Priority Shifted With Opportunity

Tags

fatherhood, golf

Last evening was picture perfect — cool temperatures, slight breeze, sunny with green landscapes abounding as our trees and plants benefit from the bountiful rain of the past few weeks.  Work was one of those days that moved along at a pleasant, manageable clip.  As late afternoon approached I found myself looking forward to mounting my road bicycle for a nice spin around the open spaces of west suburban Chicago.  My plan was to change into my cycling clothes as soon as I got home, avoid the call of the couch lest I succumb to its siren song, put in a few hours of sweet sweat.

Nate was parked in front of the TV, feverishly working the video game controller to extinguish increasingly pesky video zombies.  A large part of his free time since school ended for the summer has been devoted to perfecting his gaming skills.  Also occupying his time, daily, is golf.  To his credit, he did not give up golf after a disappointing start to the summer season, instead determination to improve has taken over.  That is his personality, one of the reasons individual sports such as golf or tennis are more his cup of tea than a team sport like baseball.  His success is based on his performance.  My son would rather work against himself.  Good for him, I say, since that will hopefully teach him lessons to take into life as he learns to take responsibility for his own actions.  He sorely needs to learn that.

Without looking up as I walked into the room, Nate asked evenly, “Do you want to play golf tonight, Dad?”.

My plan for the evening changed immediately.  No way am I giving up that opportunity.  I think I have said this before — the golf course is where Nate and I relate to each other the best, where he treats me like his father rather than his opponent (so normal for a teen, I know). 

Last night was no exception.  Maybe it was the perfect weather.  Maybe it was just the way things went for the both of us because it was as if both Nate and I were being rewarded for our efforts of late, a blessing of good fortune bestowed on us.  I golfed better than I ever have, well enough that Nate was openly showing his appreciation.  Nate’s game suddenly came together, back to what it had been last year (which was very good) and better. 

“Kind of see what is important about this game, eh?  You have to stay with it or it doesn’t stay with you.  Your practicing is paying off.”

A good evening and a good opportunity.  Yeah, I could have spent the evening by myself on my bike, perhaps more relaxing to me.  Perhaps not.  I even got a bonus from Nate last night.  While we were unloading our golf clubs from the back of my car, Nate noticed my new bicycle rack, asked about it.  Then he told me he wants to go mountain biking with me soon.

Really?  Wow.

 

I Work On The Meaning Of Life

Tags

bicycling, fatherhood, golf, life

Easter has come and gone, bringing with it hopes of warmer temperatures along with all manner of sprouting green plants and awakening grass.  In my household that means we finally get out of the house.  Our house is not a large house and after a long, frigid winter we begin to resemble Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy

All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy

All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy

All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy

All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy

All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy

Heh heh heh

Not that I have stayed in all of the time.  This is my year to shine again on the bicycle, I have decided, and as soon as temperatures began to climb over 20 degrees I started riding my bicycle outside.  I have been riding consistently since the beginning of March and am already beginning to feel good on the bike.  Last week I got out on the dirt trails, my mountain bike a bit rusty since my blue weenie ride in January, but the trails were perfect Wednesday night.  Since I enjoyed myself so much on Wednesday, I went back again on Thursday.

I ran over a rock the size of a loaf of bread, the wrong way so that it flew straight up and broke off the rear derailleur (translation:  shifter) on my mountain bike.  Oops.  The parts won’t be in until at least this Wednesday.  I got my exercise the rest of Thursday’s ride by hiking out to the parking lot with my bike slung over my shoulder.

Miriam frowned when I told her.  She reminded me that we don’t have health insurance right now.  Oops again.

It’s also fib truthfully season.  Nate and I are playing golf again.  Anyone who plays golf knows what I mean when I say ‘fib truthfully’.  It’s an art I see practiced most on the golf course.

The thought struck me last evening as we walked a fairway together that golf is the time when Nate really treats me like his father.  We don’t argue.  Lately Nate has been arguing with me about getting a smart phone and we had an argument about it all weekend.  Did he mention it on the golf course?  Not once nor did he on the way home.  I realized that it’s always that way when we are playing golf.

Hmmmm…. is there a way we can play golf all of the time?  I might actually get somewhere with the kid.

Nate is my size now.  When we played golf last November, I was hitting the ball farther than him.  The first time Nate and I played together this year (a week ago last Sunday), Nate was hitting 270-280 yard tee shots.  He has almost always been a better golfer than me but at least I could out drive him before now.  Oh well.  I don’t have to be better, just available.

And, finally, I thought I would share this little scene from the street in front of my house this afternoon.  It’s my neighbor Doug getting his ten year project running, a restored John Deere tractor.  Sweet.  I wouldn’t have seen that happen had I been at work.

Makes me think I am back home around Springfield, not in Chicagoland.

Ice Bagged

Tags

golf, mountain biking, old guy stuff, weekends

Here I sit

Broken (old) farted

Tried too do too much

And now I am sitting on the couch trying to think of a word that rhymes with “farted”

The ideal weekend for me is to do so much, pack enough action into two days, that I find myself sitting on the couch with an ice pack on one or more sore body parts and telling myself over and over again “Oh man does this hurt so good”.  Tonight, dear friends, I have achieved old man-tra.  I am on the couch, ice bag on my left foot, wondering which muscle is going to spasm uncontrollably into a ball.  My money is on my right calf, although the left hamstring is a good bet also.

A golf ball. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today I made the social rounds of my neighborhood, jumping on my bicycle with the intention of finding Nate, instead finding four neighbors instead.  I am a talker, a characteristic both loves and hates.  The kids used to drag me out of church, hoping I wouldn’t find someone to talk to.  They understand me a bit more now, but there are times they still dread taking me out into public.  ANY HOOOOOO, I made the rounds of the neighborhood, one stop being to say hello to Sean, my neighbor across the street, a young man with two little tykes who I get a chance to talk to rarely.  He waved me over as I pedaled by.

And we yacked for a good half hour.  As we yacked, I noticed he had a nice set of golf clubs sitting in his garage.

“You play?”

“Oh yeah, but with the kids and my job I rarely get to play any more.”  He paused for a moment.  “I see you and Nate loading up the clubs in your car quite a bit.”

“Yeah, I have been playing quite a bit since Nate got interested in the game.”  And I told him about some of the good deals on golf Nate and I had discovered in our quest for golf.

“What are you doing this afternoon?  I need to play.”

Hmmmmm.  I had to think about that offer for a minute.  I played 18 holes last night, walking the course for the first time this golf season, using carts up to this point due to the healing of my surgically repaired left foot.  Mir probably wouldn’t mind (and she didn’t).  I had found a course close by that had a cheap and early twilight rate.  The thing was that I hadn’t been on my bicycle since Thursday, wanted to get an off road ride in this afternoon because there was rain forecasted for this evening.  The trails may not be rideable for a few days.

“Sure.  How about around 5:00?  I want to get a ride in this afternoon, but I should be back in time to play.”

“You walk the course?”

“Of course.”

And we were set.  Mir was cool with it, liked the idea of me spending some time with our neighbor.

Trouble was that the ride was fantastic, so fantastic that I lost track of time.  I left at one in the afternoon, looked in the clock when I pulled into my driveway.  Five.  Oops.

I walked across the street, knocked on Sean’s front door.  Angie, his wife, answered and said that Sean had left a few minutes ago.  He was really looking forward to playing golf.

Oh crepe.

“Give him a call, tell him I will be there in a few minutes.”

I hustled home, changed out of my sweaty bike clothes, whipped on my golf schtuff.  Zipped to the course to find an anxiously waiting Sean at the first tee.

Dang best time I have had playing golf in ages.  We walked 14 holes and played until dark.  Talked like two old hens.  The guy could be my younger twin.  We left with the understanding that this should be an every Sunday night gig.

Cool.

But boy Is my body wondering what I did to it.  I love the tired, satisfied feeling that activity gives to me.  Ahhhhhhh.  Thank goodness for ice packs.

Until next time.