Hesitation

Tags

divorce, life, personal, relationships

I tried not to hesitate, but that’s the point.

Last Friday, I ventured a few hours south to Brown County State Park, Indiana.  My goal for the past few summers has been to soothe my soul with sweet single track trails, a goal I haven’t really been able to attain yet.. but I am getting there.  Life keeps getting in the way, not always a bad thing.  So I decided that I was going to make a solo trek, a semi spontaneous trip with little planning except to load my bike on the back of my car, with a change of clothes and nutrition for the ride.

It feels a bit unnatural to be doing things on my own right now, even though that has been the case for some time now.  Now I have that separated, living in divorce limbo cloud hanging constantly over me, so that gives me that disjointed feel.  It doesn’t help when people look at me like a broken toy when they find out that status.  I hate it.  I hate the waiting, the real desire to move on with my life.  That even includes wanting a companion, something that really isn’t right for me to do until I am a divorced, recovered from said divorce, man.

All of the above necessitates keeping active, not sitting around and letting depression take over.  Thus the bike trip.  As much as I like to ride Brown County, I almost had to force myself out the door.

The previous Wednesday pretty much forced me out the door.  In one afternoon, I found out that my company may not be able to pay me at the end of the month, I need a root canal, I owe an additional $6813 federal tax from 2016, and my homeowners association is requiring me to buy a $855 window for my condo.  All of that hit in about a two hour time period.  I looked at what I have socked away from the sale of the house, carefully planned in preparation of the coming divorce storm, and realized that there likely will be nothing left of that money come the end of August.

I will make it, I know.  I keep telling myself that God will provide.  The storm may be heavy for a while, but I won’t sink.

Geez… what a depressing blog!  The ride was great.  Just what the doctor ordered, even though it kicked my butt.  The time alone was therapeutic.  The quiet and change of scenery, heck the scenery alone was calming.  At one point in the ride, a mountain bike skills instructor told her three students to watch me as I cleared a large log obstacle on the trail, clapping for me as I passed by them, beaming with pride.

July 13th is a status hearing.  Ummmm… I wonder how much the lawyer is going to charge for that…… lol

April Fool?

Tags

divorce, life, personal, relationships

The thought just struck me, a miniature epiphany brought on when I realized that today is usually one of my favorite days of the year.  It’s April Fool’s day, after all, and coincidentally my first full day of “freedom”.  From now on, the meaning of April 1 will no longer be associated with a prank, unless this whole thing happening in my life really is some cruel and massive joke.  Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and discover that it really has been that.

One problem — I will wake up tomorrow in my own bed, but that bed is not in my house.  It’s in someone else’s house, a house that will be mine in a few weeks, nonetheless it’s not the room I have known for some 23 years.  What a strange, almost other worldly feeling this is.

Yesterday, after 23 years, I said good bye to my cozy little two story house.  The past few days, weeks really, have been a whirlwind of seemingly constant work getting the house ready for someone else to live in, fretting over their requests to have this or that fixed/remedied/improved.  Wednesday night, while I was beginning the last stages of packing my things for the move, I received a text from my lawyer, relaying a request from the buyers to verify that the breaker box had been relabeled and a dedicated circuit had been added for the microwave range.  I wasn’t happy, not quite steaming mad, but upset enough that I could taste the sour mood the text had helped create.  I chewed on it, almost decided to tell the buyers to suck pond water, then realized that it really was an easy thing to dispute.  I sent the list for the breaker box that had been created when an electrician inspected the box, pointing out that breaker two was dedicated to the microwave range and stove.  Done.  Finished.  Resolved.

I rented a UHaul truck Thursday evening, greeted my friends Jeremy and Steve as they arrived to help with the move, started in on getting the furniture out of the house.  My dad and youngest brother arrived after a while, dug in and helped.  Never have I been so encouraged to have good friends, thankful more than I could express for their kindness.  It wasn’t just the work they offered, it was their support and understanding, empathy as we worked.  Over the years, I have helped countless people move, never once thinking of what that service meant to those receiving it.  Now I know.  Had they not been there, not only would the huge task been next to impossible to finish, I think the weight of the day may have been enormous to bear.  Instead, while I carried a lot of physical weight that night, the burden was a whole lot lighter.

Miriam left the house shortly after my friends arrived and before my dad arrived.  I am pretty sure that she didn’t want to face him.  If there was any doubt, she called me later on in the evening and asked me to tell her when everyone was gone, then texted me an hour later to confirm.  Sad.  I wished she would have wanted to try to reconcile.  I realize that it was an emotional time any way, but it may have been a good time to try.  Instead, she stayed away, giving up four hours that she should have been using to pack and clean, something she also was woefully behind on.  I stayed up until one in the morning, as much I could take, helped Miriam and her sister as they packed her stuff.  Cleaned as rooms were vacated.

I slept on an air mattress in the near empty house Thursday night.  Miriam worked until four in the morning, then went and slept at her sister’s house.   I didn’t see Nate.  He went to the Bulls game with friends, went straight to his aunt’s house.  I haven’t seen him since Wednesday night, have only talked to him for a few seconds on the phone since then.  That too is sad.  He called while the soon to be owners of our house were doing their final walk through of our house at 2 PM Friday, asked if he could come over and say goodbye to the house.. but Miriam had to tell him that it was too late.

We worked feverishly Friday morning getting everything out of the house, cleaning, throwing out the garbage.  I had put our old couch, overstuffed chair, and ottoman out at the curb for the garbage men to pick up next week.  Of course, when I was out to get garbage pickup stickers to put on the furniture for pickup, as well as the ten bags of garbage also out at the curb, a city code officer stopped by and left a warning ticket about the stuff being out at the curb.  If the garbage and furniture didn’t have stickers and wasn’t picked up by Monday, a $75 ticket would be issued!  I called the city, explained that we were moving and that stickers had been purchased ($75 worth, ironically).  They were kind, told me that everything was OK.

We were finishing the packing as the buyers pulled up for their walk through inspection.  Their realtor asked us if we were finished.  I said that we had everything out and the house was ready.  As Miriam drove off and her sister and I finished putting the last few things in her car, the buyers walked into the house with their realtor.

I paused in the driveway, stood next to my car, willed myself to take one last look at my house.  MY house.  MY FREAKING HOUSE.  I turned looked at my house, unprepared for the emotion that slammed me in the face.

This was no longer my house.  Someone else would be making new memories there.  I hoped there were still some left.  This was the place where my children were born and raised.  Heck, it was where they were made.  A lot of me was in that little structure.  With all the change, it felt like I was leaving a lot of me there.  I stood there, unable to move, no longer able to fight the tears that began streaming down in my face, sobbing as my sister in law came over and held me in a tight hug, told me that it would be all right, that I would always be welcome in her home and that she still loved me like a brother.

For weeks, I let the tasks keep me from realizing the full impact of what was about to happen.  In one quick instance, with one quick glance at the house that represented so much of what my life had been, my life changed.

Now I live somewhere else.  With someone that I knew very well some 26 years ago.  She already has proved that our friendship has been remembered, a great comfort to me these past 24 hours.  We shared coffee and breakfast this morning, talked a lot, went about the tasks of the day, then enjoyed a quiet time together out on the deck of what will be my condo soon.  It’s peaceful, serene, with woods behind, birds and animals surrounding.  At one point while we were out there, a large hawk flew over us and perched on the railing of the deck of the condo next door.  I am relaxed, my old friend and the friends I have spent time with the past few nights a true gift from God.  I feel blessed.  I feel like God is telling me that he is OK with me, that I can move on.

And I have moved.  Happy April Fool’s day, a day that no longer will be associated with fools any more, at least to me.  I am free.

The Quest Continues

Tags

divorce, lessons learned, life, personal, relationships

This blog is going to have a little side story in it that will cause you to scratch your head in doubt.  It will, if you are anything like me.  I am scratching my head also, but am seriously thinking about doing it for the practical benefit(s).  Soooooo… hold that thought.

The quest for an affordable paradise continues.  Unless something causes the house sale to crash and burn, I have until March 31 to find a place to live.  Now, don’t let that thought cause your stomach to knot, because I am not losing sleep over that prospect.  God gave me a brain, enough experience in life, to figure things out and to realize that there is a solution to this one.  Even if it means that I have to impose on a friend to sleep on their couch or commute from my brother’s house on the north shore of Chicago, an hour commute on a perfect traffic day, it will be OK.

My brother lives in a neighborhood that once was the housing and stables for Fort Sheridan in the Highwood/Highland Park area.  If I lived with him for a while, I wouldn’t be slumming it, as well as being able to enjoy the short walk to Lake Michigan and all of the bike paths in the area.

The house buyers presented their requests for repairs and credits for my house earlier this week and my lawyer has responded.  We have not received a response to our proposed changes to their requests, but I don’t think that there will be huge issues (did I just jinx myself?).  This past week, I started looking for contractors to get prices to make the necessary adjustments to my house.  That part is painful to this penny pincher, the credits and repairs likely going to be in the $3000-4000 range.  Yeah.  Ouch.  Most of that money is a credit for window replacement, the rest for mold remediation (that is expensive) and an electrician to update the fuse box.  I am debating how I am going to handle replacing some of the framing and drywall in the garage, possibly having some friends who rehab for Habitat for Humanity assist me with that one.  I only have so much cash right now.

Which reminds me — my wife dropped a little bomb on me last week.  She bought a car, from her sister, for our daughter about a year ago.  The price was $2500 for a nice little Nissan Versa.  I agreed to buying the car if my wife would pay for it.  I pay all of our bills from my pay and my wife pays only her car payment, as well as a doctor bill now and then.  I just didn’t have the spare change to pay for a car.  Guess what?  You probably already have guessed.  She hasn’t paid a penny to her sister.  My wife’s net pay is around $2500 a month.  A small amount of discipline would have allowed her to pay her sister for that car by now.  Sooooooo, my wife announced to me that she wants me to pay her sister for the car from the money we get from the sale of our house.  It’s going to look funny to my sister if we buy a car for our son and we haven’t paid her for our daughter’s car, she said.

It looks funny to me, too was my response.  The verdict is out on this one.  The I-don’t-have-to-be-a-nice-guy-any-more side of me wants to tell her to have fun dealing with her sister on this one.  The common sense side of me says that maintaining a cooperative atmosphere might be more important that a little bit of money.

I continue to try to buy a condo at the condos and villas of Emerald Green.  Early on in my search, I focused on Emerald Green because it’s affordable, nice, quiet, scenic, and extremely well maintained by a very active association.  It’s also only a mile away from where I have lived for the last 23 years, a place I dearly love.  I have failed on two attempts to buy a condo there.  Friday, I made an offer on another condo, using another real estate agent who is a friend and is motivated to be a hero for me.  He’s also extremely aggressive, something the guy who I was working with is not (but that guy was a great listing agent).  This one is looking good.  There is another offer besides mine, a cash offer, but my offer is the highest bid, as well as my agent really working on the seller’s agent.  This condo has a direct view of the river, something I am interested in simply because of the therapeutic value, something the months to come will require.

Here’s the story that is going to seem cockeyed to some.  Yesterday, I took a look at another condo in Emerald Green, one that isn’t yet for sale but will be soon.  The owner is the woman I dated seriously before my wife.  I bumped into her (not literally) at a stoplight in town a year or two ago, exchanged phone numbers, talked to her a little bit.  I called her out of the blue when it became clear that I would be looking at a place in Emerald Green, found out that she wants to buy a house, so I asked her if she would show me her place when it was ready.  Her place is in great shape, move in ready.  She owns it.  We could make the transaction without real estate agents.  When I shot her a price, her eyes lit up.  It was higher than she expected, the price I want to pay.

Here’s the kicker — I told her that I would have no problems with her taking her time to move out.  I would move into the spare bedroom in the mean time.  Funny thing is that I trust her.  She trusts me.  Of all the girls I dated before my wife, she was the most laid back and down to earth.. and it’s obvious to me that she hasn’t changed.  So, the idea that she could stick around until she is ready to move was not a bad thought to her.  It helps us both, gives me somewhere to go at the end of the month, gives her motivation to get moving on finding her house.  She would get things like a lawn mower, leaf blower, garden tools, fertilizer spreader, etc.. from me.  By the way, she is looking for a house because her 22 year old son wants to move in with her.

That’s my back up plan should I not win the bid on the condo that I am currently trying to get.  I am real close to having this little piece of the puzzle solved.

The quest for paradise continues.

Moving On

Tags

cats, dogs, lessons learned, life, neighbors, relationships

Patience and perseverance combined with sweat.  Life often requires all three, even when it seems like there are those who have everything handed to them.  Those more often than not learn that lesson the hard way.  Whether it be a task, a relationship, a car, or your body, in order to make it through it’s going to take the willingness to push through what seems too difficult, unbearably hard.  More often than not, you are going to make it.

After working my tail off since this first week of November on my house, it finally was ready to list for sale.  This past Wednesday evening, the listing went live (click the link to see the details).  There was a showing Thursday afternoon, Friday morning, and yesterday morning (Saturday).

Yesterday’s showing started at 10 AM.  It was a gorgeous day, perfect for a singletrack ride, so I went out early, planning to get home a little after 11.  When I pulled around the corner at 11:15, there were still cars parked in front of the cars, so I drove around the block, parked in front of my neighbor’s house and joined him in his man cave garage to listen to the young couple touring the outside of my house with a realtor.

Man :  The porch roof must be hollow? 

Realtor:  I assume so.  It says here that the roof was new in 2016.  Driveway was new in 2015.

Woman:  Yeah, it looks really good.

I smiled as I listened.  The young couple had met the realtor at my house, arrived in separate cars (relatively new compact Chevrolets).  They were there specifically to look at my house.  They stayed until almost noon.  This early thirties couple was seriously looking at my house.

Miriam and I were in our early thirties when we bought the house.  Childless at the time.. just like this young couple.  When the report came back from our realtor, I found out that the couple was preapproved for an FHA mortgage, so our house would be their first house.  They are currently renting a house, were just informed by their landlord that the house they are renting is under foreclosure.  Our house is in a quiet neighborhood, bustling with active and friendly families, in one of the most desirable school districts in the west suburbs of Chicago.  As it was for us, our house will be perfect for the young couple.

Our realtor sent an email to me around 2:30 PM.. with congratulations and a formal offer included as an email attachment.  The couple had extended an offer, close to our asking price, with a request for closing cost credit and a home warranty.  Miriam and I sat down to discuss the offer, go over our thoughts together, one of the things we actually do well as a couple.  She didn’t like that the closing cost credit was potentially $5000 and that the offer was $5000 less than our asking price.  I simply wanted to know the details of the home warranty.

I put my phone on speaker when our realtor called, so Miriam could participate in the call.  He answered our questions, explained that the home warranty was $500 and for a year, basically insurance that would insure that things like the water heater or furnace or windows would be replaced by the policy if they needed to be replaced.  He suggested a counter offer, accepting the closing cost credit but only if the asking price was accepted, and requesting an additional $1000 of earnest money.

They accepted.  The closing is March 31.

Our discussion moved to the next step — when would we start the divorce?  Logically, it should start after March 31, when we each would have money from the sale of the house to retain a lawyer.

Miriam left to take care of some business shortly after the phone call with the realtor.  Nate was playing golf.  I stood in the freshly painted living room of my house, the afternoon sun casting a glow on the harvest gold walls of the living and dining room.  These people were going to get a nice house, one that I know I have worked hard to maintain over the years (not just the past few months).  I stood there for a while, memories washing over me as I thought of everything that had happened in that room alone.  We made at least one of our children in front of a blazing fire in the fireplace.  Our children crawled on the carpet at my feet.  I laughed as I remembered interviewing my little red head, melted chocolate chips smeared across her face, as I tested our new video camera, then a few years later as she lovingly cuddled her first kitten in that same chair.  Nate building blanket forts using the cushions of the couch and love seat.  Family dinners, the dining room and living room and kitchen full of warmth.  Her sisters gathered around the dining room table, singing songs in Portugeuse as they reminisced their childhood.  My brothers in law and I sat around that same table, teaching our missionary father in law to play cards, much to the shock of our pious spouses.  There were those times chasing our first dog child around that table, trying to get him in house cage so we could leave the house, or the time when I came home as that same dog child sprang up on that table and took a defiant dump in the middle of the table (he was a terrier, so any terrier owner probably has similar memories).  I pictured that same terrier patiently being dressed up by our toddler daughter, complete with a bonnet, placed in a doll stroller, and being pushed like a baby around the house.

Almost 23 years of memories are in that house.

I hope those memories stay in that house, greet the new owners, live on as they create new memories of their own.

March 31 will be here soon.  My life is changing.  It’s getting real.

 

 

A Thanksgiving Turkey

Tags

life, personal, relationships

Before I scrub up and begin preparing my much requested cheese potatoes, I thought I would drop a few lines in here.  Shortly, my family will begin stirring and Thanksgiving day will start.  This one is going to a little different for me, one that will require a bit of acting on my part.

If you didn’t pick up on this one a few blogs ago, where I hinted around to you, this is going to be some news for you.  I am not writing about it, have refrained from making this announcement simply because I have tried to dial down on the real personal stuff in this blog, especially knowing that my wife monitors this blog.  A little over a year ago, I discovered the notes that she was writing from my blog, for what reason I don’t know.  It was obvious from the notes that either she planned to use them against me in counseling or perhaps if she could use them as leverage in a divorce.

My friends, that is what is happening.  I will be celebrating Thanksgiving today with my wife’s family, knowing that she asked me for a divorce on November 3rd, minutes after the final out of the World Series.  While Cub fans were celebrating all around my neighborhood, I was contemplating the announcement that she was granting me the divorce that I had asked for last year.

It wasn’t a surprise, really.  She has grown increasingly distant, avoiding contact with me.  In the last 16 months, there was no interest in showing me that she really wants to be my wife, something that I needed to see.  Really I needed to see that far before then, but since she asked me to give it at least one more try, I had hoped that she would give an effort.

I asked her the next morning, via text, if she meant what she had said the night before.  She confirmed that yes, she did mean it.  For almost a week, she avoided me so much that I saw her maybe one minute during a six day period that followed her announcement.  Once we got together, the atmosphere was calm and friendly, the wall of resentment that had been there before at least temporarily gone.  We discussed the timing of the divorce, when we would tell our children, how we would go about getting the divorce (use an online method called Wevorce), who would get the house (me.. although that has changed).  Part of the agreement we reached was that I would go to her family’s Thanksgiving celebration, she would go to my family’s Christmas.  We would tell our children, together, after Christmas.

After she called my parents and burned several bridges with them, she can’t go to my family Christmas.  Now we have to tell our children as soon as our daughter gets home from college for Christmas.

I have kept my mind and body busy by going about the tasks needed to get ready for the divorce.  My wife changed her mind about the house, actually requested that she get the house while I continue to make the mortgage payments (ummmm…. no), so the plan changed to something more fair for us.  We will sell the house and split the equity.  So I found a realtor, have started doing the little things around the house to get it ready to sell.  Our realtor recommended a handyman who works cheap, $20/hour, and he came by yesterday to help with stuff that I just don’t do quickly.. or have failed to do properly.

Such as these doors

I bought these nice solid oak bi-fold doors a year ago, stained them, and did a real bad job hanging them.  They worked famously until the bottom brackets ripped out of the wall.  The handyman fixed that plus added a nice oak threshold.

He patched a crack in the wall plus a few drywall tape cracks.  I could do those, but the result would not have been as pretty as the job the hired man performed.

I have shored up common debt, worked out a pre and post divorce budget, fixed a lot of stuff around the house, even moved a treadmill downstairs from the master bedroom and sold it on Craigslist.  That has kept me busy enough to keep my emotions numb, for the most part.

The most difficult place for me to be, difficult before the divorce announcement, worse since, is church.  That is where we met and being there by myself has been lonely for some time.  Last Sunday, I found myself shedding my first tears of grief at church.  I didn’t break down in front of a lot of people, just one friend as I told him that serving at Christmas might be tough for me, and I regained composure quickly.  I do fear what Christmas has in store.  My kids will know, may not want me around, and I may be alone for the first time ever at this time of year.

Until then, I will savor this last Thanksgiving to celebrate as a devoted husband and father.  It is going to be my last in that capacity.

The Elixer of the Pedals

Tags

bike, life, middle age, personal, relationships

Blue skies, 60 degrees, and time to play.  My kind of day.  The trees here in Chicagoland are turning color quickly now and dropping their leaves.  Days are nice, for the most part, and nights are cool in a leave the windows open pull the covers up sort of way.

Yesterday, my boss told me to celebrate the Cubs big win by taking the afternoon off.  Yesterday’s weather was just like today’s weather, so I finished up my work, cut out at 2:45, loaded my mountain bike up on my car and headed for my favorite trails.  I got there with time to ride at least 90 minutes, spend some time reveling out in the parking lot with the regulars who also are relishing this possibly last blast of shirtsleeve riding weather, especially since the clocks change tonight, and headed home to enjoy a burger with my son.  The trails were a bit greasy last night what with heavy rains on Wednesday and Thursday, coupled with fallen leaves, but they were still good to ride.  My fitness has not fallen off yet, so the riding was fast.  With cool weather, I didn’t even feel a twinge of fatigue.

This morning, I headed out for a leisurely breakfast, took an hour or so to write before heading back to the trails.  It was around 54 degrees when I rolled out, but soon enough it was in the 60 degree range.  I was glad to have thought to bring my Under Armor mock tee, a perfect first layer, knocking just enough chill off so that I only needed a tee shirt over it.  Shorts were good enough for this weather.  After the first hour, the morning damp had left the trails and they were absolutely perfect.  As soon as the warm up loop was done, I found myself bombing the trails at full speed.  Two hours later, I pulled up to the back of my car, thrilled and satisfied.

One of the guys that I had passed on the trails approached me while I was opening up my car.  He introduced himself, told me he had been to the trails a few times but was still finding his bearings.  After listening to his description of where he had been on the trails, I told him about a few of the trails he had missed.

“You feel like riding a bit more?”, he asked.

Honestly, I felt like I could ride a few more hours, so I agreed.  I jumped back on my bike, introduced my new and thankful friend to some of the trails he had missed.  He is the same age as I am (old), but it was funny as well as a boost to my ego to see how much effort he had to put out to keep up with me.  Several times, we had to stop for him to catch his breath, and the guy talked my skills up.  Frankly, the day was so good that I was shredding the trails and everything seemed to be coming together.  I was having a freaking huge amount of fun!

Mike gave me his phone number, asked for mine, and wants to ride with me as much as he can.  Looks like I have a new riding friend.

Honestly, I had a lot of thinking to do from something that happened late Wednesday.  The next few months of my life will likely be a tough ride.  The rides yesterday and today, the times alone on the trail, were an elixir, a time to think and even pray while I rode, a calming that really helped me to find some clarity.  The bike has been a gift from God to me in my life, the way He speaks to me the best, and I needed what those rides brought to me.

Another nice day tomorrow — can you say RIDE AGAIN?  I can.  After all, I also got the lawn mowed and the leaves cleaned up.  I’m golden.  🙂

 

Woods With Friends

Tags

fun, life, middle age, mountain biking, relationships, sports

There is nothing better than enjoying God’s magnificent creation with friends.  Even better is rolling through God’s green (and a bit yellow with mixed reds/oranges) wonder.. fast.  This past weekend I joined my friends Mike, Mike, and Jon for a jaunt through the twisting, undulating (cool word, eh?) dirt mountain bike trails of Brown County State Park, Nashville, Indiana.  Brown County boasts some of the best singletrack dirt trails in the Midwest, a designation that my friends and I heartily endorse.

Mike L, Steve the Big Orange Blob, and Mike B

This was my fifth trip to Brown County with Jon — the first trip there was one of my first real mountain bike excursions.  That first year was eye opening, my awe evident to Jon and our friend, Jim, who both love introducing the sport to friends.  Brown County had been an annual trip each Fall for my two friends, a tradition that Jon and I have continued.  Jon and I coaxed my friend Mike into going with us two years ago, easily hooking him to the rush of the trails.  Last year we introduced Frank to Brown County.. he was almost in tears as he had to announce earlier this week that his boss had asked him to forego the trip in lieu of a work trip.

Jon brought along his friend, Mike B, for this trip, an enthusiastic intermediate level rider who immediately expressed his joy as we entered the woods to begin our two days of riding on Thursday morning, starting at the “bottom” of the park from the north entrance parking lot of Brown County State Park.  That portion of the trail, the Pine Loop, begins by winding up a beautifully wooded ravine then through a sweet smelling pine forest, emerging to cross a small wood bridge into a fast flow trail.  Pine Loop is a smooth beginner trail with enough twists, turns, climbs, roots, and rocks to give a preview of what is to come.  We had already taken a 7 mile warm up loop while Mike B was on a work conference call from his car in the parking lot, so the three of us were able to give him a nice fast intro to the trail.  Of course, Mike B had a very interesting crash later on while riding the Walnut trail, something he recorded from his GoPro camera mounted below his handlebar.  The link is below.  Somehow, he came out of that scary crash as enthusiastically as he had approached our ride all day, with a laugh and a smile.  We all were really glad that Mike B joined us this year!  His crash became the talk of the rest of our trip.

Our first day found us grinding the climbs before flying (literally.. both tires were off the ground a ton during the descents on that trail) the Green Valley trail, grunting the climbs over the roots and rocks of the Hesitation Point trail.. to be treated to a spectacular view at the top, then the rush of the advanced skill level Walnut trail.  We reached the top of the park after another screaming rush riding the flowy Limekiln trail to the campgrounds.  At the campground, we met up with three other friends who rode back down through Limekiln and Walnut with us to Hesitation Point.  Those three rode back up to the campground to get cleaned up for dinner while we rode back down the Hesitation Point trail to Aynes and back to the north gate parking lot.

Mike L and I decided to ride our bikes from the trail head to the hotel where Mike B and Jon met us.  All said, our first day was nearly 40 miles of dirt trail riding.

Lovely.

All retreated to our rooms, exhausted but extremely satisfied, the showers bringing us back to life.  We met the three from the campground at the Big Woods brewery in Nashville, closed out the restaurant, sharing stories from our trail rides that day as well as ride stories of the past.

The next morning I woke amazingly refreshed, a bit sore from the previous day’s ride, but ready for another few hours of riding.  After all, riding was our reason for our trip.  None of us are partiers.  We wanted to ride as much as possible.  After a breakfast of sausage and fake scrambled eggs in the hotel lobby, we left Jon’s van at the hotel, rode into the park for more riding.  Our ride started from the Pine Loop trail again, maybe even more sweet smelling in the morning dew.  From there the boys coaxed me to ride the North Tower Loop trail, a ride that starts with two miles of grinding, albeit low grade, twisty climbing.  My legs were sore.  I didn’t want to start with climbing.  But I was glad to be talked into riding and leading out on that trail.  I was the fastest descender in the group, the climbs warming me up nicely so that when we reached the down and tight turning section of the North Tower Loop trail, I left my friends in the dust, waiting for them with a huge grin at the end of that trail.  We ventured back to the Green Valley trail for more roller coaster riding, then climbed to Hesitation Point.

From there, we decided to take the park road to the Bobcat Bowl trailhead, a double black diamond expert trail, half of the trail newly finished a week before our visit.  Bobcat Bowl is very narrow, following ridges over a whole lot of rocks and roots, with challenging switchbacks that threaten to throw your bike off the trail into the ravine.  It’s also one of the most scenic trails in the park.. so wonderful.  At one point, I had to walk a small section of trail that was probably three feet wide with a sheer drop off on my left.  I am afraid of heights!  The trail starts with a challenging, rocky switchback that leads to off camber, narrow dirt trails.  It is a fun trail, but I found myself wishing I lived close enough to learn to ride Bobcat Bowl properly.  I rode the first half very well, fast enough to take a break in the middle to wait for my friends to catch up.  Once we got to the newly finished portion of Bobcat, where it begins to wind up the side of very tall ravines, I fell behind and had to walk some sections.  We were a few hours into our ride and I was beginning to show some wear.  Plus, I am heavier right now than I have ever been and it began to show in the climbs.

Here I am getting ready to negotiate a tight turn on Bobcat.

We finished the day by riding back down through the Aynes Loop.  At the end, I found my second wind, leading us back to the park, forcing a large group of slower riders to give up the trail to us, allowing us to pass.  We sprinted for the old covered bridge at the entrance to the park, then rolled back up the highway to our vehicles at the hotel.

I want to go again next week.  It was that good!

If you have some time and want to get an idea of what the Walnut trail riding was like our first day, here is Mike B’s video.  I am the orange guy at the beginning and the end.  At 4:39, you will be treated to Mike’s end over into the ravine!

She’s Back

Tags

alyssa, daughter, family, fatherhood, life, parenting, relationships

This is that time of the year where nearly every college age student tells their parent(s) —

“OK WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE!!!!”

It wasn’t quite that dramatic with our daughter, but that sentiment repeated itself many times over the course of the day yesterday in one form or another.  It was really obvious that Alyssa was ready to get to task, a task that did not include her parents.  My guess is that even the most dependent child stretches their wings of independence on college move in day, smelling the sweet odor of freedom (or whatever that leftover stench is left in the dorm).  Alyssa is no exception, her independence already an admirable trait, but I have to admit that my daughter takes on an even stronger stance when it comes to the day for Mom and Dad to GO AWAY.

Have I said how much I love my girl?  Yes.  I know.  Many times.  Dang, do I love how much her life needs to be hers, yet how much she lets belong to her mother.  It is such a delicate balance that she performs so well.  All summer, perhaps the last summer we will have our daughter living in our house, Alyssa has shared intimate moments with her mother —  watching videos while snuggled on her bed, shopping, getting coffee, giggling around the kitchen table.  My daughter expresses her desire to be independent in a stern yet loving way.. and when I say that she is MY daughter.  Yet she clings to her mother in the way that Miriam needs.. and Miriam reaaaaaaallly needs her daughter.  That is fodder for another blog, so let’s leave that one right here.  Plop.  OK?

Alyssa starts her junior year of college in about a week and a half.  As resident assistant for her dorm floor and a leadership scholar, she had to report over a week early in preparation for incoming students.  When we moved her in yesterday, she was the only one on her dorm floor to move in.. a little creepy in some ways.  I am pretty sure that she slept in the same room last night with another floor’s RA.  My fastidious daughter carefully unpacked the boxes and bags stored all summer in our garage and her bedroom, reorganized what needed to return to school with her, then placed them outside the garage door for me to pack into my car.. and her car.  Yes, this year is a first.

My daughter has her own car, a red 2007 Nissan Versa that Miriam purchased from her sister.  The car has over 173K miles on it, but my favorite mechanic did close to $3000 of repairs on the car to return it to like new status.  Miriam purchased the car for the price of the repair, a notion that I balked at, a little because of the mileage on the car and the uncertainty that comes with that.  I also was not happy with the purchase because it didn’t happen the way I had hoped.  I hoped that we would plan the purchase of a car for our daughter together, save the money and then find a vehicle that would be safe for our daughter to drive.  Once again, another blog to write so let’s leave that one right here.  Plop.  OK?

I do need to say that it feels very strange to have a daughter at college, with her own vehicle, another step up along the rungs of independence.  I like it, yet don’t like it.  It’s a double edged sword.

We left at 6 AM for the four hour trek to Upland, Indiana.  6 AM, on the dot.  Normally Miriam would drag her feet and we would leave later, but Alyssa didn’t allow that.  My car and her car was packed the night before.  All I had to do was add the two bicycles she needed to the rack on the back of my VW before we left, easily accomplished since I was out of bed, washed and ready before 5 AM.  A trip to Dunkin and the gas station to fill up Alyssa’s car, and we were zipping happily along the Chicago tollway system.

Another brag — my daughter drives AWESOME.  She needed to follow me through Chicago into Indiana since I know the way very well, but she led the west to east trek across Indiana (at my insistence) in a very expeditious manner.  Alyssa is definitely my daughter.  We arrived at Taylor University also in a very expeditious manner.

Hold on for a second.. I need to crank it like a chainsaw (thank you, Family Force Five).  Fresh flannel shirt, country bumpkin.

Let me say inform you of this — I am a gimp right now.  That sucks, especially since that means that I can’t ride a bicycle right now.  Last Thursday night, I popped a calf muscle in a softball tournament.  As my father reminded me, maybe it’s time to hang up the softball glove.  However, I am milking the injury, my right calf wrapped in a compression bandage, a slight limp as I pitifully march along.  Alyssa’s dorm room is on the third floor, without an elevator.

No, I did not beg out of carrying her stuff up the stairs.  The pity factor did help, making both Miriam and Alyssa check up on me periodically to make sure that I was OK.  Truthfully, it was more difficult.  I am moving slow, more carefully, but I was able to do my fair share of the transfer from cars to dorm room.  At one point, though, it became my job to perform a very essential task.

Negotiate.

Before anything could be moved into the dorm room, the dorm room had to be arranged properly.  Taylor University provides stackable and moveable furniture, which means that the occupant of each dorm room can decide on how the beds, dressers, desks, and book shelves can be arranged.  Alyssa wanted to stack the beds on top of the desks, dressers, and bookshelves, much to the consternation of mother superior.  Many times I had to be the intercessor, reminding Miriam that this was her daughter’s domain.  As the father (I know the roles are interchangeable), my job is to be the calm one, the one with a calm maner that reminds the mother that this is the daughter’s decision, a decision that she can change as she wants.

“It’s her room.  Let her do what she wants.  She can change it if it doesn’t work.”

I have to admit that there was a bit of smug satisfaction, a superiority of sorts, as I made that pronouncement.

My smug manner was challenged as I undertook the assembly of the futon that Alyssa and her roomie had purchased together.  That sucker was too big for the dorm room.

(heh heh heh) “She will just have to deal with it.”  I reminded Miriam.

Alyssa was in a bit of a hurry.  A 5:15 there was a staff meeting with the college president, more than likely an introductory to the college leadership staff, a cookout at his on campus house yet very important.  By 3 PM, I had just finished the futon assembly and only her clothes were moved into the closet.  All else was waiting outside the dorm suite to be moved in.  But we still had a supply run to make to the local Walmart.  Alyssa was nervous as she drove us to the store, plotting how we would accomplish the shopping tasks together.  Alyssa and I went together to find our portion of the list, Miriam the other.  We bought the majority of the items (my debit card is still screaming), filled the gas tank of Alyssa’s Nissan, and made it back to campus with 15 minutes to spare.  We said a quick good bye in the dorm parking lot.

And.  That.  Was. It.

Oddly enough, Miriam and I had a very relaxed dinner together at Cracker Barrel (or Crackle Barrel if you so prefer), then a quiet trip back to Chicagoland.

Did I mention that the boy child started his senior year of high school yesterday……

(in the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey)

 

 

 

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream

Tags

anger, faith, God, life, marriage, marriage issues, relationships

I need to scream.  I am emotionally spent and I have no outlet.  I need to be comforted and hugged, but the one I thought would be there for me when I need her touch took that away from me a long time ago.. and she is the source of my frustration.

Where do you go when you need to scream?  What do you do?

I want to know.

Do you moan to God like David, at times feeling like God has rejected you?  I can relate.  I pray for relief, for change, and it seems like I am praying for naught.  My prayers feel empty.  I have yet to dance naked before God and everyone, like David did in his celebration.

Maybe that’s the answer?

Naaaaaa.

Do you spill your anger out on the people around you, the poison seeping from your pores, dripping from your tongue?  My mood threatens to turn black when the screams are trapped inside me, so much that I wish I could run from myself.  Instead, I run to a mirror, witness the distressed man that stares back at me, darkness lurking in his eyes, tears pooling.  Often enough, I am able to leave him there.

A bicycle provides escape for a time, each frustration shaved away as the pedals turn beneath me.  There was a time when the bicycle was the only outlet that I needed.  There are times when that is still the case, but more and more the screams stay with me.

I am not a violent man.  I can be an angry man, a man I have learned to fight simply because I know that I don’t handle the angry man very well.  Never am I tempted to strike out in an attempt to release the screams.  I am afraid of what might happen if I did.  I want to be angry with my words, but I don’t like to do that, so I hide my words away more often than not.  So I need to scream.  I want to scream.

I can’t.

I want to scream so loud that it all goes away.  The pain.  The want.  The sacrifice.  The woman who complains and takes, who gives so little back.

In a moment, I will retreat to an empty bed.  I will wake up to a still empty bed.

And I will live my day craving the opportunity to scream.

Some day it will happen.

 

Life with Lemons

Tags

God, life, relationships

I really need to learn how to make lemonade.  Little Stevie has been turning tiny fruit into enormous entities.

Today showed me that.

Let me start with the lemon that finished me off.  It was a itty bitty Lemonhead, to be honest, one that I think I could have avoided.  Can I admit that there are times when skipping church can be OK?  I should have skipped this morning’s service.  I should have just avoided.  I knew what was on the service agenda.  My church is ambitious, intent on growing and reaching as many people for God as possible.  That really excites me, especially since I know from watching the church grow over close to 30 years that it is blessed.  In order to grow, that means expanding.  Expanding requires money.  This morning was going to be a commitment service, with members being asked to commit to giving more over the next two years.  That requires faith beyond what I have.  Either that or God is telling me that I am not being asked to commit to giving more.

I hate that.  Damn it, God, I really do hate that!  After searching, working out the financial details, praying about it, I had to decide that going beyond what I have in order to give to a church building project is not wise.  God wants me to be a good steward.  God is not asking me to step out in faith and make money appear out of nowhere.  So I signed the commitment card any way, said that I am committing to give $25 a month more, walked up front and dropped it in the basket.

Remember the story in the Bible about Ananias and Sapphira, the couple who sold a piece of land to give the money to their church, lied about the price when they gave the money, and dropped dead as a result?  It’s in Acts 5 if you want to check it out.

I returned to my seat, stood with everyone while we sang.  All of a sudden, I felt very ill, nauseated and so dizzy that I felt like I was going to collapse.  I sat down.  That didn’t help.  Trying to be brave, I sat up straight, all the while feeling like any moment I was going to pass out.  The anxiety was building.  I didn’t know what was happening, but I was pretty sure that a good deal of how I felt at the moment had to do with that anxiety.

There are a lot of lemons in my life.  Anyone who reads this blog knows that.  I let those lemons be a lot larger than they need to be.  This morning, they about crushed me.

It didn’t help that yesterday I rode close to three hours, only drank about a quarter of the one water bottle that I brought with me.  More than likely, I was still a little dehydrated this morning.  Also, when I had that accident at the beginning of January, my blood pressure was around 170 over 102.  That scared the people who looked me over at the hospital after the accident.  They discharged me with a warning to go have my blood pressure checked by my doctor.  I chalked that up to the shock I was experiencing due to the accident, so I didn’t do anything about it.

So I forced myself to get up out of my chair in the church auditorium at the end of the service.  I was afraid.  I was dizzy, my gut churning, but walking helped a little.  I got in my car and it all came back.. worse.

Long story short, I managed to drive myself to a convenient care.  They took one look at me as I walked in and immediately they grabbed a wheelchair, took me back to exam.  After determining that it wasn’t my heart, they told me that there was definitely something doing on, but they needed me to go to the ER.  A few minutes later, I was in an ambulance and on my way to the hospital.

My heart rate was 165 over 102.  I was discharged a few hours later with a prescription for high blood pressure medicine.  Likely culprit is stress and dehydration, with a diet high in caffeine and sodium.

You know what sucks?  Our current health insurance situation.  At one point during my examination in the ER, an intake person came in with a portable computer system, told me that I needed to pay the $600 deductible then.  A big lemon smacked me in the gut.

I about passed out then.  At that point, it was a real good thing that Miriam had arrived.  She took over.  Turns out she has a credit card that I didn’t know about.

Good things — really all this means is that I am going to have to be on blood pressure meds for a while.  There will be a diet change required, something I was already contemplating.  Coffee will likely no longer be a morning staple.  Salt, something I usually overdo, is going to go away.

And today’s events meant Miriam and I talked about our money situation a lot more, without resistance.  That has been improving as of late, something I have been increasingly pushing and both of us becoming more aware of.. and I have really been stressing over our money.  I don’t feel as alone at the moment when it comes to that.  And my wife cooked for me when I got home, put together a menu and grocery list together, and she is doing the grocery shopping for this week.

Time for those lemons to shrink to lemonade size.