Paren & theses

Some think life is a cyclical event, without identifiable beginnings and endings, but perhaps elements of openings and closings that signify change but are part of a larger closed loop. Others think life is full of chapters, and that as one draws to a close, another is beginning to unfold. Always a middle of the roader, I find it to be a little of both. Recently, however, the cycle that is my life has seen a few more of those identifiable beginnings and endings emerge.

The first of these drawing to a close leading to a new beginning moments involves a simple phone call and chance meeting last week. I recently learned time is now ticking more than before as grad school draws closer. It is hard to say when I'll be ready to just be friends but in an effort to not jeopardize good enough in search of perfect, I decided it was time to be try to be friends. Sure, there'll be missteps and blunders, but an attempt at friendship is an essential new beginning with someone immeasurably important to my life. A walk together around Green Lakes exemplified all elements of this but as time waits for no one, it is time. This signifies both a theses and a paren.

The unseasonably warm weather lead to an opportunity to make late fall and early winter preparations. Part of these included removing the plants from the garden we planted together, recently weakened as water filled cells froze and ruptured. Ripping out these plants was another way of separating lives that were once so entwined. Who knows what will volunteer to sprout next year, but a theses.

On Thursday, we lost our dear friend and brewing mascot Maple to a tragic and shocking turn of events. Struck and killed in front of her home, she appears to have gone doing something she loved (and perhaps couldn't help) - following a scent. You will be missed, Maple. The lighting of the pyre and burning of the shovel was a fitting way to reflect on your life, the joy you brought to those who knew you, and to say good bye. A definite theses.

In a longer term theses, I finally unloaded a weighty symbol of young and ignorant love. Receiving a mere fraction of what I was led to believe it was worth, I am frustrated by the deception and construed value placed on love by our materialistic society. I am thankful, however, for the insight of hindsight, and the knowledge I've gained from this experience. A theses.

Some things, however, may not ever have any closure. Today is the 15th anniversary of my grandfather's passing. I think of him less frequently than I used to but am reminded of his contributions to my life through little things. The stacking of wood, the ring of a wind chime, the use of a hand tool, or the "Grandpa Logan move", which is achieved when running late for an event but having the good fortune of finding a parking space right up front. I hope to channel your friendliness by someday being able to walk into a room of strangers and leave knowing a little something about everyone. I know I am a long way off from this, but it would be a great thing to accomplish.

[An explanation for the title is probably necessary. One of my high school math teachers called the ( a paren and the ) a theses when trying to teach us how to properly insert parentheses into mathematical equations. Seemed appropriate here for some reason.]

[untitled]

It is 3 am and I am awake again
I should warn you I am a hopeless romantic
Born in July I am a Cancer 
They say the worst one can be if a guy
So each time I try to cut it out of me

My scars aren't visible
I can't pick up or set down the knife
You see the scars, the knife are in my head
The blood I spill is in an invisible pool that only the in the inner circle get to see
No I cut myself with an uncontrollable mind trying to feel
I wind up feeling too much, and mutilating myself 
and all I love in the process
I wish that was just me but who am I fooling

I know it is you and you and you and

I continue until it is too late
Like the dead horse with nothing left to give
I should have stopped but I couldn't
I didn't know how
Those who care asked, told, and even prayed but I just couldn't stop

And now it Is too late

You're gone
Without a love
And I'm backing away
Licking my wounds

Hoping to heal
Hoping to stop the bleeding
Hoping to set down this blade
Hoping to learn how to grow

Raspberry Nutella Ripple Ice Cream

I usually write about things I'm facing, thinking about, or adventures I've been on. I post infrequently, sometimes going many months between additions. This summer has been a challenge for many reasons and I've not shared much of it. I thought I'd add a post about a new adventure involving food. I've been having a busy month and not really felt up to venturing out much so this was an adventure I could complete from home.

For my birthday, my family got me an ice cream maker. I decided I wanted to start out simple, making something I estimated would be difficult to get wrong after I mucked up my first attempt at hard cheese - farmhouse cheddar. I made french vanilla for the first batch and it turned out pretty good so I decided to try something more challenging for the second batch - raspberry ice cream with Nutella ripple. I found a number of Nutella ice cream recipes but they were all blended like chocolate would be but I wanted to try something different as I am not a big fan of chocolate ice cream. I just finished putting it in the freezer so I haven't tried it yet but want to keep the recipe around in case there is need for improvements or to repeat.

Raspberry Ice Cream (modified from here)
1 10oz. bag frozen raspberries
2 c. whipping cream
2 c. half and half
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 1/3 c. sugar
2 eggs
pinch of salt

I basically followed the instructions in the link except that I (a) didn't defrost the raspberries so I (b) added water to the blender mixture to try to get them to process more effectively. Once they were pureed, I squeezed it through cheesecloth to remove the seeds. Due to the excess water, I stirred the custard over medium heat for an additional 15 minutes after adding in the raspberry puree to evaporate off excess water.

I modified the ripple recipe from here, as it was the first one I came to that didn't involve corn syrup. I had about 1/3 of a large container of Nutella in the cupboard so I added it to 3/4 c. of warm whipping cream and continued to heat it until the Nutella had melted. I cooled the mixture in the fridge but it hardened too much to easily pour into the ice cream so I heated it again to get it slightly viscous. After churning the ice cream, I poured about 1/3 of it into a container, then 1/2 of the Nutella mixture, repeating this until both were used up.

I also replaced the cables and housing on the mountain bike with teflon coated ones - a quick spin down the driveway indicated these will be much nicer to use! Now to make it to October when I'll finally again have the time (and I hope motivation) to capitalize on this investment.

One day at a time...

One day at a time... That's the quote a friend of mine lived by as he battled inoperable cancer, cancer that claimed his life this past week. While these words are always true, now more that usual I need to be living by them too.

I don't know what brought me to this place today but as I sit at the hang gliding launch high above Labrador Hollow, I am struck by the number of times this place appears in memories that standout in my life.

It was here that I took my first backpacking trip with SUOC, and learned that pot isn't just smoked by the younger generations.

It was here that I had my only major disagreement with one of my best friends, someone who has supported me unconditionally through the toughest moments of my life.

It was here that I brought the girl who, likely unbeknownst to her, helped me discover that it is okay to be in touch with emotions I'm more apt to keep buried very deep.

It was here that I came with the girl who I decided to share those emotions with despite knowing the inevitable would likely happen - she did warn me afterall.

It is here that I now sit reflecting on these times, and to try to focus on what's next now that the inevitable has happened. How does one untangle that which has been so intimately entwined with grace and humility heretofore unachievable in my relationships?

I'm told it is better to have loved and lost than to have never have loved at all. As someone who would take physical suffering over emotional pain in every situation, I refute this statement with all I can muster. I am also told that I am a good person, and I need to find it in myself to have the confidence to believe this. Somehow I would like to find a way to distinguish being confident from being egotistical. I am told that I should find a woman who can meet me where I am in life, but just exactly where is that? I suppose that is what I need to focus on right now - where I am, what I want out of this journey, and how to begin making deliberate choices to continue to create the person who I want to be. No small task, for sure, but I believe I have a decent foundation to build from and remember, one day at a time...

A few ideas come immediately to mind, though they all challenge me to the core of who I am. One is to continue to try new things... step outside my comfort zone. I am pretty sure I am genetically predisposed to avoid this at all costs but over the past two years, I've enjoyed doing just this. Now I will need to push myself to take the road I am less likely to travel. Not all the time by often enough to keep things interesting. I think I see one of those roads from here.

Another is to create balance in my life between all the competing forces. Also no small task as I tend to be very focused on completing the task at hand without being aware of what is passing me by or slipping away. I've gotten a taste of what balance is like and have definitely enjoyed the rewards of this often elusive quality. Fortunately I've been blessed with a loyal group of friends, the type who you can go without seeing for months or years and when you get back together it is as if it was only yesterday you'd last spoken.

The last piece is to keep an eye on the destination but to more importantly enjoy the journey. It has been an amazing two years in which I've come to discover new things about myself and this crazy world. I'd never have experienced this without taking the risk, trying something new, and living in the moment for a little while.

To continue this journey, I will explore that new road I can see from here on my way home, on my way to one day at a time. 

Touching lives

After a long absence, I thought I'd dust this binary space off for some late evening reflection on some recent news that's gotten me thinking about the impacts we have on the lives around us, intentional or not.

Yesterday I learned that my father, a high school technology - although when he started it was industrial arts - teacher, decided to retire after 39 years. Pause for a moment and let that settle in... 39 years. In one job. A rough estimate is that he's taught approximately 4,500 high school students during this time (myself being one of them). He's taught sons and daughters of former students, and helped direct the lives of many a direction-seeking young adult. I don't know what many of his former students have gone on to do, but I am positive they all can look back on his class and see in some way, big or small, the impression it left on them. Some may have a very tangible reminder of the time spent with Dad, perhaps in the form of a beautiful piece of furniture they made, a boot-jack, or camp chair. Others may have gone on to pursue careers in architecture, construction, or radio broadcasting. All will likely remember the very funny or very terrible (depending on your viewpoint) jokes. He always says one of the incentives to pass his classes the first time is that the jokes don't get any better the second time around...

When I was still in school, he experienced probably one of the more difficult professional challenges of his career - a fight to save his job. There were some in the district that felt the courses he taught didn't belong in the "standard" curriculum and that students interested in taking these classes should do so only if they opted to enter into the "trades". This would have eliminated his position, and students who wanted to take both technical drawing or woodworking and chemistry or biology wouldn't be able to do so. I remember many a late-night meeting, and plenty of stressful months as this confrontation played out. In the end, the technology department prevailed and he kept his job. I am thankful for this because it meant that later I was able to gain a more well-rounded high school education by taking courses that provided hands-on as well as "passive" experiences.

So Dad, as you close out one chapter in your life, I'd like to take this opportunity to say thank you on behalf of all your former students for choosing the career path you did, and for taking the time to care passionately about us. I couldn't imagine for a moment being in a classroom of hormone-charged teenagers with power tools and coming out alive - and you've managed to do so for years on end, and succeeded in shaping lives along the way. Thank you.

Slow arrival's got me thinking

Trillium, Mayapple, Interrupted Fern, Trek Far

The long winter, wet spring, and slow arrival of single-track ready weather's gotten me a touch reflexive as of late. It's my first riding season without Trek Far, my trusted steed of nearly 11 years. Sure, it wasn't in the same shape it was when I bought it at Snow Den Sports in Johnstown, PA, on my birthday in 2000. The tires were original, and so were the dings and scrapes, but the bottom bracket was on its way out and the shock long ago lost its coosh. I'd replaced it in my riding hierarchy with a fancy carbon fiber full suspension xc racing bike, the wheelset alone costing twice as much as I paid for Trek Far. But it still holds a special place in my heart as the first real mountain bike I'd owned. It sort of started it all, in a way. After I bought it, my brother and dad upgraded to non-big box bikes too. It is the bike that also helped me learn it isn't the ride but the rider that makes the difference in many cases.

I've also thought back further, almost as far as I can go actually, to some of the first memories I can recall. And guess what - they involve a bike. They are of me and my dad going for rides. Me strapped into a bright red child set sans helmet (back before common sense was mandatory), orange flag flapping high above my head. We'd venture out along the state highway and turn down dusty, pothole-riddled seasonal roads that 30+ years later are no longer passable. There were only one or two of them, and the rides weren't that lengthy, but they seemed then, and today, to go forever. The good kind of forever. I recall just being out, spending time with dad and seeing whatever there was to see - the reflections of the sky in the muddy pothole water, frogs, tractors, grasshoppers and smaller jumping insects. I remember them hitching a ride on my dad's back, and me on occasion trying to flick them off. One of the more memorable rides was the one where we flatted along the highway, just about to crest the small rise south of the house I grew up in. It was a loud explosion, and I remember being very startled. Dad calmly got off the bike and pushed us back home. No ride that day, but still an adventure.

I think that's what I am longing for most in this soggy bridge between snowy winter xc ski trails and dusty summer single-track - adventure... It is there, calling, but life is too - sometimes in a deafening, drown-everything-else-out way. Time is rolling on, and it is me that needs to make the time to get back in the saddle and explore those roads before they too become overgrown and impassable.

Inspiration and cross training

My little sister is an inspiration. For a while now, she's been a gym rat, religiously attending her daily workout sessions at her preferred health club. At first it was to help her lose some weight, and now that she's successfully reached her goal, she's moved on to new things. Like running a half marathon in April. I've run a half marathon - it was fun but training for it was a bear. And I trained outside, where it was sunny and the air was fresh. My sister's pounding her miles out on a treadmill, a machine I despise. One of the least pleasant running experiences in my life occurred when I ran on a treadmill. I admire her grit and determination, and also recently decided I would benefit from taking a page out of her playbook. Not that I'm going to be running any half marathons, but just easing myself back into shape.

Syracuse is experiencing a true winter thus far this year. Snow came in early December to stay. I haven't seen my front lawn since then, which is the way I like winter to be. Since I got sick in mid-January, my already pretty inactive life (aside from my .3 mile walk to work) got even less active. This past weekend, though, I felt well enough to get out for a bit of xc skiing - 18 miles over two days. Monday I was a sore, slow man but felt refreshed. However, I can't get to a xc trail every day, and the roads are too treacherous for a ride, so I bit the bullet and got myself some properly fitted running shoes. A twenty minute run on Tuesday left me giddy. A rest day yesterday, and today 25 minutes. Not as giddy, but still feeling really well. And the pain I usually have with running? Not there. So thank you, sis, for inspiring an old guy to get off his duff. Good luck in April - I know the pain, and elation, you will experience. And if I can keep up the running, I'll be in better shape for when the trails open up this spring!

Miles run so far: 2.2 Tuesday, 2/1, 2.2 Thursday 2/3

Syracuse Bicycle History

I wonder if my affinity for bicycles is in my Syracuse heritage... didn't know this town was so rich in cycling history. This wikipedia link on E.C. Stearns Bicycle Agency make me want to learn about the other bike manufacturers that called this fair city home around the late 19th century.

Bicycle Dreams

Intense.

Learning to Enjoy the Ride, One Down

Things I've been forced to part with

Today I discovered I'd been violated. Thieves cut the chain securing the gate where my bike had been stored for about a week and made off with her. Upon this discovery, I was immediately filled with rage, then sadness, and now reflection.

Rage: How can someone do such a thing, something so obviously wrong? When something is locked, it is done so for a reason, right? My bike isn't like those other abandoned bikes, she's well maintained, used frequently, a part of my life. I hope your action is met with equally unsettling and harsh reactions, that the wheels fall off at inopportune times and you are injured, you insensitive, unscrupulous f#@$(s)!

Sadness: A piece of me is now gone - my first real mountain bike with a (for me at the time) fancy shock. I bought for the bike for my birthday in 2000 ($400), at Ski Den Sports in Johnstown, PA. I remember my parents being bewildered that anyone would pay more than $100 for a bike - I've since invested more than $3500 in the two bikes I still own. I rode it a lot until I upgraded to a full-suspension bike in 2007. It came with us on our cross country trip in 2002, was the steed for innumerable rides with my brother across the mid-Atlantic and Northeast. I remember taking it to the Catskills for my (very) naive try at downhill and smelling those rim brakes melting - oh, that's right, you're not supposed to use your brakes when screaming down a mountain full bore. Silly me. I also remember how I would race that bike and beat people who powered lighter, more expensive ones - sometimes quite handedly. (Now the reverse is true, sad to say...) How I was riding that bike the summer I bet my brother, lost, and had to shave my legs. I hope that the new "owner" has an opportunity for equally fond memories, although it saddens me to think the reality is that they (a) pawned it for a fix or (b) sold it to a scrapper for a fix. It also saddens me to think that someone's life has reached a point where they need to resort to thievery for supporting their existence, in whatever form.

Reflection: My first lesson in how to protect yourself from theft, funny enough, came using a bike. When I was young, elementary/middle school, I remember wanting a really cool BMX bike. I saved my allowance for what seemed like an eternity and finally was able to buy a Stu Thompson Huffy BMX bike. It came with a plastic seat (why, I don't know, it hurt like hell but I thought I was cool) and I rode that thing like mad - and had the scrapes, cuts, bruises and scars to prove it. Well, on one camping trip, I rode the bike to the bathroom. I left it on its kickstand out side the door and when I came out, it was gone. I panicked - I still remember how my heart leapt and stomach dropped - and started to run back to the campsite. I got a few strides away and I heard my dad calling. I turned around and there he was, around the back of the bathroom, holding my bike. I ran over and he proceeded to give me a lecture about how easily and quickly stealing happens and that I should be more careful. It was a lesson I've taken to heart, and, despite a few instances over the years (when I was in college, someone stole the brakepads off my bike - you needed tools to do this!!!), has been pretty successful. I feel somewhat responsible for the theft today. I'd left the bike there for week, providing someone with ample opportunity to case the situation. I'd felt some reservation about the system for locking - it was a narrowish gauge chain easily chopped with the right tools. But this affords a new lesson, one I've already been starting to discover. Don't ride fancy bikes and secure them very well if you think it might be a while before you use it again.

I have two more bikes (how many does one really need?) and I will miss Trek Far. Since upgrading, I'd ridden you less but still enjoyed your quirks - I never could get the shifting to be just right. You'd been downcycled to an around the town commuter for the most part, although recently the taste of dirt was back under your (original) tires. Wherever you are, I hope you are well and if you do happen to make it back my way, I promise to be more diligent in your overnight accommodations.

Closing moments

as the most recent year tacked onto my time draws to a close, perhaps a moment's pause is in due order. expectations were high - they always are - and for the most part, unmet. don't get me wrong, things certainly have not been bad, but i still long for the passing of the clouds, the taming of the poles, the promise of something more. i feel now i am at a fork, one i've been at many times, but constantly wind up on the same trail. sometimes i start down the one i know i need to be on, only to cut back to the more familiar, for their is comfort in the familiar. each day is a new opportunity to start anew but for some reason we mark beginnings with particular dates of some predetermined significance. so what do i resolve to on this day of unspectacular meaning? eat better ride more smile more build confidence work less think less go with the flow plan more react less eliminate should be ok with not being ok

arrive at the destination having enjoyed the journey

just breathe

Catchin' up

Summer is in full swing. Long, hazy, but not so lazy days. Warm, crazy, not so restful nights. So a brief recap...

A few weeks ago I squeezed in my longest ride of the season late on a Sunday. I decided to put in some "road" miles and follow the Erie Canal east as far as I dare go and still get back to town with some daylight. I've been chasin' the final rays of the sun a great deal in recent times so what the hell, right?

I felt really good on the way out, stopping at Byrne Dairy in East Syracuse for a Snickers. I had two bottles of Gatorade, enough to get me through by all accounts. I cruised through the roads until jumping on the canal path in Dewitt. East must be downhill because I made good time, even on a road bike with tires at 100psi squirrelling all over stonedust and mud. Of course I passed through areas where hissing geese guarded this year's brood of goslings... but nothing to worry about, right?

I hit Canastota at around 7:30 and knew I'd need to hustle to make it back before dark. I grabbed a soda (aka caffeine fix) at a pizza shop and took in a few glimpses of downtown. Like many upstate villages, Canastota is rich with history and you can tell there is a unique story to be told underneath the rich patina covering its buildings. One hopes someday we start to revalue these places.

As I headed back east, a light mist began to fall. Not so bad. Within a mile or so, it'd changed to be a steady rain. Great. 24+ miles to go in wet clothes. Combines with the short break and small food consumption level, I was beginning to fade. Ah, none the less, it was my legs or nothing to get back so I cranked on. I turned the iPod a little louder and was more selective with my KEXP podcast selections.

All was going well, albeit slower, and the sky began to clear so I stopped for a few photos. Just after a few capturing a few images of a particularly rural locale - and it is rural in 2010, imagine what it was like in 1850... - I ran into the geese again. I thought I knew what the proper buffer of respect between man and goose was but apparently, I entered the DMZ of one particularly protective goose. In a split second, it was on top of my helmet, flapping, honking, hissing, nipping. Fortunately, webbed feet and plastic have a very low coefficient of friction and the goose slid off. By now, I was half off the bike. The goose regrouped and was on me for a second go. Same scenario. Fortunately, none of the nips were landed and it slid off onto the opposite side, between me and the bike. I'd completely dismounted now and, as it regrouped and moved in for its third assault, I raised the bike perpendicularly as my own DMZ. This confounded the attacker, still honking, flapping, nipping, and it backed off. During what lasted probably all of 30 seconds, the partner and goslings had made it safely into the canal. Attacker backed off and joined them. Heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, I checked quickly for any sign of damage to the bike and person, and decided to get the heck out of there. Unfortunately, another goose family was 20 feet away, probably laughing, and not really getting out of the way - I'd just been bested by an 8 pound goose after all... I gave the an excessively wide berth and pedaled off. I contemplated for the rest of the ride, in between shouts and claps at all the subsequent geese I came across, how to introduce the respect needed between all to common Canada geese and those of us on the trail. The most effective idea was a pellet gun, also the most likely to get one jailed. The most likely to be implemented was the air horn.

I rode on and in to the city at just before dark, and 1.1 miles short of 50. It was an interesting and rejuvenating ride.

Having been very flat after leaving work the past weekdays, I've not taken full advantage of the late nights to go riding other than last Friday. I went out to Bear Swamp with a friend and we cruised around the trails. I'd forgotten my helmet and glasses so didn't push it too hard - most of the time. The helmet, I learned, also protects against bug bites. It is also very different to ride sans brain bucket. Surprisingly "free" in a weird way. Not something I'll do given the choice otherwise, but there certainly was a different, less inhibiting feeling. My friend's luck at Bear Swamp hasn't yet proven lucky, as the last time he rode there many year's back he broke his rear hub. Same result this time.

On Sunday, I hiked at Finger Lakes National Forest with a friend from work. We explored some trails I'd never been on (for the most part) in all the other hike's I've done there. I learned that jewel weed, when submerged, presents a very interesting metallic sheen. We saw a lone cedar waxwing, a few toads, a salamander, and a very tiny frog, while hearing plenty of wood thrushes, oven birds, eastern towhees, and veerys. On our way back, we took a trip along through Montezuma Wildlife Refuge, where we saw a great blue heron and four immature turkey vultures.

Would be nice if bike rides and walks in the woods were as plentiful as work days.

Someone very wise once said...

"When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking."
- Arthur Conan Doyle

Is it worth it? [Erratics]

Of course it is. [Maybe]

Last week I took a few days off to spend time with my brother while he was passing through town on his way from CO to ME. It was great to see him, spend time with all the family together, get in some good riding and a DMB show. Leaving work for a few days was good but I paid for it for most of this week (where the question comes from) by scrambling to answer emails, address questions, and get back up to speed on everything. Monday ended with the receipt an email informing me I had improperly filled out a form that jeopardizes our organization's next year of a federal grant. Fun. Needless to say, I was not in a good place. That day, I took advantage of the late sunset (8:41pm) to defrag the craziness, and frustration, by ripping through Green Lakes. Tasted a lot of blood - av'd 10.8 mph on a loop that I usually average 6 or 7. It felt great and even contained an experience that was symbolic of the day. As I was cruising through a corner, cranking to keep the momentum going, I caught a pedal, which resulted in me getting thrown to the ground. I haven't crashed in a while so it was a bit of a shock. But instead of dwelling on how I'd f'd up, I evaluated the situation - nothing broken, just some dirt tattoos - and got back on the bike, back up to speed, and on I went. Now to extrapolate said experience to the bigger picture... that would be nice.

[Break]

At times I feel like I stand at the very edge of a raging mudflow of activity. Creating its own gravity, this frenzy of activity generates more speed, and sucks in all it touches. Like standing on the edge of a train platform as the express rushes past, the compressed air at the front blowing me off my feet. But I don't, instead I get sucked into the vacuum in its wake. I struggle to right myself, grasping for stable objects. But everything is spinning, whirling, rushing, tumbling, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but always moving. Caught in some twisted crazy game of Frogger, I flail erratically grasping, dodging, treading. Sometimes I reach a ledge, a safe zone to cling to momentarily, maybe even use all my strength to pull myself out of the torrent. In this space, I reflect. Never good, but done nonetheless. The allure of the current is too great, and I will inevitably be drawn back for another escapade.

[Break]

Do you ever wonder about the nature of deja vu? I know it is the experience of feeling like you are repeating an experience of something you have only done once. But for a while now I've had a different type of experience, one I don't feel is deja vu. I don't feel like I've experienced it before in real life, but I do feel like I've dreamt that I was going through whatever situation I am in. Unfortunately, these moments typically occur when I am not in a place to stop, soak in the surroundings, but it is a weird, curious, interesting feeling. They are usually mundane activities, like filling out papers, but infrequently these have involved people I meet for the first time ever or are reconnected to after many years apart. Maybe I should start recording my dreams to see if I am really experiencing these things or am just going further and further into the deep end.

And finally, why do I share these thoughts with who ever will read about it through zeros and ones? I used to burden people around me with this by talking to them. Now we talk about the weather. Strangers, friends, loved ones, read this as a grain of sand for I am but one insignificant molecule of an infinite organism.

Memorial Day Weekend 2010

Well, the unofficial start to summer 2010 will be over in about 45 minutes. Still time for one more activity. It was an interesting, packed weekend and I didn't even get to do everything I'd planned. I know, big surprise there.

Friday was a low-key evening enjoying pizza for dinner with a friend and later some bowling at Green Lakes Lanes.

Saturday I woke up early, of course, and used the time to do laundry and run to the farmers market. I need to talk to their management about installing some bike racks because there is no dedicated place to lock up. The market was packed but I made two strategic stops - Wake Robin (yogurt) and a place out of Interlaken that sells organic free range eggs. Maybe a cheesecake is in the near future. I also cleaned my mountain bike for the first time this season, something I hope will prolong the life of some of the parts, although I am afraid most of the damage has already been done. I also put on new brake pads as the old ones were pretty smoked.

Later in the day I picked up my friend and we headed to Shindagin for the late afternoon and evening. The drive down was pretty as we took a route that meandered down between the lakes. Who knew there was a nudist colony in Moravia? Once at Shindagin, things kind of started to unravel quickly. First, my friend burned her leg on the tail pipe of my car while getting something out of the boot. We locked up the bikes and drove to Slaterville Springs to get additional supplies to my minimalist first aide kit - like disinfectant and tape. On the way, a rabbit made it's last dash, meeting it's maker via the undercarriage of my car. I felt terrible (still do) but there was no avoiding it. Once back at the trailhead, we started out for our ride. I forget what is hard to someone who hasn't ridden very much and took some more challenging trails. My friend did really well, clearing many obstacles I was not expecting but also took a few spills, one of which was particularly sketchy. I turned around just in time to see her go over the handlebars. She told me she was ok, and there were no visible signs of injury, but with my beginner biker track record, I need to be more careful in selecting, or warning, of trails and their obstacles.

We rode until about dusk, during which time my right pedal came apart, which was certainly a challenge. I wasn't able to keep my foot clipped in like last time and was concerned about impaling my leg with the pedal spindle. Fortunately, I didn't. We finished up riding around nine and ventured in to Ithaca for dinner at the Shortstop Deli, which put us back in Syracuse at 11, me at home at 11:30. Beat.

Sunday I was up early (again) and filled the water barrels at the Isabella Street community garden. By the time I finished that, it was off to the Southside to help install the Somali Bantu community garden. It is located on Oneida Street and built with donated materials from the Garden Soxx company. It was amazing to watch the community members, about half of which were teenagers, come together to build the garden. We laid out geotextile fabric and arranged pre-filled Garden Soxx into ~30' rows 2' apart. Then the community filled more Soxx, laying that out at varying row widths. One section was also "boxed" in using the Soxx and mounded up with compost and soil to grow potatoes, which I think will be an interesting experiment. The Filtrex folks also donated supplies to construct a drip irrigation system, something none of us had ever assembled. It was pretty straightforward and minus a few hiccups, we got it put together and working. I don't know what all was planted but it seemed like a lot. We went from no garden to planted irrigated Garden Soxx system in a matter of about 4 hours. Now I hope it works and generated the produce the community desires.

Sunday evening, despite my strong desire to do so, did not involve any biking. I went to another friends' house to have dinner, drink beer, and relax. Mission accomplished.

Monday I had made plans to meet up with a high school friend I haven't seen in about 15 years. We were to find each other at the Liverpool Memorial Day parade around 10. Got in my car, late of course, and it wouldn't start. Only clicking. I'd been pondering riding there and this confirmed that thought. I arrived too late for the parade but did get to see her and her family, as they waited around for me to show up. I always find it truly amazing when you haven't seen someone in a long time and you pick up as if you'd never lost touch. We all talked about what's been going on all these years. I found out she and her husband do triathlons and he's also a mountain biker. Too bad they're moving to WA at the end of June. We hope our paths will cross again before they leave, and they generously offered to help me out with my car woes.

On my way back from Liverpool, I crossed paths with two friends hoping to ride around Onondaga Lake. Not sure what route would allow them, but I hear it was a success. A quick call to Dad confirmed my suspicion that the battery had turned its last starter Sunday evening. I did some research and discovered not all batteries are created equal. After a few phone calls, I located one that the web said would fit like the OEM battery. A store two miles away had one in stock so I tied the old one onto my bike and went to pick it up. An extra 30 pounds strapped to your bike makes going downhill a bit quicker. Uphill, a different story. Standing to pedal was out of the question, as were sharp turns. The new batter was almost the right fit, a few spaces in the strap would have prevented it from getting tweaked. Started right up, though.

With a working car, I decided to take advantage of the 90 degree heat by going mountain biking at Highland Forest. I'd not been there yet this year, and was curious to see trail conditions. They were dry as a bone, with only a few seeps causing wet areas. I got very disoriented on the not always marked (or on the map) trails but had a good ride. Saw three other riders, one who helped me get my bearings. I also flatted - hope it is the only one of the season - which during the repair, I was a banquet for the local mosquito population. As I was wending my way back to the car, I flushed a ruffed grouse. It didn't really fly away, so I stopped and tried to get some pictures. It was very interested in getting back to the location I'd flushed it from, and I was able to have it walk within 5' of me. Low lighting (it was dusk and t-storms were rolling in) made pictures a challenge and it wasn't until all the fun was over that I realized I should have been recording a video. Oh well. Those t-storms on the way back helped to rinse off the bike.

Well, now the Memorial Day weekend in officially over. Tonight, late, my brother is arriving in Rochester on his way through from CO to ME. We're catching the DMB show in Darien Lake on Wednesday, and the band's been playing some old and new stuff, so we're holding high hopes for a great show. Either way, it'll be fun. Hope to get some riding in as well, although his three months at 9,000' will certainly make it immeasurably difficult for me to keep up. I also bought the new Broken Social Scene album, which was my companion for much of this weekend's solo adventure activities. I think it is pretty good.

All of the riding lately, including my April and May around town commuting, pushes me over the 200 mile mark for the season. This is well below what I hope, but on par for some of my respectable season totals. Would like to hit 1,000 again this year but the slow start is making it look not so attainable. There's the spirit...

A Weekend in B

Bikes

Bhutanese, Burmese

Baking in the broiling sun

Bitter, of the Lilac St brand

Being with friends

Bike

Blistering pace (for me)

Breaking 150

Biting bugs

Beautiful sunset

Bank

Bread

Birthday bash (for the big 3-0)

Bonnie, being cleaned and Brake lights

Being productive, even if late

Chasin' daylight

If the state is in such a budget crisis, why are trails being mowed? Shouldn't we be asked to experience nature, um, naturally?

After a few failed attempts, yesterday I got together with a friend to go riding. He hasn't been out on a bike since somewhere in the vicinity of 4-5 years, and the last time I rode with him he got a concussion, so we went easy at Green Lakes State Park. Well, sort of. There is a climb out of the double secret back entrance parking lot that is tough even when you've been riding frequently but we both survived and had a great time. Did a nice 9 mile loop, checking out one of the lakes along the way. Everyone kept rubber side down, and no minor mishaps occurred either.

Today I was up and out of the house early for the spring community garden planting. It was a bit chaotic but everything, I think, worked out. I am not sure exactly how many seedlings and seeds were planted in the garden but I know we had in excess of 120 seedlings. We even gave away ~100 buckets with pepper and tomato plants, as well as tried out planting pepper and tomatoes in this using one of these to fill them. Kind of like a wheel barrow cannon - for mulch.

Bear Swamp in late spring.

Now that we're a month away from the longest day of the year, I decided to take advantage of the late sunsets. After picking up my car, I thought of going to Highland Forest but didn't know if they would shut me out after a certain time. Instead, I meandered over to Bear Swamp where I new the only closing time I would be up against was daylight. I took a route I'd only driven once before, got a bit off-track - ending up south of the forest, but eventually made it to where I needed to be.

I suited up quickly, in light of the time and voracious mosquitos. I hadn't ridden any of the red trails this year - they're always pretty wet - but decided to give 'em a try. They were more damp than wet, which was good to see. I cooked through that trail pretty quickly and made my way over to the yellows. I was going to ride the teeter totter but someone broke it in half so I passed. I was feeling pretty decent and decided to climb up to the top of a trail that I typically skip but it has a really fun downhill so it was worth the effort. Someone was camping in their RV in one of the parking lots, probably wondering who the fool on the bike was riding by at 7:30 pm. At the halfway point, I thought I was a little behind on the light factor so I started weighing my options. I eventually realized I was feeling really well and riding the loop faster than I ever recall, so didn't ever pull the plug early.

Most of the time, it sounded like I was riding in the fall, rather than the spring, because their were a lot of fresh dead leaves on the trails. We've had a few late spring frosts, which caught some of the trees with their leaves out, damaging/killing the leaves. While I like riding through crunchy leaves because of the sound they make, I know this is probably not good for the trees.

The other thing that was really prevalent today were spider webs. Riding late in the day means the spiders are doing their thing, setting up shop for the night's feast. There are more than a few that are likely going to go hungry tonight, cursing the two wheeled bandit who disrespected their kitchen.

The climb out - or as much as you can see from the bottom.

I bombed through a few more down hills and cleaned things I typically am much more cautious about riding. It was a great ride and I felt really on, listening to a favorite KEXP podcast. I averaged 8.8mph up until the bottom of the climb out to the car, where I dropped .4 of a mile/hour. Even with the good climbing beat of this song, too little saddle time made for a pretty slow grind. This snails pace was an opportunity for the mosquitos to feast, much to my displeasure.

Back to the car just in time - the sky was pink, like the bellies of the feasting mosquitos.

A bit muddy, but not too bad for Bear Swamp.

All in all, a great couple of rides. It was good to ride with a friend, and also good to cook up some trails by myself.

Walls and training wheels

A while ago I posted about a girl I met and the affect of this experience. I began to allow myself to feel things I hadn't in a long time. Things I've sealed away behind stone walls. I am usually a grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side person but when it comes to situations where I've experienced deep wounds, and dragged others through those dark times, I have had a very difficult time coming around to see greener grass.

There have been times I've gotten caught up in the moment and stood along those walls with a chisel in hand, and started to chip away. The experience, for sure, is a rush - exciting, exhilarating - like ripping down a trail while in some alternate state zone, seeing only what you need to see while everything else blurs by in the periphery. But just like the wet root, off camber rock, or tree trunk that leans just a little too far into the trail to send me over the bars, that rush comes with risk. (I also tend to feel I write better and am more creative when in that zone, so I apologize for the less than thrilling posts as of late.) I usually choose to forego the risk and enjoy a tolerable, but predominantly mediocre, existence when it comes to these matters.

Somewhere along the line I've convinced myself that this existence is better for everyone involved. But is it? Who is this everyone? Some have said they worry about me, while others, the opposite. You always hear you'll know when the time is right. Is there some flashing sign? The last time I thought I knew but was so obviously wrong because I ignored what I so terribly didn't want to acknowledge. And in doing so, I jeopardized and strained more than anyone ever should, but have been so very fortunate in the trueness of friends and family who've seen me through more than I care to admit. This is the everyone, those who I don't want to do that to again. I've proven, I think, that I can make it through but probably not alone. However, that last sentence makes me realize I am in a mentality of setting myself up for failure from the start. Perhaps that is how one knows when one is ready. For, as Lance Armstrong's said, if you are afraid of falling off, you will never get on the bike.

As of late, I've been thinking my inability to establish anything beyond platonic relationships with women stems from my inept social skills, or that every one I meet is either married or in a serious committed relationship, or that I've been out of the game so long I don't even know where to start. While I believe all of these and other excuses I could come up with hold some validity, the larger issue is that I am afraid of falling off the bike. Weird realization for someone who evades the situation by getting on a bike. Maybe it is time to get out the training wheels again, or find a nice grassy hill where the falls won't be so bad. Small failures are opportunities to learn, right? What have I learned so far? Time to get on a bike and figure it out.

Tryin' to keep myself away from myself and me

Last time I rode, I found my shifter in disrepair upon returning to the car. Between this, and my inability to make/find the time to ride, I haven't been out on my bike in two weeks other than a few short commuting trips around town. While these rides are interesting at times - like when drivers pull out in front of you causing near misses and choice words - they are not the rejuvenating experiences I find on single track or even long road rides. I've recently been reading more about riding and came across this:

"Simply put, we ride because we love to ride. The act of riding is at once an elegantly simple and tremendously complex sensation: It is the culmination of hundreds of thoughts and emotions - escape, love of nature, exercise - and at times, the complete absence of thought and emotion, a singular focus that allows for no distraction and spares no mental or physical faculty."

This description by Mark Riedy and Joe Lindsey in The Noblest Invention sums up pretty well what riding means to me.

It is certainly my escape - from work, from my mind, from having to confront fears, from being social, from my life.

It is the place where I go to figure stuff out, even if it only makes sense for those few moments.

It is my time, when nothing else matters, the one place where I can go and not worry, and if I do, it is left behind, and only catches up when I choose to stop and let it.

It is my place of living on my edge, what ever that is at the moment, and however I choose to define it.

It is where I go to hit the reset button, to keep things in mental check.

This last bit is what is currently lacking in my state of affairs. I know this because I've recently been listening to Counting Crows' August and Everything After, a staple when I'm venturing to less than acceptable places. I know this also because one of my coworkers told me to make time for a bike ride this weekend. The closest I got was helping a friend evaluate what he needed to do to get his bike back on the trails. Good news is, not much appeared to be amiss other than some rim tape and clean chain. For now, I'll venture forward, trying to keep myself away from me.

Reacquainting with old friends

May, May, May. You must have taken a shortcut to get here so soon. Well, at least well before I thought you were going to arrive. I've always had trouble being in the moment and as of late, the moments are even more fleeting. And, oddly enough, my way of slowing down is to speed through the woods on a bike, winding between trees, over rocks and roots, and splashing through streams. Accompanying May's arrival were a few days of 70 and 80 degree temps and bright sunshine. Away we go!

Dusk setting in at Green Lakes

Friday after work I went for the first ride of the season at Green Lakes. The trails were very dry for this early in the season. Good for riding, bad for food production and the water table. A friend and I ground our way up the hill out of the parking lot and then meandered through the parks trail system to the lake. I am pretty sure we crossed a former road I've never paid attention to before but early season fatigue, yeah, that's what I'll call it, required a mid-climb rest. The things you see when you rest for a moment.

The inability for my brain to shut off brought an early rise Saturday morning. While I lament the pre-8am exit from bed, it did mean more trail time at Shindagin. I arrived to find the parking lot full and about a half dozen cars along the side of the road. I suited up and hit the yellow trails, exploring some new ones and briefly becoming disoriented. I eventually wound up at the red trails and cooked along the chair trail. I discovered an unmarked but obviously biker made trail that again took me into uncharted territory. Unlike a lot of other things, I decided to check it out. It wasn't the most exciting trail but I guess you never know until you ride it.

I rode along to some of the blue trails, and made my way to IMBA, my favorite downhill at Shindagin. As it was the first ride of the season, I tried to keep things in check but sometimes its hard to... I think I had a runner I met coming up the trail a little nervous. After this loop, where I saw what I imagine was a group from the Cornell Outing Club, I was gassed and didn't feel like eating the pizza I brought. So instead, I did what was probably one of the most foolish nutritional activities I could have - I ate two PopTarts and drank a 20 ounce Pepsi. Good for short sugar rush, bad for stomach and energy crash. The rush gave me about another hour of riding, the crash brought me to my guttural knees. Some day, both in riding and my daily activities, I will figure out how to eat, or at least practice what I already know better.

It was really great to get out for almost 30 miles of trails this weekend. I really miss riding at Shindagin, and while it is more fun to have a riding partner so you can take it up a little and not be worried that it is only you who can get you out, I kept things to a level where I was able to enjoy the trails. I kept rubber side down the whole day, and aside for a minor brush with a tree, all things were intact at the end of the ride. Well, everything except for the cover on my shifter. Not sure where that is or if I can get a new one, but I hope I don't have to buy a whole new set of shifters. This is becoming the year of the bike repair. The rebuilt pedals work great, though.