

Sunday was one of those clarifying, intensely mellow affairs which featured a good soaking pretty much from the start. Warm summer rains are great to ride in, since senses are heightened more acutely than normal. Rooster tails and road grit in the eyes, sweat mixed with rain, a little more space between each other. And funny, too, when you have to tell the guy in front of you to not use so much detergent next time he washes his kit--the suds coming out of this guy's shorts made his hindquarters look rabid.

Later in the afternoon we rode to Wheaton Park with a group of girl scouts, a short little trip that only took out one little brother, as he couldn't quite negotiate a sharp turn at the bottom of the hill on the trail. Got up quick, though, and I reassured him that crashing on wet pavement is a helluvalot better than dry. He'll probably feel it in his bones tonight, but at least he won't be sticking to the sheets.

45 years...and counting

One day in July of 1964 a man got on a plane in Argentina and made a long trip north, to the west coast of the U S of A. He then boarded another plane and skipped across the Pacific, via Hawaii and Guam, to arrive in Manila, the Philippine Islands. Tracking northward from the southern hemisphere and then westward across a vast ocean was a long trip in those days...long, not so comfortable, noisy, bumpy, as jets were only in commercial air service for 6 years by this time. In the two trips I've made to the Philippines in the past 10 years from the east coast I've always counted on 30 hours, real bed to real bed. It's a tiring trip even now, and considering that this man travelled the two legs of a triangle to get there, it must have been even more taxing then.

Arriving in Manila wasn't the end of the journey, however. He still had to negotiate a flight to one of the Visayan Islands by going to the domestic terminal in the sweltering heat, the unruly crowds, the strange smells and cacophonous noise. The stewardess on the plane passed around a basket which had a hand lettered sign requesting that all firearms be deposited for the duration of the flight--you'll get your gun back when you land. The last leg of the trip was coming to an end.

Several days of parties welcomed this stranger to a strange land, a loving family willing to take him in, dozens of siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and relatives of the woman he was to marry. They met in college here at Georgetown U, fell in love, and decided to spend the rest of time together. The wedding was beautiful, and from all accounts a lavish party. I only see it from the black and white filter of the wedding album that my sisters and I would look at when we were younger.

But while virtually every wedding that I know of is populated by relatively equal numbers of family from both sides of the aisle, this man was literally the only person from his family at his wedding. It was financially not possible for anyone in his family from Braddock Pa. make this trip, and while finances were a major limitation, I'm certain that the culture shock and journey into the unknown was as much of a deterrent. Travel just wasn't very facile those days, and certainly not for such a long distance to such an exotic place. His best man was one of my uncles, and in case he got cold feet legend has is that one of the relatives known for his proclivity to be less than faithful to his wife had a car and plane on standby for an escape. I think this was exaggerated family lore, and due to sound decision making on dad's part I am able to recount all of this.

This is a staggering concept, to travel such long distances, to commit so fully to someone that you trust that you willingly leave the umbrella of safety and comfort that your own family offers. To become a member of a new family halfway across the world required an enormous leap of faith and a journey far more precipitous in what was then unknown.

Thanks Mom and Dad for making that leap, and HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!