Beware the Ides of July... the time of year when the doping controls eliminate 10% of the Tour de France riders before a pedal is pushed "in anger".
Yes, the Ides of July. Time for Andy Schleck to step up and earn the top spot on the podium - I'm tired of seeing that rat Contador win!
I'm ready for the Ides of July - when Spartacus raises his arms in victory and pulls on the yellow tunic.
Dopers be damned!
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
45 (Revolutions per Minute)
"...Bells are chiming and tears are falling
It creeps up on you without warning, 45..."
- Elvis Costello, "45"
In June 1982, I went to my first concert: Blue Oyster Cult, with Aldo Nova opening.
To my frenzied 16 year old mind, it was a Dionysian orgy of guitars, drums, lights, and fun, fun, fun.
The next day, I walked my ass to driver's training - the 6-10am course.
In February 1998, I remember my step-dad (and overall wonderful man) announce "Today is the 40th anniversary of my 21st birthday".
And we rousingly toasted his health.
In October 2002, I celebrated the end of chemotherapy and radiation treatments at home with my mom, my aunt, and my uncle, drinking beer and watching the Red Wings on TV.
That day was my life - day zero.
Not being a parent, I found myself wondering tonight if by my celebrating my birthday, my mother actually celebrated every single birthday of my 45 years.
In a way, it could be like the Tralfamadorians in Kurt Vonnegut's book "Schlachthof Fuenf" - Slaughterhouse Five - where they saw humans as centipedes - each year was a section of body... the head was the oldest version, and the tail was the youngest.
Does that happen as a parent? Do you not celebrate each year of your child's life, but rather EVERY year of your child's life?
I'm 45. I've made the "45-54" age bracket.
My life is not as exciting as it used to be, but it is even more fulfilling than ever before.
I never thought I'd see that day, yet I can't wait to see what the next day brings.
For those of us in the Western hemisphere, tomorrow brings us summer.
Finally, my old friend has come home for a visit.
45.
"...Bells are chiming and tears are falling
It creeps up on you without warning, 45..."
- Elvis Costello, "45"
In June 1982, I went to my first concert: Blue Oyster Cult, with Aldo Nova opening.
To my frenzied 16 year old mind, it was a Dionysian orgy of guitars, drums, lights, and fun, fun, fun.
The next day, I walked my ass to driver's training - the 6-10am course.
In February 1998, I remember my step-dad (and overall wonderful man) announce "Today is the 40th anniversary of my 21st birthday".
And we rousingly toasted his health.
In October 2002, I celebrated the end of chemotherapy and radiation treatments at home with my mom, my aunt, and my uncle, drinking beer and watching the Red Wings on TV.
That day was my life - day zero.
Not being a parent, I found myself wondering tonight if by my celebrating my birthday, my mother actually celebrated every single birthday of my 45 years.
In a way, it could be like the Tralfamadorians in Kurt Vonnegut's book "Schlachthof Fuenf" - Slaughterhouse Five - where they saw humans as centipedes - each year was a section of body... the head was the oldest version, and the tail was the youngest.
Does that happen as a parent? Do you not celebrate each year of your child's life, but rather EVERY year of your child's life?
I'm 45. I've made the "45-54" age bracket.
My life is not as exciting as it used to be, but it is even more fulfilling than ever before.
I never thought I'd see that day, yet I can't wait to see what the next day brings.
For those of us in the Western hemisphere, tomorrow brings us summer.
Finally, my old friend has come home for a visit.
45.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
When I'm 44...
I just read a little article in Wine Enthusiast magazine about Miranda Lambert. Whoever she is.
In the interview, they asked her the question: What would your 16-year-old self think of yourself now?
It made me think that this would be a good blog post.
Today, Sheryl and I went to a graduation party for one of her cousins' kids. It was nice. We had a lot of fun hanging out with her cousins. It was sort of like sitting at the kids table for Thanksgiving. I received some kind words from Sheryl's Aunt, and we laughed. A lot.
My 16-year-old self would not understand the nearly 45-year-old version of himself. In fact, the 30-year-old version of me wouldn't understand me.
The 16-year-old me might enjoy hanging out with me, but that's not a given. I was still trying to figure out my way through high school. Still trying to deal with the kids I went to school with. I don't think the current version of me could really tell the 16-year-old version of me anything that would stick with the 16-year-old me. No advice. No wisdom. Nothing.
That's how closed-minded I was at 16.
The 30-year-old version of me would like the current me, but wouldn't spend a lot of time with the current me because the 30-year-old me was out looking to party most of the time. I was still 4 years away from cancer. 4 years away from changing my neurotic mindset. And 7 years away from meeting my future wife.
7 years from changing my life - for the better.
My 16-year-old self would not have enjoyed today's graduation party. My 30-year-old version would have had a few shots beforehand. And my nearly 45-year-old self recognized that there are things you will be a part of that you never expected.
What is the most important piece of advice I would give my 16-year-old self?
Don't be afraid. You can do anything, and will accomplish a lot. Enjoy the ride.
The most important piece of advice I would give my 30-year-old self?
Don't try to force things. Everything comes about at the right time. Just make sure that you are in the best possible position when that door opens.
To all my other selves: Be gracious and appreciate what you've got.
God knows there's a lot in life to appreciate.
I just read a little article in Wine Enthusiast magazine about Miranda Lambert. Whoever she is.
In the interview, they asked her the question: What would your 16-year-old self think of yourself now?
It made me think that this would be a good blog post.
Today, Sheryl and I went to a graduation party for one of her cousins' kids. It was nice. We had a lot of fun hanging out with her cousins. It was sort of like sitting at the kids table for Thanksgiving. I received some kind words from Sheryl's Aunt, and we laughed. A lot.
My 16-year-old self would not understand the nearly 45-year-old version of himself. In fact, the 30-year-old version of me wouldn't understand me.
The 16-year-old me might enjoy hanging out with me, but that's not a given. I was still trying to figure out my way through high school. Still trying to deal with the kids I went to school with. I don't think the current version of me could really tell the 16-year-old version of me anything that would stick with the 16-year-old me. No advice. No wisdom. Nothing.
That's how closed-minded I was at 16.
The 30-year-old version of me would like the current me, but wouldn't spend a lot of time with the current me because the 30-year-old me was out looking to party most of the time. I was still 4 years away from cancer. 4 years away from changing my neurotic mindset. And 7 years away from meeting my future wife.
7 years from changing my life - for the better.
My 16-year-old self would not have enjoyed today's graduation party. My 30-year-old version would have had a few shots beforehand. And my nearly 45-year-old self recognized that there are things you will be a part of that you never expected.
What is the most important piece of advice I would give my 16-year-old self?
Don't be afraid. You can do anything, and will accomplish a lot. Enjoy the ride.
The most important piece of advice I would give my 30-year-old self?
Don't try to force things. Everything comes about at the right time. Just make sure that you are in the best possible position when that door opens.
To all my other selves: Be gracious and appreciate what you've got.
God knows there's a lot in life to appreciate.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Days and Days and Days...
Last weekend, Sheryl and I went to a bar to see a musical duo - half of which was a former patient of hers. Had a nice time seeing Mario play. And since Mario and I are brothers-in-disease, it was just plain good to see him and talk to him.
That's something about the cancer survivors that I run across. We have a different point of view on life, and it's something that doesn't have to be spoken about - you see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices, and feel it in their touch.
The next day, we went to visit with our friends, whom we haven't spent much time with in a long time. Over wine and cheese, we caught up with stories, advice, and memories.
Life is built on weekends like that.
The workweek, on the other hand, was brutal. As a result, I took today off.
My day was essentially filled with a lunch date with my cousin and yes, an amazing bike ride.
The 13.6 mile ride today added to the 12 mile ride I did in yesterday's 100 degree heat. As usual, the rides did wonders for my head and body.
This weekend will be spent at the ballpark, with my mom and Bill, and with Sheryl's relatives.
I can't wait to see what life will look like on the other side of these next few days...
Last weekend, Sheryl and I went to a bar to see a musical duo - half of which was a former patient of hers. Had a nice time seeing Mario play. And since Mario and I are brothers-in-disease, it was just plain good to see him and talk to him.
That's something about the cancer survivors that I run across. We have a different point of view on life, and it's something that doesn't have to be spoken about - you see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices, and feel it in their touch.
The next day, we went to visit with our friends, whom we haven't spent much time with in a long time. Over wine and cheese, we caught up with stories, advice, and memories.
Life is built on weekends like that.
The workweek, on the other hand, was brutal. As a result, I took today off.
My day was essentially filled with a lunch date with my cousin and yes, an amazing bike ride.
The 13.6 mile ride today added to the 12 mile ride I did in yesterday's 100 degree heat. As usual, the rides did wonders for my head and body.
This weekend will be spent at the ballpark, with my mom and Bill, and with Sheryl's relatives.
I can't wait to see what life will look like on the other side of these next few days...
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