Washington Nationals Stadium

Usually a ride on the Metro is a solemn, staid affair as the multitudes slog home from work.  Today's ride, however, included a proselytizing Bible thumper and a blind man who decided to make conversation with his reluctant seatmates.  But I'm not a habitual Metro commuter, as the Purple Line does not yet exist and my daily routine requires me to drive to job sites that are not convenient to public transportation, so I am confined to the 4 wheeled carbon exuding beast as the two wheeled human powered variety also does not lend itself to efficient flitting about.

I use the Metro mostly to go to sporting events, which I often try not to pay for.  All of my glad handing and optimistic friendliness pays off in tickets to Nats, Caps, Skins, Ravens, etc games from friends, relatives, and work contacts that I gladly accept.  Today's dalliance on the Metro, however, revolved not around a game but in fact a tour of the PLACE where these games will be played.

In my workaday job I design buildings, new or of the rehab variety.  These projects are usually small scale to relatively sizeable projects, the current largest one being a 7 story, 130 dwelling unit apartment building with retail on the first level and two levels of subterranean parking.  This is the biggest project I've ever done, and it's multi-disciplined puzzle that reveals itself to me in ways that I can't describe, other than moments of pleasure and terror and everything in between.  Lines I draw can cost people or save people hundreds, thousands, millions, oodles of dollars.  My main goal is to stay on the friendly side of that equation and somehow create a structure that satisfies its users and maybe even provides a level of unexpected appreciation.  So I think that my job is pretty tough.

Until I walked into the behemoth that will be home to the Washington Nationals today.  One of the perks of being a member of the AIA, besides the privilege of paying a ghastly amount of money for dues, is the opportunity to check out monumental buildings under construction.  A little more than a dozen of us, including my esteemed colleague Scott toured the stadium this afternoon and, while I was in Stairwell 38 Level 2.5, I realized that the sheer immensity of a project of this scale, even with the forces required to conceive, design, finance, construct, and maintain this colossus was overwhelming to an unimaginable degree.  I have nothing but admiration for these people, who by force of will (and money) somehow make this thing happen.  

Like all buildings, it has its moments, and it has its complete screw-ups, and many will second guess major design decisions that will be regretted as the building cranks through its lifespan.  The obscene millions spent on the luxurious appointments of those who will spend (literally) thousands of dollars per game to watch (major generalization alert) spoiled millionaires is a tough pill to swallow, but unavoidable.  The gametime experience will be cool, just because the sightlines and the care in designing the relationship between field and fan was carefully considered, but there will be many bugs to work out in the getting to and going home from department.  Despite the jillions of dollars and hours spent on this project, this becomes another opportunity for the general public to once again gather in a place that can foster a sense of civic togetherness.  And while we're all singing Kumbaya, let's realize that the stadium is perched across the river from a part of DC that many people shun.  Maybe this building will change that perception, as it's really not that bad "east of the river" as Fox 5 says.

One hundred and thirty units?  Piece of cake.

Dream On

One of the routines lately at the House of Frites is to all "do our homework" together.  All in the same general area, tap tappin' on the keyboard(s), working out the pre-algebra, reviewing drawings, reading, whatever the case may be.  Sometimes the quiet is required, other times some background music is appropriate.  It's a mellow way to end the day.  Once this is done I get in the requisite hour on the bike and drop into the arms of morpheus, after which we begin the daily cycle anew. 

The music of choice on this evening and the previous few has been Side One of Aerosmith Dream On, their first foray into the land of LP's.  Cut in 1973, it predates my kids by nearly a quarter century, but now they're hooked.  I am a happy dude (dad).

I grew up with Aerosmith.  Not the reconstituted, smarmy, ballad yelping, Sanjaya accompanying, gag me with a spoon version.  The real McCoy.  Pre 1990 (I'll accept Permanent Vacation but that was the threshold of the transition into their current pop iteration) they were the epitome of the pre-hair rock bands that we all grew up with, and the deeper tracks in the earlier albums are crunchy and quite delectable in their own bluesy ways.  They even had a Hirschfeld album cover--now that's makin' it in the '70's.

Aaanywho, my 9 y.o daughter has gotten hooked as the overlay song in the credits to Miracle (which she is also hooked on) is, of course, "Dream On."   So now we listen to this song umpteen times a night, although I am stern in requiring that "Make It" and "Somebody", the preceding tracks, and "One Way Street", the following track, be played in conjunction, as I have this album engraved in my head before "shuffling" ever became a part of our lexicon.  Ergo these songs must be played in sequence--a valuable lesson that today's generation must learn, as every album tells a story and to interrupt the flow is to ruin the narrative.

Not really.  I'm just obsessive that way.  Fact remains I'm 42 and the kids are into Aerosmith.  More albums to follow...wait 'til they discover Pandora's Box...

Uncle

There are times when the brilliance around me is overwhelming.  This is once of those days.  This post and this other one (especially the last paragraph) make it hard for me to write, as their respective styles make it all seem easy, not unlike being passed on a hill so as to feel like I'm standing still...

These guys always nail it.

Rearranging the slices of the time pie

As I age I realize just how exponentially faster time passes, as the daily and weekly routine accelerates the sensation of the years slipping away. Looking back, the last twenty years seem like flashes of events that I only make sense of in the context of touchstones. Birthdays, holidays, births, deaths--these are constant and spontaneous reference points that compile and seem to compress the passage of days. Counter this with the years between college and when my shift into a life routine began, and these days seemed interminable. I guess the uncertainty of where I was going actually created a decelerating feeling.

I say this because my weekend with my cousins was a great way to look back. They live in New York, and we see them infrequently. But when we do, like all good relationships, we pick up where we left off and it's as if we live in the same neighborhood. The only evidence of time passing are our physical changes.

While I love having family visit, it really does wreak havoc on my precious routine. As I am on a quest for being the best bike racer in our house, this interruption of my Eastern European (read "the latest training fad") regimen is quite a quandary. It brings to mind the 24 hour pie that is our day, and the various ways we slice it. Usually I save the largest slice for myself on Saturday and Sunday mornings, where I galavant off with others who either take this racing thing seriously or just like to ride in a big group. The rest of the pie slices are allotted to the various commitments we make, which, in the end, are often more important. Like eating.

So on a weekend that I commit to my family and extended family, when do I ride? Especially this weekend, which was pretty awesome for a usually drab February. By ferrying people around and depositing them in various places, I am able to execute my nefarious plan to carve a different slice of the same pie for some "me and Eddy (the bike)" time. Only one problem. I have to make sure that I get back in time to pick these various people up and deposit them in their various new locales and/or arrange for dinner etc.

Let's just say I'm not so good at the latter. I'd like to call it "a work in progress".

Despite my clumsiness I was somehow able to make it all work out this weekend and got in two solid rides with my friend Kemal, the second of which I did some power testing that corroborates my previous findings that I am still not where I want to be. Unlike my known and unknown blogging/cycling aficionados who train with power I will not be publishing these numbers, as no one wants to see such small things.

I can empirically state, however, that I can crush anyone in my house (even the cats).

Why do we do it?

My cousin's husband and daughter are in town.  Cuz gets here tomorrow, for a good weekend of visiting and catching up.

They took the Chinatown bus from NYC, and met me at my office by closing time, so I was able to give them a ride home.  Karl is a great writer, musician, and overall good guy.  He's also quite fond of the two wheeled variety of transportation and is active in the Alternative Transportation movement up in Brooklyn.  Not quite Critical Mass, but close.  He uses his bike to commute and tour, but does not dabble in the racing scene.

Which made for good conversation tonight, especially as we watched the Tour of California.  We talked about the commitment that these guys have as pros, and how much training one has to commit to, etc.  I mentioned that the ironic attraction about bike racing is that you have to work really hard just to suck, unless you're a freak of nature.

This was on my mind because Fat Marc posted a similar thought earlier today, quite eloquently in fact.  This was then reinforced by Mr. Gamjams himself, who stated it in less colloquial terms than I did.  I think we all try to make sense of why we train and rationalize it as required, as the long road season has started.  In some cases this is just the preseason for 'cross.  Karl then connected the analogy to his efforts to become a better jazz guitarist...work hard, though no matter what you do, there's always someone out there that makes you feel like a rank amateur.

Regardless, I found it interesting that we all came to similar conclusions at about the time the lunar eclipse occurred.  Coincidence?  I think not.

Transitions

About 26 years ago or so I was a stranger in a brand new school.  This isn't unique, by any stretch, though I happened to be starting anew in a new high school as a senior.

My dad was serving a post in the Philippines with the US Embassy.  After three years, he had the chance to move us back to the US, where I could settle into a high school for 2 years before going off to college.  Or he could extend to four years, knowing that I would only have one year in high school at a new locale.  Five years was not an option for him, career-wise.  For me the choice was clear.  Being the optimist that I am, I said let's stay here as long as possible--surely he could finagle that fifth year, I could hang with my cousins for another year, and I could graduate with my friends from my high school, and glory days blah blah blah.

Not.

So I'm sitting in this new high school in Arlington VA on the first day, a complete stranger, among kids who (in most cases) were together since elementary school.  I felt like a complete tool, and figured it was going to be a long year.  Sitting in front of me in homeroom was this quiet and nondescript guy named Tom.  It was clear to me that he wasn't the most popular dude in school.  He wasn't unpopular, either, just someone who kept to himself.  In that first day, he helped me get my feet under me and, while he never became a good friend, he was quite a good acquaintance.  Because of him the year didn't turn out too badly, in fact it was quite memorable on many levels.

I recount this because I ran into Tom today in Bethesda, as he quietly works in one of the nondescript high rises on Wisconsin Avenue for a mortgage company.  I've seen him once or twice in the past, and talked with him at our high school reunion 5 years ago, and can only surmise that he's a bit of a loner making a decent living who has a good family around him, and seems to be doing fine.  We made some small talk, and I know I'll see him again sometime, in downtown B-town.

Next time I'll be sure to thank him for helping me out, way back when.

A Tuesday in February

If you can make any sense of the pics and captions in my previous post, good for you.  This Blogger interface and I aren't getting along to well right now, with respect to the old graphics and text. 

In a few minutes I'll be spinning on the bike watching the T of C, nice and easy.  I'm still feeling the load from the last week in my lower body, so this rest week is most welcome.  Sunday night I got in a solid eight, something I haven't done in a long time.  Sound sleep is never overrated.

Every once in a while I run into my friend Chris C. in Bethesda, who rides for Silver Cycles, though doesn't race much anymore.  I think his brother still races, though I don't know him.  Chris and Ben L. helped me out when I first started this cyclocross thing a few years ago--they showed me a few skills and I picked it up pretty quick.   I'll always remember that and now I pass along that knowledge gained whenever the chance presents itself.  Despite road riding and racing, we concurred that 'cross is where it's at, especially because of the TIME factor, which is a vicious reality as it is already near the end of February (remember seeing Levi go down in last year's Santa Rosa stage at the T of C within 3K of the finish?  Seems like yesterday.  Time do fly).

Anyway I saw him this morning and we shot the breeze for a while, then headed off to work.    It's always a good thing to run into those that we meet on the road in our everyday lives, since, while cycling is what links most of us, over time it becomes less important as we discover the different facets of our personalities.

So it's been a quiet week at work so far, and work on Monday felt like a Saturday due to the holiday.  Today was relatively quiet too.  Let's see if the rest of the week follows suit.

Ta ta for now.