Bike ride, another death and children

The weather is getting better.  I did ride my bike to work four days and could have a few more, although the wind was over 20 MPH, and I opted to drive.  The weather next week looks better.

For Christmas, I was given BarMitts for my road bike. I loved them in the morning, as I could ride with fingerless gloves. The hands provided the most incredible warmth on my body (besides the obvious location, the crotch). I only wish they were easy to remove for the ride home when they are not needed.

Been another tough few weeks.  Last week, I left a meeting and was told my co-worker had rushed off as her brother had just died unexpectedly.  Then I discovered my boss's father has cancer and is fighting for his life.  Then, on April 1, I was told that a very good friend's son had died.  I was really disgusted at such a cruel April Fools joke.  Then I found out it was true and it was not an accident.  I will never understand!

Thursday, I was walking at lunch with a 56-year-old friend who I knew had really been in a depressed state of being.  I thought it was just the deaths we experienced the past few months, with several suicides and just as many unexpected accidental deaths.  Between us, we now have personally experienced 16 deaths in the past 15 months, with 7 of those being under the age of 25.  However, after 10 minutes, she told me about her issues with her daughter.  I was surprised; I knew what she had done and would not expect issues.

I knew she needed to talk, so we quit walking and sat on the park bench next to the creek. I did not have an afternoon meeting, so I was prepared for a long lunch break and then working late to make up the time. She proceeded to tell me the issues she was having with her daughter. 

A little background, I have known her daughter for 18 years.  She raised her as a single mom, as the father left them when she was about a year old.  I have seen her sacrifices, working three jobs, and crying during challenging times when her daughter started to stay.  She was able to pull her back, but not without impacting her relationship and health.  She was there for all her daughters' life events.  She made sure her daughter went to college and succeed.  After college, her daughter moved to New Mexico to take a great job.  She would travel to see her daughter 5-6 times a year, and her daughter came home a few times.

I reminded her that she was raised financially on her own as a sole parent, a strong and independent woman. I reminded her that she should be proud of how her difficult few decades of life may have sapped her energy, but she has an independent and successful child. I reminded her that she did this without child support or public assistance.

She is very proud!  What I did not know until this day is that two years ago, her daughter searched for and found her father.  Since that date, her daughter has taken a lot of energy to meet her father and gain a relationship she never had before.  Her father was married and had one stepdaughter.  He was successful and traveled.  He was not worn out like my friend.  Like my friend, he was fun to be with and did not get his life zapped from years of hard work.

Most recently, my friend was planning her normal Easter trip to see her daughter. Her daughter asked her not to come as she was going to Boston to be with her father over the Easter Holiday. She said her daughter sees her less and less, only returns an occasional text message, and answers fewer than half the phone calls. They once spoke at least every three days, and now, it may be a week or more.

She said the last time she visited her daughter, in early February, they were out sightseeing when the deadbeat who ran out on them called. Her daughter excused herself and went on her own way for about 40 minutes to talk with her father. She was mad, and they argued, which only made matters worse.

She started to cry, saying she gave so much energy to raising her daughter, and she was physically and emotionally worn out.  She felt it was unfair for her daughter to brush her aside for something new and fun.  She felt her daughter was selfish and lacked respect and care for all she sacrificed.  I thought she was suicidal at that point and was not sure what to say.

I told her that people are strange and emotions are even more complex.  I reminded her that she no longer has any control and that they are different because people in their 20s want something new and exciting, not old and regular.  I reminded her that kids are no different than other people, often more selfish and less understanding, just as we were at that age.  I suggested she see someone to help sort out what she views as losing a child; only hers is still alive.  That is unlike that of my good friend whose 19-year-old son took his own life on March 31.

I just did not know what else to say, and that is not typical for a strongly opinionated man like me. I am at a loss for words. I did tell her that kids are just free-spirited souls who are now tired like us.  

I told her of how my own son called me about flying to the West Coast to get together for a weekend April 30- May 2) after his birthday.  I told him I would look for options and needed to get away from the 60-hour work weeks.  I told him I was getting worn out!  I found an excellent flight to Portland and tried to text and call for the next two days, but he did not answer.  Then he called when I was heading into a meeting, and we could not talk.  The next day, I got a quick call to say he had other plans.  

I had already arranged the time off and was waiting to purchase the ticket, but something changed. As with her, I felt bad but also knew I had no control. He is much like I was in my 20s: little care for others who could not keep up with my energy, little time for the parents, and very independent. 

However, I do know that we as humans always regret things after someone has passed, but we seem to minimize the opportunity to be with someone when they are right in front of us.  I know a friend whose father committed suicide last year, and he is missed.  But I often wonder how much he was missed before he was gone?

Carry on, my friends, carry on!

RIP Steve Wilkinson

This was a tough week for me. Many past thoughts went through my head. I sometimes believe everyone wonders if they are good humans, as I have had many doubts. Much of my life and others are filled with mentors who help shape who we are and how we live.

In this blog, I wrote about the only mentor I had until I was in my teens: my grandfather. In my high school years, I had Mr. Gary Clark and Mr. Larry Anderson. They were two people who influenced me to take life seriously. I often wonder if I would be where I am today or in jail without them.

Until I had a son, I thought I naturally wanted to raise him to have a full, emotional, yet stable life. Then I tried to, and I discovered a big difference between believing a boy should show his feelings freely and actually having a boy who does. I was fortunate in 1984 to attend a tennis camp called Tennis and Life Camp. While I always remembered the lessons from that camp, I never really implemented them in my own life. 

Raising a child is difficult, and because of my emotional faults, I was a single father.  I decided that my son needed to have good role models.  He already had a very wise lawyer as a grandfather who was instrumental in raising a fine young man.  The other was Steve Wilkinson.  He was the originator of the fermented tennis camp.  I decided it was best for my son to attend the camp. 

Because of my son’s perceived handicap, Steve really took my son under his wing.  He emphasized the importance of the three crowns in tennis and in life. 

The first crown symbolizes that you have the choice to be positive, no matter what the situation. You should focus on the things in your control and let go of the things that are not in your control. For example, when you compete, whether you win or not isn’t in your control, just as your final grade isn’t in your control—what you can have control over is your attitude.

The second crown is a commitment to giving your full effort. Don’t just blow off a course; give it your all—regardless of the grade you will receive, the comments you may receive, or the regret you may feel as you live your life.

The third crown is good sportsmanship, and we are always looking for ways to affirm that. That’s why I teach sports ethics. It combines my interest in religion with sports—a meaningful combination.

So, I truly believe my son had three fathers.  Besides the biological father, me, he had his grandfather and Steve Wilkinson.  Steve died this past week.  That resulted in a hole in many hearts, including mine and, I am sure, my son’s.

If the readers of this post do not know the man, I suggest you read the memoir he published before his death. It is called “Let Love Serve,” and I really suggest you read it. It will give you a full understanding of what it means to live life fully. 

We will be going to this funeral next week, and I, for one, will have a difficult time.  I anticipate my son will as well.  When you lose such a hero, it is difficult.  Although now, more than at any time in my life, it is important to recall the lessons Steve taught me 30 years ago and, this time, implement them.

Carry on, my friends, carry on…

R.I.P. my hairy friend

My girlfriend called me yesterday while I was on a short vacation in Duluth. She informed me she had to make the decision to put Jackson, the best Golden Retriever I have ever known, down.  She needed to do it sooner than later.  Just like Annie before him, he was recently riddled with health issues in his old age (over 77 dog years).  For almost two months, his health diminished.  He had lost about 20 pounds and over 70% of his hair.  We had already been medicating him for a few months, as Shelley took him to the Vet yesterday (the day after Thanksgiving).  He was having trouble breathing and, at times, standing.

She was told she could medicate him and maybe receive a few months, but the quality of life was highly questionable. We've been in denial for a few weeks. This is not an easy decision, especially for her, as this is the best dog she ever had as a companion. 

Shelley had gained her new friend, Jackson, a very short time after her divorce, 11 years ago.  He was just over six months old when I met Shelley.  Those who know me know I tend not to allow myself to be close to dogs, as I know they should die well before me.  I know from my youth that people and dogs die, so I protect my heart.  I had a dog I loved as a child die, and I had six high school friends die between the ages of 14-19 years old.  Death is inevitable and painful unless you're the one who is dead.

Jackson was no ordinary dog.  He always looked at me with the highest admiration and sought my appreciation.  He really wanted to be my friend.  For years, I was reluctant to show my gratitude to him.  Then, after 5 years, he became my buddy.  The love and appreciation grew.  Over the past year, he was just as much my best pal as my girlfriend's pal.  So putting him down hurt, but nowhere near as much as it is for her.

When it came to attention, love and affection, and a steady flow of dropped food, Jackson knew that sticking by me was a win-win situation.  He greeted me every morning when I woke.  His old eyes just looked at me with affection.  He met me at the door each night when I came home from work.  We would go outside for a while, then inside to get a treat and a good scratch.   

When I was at my computer, he would lie down next to me and sometimes me his wet nose under my arm to seek affection, which I continuously gave with the highest appreciation for being a great pal!

When we went on a walk, he had a unique behavior. He would put his leash in his mouth so he did not bark. He always loved to eat grass! At times, I thought he was more like a cow than a dog. He was also a protector—well, kind of, as he barked hard at anyone he did not know but then immediately became mush if challenged.

You see, all dogs are different.  I know Jackson was exceptional.  Even the same breed would undoubtedly have distinct personalities, quirks, and abilities.  Annie, my girlfriend's older Golden Retriever, was not the same.  I never grew attached to Annie, as she did not care if I liked her.  But Jackson wanted to be my best friend.  He never gave up, and now I feel the pain of the loss of a dog.  One I never wanted to experience again after my first experience at a young age.  I will get through this, I know.

I worry about my girlfriend.  She is really struck with grief.  I typically minimize the grief from pet loss, although I have read quite a bit as my own father once had more grief from pet loss than I understood.  I once thought if I died, my father would have fewer issues than if the dog died.

When we returned from Duluth, my son tried to get my girlfriend to smile, and he succeeded. This was a blessing to her—more than he will know. He made a snow dog for the front yard as a memorial.

Making the dog

Scratching the ear

In the mid-1980s, I never understood the heartfelt pains of a pet's loss. In fact, I thought it was a worthless emotion. My father caused this by kicking me out of the house when I let the dog out, and he ran away. He cared more for that dog than his children or his wife.

In 1989, I read a report where grief expert Kenneth Doka wrote pet loss (like perinatal death and induced abortion) was "disenfranchised grief."  This means a griever's relationship with the deceased, and therefore, the griever's grief, is not sufficiently recognized by other people. Pets, unlike people, are not publicly mourned, which means that grievers don't get the social support they need to recover.

I also read that pets are suitable for people and good for couples.  A 1995 study of couples' day-to-day interactions found "…couples with dogs had greater well-being, and those with the highest attachment to their dogs — and who confide in them — fared the best. Interestingly, talking to dogs — in addition to one's spouse — was related to greater life satisfaction, marital satisfaction, and physical and emotional health. Confiding in pets to 'discuss' difficult life situations greatly relieved stress."

A 2002 study measured the cardiovascular changes of 120 married couples while they performed two stressful tasks: "5 minutes of rapid serial subtraction by steps of three from a four-digit number" and a 2-minute hand bath in ice water. The study found that participants had lower heart rates and blood pressure when performing these tasks in front of their pets than in front of their spouses.

Pets, the authors suggest, offer unconditional support under duress, with no judgments. "While the idea of a pet as social support may appear to some as a peculiar notion, our participants' responses to stress combined with their descriptions of the meaning of pets in their lives suggest to us that social support can indeed cross species."

Digging into this research has helped me understand the value of having a dog and more fully appreciate the bond I had — and apparently still have — with the one I lost.

One question remains: How long do you wait after one dog dies before doing it again? Or is it better not to do it again? We can now leave for days, but who cares? We can go on a whim and not worry about dog care. There are benefits both ways.

I often wonder, for others, if you get the same kind of dog, is it comforting to have a similar set of dog traits in your life once again, or instead, just unfortunate?  I do not know, but I do know one thing.  I never wanted to become so attached to a dog as the loss, I know all too well, hurts.  Jackson was special.  Very, Very special.  He pulled me in and had affection for me.  He was happy to see me each day.  I will miss him very, very much.

RIP my friend, RIP!  You and Annie have a good ole time!

30 down, not sure there will be 31

It was 30 years ago, well over half my life, that I made a goal of running Grandma's Marathon and Twin Cities Marathons each for 25 consecutive years. The postal service goofed up my Twin Cities Marathon streak at 12 when the mail sorting machine chewed up my entry, which was returned after the race. So I have Grandma's, where I am a Lifetime Entrant (I never pay an entry fee, as I paid $100 in 1990).

When I reached the 25th year, I was prepared to be satisfied with achieving that goal.  Then, the 2009 Grandma's entry information date came, and my son encouraged me to run with him for a 26th race. After a few minutes at the start, I think he was gone!  Then, for the 27th, I decided to run 5.24 miles and quit.  That would mean I ran 26.2 consecutive Grandma's Marathons.  My son decided to run the whole race with me, so I could not quit at 5.24 miles, as this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  But he stayed with me the entire way, and I cherished that time with him.  So finishing 27 means only one thing!  The goal was now 30 consecutive finishes...  

The 30^th Consecutive finish at Grandma's Marathon is complete. I went into the week of the race thinking the two 2-mile runs, a 4-mile run, and a 5-mile training run in the two weeks before the race were inadequate to finish. For the past three years, I think I logged less than 15 miles running between each Grandma's. I do bike and walk. Running has lost all its allure, and I generally hate even a mile run. Walking is now even that enjoyable.

This year, Jordan was going to run the race with me.  We left for Duluth on Friday at about 2:00 PM.  It was just us, as Shelley had plans with her parents in Lincoln, Nebraska, and my sister could not make the race in years.  We arrived in heavy fog and 48 degrees at 5:15 PM (traffic was horrible) and quickly picked up our packets.  We walked around Canal Park, freezing!  Jordan had won Spaghetti tickets, so we ate a below-average meal and headed to the car to sleep.  By 10:30 PM, we were sleeping.

 

I woke at 4:00 AM, and the race forecast was dismal: cold, rain, and winds. The only thing that could have made the weather look worse was snow. Thank God that did not happen!  

Jordan woke at 5:00 AM, and we were headed to the train by 5:25 AM. We made it to the start with about 45 minutes to prepare. All went well as we contemplated what to wear. I wore a real shirt with arm warmers, and Jordan wore a double-layer short-sleeve. We even each made it through the Biffy lines and lined up 10 minutes before the start.

When we started, I felt like I imagined the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz needing oil.  Just needed to feel more smooth.  The first mile was 11:29, and every mile was slower until miles 9 and 10. We gained about 30 seconds a mile.  Then we were in a run/walk and 16-minute miles to the finish.  At Mile 23, I was very nervous about finishing.  Cramps started, and I used all my mental capacity to vary the strides and paces to hold them off.  I was concerned I would get a Charlie horse, eliminating the chance to finish.  Wisely, we chose to take it easy.

As a side note, between Mile 11 and 16, there were several times I was going to quit.  I was hurting all over and very cold.  Mentally, I am not as strong as I once was, which made the race hard.  Jordan was just hanging with me for support, although at times, he would unknowingly cause me issues as he continually asked how I was doing.  To answer, I could no longer block out the pain.  My left ankle was in heavy pain, and I felt cramp-like twinges in various muscles from mile 12.

In the end, I scored 6:36:48, whereas last year, I scored 6:33:59, so I was consistent.   

I really like the medal this year!

The only issue I have now is what is left.  This is a time when it is easy to get depressed as I am running out of goals to keep me going. I need a goal to live.  Someone asked me why I did this or rode my bicycle from Denver to Minneapolis. I told them it reminded me that I was still alive.  This is the only reason 31 is in my mind, but I realize that less than 15 miles of training will cut it, and I despise running. Wonder which one will win out?

Carry on, my friends.  Carry on!

THE FINAL Comments - Denver to MPLS

Over two weeks have passed since the ride was completed. I postponed a final post, awaiting the resolution of any lingering discomfort. Despite this, I still experience significant numbness in my left hand and partial numbness in my right hand. Only the little finger and a portion of the ring finger remain numb.

I have been informed that this is not uncommon and that the healing process may take longer than a month. While the condition has not improved and remains frustrating, I have received valuable advice from several well-intentioned friends. I have implemented their recommendations, and stretching exercises have proven to be most beneficial. I have come to understand that the pain does not originate from the hand or wrist, but rather from the elbow. As many bicycle websites elucidate, Ulnar Nerve Entrapment at the elbow is the underlying cause of numbness.

This makes sense since I minimized the impact on my hands and wrists, but the pain persisted. I’ll have my bike refitted because my position caused extra elbow strain. I should’ve thought of this earlier. In running, the hip can cause ankle pain, the foot can cause knee pain, and the knee can cause hip pain. It’s odd how this complex machine (the human body) has so many parts that affect others.

Well, some bicycle lessons learned include:

• Enjoy the scenery and journey. I prioritized reaching my destination, but if I were to do it again, I’d plan all hotel or camping options without preconceived notions. That way, I could adjust to each day and the elements.
• I plan hotel stays. Camping costs $300 less, but setting up and taking down the camp, as well as the decreased sleep quality, detract from the experience. So it may be inexpensive, but there are expenses like bike maintenance, eating, and other needs to consider. A good night's sleep, a shower, and no concerns over nighttime weather would make the trip easier.
• If I hadn’t planned to camp, I could’ve removed about 40% of my gear, saving over 20 pounds and making the ride easier while conserving energy.
• Knowing road conditions is crucial for such trips. I was familiar with the road from Colorado to Nebraska, but I was unfamiliar with the construction and activities that required more knowledge for Iowa and most of Minnesota. This created tension and stress, detracting from the ride quality. I also test-drove the planned route on a Saturday, finding weekday traffic to be much higher and more dangerous.
• Ensure you have a good pump and plenty of tubes for the bikes. We had a decent pump and used eight tubes, but we couldn’t consistently use it when our hand strength diminished. We were able to inflate the tires to about 65 psi, but not the desired 100 psi. The CO2 required frequent filling, but the air wasn’t sustained; overnight, we had a flat tire.
• Calories and water are crucial. Losing control of these will delay recovery for more than a day. We reminded each other to eat or drink.

That encapsulates my thoughts. It was an unforgettable ride. I sometimes forget on purpose, as expected with stressful rides, but I always consider it a positive experience. I hope my son feels the same.

I may be way off base, but I don't know how many 51-year-old men would even consider taking their child on such a ride. The stamina, strength, and overall well-being of a 25-year-old are significantly different from those of a 51-year-old. I am proud to have accomplished this, but I know it would not have been possible without my son's support and guidance.

This final entry is the end of the blog. I may resurrect this blog if I attempt another trip. As I type these words, I realize this chapter of fatherhood is over and will never be the same.  This venue enabled me to archive forever, in real time, with edits, which would have been very difficult 15 years ago.

In moments of melancholy, I find solace in composing songs, using the writing to alleviate the emotional burden. Upon my return from this journey, I dedicated myself to translating my thoughts into lyrical form. The resulting composition, aptly titled “Bicycling Through the USA,” has met with my satisfaction. The lyrics are as follows:

Two wheels rollin' down the highway

Golden fields and skies of blue

From Tennessee to California

Chasing dreams with every view

By the river, through the valley

Pedalin' past a worn-out shack

Grit and gravel feel the freedom

Ain't no way I'm turnin' back

(Chorus)

Bicycle through the heartland, feel the wind in my hair

From the Rockies to the bayou, I'm goin' everywhere

Every pedal's a memory, every road a new day

Bicycle through the USA, I'm ridin' away

Campin' under stars of Dixie

Wakin' up to mountain air

Small-town smiles and classic diners

America, you treat me fair

Rusty bridges wide open spaces

Lakes and forests towns so small

Every day, a brand new story

This bicycle's my freedom call

(Chorus)

Bicycle through the heartland, feel the wind in my hair

From the Rockies to the bayou, I'm goin' everywhere

Every pedal's a memory, every road a new day

Bicycle through the USA, I'm ridin' away

I’m riding away

(Chorus)

Bicycle through the heartland, feel the wind in my hair

From the Rockies to the bayou, I'm goin' everywhere

Every pedal's a memory, every road a new day

Bicycle through the USA, I'm ridin' away

I’m riding away

I’m riding away

So carry on, my friends. Moreover, if you ever have the chance to do something like this with your child, do your best to seize the opportunity!