Angel Wings in a FedEx Box...

Ah! I remember it well… Or do I?...

I can remember several years ago, sitting at a desk talking to a clerk about my 201 file. To the astonishment of the person across the desk, I was able to give an account of my career, month by month. But as I've said before, that was then and now is now. I've noticed my attempts to recall my past, by going year-to-year, is now at times difficult. For some reason Kathy threw away all of her calendars. And I threw away all of my yearbooks. So all I'm left with is what is stuck in my head. Yeah, I know, and that's not very much.

Kathy has always told me that my memory is like Swiss cheese. I thought that it was rather humorous. It's not so funny now. I discovered that the human mind, when it doesn't have the correct connections, tends to make the connections it feels need to be made. A bit like re-knitting moth holes in a sweater. From a distance, it doesn't look too bad. But upon close examination, it's quite a mess.

But at times, I have is these little revelations. I have flashes. Pictures of places I have been and things I have done. In order to capture these I thought of carrying 3 x 5 cards, but they're not what I really need. I really need a green memorandum book. Like the one I carried when I was in the Army. One with a rubber band and a pencil. I've already created a master outline in the computer. Year by year, and month by month, from my birth to the present. Positioned like a sculptor's armature ready to accept clay. And so I'll try to fill out the form of my life with these bits and pieces. Like the bits and pieces of a sculptor's clay.

In addition to my little green book, I have discovered a remarkable aid to my journalizing. Something that allows me talk and have it displayed on the screen. Not being a great typist or keyboardist, this will allow me to make quick notes, add the contents of my little green book, and keep a day-to-day journal on the master outline. From time to time, some of these entries will appear on this page.

My apologies to those with an aversion to elderly people admitting getting older. But to others with more open minds, I hope this will serve as a warning and a tool. Suggestions on the why and how to keep a daily journal.

I'm No Hero

Let's see, what day is it?
Wednesday already? Doesn't seem possible.

So I guess it was four days ago, the 2010 Seattle-to-Portland.

I was ready. As ready as I had ever felt in the past. I had figured out a way to prepare by riding various loops and routes out here on the peninsula. And I had been riding them. I had figured out how to mix my bottles. And I found the dry mixes in premeasured tubes. Then I'd been able to break it down into one small traveling pack. I had a Ray-Romano optimism about the event. But that's the way I've always been. I know that if I can start it I can finish it. So when I felt a little bit tired Friday evening it really didn't concern me. I thought it was just nervous energy catching up with me and I took a nap. So when I woke up I made final adjustments on everything - or as much as possible - and went to bed.

The next morning was a different story. I discovered that I had a UTI. Early Sunday morning, the doctor would ask me, "How did that happen?" It really didn't matter much, did it? I felt like a steam plant. So I made my usual breakfast. And I started my pre-hydration. By the time I was about ready to leave things seemed quite a bit better. So without mentioning anything to Katherine, I started STP2010. If I started, I could finish.

It's strange how that when I ride on a route I've done several times before, I remember various parts of it. I don't mean the memory of the route itself. I mean, the sensations associated with riding particular sections of the route. It's more like a memory in my legs. My legs felt great. I felt more confident than I had ever felt before. And I felt stronger than I had before. The only hint of what was to come occurred at the 25 mile REI stop. It seemed like a long time was wasted waiting in line to use a Porta-Potty. Something that I didn't think I could avoid.

By the time I got to Puyallup. The situation had become a bit more critical. There were a very limited number of Porta-Potties. (Hint: When you choose a line, choose the one with the least number of women.) I had to jump out of line get on my bike and ride another mile, maybe two, up to where the underpass is by the WSU farm. No lines. At this point I felt I did have to give Kathy a call to alert her.

"The Hill" was a surprise. I'd decided to go to the middle ring and I was passing people. Was it because it had been newly paved? I glanced down and my GPS told me 8%. I'd remembered it as 6%. But I felt good - one of my best rides up "the Hill." After the light at the top I started passing people and continued to do so until just past Spanaway. This in spite of what had become an increasing discomfort sitting on the saddle. As I made the turn toward Roy it seemed to get a lot colder and I started shivering despite the effort I was making. As the saddle got sharper and the temperature got colder, I increasingly looked forward to seeing Kathy at the Fort Lewis East Gate. I don't know what I expected of her.

Originally Kathy wanted me to immediately go to Madigan but we talked and it was decided that I would keep going to Centralia and make a decision there. However, the closer I got to Centralia, the harder it became to sit on the saddle and continue to ride. I'm not like Rob. I'm no hero. I can't put pain away. So somewhere between McKenna and Tenino I sent Chris a text telling him that I would probably abandon at Centralia. But I didn't even make it that far. Kathy picked me up just before Bucoda.

We drove to Centralia for the picnic Kathy had planned. I changed. And we drove to Portland to keep our promise to Chris to drive him home. On the way to Portland we explored several options. Whether to return to Tacoma the next day or that evening. And if we should go directly to the doctor or wait until I had rested. It was decided that we should go directly to the doctor.

So my 2010STP ended at 2 a.m. Sunday morning with me lying half-asleep on a couch in the Acute Care area of Madigan Army Medical Center. And the last three days have been spent dealing with the effects of the infection, the medications, and the cross-reactivity's with the medication that I'm already taking.

On the plus side, everything seems brighter and clearer now. And the end of the peninsula seems as inviting as ever.

New Tires

Well I was closer to home this time.

I was coming up the hill towards 140th and I heard a truck behind me. Since I was really cranking hard I didn't want to move over too much. I tried looking under my arm to see where he was but I couldn't find him. But I could hear him. Then I glanced down just in time to see something bright go under my tires and hear a "poof" sound. Then it felt it like I was riding over cobbles.

When I found the spot in the tire, which wasn't hard, it looked like someone had taken a screwdriver to it. Big right angle gouged clear through to the tube. I looked back to see what I had hit but couldn't see anything bright.

Because I was so only about 3/4 mile from home, I picked up my bike and carried it to the nearest cross street. 140th. I'm down to my last innertube and CO2 cartridge, so I called Kath. I could've taken my shoes off and walked. But then I thought that if Kath came and got me, I could get home, pick up what I needed to go to Performance, and go in and buy tires and tubes, etc. However, the house painter who lives across the street came out to meet us and proceeded to explain what all was needed tomorrow for touch up. That little disruption destroyed the whole timeline. So, we will run on errands tomorrow evening immediately after Kath gets home from work and before her Stake meeting at seven.

This is the second flat in the last five days. And I've lost count of how many there has been since the first of the year. I've gone whole seasons without a flat. What's this all about? I have noticed, however, that I'm not as attentive as I had been in the past. I like putting my head down and going for it. It's fun, but it's getting expensive. But maybe too it's that I haven't had new tires for over a year. Yeah, at least a year. And the hole in the tire was just to the side of where the tread used to be. Maybe that should tell me something. No tread. Yeah, maybe it's time for new tires. And since there's a huge hole in that rear tire what else am I going to do. I guess I'm going to have to get new tires.

Kevlar tires.

Working Overtime

Word to the wise. If your wife asks you to work overtime with her, don't. Well, you know, I say that with my tongue in my cheek. If Kath needs my help, you know I'll be there. It's just that Saturday went beyond, way beyond, what I expected. And it sure went beyond what she had planned.
When we talked about it she said, "We'll get there early, work a couple hours, and we'll be done by noon." We got there at seven and left about 4:30 in afternoon.
What she had in mind was the resorting of 420 feet of contract files that were arranged by contract number. They needed to be resorted by closeout date. The area that she had chosen to sort these contracts in, was probably 10 x 10. It got expanded almost immediately to about double that. Finally, I convinced her that we needed to use the hallways outside and around the file room. We needed to designate specific areas for specific years, and arrange the contracts within those years by months. Then we could go back and sort by date. After we had them sorted completely, we could then put them back on the shelves by closeout date.
When we were about halfway through, it was very apparent that there was no way this could be done over several days. It had to be done, as she planned, on a weekend day. It had to be done when no one else was around. When the department was empty of people acting as distractions. But that meant I was in it for the long-haul. And I emphasize the word "haul". The positive side is, I guess, that I got a lot of weight training.

As a side note, you'll all be happy to learn that the government is saving money by not air-conditioning their buildings on weekends. I can personally vouch for that. The positive from that - I lost weight. Improving my power to weight ratio. But it was, as they say, all water.

And to Kath, let me say, "I love you. Thank you for involving me in this. We haven't worked together like that for a long time - the downside of retirement - and it felt good.."
When you look at me with that openness in your face and say, "Thank you. I couldn't have done that without you." I say, "It's us Kath. We've been doing it together for a long time. We can't do it alone. Neither one of us. It'll always be you and I together."

What Is a Mormon?