Another Birthday

Today, July 7, 2011 would have been my sister's 44th birthday had cancer not taken her from us on January 31, 2006. Fifth year anniversary.

So, happy birthday, sis!

She was given the official diagnosis on her birthday in 2005. Quite a gift. She called me while I was at work and told me. I went into my bosses office and cried. On October 22, Smarty Pants was born, my daughter that would never know her aunt. In December, I forget the day, she called as I was driving into work and told me she was going to die, and that the doctor wanted to see us so that he could explain. And now she is gone...

Look at the time, from diagnosis to death. Six and a half months. That is what liver cancer does to you. It kills you, quickly and terribly.

Heidi's birthday is the only day that I make an extra effort to take her flowers, and remember her life and short time here. I say extra effort because I remember her every day. I don't want to do anything on the day she died. Memorial Day has become like Valentine's Day, so I focus on her birthday. It was the day she was welcomed to the the world, and unlike her life, that can't be taken away. Plus, it's on her birthday that we did a great thing as siblings, we got each other cards that made fun of each other. Goddamn I miss those cards. I still give her one.

Every year I get up in the morning, go and buy flowers and pick out a card. I go to the cemetery and clean up the markers of Heidi and my grandparents (right next door). I cut, arrange and water flowers for both markers. I do this alone, with my memories — great, good and bad — that fade in and out as I go about my work. I don't want company. I want it that way.

It's a little thing, but it's all I have. Considering our age spread of seven years, she was gone and married and having kids by the time I was old enough to really start enjoying her company as an equal adult. As we grew older our relationship matured and she wasn't just my big sister anymore, she was my friend. One of my best friends. I talked to her about things I couldn't with my parents, or anyone else. It's a hole that has never been filled. If I need help or to vent about certain things, I just don't get it, and it stays with me. Probably good reason #76 to see a psychologist. Even though we were siblings for 32 years, I really only got to know her well for about 17 of those. And that just wasn't enough time. I wish I knew her better. I wish... But who knew? Of all the things that just, well, fucking suck about her death, two things stand out: she left behind two daughters that I don't get to spend enough time with, and a niece who she'll never be able to spoil.

This year, I had trouble picking out a card. And that troubles me. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe it shouldn't. But I barely had it in me. I settled on one, but it wasn't funny. It was respectful. And sort of funny. But not disparaging. I know that I am not getting any less comically ruthless as I get older. I think I am worse than ever, actually. I just carry it like a concealed weapon instead of on my hip like a gunslinger. I have no answer. Maybe it was just today. Maybe it will be worse next year.

I'll close by reminding you, gentle readers, to love your life. Appreciate and get to know those you love and who love you so that there are no regrets if they are taken unexpectedly. Take nothing for granted, appreciate your family and siblings, even though they may be a pain in the ass sometimes — or all the time. Trust me on this one, I know what I am talking about.

And give a little something to cancer research today. Livestrong, American Cancer Society, Cancer Sucks! or whatever. Find a marathon, century ride or something where the proceeds go to cancer research. DO SOMETHING! I know pink ribbons are all the rage right now and believe me, I like breasts probably a little more than the next person, but cancer is cancer and I don't believe in pigeon holing funds for one type of research. But if saving boobs are where you want your money and time to go, then do it. Cure breast cancer and then move on to the next type. The shit kills people more indiscriminately than al quaeda, and there's a great chance of it getting me someday. There's your PSA for the day. Take care of yourselves.

Pain and a Few Words on Modesty

The last day of June was my first "real" mountain bike ride of the year. How f#@king sad is that?

I'll tell you it's pretty sad coming from a guy that used to live, and I stress live, to mountain bike. I rode, trained and raced. I ate, drank and slept to mountain bike. I even got sorta fast. Sorta.

But last night on the trails above Ogden was just brutal. Buhrootal. My bike is old. I'm too fat for my clothes. My fitness is lacking. Any riding skills I ever had have packed and left. I've been out on a couple of shorter rides this year and last night in the heat really confirmed the aforementioned woes.

Yet, in spite of the pain in my "quads" and back and pride, I still enjoyed myself immensely. Which got me thinking. When I started mountain biking 20 years ago (HOLY SHIT!), a mountain bike was all I had to ride and mountains were pretty much where I rode it. Then I started racing and bought a road bike to train on. Then I started riding more and more on the road, but still had time as a single man to get my mountain bike fix. If I rode five days a week, two or three would be in the dirt.

Then I started really enjoying the road bike. There is something great about mindlessly ticking off the miles, and it is easy to open the garage and just go out for a couple of hours. And I got a new bike I really like riding.

All of the sudden life got all serious with a kid and house and stuff, and I am lucky to ride twice a week. Then along came marathons. Try training for those and riding bikes. Then triathlons. Three sports to train for, four if you count mountain and road biking separately.

What's a guy to do? Day's aren't getting any longer. My life ain't either. I've been tempted to unload the road bike and get back to only riding a mountain bike. But then I lose the ability to grab and go on the road bike. And I do still enjoy the road bike. And why do I sign up for marathons? I need to swim, my back appreciates it, especially when riding.

I guess I need to just learn to embrace mediocrity. Even though my loss of mountain bike skills is a tough pill to swallow, I like the other stuff enough that I need to get used to it.

On a different subject, I hope that modesty comes back into fashion as Smarty Pants grows up. I've had a pair of incidents lately with attractive, long-legged ladies running/hiking in booty shorts with seriously, a one-inch inseam. Don't get me wrong, I'm far from a prude and certainly like looking, but save it for the swimming pools - where you expect to see it.

I hope fashion re-vovles into clothing that keeps ass cheeks covered by the time my daughter is a teenager. I can't follow her everywhere with a loaded assault rifle.

Coexist

One of the few things the people I bought my house from blessed us with is a strawberry patch. Though not huge, it provides us with enough of the seedy little nibbles for about a month or so every year. We don't get enough to do anything like canning or jamming (metal kick), but I do end up eating more waffles and french toast this time of year.

The trouble is, something else likes my strawberries. I'll frequently wander out to the patch in my manties in the morning (neighbors be damned), clutching a cup of joe (double damned), to get a handful of strawberries for my breakfast. I end up tossing a fair number of berries because they are half devoured. I never knew what was assaulting my treats until yesterday. Sow bugs. Roly Polys. Potato bugs. These multi-legged throwbacks to the paleolithic period are burrowing into the fruit of my garden's loins. Them and their blobulous little sluggy buddies.

Bastards. I think Smarty Pants, lover of all things armored and segmented, said it best after inspecting the nibbly damage they had caused. " Darn roly polys. I just don't think I can ever forgive them."

Damn straight, kid. So what's a guy to do when his labor of love is getting overrun by living ooze and tiny armadillos? Not sure. I hate insect sprays on the garden because I like to just pick and eat. Napalm is out. And it isn't like I despise all bugs. Just the ones that eat my fruits and veggies.

Or I could just coexist. (Insert sudden thought of the Coexist bumper sticker spelled out with fruit, bugs and the "O" as a no sign with pesticide.) Ha. Funny shit. They don't do much damage I guess. Now if the little bastards start on my potatoes or carrots, that will be different. Or earwigs (hated, vile creatures they are) get into my corn again. I'm just going to keep that napalm option open...

Does this Jersey Make Me Look Fat?

With summer finally coming to Utah, I have been making some occasional forays into exercise. It hasn't been easy. The getting out and enjoying the sun has been easy, it's the exercise itself that has been the toughie. My legs are killing me. No speed. No endurance. Both combine to make the Morgan (gulp) Marathon I am signed up for appear daunting. Tough course, light on fitness. It's going to be a slog. But, it's free because I won an entry. Heck, maybe I won't even finish this one. Or maybe I will. I dunno. I am hoping to make it under 4.5 hours.

So I am out riding the other day, on my way to East Canyon spillway. I catch my shadow on the road and notice I still have a little hair out the back of the lid. Then I remember I have on my white and pink Fat Cyclist jersey. And I haven't exactly been hittin' the weight room lately... and I start to wonder if I look like a woman. Long-ish hair, narrow shoulders, pink on my shirt... and it did seem like I was getting a little more room from passing cars. This is what I think about on road rides. Plus a bunch more stuff that I can't recall because I forget by the time I get back. But let me assure you there is some mind-blowing, world-saving shit going on in my head when I ride. And when I shower. I think of a lot of great stuff in the shower. I thought up a new ad campaign in the shower and now it is in national magazines. All while I am in lycra. Or naked and soapy with a shampoo mohawk.

Other than the Morgan Marathon, I don't really have any events that I am solid on. Mainly because work is nutzo and home projects are rampant and I just don't dare commit to anything too difficult. There are some trail runs out there. Maybe one of the Bear Lake triathlons - provided I do some swimming. If I do start swimming regularly, XTERRA is an option. At least the sprint. Regardless, now that the weather is looking warm I am just stoked to be training, even if it is for nothing particular. And that is my goal, to be fit enough to go and do any event, within reason, without gobs of specific training.

My run training for the marathon has increased. Unfortunately, I miss some runs that I normally get to do on my lunch break because I am just too dang busy to feel good about going. My pace has been slow, but in retrospect I think it is because I am tired from biking or longer runs. I had a shorter run last week and it kicked ass. But I ran 12 on Sunday and felt like shit. But I rode 40 miles the day before. I think that good training, with a short taper and some good rest before the marathon, and careful pacing will have me finishing and not hating myself.

I really need to lose 10 pounds. My jerseys are kinda tight...

Let There Be Light!

I must admit that this is the worst shape I’ve been in, this late in the spring, for years. I’m going to go ahead and blame it on the weather. Again. Unlike previous years, this year has been extra wet and cold. Cold I can handle. Wet, less so. But both together are a deal breaker.

The sun has been trying to show itself more though, and it has been glorious. In the last week I’ve managed a pair of bike rides, one being the first mtb ride of the season, a couple of runs that have been less than pleasant and even made it back to the pool. The combination of sun and exercise has really motivated me. My attitude has improved — important because the amount of work in front of me is so overwhelming I want to hide until June, 2012.

I still have no fitness goals set for the summer. No LOTOJA this summer because I missed the registration deadline. I’ve also been waiting to see how much travelling I would be doing for work to set goals, lest I register for something and can’t make it because I am working on location. But it now appears most of my travelling will be in the fall and I am now free to commit to … something.

Maybe I’ll sign up for another half iron race; the Bear Lake race in August looks appealing. A trail running race might be different and interesting to try. Some mountain bike racing, a journey back to my racing roots, would be great. XTERRA long course? Maybe. Right now the summer is a blank slate and it’s feeling great to finally have the motivation to start filling it in.