Sun’s Out

Sun’t out and it’s Monday morning.  Of course.  That’s the way the weather rolls in Chicagoland.  After a murky weekend, I drove through fog this morning and then was greeted by glorious parting clouds at sunrise.  Halfway through my commute through the southwest suburbs, I pass by a place called Sauganuskee Slough (I know I spelled it wrong), a gloriously beautiful body of water that always is gorgeous at sunrise.  I think I may have used a picture of the slough as my blog header at one time.

Despite the rain and clouds all weekend, it was an enjoyable weekend.  I love being outside, especially in the woods, but that wasn’t to be.  Instead, I spent Saturday morning being a responsible adult, not always a possibility for me, with most of my chores accomplished.  I failed to get my grocery shopping done, but did at least get my week’s menu and shopping list done.  I also wanted to shampoo my carpets, but did manage to purchase the shampoo (the good stuff, with Febreeze).

The annual condo doubles tennis tournament was supposed to happen at 9 AM, a tournament that Nate and I won (mostly Nate — the kid is incredibly good) last year.  It was drizzly and wet, so the tournament was postponed until 1 PM.  I helped brush off the puddles and soak up the water with towels, then we played the tournament.  My friend, John, filled in as my partner since my partner (Carl) was having girlfriend issues and couldn’t play.  Nate is away at college.  We squeaked out another tennis title, neither of us played our best tennis but still managing to make the plays at the right time.  The final set was decided in a tie breaker.

I went to play video games with Lisa and her granddaughter on Friday night.  What a blast!  We played a version of air hockey that dropped a bunch of tiny brightly colored pucks all at once in the middle of the game.  Haileigh was delighted.  We both suffered through a few rounds of Dance Dance Revolution, as well.  Saturday night was Mexican train dominoes with Lisa, Haileigh, and Joan (Lisa’s sister) to celebrate Joan’s birthday.  I won in obnoxious fashion.  Don’t play board games or watch baseball with me if you can’t take someone who celebrates each and every point.

The Cardinals clinched the NL central yesterday.  I celebrated quietly.  Lisa and I took Haileigh home Sunday afternoon, then had a nice dinner together as the Bears won.  I hit the sack early last night, 8:30 PM, bushed from the weekend.  I had to tiptoe to bed — the carpet was still damp from being shampooed.

Have a great week — time for work!

One Year

It has been over a year now.  Mom passed at the end of August last year.  The first anniversary of her death has come and gone, uneventful except for a few texts and phone calls with Dad and my brothers.  We are sad, of course, but there is a bit of relief as well.  That may seem odd to say.  It’s true, however.  Mom suffered for over a year, was ready to move on, her eyes on heaven, something she liked to remind us of.  Dad suffered along with her, his life focused on the constant battle with her pain, helpless in a lot of ways.  He did his best, has nothing to be ashamed of, and I think that is helping him now.  I think some people don’t try their hardest when their spouse is suffering, give up in a lot of ways, experience guilt after their spouse passes.  Some just want their spouse to go.  Dad got it right.  I am proud of him.

August is the month for my parents.  Mom’s birthday is in August.  Their wedding anniversary is in August.  Maybe it’s fitting that she died at the end of August.

Dad is 78 years old, still young enough to be active.  He is.  As the time passed after Mom’s death, he has moved past the numbness into a time of grief and loneliness, now is enjoying the time to live without the burden of taking care of someone.  A few times a week, I get report from him about the cars he has driven for his job picking up cars for a dealer.  Yesterday, it was one of my “favorites”, a VW Toureg that he loved to drive and just had to tell me about it, knowing my distaste for VWs after my years driving their money pits.  He has driven Audi, Maserati, Land Rover, Cadillac, Kia, Toyota,… pretty much everything except for Tesla.  For him, it’s a blast.  He is an elder at church now, spends time going to games and events with his sister, is doing all kinds of stuff around the 2 acres he has.  Earlier this year, he planted a large rose garden memorial for Mom.  She loved her roses.

Dad drove up to see Lisa and I last Sunday afternoon.  He had built a garden bench for us out of an old bed headboard and footboard we had rescued from someone’s garbage.  That’s something he also likes to do, woodworking, and the bench is the second he has finished for us.  We will finish it soon, decide where to put it.  Dad took us to lunch, visited with us a little afterwords.  He told us that he took a ‘friend’ to a movie last Friday, the same woman he went to dinner with a few months ago.  I think he wanted to tell us about it, is a little sheepish telling my brothers.  We want him to be happy, know from our own experience that he needs someone to share life with.  It has been a year, we miss Mom, but know she would be ok with him seeing someone as well.  God put us together with a need for companionship, recognized that it wasn’t good for man to be alone, knows that there is a physical connection and an emotional connection that even God can’t fill (yes, I just said there is something God can’t do — I should probably write about that some time….).

I find myself wishing I could talk to my Mom now and then.  She would like Lisa, my girlfriend, just like Dad likes her.  Mom never bonded with my wife, but she would with Lisa, would enjoy getting to know her.  That is something I miss — sharing with her.  It will be fun to catch up when I see her in heaven!

Drizzle

Saturday morning, my morning, the time reserved just for me… mine, mine, mine.  I’m not sure when I claimed the sanctity of that time, but it has been that way for a while now.  Perhaps it is due to what it means to my health, the zen of turning the pedals renews me not only physically but also mentally.  If I miss my Saturday ride, I feel it more than just in my body.  I feel it in my soul.

I rolled eagerly from under the warm embrace of the bedcovers, unaware of the tug of their security, quickly pulled them up and arranged the pillows.  That’s my habit, the tidiness of my small abode as essential to my well being as the zen of the ride.  Judging from the dim light in my bedroom, it was probably dreary weather outside, expected since the weather report was for clouds all morning, followed by rain in the afternoon.  To my dismay, the puddles on my balcony were proof that there had been rain while I slept, but as I looked beyond the balcony to the dirt below, there had not been enough rain to make it muddy.  There had been several days in a row without significant precipitation.  My heart told me that I would be able to ride.

Ken, a retiree who maintains the condo pool, was collecting spare change for the Knights of Colombus at the first stoplight.  “You going to be able to ride that thing?”, he asked as he pointed to my mountain bike, “It rained earlier this morning.”.  I assured him that it hadn’t rained hard enough, but I fretted as I told him that.  Dark clouds loomed in the west.  I hoped to beat the rain, but it looked like it could rain any moment.  I fought the temptation to turn my car around and head back home, do something more constructive with my time than to drive out to the trails only to have to turn back around.  No, I was going to take my chances, even as a bit of drizzle began to mist my windshield.

Please, God, just let the rain hold off long enough for me to get a ride in.

The drizzle continued on and off as I drove.  I tried to remain optimistic, determined to get that ride in.  I needed it.  With the evening light shortened and work preventing me from riding in the morning, Sundays not an option either, my Saturday morning ride is even more essential and sacred.

I unloaded my bike immediately, donned my shoes and helmet and gloves, rode in from the trailhead without checking the trail.  Thankfully, even with the drizzle, the trail was still dry and safe to ride.  My body warmed quickly, a safeguard against the cool moisture that soaked me.  It didn’t matter, I was riding.  The woods were calm, the trails tacky from the light moisture.  Two hours later, I finished my ride, satisfied and pleasantly taxed.  A light rain began to fall, perhaps a reminder from God of the gift I had just received.

What a way to start the day!  I arrived home to partly sunny skies, shared a long walk with Lisa to the grocery store and shared some ice cream with her on the way home.  The day was mine, with plenty of other blessings in store.  It’s amazing what a ride does for me, especially when a prayer brings the blessings amidst the drizzle.

 

How a cyclist plays tennis

If you are a cyclist or have spent any amount of time around cyclists, you are going to understand and relate to this question — what is it about cycling that attracts obsessive personality types?  Case in point is my friend, J, who lives and breathes for the next ride (real or virtual), speaks the constant language of bikes and components, supplements his diet with every little supplement that will enhance his performance.  I contributed to his addiction 15 years ago, the person he attributes for getting him back on the bicycle after his hiatus from triathlons.  The guy is a legend in the western burbs of Chicagoland now, a machine on the bike even after undergoing a full knee replacement.  It was funny listening to the commentator at an indoor virtual race this past January, who described J as the $10,000 man and gushed over J as he demolished everyone in his heat.  That race was less than a year after his knee replacement.

The knee replacement is a another example of J’s obsessive trait.  Before the replacement, he spent nearly every waking hour visiting forums to discuss the types of artificial components with other cyclists.  He shared that with his doctor, wanted to make sure that the surgery wouldn’t affect his performance.  It hasn’t.  J is still a beast.  The only change is that now he only races bike/swim events, the knee making it impractical for him to run.

J and I started playing tennis together this past Spring, something I like to do.  This year has been wet, as well, so tennis became a way to exercise when I can’t ride off road or want a break from riding the limestone rails-to-trails paths.  There is a tennis court at my condo clubhouse, next to the pool, so it’s great to play a few hours followed by a dip in the pool.  This summer, we have become a fixture at the court, residents used to seeing us there and many trash talk us from the pool.  As the summer has progressed, we have played more and more, often playing until dark.

J has taken to tennis like he cycles — he can’t wait until the next game.  He has become that little kid who constantly knocks on the front door and asks if Stevie can come out to play.  We played three hours Sunday, then another two last night, the texts taunting me to play (I wanted to be a couch potato last night!!) starting yesterday afternoon.  It was good.  I needed motivation to get out and exercise yesterday, my 5 AM morning commute and the three hours on the court the night before making my body say no to practically everything.  J has bought three new racquets in the last month, various grips, head and wrist sweat bands, a case of tennis balls, new shoes, tennis attire.  He just posted on FB an announcement of his new joy of tennis, named me as his nemesis.  We have people challenging us to play, residents of my condos that want to dethrone me from last year’s doubles tournament title.

It’s all good.  Tennis is fun and my body is used to the extra pounding that comes from hard court exercise.  Despite a slower season on the bike, I am in better shape than I have been in years… I am no longer a shape, I am in shape.

So, I will keep playing tennis with my obsessed buddy until the next thing comes along.  Soon, Zwift season starts for him, but he’s already looking at tennis club memberships…..

The Kid Is Alright

*smirk* I like the title chosen for today’s blog.  Sometimes, it’s fun to write the title first and hope the content follows along.

The kid really is alright, which means I too am alright, as is his mother.  His mother still is a bit unsure of herself when it comes to raising a male, her experience being raised in a family of eight women with her father the lone male, something that has left her lacking in the male perspective department.  She never really accepted my input as a male, even as she demanded it from me, thus our divorce.  So when she had to let go and let her boy move on to his next stage of independence — college — it was interesting and a bit fun to watch as she tried to control the situation as we moved him in to his dorm suite.  Nate has a way of flat out rejecting that control and it’s something I have not directly witnessed the last two years, due to him living with his mother.  I saw it first hand as we moved him in a week ago.  He’s not mean.  He is actually pretty kind to her, but he has a way of showing that he just wants to do it on his own.

I love seeing that.  The boy has grown a lot in the past two years.  When he needs help, he asks for it, but he tries to do it first before asking.  Nate is learning to take responsibility, something that he sorely needed two years ago when his mother and I split.  I was worried.  But the reason he is at the University of Illinois, studying there on their new free tuition program, is because he took the initiative.  He saved his money to be ready, bought his own Macbook, arranged for his employer to transfer him to their store in Champaign.  I honestly didn’t have to do anything for him besides answer a few questions.. and provide the bicycle that is necessary for him to get around campus.

When he asked me about a bicycle and came over to pick it out of the two I offered up to him, he chose this one.  It was my first mountain bike, still in decent shape even after I beat it up on the trails for two years.  I cleaned it up, made sure it was in good condition, added some white wall tires.  Nate bought a combination style cable lock, which I added to the bike after he bought the lock.  Providing the college bike has been my thing, since I did the same for my daughter.

Nate’s U of I education is being provided tuition free, this semester the first it is being offered.  Since his mother filled out the FAFSA, he qualified for the free tuition program because her income and assets meet the criteria to qualify.  I’m not a Bernie Sanders supporter, but it’s nice to have something from my government that I can see as a clear benefit.  Taxes have destroyed my finances the past few years, so I don’t have a problem getting something back on my contribution to my state.

Nate called me during my lunch break this past Friday.  He wanted to know if that bike would be OK to ride off road, as he has some friends who ride mountain bikes.  I told him it probably wouldn’t be a good idea as that bike needs to be his main form of transportation on campus.  It was nice to talk to him, nice to hear he is doing well.  He has friends on campus, something that was part of his criteria for choosing the U of I, and he said he doesn’t plan on coming home any time soon.  I smiled as he asked me when I was coming to visit, wants to know when I (and my brother, Paul, and his family) can come watch a football game with him.

The Sunday morning that Nate and I moved him, I followed him in my car as he drove the car his sister is loaning him.  She doesn’t need her car, as it was stored at my place while she works in Turkey during the school year, so she kindly is allowing him to use it.  We arrived early, shopped for groceries at Walmart, then I followed him to his dorm suite.  At Walmart, he tried to talk me into buying beer for him.  I declined, told him that it’s not going to be difficult getting beer in a college town.  I don’t want to be the one to buy it for him.

His mother might be moving to a smaller, one bedroom apartment soon.  When he does come home, he might be living with me, another big step…..