So in 1984 singers Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson recorded a duet entitled "To All the Girls I've Loved Before" (see it here at http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=8228835) and it ended up being the number one country hit and became Iglesias' signature English language song. I remember thinking at the time "Julio I can understand, but Willie? How many can that be? Five or six?" Yeah, I know he was a hard-living country star so it was probably hundreds but still, you had to just look at him next to Julio to think, "huh?"
Well, that song has been going through my head as I have been dealing with David's passing. I really didn't broadcast it so much at the beginning, I just wrote about it here on my blog but I've been finding myself responding to dozens of e-mails, texts, and facebook postings wishing me well and offering their condolences. It has been uplifting, wondrous, humbling and a blessing all at the same time. I truly am at a loss to explain it all. I won't embarass anyone by quoting them but I honestly can't understand it.
I'm getting e-mails and messages telling me how much I changed their lives and how much they still think of me and how much they are praying for me or are willing to listen to me if I need to talk. To be honest, I'm not sure how I've inspired so much in all of you. I've just tried to be the best dance/drama teacher I can be. I haven't always succeeded and there have been times when I really feel that I've let you down. However, all of the love and support you have been giving to me in the last few days have really made me more determined to be a better teacher to all of you. You have all changed me (for good - okay, couldn't resist the Wicked reference) now and forever. All I have tried to be is a good teacher to you all and you have now taught me what it means to make a difference, for you have truly made a difference in my life when I desperately needed it.
My father (who I think is the best teacher ever) was my inspiration for what it means to be a craftsman. As a career military man he wasn't ever going to get rich doing his job or get publicity or any other particular accolades. But he was good at his job and he was the consummate professional. He taught me that doing a job well and being able to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day and know that you did your best is all the reward you can expect and that should be enough. It's not self-deprecating or defeatist - its just the reality that you can't expect the praise of others. You have to do your best at whatever you do for the intrinsic satisfaction of knowing you tried your best. I've tried to follow his example. Sometimes I get it right and sometimes I don't but I keep trying.
However, you my students - all that I have taught before, am teaching now and those I may teach in the future have given me the greatest gift a teacher could ever receive - the knowledge that I have made a difference in you life. For that I am eternally grateful to you all, to you "All the Ones I've Taught Before".
Stay well my friends, I'll see you on the road.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Back in the Pack
So yesterday I "spoke" to you all about my venturing forth with the AA group of the Huntington Bicycle Club for the first time in a year. I truly expected to get totally spanked, chewed up and spit out the back of the pack to limp my lonely way homeward. At least I would know the area so I wouldn't be totally lost. I mean from all the e-mails that have been going on within the group about not stopping for dropped riders and a AA designation assumes a certain amount of fitness I figured I would be doing well to hold on for the first 15 miles. It really wouldn't be a matter of IF I would be dropped, it was a matter of WHEN and/or HOW OFTEN.
I figured that since the ride was obstensibly going to Asharoken it might pass close enough to Northport that if I were dropped I could just limp home without having to go the Smith St. lot and face the humiliation of getting there 30 minutes after everyone else. Anyway, that was my state of mind. So I rode to the start instead of driving there so I could just head straight for home at any time.
The ride began with about sixteen riders some of whom I recognized (Paul, Don, Jesus, Adam and a few others whose faces I remember but not their names) but mostly people I didn't know. I checked out their bikes and felt myself feeling inadequate and envious at the same time. Of course, I looked over at Paul's bike and was reminded that here is a rider that doesn't have the most current carbon (or "crabon" as the Bike Snob calls it) ride or componentry and yet he's always in the front group. Of course, Paul is also about 20 pounds lighter than me. However, I did look over the apparent physical shape of the riders (I say "apparent" because it was cold and we were all bundled up which does hide a lot), I guess its an old dancer audition habit - you know, sizing up the competition, and I thought to myself, "there are a few guys who I think I can hang with so it might not be too bad after all".
Well, the ride began a little inaspiciously with the fact that one of the riders forgot his helmet and he got a ride with someone else to go pick up a spare. That delayed us for a little while but we finally were able to get rolling. We finally got on a pretty good straight away and we were cruising along in a nice pace line when someone flatted. That gave us some time to breathe but I think it frustrated some of the more hardcore riders becuase we took off again and the pace upped a bit. Surprisingly enough, I was able to hold on and I stayed smack in the middle of the pack. It did help that we were on familiar roads so I knew what to expect. Most of the rides we were on today I've been on at least once or twice so I knew where the hills were and I knew what it would take to power up the hills. That was lesson number 1 - knowing your route can help you in your strategy to stay with the pack! I didn't have to rely on keeping up if I knew when the next hill would come up.
I got a little behind on one of the climbs but managed to stay in the middle of the group. Out of sixteen riders I was pretty consistently staying in the ninth or tenth wheel so it I always knew there were at least six more guys behind me! As I wrote yesterday, it also helped that I had a lot of anger to get rid of - every hill was another opportunity to release some of the anger that has been building up since Thursday. And boy did I release.
Anyway, as I was releasing some of this anger going up Hammond (a really steep hill in King's Park) and finding myself in the front third of climbers (of course not up near Jesus and the crew but still respectable) I heard a loud "pop" and the guy who had been climbing just behind and to my left just stopped - his chain had snapped. We called ahead to some of the "hammers" and they (after much shouting on our parts) stopped. A few of us had chain tools with us and we were going to help him repair it but he had also broken a carbon spoke - he was out! So we made sure he had someone to call, regrouped and went on.
We continued on through King's Park and at one point I was on the wheel of Paul (my cycling mentor - whether he knows it or not) hanging in no man's land between the pack adn a break away group of six in the front. Suddenly this guy attacks from the pack to bridge up to the front group passing Paul and I. I was feeling strong so I latched onto his wheel and we bridged up to the front group. I just wanted to see if I could hang on - and I could!!!! It felt great in my current out of shapeness to be able to counter an attack like that. I knew I would suffer for it later but at the moment it felt great. We then continued through King's Park - up the long slope of 25A and again I felt strong.
This is where it went wrong. Three riders peeled off at Pulaski to head back and I was sorely tempted to join them but I thought I would try to hang on a little bit longer. It was too bad because these three were three that I thought I would have been able to hang with to Asharoken. Anyway, to make it short, I was too cocky and pushed too hard and after going through King's Park village I started to lose contact with the pack. I was in the back slowly getting blown off the back. I didn't panic though, as long as I could see them I knew I could eventually catch back up since I knew there were hills coming up where I could make up some time. Finally, after a longish straight descent I was able to catch back up to them - just in time for the rest stop - ah, the irony.
After a break we all hopped back on to head to Asharoken - here's where I figured I would lose it and have to limp home. We had a great pace line going at one point and I sat in the middle of the pack clocking 26+ mph for about a mile. Then we realized we had taken a wrong turn and how to regroup, turn around and do it all over again. This is where the bad luck hit again (it always comes in threes, right?) when Doug (one of those I had hoped I could hang with at the back and compete for the Lantern Rouge spot) broke his chain as well! At this point the hammers decided not to wait and just peeled off and headed towards Northport and what we assumed was a more "challenging" ride. The five of us that were left (Doug said he would fix the chain and join us later) headed out to Asharoken. We again formed a pace line across the Eaton's Neck causeway and really got cooking - it was great!!!!!!!
We turned around in Asharoken and headed back only to be found by Doug so he latched on and we started to try a TTT. Eveyone took their share of pulling at the front even though there was a considerable headwind hitting us. I even pulled for a good long time at 19mph! Yeah, its not much but in a headwind it was great.
I really thought I'd completely blow up on the hill out of Eaton's Neck but I didn't - I hung on and made it up as third wheel - right in the middle of the group which is where I'd been 95% of the time on this ride. At this point I told Adam (the ride leader) that I was going to peel off and head for home since once we got to the intersection I'd be three houses away from my front door. He suggested I join them in their final suffering of the ride - going up Scudder. So I said OK - what the heck, I could still limp home easily.
As we hit the base of Scudder I was in the front and I never lost it - I just followed all the advice of all the articles I'd been reading and just spun at a fast tempo the whole way. Granted, I wasn't going fast but I managed to be the first wheel at the top (although Adam got within half a wheel length at one point) - but I think Adam just gave me a gift and let me get up first.
As I peeled off Paul, Adam, Doug and the others left called out "See ya next week!" I truly wish that was so but I'm heading to South Jersey to FINALLY meet my niece Anika!
So, what did I learn? I learned that if I push myself I can still ride with the big boys. I might get dropped but that's how I learn how to ride. I learned that I can make no more excuses - I have to ride to work whenever I can and take the hills whenever I can. I learned that even out of shape and with a non-carbon bike I can still power up (almost) as fast as the others - get in shape (i.e., drop five to ten pounds) and get a few lighter components and I'm there!
But in particular, in the last few rides I learned that cycling can be extremely cathartic to me and compared to the suffering others are going through (especially those with cancer) what I do on the bike is nothing comparatively and I need to suck it up and keep pushing. It's the least I can do to try to support these kids at Sunrise and the others that are going through the pain and struggle of fighting cancer.
I figured that since the ride was obstensibly going to Asharoken it might pass close enough to Northport that if I were dropped I could just limp home without having to go the Smith St. lot and face the humiliation of getting there 30 minutes after everyone else. Anyway, that was my state of mind. So I rode to the start instead of driving there so I could just head straight for home at any time.
The ride began with about sixteen riders some of whom I recognized (Paul, Don, Jesus, Adam and a few others whose faces I remember but not their names) but mostly people I didn't know. I checked out their bikes and felt myself feeling inadequate and envious at the same time. Of course, I looked over at Paul's bike and was reminded that here is a rider that doesn't have the most current carbon (or "crabon" as the Bike Snob calls it) ride or componentry and yet he's always in the front group. Of course, Paul is also about 20 pounds lighter than me. However, I did look over the apparent physical shape of the riders (I say "apparent" because it was cold and we were all bundled up which does hide a lot), I guess its an old dancer audition habit - you know, sizing up the competition, and I thought to myself, "there are a few guys who I think I can hang with so it might not be too bad after all".
Well, the ride began a little inaspiciously with the fact that one of the riders forgot his helmet and he got a ride with someone else to go pick up a spare. That delayed us for a little while but we finally were able to get rolling. We finally got on a pretty good straight away and we were cruising along in a nice pace line when someone flatted. That gave us some time to breathe but I think it frustrated some of the more hardcore riders becuase we took off again and the pace upped a bit. Surprisingly enough, I was able to hold on and I stayed smack in the middle of the pack. It did help that we were on familiar roads so I knew what to expect. Most of the rides we were on today I've been on at least once or twice so I knew where the hills were and I knew what it would take to power up the hills. That was lesson number 1 - knowing your route can help you in your strategy to stay with the pack! I didn't have to rely on keeping up if I knew when the next hill would come up.
I got a little behind on one of the climbs but managed to stay in the middle of the group. Out of sixteen riders I was pretty consistently staying in the ninth or tenth wheel so it I always knew there were at least six more guys behind me! As I wrote yesterday, it also helped that I had a lot of anger to get rid of - every hill was another opportunity to release some of the anger that has been building up since Thursday. And boy did I release.
Anyway, as I was releasing some of this anger going up Hammond (a really steep hill in King's Park) and finding myself in the front third of climbers (of course not up near Jesus and the crew but still respectable) I heard a loud "pop" and the guy who had been climbing just behind and to my left just stopped - his chain had snapped. We called ahead to some of the "hammers" and they (after much shouting on our parts) stopped. A few of us had chain tools with us and we were going to help him repair it but he had also broken a carbon spoke - he was out! So we made sure he had someone to call, regrouped and went on.
We continued on through King's Park and at one point I was on the wheel of Paul (my cycling mentor - whether he knows it or not) hanging in no man's land between the pack adn a break away group of six in the front. Suddenly this guy attacks from the pack to bridge up to the front group passing Paul and I. I was feeling strong so I latched onto his wheel and we bridged up to the front group. I just wanted to see if I could hang on - and I could!!!! It felt great in my current out of shapeness to be able to counter an attack like that. I knew I would suffer for it later but at the moment it felt great. We then continued through King's Park - up the long slope of 25A and again I felt strong.
This is where it went wrong. Three riders peeled off at Pulaski to head back and I was sorely tempted to join them but I thought I would try to hang on a little bit longer. It was too bad because these three were three that I thought I would have been able to hang with to Asharoken. Anyway, to make it short, I was too cocky and pushed too hard and after going through King's Park village I started to lose contact with the pack. I was in the back slowly getting blown off the back. I didn't panic though, as long as I could see them I knew I could eventually catch back up since I knew there were hills coming up where I could make up some time. Finally, after a longish straight descent I was able to catch back up to them - just in time for the rest stop - ah, the irony.
After a break we all hopped back on to head to Asharoken - here's where I figured I would lose it and have to limp home. We had a great pace line going at one point and I sat in the middle of the pack clocking 26+ mph for about a mile. Then we realized we had taken a wrong turn and how to regroup, turn around and do it all over again. This is where the bad luck hit again (it always comes in threes, right?) when Doug (one of those I had hoped I could hang with at the back and compete for the Lantern Rouge spot) broke his chain as well! At this point the hammers decided not to wait and just peeled off and headed towards Northport and what we assumed was a more "challenging" ride. The five of us that were left (Doug said he would fix the chain and join us later) headed out to Asharoken. We again formed a pace line across the Eaton's Neck causeway and really got cooking - it was great!!!!!!!
We turned around in Asharoken and headed back only to be found by Doug so he latched on and we started to try a TTT. Eveyone took their share of pulling at the front even though there was a considerable headwind hitting us. I even pulled for a good long time at 19mph! Yeah, its not much but in a headwind it was great.
I really thought I'd completely blow up on the hill out of Eaton's Neck but I didn't - I hung on and made it up as third wheel - right in the middle of the group which is where I'd been 95% of the time on this ride. At this point I told Adam (the ride leader) that I was going to peel off and head for home since once we got to the intersection I'd be three houses away from my front door. He suggested I join them in their final suffering of the ride - going up Scudder. So I said OK - what the heck, I could still limp home easily.
As we hit the base of Scudder I was in the front and I never lost it - I just followed all the advice of all the articles I'd been reading and just spun at a fast tempo the whole way. Granted, I wasn't going fast but I managed to be the first wheel at the top (although Adam got within half a wheel length at one point) - but I think Adam just gave me a gift and let me get up first.
As I peeled off Paul, Adam, Doug and the others left called out "See ya next week!" I truly wish that was so but I'm heading to South Jersey to FINALLY meet my niece Anika!
So, what did I learn? I learned that if I push myself I can still ride with the big boys. I might get dropped but that's how I learn how to ride. I learned that I can make no more excuses - I have to ride to work whenever I can and take the hills whenever I can. I learned that even out of shape and with a non-carbon bike I can still power up (almost) as fast as the others - get in shape (i.e., drop five to ten pounds) and get a few lighter components and I'm there!
But in particular, in the last few rides I learned that cycling can be extremely cathartic to me and compared to the suffering others are going through (especially those with cancer) what I do on the bike is nothing comparatively and I need to suck it up and keep pushing. It's the least I can do to try to support these kids at Sunrise and the others that are going through the pain and struggle of fighting cancer.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
All over the map ... and Catharsis, part 2
Today was a day of ups and downs and emotionally all over the map. But before I get into the emotional roller coaster that was today there's a few things I'd like to share.
First, when I started writing this blog I thought of it only as a way to share my day to day (okay, it ended up not being day to day but the thought was there) experiences as I followed my year long goal to commute 2,000 miles. I never thought anyone read it aside from my editor-in-chief (otherwise known as my patient, loving, supportive wife Amy) and myself. Occasionally someone would e-mail me to tell me about something they read on it but I always figured it was a fluke (despite the fact there is a link to my blog on our website). I guess I never thought anyone would be interested in my metaphysical musings. So imagine my surprise to find out that there are people who actually read what I write - sometimes on a daily basis. To those of you I say thank you and I'll try to actually keept that in mind as I create posts in the future. I'll at least try to make what I write a little more scintillating.
Secondly, I have found out that there are people who actually read my blog becuase of the amazing outpouring of support I have been getting from friends, former students, current students, family and in once instance a total stranger. Some of them have mentioned to me how they find out from reading my blog and have mentioned some of the things I wrote. To each and every one of you - thank you. Your love and support in this time of emotional upheaval has been an overwhelming source of support for me. There is a poem entitled "Bits and Pieces" (I wish I had all the words here but they are all at school) that describes how we are all made up of bits and pieces of the people who have touched our lives and come into contact with us - both positive and negative. So if we follow the logic of this poem, David is an intrinsic part of me and your prayers and condolences to me are therefore going straight to David as well. So on behalf of us both, I again thank you so much for everything you have sent to me in the last few days.
And now the moment of Catharsis, part 2. Yesterday was David's memorial and I couldn't be there. In this time of financial difficulty I just couldn't get there. Instead, I went out for a ride with my local bike club group. I know on Friday I went riding just to get things out of my system and it took me until the Lawrence Hill climb until I finally exhausted myself to the point that the tears flowed down my cheeks. They came on and off the rest of the way home but I was finally able to break out of the numbness I had been feeling since I got the news.
One of the few things I remember from my college psychology classes and sociology classes is that when someone is grieving their are seven distinct stages that they need to experience before they have fully gone through the process of grieving and loss. Most of Thursday I was dealing with the first stage of shock and denial. Friday's ride took me through a lot of the second stage, dealing with the pain and guilt. I'm still dealing with both of these stages. Mostly I'm dealing with the guilt of not having been in better contact with him the last few years. A lot of what has been going through my head the last few days is the feeling that I let my little brother down by not being in more contact with him. I've never been very good at keeping in touch with people which is why this blog is becoming more important to me. At least there are some of you who I'm keeping in touch with. I don't want this to become too deep of an introspective blog but it is what I've been going through right now and its important for me to get it out - for those of you who have read this far, thank you for your patience and your support.
Anyway, today I rode because I just needed to get my mind off the fact that I couldn't be at David's memorial. My inability to be there was just adding to the guilt I've been feeling so I began the ride by riding from my house to Greenlawn.I won't go into all the details of the ride (I'll save that for tomorrow's post) but I will say that I was able to climb quite a few of the big hills becuase of anger. Every time I started to climb I would think of David and the unfairness of his death would hit me and nothing felt as good as it did to just mash the pedals all the way to the top. I just needed to get it out. The ride was mostly a great experience for me on so many levels (again, I'll write about that tomorrow, today's just not the day for joy) but mostly for the catharsis of being able to find something that really brought forth the anger and allowed me to channel it in a positive way. My family has been so supportive and I'm trying (not always successfully) to keep my anger from creeping out at them. Mostly I've been good at it but every now and then that anger just pops out.
I think David would have been appreciative of the fact that I spent the day doing something I love doing. I don't think he would ever understand why grown men would want to put on spandex, shave their legs and careen down hills at 45 miles an hour (honestly, I'm not sure many of my friends and family understand it) but I think he would appreciate that I was doing something that brought me joy.
I spoke to Tamara later in the day and she told me Markus read my words to David (check yesterday's blog entry) and that during the service the rain subsided just enough for the military honor guard to go outside and give David a 21-gun salute and play taps. Then the rain started up again. Late today that same rain hit us - at least I was able to share that part of the memorial with everyone.
I don't know how long it will take me to get through the next stages - I really hope I can get past this angry stage before I cause strife with the family - but I know that I have a lot of very supportive family, friends and students (both present and former) that are sending me positive thoughts, prayers and words. To all of you I thank you for being a part of my life.
Stay well and I'll see you on the road.
First, when I started writing this blog I thought of it only as a way to share my day to day (okay, it ended up not being day to day but the thought was there) experiences as I followed my year long goal to commute 2,000 miles. I never thought anyone read it aside from my editor-in-chief (otherwise known as my patient, loving, supportive wife Amy) and myself. Occasionally someone would e-mail me to tell me about something they read on it but I always figured it was a fluke (despite the fact there is a link to my blog on our website). I guess I never thought anyone would be interested in my metaphysical musings. So imagine my surprise to find out that there are people who actually read what I write - sometimes on a daily basis. To those of you I say thank you and I'll try to actually keept that in mind as I create posts in the future. I'll at least try to make what I write a little more scintillating.
Secondly, I have found out that there are people who actually read my blog becuase of the amazing outpouring of support I have been getting from friends, former students, current students, family and in once instance a total stranger. Some of them have mentioned to me how they find out from reading my blog and have mentioned some of the things I wrote. To each and every one of you - thank you. Your love and support in this time of emotional upheaval has been an overwhelming source of support for me. There is a poem entitled "Bits and Pieces" (I wish I had all the words here but they are all at school) that describes how we are all made up of bits and pieces of the people who have touched our lives and come into contact with us - both positive and negative. So if we follow the logic of this poem, David is an intrinsic part of me and your prayers and condolences to me are therefore going straight to David as well. So on behalf of us both, I again thank you so much for everything you have sent to me in the last few days.
And now the moment of Catharsis, part 2. Yesterday was David's memorial and I couldn't be there. In this time of financial difficulty I just couldn't get there. Instead, I went out for a ride with my local bike club group. I know on Friday I went riding just to get things out of my system and it took me until the Lawrence Hill climb until I finally exhausted myself to the point that the tears flowed down my cheeks. They came on and off the rest of the way home but I was finally able to break out of the numbness I had been feeling since I got the news.
One of the few things I remember from my college psychology classes and sociology classes is that when someone is grieving their are seven distinct stages that they need to experience before they have fully gone through the process of grieving and loss. Most of Thursday I was dealing with the first stage of shock and denial. Friday's ride took me through a lot of the second stage, dealing with the pain and guilt. I'm still dealing with both of these stages. Mostly I'm dealing with the guilt of not having been in better contact with him the last few years. A lot of what has been going through my head the last few days is the feeling that I let my little brother down by not being in more contact with him. I've never been very good at keeping in touch with people which is why this blog is becoming more important to me. At least there are some of you who I'm keeping in touch with. I don't want this to become too deep of an introspective blog but it is what I've been going through right now and its important for me to get it out - for those of you who have read this far, thank you for your patience and your support.
Anyway, today I rode because I just needed to get my mind off the fact that I couldn't be at David's memorial. My inability to be there was just adding to the guilt I've been feeling so I began the ride by riding from my house to Greenlawn.I won't go into all the details of the ride (I'll save that for tomorrow's post) but I will say that I was able to climb quite a few of the big hills becuase of anger. Every time I started to climb I would think of David and the unfairness of his death would hit me and nothing felt as good as it did to just mash the pedals all the way to the top. I just needed to get it out. The ride was mostly a great experience for me on so many levels (again, I'll write about that tomorrow, today's just not the day for joy) but mostly for the catharsis of being able to find something that really brought forth the anger and allowed me to channel it in a positive way. My family has been so supportive and I'm trying (not always successfully) to keep my anger from creeping out at them. Mostly I've been good at it but every now and then that anger just pops out.
I think David would have been appreciative of the fact that I spent the day doing something I love doing. I don't think he would ever understand why grown men would want to put on spandex, shave their legs and careen down hills at 45 miles an hour (honestly, I'm not sure many of my friends and family understand it) but I think he would appreciate that I was doing something that brought me joy.
I spoke to Tamara later in the day and she told me Markus read my words to David (check yesterday's blog entry) and that during the service the rain subsided just enough for the military honor guard to go outside and give David a 21-gun salute and play taps. Then the rain started up again. Late today that same rain hit us - at least I was able to share that part of the memorial with everyone.
I don't know how long it will take me to get through the next stages - I really hope I can get past this angry stage before I cause strife with the family - but I know that I have a lot of very supportive family, friends and students (both present and former) that are sending me positive thoughts, prayers and words. To all of you I thank you for being a part of my life.
Stay well and I'll see you on the road.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
For David
To begin, I could never have imagined that I would be writing these words. I honestly don't know how to begin. You never think there will come a time when one of your siblings, especially one younger than you will pass away. No matter how much distance or time separates you, you always think that they'll always be there. To connect with them all you have to do is pick up the phone or more likely, in this day of technological wonder, facebook or text them. No matter how far away or how much time passes, you never think that your family will ever leave you. You especially don't think there will ever come a time when your little brother won't be there anymore.
David and I didn't get to be together too much over the years. Although I've known about him since I was ten years old, I only got to meet him eleven years ago. But we hit it off as if we'd known each other our whole lives. In a sense we did. From the age of ten I knew I had a baby brother named David, but I knew little about him until I flew down to Knoxville to see my family. We spent a few days getting to know each other, and I knew then that I would be grateful for the rest of my life that I had my little brother back.
I am proud of my little brother. I'm proud of the life he was making for himself and for the way he was good at something he loved to do. Because he loved it, he had the best job in the world. He was a gentle man and funny. He called me a few times when he was on the road and we e-mailed a few more times; and his humor was always there, especially in his e-mails. I never got the funny voice mail messages on my phone that he would always leave for Tamara, but he always knew when my birthday was and I always remembered when his was.
We'll miss his jokes, we'll miss his smile and his laugh, but mostly we'll miss his presence. We just need to imagine that he's only gone on a very long run. As we remember David and remember his smile, we can take comfort in the words that Mary Elizabeth Frye wrote long ago based on the prayers and beliefs of Native Americans:
"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die."
Goodbye David, we'll see you at the end of the run.
David and I didn't get to be together too much over the years. Although I've known about him since I was ten years old, I only got to meet him eleven years ago. But we hit it off as if we'd known each other our whole lives. In a sense we did. From the age of ten I knew I had a baby brother named David, but I knew little about him until I flew down to Knoxville to see my family. We spent a few days getting to know each other, and I knew then that I would be grateful for the rest of my life that I had my little brother back.
I am proud of my little brother. I'm proud of the life he was making for himself and for the way he was good at something he loved to do. Because he loved it, he had the best job in the world. He was a gentle man and funny. He called me a few times when he was on the road and we e-mailed a few more times; and his humor was always there, especially in his e-mails. I never got the funny voice mail messages on my phone that he would always leave for Tamara, but he always knew when my birthday was and I always remembered when his was.
We'll miss his jokes, we'll miss his smile and his laugh, but mostly we'll miss his presence. We just need to imagine that he's only gone on a very long run. As we remember David and remember his smile, we can take comfort in the words that Mary Elizabeth Frye wrote long ago based on the prayers and beliefs of Native Americans:
"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die."
Goodbye David, we'll see you at the end of the run.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Riding for Catharsis
Okay, so in Theatre 101 we are told that Aristotle is credited with creating the idea of the carthartis - the effect of tragic drama on its audience, which is usually manifested by a purifying or figurative cleansing of the emotions, especially pity and fear. Another definition of catharsis is a release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit.
For any of you that have been following my blog, you know that my primary purpose of riding my bicycle has been to raise money for the cancer community. My first forays were to raise money for the American Cancer Society in gratitude of the research that made the diagnoses and treatement of my threes sisters' (yes, another drama reference) and my mother's cancers possible. I wanted to do something to help other fighting the disease that needed the help that my sisters and mother got.
And as of this year my fundraising efforts on my bicycle are still going towards the cancer community but now I'm focusing my efforts on children - primarily trying to help those kids fighting cancer have a summer camp experience like other kids.
However at 10:40 this morning I took to my bike for a different purpose - seeking my own catharsis. As I wrote yesterday my brother David passed away in an accident doing what he loved to do - drive his rig. As I spoke to the family on the phone yesterday they were all emotional wrecked as well they should be. His passing is going to leave a gaping hole in our lives. But as I said yesterday I was feeling emotionally numb. It didn't seem to make sense to me. Even though he wasn't a part of my daily life as he was with everyone down in Knoxville, he was still my brother. I guess my shock and numbness could be attributed to just not being able to really accept it. Last night and again this morning I watched the video on the Houston news websites and still it didn't hit me.
It hit me about 18 miles into what would be a 30 mile non-stop ride today. I knew I had to ride today and I knew I had to ride for David. I kept hoping if I rode myself into a state of exhaustion and reached that meditative state of "flow" I might release enough so that I could feel. So, I tried to find every hill or climb of any note that I knew of between here and Syosset. It wasn't until I stood up and pounded for everything I was worth while going up Lawrence Hill Road that my cathartic moment finally hit.
I found myself standing up out of the saddle and sobbing hysterically as I kept pedaling and thinking of David - of the last time I talked to him and how I regretted not keeping in better touch with him. I cried out of anger for his having been taken away far too young. I cried for my family in Knoxville and the loss they were feeling. And I cried out of anger at myself for not reaching out to him often enough. It was good to know that I'm not made of stone and that I did feel the pain of his loss. All I know is that the rest of the ride home I felt more alive because I finally felt the pain that I had been denying myself for almost 24 hours.
I know my sisters and my mom are heartbroken. My own heart goes out to his wife Rhonda who I've never even met - I hadn't seen him in ten years. I can't pretend that my pain is the same as theirs since they will have the pain of not seeing him on the regular basis that they normally do. And I cry for my nephew Austin who won't know that his uncle David won't be coming back to visit until his parents tell him tomorrow.
I talked to Tamara today and they had some thoughts about why David never hit the brakes. First of all, he was too experienced a driver to not try to take some evasive action - even if he didn't see the other rig until it was too late. It wouldn't be like him not to hit the brakes or try to steer his rig away. Perhaps he was in some sort of physical distress before the accident. Ultimately we'll never know but it would be comforting to know that he was (as the coroner seemed to indicate) that he was dead on impact, possibly as the result of a heart issue or other medical complication.
Again, we'll never know. All we'll know is that we'll miss him and that while our lives are better becuase we knew David, they will never be the same.
For any of you out there who read this - pass this blog on to your friends and remind them (as I do now) take some time today to reach out to someone you haven't been in contact for a while and thank them for having help make you who you are today. And if they are anywhere near you, invite them to join you on your bike in search of a cathartic moment.
I'll see you on the road.
For any of you that have been following my blog, you know that my primary purpose of riding my bicycle has been to raise money for the cancer community. My first forays were to raise money for the American Cancer Society in gratitude of the research that made the diagnoses and treatement of my threes sisters' (yes, another drama reference) and my mother's cancers possible. I wanted to do something to help other fighting the disease that needed the help that my sisters and mother got.
And as of this year my fundraising efforts on my bicycle are still going towards the cancer community but now I'm focusing my efforts on children - primarily trying to help those kids fighting cancer have a summer camp experience like other kids.
However at 10:40 this morning I took to my bike for a different purpose - seeking my own catharsis. As I wrote yesterday my brother David passed away in an accident doing what he loved to do - drive his rig. As I spoke to the family on the phone yesterday they were all emotional wrecked as well they should be. His passing is going to leave a gaping hole in our lives. But as I said yesterday I was feeling emotionally numb. It didn't seem to make sense to me. Even though he wasn't a part of my daily life as he was with everyone down in Knoxville, he was still my brother. I guess my shock and numbness could be attributed to just not being able to really accept it. Last night and again this morning I watched the video on the Houston news websites and still it didn't hit me.
It hit me about 18 miles into what would be a 30 mile non-stop ride today. I knew I had to ride today and I knew I had to ride for David. I kept hoping if I rode myself into a state of exhaustion and reached that meditative state of "flow" I might release enough so that I could feel. So, I tried to find every hill or climb of any note that I knew of between here and Syosset. It wasn't until I stood up and pounded for everything I was worth while going up Lawrence Hill Road that my cathartic moment finally hit.
I found myself standing up out of the saddle and sobbing hysterically as I kept pedaling and thinking of David - of the last time I talked to him and how I regretted not keeping in better touch with him. I cried out of anger for his having been taken away far too young. I cried for my family in Knoxville and the loss they were feeling. And I cried out of anger at myself for not reaching out to him often enough. It was good to know that I'm not made of stone and that I did feel the pain of his loss. All I know is that the rest of the ride home I felt more alive because I finally felt the pain that I had been denying myself for almost 24 hours.
I know my sisters and my mom are heartbroken. My own heart goes out to his wife Rhonda who I've never even met - I hadn't seen him in ten years. I can't pretend that my pain is the same as theirs since they will have the pain of not seeing him on the regular basis that they normally do. And I cry for my nephew Austin who won't know that his uncle David won't be coming back to visit until his parents tell him tomorrow.
I talked to Tamara today and they had some thoughts about why David never hit the brakes. First of all, he was too experienced a driver to not try to take some evasive action - even if he didn't see the other rig until it was too late. It wouldn't be like him not to hit the brakes or try to steer his rig away. Perhaps he was in some sort of physical distress before the accident. Ultimately we'll never know but it would be comforting to know that he was (as the coroner seemed to indicate) that he was dead on impact, possibly as the result of a heart issue or other medical complication.
Again, we'll never know. All we'll know is that we'll miss him and that while our lives are better becuase we knew David, they will never be the same.
For any of you out there who read this - pass this blog on to your friends and remind them (as I do now) take some time today to reach out to someone you haven't been in contact for a while and thank them for having help make you who you are today. And if they are anywhere near you, invite them to join you on your bike in search of a cathartic moment.
I'll see you on the road.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
In Memory of David
I realize that with all the myriad of blogs on the internet the chances that someone actually reads mine are slim. I guess its the equivilent of casting out my message(s) in a bottle adrift on the cyber sea and hoping that someone picks it (them) up and reads it (them).
Nevertheless, I am attempting (in my new state of resolution) to actually keep some sort of schedule. As I mentioned in my last post, the musical (High School Musical, that is) pretty much had taken hold of my existence (and that of my family) for the last two weeks and yesterday I finally got back on my bike (much to the consternation of my groove). So today I find myself writing again, two days in a row at that, although I wish this posting were of a more light-hearted nature.
Let me preface this next part by saying I had a terrible headache last night so I went to bed early. However, I woke up at 12:45 a.m. unexplainedly and it took me a while to get back to sleep. I couldn't figure out why. I then proceeded to wake up every 30 minutes or so until I finally just got out of bed at 5:00. Today my school was evacuated (actually tomorrow as well) due to some asbestos that had somehow gotten into the air in one of the sections of school. I thought, "great, I'll go home and have a great time relaxing before the kids come home," as i was totally exhausted from my sleepless night. However, as I walked in the door Amy told me we needed to talk. My first thought was for my parents, thinking something had happened to one of them which is a growing fear of mine particularly in light of my father's Parkinson's. It doesn't matter that is in very early stages and that he's actually showing some signs of improvement, I worry about him most of the time. Then my second thought was trying to figure out what had I possibly done that I was about to get in serious trouble for. There was no way I was prepared for what came next.
You see, about 12 years ago Amy gave me for my birthday present the name and address of my biological mother, Luwona Davis, telling me at the time that it was up to me to do with the information as I pleased. I ended up contacting her and began corresponding with my half-sisters Tamara and Winnie. We made plans to go down and visit Lou, Tamara and my half-brother David down in Knoxville, TN over my spring break. To make a long (but extremely happy) story short we made a great connection and kept in touch via the cyber sea. Indeed, my first cycling fundraising attempts (as that's what this blog is all about in the first place) were dedicated to Tamara, Winnie and my sister Angela in gratitude for their surviving their personal fights with cancer. On top of that, for the very first Victory Ride Tamara and Winnie surprised me by coming up to be here with me. It was one of the most special days of my life.
Although I really didn't have as much contact with David as I did with my sisters, Tamara always kept us apprised of what was going on with him and I did get the chance to talk with him on the phone a few times - most often when he was on the road. He kept saying he would visit us if one of his runs as a long-haul trucker brought him up this way but he never got the chance.
You see, at about 12:45 a.m. this morning on a fog shrouded stretch of highway leading out of Houston, my brother David died in an accident doing what he loved to do - driving his rig. When I got home this afternoon (early) this was the news with which Amy greeted me. I then called Tamara and we spoke for a while and I talked to Lou. They were both emotional wrecks and personally I'm still in a state of numbness. Even though we hadn't been in touch in a while, there was always that thought in the back of my head that we would be able to see each other some day. I know from things that Tamara has written that David was very proud of his big brother and I have to say I was pretty proud (and in a way a little envious that his job allowed him to travel around and see the country) of David because he had found a job that he was good at and that he enjoyed doing. When you think of it, that's really the best job in the world - the one that you love and from what I know, David loved driving.
I don't know what the next few days will bring as I emotionally thaw out and become more aware of what I'm feeling. I know tomorrow the weather forcast is for rain in the morning but I'm fairly certain I will be out in the midst of it riding and thinking of David feeling guilty that I didn't stay in better touch with him. If nothing else, I want to feel the rain battering me as I think of my baby brother.
So if any of you are out there and happen to pick up this message in a bottle on the cyber sea of information please, please, please do this - think of one person that is important in your life that you have not been in contact with in a while and contact them. Write, e-mail, text, twitter or call - but contact them and let them know they are important in your life. Tell them you love them. Tell them you think about them. Make a date to see them. But don't wait until its too late.
It's too late to tell you to your face, but I know you hear me - I miss you David.
Nevertheless, I am attempting (in my new state of resolution) to actually keep some sort of schedule. As I mentioned in my last post, the musical (High School Musical, that is) pretty much had taken hold of my existence (and that of my family) for the last two weeks and yesterday I finally got back on my bike (much to the consternation of my groove). So today I find myself writing again, two days in a row at that, although I wish this posting were of a more light-hearted nature.
Let me preface this next part by saying I had a terrible headache last night so I went to bed early. However, I woke up at 12:45 a.m. unexplainedly and it took me a while to get back to sleep. I couldn't figure out why. I then proceeded to wake up every 30 minutes or so until I finally just got out of bed at 5:00. Today my school was evacuated (actually tomorrow as well) due to some asbestos that had somehow gotten into the air in one of the sections of school. I thought, "great, I'll go home and have a great time relaxing before the kids come home," as i was totally exhausted from my sleepless night. However, as I walked in the door Amy told me we needed to talk. My first thought was for my parents, thinking something had happened to one of them which is a growing fear of mine particularly in light of my father's Parkinson's. It doesn't matter that is in very early stages and that he's actually showing some signs of improvement, I worry about him most of the time. Then my second thought was trying to figure out what had I possibly done that I was about to get in serious trouble for. There was no way I was prepared for what came next.
You see, about 12 years ago Amy gave me for my birthday present the name and address of my biological mother, Luwona Davis, telling me at the time that it was up to me to do with the information as I pleased. I ended up contacting her and began corresponding with my half-sisters Tamara and Winnie. We made plans to go down and visit Lou, Tamara and my half-brother David down in Knoxville, TN over my spring break. To make a long (but extremely happy) story short we made a great connection and kept in touch via the cyber sea. Indeed, my first cycling fundraising attempts (as that's what this blog is all about in the first place) were dedicated to Tamara, Winnie and my sister Angela in gratitude for their surviving their personal fights with cancer. On top of that, for the very first Victory Ride Tamara and Winnie surprised me by coming up to be here with me. It was one of the most special days of my life.
Although I really didn't have as much contact with David as I did with my sisters, Tamara always kept us apprised of what was going on with him and I did get the chance to talk with him on the phone a few times - most often when he was on the road. He kept saying he would visit us if one of his runs as a long-haul trucker brought him up this way but he never got the chance.
You see, at about 12:45 a.m. this morning on a fog shrouded stretch of highway leading out of Houston, my brother David died in an accident doing what he loved to do - driving his rig. When I got home this afternoon (early) this was the news with which Amy greeted me. I then called Tamara and we spoke for a while and I talked to Lou. They were both emotional wrecks and personally I'm still in a state of numbness. Even though we hadn't been in touch in a while, there was always that thought in the back of my head that we would be able to see each other some day. I know from things that Tamara has written that David was very proud of his big brother and I have to say I was pretty proud (and in a way a little envious that his job allowed him to travel around and see the country) of David because he had found a job that he was good at and that he enjoyed doing. When you think of it, that's really the best job in the world - the one that you love and from what I know, David loved driving.
I don't know what the next few days will bring as I emotionally thaw out and become more aware of what I'm feeling. I know tomorrow the weather forcast is for rain in the morning but I'm fairly certain I will be out in the midst of it riding and thinking of David feeling guilty that I didn't stay in better touch with him. If nothing else, I want to feel the rain battering me as I think of my baby brother.
So if any of you are out there and happen to pick up this message in a bottle on the cyber sea of information please, please, please do this - think of one person that is important in your life that you have not been in contact with in a while and contact them. Write, e-mail, text, twitter or call - but contact them and let them know they are important in your life. Tell them you love them. Tell them you think about them. Make a date to see them. But don't wait until its too late.
It's too late to tell you to your face, but I know you hear me - I miss you David.
And for you, my friends, I'll see you on the road.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I've Lost My Groove!
Okay, so I realized today that I've been watching a bit too much Nickelodeon with the kids. As I was riding against what were (according to our good friends at weather.com) gusts up to 20mph from the west I had the realization that due to many considerations I've Lost My Groove. What's this got to do with Nickelodeon? Well, the first thing that popped into my mind after realizing I was off my groove was the episode where King Julian ticks off the baboon sisters and they steal his groove and put it in a jar. See it here at http://www.nick.com/videos/clip/out-of-the-groove-clip.html
As this image was playing in my head (yes, I'm still trying to have my Thornton Wilderesque moments but its hard when your groove is in a jar) I realized that as of right now I have only commuted about 300 miles since the first of the year. Usually by this time I've logged closer to 800 commute miles and another 200 for fun miles. Its been a rough year between the snowmageddons and Amy's surgery. Add to that the stress of the show this year (it wasn't stressful by itself, just added to the administration degree, trying to take care of the house, and all the other usual stresses) I didn't get on the bike as much as I would have liked. I love doing the show and this year was an incredible success for the kids. They did an outstanding job (and yes, this year's high school musical was High School Musical) and they had a great set of audiences, selling out two of the four performances.
However, (back to the business of the bike) since I'm trying to get into shape for the April 18 Victory Ride I need to log a lot more mileage. Today was the beginning of that. Of course, I won't be able to ride tomorrow unless I ride in the dark at 7:00 - actually it might be worth it. It could be fun and something I haven't done in a while so I might give it a shot.
So, the bottome line is I watch too much television and don't ride enough - so the only way I'm getting my groove out of the jar is to get off my baboon backside and open the jar! If anyone wants to join me, just drop me an e-mail and I'll meet you for a spirited ride -- even better, come join me on April 18 and see if I did get my groove back.
See ya on the road.
As this image was playing in my head (yes, I'm still trying to have my Thornton Wilderesque moments but its hard when your groove is in a jar) I realized that as of right now I have only commuted about 300 miles since the first of the year. Usually by this time I've logged closer to 800 commute miles and another 200 for fun miles. Its been a rough year between the snowmageddons and Amy's surgery. Add to that the stress of the show this year (it wasn't stressful by itself, just added to the administration degree, trying to take care of the house, and all the other usual stresses) I didn't get on the bike as much as I would have liked. I love doing the show and this year was an incredible success for the kids. They did an outstanding job (and yes, this year's high school musical was High School Musical) and they had a great set of audiences, selling out two of the four performances.
However, (back to the business of the bike) since I'm trying to get into shape for the April 18 Victory Ride I need to log a lot more mileage. Today was the beginning of that. Of course, I won't be able to ride tomorrow unless I ride in the dark at 7:00 - actually it might be worth it. It could be fun and something I haven't done in a while so I might give it a shot.
So, the bottome line is I watch too much television and don't ride enough - so the only way I'm getting my groove out of the jar is to get off my baboon backside and open the jar! If anyone wants to join me, just drop me an e-mail and I'll meet you for a spirited ride -- even better, come join me on April 18 and see if I did get my groove back.
See ya on the road.
Monday, March 8, 2010
With Respects to Thornton Wilder
In the play Our Town the character Emily says, "Oh, earth you're too beautiful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings realize life while they live it -- every, every minute?" I pondered these words as I commuted on my bike to work today and the meaning (or I should say in my oxygen deprived state, multiple meanings) started to turn over in my head to the rythm of my crankset.
First of all, you have to know that at the tender age of ten my daughter Sarah is a die-hard environmentalist. She has held "Save the Earth" parties for her birthday and she is raising money to replant the trees that have been chopped down on Main Street in the town where we live (see her website projectlemonaid.org for more on that). She is working on a project in her class to "adopt" a polar bear and track it. The joke around our house is whenever we see someone has left the lights on we say, " is killing the polar bears!" to indicate the waste of energy and the contribution to global warming.
That being said, this being the first truly warm commute morning of the season I was basking in the warmth that was coming down from above. Plants are starting to bud and even though there is ice on the ground (and in the pond I pass on the Stillwell climb) there is the sense of the earth waking up again after our bouts with "Snowmageddon". I found myself wondering, do people actually get to experience this when they're in their cars? Of course I know the obvious answer but as I kept pedaling along I found myself noticing the little things that so often go unnoticed.
I saw the squirrels running in the distance (of course I kept a wary eye out for them since I've heard too many drive-by squirreling stories) and the sound the leaves made as they rustled. I saw the dappling of the sun through the leaves. I saw the faint "thumbnail" of the moon that still glowed as I cranked up the slopes of Stillwell and I tried my hardest to take it all in. As much as I was focusing on my cadence (spinning up the slope, nice and smooth, high rpm, yada yada) I also tried to really SEE my ride for a change.
This got me to thinking. I (like many of you reading this) have logged many, many miles on my faithful steed. I see all sorts of things but I sort of let them wash over me in my zeal to pedal faster or more efficiently. I think as cyclists we sometimes get a little "blindered" to what's going on around us and we forget that the way we travel puts us more in tune with the earth than our metal clad brethren (or sistren) and we should take a moment or two on every ride we do - no matter the conditions or the purpose - to try to fully and consciously acknowledge that. Even if its just to acknowledge a rider going the other direction with a simple raise of the hand.
I will be riding this year to help the children at Sunrise Day Camp have the opportunity to attend camp for the summer. I know there will be times that some of them will be very weak from their treatments and won't be able to physically do a lot of the things they love to do - like ride their bikes. So for now, when I ride I will think about them and ride for those who can't now ride or ride in the future. And every time I ride I'm going to try to find the time to truly and really enjoy that moment of the ride without thinking about tactics, cadence, rpm, heart rate or any of the other competitive parts of riding. Just ride, just feel, just realize in honor of those kids who can't.
Through Connorsarmy.org we've already started registering riders for the Third Annual Victory Ride to help these kids, so if you haven't already, register to join us - even if you do it in the comfort of your environs. Whatever you do, when you ride for those kids try to enjoy it - "every, every minute".
Stay well and well see you on the road.
First of all, you have to know that at the tender age of ten my daughter Sarah is a die-hard environmentalist. She has held "Save the Earth" parties for her birthday and she is raising money to replant the trees that have been chopped down on Main Street in the town where we live (see her website projectlemonaid.org for more on that). She is working on a project in her class to "adopt" a polar bear and track it. The joke around our house is whenever we see someone has left the lights on we say, " is killing the polar bears!" to indicate the waste of energy and the contribution to global warming.
That being said, this being the first truly warm commute morning of the season I was basking in the warmth that was coming down from above. Plants are starting to bud and even though there is ice on the ground (and in the pond I pass on the Stillwell climb) there is the sense of the earth waking up again after our bouts with "Snowmageddon". I found myself wondering, do people actually get to experience this when they're in their cars? Of course I know the obvious answer but as I kept pedaling along I found myself noticing the little things that so often go unnoticed.
I saw the squirrels running in the distance (of course I kept a wary eye out for them since I've heard too many drive-by squirreling stories) and the sound the leaves made as they rustled. I saw the dappling of the sun through the leaves. I saw the faint "thumbnail" of the moon that still glowed as I cranked up the slopes of Stillwell and I tried my hardest to take it all in. As much as I was focusing on my cadence (spinning up the slope, nice and smooth, high rpm, yada yada) I also tried to really SEE my ride for a change.
This got me to thinking. I (like many of you reading this) have logged many, many miles on my faithful steed. I see all sorts of things but I sort of let them wash over me in my zeal to pedal faster or more efficiently. I think as cyclists we sometimes get a little "blindered" to what's going on around us and we forget that the way we travel puts us more in tune with the earth than our metal clad brethren (or sistren) and we should take a moment or two on every ride we do - no matter the conditions or the purpose - to try to fully and consciously acknowledge that. Even if its just to acknowledge a rider going the other direction with a simple raise of the hand.
I will be riding this year to help the children at Sunrise Day Camp have the opportunity to attend camp for the summer. I know there will be times that some of them will be very weak from their treatments and won't be able to physically do a lot of the things they love to do - like ride their bikes. So for now, when I ride I will think about them and ride for those who can't now ride or ride in the future. And every time I ride I'm going to try to find the time to truly and really enjoy that moment of the ride without thinking about tactics, cadence, rpm, heart rate or any of the other competitive parts of riding. Just ride, just feel, just realize in honor of those kids who can't.
Through Connorsarmy.org we've already started registering riders for the Third Annual Victory Ride to help these kids, so if you haven't already, register to join us - even if you do it in the comfort of your environs. Whatever you do, when you ride for those kids try to enjoy it - "every, every minute".
Stay well and well see you on the road.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Back inthe Saddle Again
Okay, so I have fallen off the blog wagon in a very hard (and very prolonged) way. I looked back over my archive and realized that its been FIFTEEN (15!) months since I last composed a blog. To be honest, I really didn't have a reason to.
You see, after the last Victory Ride didn't happen on January 1, 2009 (due to the massive ice storm the night before) I was bummed. We tried to figure out how to make it happen later that spring but the logistics were just never in our favor. For the original Jan. 1 date we had 10 of us willing to go and we even e-mailed back and forth that morning but I ultimately had to check the road conditions and cancel. It was really a let down, especially since Channel 12 News had actually decided to film us taking off and coming back that day.
Well after 15 months of soul-searching and thinking we're ecstatic to announce that THE VICTORY RIDE IS HAPPENING AGAIN!
You see, another reason why I've been silent is that I wasn't really as excited about posting since I didn't feel as if I was raising money for the cancer community. In my head I guess I thought that no one would be interested in following this blog anymore since I wasn't doing my year long fundraising commute. I've still been riding and logging 3,000 miles in commuting miles in 2009 but I just haven't been keeping up with the blogging aspect. Another reason is that the way we had it set up before, it was more difficult to update the blog. But, now as you see, I've joined the cyber community of blogspot.com and now I have no excuses for being able to update my blogs since I can do it from virtually any computer.
However, the biggest impetus in this new post is the reason the Victory Ride is returning. In the past fifteen months (and a lot of soul searching) I have found another cause for which to raise funds and that is Sunrise Day Camp. I really believe in their mission and I know the monies we raise will be appreciated. So this year, the Victory Ride will happen again and it will happen on April 18, 2010 and it will happen to benefit Sunrise Day Camp. You can find out more about them at www.sunrisedaycamp.org. I'm excited about this new opportunity to help the cancer community in a way that is meaningful and will touch the lives of some of the youngest members of the cancer community in ways that we the riders can only imagine.
You see, after the last Victory Ride didn't happen on January 1, 2009 (due to the massive ice storm the night before) I was bummed. We tried to figure out how to make it happen later that spring but the logistics were just never in our favor. For the original Jan. 1 date we had 10 of us willing to go and we even e-mailed back and forth that morning but I ultimately had to check the road conditions and cancel. It was really a let down, especially since Channel 12 News had actually decided to film us taking off and coming back that day.
Well after 15 months of soul-searching and thinking we're ecstatic to announce that THE VICTORY RIDE IS HAPPENING AGAIN!
You see, another reason why I've been silent is that I wasn't really as excited about posting since I didn't feel as if I was raising money for the cancer community. In my head I guess I thought that no one would be interested in following this blog anymore since I wasn't doing my year long fundraising commute. I've still been riding and logging 3,000 miles in commuting miles in 2009 but I just haven't been keeping up with the blogging aspect. Another reason is that the way we had it set up before, it was more difficult to update the blog. But, now as you see, I've joined the cyber community of blogspot.com and now I have no excuses for being able to update my blogs since I can do it from virtually any computer.
However, the biggest impetus in this new post is the reason the Victory Ride is returning. In the past fifteen months (and a lot of soul searching) I have found another cause for which to raise funds and that is Sunrise Day Camp. I really believe in their mission and I know the monies we raise will be appreciated. So this year, the Victory Ride will happen again and it will happen on April 18, 2010 and it will happen to benefit Sunrise Day Camp. You can find out more about them at www.sunrisedaycamp.org. I'm excited about this new opportunity to help the cancer community in a way that is meaningful and will touch the lives of some of the youngest members of the cancer community in ways that we the riders can only imagine.
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