Chapter Next.

As many of you know, I've been in limbo.  For over a year.  Doing stuff, not necessarily sitting on my ass, drinking beer, watching tv all day long.  Actually, I have drank a lot of beer, sat on the couch lots, and watch a lot of tv.  However, it's usually an occassional out somewhere to drink some beers with friends a few days a week;  usually DVR of Comedy Central Presents, Mythbusters, Dirty Jobs or maybe some Modern Marvels.  Yes, I stiill watch the technically-swayed shows; maybe it's because that's what I know.  I'm not much for the drama, reality, the Oprah or Ellen, or Montel, or the whos-yo-daddy society degrading shows.  And actually, as of late, it's the drug induced cartoons of Adult Swim, specifically Robot Chicken and Aquateen Hungerforce. And the always entertaining, "Stupid Monkey."  (If you do watch Robot Chicken, you know you absolutely look forward to Stupid Monkey just as I do).   I digress.

And I do sit on the couch.  More often than not, however, it's after a bike ride of usually significant amounts of consistent exertion of effort to make a bike go forward.  Yesterday's venture consisted of almost 40 miles, 2.5 hours of ride time (not counting breaks) in 95 degree weather, give or take a few degrees.  I would have probably plopped down on the couch afterwards, but my friend taunted me with heading somewhere to drink some beers; and hear some good live music.  So, I did.  No couch yesterday.

For the last year, less the most recent month, I've enjoyed the heck out of things.  I took some savings, and made the decision to take some time off from trying to be productive, trying the same thing with the expectation of something different (definition of insanity), with the expectation of maybe finding, discovering, and changing enough to make the difference in the next-go-around.

I must say, I think I've learned a lot about myself.  I took the risk to find the truth about me; what made me happy, what didn't; try and realize a fault or two, and do what I could do about them; discover the things that I sacrifice that I shouldn't have, and learn how to not sacrifice them next time.  No more pushover. No more yes man no matter what.  More Confident.  More assertive. Or maybe I just needed to grow up More.

The last month has reminded me, and in some cases, returned my mind back to Hell, or said another way, life.  Well, maybe my previous life.   It has reminded me because I am starting to have to make decisions that I have been able to avoid for awhile; namely, employement and financial.

My roommate works in the industry to which I swore I would not return.  He reminds me occassionally of the things that he experiences that I absolutely came to hate.  Stupidity and total disregard for the reasonable.  The unlogical.  The wholly unrealistic.  The blatent disrespect for honesty.  The you-will-do-this-because-I-have-power-over-you-and-you-can't-do-a-fu*#ing-thing-about-it mentality. 

I might have to bite my tongue.  I might have to go back.  And maybe test the waters.  Go back to the work, the specific type of work that I never thought I would even consider again.  I got a call this morning about a potential job opportunity.  We'll see.  I wasn't pissed immediately. It wasn't an immediate kick to the head. And I'd be stupid to not consider the oppurtnity strictly based on my past, and the person I used to be.

There are some things to consider. 

First, my neighbor J got me talking this morning, and I blurted out, "doesn't really matter what I do, it's the people I work with that does it for me." True. If the people fit me well enough, then I enjoy it.  Just back me up, don't hang me out to dry, teach me a little, let me run with it.  Respect me and I'll respect you.  So, the possiblity of success, or rather, not total failure from the getgo, is possible.  That should be determined early on.

Second, I've had a year to analyze what went wrong.  I feel that I have learned something, and maybe a bit more.  I've learned, largely, that I've been walked on, or rather have allowed the walking to happen.  I've even provided the shoes, and in some cases, cleats.  I assumed that people wouldn't do that.  No longer.  I've been thinking and working and training and learning to be more assertive, more proactive.  Yeah, I'll come work for you, but what do I get from it?   How much do I make now? (I used to tell them.)  Now, How much does the position pay?  You tell me that, and I'll decide if I want to help you.  Oh, and you require overtime?  Great. Pay me for it.  Let's talk about that and decide some of those things up front.  Let's make some expectations. And I'll write them down, and you write them down too, and let's make us both accountable.  That way when crunch time comes, we both agree and we both win.

Third, I'm gonna have to start again working anyway, doing something at least, or stop spending money.  Actually, wasting money.  Lots.  Exactly the reason, or a big one, maybe, why I'm divorced.  Now that I'm having to make decisions again, financial ones anyway, there's a new appreciation for what I have not every paid attention to, because frankly, I just never had to.  There's a bit of different motivation.  See if I can put to use what I have learned with money coming in.

So thus begins another Chapter.  The next one.  The first chance to see if I learned anything, see if what I think I can do, the different attitude, is possible.  Real world testing.  It may be time.  If it happens. 

Dont fret, though; they know about my commitments for road trip.  And I will not sacrifice that for anyone.

Maybe I've finally grown some.  Maybe I will make it mine just a little bit, just enough this time to not kneejerk.  Maybe I won't have the same reactions.  Or the same mind-job bullshit to make me screw the working world.  Hopefully my proactiveness will fight off the world.  Or at least the next Hugh.

We'll see.

Use your Noodle, Peeps, Volume 1.

This past weekend my Dad and I were watching TV, and he had the news on, which is not normally something I watch.

They had a story about a 5 year old (yes, 5) and his Mommy had him 'mock' arrested by the Sheriff's Department because he 'needed a lesson about playing with matches.'

The Cops came out in a Sheriffs car, read the kid his rights, put him in kiddie cuffs (I'm assuming they have those) and hauled him off.

I've got a better solution:  Use your Head (a.k.a. NOODLE) that God gave you, and A) beat the kid senseless (my personal favorite, because Damn, sometimes I sure needed it growing up) or B) TAKE THE MATCHES AWAY. 

Mom:  "But this isn't the first time he's done it." Then you're an IDIOT, Mom.  Seriously.  Hide the matches.  It's called being smarter than a kid.  I'm questioning you on this one.  There's drain branmage there somewheres.  Gots ta be, chicky dee.

Then I have to look at the coppers.  Did they think this is a great idea?  Hey, let's go arrest, or just fake arrest, a 5 year old. Great idea, Gomer. If my parents would have thought that jewel up, I'd probably have gone on a hellbent mission to find those damn matches again so I could ride in the poh-lease car a second time (my parents did hide matches HIGHER THAN I COULD REACH after I played with 'em, THEN I got my ass beat). Fortunately, I learned.  Not sure this kid learned anything, much less Mom learning anything.  Seriously. Cause I guess when this kid gets older, maybe we'll call the Feds when he's not behaving in school.  Yeah, that's it.  Get ready Feds, Johnny doesn't want to go to Study hall.  Prison time.  Gotta teach the little hoodlum, cause yeah, this one has history - arrested at 5 for attempted arson.  Yeah Problem kid we got here.  Grab the drugs.

I'm gonna have to make a list of these.  There's some good stuff out there;  it's like a fart so good you can taste it.  There's a whole novel waiting, and I bet this is just the intro.

#1 in the front, #2 in the back.

Heh.

Warning:  This one is chocked full.  Read at your own peril.

Seriously.

My neighbor J was over yesterday, and had her beloved dog in tow, just like always.  She has become a great friend, and we have learned a lot about friendships and life in general in the last few months.  I have decided that unique is not just a better, more respectful word for my friend J than weird, although weird is just as accurate as an adjective; they both apply.

Tonight, for example, she came over with a conglomeration of stuffs, and started to ransack the freezer for whatever frozen vegetables were hiding out and were calling out to her to throw into the pot.  You would have to understand our relationship to understand why this is behavior not just totally fine with me, but, in part, is just the weird unexpected unpredictable side of J.

Ok, so back to yesterday.  It had been an ok day, then I heard the knock on the door.  Except I didn't hear it as a knock, I just heard it as a sound, and before I could investigate, my cell rang.  "Are you awake?"  "Yes, I'm awake, it's 11 o'clock.  Where are you?"  "At your front door."  Once again, normal for her and totally acceptable for me. 

I open the door, and in comes J with her dog.  She (the dog) knows my house, my roommate, where her impromptu water dish is by the trash in the kitchen, and is just mostly comfortable in my house most of the time. On this afternoon, she began to wimper, and on the chance that she had to go to the bathroom again (I learned she just peed in the front yard before entering the house), the back patio door was opened, and she instantly went outside and proceeded to crap in my backyard. 

J:  "I guess she goes #1 in the front and #2 in the back."

Humans do that.  So do dogs.  And cats. And lots of other things.  And there's not a damn thing we can do about it.  Piss comes out the front and crap comes out the back.  We cannot stop it. 

I've been implementing some things I've blogged about in past posts in my everyday life: communicating better; becoming more aware; risking more truth; risking honesty.  I've implemented some of these items for a pretty good amount of time, and some are beginning to pay off, or at least they appear that way.

A recent event gave me the opportunity to evaluate the next big chunk of whatever that is probably most pressing, but not particularly so, if that makes any sense.  It's not a crisis. It kind of feels more like a oil change, check the fluids, evaluate if it needs a tune up, you know, just a general preventative maintenance type of event.

I didn't really know how the decision to wait at least from about this time, to a time in about a year, give or take, before committing to the next relationship of exclusivity would affect things right off.  I.e., single for a year, buddy.  This idea evidently came out of me over beers one night, and everyone knows that sometimes you speak the truth under beers; I didn't remember uttering something resembling a 'maybe I should take a year off from relationships...' but someone called me on it, and after considering it, it felt like a good time to give it a try.

I got caught off guard about a week ago when someone asked me why. I risked my thoughts, the truth, the raw thoughts with this person over a period of a day or so, with good back-and-fourth non judgemental, inquisitive discussion. And now that I've had about a week to ponder, it is feeling like this is required coursework for the next step:  Assertiveness without arrogance. I.e:  discover what the hell happened first before proceeding forward.

Lunch conversation with two friends and another conversation by blackberry messenger (love it, btw) primed me for a ranting about how I expected to find the perfect job.  I vented.  Don't get walked on anymore.  Open mouth.  Interview the employer too.  Make them work for you as much as you work for them.  Demand more. Establish goals.  Do Better.   Modify the path to your liking when at all possible.  Make it yours.  Then I was asked if I was still talking about jobs.

Heh.  Yeah.  Full on job talk.  Right?  Oh wait.  Let me go back.  Hm.  Yeah, I can see that....wow. 

Maybe the year off dating long term commitments will answer the question of why I've thought 'I shouldn't be in a relationship right now....' occassionally in the past few.  Maybe I needed to tag-team the job discussion and the relationship discussion at the same time.  This just feels right.  Well, at least the part of it all that doesn't scare the shit out of me feels right.  Or different. Or maybe just, well, relieving.

I'm already reaping benefits from my relationship hiatus.  I can assure you that I'm riding the emotional roller coaster big time through all the loop-de-loops and hairpin turns, and even though those emotions seem to be straight front in the front of my mind, it's relief and excitement I feel for the future.  The stress, or the weight of commitments that I usually carry, seems removed. 

Probably the greatest thing I have realized is that I can think about and enjoy today.  Taking a break for a year simply means that I don't feel like I have to analyze the future, the what-about-this one long term?  What if this works out?  Is that gonna be a problem?  What if this?  How about that?  That stuff.  Right now time off of the long term thoughts if you will; the analysis of everything except the short term- not even considered.

How comforting.  Enjoy the now.  That might be what all this is about.  A break from my analytical mind analyzing the future.

That way, too, maybe I can have the capacity to evaluate the past.  I need to understand that in order to move forward positively.  There's a pattern there that's not all that merry, at least not for the recent merry-go-rounds that I've ridden.

Lots changing still, a work in constant upgrade, constant update.  At least I still piss in the front and crap out the back; some things can't change, no matter what.  That might be all by the time my mind quits.

That is comforting. 

Why $10 cost me two hours and 21.2 miles.

My friend Rick invited me out for a good, old fashioned 50 mile bike ride on a beautiful sunny Texas day.

I drove for an hour to get to the spot in Sam Houston National Forest.  The roads were not heavily traveled by cars, which was a benefit for this off the beaten path in God's wonderland.  The first 28 were very nice indeed.  Rick's friend Adam joined us, and it turned out to be a 'stretch' ride for Adam, who is doing 130 miles on Sunday. He's a retired professional cyclist, and I want his tan.  A pleasure, and he gave me some pointers that hopefully will adjust my cycling position and power transfer.  Thanks, Adam.

I've found that me riding for an hour nonstop is about my feel-good limit.  After about an hour, I really should just take a short break if nothing else.  Give the legs the benefit of stillness for a few minutes.  Today we stopped about an hour fifteen in, and it was a good relief.  We made it into the thriving metropolis of Anderson, Texas, quaintly located in the middle of Grimes County: also located up and a little to the left of BFE.

After a relatively short break, replenished liquids and grabbed a quick processed food snack, we continued on.  Headed now 'with' the wind, we headed toward Richards.  And then it happened.

Contrary to popular belief, I did not do it on purpose.  Sitting in Anderson for a few hours didn't really fit into todays schedule.

The rear derailleur hanger is a piece of aluminum that holds the rear derailleur to the frame.  It doesn't bend, it shears.  Or it at least shears on my bike.  The last time it broke a few years ago, i was doing 20 mph with a tail wind, and it sent my derailleur into my tire and thrashed about half the spokes.  New rim, tire (that I had just replaced the week before that got flatspotted) and the derailleur.  Today's episdode only broke the hanger, I'm hoping. 

In any case, I was done.  With the only possible sag support standing next to me, they ventured on and left me with some time on my hands.   Of course, this was the one day that I decided to leave my phone behind in the truck.  What would I do for two hours?  Or more? 

Well, I'm sure that the people driving by, if they saw me, thought I was a freak.  Walking around town with in bike pants and cycling shoes, walking on heels trying not to bust my ass.

I'm sure the hardware store front desk guy thought that I was a bit weird when I walked in and asked if he happened to have a rear derailleur hanger in stock.  He said no awfully fast.  But, I did get to venture into the store, look around, and I actually kind of enjoyed it.

It's one of those that my hometown used to have before it burned to the ground.  One of those that has all the odd stuff, no AC (I think it just holds the temperature cooler from all the cast iron crap in there that never moves and never has seen sunlight to absorb heat) but seems cooler, and then the floor that looks like they build the store out six feet at a time.  Everything on the shelves have been there for years; you can tell from the dust.  Most of the prices are original on the package under the plastic, or they are hand-modified.

You know those bug sprayers that you pump up, and it has the little wand?  Well, there was a 15 gallon one of those. 

I then went back outside, and decided to use the coke machine on the porch. It wouldn't take my dollar.  Flipped around.  Again.  STill nothing.  Then, you try to make it flatter, hoping that bent corner you just straightened was the problem.  Nope.  Wasn't.  I just happen to have 60 cents in change, and was soon on my way with my ice cold Dr. Pepper.  I was actually surprised it was ice cold.

A few doors down in between some buildings was a memorial to the soldiers that fought during the Confederacy. The guys that made their own clothes, went barefoot when shoes wore out, and had hardships we can't even imagine any longer.   Nice memorial.  Well done.  And well maintained. And nice flag of the Confederacy.

There in Anderson, next to the Courthouse, is a historical marker. It was a synopsis of what the building served as, as far as i can tell.  Lots of 1836 dates.  The thing that caught my eye was the 'wartime suspension of habeas corpus.' Rock on. We need more of that these days, I think.  They even deported some guys back to Mexico. What a concept.

I then headed back to the convenience/deli/grocery store where I would be later picked up.  It had to be funny for those people gasin' up the car to look over and see a guy, shirless, with bike pants hiked up trying to get some sun.  Not one person said anything though.  I just got my tan, and an hour ahead of my prediction, Rick drove up.  Thanks for the sag, buddy.

It was time spent wisely.  I wanted some sun and got some.  In areas usually covered by a bike jersey.  And I got to smile a bit at Texas history there, just to remind me that Texas, well, it's Texas.

Oh, the $10?  That's the price of a new derailleur hanger.  Getting fixed tomorrow.

Sometimes you gotta take the hit.

Well.

I woke up to a beaut of a morn.  I was in a good mood. I slept well, I felt well.  It was good all the way around.

Then I went to give blood.  If you're squeamish, do what you have to do, or just skip down to THE POINT OF THIS.

It's usually a pretty routine deal.  Most times I give platelets and RBCs.  Usually, they have to lower the pressure on the machine for my vein, and it tries to suck the blood out with too much pressure, and the machine pauses.  They have to come over and reset. Absolutely normal.  Usually.  Then i'm good, sometimes for a few more minutes, sometimes not. 

And usually in the 'center' vein of my right arm. 

Well. First, the chair next to it had a longer arm on the left arm, so I decided against the right arm.  Then, the lady came over ( not the routine stick-me-in-the-arm-lady) and chose the 'outside' vein.

I should have known.

For those of you that have not given platelets, there is a 'draw' and 'return'.  The draw takes the blood, it gets centrifuged (I guess) and then they give it back to you with some saline.  Or carb solution, or whatever.  Clear crap that your body likes. Anyhyoo, they keep the platelets.  That's the point.

Anyhoo, on the first return, I experienced immense pain.  Did not feel right at all.  No sir.  F'n. hurt.  They backed the needle out a little; assessed the situation, and we continued.

Now, I'm not a rocket scientist, but if you have a 2 inch needle, and it's stuck most of the way in for a surface vein, it might be stuck just a bit too far.  It was adjusted, and we continued with no further pain.  There is always some pressure; that's part of the game.

Fast forward 10 minutes.  It was then noticed that the 'product' was not being taken from me. (i.e. bag the stuff goes ain't fillin'.)  So, the decision was made to end the donation.  It was determined that the 'kit', the plastic bags and tubes and stuff, wasn't allowing collection.  Ok, fine.  I'll just drink the juice I just started drinking, and enjoy the rest of the day.

Now, I've got three icepaks, and i'm nursing a goose-egg sized area where the blood, "probably during the return entered the tissues surrounding the vessel itself."  Maybe that pain thing from earlier?

I think so. 

So.  Maybe in a few days, when the big ass bruise has formed, you'll get to share in my unsightly bruise on my left arm.  Just peachy.

THE POINT OF THIS...

Sometimes, no matter how good things are going, things can take a shit in a hurry, and intantaneously erase any momentum generated earlier in the day.

The point is, sometimes you just gotta take the hit. It's out of your control.  Not your fault.  Wrong place at the wrong time.  Just wasn't meant to be. 

Maybe some relay switch installed before you were named to the mission blew your O2 tanks, and you have to find a way to put a square filter on a round hole so you can live in the Lander until you get your happy ass back around the Earth to have a chance to land.

So take the bruise. It will be in the front of your mind, visible, in your life for a bit.  But, like all things, it will escape the view, and it won't remind you after a period of time.  You may even recall it later, but it is just one of life's things.  God has to keep you on your toes somehow.  Sometimes they get jammed, stubbed, or you lose the nail.

Then nail always grows back.  And if it doesn't, maybe you don't need that particular nail anymore.

As for me now, I'm on icepak no. 2.

Take the hit.  Learn.  Adjust.  Continue.

Shiner: Epic!

 My friend Rick and I through our training rides have labeled certain ventures as epic or brutal. That's our standard description.  The discussion of allowing epically-brutal or brutally-epic labels surfaced yesterday after the ride,  in earshot from a normal person asking a cop, "Hey man, can I borrow your Taser?"  Sometimes you hear the weirdest things.  Anyhow, I bring this up because not very often is epic been in our vocabulary to describe an event all by its lonesome withou the qualifier brutal somewhere closeby.

 

Yesterday was an Epic day.

 

100 miles is a long way. But when it looks like this...

... it makes it a bit easier, for say, the first 60.  We actually averaged a few miles an hour higher than usual (partly because of consistent draft lines, low wind, and mostly flat or gentle climbs), but it is still excellent when it happens for the first 24 miles withouth a break.  We flew, well, at least, for us.

Only after the 3 hour ride time mark did I start feeling it.  Up until lunch it was partly cloudy.  In the afternoon, it became partly sunny, and the wind began to strengthen.  We hadn't had wind issues too much at all; crosswinds has been the norm, and even with those present, they were not strong enough to affect the draft lines singnificantly.

A few more stops we made, and we started geting sore and a bit tired. One stop we were resting, and I noticed something rather peculiar.  We were on the old highway alternate parallel to the freeway, at a small shack/store/bar/water hole in Wherever, Texas, and I saw something that made my mind think a bit:

Um, yeah, that's what I though initially as well.  They wouldn't do that, would they?  You tend to see the most interesting things at 15 mph.

As we rolled on, we chatted about what a great day all around it was, that it was a great idea to participate today, weather couldn't be better, totally enjoyable, excellent.

Eventually,

Only 10 miles to go! Whohoo!  Except (isn't there always one of those??) the 10 miles on the sign would not give us the elusive Century ride, the 100 miles, the reason why we had put ourselves through this.

And so, worn down, 90 miles in, we turned north.  North into the wind, stronger at this time, and coming directly from the north.  Thanks, God.  Anyone who rides bike in Texas this time of year knows that the wind can be severe.  Although it wasn't particulary severe this day, it was a severe pain in the ass.  It plays with your mind.  It screws with your being.  Heading down a hill and slowing down because the wind is in your face isn't a great confidence booster.  However, we continued on, and after a half hour or so of brutality, we turned back south on SH 95 to come into Shiner from the north.

The work was done; we had a tailwind, and we cruised into shiner as we had started the day, in high gear.  It was a  beautiful, exhausting, definitely rewarding and totally enjoyable experience.

Thanks, Rick.  A job well done.

I encouraged Rick to ride this year.  He had rode 10 years ago, and has thanked me a few times for ecouraging him to get started again. I'm proud. Three months ago rick got on a bike, and today rode 100 miles in 5 hours ride time.

Rick and I started riding around the end of January.  Today's ride included several significant milestones:

• Longest ride of the season so far for both Rick and I; 101 miles.
• First Century ride for Rick and I this year.
• Rick's first Century in a Decade. 
• We both crossed 1000 miles for the season with today's ride.  This milestone was recognized whe it happened for each of us, with a celebratory fist bump at speed. 

Well done indeed.