I like to play tennis. I like to compete. It’s very difficult for me to play tennis without competing. That makes playing tennis with my wife a challenge, although I am pleased and almost amazed that I am able to say she makes an effort to understand why that is important to me. When we first played tennis together, she commented that I hit the ball back to her too hard, or with too much spin. Even when I dialed it down considerably, it was difficult for her. She hadn’t played much tennis, so there was a learning curve. But, as a single mother of two boys, she is used to learning to play sports at a boy’s level. I may be in my sixties, but I am still a boy in an older man’s body. So I was thrilled when she decided to play singles in a league, and she started encouraging me to bring it on when we played. All of a sudden, she was able to compete with me. The top spin is no longer an issue. I still have to hold back some, but it’s fun to be on the court with her.
The schedule for the indoor doubles season came out January 18. From the way I started this blog entry, it probably sounds like I am going to say that I signed up to play with Lisa as my partner. While I hope for that some day, it’s not happening yet. My partner for the indoor season is Lisa’s son, Carl. In Lisa’s eyes, that’s better than having her as my partner. She is excited when I do things with Carl, and having him as my tennis partner really makes her happy. Carl’s father doesn’t do much with him, never has, and he soaks up any attention I am able to give to him. It’s a mutual thing. I like having him around. Plus, he is 40, tall and athletic, and he’s very coachable.
We played our first match last Wednesday evening, won in straight sets. I was very relaxed, largely due to the way my partner cooperated with me, and that relaxation led to me being able to consistently hit shots and serves that I normally don’t make. Suddenly, my kick serve was working, as was my power serve. A kick serve is hit with the ball tossed behind the head and the racket moving to the side, creating a top and side spin that can be very confusing to the player receiving the serve. That serve, coupled with Carl charging the net, helped us to control the tempo of the game. I was seeing the court well, played smart. Carl was looking to learn a few things from me, and I think I was able to accomplish that. I showed him where to play on the court, positioned him in the best place to receive our opponent’s serve, and how to look for our opponents’ weaknesses. Our opponents left the court open in too many places, and I showed him how to recognize that. These are skills I learned from playing with my son, who is also an excellent tennis player. Some day, I hope he is able to be my partner again, because I learn a lot from him when he plays with me.
Also, my arthritic knee seemed to be fine, something I didn’t realize until the match was complete. The knee felt fluid, was moving normally. Interesting. My doctor gave me a cortisone shot a few weeks ago. It’s helping.
We’ll see how the season goes. There are still four matches to play. It certainly started well.
What do you think when spouses take breaks from each other?
My wife is away from me right now, at Disneyworld, enjoying the relative warmth of Orlando while I endure the rigors of an ice storm in Chicagoland. She had a Disney time share when i married her, and I appreciate that. Not only does she visit Orlando a few times a year, she profits from friends purchasing discounted Disney from her ($2000 last week).
I kind of like the time away. I also don’t like it. Strange to be without her. OK to have some quiet time.
Disney is ok for me once a yeaar, or less. She goes several times a year.
Last year, she went at the end of July, took her granddaughter. I went to Arkansas, rode my mountain bike.
Winter is finally setting in around here, here being the Chicago area, like it is in most of the country. Last week saw the arrival of the area’s first significant snowfall, a wet mess last Tuesday that amounted to a pretty bunch of puddles. It brought the white of the season, however, a welcome beauty that I prefer over the dreary browns. While it doesn’t make for good riding weather, if it’s going to be cold, I at least want to be able to enjoy God’s masterpiece of creation in white. There is something truly magnificent about trees draped and drooping with the weight of pure white. Of course, January inevitably also brings frigid temperatures, forcing even the most hardy of individuals to retreat indoors. What follows is often described as the doldrums.
Depression. Boredom. Cabin fever.
I’m not sure that is what is happening in our house. Lisa is not one to sit still for long, although she does indulge in a Sunday afternoon nap or quiet time almost every weekend. She recharges with Hallmark on the bedroom TV, candles lit , shades drawn..while she plans our next adventure. We spent all last week getting ready to host a murder mystery party at our place, a game called Murder at the Winery. Invitations were sent to everyone, each person assigned a character to play and with suggested garb to wear to the party — Otto Van Schnapps (lederhosen), Marilyn Merlot (starlet in evening gown), Hedy Shablee (hippy owner of a competing vineyard), Papa Vito (old vineyard caretaker), Tiny Bubbles (married to the vineyard owner), and Ralph Rottingrape (bad boy and owner). Extra cast were Bud Wizer (investigator) and Bonny Lass (reporter), which we didn’t use. A great time was had by all, with good food (cooked by yours truly) and delicious wine.
Each person played their part with gusto. I guessed the murderer! Lisa got a kick out of the magnetic earring I wore, as well as the fake cigarette.
She’s already planning our next party.
Lisa leaves for Disney this coming weekend. I’m staying home while she plays, but I will be cooking up a few batches of white chili for a chili cookoff at church this Sunday evening. The recipe is very good, although I usually like to make a traditional chili, but every time I make the white chili it gets rave reviews. I’m making the white based on that. Do I think I will win? Probably not, but it’s fun. There will probably be at least 30 chilis in the “competition”.
I also started taking guitar lessons two weeks ago. A few months ago, I bought a nice Ibanez acoustic guitar through the rewards program at work, using the Bravo cash that coworkers had awarded me. I figured a few things out using the internet, mainly dexterity exercises, but it became obvious that lessons were going to be necessary if I was really going to learn to play. My first lesson was a free intro, with my first real lesson last Wednesday. I have already learned a few chords, can play a C major scale, and know a few bars of two songs — 25 or 6 to 4 and Carry on My Wayward Son. Playing the guitar is a challenge, but I am having a good time trying to figure it out.
I don’t really want to learn to play so that I can play in public. One of the things that I admire about my son-in-law is that he incorporates playing the guitar and singing in his personal worship time. He has a notebook of songs that he uses for his own worship time. I love to sing, and already know how much it enhances my own worship. I’m not sure anyone else enjoys my singing, but I am confident that God does. When I was a boy, I watched my mother playing the piano, saw how her playing was her way of praying. I am hoping that I can do that with guitar. It’s going to be a while before I can play well enough to do that, but it’s one of the motivating factors for wanting to learn to play.
I have already put together a jigsaw puzzle. It took me a few days, but I was determined to finish it. Rarely do I stay up past 10 PM, but I stayed up past 11 one night last week because I wasn’t going to sleep until that puzzle was complete. It only stayed together for one day. We had a party to get ready for!
Indoor doubles tennis starts this week. My stepson is going to be my partner. He’s tall. We make a pretty good team.
Fight those winter doldrums! How do you keep yourself motivated during this time of year?
This time of year can be a conundrum for some cyclists, especially those who have to deal with cold climate conditions. I am one of those those, with most of my adult life spent in the Chicago area or in central Illinois. Illinois winters can be mild or they can be brutal, with few that are in between. If one wants to continue to ride outside, they must be willing to dress in many layers and wear clothing that protects from moisture (and yes, that means I wear tights). Winters turn nasty cold, with temperatures often dipping below zero, or staying in the teens for long periods. Icy conditions means studded tires, with rides followed by wiping everything down on the bike, including the chain. Rust and grit come on very quickly.
I don’t like to ride indoors, so it’s ride outside or find another indoor exercise to keep my body humming. For a while, I paid for indoor training bike training classes that kept me motivated by fueling my competitive juices. They were Compu-trainer classes that control resistance to the rear wheel and show progress on the trainer course, with speed and power output for each rider, turning many classes into as much of a race as a training class. The benefits of those classes were excellent, allowing me to maintain the fitness from the outdoor riding season, and giving me a good fitness base to start with come Spring.
Those classes are not an option for me now, even though I am at a point in my life where the expense of the classes is no longer a challenge. When I proposed to my now wife, I needed to sell my road bikes, mainly because there would be no room for them in the one car garage we share. I also quit riding the road for the most part, my passion more for off road. Believe it or not, riding off road is safer than riding the road. In the Chicago suburbs, there is a lot of road rage, rage that gets directed at cyclists who are seen by many as a nuisance (the logic of that thinking still escapes me). When I ride off road,the risk of injury is mostly due to my own mistakes, not cars or even the negligence of another cyclist. So I ride a very, very, very nice mountain bike off road now. When I can’t ride singletrack, I ride a fat tired bike on the crushed limestone paths close to my condo.
The good thing about being a mountain biker in cold climates is that it’s possible to ride singletrack in cold weather. It’s actually better in some respects. The dirt freezes, so if there is no ice or snow, I can ride singletrack. Some guys have studded tires and ride the icy trails. I won’t do that. I break easily, and sometimes studded tires get ice packed, so the tires slip out from underneath. That hurts, sometimes breaks bones.
It’s been mild, but rainy around here. This week has been rides out on the crushed limestone paths through the woods. Today, I donned my winter riding clothes and ventured out in my thick tights. Any ride feels good. I stayed warm, and the ride will keep my furnace burning. That means weight loss — over 35 pounds so far. It won’t be long before I am at my high school weight. That’s another motivation to get out and endure the cold.
The big R is looming, growing bigger each day, a sign that it is approaching. Am I ready, or I should say, are WE ready? Figuring it out is a bit of a challenge, the puzzle pieces numerous but we probably have most of the outside pieces together. Now we just have to fill in the middle.
Retirement. I’m 62, my wife 64, and soon we will need to have most of it figured out. Lisa figures to work another 2-3 years. I am planning on working to 67, maybe a little longer. It really depends on how long it takes us to figure it out. It’s scary and exciting all at once, the anticipation a bit like a child waiting for Christmas. Oh, and we both have retirement countdown apps on our phones. On challenging work days, I check the app just to keep me motivated.
Finances are something that most people looking towards retirement are focused on. Lisa and I want to be able to live on what we get from social security, and that affects some of the things we are contemplating. Our condo is tiny, a little over 1000 square feet, two bedrooms, two baths, a galley kitchen, one car garage. While we are certain that we would be OK living in our condo after we retire, we dream of having a small house that is large enough for us to have space for storage and a room (or two) that we can dedicate to our hobbies (or even to get some quiet time). Our wish list for a house is fairly short — a large enough yard to be able to enjoy plants and a garden, a patio or deck. Lisa wants to live somewhere warm, I want to live close to a singletrack bike trail system. At this time, we both are trying to figure out what each one likes in terms of housing. We are also a bit afraid of what is happening in the housing market. Living in a house may not fit in our budget.
Houses are expensive. That is affecting where we are looking to live. Places like Indiana, Alabama, Arkansas, Tennessee (like everyone else), Kentucky, West Virginia, North Carolina are all states we have considered. Yesterday, we looked online at houses for sale in Terre Haute, Indiana. There are a lot of nice houses at prices that would fit in our anticipated budget. I found a house there that I fell in love with — and Lisa liked it to. We’re tempted to go look at it this weekend. Terre Haute is just a few hours drive
One thing Lisa has suggested is continuing to live in our condo, and renting a house or apartment somewhere else a few months a year. It’s an intriguing idea, especially considering the financial aspect.
I can’t wrap my mind around what life will be like as a retiree. Lisa sees a lot of travel opportunities. I simply like the idea of a quiet life, with coffee and my bible each morning, plenty of bike rides, enjoying the church we go to and doing the things there we don’t have time for now. What I do know is that I am looking forward to being with Lisa each day. I am so blessed to have her!
Retirement is close, but there are still a few years left to go. A lot could happen between now and then.
I get a lot of emails each work day. It’s my job to answer phone calls and emails. A great deal of my work tasks come from a group email queue that my team shares. But I also have my own work email address, which is reserved (mostly) for internal communications, scheduling meetings, human resources announcements, shared information between teams and my own team. Around August, I started receiving emails in my own inbox about a program called Wondr. They were an advertisement, an offer for one of the many perks offered by human resources, this one a health enhancement program which is something the company I work for is good about promoting. There are joint health, mental health, diabetes, and many other programs my company offers in an effort to enhance the lives of their employees. It’s a very good thing. They also send flyers to my home, so many times I treat them like junk mail.
The first few Wondr emails were opened and quickly discarded. My job is fairly demanding, busy, and I sometimes don’t pay attention to communications that are not directly related to work tasks. But I did pay some attention to the Wondr emails, chiefly because my weight gain has been more pronounced this year. Wondr is a weight loss and healthy lifestyle program. I saw that it was being promoted as a benefit through my health insurance, so if approved, the program would be free to me. One day late in August, while limping around after a particularly tough tennis match, my right knee complaining, I opened my work email to another Wondr promotion. I knew that my weight gain was stressing the knee even more. With the prospect of a knee replacement looming, I wondered if losing weight would alleviate or at least delay the need for a knee replacement. The program was free. Why not sign up for it? I wouldn’t be out any money if I decided not to do it. The process of signing up was fairly simple, although it required a few minutes to complete.
After the forms were filled out, I received an email that told me I was approved. The next step was to decide when I wanted to start. Labor day weekend was looming, so I didn’t want to start before then. I covered my eyes, pointed my finger at the September calendar on my desk. September 10. A few more emails followed, one with a link to an app I would be using for the program, another to use when communicating through my laptop PC. I would be getting a link to a series of emails I would need to watch on September 10, with more videos to watch each week.
I also had to weigh myself the first day. My weight? 230. At 6’1″ and 62 years, that’s not healthy, even for someone as active as I am. The first videos concentrated on the habits of eating, especially on why and when a person eats. There are 4 levels of hunger, I was told — level 1 being full after a meal, level 2 that in between state of hunger, level 3 the feeling of actually being hungry, and level 4 being past the point of hunger. My task for the first week was to concentrate on recognizing when my hunger level is at level 3, to eat a meal only when at level 3. I also needed to drink at least 60 ounces of water a day. There was also encouragement to do what is called a sugar reset for 6 weeks, which is simply avoiding any form of processed sugar during that time period. The Wondr counselors also advised that the program works best if I weigh myself the first thing in the morning and track my weight through the app.
There was more guidance, but I won’t bore with the details.
The first two days, I lost 5 pounds. Weight loss has been steady. There was one day I was sick, didn’t feel like eating, and my weight was down 4 pounds the next day.
Since September 10, I have gone from a little over 230 pounds to 198 pounds. It’s been a while since I have seen that on the scale.
Here is what I look like as I write tonight’s blog (the beard happened a few months ago). I don’t care to post a before picture!
It has been accomplished, the anticipated chat with my daughter and her husband. She messaged me early last Sunday morning, asked if Lisa and I would be available sometime during the day. It was 7:30 AM our time, 1:30 PM their time. We had a few minutes before needing to get ready for church, so I responded ‘How about NOW?’. And…they were ready.
We chat using FB Messenger, always reliable and good quality. Gone are the days, long gone, of expensive phone calls. Alyssa and Mason popped up on my phone screen, in the middle of a nice picnic shelter at the campground they were staying at in Turkey. There were tall bluffs in the background, and they informed us they had just climbed the face of one of them (Mason is a rock climber). We caught up a bit, talked about how things were going, then my daughter prepped us for the big announcement. It was one of the possibilities I had suspected.
They are considering leaving their teaching jobs in Ankara, will likely be accepting teaching positions at a Christian school in Bolivia. The excitement was written all over the both of them, bubbling out of each of them, and we were immediately thrilled for them. I like the way they communicate with each other, are obviously a team, and the decision was not a singular one. Not only have they consulted with each other, but they have participated in interviews together, have prayed together about it. Mason shared with us how, two weeks ago during his quiet time (a time of prayer), he felt God leading him and telling him it was time to make a change. Their time in Turkey was complete, and there was more waiting for them somewhere else. Alyssa had the same experience that day during her own quiet time, before Mason had shared with her. Both are feeling God’s prompting, are willing to be obedient to His leading. It may strange to be basing a major life decision on what you feel God is telling you to do, but it’s real, and unless you have experienced God’s leading, it’s difficult to understand. I am glad I have experienced it and can understand why Mason and Alyssa are able to trust the way that they do.
My thoughts go back just 5 or 6 years ago, when my daughter called me from college with an announcement. She was going to take a job teaching at a school in Ankara, Turkey. Don’t try to discourage me from doing it, she told me, because I am going to do it. In the same way, she approached the decision prayerfully. God has honored her for it. Turkey has been a beautiful time of her life, the place where she not only met a man so perfect for her that I say I couldn’t have picked anyone better (after all, God picked him for her), but a place where she has succeeded as a music teacher. When she came to the school, the band program was just a tiny handful of students, an afterthought in the school curriculum. Now students are clamoring to be part of the music program, a flourishing band program at all levels. Not only has she done well with her teaching, but the student ministry at the church she attends with Mason has grown by leaps and bounds with their leadership. They can move on to Bolivia knowing that they have started a ministry that will continue to prosper after they leave.
They also have a wonderful, supportive, deep group of friends there. I was so encouraged when Lisa and I met their friends this past summer.
When Alyssa called me from college with the news of Turkey, I was skeptical. I wanted to trust God, wanted to believe it would be all right for her, but I was scared. Now, I see what a valuable and unique richness her time in Turkey has given her. The woman I spent time with last June had matured so much, better because of what she has learned simply by believing God would bless her. It’s incredible. So, with the announcement of a new adventure to Bolivia, I can’t help but believe that she and Mason will be enriched so much more. I can’t wait to see what is going to happen in their lives, to hear how they have touched the lives of the people they will meet there. Their lives, already expanded beyond imagination, will be filled with so much more. Just think, they are just 27 years old, have experienced so much more than most simply because they have been willing to step out into the unknown!
The next announcement had BETTER be baby related. I’m just saying.
They finish out the school year, then come back to the States next June, their belongings packed into suitcases. The belongings they pack in those suitcases will be what they take with them to Bolivia at the end of July. Lisa and I are hosting them in our small condo during June and July, something we are really looking forward to. My tears are coming at the thought — there has been a lot of healing in my relationship with my daughter since the divorce six years ago. The fact that she wants to stay with us says a lot, and I am humbled by God’s grace, at the opportunity for more healing. We are also going to Disney with them, so it’s going to be a COOL summer!
All announced. All is well. All is calm. All is satisfied.
Here I sit, still at my desk, albeit at home as it is one of my non office days. It’s odd to think that working from home has become my normal, going to the office my alternative and the least favorite choice of workplace. It doesn’t hurt that the office is 40 miles away, a hectic tollway commute, and a good part of the reason I like working from home is the time and money savings. I get a lot more bang for my buck. I also get a lot more of my chores done during the week, cook better meals, recharge and recover. It’s a win. Thank you, pandemic, for making this the new normal (even though I started working from home before the pandemic).
My daughter messaged me two days ago.
We have an announcement we want to share. Perhaps we can video chat soon? It’s NOT pregnancy related.
I have been waiting for the news of a baby on the way. Guess that wait will continue. When Lisa and I visited Alyssa and Mason this past summer, they told us her work schedule was going to part time, all in preparation for a baby. My daughter plans. She’s a teacher, is enjoying her new schedule, with her mornings free. Not one to sit around eating bon bons, I know she is making good use of her time. BUT, knowing she is a planner has me chomping at the bit wanting to find out what that announcement is. Scheduling that chat is a challenge, because they are 8 hours ahead of us, and also are very busy.
It’s ironic, but also not ironic, that I am more in touch with my daughter than I am my son. He lives 15 minutes away, works in the town I live in, yet I hear from him rarely. When I hear from him, it’s quick communication, and often it has to do with him wanting money or help. I have a tendency to avoid the money talk, am more than happy to help him with a task. It’s probably why I sometimes hesitate to reach out to him. I have a lot more experience to share than funds to share, plus I feel like helping him to understand how to make use of what he has is a lot more important than just giving him money. Unfortunately, my ex doesn’t have that philosophy, has gone into serious debt more than once to help him out.
Oops, I just went to the old blame the ex well. Maybe I shouldn’t lower the bucket?
My daughter communicates, and does that very well. She also has worked hard to understand my situation, and does better at treating me like her father as a result. I hope my son gets there. He is doing better with accepting the divorce and remarriage, but he still is uncomfortable with it. We have always been about doing things together, have built a relationship on that since he was a little boy, and he shows his appreciation of that now and then. Both kids make me proud, and my relationship with them has survived the five years since the divorce.
Isn’t it wonderful that I just dive into a blog without a real plan?
ANY WAY (or any hoo, as one of my brothers likes to say), it’s driving me nuttier trying to figure out what news my daughter has to share. If it’s not baby news, what is it? A new job? Are they moving? Even better, are they moving back to the States? More than one person would be glad if they do, especially if it’s close AND the next announcement is a grandchild.
I’m too young to be a grandpa, aren’t I? Technically, I am a grandpa, but only a step grandpa to an almost 14 year old tall blonde girl. Good thing I raised a daughter. The granddaughter has plenty of boys interested in her, including an 18 year old high school senior (he’s a nice kid who goes to our church, so actually not too bad of a thing).
Maybe it’s something simple, like they bought a new car or a home? Could they have adopted another cat? Welcomed a puppy into their home? It’s possible my bald son-in-law is getting hair plugs. Or they decided to start their own business or church?
OK, that’s enough. It’s too late in the day to message them right now. It’s 2 AM where they are.
What am I going to make for dinner? Lisa gets home in 30 minutes…….
I can now say I have tasted the delicious delights of one of the trail systems Bentonville, Arkansas has to offer. Yesterday morning, I ventured to Bentonville, not sure what to expect but tingling with anticipation.
Tingling probably isn’t an accurate description. However, I am sure you get the drift. This ride is a bucket list ride, after all. As I approached the exit to Walton boulevard off of I-49, I caught a glimpse of ‘the Hub’ in the woods, a much talked about wooden feature that serves as the trail head for several downhill trails. It looked as awesome as I expected, enough to create a bit of trepidation in me. After all, I am 62 and probably an intermediate level rider on Illinois trails. I was going to have to up my game! Not only was I going to have to endure longer, rockier, a bit more technical climbs than I am used to, but I would have to overcome the tricks my mind would play on me when I arrived at the Hub. A large part of mountain biking is dealing with what my mind tells me I can or can not do. Muscles are necessary to be able to accomplish some of the more difficult trail challenges, but the largest muscle on a mountain bike (on any bike) is the brain.
I found the Bark park lot, the most central parking location if I wanted to ride Slaughter Pen. The singletrack trails in Bentonville all break out from a greenway that spans the city, with all the singletrack contained along the paved greenway trail and interwoven into the city. It’s an impressive concept that has turned Bentonville into a cycling destination, with a lot of housing communities focused on cycling. There are a lot of rental options, very nice, along the trails for mountain bikers to stay. Before parking, I drove around the city a bit, impressed at what a great place for biking it is.
I parked, donned my FiveTen bike shoes, helmet and gloves, filled my water bottle, then pulled my Salsa mountain bike off the back of my Subaru. The greenway was adjacent to the parking lot, with a trail guide sign that showed me where all the trail systems were located, including the Slaughter Pen trails. My friends were right about the Bark park being the best place to park. I was 800 yards from the entrance to the trails.
By the way, it was over ninety degrees at 9 AM. I was going to need more than one water bottle. Thank goodness there were ample opportunities to refresh my water bottle. During my ride, I stopped at a jump park, rode the jumps (what a hoot!!!), and had to take a break due to my head starting to swim! I remembered that feeling from many of the hot road rides I endured years ago. My experience helped me, as the only physical ailment I had after the ride was a sour stomach from the sugar in the Chick-Fil-A chocolate shake and sweet tea I downed shortly after I finished my ride. I knew better than to down that much sugar when my body was still in absorb mode, but it tasted soooooo good.
I followed a large family along the paved greenway on my way to the Slaughter Pen trailhead, kids excitedly chattering to their parents while they rode. When we got to the entrance, the whole family stopped in front of me, then immediately jumped on one of the easy green trails, so numerous along the whole trail system. I jumped on a green trail into the Slaughter Pen, then took one of the blue intermediate trails that announced it would lead me to the top of the downhill trail hub. The climbing was tough, especially in the heat, but I forged ahead with anticipation of what was to come. There were plenty of flat and downhill sections even on the way to the top, with features such as banked wood corners, skinny rocks to negotiate, little jumps, rocks and roots to climb over. The surface of the trails was hard red clay, with lot of scrabble (rocks). That was all part of the magic of the ride, as I am used to more dirt with sand mixed in at the trails I ride near home. I enjoyed getting used to riding the clay.
I made it to the top, forced myself up to the top of the Hub, stopped to take a water break. It also was a chance to get my mind ready for another type of riding that would be somewhat new to me — downhill trail riding. I clicked back into my pedals, dropped off the Hub, and began my descent. In my mind, I was going to fight the temptation to ride the brakes. The reward was catching air, a rush that is hard to describe. Think about what it’s like to ride a roller coaster, except you’re riding a roller coaster you are in control of. I made it to the bottom, exhausted, but exhilarated. A part of me wanted to go back up for another shot, but the sensible part of me told me that this old man probably would be better off taking it easy for a while. There were plenty more trails to explore, so many that I wouldn’t be able to get to many of them in the two days I am riding in Bentonville.
There were plenty of highlights to simply see, touristy stuff in a cycling sort of way. There were artwork and statues all over the place. My favorite was a statue made out of old bicycle chains and crank arms. I also came upon a marker in the woods that upped my admiration for Dubya (yes, I am a conservative). George W had challenged the group he was riding with to climb a very steep, treacherous, and long climb, then proceeded to climb it without stopping. I attempted it, made it halfway before my rear wheel washed out on the loose rock. At the top of the climb was a rhino statue. I thought it was an ironic tribute to the president who followed Bill Clinton, in the state and area where Clinton was from.
All in all, I was out on the trails for a little over three hours. I was pleasantly tired, anticipating more riding with a group of locals that evening. That ride didn’t happen, as a thunderstorm rolled in a hour or so after I finished my ride. I am supposed to ride with my son-in-law this afternoon, and I am hoping the trails won’t be too wet. After toweling off, I found a Chick-Fil-A, refueled and downed that large dose of stomach churning sugar, drove back to my Airbnb for a shower and nap. Later in the evening, I visited one of the quieter little craft breweries in downtown Fayetteville, watch the Cardinals win while I had a nice stout and slice of pizza. Some of the locals sat with me at the bar, talked my arm off, a welcome break from the alone time I have had the last few days. It was nice, especially since I am missing my wife, something I knew would happen. She is having fun at Disney, her gift to me a chance to get out and do what I enjoy, but having her next to me is a priceless gift.
More adventures to come. More riding today, as well as some time with my daughter and son-in-law. I am having dinner with his family tonight. They are from Fayetteville and have been here on furlough this past year. It’s a good opportunity for me to get to know my daughter’s inlaws a bit better.
What a laid back and relaxed time I have had so far! Fayetteville hasn’t disappointed. It’s a nice town with lots of cool places to go. I ate a tasty burger with goat cheese, sprouts, and sweet potato chips on it at a place called Nomad’s last night, an eclectic little cafe right next to one of the many bike paths in town. I thought about visiting one of the many craft breweries, but just wasn’t in the mood. Drinking by myself just isn’t my thing, although I am pretty sure I am going to taste the local brew before the visit to Fayetteville is over.
The Airbnb I am renting is awesome, a new little two story house in Fayetteville, right next to Centennial bike park. There is a huge two story garage on the first level, with a very nice one bedroom apartment above. When I got here yesterday, I was two hours early, so I parked at the Centennial trailhead, changed into my bike clothes and headed out. The trails at Centennial are nice, aren’t close to being the best in the NW Arkansas area, but my appetite is whetted for what I am going to ride in Bentonville today. I am riding the Slaughter Pen trails this morning, resting up this afternoon, then joining a group ride at the Coler preserve trails this evening. It’s hot outside, but yesterday didn’t take anything out of me, and I didn’t even think about the heat until I turned on the air conditioning in my car. It felt arctic cold after riding in 90+ degree temperatures for a few hours.
Tomorrow, I am riding with my son-in-law and his family. I am looking forward to it, as I had a good time getting to know his father during the wedding week two years ago. Mason’s family is from this area, and his parents have been here the past year while they are on furlough from their jobs teaching at the school in Ankara. I may also get together with an old friend and his wife, my former pastor when I was in my teens. I touched base with him yesterday, and he is close by. He met my daughter recently, when he and his wife visited the school she teaches at. It’s a small world!
Mother, Nehiyaw, Metis, & Itisahwâkan - career communicator. This is my collection of opinions, stories, and the occasional rise to, or fall from, challenge. In other words, it's my party, I can fun if I want to. Artwork by aaronpaquette.net
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