Longstrider

I am back

2009-12-22T09:58:00.000-08:00

After what seems like forever, I finally have time to do some writing again. Big things have happened in the last 10 or so months and more are on the way....life can be a strange bedfellow and love powers all.....

Up, Up and away....

First First Tracks

2009-01-26T15:05:00.001-08:00

For the first time in his life, Reed gets first tracks.

Oh the joy of it all. Nothing like new fallen snow.

dgh

Sweet......

I like

2009-01-19T12:07:00.000-08:00

I like Good Coffee. I know that good is a relative term, but there are certain criteria that must be met.

1. Coffee should not come out of can or jar. Especially a can or jar with the Term "flavor crystals" or any other crystals. Coffee was never in crystal form. This rule can be reevaluated if you are in Africa and you have not had a decent cup of coffee in two weeks.

2. The only thing that should be instant about coffee is when it comes out of an espresso maker.

3. Powdered creamer should never be used. Powder and cream are two terms that should never be mixed together. Nothing that is creamy should have the words powder associated with it unless it has to do with snow.

4. Coffee should not sit around waiting to served for more than 15 minutes before it is BAD.....old coffee is never good coffee.....

5. In wine making there is a phrase that goes something like this

You can't make good wine out of bad grapes. For coffee....the beans are the root of all things Good.

Thomas Edison once said, "Wine is how we know that God loves us."

Some would argue that you could say the same about dark roasted black beans .......

Anyway.......

The Truth Can Hurt

2009-01-15T08:39:00.000-08:00

"I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man's mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God."

Donald Miller

Love God not Religion.........

Anyway......on to other things to waste my time.

1-mile Solution Again

2009-01-14T19:15:00.000-08:00

In response to Kim........

Unfortunately that is the way it is in newer Cities. They were built around the car and using it as transportation. Still, can you take one or two trips a week and make them with the bike, feet, bus, etc.......Oh my Gosh I actually suggested that somebody could use the bus. I have to admit I have used the bus a couple of times hear in Fresno. It is interesting.

You are right. Convincing the general public to do this is very hard. Most people think it is crazy to ride a bike in Fresno. It is either too hot or too cold or too far or too something or other. The only place in town where it is different is the Tower and Fig Garden. The other day I saw a couple I would have never ever imagined riding bikes anywhere, all dressed up riding their bikes to the village to have dinner.....it was refreshing to say the least....

One or two trips a week? It can have a huge difference in a lot of things

Ride your bike....a lot. It changes your perspective on things. It is amazing how much better I feel at work when I go there by bike......different attitude, mindset, experience.

Anyway......Just ride your Bike....

Bikes Rule.....

One or two trips a week?

1-mile solution

2008-12-31T07:25:00.001-08:00

http://isocrates.us/bike/2008/12/the-1-mile-solution/

Its a great idea.......

Last Kenya Post and Book Recommendation

2008-12-12T07:32:00.000-08:00

Ok,

I just dug the majority of the text from my last blog post about the trip to Kenya off of my smashed computer. And remember, if a baggage handler ever makes you check your computer bag at the door of the plane, say no and clutch the bag with your dear life. So, with that in mind the last bit of the story will be up soon. However, since I have been back I have done nothing but get our new house ready to move in, so not sure when the post will be up.

Anyway, I wanted to say this.

Anybody who believes in Jesus, and especially those that do not, should read Joel Roseberg's Book Epicenter. This book is an eye opening look at the events happening now and predicted to happen in the Middle East in the future. I highly..... no strongly...... no sorry adamantly suggest that you read this book. If you are at all interested in World events, the end times, or the new wave of Christianity sweeping the world, you need to check it out.

http://www.joelrosenberg.com/

More pics----Story to come

2008-11-28T02:50:00.000-08:00

Dinning at Comos house
Girls of Kipkaren River

Driving into Eldoret

Typical Scene on the Road

Soren's shop - where the bridge came together

The Kenyan Crane - Who needs hydraulics

The welding went into the night

Major soil problems before lift off

Finaly up in the air

There were about 1,000 people on site to see the placement of the bridge.

Monday Tuesday

2008-11-25T23:37:00.000-08:00

The beginning of the second week. Monday the 24th of November 2008. The day started out slow. We woke late had a breakfast of boiled eggs and peanut butter sandwiches. Doug and I wanted to go over to the secondary school site and verify a couple of measurements to make sure we didn’t make any mistakes on the survey. Mark went with us and we walked down to the bridge site to see the road the Kenyans had been building. Then we headed up the hill and across a field to the bottom of the 20-acre parcel that David and the Church purchased. We took some bearings and verified some distances then Mark and I showed Doug where the Shoshone (sp?) river comes together with the Kipkaren River. The Shoshone drops a good 30-feet over the last 150 yards producing a series of small cascading water falls. After Doug took some pictures we then headed back to the Training Center ate some lunch and headed into to town to check the progress of the bridge fabrication and then do some shopping.

I can’t say enough how crazy driving in this country is. There are no traffic laws, and if there are they certainly don’t enforce them, no police and most drivers are either way too slow or way too fast. Motorcycles swerve in and out of traffic seeming to have a death wish. Our driver Meeshack lives on the way into town and stops often to pick up friends to give them “lifties.” We drive past his house and he honks as his wife waves from the side of the road. Mark rides shotgun and the rest of us sit on the benches in the back. The roads are a sea of humanity. People are everywhere, even way out in the middle of nowhere. Bikes, carts, tractors, you name it and it is on the road side. We make our way through Turbo, a small roadside town that houses a bunch of roadside shacks and stores. The way the Kenyan government gets people to slow down through the congested parts of the road is to put multiple speed bumps in the highway. Just imaging you are driving up Highway 41, you get to Coarsegold, and there is a bunch of speed bumps in the road. It is crazy. Cattle in the road, u-turns wherever and ill-advised passing are common occurrences on the way to Eldoret.

The City of Eldoret is a swarming mass of humanity. It seems that everybody is outside. There are major intersections with no stoplights or traffic control. Side streets are dirt or gravel and road grading is non-existent. It is wild being the only white people around. Everybody stares at you and looks you up and down. You hear Muzungo’s (white man) whispered from all around. We go into Tusky’s, a large Longs Drugs type department store. Two floors with groceries on the bottom floor and clothes and other miscellaneous stuff on the top floor. There must be 200 people working. On every aisle there a guy just standing there watching for shoplifters. Dress shirts cost about 200 shillings, or about two dollars and 50 cents apiece. The dollar goes a long way here.

Before we went shopping, we stop by Sorens to pick up Ben and my Dad and check out the bridge fabrication. Things are going well, and once inside you see how large the bridge actually is. It looks huge in the shop. Six by six tube steel frame, 95 feet long, and about six feet tall. Soren is going to transport the bridge in four 23-foot long sections. One section on the back of his flat bed truck with a crane and the other one on a trailer with the sides taken off. Soren was planning to leave Eldoret at 4:00 Tuesday morning to beat the traffic and hopefully the possible lorry (large trucks or big rig) inspections.

Apparently, they had some issues lifting the pieces with Soren’s crane and he could not completely lift each piece off the trailer and truck so they did not get going until 6:30. After three and a half hours, they got to the bridge site. However, with Soren not being able to lift each piece completely, things were going to get tricky getting each segment off the truck and trailer. Now, each section weighs in at over 4,000 pounds, so the plan was to use about 40 Kenyans to lift the first section up and set it on the four steel drums with wood blocks. This would allow us to pull the trailer out from under the sections and then use the crane to lower one half down at a time. Things went smooth with the first section and we set it down nice and easy. The next section was a little trickier. We set the steel drums and lifted each side onto the drums. We pulled the truck out, just squeezing the wheels past the drums. However, the drums in the back were a little crooked, as we were on uneven ground. We had to shift the weight in the front with the crane and when we did the rear section shifted and I swear was going to go down, but didn’t. The only was it stayed up was by the hand off God, cause it was the ugliest looking thing I had ever seen. We used the crane to set that end down and then lowered it into position. The Kenyans lifted it into its final position so the two pieces could be welded together. Remember, every time this thing had to be moved it involved about 30 to 40 Kenyan men lifting in unison and sliding it into position. It was impressive to watch the community come out to watch and help put this thing together. Young men came from all over the place to help lift these sections off the truck. David made an impassioned plea for everybody to come out early the next morning to repeat the exercise once again on the next two sections. The welders would also be there to melt this thing together. It was quite a day’s work.

Later that evening we were schedules to have dinner at Cosmas and Helen’s house. They live just on the other side of the road from the training center. They were married about 5 months ago and Cosmas would have loved for us all to be there, but since we couldn’t he had a small celebration for us. He planned to kill a goat, and since Chris was the guest of honor, he had the privilege of killing it. Apparently, there is a specific technique involved when it comes to killing the goat for a feast, but after Chris got back, he said it wasn’t really the case. But, anyway, I won’t go into the details. So, Cosmas and Helen rent a small place, and when I say small, I am not talking about 1,000 square feet or anything. I am talking about 300 square feet at best. Dinner quest included David and Alison, Julie, Mike and Debbie, Doug, Mark, Chris, Peter and myself. They literally had to move all the furniture out of the house to fit us all in for a meal. I have to say it was a very nice intimate time. The food was great, roasted goat, mashed potatoes, cabbage salad, goat stew, and flat bread (can’t remember what it is called). For dessert, orange slices and hot Chai tea with milk. Delicious.

David entertained us with stories of when he, Cosmas, and Peter were boys going through Moran training. Which is a right of passage for young men in this culture where they go out, sleep in the bush, are circumcised, and practice warfare techniques by raiding other camps. The training sends the boys into adulthood. The stories had us laughing and before long, it was off to bed.

The interesting thing about this place is you feel like you are stepping back in time, while at the same time, you get little glimpses into the modern world. Doug used this analogy; Living in the US we can see the future, here they are still in the past, we just need to connect the dots in between. It always makes me smile. We be out walking amongst the homesteads, mud huts with thatched roofs, cooking by wood fires of corn cobs, and then you look up and there is a woman coming out of the hut talking on a Nokia cell phone. Makes you double take every time.

The next two days will be the crux of the whole trip as the final pieces of the bridge will be put together and the big crane will come to lift it into place. Should be interesting.

Check back later to see how everything went. More pics to come......

Thanks
Tim

Pictures Finaly

2008-11-23T10:05:00.000-08:00

I borrowed this fancy card reader from Mike, so I can upload some shots...

Friday Saturday Sunday

2008-11-23T06:07:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day where we did not have to work on the bridge. We had a couple of things we would have liked to get accomplished but, if they were not done, no problem (hacuna mutate). We had a leisurely morning. Mark, Mike and my Dad were headed into town to work in the fabrication shop. My Dad was cutting the wood that will be used as the bridge deck, while Mike was to help Ben with the bridge fabrication. Doug, Chris and I were to hang back at the training center and try to survey the new secondary school site for the architect in Sacramento. We also wanted to take a walk down to the log bridge. The log bridge is just that, a bridge across the (I can't remember the name) river that flows into the Kipkaren River that consists of a 24-inch diameter log that goes 80-feet from bank to bank. Every year several people die trying to cross the bridge when the water is high. This year twin boys were swept off the log and were found dead a couple miles down river.

Before Doug and I set out on the 30 minute walk to take some measurements and think of some ways in which a safer bridge could be constructed, we went over to the Children’s home to distribute the 30 or so pairs of soccer cleats we brought from the US for the kids. We also had some toothbrushes and other supplies. When we arrived Mr. Bushmai (sp) had the all boys who like to play soccer lined up outside. We went in, arranged the cleats by size, and had a couple kids come in at a time to find a pair that fit. For the kids that could not find their size we had t-shirts. I wish you could have seen the looks on the boy’s faces when they put the shoes on. They where looking at the bottoms of the shoes standing there staring at their feet. Once we distributed them all, they sprinted out to get a ball and try out their new stuff. We had a lot of smaller sizes too that fit the girls. Every year the kids from Kipkaren play against the kids from Ilula, the other ELI children’s home down near Eldoret. This year the Kipkaren boys lost, but the girls were triumphant against Ilula.

After we finished Doug and I headed out to the log bridge. We started walking down the dirt road from the training center, past the school and around the bend. We headed off the main road and onto a smaller trail. There are children everywhere around hear. They come out of the bushes and wave to you, their big smiles lighting up the sky. We pass homestead after homestead on our way. This area of Kenya has endless land divided up into small farms and homesteads. Dirt paths and small roads connect them all. Car traffic off the main road is non-existent. Everybody either walks or rides a bike. The bikes hear are all 1950’s era English commuters, and they are everywhere. There must be millions of them all the same style. The Kenyans have personalized them to their own taste with colored tape, fenders, and mud flaps. In the cities, they have made them into bicycle taxis called Bodo Bodo. They put a decorated pad on the rack over the rear wheel and the passenger travels by just jumping on and holding tight. Some have music so the passenger can relax while swerving in and out of the crazy traffic in the city. For mast people, if they don’t have a bike, they walk. To get to the main towns like Eldoret, you would walk to the main road, and jump in a Mutatu (Moo ta too), a small mini van/taxi. These things are everywhere, and they cram as many people in them as they can. It is not uncommon to see 20 people crammed into a 10 passenger van.

Anyway, Doug and I turn off the main road, down a small dirt path with chickens wandering about. Then take a right onto a smaller trail and head down to the river where we come to the log bridge. The water is low right now, so the log sits about ten feet above the water. It is 12-inches wide on one end and about 24-inches wide on the other. Last year Mica ran a cable across to aid people in crossing, but people still do fall off once the water gets too high and makes the log slippery. We took some pictures, sketched out the site and came up with some ideas about how to construct a replacement that would be safer. As we are sitting there a father comes walking across with two kids, 18-months and 7 years old. He crosses the bridge with the baby on his shoulders a bag of maze in one hand with his seven year old in the other. That site would freak out most western mothers. Another woman comes loaded with a couple of baskets on her head, and she slowly makes her way across. You have to remember, none of the Kenyans know how to swim, so if they go in, the will surly drown.

We made our way back and get picked up by Nelson, who is just happening to be traveling with the crane operator from Eldoret. We needed him to come down to the site to asses the situation and identify the most appropriate location for the crane to lift the bridge into place. This is a critical aspect of the construction, if he says he can’t do it, we will be scrambling to find a solution. We walk over to the other side of the bridge and we locate where we would need to place the crane. The operator says it looks good and that it should not be a problem, but if the rains come, we would need a bulldozer to get the crane out of the river bottom. Therefore, we need to pray for good weather in order for this thing to happen.

We head back to the training center and take a badly needed nap, the days have been very hot and we are all starting to get very tired, so the break in the work has been very welcome. After the nap, Doug and I head over to the site where the community is going to build a secondary school. We spend a couple of hours surveying the site and head back to camp. I scheduled a Skype call with Tracy and the boys for 6:30, so we had a couple of hours and we walked over to the Medical Clinic. ELI originally build the clinic about six or seven years ago and has been expanding it ever since. The have an HIV/Aids testing and education center, maternity and post partum care, chemist (Pharmacy), and they just added an eye doctor. They whole thing is very primitive compared to western standards, but it is very good considering the only other medical care is in Eldoret. Which is an hour and twenty minutes by car, assuming you have access to a car. While we were there we were given a private tour by Oscar and she (Yes Oscar is a woman) showed us around and too us to their newest building, which houses the home care office and some other rooms. That is where we met, Baby Michele. About two months before we arrived on of the local mothers was having trouble delivering and she dyed on the way to the clinic. The nurses were able to save the baby and now the staff is caring her for, before she is adopted by one of the families at the Children’s Home. They family waited to take her to the clinic because they didn’t have insurance. Do you know who much health insurance cost in Kenya? Six dollars. We were speaking to David, the Bishop of the area, and he was pleading that something needs to be done, that people should not be dying over six dollars. She lived on the other side of the bridge and her family had carry her over the old bridge before the ambulance (a 1980’s Toyota Land Cruiser with some benches in the back) could pick her up. Once the new bridge is constructed, the Ambulance will be able to drive across the bridge.

We say thank you to Oscar and head back so I can make my Skype appointment with Tracy. It is amazing what technology can do. Here I was in the middle of the back roads of Kenya video calling with Tracy and kids over a satellite connection free. Skype is awesome.

That night it rained very hard. The wind blew and it came down in buckets.

Saturday we headed into town to see the Children’s Home in Ilula, and visit with John Rono and his family. John is a freshman civil engineering student and Moi University and came to visit the US back in June. He stayed for 6 weeks and got to see tons of things in California. He visited a bunch of engineering firms and stayed for two weeks at the International House at UC Berkeley.

It was great to see John and visit with his family. He took us out to Moi University and showed us where he goes to school. Getting out to Moi U was interesting. The road out there had to be, by far the worst road I, or any body else on the team have been on in our lives. It is so bad that you don’t even drive on the road, most people just drive on the shoulder. The University was very sad. That is the thing about Kenya, everybody complains about how corrupt the government is, and the public facilities are run down dumps. Jon lives in a brand new dorm, completed last year and the place looks like it has been around for 50 years and nobody has been taking care of it. We walked down the hall, the faucet in the bathroom is broken, and water is flooding the hall. The flooring is coming up and there are broken windows. The place looks like a refugee camp. This is one of the largest Universities in Kenya.

We head out and make our way back to Eldoret where we have a date to have dinner and Soren and Brigetta Peterson’s house. Soren and Brigetta are from Holland and have been in Kenya for over 13 years. Soren runs a fabrication shop and he builds churches and other facilities for missionary groups and the churches in Kenya. They are an amazing couple and have quite the story to tell about how they got to where they are and how their faith in the Lord has led them to where they are today. This is not your ordinary couple by any means. Over the course of a couple of hours, Soren laid out their story. It is hard to put into words the incredible things they have been through, life and death, fighting the political establishment and putting their faith in God so many times when the end seemed near. Listening to them was truly inspiring. In 2006 they build 187 churches in Kenya. They have four Children, the two oldest go to boarding school in Nairobi.

We made our way back to Kipkaren got a good night sleep and woke up late. We went to Church on Sunday. The three-hour service was filled with wonderful singing, powerful prayer, and a great message from Debbie. It was a little embarrassing when the Bishop asked the bridge team to come up and sing a song. We were all looking at each other trying to think up something we all knew. Finally, we got Alman to lead us in Our God Is an Awesome God. It was perfect, one verse, over and over again. After the song, we told them we were better builders (Fundi) than singers.

Now we wait for Monday to come. The bridge will hopefully be taken out to the site on Tuesday, the four sections welded together on Wednesday and put into place on Thursday (Thanksgiving day). The community is very excited and they are planning a big celebration. We continue to pray that all the pieces will fall into place.

Thanks for reading.

God Bless.

The first week

2008-11-20T21:47:00.000-08:00

Ok, where do I start.

Today was one of those days that makes you really think about who you are and what you are doing in this world. I know that what I saw today changed my perspective and will never leave my mind.

Last night on our flight from London to Nairobi Doug sat next to a woman named Helen who was returning from the UK. Her husband is a doctor and they have their fingers in all sorts of good stuff. They run a 24-hour a day medical clinic and a children’s school. But this is not just any ordinary school. This school is smack dab in the middle of one of the largest slums in Nairobi. Well, …. she invited us to come with her and see the work that her group has been doing.
To be honest, the thought of going into the slums scared the crap out of me. I have heard the stories of people going into the slums in Rio and never coming back. She shows up with a couple of her main counterparts, James and Davison. Then Ben, Doug, my Dad and I jump into their two late 80s Subaru wagons and head out into the streets of Nairobi.

First of all, riding as a passenger through the streets of Nairobi with a native is quite an experience. There are no laws, no lanes lines and the boundary between the oncoming lanes is just a suggestion. Passing on the left or the right is not a problem, and if you need to get out into a traffic circle, you just force your way. The taxis (mutatus) are these Toyota mini vans and they run them like busses picking up people along the way. There is a drive and a passenger handler, who leans out the window and tries to get you to jump in the cab as you walk by. Anyway…we jumped into the cars with Helen and head out. At first Doug told us that we were just going to go look at the clinic, but as we were going Helen mentioned that she was so excited, cause it had not been raining and we could go into the slums to see the school.

What? We ARE going into the slums? Ok, Lord I am trusting in you. We head down a major road in Nairobi and then turn and start down a small dirt one. There are people everywhere walking, riding bicycles, pushing carts and carrying babies. You glance over and there are two children no older than two sitting on the side of the road, there parents have to work, so they just leave them sitting there all day. Trash is everywhere and pools of stagnant water lay everywhere. We turn right and head into what is no wider than an alley, with street vendors lining both sides selling dried corn, shoes, produce. The vendors operate out of cardboard or corrugated metal building. All eyes are on us as we make our way up the road. First of all it can not even be called a road.
You see…… Helen and her Husband got four wheel drives in order to even be able to carry supplies back in. If the rains had come we would have been walking and as it was, we had to navigate huge mud holes, and deep ruts, while getting help form the hordes of people, chickens and kids walking next to us and past the car. We got stuck once and about 5 guys were shouting instructions to Helen as she tried to get us out of the hole. We pass a little shack where the entire community gets water from a small ½ inch pvc pipe coming up from who knows where. There approximately 300,000 people living in this slum. Think about that, two thirds of the population of Fresno living in tin shacks. Plus, this isn’t even the biggest slum in the City. The biggest one has over 1 million people. There have complete communities, with churches, small markets, and even hair salons. It was wild to look into a little store front made out of old cardboard and tin boxes, and see a young girl getting her hair straightened in a one chair salon.

We come to a place where we cant get passed a big mud hole and have to walk. I wanted so bad to take some photos, but I was afraid of taking out my camera. We walked a couple of hundred yards down a small side road and arrive at the Children’s school. There are 6 or 7 classrooms, all with small carved wood desks and little black boards. They teach about 250 kids at the school and they also feed them porridge everyday, since for most, that will be the only meal they eat all day. Helen also brings here clinic staff to treat the kids and give them shoots to get rid of worms and other parasites. An eye opening experience for sure. You hear people say that it makes you realize how lucky we are. That statement could not be closer to the truth.

After we left the slums we went to the site where Helen and her group are building a new school
for the children that will be located outside the slums, so the kids will have a better environment in which to study. She is a very bold and ambitious woman. She treated us to a very nice lunch at her house, and her three daughters cooked the meal. There is a young engineer Ben that came along on the trip, and one of Helen’s daughters was quite taken by him. She leaned over and said to him, “You are very handsome.” Ben was totally taken back and did not know what to say. It was pretty funny and so Doug started negotiating the marriage. 20 cows was the price for him to come home with a nice Kenyan bride….

I showed Helen a picture of Finn and Reed and told her how much we miss each other. She laughed and said in a cheerful happy voice, ”Of course, but you must do the work the Lord, and they are doing there part as well by supporting you in this effort.” They gave us the most wonderful meal of rice, cabbage salad, potatoes, and Kenyan chicken. Chicken from Kenya is very different from the chickens we have in the states. They are free range, and when I say that, I am not talking about being raised in an open-air coop, these guys are super tough lean muscled birds. There are no two pound chicken breast here.

We finished our lunch and Helen drove us to the airport, where we hooked up with Chris and Mark. Then we caught a flight to Eldoret, where Meshack from the ELI training center picked us up at the airport. Apparently, they thought our flight arrived at 2:00. We started driving and headed into Eldoret. There are people walking and riding bikes all over the place, the driving is just as crazy here as it is in Nairobi. Except here, it has a more primitive feel, and everything is a little wilder. It is truly amazing driving through these Cities. There are people roasting corn on the side of the road in little metal grills that look like they are made from hubcaps.

We head south and hit a dirt road that takes us to the ELI training center. The six kilometers seemed like a lot longer. The roads are super rough and bumpy stuff fit for a heavy duty four wheel drive, but we were taking them in a Toyota van. We turn the corner and finally reach the training center where a group of about 200 people were waiting to welcome us. We step out of the van and they begin singing the most beautiful song. It totally sent chills down my spine and I was completely humbled and blown away by the how wonderful it was. The community has been looking forward to this bridge for so long, as the temporary bridge is getting worse and worse by the day.

We had a nice dinner with the group that runs the training center. David and his wife Allison, Julie, and Peter then headed to bed. I woke up at 5:30 and went outside to take a look at the River for the first time. A frothing brown picture of motion. Across the river are some mud huts with thatched roofs, which are very typical of this area. We ate breakfast and headed down to the bridge site to take a look, measure some stuff out and get things going. It is quite a picturesque scene. A small dirt path leads down a steep slope to the old bridge. Green fields and hills surround the site. Villagers come out of nowhere to take a look at what is going on. Ten to fifteen men were already assembled to get the work started. We receive a blessing from a local pastor in Swahili and got underway.

The days task involved surveying and staking off the locations of the large footing on the sandy side of the river, drilling the anchor bolt holes for the rocky side and excavating the hole where the bridge abutment is going to be poured and then pouring the keyway. The keyway is a two-foot wide anchor piece of concrete that will be help the bridge resist lateral movement. With the Kenyans doing all the heavy lifting and digging, we made super fast progress. There were definitely leaders among the Kenyans. Mica, a very soft-spoken 35 year old business man, seemed to be allocating the tasks and making decisions. He manages a bread distribution service around Eldoret. In his quite gentle way he led the others and came up with practical ways for the team to do certain things. The Kenyans definitely do things differently. At any one point in the day there would be up to 30 guys standing around taking turns with the shovels, carrying wheel borrows full of concrete or shoveling sand, gravel or cement into the gasoline powered mixer. They were amazing workers and most of the time we found ourselves watching and supervising the job, making sure the rebar was placed right and keeping the concrete mix the right consistency. The Kenyans worked so fast that we completed two days work in the first day and found ourselves ahead of schedule.

The next day we set out to pour the 4-foot tall 3-foot wide foundation block in which the bridge structure is to sit on. The Kenyans constructed the formwork in their typical Kenyan ways, by piecing together timbers and using anything they could to get the job done. They are amazingly resourceful and while it may not look neat and tidy, it is beautiful how the structure came together. It took all day to pour the main section of the abutment, and as dusk was beginning to set, Mica smoothed out the top section and we made plans for the next day.

Doug, Mark, my Dad, and I decided to take the short walk back to the training center instead of the bumpy car ride. While we were walking a group of children followed wanting us to take their pictures and Doug ran after them and tickled them as they laughed hysterically. The children here are amazingly beautiful creations. They will come wandering down to the bridge site, some not much older than a year old, and sit and watch. They sill stare at you wondering what these crazy white men (mazungus) are doing. You give them a little smile and their little faces light up as they shyly turn away. They love to see their pictures in the camera. The can’t wait to look and laugh at themselves and their friends in the photos. You can’t help but want to take them home with you.

It is amazing to think that less than a year ago this whole region was ravage by violence. The ELI clinic has an ambulance that is used to transport people to the clinic or just to drive people to and fro. Julie, one of the missionaries here was telling us how valuable it was during the unrest. As we were talking about it, she softly mentioned how horrible it was. The area where we are staying was the center of a lot of the unrest.

As we walked back, we take a short detour through the children’s school grounds and into the children’s home. There are over 100 children living here in groups of 12 boys and 12 girls with a parent group. The system is quite interesting. We wonder into the cluster of houses as a loud bell rings letting the kids know that it is time for the daily devotions. All the kids come running with their little Bibles in hand and a couple of them offer up their hands and take us inside. There sweet little voices say come, please sit. All 100 kids squeezing into the little room as they begin singing. All the kids are AIDS orphans. They are truly beautiful. One of the older girls leads the singing. She has an amazing voice and the others follow her lead as they sing praises to God. The singing goes on for several minutes and then they begin taking turns reciting Bible verses. It was a fantastic experience to be there listening. Tiny little boys dancing and young babies sitting in older siblings laps singing. As the kids were singing a small little boy, had to be less than two comes toddling up to me and wants to sit up in my lap. I grab him and he sits down and keeps watching all the others singing and dancing. I was touched to watch these children that would be on the streets have such a wonderful home. After devotions were over the children all want to say hello shake our hands and show us where they live. As we leave, Doug is talking about the children and their singing and he says, ”That my friends, is just like heaven.” They are all truly beautiful.

It has been amazing to see how the Lord has been working during this trip. Sometimes he is subtle and sometimes he likes to beat you over the head. To the point where there is no way for you to ignore it. On Wednesday morning Chris and I were sitting out in the Gazebo watching the river reading and he turns to me and says, “hey if your going to do the devotional this morning how about using this passage for 1 Peter.” You see, someone from the team will present a reading from the Bible and we will discuss it and we will all reflect and pray. That morning we went into breakfast and my Dad was all ready to do the devotional. Well, he read the same verse that Chris and I had talked about. Chris and I just looked at each other and laughed. It was amazing, and made me realize again, even though I should never be surprised, how real God is and how he provides for us when we need it. Another example is something that happened Thursday morning.

Last night we went into Eldoret to meet with Soren, the engineer who is fabricating the bridge, and have dinner at the Eldo Grill. I have to say that was an experience. The menu is Italian, Indian, and American fare, complete with lots of interesting spellings of English words. Sort of like this blog (isn’t that right Tracy). It was the first time we able to talk with Ben since the first night in Kipkarren. You see, what Ben and Soren are doing is the crux of the whole project. They are cutting and welding the steel together to create the structure of the bridge. They are the critical path for this project.

Well, Ben was talking about the difficulties of the fabrication and how it was hard to watch each of the workers to ensure that everything is done to specifications. It is critical, because the pieces have to fit together right or the bridge will not work. Kind of like building a puzzle by creating the pieces from scratch and then hoping that they all fit together. You could tell Ben was frustrated, he even said as much. The going was slow, and their schedule was pushing the time to completion right up to the day before we leave. We needed another set of eyes to ensure quality control. Well, we get back to Kipkarren and the next morning at breakfast there is a couple, Mike and Debbie, from Pasadena that are here on a prayer mission. We get to talking and if turns out he is an Engineer who has specialized in steel fabrication for over 30 years. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!!! Their trip to Kenya had been delayed twice before, and this time they made it. He was more than excited to help with the bridge project, and agreed to go into Eldoret to help Ben with the fabrication. It was unbelievable. God has been showing himself to us in so many ways on this trip. Those are just a couple of examples of his grace and provision.

Today we finished forming the second abutment and poured the concrete. The Kenyans worked very hard and they even began back filling where the road will be with rocks. You see, the deck of the new bridge will be much higher and there is a considerable hole that needs to be filled. The pour of the abutment was tenuous and we thought for a while that the forms may fail, which would be a catastrophe, but they held and the concrete is setting nicely. Tomorrow we are going to go to look at the log bridge, where many people have dyed trying to cross. Doug would like to construct something there that would be safer to cross.

That is my report for now. Keep praying and I thank you all for reading. Hopefully, I will be able to post more frequently know, as they have fixed the problems they are having with the network here. Sorry for now photos....the computers are fighting against us here.

God bless you all.

Heading to Africa

2008-11-15T21:55:00.000-08:00

After 30 plus hours of travel we arrived in Nairobi around 11 at night. The humid air offered quite the contrast to cold windy weather we experienced on the tarmac at Heathrow. Stepping into Nairobi International was like stepping back into the 1970s. Blue ratty carpet and funky colors. It is easy to see that we are now in Africa. We hooked up with our Driver Samuel who took us to the Mayfield House, home of African Inland Missions.

The first thing you notice once you jump in a car in Nairobi is that the roads here are very interesting, if not downright bad. I guess they have a policy here that once things are` paved that should do it for life. Huge potholes abound and places were a new road meets an older one have three to four inch drops in pavement. Travel on the main roads here involves accelerating up to 40 of 50 and then slowing down to 10-15 mph to navigate through a maze of road obstacles. If there is a construction project, traffic just shoots over to the oncoming road across the dirt or mud or whatever. All the houses are compounds with Barbed wire and fences with guards posted at the doors. We drive from Jomo International Airport on the Mombassa Road and head into town. It is 111:45 know and there are lots of young male Kenyans just hanging out on the street.
After we were woken up at 3:30 by the local rooster we set about figuring what the next step would be. Team meeting at 9:00 so we are prepared to hit the ground running with the construction once we get out to Kipkarren. Just a short plane ride and then an hour drive to get there…more to come later.

Peace.....

Sunday.......

2008-10-30T08:32:00.000-07:00

I have been feeling sick and fighting to stay afloat with the house, work, and getting ready to go to Kenya (more on that later), so I wasn’t really thinking I would do the cross race last Sunday out at Woodward Park. In fact I was very close to just saying forget cross and selling my cross bike to remove the distraction. Well, anybody that knows me would understand that as soon as I was out there it was no turning back and I pinned a number on and went for it.

60 minutes of pure pain, suffering, dust, and mud holes of glorious goodness. It was fun and definitely recharged my batteries. It was great for me but the really cool thing was that Tracy got out there and lined up.

It was a big deal considering that it was pretty darn close to a year to the day that she walked for the first time after her accident. She looked great out there. I could tell she was nervous. I knew what a big deal it was to line up for the first time after the last year and a half of recovering, but I just kicked her in the butt and said go warm up….

Don’t know if all ya’ll know about cross racing but it is very demanding on the body. Ride as hard as you can on dirt, gravel, over loose sand and dust, through mud holes and then run up steep hills carrying your bike. Then you have to jump off and carry your bike over 18-inch tall barriers, then navigate sharp off camber turns and tricky, twisting descents with your heart rate pegged at threshold. Super hard physically and mentally. You either love it or hate it. So with that in mind, this was a good test of Tracy’s body, and she passed. Of course she was sore and tired, but her body and, more importantly, her hip handled it very well.

By the way did I mention that she won the women’s race? Stud. So there is another one this weekend and we will be out there again. So, if you get the inkling, come check it out.

Details at http://www.homegrowncross.com/

Later

Crazy Kids

2008-10-29T21:15:00.001-07:00

Reed put those glasses back!!!!!

Doping

2008-10-29T18:55:00.000-07:00

Ok,

So, to answer that question. I don't think every cyclist that wins a pro race is a doper, but when there are surprising amazing feats of strength out of somebody that usually or historically hasn't been that strong, then you have to wonder. That was the case with Ricco, and Schumacher, and to a certain extent Kohl.....

Back in the 90s that wasn't the case because everybody was doping, but now it is not that case. I have to truly believe that the sport is way cleaner now than in the past. I need to believe that, because I love this sport and have been following it for over 20 plus years. It is the only thing I follow closely.

The anti-doping advocates are out there. Pros are pissed that people keep screwing things up for everybody else. Now every time a positive comes in, a sponsor leaves or coverage gets pulled. That is not good for anybody, and not good for signing contracts. Anyway.....refining by fire, you burn away the crap to get back to the true metal, the Gold....

Schumacher

2008-10-07T10:09:00.000-07:00

Once Again.....

If it sounds too good to be true. It probably is..........

Hum....

2008-09-20T17:56:00.000-07:00

Interesting.....
and Very Nice.....

Barf

2008-09-12T12:38:00.000-07:00

So, Lance is coming back.

Barf, hack, wretch...

That is the sound of me losing my lunch.

Just when things were getting good. Now we get to hear a whole bunch about him and not enough about all the other great, up and coming riders. Now I will have to answer a million questions about Lanc's comeback at work. Yeah, Excitement.

I think I just saw Levi jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.

Nice

2008-09-03T12:45:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I got out of bed at 4:30, and threw on my kit to meet Beers and a bunch of other dudes at his house to roll for 3 to 4 hours. I needed to drop a check off for the contractor so I decided to leave early and head over to his house and then turn east and make my way to Mike’s.

If I leave by 5:15 I would have plenty of time, but when I grabbed my bike….I had a flat. Now I was pushin it. Rolled out of the drive way at 5:25. Need to motor to make it. So much for a nice easy spinning warm up. Dark....Can’t really see, but blast forward.

I am rolling, cruzing the City streets. My shadow chasing and passing me, as I move under each streetlight. I remember when I was a kid when me and my partners in crime would head out at night on our bikes. I remember back then the same shadow, chasing me and then catching me. The shadow has changed over the years, but the same yellow streetlight illuminates the way. Baggy pants and ball cap, traded for spandex and Styrofoam lid. The feeling is still the same. So many great memories of warm summer nights, riding the bike. We were not necessarily looking for trouble, but occasionally we would find it.

Riding through the neighborhoods and residential streets, swapping leads with my shadow. I hit Bullard and Cedar and roll into the field north of State U. Lights are gone now and so is my shadow. Just me and the silhouette of the Sierra out in front. The turquoises blue of the early morning dawn the only light. Can’t really see the road, but I know its there. Nothing to get in the way. Rhythmic breathing and the turning of pedals. I love that feeling. Out on the bike before dawn, riding into a new day. Heading up into the hills, finally the sun hits you and the cold vanishes into a void of early day warmth. No cars……just breathing and the rhythm of the pedals turning. Black stretch of road just keeps on coming. Undulating, curving, rolling past the signs of other peoples lives. Lost in the midst of the moment. Oak trees and filtered sun are the only companions of the road. The road just keeps on going, until you make that turn into the driveway and you start dreaming of the next meeting with your shadow. The next time the wheels touch the road…..and it is nothing but breathing and turning.

Later

Uggh

2008-08-07T10:47:00.000-07:00

Ughhh,

What a pisser. Sometimes, life deals you a little smack down, a little backhand action.

The Games We Play

2008-08-05T21:07:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally have some time to write something down. Why? Cause I am waiting at the airport. Another one of those trips where I spent a 14 hour day for a one hour meeting. Well this time it was two meetings, actually one meeting with some pissed off developers and a presentation to the Big Gorilla.

Actually, the developers weren’t pissed until they heard what we had to say. It’s a long story, but I will try to tell the short version. You see, I am an infrastructure planner, developers love my stories, or they hate them. Good news, or bad, but never in-between. Yes or no, never maybe. Engineers like definite answers, no room for shades of grey. Yet, there is always grey. That’s what makes a good planner, being able to ferret out the important black and white and massage the grey to make it work. What are the hot buttons, who are the people involved, it’s a game, just like any. Deliver the message the right way so the right people like it, while still making sure the engineering is sound.

Anyway, we have this client, a Big Gorilla down in the jungle. They are in a tough spot as they need to make some improvements, and they have needed to do them for a while. Well, the projects only cost about 120 million bucks. They can’t bring in development unless they make the improvements, and they can’t construct the improvements unless they get some money from developers.

Anyway, these two guys, they got 50 acres, right, a mere speck in the Big Gorilla’s forest. Well, they want to build some houses. Can’t do that unless you got some place for the crap to go, right? Well, anyway, the Big Gorilla has been telling them, “sure you can connect, all you need to do is pay Joe Engineers to do this study, right.” Except the Gorilla already knows the answer, No capacity…….So they show up at the meeting where we tell them, “Sorry mates, no capacity”. The dude looks at us and calls the whole thing a set up, and starts spouting about litigation and lawyers and all that good finger pointing stuff. We say, hey man were just the messenger, but actually they weren’t pissed at us, just the fact that they have millions of dollars on the line and yet, they have to jump through another hoop.

We felt like some chumps…..you see….the Gig Gorilla needs money, and Joe developers got some (at least right now) and Joe developers, they really want this project to happen, right. So the Big Gorilla uses us to leverage Joe developer and squeeze some lunch money out of them. Except, these Joes are not going to back down, there like that scrawny kid who fights back, kickin and scratching, held up by his shirt collar as his feet swing two feet off the ground.

We got played as the middle man, and Joe was pissed, F-bombs dropping like its going out of style…….poor schmucks. You can tell they are under the gun. Looking at losing it all, the thing is, Big Gorilla needs them, or needs their money, but Big Gorilla needs them to sweat a little so they may agree to kickin down a little more than they would otherwise.

Playin with people like that ain’t right, but we had to keep our mouths shut, cause, you never know when that BIG contract could be right around the corner, and self preservation is the name of the game in Jungle. Big Gorilla dishing out bananas to those that scratch his back.

It’s a sick game.

Freakin Dopers

2008-07-17T08:25:00.001-07:00

The Cobra, just like his idol, the Pirate.....goes down in flames. I feel sorry for the kid, led astray by his own ambitions. Now, likely jail time, a 100k euro fine and possibly the end of his career.

Maybe his nick name came from the needle marks in his arms. Cobra bites.

Demo, Dust and Respirators

2008-07-09T05:29:00.000-07:00

I spent the 3-day weekend ripping out the majority of my new old house. Using sledge hammers, pry bars......saws all, now there is a tool. Need to take down a wall, just cut the sucker in half.

Before

After

Anyway...we filled a dumpster to the top and ordered another one. Hope we can fit everything in the second one.

All I can say is that the carpet in the hall.....Nasty.....!
It is amazing how much different a place can look once you rip half the stuff out.

I can see it......

Carpets

2008-07-02T06:26:00.000-07:00

Who ever heard of Carpet in a bathroom. Especially around the toilet. The whole place smells like pee. Yesterday a crowd of about 10 contractors descended upon the new place. Ideas were flowing like mad and all I could think about was, 'how in the hell am I going to pay for all of this".

Problems one never even think about come up, and must be fixed. I realized years ago that remodeling projects can go down two separate paths. The right way or the cheap and easy was. Sometimes the cheap and easy way works, but for big projects, they need to be done right.

That only means one thing.

$$

and lots of it..........

Check out the built in sound system

Ping Pong Balls

2008-06-27T06:24:00.000-07:00

I have so many ideas bouncing around in my head. I wish I could take some time to sit down and write them all out, explore where the thoughts take me and run with it. Ping Pong Balls bouncing around in the mind.

But, alas......time, I have found is more precious than gold these days. I sit on my bike, peddles turning and bang....Ideas. But moments are hard to come by.

I just bought a house. 1952, original owners. They are 96 and 92, and needless to say it needs some work. I have been consumed with appointments with contractors, real estate agents, and others. Here is a shot of one of the three completely outdated bathrooms. Complete with pink and black tile and carpet. Makes the skin crawl, but the house is big enough for us, has really good bones and we got it far a steal. I mean a steal......

Soon I will scribble out something interesting to me at least.

Cinco-De-Mayo

2008-05-30T06:19:00.000-07:00

The light from my headlamp illuminates the numbers on my watch. 12:15 am Saturday morning. The darkness is striking, no moon, no stars, the crowns of the trees enclose any light. I look ahead and see the elliptical torch beams of the two headlamps ahead of me. Pole, pole and slide, the only sound is the familiar high pitch zip of the skins sliding forward on dirty snow. Hip flexors are really hurting now, especially on the right side as we skirt the west slope and slide around to the Silliman Creek drainage and up to camp. I stop and lean on the end of my poles, tired and aching.

This trek began at seven p.m. with seven blokes, 35 minutes of walking led us to the snow where we donned our skins and began the march. Smiling faces, fresh legs and loads of food as we headed out from Lodgepole.

I was initially thinking a few hours. A few turned into six and we arrived at the open area below the west slope leading up to Silliman Lake after 1:15 am. It was not a minute to soon as backs ached and feet hurt. The last hour involved taking off the skis numerous times and hiking over pare patches, over rocks and up snow slopes to steep to skin. Each time taking off my skis involved the full effort of bending over and undoing the bindings, reaching back and flicking the cable off the back of my boot. Stand up breathing heavy. Why was I doing this to myself? Why did we embark on this death march?

We are farmers in the field, seeking the perfect crop.

Cinco-de-mayo weekend has come to be known as a time for reaping the harvest. The Sierra Nevada Mountain range produces a special crop of delicious fruit. Succulent nectar of the Gods waiting to be harvested by those willing to work to attain the place where the seeds take hold. The bounty finds refuge high up in the north facing bowls of the high Sierra where it grows all winter condensing and firming in the warm late winter and early spring sun.

The fruit we seek is shinny white alpine corn. So good it makes the heart leap with the anticipation of every bite into its carve-able meat. You can't eat this wonderful goodness, but Man and Woman have been know to feast on its pleasure until their leg muscles ache and their hearts burst with joy.

You see, the Sierra produces a special type of snow. Corn Snow, that is so tasty and carvable it is literally impossible to make bad turns. Winter snows condense to a firm base that freezes to a hard pack at night. The top layers are melted during the day by the warm spring sun and then refreeze at night. The freeze thaw action produces hard little pellets of ice that are held together by a layer of water. Surface tension provides the magic glue.

When harvested at just the right time this corn yields two to five inches of pure shread-able bliss. But you have to hit it right in the mid to late morning because if you wait to long or pick to early you either get a thick slushy mess or hard pack ice that will chatter the teeth. Mid to late morning is the best pickins depending on slope exposure and cloud cover.

But reaping this harvest is not easy and one must grunt and slog endless hours to reach the corn camp. The north bowl of Mount Silliman awaited us. Visions of smooth corn snow, and arching turns filter through the mind. Lead with the pole plant and transition to the next edge. The mechanics go through the mind and I envision the perfect fall line.

We reached camp at 1:30 am Saturday morning. Tired, dig out a flat spot, lay down the sleeping pad and float off into space. Wake up at dawn with a fresh layer of frost coating my bivy and gear. 22 degrees, not too cold. The others lounge in bed until 8 when the sun hits our camp, but I was to interested in where we were as we crawled in here in complete darkness.

Silliman creek cascades down snow covered granite slabs. The water slides down the face onto a ledge and then disappears, only to reappear 50 feet to left. The water flows down more exposed rock and then vanishes under the snow and meanders invisible to the eye through the snow covered meadow.
Shear granite monolithic faces of rock shoot up above us as the ridge line on both sides of our camp extend to the sky. These are only minor ridge lines climbing up to Silliman proper. These smaller formations elude to the majesty that climbs two thousand feet above us and around the corner.

It get itchy waiting around for the others to rise and get ready, thinking of what lay ahead in today's adventure. Couple of cups of French Roast and some breakfast and before you know it I am ready to roll.

The objective is the north bowl just west of Mt. Silliman. We climb over a small ridge and onto northwest facing slopes and climb up towards the tree line. As we travel the views open to panoramic vistas and huge open bowls of hard packed spring snow. After one and a half hours of climbing we crest a ridge and look across to the shear west face of Silliman. Orange patina cover exposed granite as Silliman rises before us. The peak sloping off gently to the south as the ridge gives way to a small shoot on the ridge line a few hundred feet down from the summit.

That looks like a good place to ski! We take a short break and wait for the others to reach our vantage point. Once together we traverse a steep slope and climb up to the bottom of the little notch. We take off our skis and begin to kick steps into the hard pack and ascend into the cleft. The snow is firm, but in no time will give way to fantastic corn skiing. We reach the steeper upper shoot and finding solid footing is becoming difficult. Beers and Hog traverse under a band of small rocks. I am thinking this is getting a little dicy, but to fall here would just mean a long slide with the work to gain this height wasted.

Hog looks a little sketched and says, "man this is getting a little sketchy."

Beers shrugs him off and says, "Come on, its cool."

Just then Beers slips and loses a ski. He grabs onto the melt edge just below the rock and rolls onto his back to catch his other one before it too starts heading down the mountain. Luckily Hern Dog is traversing just below and grabs the ski just as it starts to pick up speed. I hold back my laughter as Beers rolls back over onto his feet, down climbs the 15 feet and begins back up again. A few minutes later we reach the top of the notch.
From this vantage point we can see down into the south western basin below Silliman containing Silliman Lake. Over the next ridge is the Tablelands, Skiers Alta, and Tokapah falls and the Marble Fork of the Kaweah River. More importantly the only way to go from here on snow is down. Excitement builds as we prepare to descend. After Friday night's trudge and the two hours to climb here we finally get to take the skins off and drop it. The shoot is tight for about three turns then opens up and rolls into the steeper pitch before fully opening up to a larger bowl that continues down to the Little Lakes Basin.

Beers is the first to drop in, cuts two turns then disappears over the edge. All I hear is hooping and hollering from the boys below as he carves one turn after another. Finally he appears again on the lower slopes below. After waiting patiently for Hog, it is Slater's turn. He is relatively new to tele skiing coming from a snowboard background.
Slater realizes he needs to switch his binding into a stiffer position. Those hammerhead bindings have all sorts of doohickeys and bells and whistles. I remember when bindings were a metal plate with a wire around the back and a couple of springs, with small little pieces of steel holding the toe in place. Remember those Black Diamond bindings. Before that we had three pins. Remember those? It always amazes me that these big plastic boots still have the pinholes in the toe. Leather boots and skinny skis, remember those? EC 90’s baby….ripping. Well, Slater had to get out his tool to move the adjustment, and I couldn’t wait for that so I dropped in.

One of the moments I like the most about skiing, but backcountry skiing more so, is those few seconds before gravity takes hold and friction is minimized. Standing on the top, poles strapped to your wrist, cast your eyes to the horizon and look at all the surrounding peaks. Standing in harmony with the place. Breathe deep, focus on the movements and hope that muscle memory takes hold and the subconscious mind controls all motion. Confidence must take control, any doubt and you blow the first turn. Flow, rhythm, speed, pattern, and power.

Drop in and I gain the fall line, plant the pole and bust into the first turn. One after another the subconscious motion takes control. Steep at first, bang…. bang…. bang…. and as the slope mellows the skis gain speed and then your railing it down the fall line. The body is a pure harmony of technology, nature, and dynamics. The complex algorithms of muscle movement and physics come to a crescendo and time slows as potential energy is used at a rapid pace. Silence as complete focus takes over, then the world comes back to you and you’re at the bottom and sound is again apparent. Look up and see where you came from, what took so long to get up once again is above you in a few moments of harmonic bliss.

We regroup and look down at the Little Lakes basin below. A natural half pipe of snow drains the upper bowl and looks like a playground for the off piste enthusiast. Time for big arcs and high speed turns up the side of the gully. The roller coaster ride takes us down to the lake. One snow-less large rock is our lunch spot. The sun reflects from all sides and the solar radiation warm us to the core.

Resting is great, but I can’t wait to begin ascending again as the upper ridge awaits us. A triangular shaped snowfield extending up to an unnamed 10,900-foot peak. After skiing as far as we could go we begin kicking steps just east of the exposed ridge line. Footing is fairly easy and we plod up to lofty heights. Higher and higher we ascend, Hog Man in tow with Hern Dog behind him. Beers decides to climb the ridge proper.

I get within 50 feet of the summit and begin busting through to my lower thigh. I have visions of busting through and sliding with a huge slab of snow 800 feet to the bottom of the bowl. I know those fears were unfounded, but I promised Tracy I wasn’t going to do anything stupid so I listened to my intuition and stopped here. Beers pressed on and made it to the top. From this angle I should be able to get some good shots.

A patch cloud cover had moved in and the sun peeked through illuminating the orange west face of Silliman. Beers traversed into the fall line and dropped in. This late in the day the snow was thick and it made skiing this steep face seem like eight inches of heavy sierra powder. Beers threw up globs of snow as he powered down the face.

It was about an eight hundred foot shot to the bottom and before you knew it he was down. Hog dropped in next a few yards below me. Then I was the only one left. I traversed out and stopped for a second. After working so hard to get here I wanted to make the best of this run. A confident first turn let to several more and I was in the flow. The muscles remember the motion and with each little pole plant and hop I was closer to the bottom. I carved the last turn arched over to the others and stopped. Now one said anything, just smiled.

We traversed over the ridge and began to make our way back down to camp. It was about two seventeen hundred vertical feet back down and we ripped high speed turns and shot through little gaps in rocky out crops. Wide open snow fields dropped us back under the tree line and we carved turns through the trees back to camp.

I was tired when we got back. Changed out of sweaty socks and shell pants and into my camp clothes. We were luck enough to have a bare patch of dirt next to our cooking rock and we built a fire. What a pleasure that was to have the fire while we sat and relived the day. I soon found out why the others packs were so heavy on the way in as the crew produced beer after beer from the hidden spaces of their Cordura. Since it was Cinco-De-Mayo weekend we made some fat burritos and T-Brown whipped up a killer avocado salsa with jalepenos. After I put three big daddies away the night grew dark and the fire cast a red glow on our faces. Caser began telling the worst possible jokes anyone could have ever heard and I knew it was time to hit it, and nestle into the 550 fill. I looked at my watch, 8:55 p.m.

The body was tired the next morning. I woke at dawn and looked to see that it was 22 degrees. Not too cold, but a heavy layer of frost coated my gear and bivy sack. We woke up and brewed some strong coffee, and made breakfast. We were going to try and access the top of Silliman from the west side, but after we made the long 2,000 foot climb up past Silliman lake we saw that the south slope leading up to the peak was dry. It didn’t really matter since there was plenty of good snow in the upper bowls to ski and from above Silliman Lake the run back to camp would be really good.

Above Silliman Lake the terrain was amazing. Orange granite with black water streaks circle the bottom of the alpine bowl. Tiny emerald blue, snow feed lakes sit calmly at the bottom constantly being fed by the relentless trickle of melting snow. Blue ice cascaded down the north bowl and flowed into Silliman Lake.

Near the summit ridge of Silliman a stand of wind blown Lodgepoles stood like sentinels guarding access to the top. At eleven thousand feet high on a Sierra peak half of the pines were completely without branches, their white bark standing in contrast to the dark green foliage of their neighbors.

Beers, Hog and I began climbing up the west bowl to gain access to the tallest shot with the best sun exposure. We climbed up and around a large rock outcrop to traverse above a 60 foot wide gap that connected the large snow field with the even larger one below. We reached a high point with a nice flat spot that was perfect for taking off skins and preparing to descend. It looked good to me, however Beers wanted to go higher to reach the tallest point on the face, a big point of snow that touched the hundred food shear face of orange granite above the west bowl.

He reached the highest point and we proceeded to watch him drop his ski down in the melt hole between the rock face and the snow field. That was almost a disaster, depending on the size of the hole, the ski could have slid down and been gone for good. Leaving Beers a long walk out with one ski strapped to his back. He climbed into the hole head first and squeezed his body twelve feet down and just grabbed the tail of his ski with his finger tips and pulled it out. Hog and I thought it was quite hilarious. He popped up again and with torn legs on his mid-weight underpants, a little token to remind him how lucky he was.

Well, we busted some turns down the shot, which was fairly good although a little sun cupped, the flat light making it more challenging than it needed to be.

We regrouped at the lunch rock, and began what was one of the best ski runs I have probably ever taken. It started out with some navigating through rock outcrops and small snow fields, down steep little pitches that shoot you up and over a snowy ridge until we reached the drop that contains Silliman Lake. We stood and looked at 1,700 vertical feet of perfect corn, rollers through rock outcrops to sweet intermediate wide open blue runs to a steep pitch about as long as the Face at Sierra Summit. It was awesome. The corn was perfect. Two inches of the little balls on top a soft packed base. This stuff is really hard to make bad turns on.

We all ripped down to the top of the steep pitch that dropped us into camp. I watched as the other carved down the face, then began my run. Made 10 to 15 turns and headed for a drop over a rock band, pointed the skis and flew off a 20 foot rock drop and landed perfectly on the other side (actually I saw the drop coming tried to stop and slid on my side over the two foot drop and crashed on the other side, but you can dream can’t you). Got up, skied the final hundred feet and slid into camp high on the amazing rush. It was the perfect ski run.

Sat for a few minutes, packed up the bags and started the two hour Gorilla ski run through the trees and back to the trail for the short hike back to the car. Once back at the car, we said our goodbyes and began the two hour drive home. I was ready to see Tracy and the Boys, but as we drove farther down the hill my heart still yearned to be up there. The call of the Sierra is an amazing thing, it never leaves you. The high alpine places and special little hideaways under the open sky. Where the wind blows cold in the summer and small patches of green grass line little mountain lakes. Cold granite on the palms of your hand the sound of wind pushing its way through pine needles.

Tall granite calls you to find serenity in its heights. It draws you in and pushes you to go higher. Many have discovered what they are made of up on high craggy ridges. The Lord speaks to you in such places, fills you with life, and shows you his glory. It will always have a place in my heart.

Thanks for Reading

Bike = Freedom

2008-05-19T16:28:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when I get on my Bike I feel free? Everything fades away, all the crap, all the pressure, all the junk; it all falls to the side. I can let all the stuff fall away, like a butterfly shredding it’s cocoon and stretching out it’s wings for the first time. Floating away….

Makes me feel like a kid. I have been riding since I was 12 and I guess my mind and my subconscious revert back to the days when life had no worries. Get out of school and jump on the bike and just ride tell dusk.

Roll out to the park and take it all in. Back when the Berg was a different place. North of Herndon didn’t exist, and you rode through fields forever to get to Copper and Willow. Fruit orchards and sheep pastures. Now its houses as far as the eye can see. Back then Bubblegum was a dinky old two lane road with uneven pavement and no bike lane.

Anyway……Clip in and spin those pedals. Wind against your face cleansing the soul and washing the crap of the world away for just that little bit of the day…….shredding the hardened shell formed by dealing with the world from 8 to 5.

Free…..Like a kid. Like that kid hidding under the dark corners of adulthood waiting to be set free.

Get Out of My Face

2008-05-16T10:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just want to punch the wall. You fight, kick, scratch, everything comes together and then bang…..dust, puff of smoke, and it is gone. Frustration kicks you in the groin and then that annoying guy in the office walks in and you just want to yell, “Get the F*#K out of my face you freaking dumb ass. I don’t give a crap about the $5 iPhone cover that you got on ebay”.

Then you drive home. The lady in the Mercedes behind you with the big, trendy sunglasses, wrapping her lipstick lips on her Virginia Slims 110’s while talking on her cell phone just makes you want to puke. You just want to get home, then you barely miss the light at Gettysburg and Palm……stupid freaking light, there isn’t even anybody waiting. Fume……

I used to have a really bad temper. Would fly off the handle and get in somebody’s face for the smallest thing. I stuffed that rage and fought to bring about a calmer me, but sometimes the frustration builds and you need to vent. Deep down, I still rage. Fighting against the angst. If I don’t stuff it I have a tendency to be an asshole, speaking my mind, jumping all over someone for the smallest thing. Just like my Grandfather. He was, is, and will always be a big Asshole. God I don’t want to be like that, but when times get tough and deep breaths don’t work anymore I find myself slipping into that mold.

You work so hard to do something and still find the result lacking, and end up wondering what happened. I did everything right, trusted in the result, and still ended up disappointed. I have seen God work in my life so many times. He takes these situations and turns them into something better than you ever expected. One minute your wondering what the hell is going on, why did that happen and then the next day ….clarity. Something happens that makes it all crystal. You realize why this, or why that.

I know these things happen so that I learn to trust in Him, and find peace in the chaos and make my way through the traps of life. Stick it out in the hard times to reach the goal at the end of the road, but keeping your hands away from something that is working right, but you think needs fixing is incredibly hard.

Trust
Faith

They are hard words to put into practice when you want something so bad. When frustration and rage take over your critical thinking. Easier to fight, scratch, kick, force it to work………but deep down you know what the right path is.

Trust, Wait….Pray

Trust, Wait….Pray

Eventually…..the door will open.

Rant

2008-05-13T13:06:00.000-07:00

5:30 does not = 5:28

We roll at 5:30, some want to leave early, but as light shines and temps warm, more show up. I imagine myself rolling in at 5:30 only to find the group gone. They left at 5:28.

If it was them, they would be pissed.

Oh well its not them. Someday it will be.

Hey anon.....did I spell everything right?

My rant for the Month.....

Goodby Lee

2008-05-12T06:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the world lost one of the Good Guys.

The Cancer and chemo finally taking its toll, Tracy and I sat by his side for a few last hours. He lived life to the fullest all his eighty years and even when things were not going well he was still planning for what was to come.

Lee Bowers........ may you forever rest in peace. You will be greatly missed. Can't wait to hear more of your stories on the other side.

2008-04-28T16:48:00.000-07:00

The automatic goes into drive and we set ourselves into motion. The rearview gives away the contemplation of a young mind.

Out the window the stare takes in the world as it flies by in a blur, too fast to really comprehend anything.

Eyes bounce from one focal point to the next. Memories pile onto memories, forming what will be the basis for decisions and actions as he takes his place in the world.

Time, space……we can only touch them for a moment and they are gone. The moments are what life is about. Moments, fleeting, fading.

Youth becomes aged and innocent is lost. Decisions, coming one after the next, will shape not only them but also those around them.

What is he thinking about? We can only pray that the most pressing thought is that of love. Love for each other and the things of this life that are good.

“Hey!”

“Yeah”

“What ya thinking about?”

“Nothing”

One of my favorite answers. Nothing worth noting, just contemplation.

I have heard it put this way.

I see you slowly swim away,
as the light is leaving town,
to a place that I can’t be
but there's no apologies

So Go On
Just Go On

There is still so many things I want to say to you,

But Go On
Just Go On

Were bound by blood thats moving, from the moment that we start.

Jack Johnson

Figuring on Figuring

2008-04-23T06:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish I was lazy. Content with sitting on my butt watching some TV on saturday. Growing my belly and swinging golf clubs every once in a while. Life would be easier, less frustrating. Instead we are always pushing the time schedule, trying to fit it all in.

I wish I was happy sitting at my desk typing away and planning projects, but the mind always seems to wander to free time and bike rides and doing fun stuff with the Kids and Tracy and all the other things in life that I would like to accomplish. It is a very long list.

I start doing something and before you know it I am obsessed (Unfortunately this never really happens with work. I try, but I just can’t seem to get that wrapped up in it). Thinking, plotting, planning, trying to get better and better. I imagine myself pushing it as hard as I can, doing better and better, but reality always hits, and when I find myself going overboard I get shocked back to reality because it starts to take its toll on the family. Time to take a step back.

What makes it doubly hard is that Tracy is the same way. We both do the same thing, thinking about getting back to that top level of fitness. Honing our skills. Climbing, biking, skiing, whatever, it is always the same.

Need to find some sort of balance. Push, pull, push, pull...

Why is it so hard just to go for a ride and have fun, and let that guy go up the road. Nope, got to chase. Is he still there? Only a couple guys left on the wheel.....I shake my head and get pissed, come on Tim...just ride, have fun. Its a hard thing to do. I guess for me, that is fun.

Life is about learning a lesson, constantly expanding our perspectives, changing, shaping ourselves. Trying to make ourselves better people.

I can spend all day beating myself up, or......just learn to live with the fact that I am still learning.

Let today’s lesson begin

Dreaming

2008-04-17T17:31:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream about flat tires. Goat heads, those little evil beast. Hard as nails. I know when that happens I have been thinking about riding too much.

We got back from our trip and I have been on the bike quite a bit. The itch, the pestering, nagging feeling, the need to get up at 4:20 am and get on the bike. After a couple weeks the feeling is coming back and I can see the group slowing coming back to me as the I log more miles. Non conventional, no training plan, no tech gadgets, no feeling of quilt when I push the pedals a little too hard. Just riding with the boyz and girls. Sprinting at the Stop Ahead sign. Tricking Beers by going early.

I miss Bike racing…..I can feel it.

I can feel it. Like a kid

I rode 7 days in a row last week and on Wednesday I was so hungry the list of things I ate would run a mile. Eat, feel tired, eat some more….then eat again. Hunger that never goes away. I imagine that it is like a construction site running 24 hours a day with a never ending supply of manual labor, you need to keep the building materials coming or bad things start to happen. Eat, go to bed hungry then wake up starving. Eat some breakfast and then by 9:30 I am rifling through the fridge in the office kitchen looking for the left over rice from lunch last week.
I don’t really need to set my alarm anymore; I just wake up at 4:30 now. It is amazing how your body works.

Can I get an Amen!!

2008-04-09T09:42:00.000-07:00

Two words

Waiting sucks!!!!

10 Years!!

2008-04-07T06:54:00.000-07:00

On the 28th Tracy and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary. We had just arrived home from Ireland (more to come on that) at midnight, got the boys to sleep till 7 and spent the morning unpacking and walking around in a daze. The boys were happy playing with the toys they had missed over the two weeks and were busy creating with little hands and minds.

We had arranged for my parents to watch the kids later in the day so we could celebrate. Got some things done, hung out together. Nice. Saturday, read the paper without little fingers poking and prodding asking for cereal and strawberries.

We decided to go for a mountain bike ride, something we hadn’t done together for several years. We didn’t even talk about where we would go, we just drove the 30 minutes to Auberry and made the left to drop down to the river and pull into the parking lot at Squaw Leap. If you ever go to the San Joaquin river gorge above Millerton Lake, go in the Spring.

Tall green grass tickles your ankles as Fiddleneck shoots up everywhere. Wild Turkeys, Golden Eagles, as well as others lurk around. Too many other wildflower species to name, shoot up all over the mountain. You can see why the Native Californians loved to hang out in this place. The mighty San Joaquin River pounding with Spring runoff rolled in the granite gorge providing a constant drone. The river is just a vestige of its old self now. Dams and diversions feed power plants built in the 40’s, mighty tunnels carry the majority of the water to the turbines that resonate with a low buzzing hum. The water is release downstream from a 10-foot tall tunnel and slowly makes its way into Millerton Lake State Park to be stopped by Friant Dam.

I started coming here about 16 years ago. A young guy two years out of high school, no job, Jay and I would drive his old Subaru 3 or 4 times a week to try and kill ourselves on the technical single track. When I first rode this trail, it was hard tail, no front suspension, toe clips and no helmet. I didn’t care, we were stoned most of the time and Jay and I would race up the grueling 50 minute climb. We were just as interested in trying to tackle the climb clean as we were in ripping down the single track. Jay, all power, no finesse, he would muscle up and over the rocky sections pumping his huge calves and his Danner hiking boots. Throwing out profanity laced tantrums when he had to dab his foot.

Some sections of the trail we were never able to ride completely clean, and now trail work has erased many of the hardest sections and bypassed others. One can see the vestiges of the old trail snaking up a steep section as you scoot past on the new smooth bypass trail.

Anyway, enough with the past. Tray and I were there and the weather was fantastic, the trail in perfect condition and my body was ready for a good sweat. The first 1.5 miles of the ride snakes down on a narrow single track to the bridge that crosses high over the river. Swooping and crossing little creeks and gullies, this trail always brings a smile to my face, just the perfect mix of downward slope, buff trail and rocky sections. Ripping, carving, swooping, then slam on the brakes and creep around a set of tight switch backs over a rocky section and you are a the bridge.

On spring days there will always be a few cars in the lot. Today we saw climbers bouldering on the cliffs above the river and some families scrambling and frolicking in the water. A couple of kids come walking up to us as we took in the view.

“It was scary watching you come down the trail”

“ Really”

“My Dad says that that is the new thing for Granola Bars”

“Huh?” Dad rolls up with a Budwieser tall boy,

“hows it going?”

“Good”

Granola Bars? I assume he probably said, Granolas or tree huggers or something like that. Strangest thing ever, the last thing I would ever think about MTB is tree hugging granolas. We start up the climb and I have to say it was great to be there, although I had forgotten how demanding the riding was. Hunched over the bars on the end of the saddle you power over the technical sections. It is tough when you are at the limit and then need to explode to power over some rocks or a log or something. Good stuff, and after a few minutes what used to come so naturally to me creeps its way back into my muscle memory and I am rolling.

Tracy looks good too, as always, but on the bike she looks great.

Grinding up the single track, she is always on the look out for Poison Oak, and it is everywhere up here. Right now the leaves are shinny green calling you to reach out and grab them, rub them on your body and pay the price for being out there.

After about an hour we reach the top, and head down the other side..........

Five miles of pure fun. How great it was to step back in the past and go up there again with Tray.

Happy Anniversary

Heading to the UK

2008-03-15T05:13:00.000-07:00

We left for the Uk on Thursday around 6:30 pst. After 20 hours, two plane rides, two different tube (subway) lines and a train and a cab ride we made it to Brighton and are sleeping at Stina's flat. Needless to say, anybody with two crazy kids like ours will understand what a journey it was.

The flight to LAX was fine, but after we landed had take a bus over to Terminal 2 and go through security again before we could board our ten hour flight to Heathrow. Virgin Atlantic flight 24 non-stop to London. The kids passed out, but tray and I got an hour of sleep and arrived pretty wrecked. We got off the plane and headed to customs. The line was huge, but luckily for us a security office let us pass on through because we had kids and they were starting to go nuts after being stuck in plane seats for 10.5 hours. We get passed customs and head for the baggage claims. Grab the bags and start down the tunnel for the tube. We keep walking and walking, seems like we are in this underground tunnel for an hour. Finally get to the Heathrow tube station and lucky for us….Kids are Free. Jump on the Piccadilly line and sit down in a car with just a few people on it for now.

First of all we went fairly slim on the baggage. One large suitcase with rollers, a smaller one on rollers and overhead bag and my messenger bag. Basically if I had my messenger bag over the shoulder I could roll the big case, strap the overhead bag onto the smaller case and roll the lot, carrying them is another story, which I was to find out soon enough.

We stay on the Piccadilly line until South Kensington and then transfer to the District Line and then on to Victoria Station. It was about ten stops to South Kensington, and I noticed that the doors don’t stay open very long. Finn was falling asleep and along the way more and more folks were loading into what was once our empty car. I began to notice that it was going to be hard to get off the train in one piece, as we were pinned in the back of the car. Five stops to go, more people, three stops, ….more people. We arrive at South Kensington and grab the bags, and start pushing people out of the way as politely as I can. Tracy lugs the half-asleep Finn and Reed is following me. The bags get stuck on some guys boots and the clock begins to tick. Tray and Fin are out and I make the way push through he crowds and out the door. Put the bags down, look behind and Reed starts yelling still on the train. The bell begins to ring signalling that the train doors are about to close and I reach back, grab Reed and pull him through the door just as it closes. That was seriously close.

Take a couple of deep breaths and collect ourselves. Ok…now we need to head up to the platform to catch the District line, but Finn is tired and melting down. Wants me to carry him. I have all the bags and Reed wants to walk himself, and not hold hands, people everywhere and we round a corner……no escalator, which became a typical theme. So….grab the bags and head up, kids are melting down, I can’t carry them. Tracy makes her way holding Reed kicking and Screaming, Finn crying and I am only halfway up. Finn stay here…I will take the bags and come back to get you. Just then and young professional in a nice suit passes us and stands at the top….debates a moment and heads on back down the stairs to help us out. Grabs the big case and lugs it up the stairs, I reach the top and say thanks and he is off…..amazingly nice, and could not have come at a better time. We reach the top platform and head to platform 2 to catch the District line. The train was clam, but once we hit Victoria Station, it was a non-stop sea of people. Down narrow passage ways, around tight corners we weaved our way to the rail station. Up and down stairs, and twice some nice guys stop to help me carry the bags up the stairs, while Tracy led the Boys. We would have to stop and make sure we were heading the right way. I must have looked totally out of place in the rush hour crowd, as I was the only guy in a short sleeves shirt, sweating. Most people were dressed in long coats, scarves and sweaters. I was amazed at the ability to move such large numbers of people through the subway stations.

It would be really hard to be in a wheelchair in this town, no escalators, no elevators, only stairs and hoards of people moving as fast as they can to get to their trains and busses and cabs.

We make it up to the main platform and move to the side to regroup. The density of people was just amazing, constantly flowing, constantly moving. Like water in a large river, they just keep coming, never stopping. We meet Christina at Café Ritazza grab a few beers and jump a train to Brighton. Finn and Reed pass out on the train and we have to carry them off, catch a cab and take a short drive to Clifton Hill and Cristina and Ed’s place. 20 hours after we got to the airport in the Berg we get there, but now the kids are awake and don’t crash out until 3:15 am. I wake at 9:00 am and take a quick walk to check out a little of Brighton. I woke Tracy at 11:30, but the kids slept tell 1:00 pm.

We head out with the Kids and Christina as our guide. Check out the Lanes, a classic small street, ally way district with shops and pubs, lots of pubs. Make our way down to the water and let the kids play in the rocks. By now we are all hungry and head to a great little place called the Coach House. It is so great having a local quide to show you all the great places. The Coach House was a great find, classic British fare with great beers on tap.

Swung by a Irish Pub with some live music and Dancing going on outside. Head down to the Brighton Sea Life center, which opened in 1827 and still operates in the same building. Definitely worth checking out, just for the interesting architecture and the kids loved it. Leave there an it is fully raining….make our way to the station and catch a cab home……End of Day one.

Marley

2008-03-11T17:44:00.000-07:00

Goodbye Big Dog.......You will forever be in our Hearts.

The Road of Life

2008-03-04T06:03:00.000-08:00

A friend sent Tracy and I this Poem. Take it for what it is, but as I look back on my life and look forward to the next half I can't help but wait to see what comes next.

At first, I saw God as my observer,
my judge,
keeping track of the things I did wrong,
so as to know whether I merited heaven
or hell when I die.
He was out there sort of like a president.
I recognized His picture when I saw it,
but I really didn't know Him.

But later on
when I met Christ,
it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride,
but it was a tandem bike,
and I noticed that Christ
was in the back helping me pedal.

I don't know just when it was
that He suggested we change places,
but life has not been the same since.

When I had control,
I knew the way.
It was rather boring,
but predictable . . .
It was the shortest distance between two points.

But when He took the lead,
He knew delightful long cuts,
up mountains,
and through rocky places
at breakneck speeds,
it was all I could do to hang on!
Even though it looked like madness,
He said, "Pedal!"

I worried and was anxious
and asked,
"Where are you taking me?"
He laughed and didn't answer,
and I started to learn to trust.

I forgot my boring life
and entered into the adventure.
And when I'd say, "I'm scared,"
He'd lean back and touch my hand.

He took me to people with gifts that I needed,
gifts of healing,
acceptance
and joy.
They gave me gifts to take on my journey,
my Lord's and mine.

And we were off again.
He said, "Give the gifts away;
they're extra baggage, too much weight."
So I did,
to the people we met,
and I found that in giving I received,
and still our burden was light.

I did not trust Him,
at first,
in control of my life.
I thought He'd wreck it;
but He knows bike secrets,
knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners,
knows how to jump to clear high rocks,
knows how to fly to shorten scary passages.

And I am learning to shut up
and pedal
in the strangest places,
and I'm beginning to enjoy the view
and the cool breeze on my face
with my delightful constant companion, Jesus Christ.

And when I'm sure I just can't do anymore,
He just smiles and says . . . "Pedal."

-- author unknown

The Racing season is upon us

2008-02-14T05:19:00.000-08:00

So the racing season is upon us now and this presidents day weekend is the traditional time to kick off the festivities round here. We have Cantua on Saturday, Pine Flat on Sunday and Dinuba on Monday. Exciting stuff, I feel a little sad that I won’t be competing, but hey you just need to roll with what life gives you an make the best.

With the racing season about to smack us straight in the face I can’t help but think about last year. You see, I finally received my Best All Around Rider Trophy for Cat 3s in the mail a week or so ago.

You see for those who do not know the NCNCA gives out awards for the rider in each category who earns the most points in BAT/BAR races, and I just happened to be that guy in the 3s.

I have to say I am a little torn about his award, cause I don’t think I was by any means the best overall rider in the 3s last year. I look back to who I lined up against in 07 and all the 3s out there and there were some studs. Vinni, Tore Natta, Jarred Barrilleaux just to name a few.

Shoot, look at Jarred, I raced with him in Visalia, we got into a four man break and the dude was ripping the legs off the four of us, I even told him to slow down at one point as he was dropping the other two guys in the break. Every time he came to the front it was 28+ full gas. Even though I took him at the line by an inch (had to throw that in there) I knew he was awesome.

I told Tracy after the race, watch out, cause that guy is a stud. Next thing I know, he is tearing it up in the P/1/2s and he has signed with Jittery Joe’s as a pro. Amazing.....One of those I told you so moments.

Then there is Tore. Did a few with his as well, dude is 6-foot whatever huge and wins Merco Road Race, then Copperopolis just to point out a few of his accomplishments. I remember the CVC time trial last year, I was all geared up to go and in the start gate I look back and there is Tore, crap he look fast. I tell him in jest, “Don’t pass me.”

Well I start out and I am rollin at 27 mph when I hear this roar and he comes flying past me in the first mile going 32 mph, talk about a blow to the moral.

Everybody know that Vinni is a stud, he just took a 19th in a huge P1 race down south with a ginormous amount of climbing.

Anyway it is an honor to be singled out and it is really good for the club. I guess it is not about who is the fastest on a single day, but consistency. I just happened to do really well in a lot of races where there wasn’t enough riders to get maximum upgrade points. Such is life, you just need to roll with it.

Kid Update

The big thing that happened last weekend. Reed my three year old son, ripped the training wheels off his little 12-inch bike and started riding without even knowing what he was doing.

I said, hey Reed, should we raise those training wheels up and see how you do.

No Daddy, take them off.

Are you sure?

Take them off Daddy.

Ok

First time, grab the back of his seat and he starts rolling. After a few steps I let go, and he is cruising, he doesn’t even know he is doing it until Finn starts yelling. Bro, Bro your doing it.

He looks back, sees that I am not holding on and gives me this smug look, like "see Daddy, I told you"

Magnificent!!!

Life is full of Choices....Big and Small

2008-02-09T07:01:00.001-08:00

Life is a confusing mess

Twisting, turning, bouncing off closed doors, we make our way through open ones. Joy, pain, anticipation as the light begins to touch your face. Penetrate into the next space, time, and reality. Dreams, we all have them. Dreams of what should be, some are so deeply embedded in our soul we can never let go, they never seem to fade. They are always there, a distant voice calling you, tempting you to live it, seek it out.

What do we do with them. Are we brave enough to reach out and grab them. Fingers fumbling, the tips shaking as you stretch and reach for them. Once you grasp them, you better hold on tight cause they can drag you around to places you never imagined.

What’s that saying, “Be careful what you wish for, cause you just might get it all, and somethings you don’t want”

Sometimes the path can be so foggy, muddied with the trials of what is required. You find yourself doing things, and in places where you never thought you would be. The path has led you here, but you look back to where it all started and think, this isn’t what I wanted, expected, imagined, but then you crest a rise, break through the fog and the goal is right there in front of you, in a place you never would have expected.

You pray.....is this the right thing. The pain is too much to reach out and touch it, only to have it slip through your fingers and fall into the ocean. Sinking to the bottom never to be seen again. Is it better to never have seen it, than to be so close you can taste it, then lose it. This is your chance. Do you take it, even if others don’t understand and some never will?

Everyday we are faced with choices some big, some little. How do you make them, what tools do you use to evaluate your situation? Prayer, hope and love...tools to help you weed the good stuff from the bad. The fruit from the thorns. I pray the Lord gives me the tools to push through the crud and find the beauty.

You make a tough decision, and before you know it, another is staring you down. Two lone gunfighters, beads of sweat dripping off their brows. Twitching, with itchy fingers. Will you make the right decision or will it choose you.

The cycle repeats itself....forever.

Lord help me to make the right ones.....everyday

Man I don't know Revisited

2008-01-31T05:47:00.000-08:00

I guess there was some confusion with the first post of this series. So I think I need to clarify some things.

1. I am not quitting anything. Although I don’t have the time to train like I did last year, I am still in love with the bike and plan on racing at some point. But life gets in the way, and I always knew at some point other things would be a bigger priority, and although it took a while to realize....I did.

2. The sentence at the bottom of the first post was misunderstood. (“Bale out on a great thing.....cause its hard, and it gets in the way of play time with the kids.”) This means play time with your friends, not your children. The context here was that the family gets in the way of riding, training, whatever. Think about that and reread that section.

3. In general this post was about how sad it makes me feel when a family breaks up. Doesn’t matter what the reason is, or what both sides of the story are. The rift has been created and lives will change, children will suffer and eventually regret. It was not about one individual case in particular, but so many they get hard to count. If you think this was about you......then think about it.

A commitment is a commitment, and at times it is hard to love your spouse, or your kids, or your situation but you stick it out and fight through the hard times, cause they fade. Nothing in life is perfect, except the love of Christ, and If we get caught thinking about what coulda, shoulda, woulda we lose the moments that we have right in front of us.....

Enjoy the ride, good times and bad, cause it defines who we are. Live, love and share the moments.

Would love to hear your thoughts.

Moments

2008-01-17T05:38:00.000-08:00

There are certain moments in ones life that you will never forget. This was one of them. Others come and you hold on to them and hope that the details never fade. The feeling, the sights, the smells....we try to keep them as vivid as possible.

We took Finn up skiing for the third time last weekend. The second time we took him he wanted to ride the big chair. "To the top Daddy," were his words, and so we went. The 14 minute ride up Chair 1 was brilliant, the ride down was trying. Two hours later we were back a the lodge. He must have crashed 200 times, each one smiling. One time he went down and looked up at me and said, "Daddy....I like Skiing with you." Melts your heart.

Last weekend he rode the Chair twice, the second time I will never forget.

Finn had a break through, trying so hard to follow his buddy Ian, he power wedged straight down the hill picking up speed and carrying it through the flatter sections.

I will never forget, letting the skis run under me as Finn slid along side flowing down the Mountain. His face a picture of perfect Joy as he glided under his own power. Bang he got it, and just like that first time he broke the chains of training wheels he now propelled himself down the mountain by his own direction. Channeling gravity, harnessing its power.

These moments are more than they seem. They are the realization that what Tracy and I created is growing into his place in the world.

Gaining his own identity and shaping his future. We realize we only have so much influence and we can guide him only so much. We pray he makes good choices, but just like us all, I am sure he will learn a few lessons the hard way.

There will be other days like this, other more important ones, when I let go of him and he moves on to make his own tracks in the world, carving out his future and defining his past.

Welcome to the world little Man...........

One of the Best Quotes Ever

2008-01-10T11:02:00.000-08:00

John Eldridge puts it best in his book Wild at Heart when he says “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and go and do that, because what the world needs is more people who are alive.”

Man....I don't Know!!!

2007-12-21T12:23:00.000-08:00

You know, sometimes a Brother just gets something stuck in his eye. Just bugs him, pestering and irritating. You think, what the hell are you doing fool.

We all got things in our lives that we love to do. Driven to get better, passion to excel. Extracurricular activities. On the side. We love then, can't get enough of them, think about them, obsess if you will. But in the end, they are just hobbies, sports, activities....a way to take your mind off the grind of everyday man. We may love it, need it, crave it, push other factors of our lives aside to make room, but in the end it is just a hobby......If it don't pay the rent, then.....son....... you got yourself a hobby. If you can find a way to pay the rent doing it...more power to ya, but at our age.......sorry man that ain't going to happen. Some would say they become a distraction.

I am not saying that, but some would (the distraction part, anyway).

What are the important things.......The things that need immediate attention. Commitments, promises.....your responsibilities, your Kids, your spouse. Sometimes they aren't fun, are about more than you, but they're yours and you must reach out and embrace them, grab them and hold on tight.....cause Brother, sometimes they take you to a place you don't want to be. Next thing you know, your like, "What the F#*&, how did I get here."

Makes the world go round. Don't commit if you cant come through.....

Sometimes people just bug me. Bale out on a great thing.....cause its hard, and it gets in the way of play time with the kids. What worthwhile thing in life isn't hard? Give me one........Something fulfilling.....Give me one.

Anyway.....Sometimes...... it sticks in your eye and bugs you, it eats at you, causes the stomach to turn........and you think, Man.......what are you doing?

Latenight Shuffle

2007-12-12T06:42:00.001-08:00

The kids gots themselves some colds and I have been spending a lot of time doing the latenight room to room shuffle. Cough, wheeze, cough...shuffle, shuffle.....pat, pat, pat....deep breath...Z'zzz. Wait one hour......repeat. Waking up at 4:20 does not work very well on that schedule if you want functioning neurons later in the Day.

So......to the trainer I go. Cycling.tv and a towel to wipe away the drops as the sweat stings the eye ball. Oh, how I love the morning ride. The cold that creeps into the bones. The first 10 minutes is pure torture, but then bliss..........

Warmth creeps out from the inside, the engine starts to purrr and then the skin becomes clammy and sticky sweet.

Too Freakin Cold

2007-12-10T20:51:00.000-08:00

It's supposed to be 31 freakin degrees tomorrow morning at dark thirty. My morning ride buds from the hood are bailing and this little tickle in the back of my pie hole has left me thinking about the trainer and sweat pooling on the floor below me. It's that or frozen cheeks and water bottles.

It is really hard to talk when you are riding in 31 degree weather.

Oh...but I do love the morning ride (more to come on that), and I know the die-hards will be there. JH, Beers4, GVnata, and that French guy, Mellon Ball. I want to get out there and push um down, but nay, sense and sensibility force me to rethink.

I will let you know what I decide......

Nice Day

2007-12-02T19:53:00.000-08:00

Today was one of those beautiful winter days in the Central Valley. Crisp, clean, blue skies, with the Sierra in full effect. Patterson Bluff rising out of the valley, the giant granite monolith shining in the sun. You know the air is crystal clear when you can see that huge beast of a rock from freeway 41.

Lots of people know about the cliffs in Yosemite, the granite monoliths of Kings Canyon, but few know of Patterson. This 2,000 foot giant rises up out of the Sierra foothills and casts its weighty view over the central valley like a sentinel on guard against the oppressors of our day.

It seems so close. Like you should be able to reach out and touch it. Fact is, it's a 3 hour drive and a nasty bush whack through poison oak covered slope to get to its base. No Fun.

Today the San Joaquin River Parkway and Conservancy trust hosted their holiday cheer festivities out at the Coke Hallowell Center for river studies, a fancy name for the River House. It is a lovely restored late 1800's farm house off of Old Friant Road.

Anybody who has done a ride from The Berg has most likely gone past this gem. Lovely place. The conservancy does wonderful things to promote river awareness and has been buying up large pieces of land along the river to protect this natural wonder right in our back yards. Stop buy and check it out.

The Fresno wildlife rehabilitation center was there showing off some off their best selections of avian species saved from the clutches of death. This fabulous Peregrine was saved from the grave after some knuckle-head took a pot shot at it and damaged its wing. Now this representative of the fastest bird species in the world is flightless. Still amazed by the idiots.

I can remember a time when Tracy and I were up at Yosemite point and two Peregrines were doing a dance for our sole enjoyment. Rising up from the Valley floor on thermals they would soar high until they pointed their wings back and morphed into a avian bullet and shot past us 20 yards away at 180 mph straight down 3,ooo feet into the valley. The two twisting and turning together in a spiraling love dance. Performing their splendid aerial show while we sat awestruck by their acrobatics. Amazing creatures, living in a vertical world.

I have had many experiences with these wonderful birds over the years in my time hanging from ropes high up on the granite cliffs in the Valley and every one is inspiring. They watch you, you watch them, and then they shoot off, masters of their domain.

The encounters never get old.

Work Trips and Tripping Gamblers

2007-11-22T08:34:00.001-08:00

Monday was another one of those 15 to 1 ratio days, except the client was late and we only met for 45 minutes. Nice. It is always interesting going to the SF airport. What a great place to people watch, travelers struggling to lug their oversized carry-ons and micro-suit cases.

There is always the usual victims, the frazzled coat and tie, hippy trustafarian on his way to Nepal, or whatever is the new cool place to go using grand-ma’s money. The retired gamblers on their way to Las Vegas to play the nickel slots. Great place to see all the latest in high tech gadgets, everybody’s got a freakin lap-top and smart phone. People would rather watch DVD’s on their computer than simply read a book. That always amazes me, all the good books out there and you can’t wait to fire up the computer and watch Die-Hard for the 20th time.

Seeing how it is Turkey week, the airports are especially packed. Alberta, Chicago, Phoenix, Eugene, Salt Lake City, they all do it the Airport shuffle. It is amazing how people can be so tan in November, and I don’t think I have ever seen so many little dogs in little dog carrying bags.

So many people, smiling, scowling, tired, little kids cruzing with their bags looking around at all the newness there is to see. Old men, black socks and sandals, college kids on their way home, short shorts and Ugg Boots.

Enough of that airport fun.......

Last Saturday I hooked up with Dan, Mike and Jim to catch the 5:30 morning ride. Put in three plus hours and be home for Soccer. I suggested 211 to Spring Valley and then home. Sounds good. I love 211, what a nice ride. A snaking little back road with minimal traffic, some climbs but nothing that will destroy ya. Mike and Jim had to turn around and be back by 8. Dan and I roll along and we get passed by a dude in a silver 1984 BMW and he waves with a gracious grin. How are you doooing. We ride on chatting as we spin the 25 up the steepest part of the climb, chatting, smiling, taking in the sunrise and feeling lucky to be out. Really, that is an important thing to think about, we are lucky to be out. With all that life deals you and other responsibilities it is such a luxury to have free time to ride.

We continue on and I tell Dan about how every time I ride this road somebody stops to ask me directions to the local Indian Racheria and Casino. You see Table Mountain Rancheria opened up a casino near Millerton Lake about 15 miles out of town years ago and it has become quite a monster. You can roll past there any morning of the week at 7:00 am and the lot will be packed. It amazes me still that people would want to spend their time doing that. Oh well, I won’t get on that soap box. The endless traffic that rolls past on Friant and Auberry probably think the same thing about me.

“Why in the Hell would you want to ride you bike all the way out here? Put some freakin clothes on you spandex wearing fag, get off the freaking road!!!” As the bags of fast food trash and cigarette buts are ejected out the sun roof.

Anyway, it always happens, they come off the 99 to the 145 miss the right hand turn that takes you down to Friant and end up in nowwheresville with a pocket full of cash and no place to lose it.

“Yeah Dan happens every time”
“Really”
“No doubt”

Just then the dude in the 1984 Beamer, comes rippin around the corner, slams on his brakes rolls down the window. In broken English…”Hey, yous guys know where the Casino Table is?” Stalls the car.

Dan can’t control himself and has to roll away to keep from laughing in the guys face.

“I am really lost huh?”

‘Yeah Man…..You are”

So I give the dude some directions and he is off to lose his rent money.

Who will it be next time?

Holidays….

I have one more thing to add…….Went to the mall to get the chillins some new shoes.

I hate the freakin Mall…….

Sight to behold

2007-11-04T06:53:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday was my Birthday. I turned 35.

Don't really look into numbers so I can't really find any significance in 35. 5 tell 40, half past 30. Went for a 3-hour ride with 17 guys from the team. I was quite a nice size group. We just keep on growing ya'll, don't know what to say....Cool.

Got a few nice gifts from the fam and went to a very nice Dinner at Vini, Vidi, Vici down in the tower. Finn scored 4 goals in his soccer game. But the coolest thing of the day was this.

There she is on the bike....riding. Lovely!!

She Walks

2007-11-02T05:53:00.000-07:00

Tracy got the Green light to ditch the crutches whenever she wants. Actually Dr Lindval said two more weeks with one crutch then .....crutches go bye bye. When he said it I was thinking two more weeks, F*%K that. But he went on and clarified, no, use them if you need them, don't want you to walk around limping.....feel it out.......test the muscles, cause girl...its going be a bit painful and stuff.

So, That was Monday and slowly this week they are going away. Nice, but she has had to deal with pain. Her muscles are sore from PT and her foot hurts. I guess three months with no pressure, then bang.....to have the ground pushing up on your foot would cause some uncomfortableness. Weird thing was, she went to her first PT session and rode the recumbent stationary bike, got a little sweat going. She said it felt really GOOD BABY.

That was Tuesday, on Wednesday she took a nose dive and had a horrible day. Discussed it with her homoeopathic chiro-doc-vitamin-herb-guru-dude and he tells her to take it slow, that after that long a period of time without any lactic acid in the system, then bang a big dose, it can send your mind for a loop. Depression, exhaustion.......He was right she felt it the next day, one of the worst days she has had in a long time. But once she heard from someone in the know that that is what was going on ...the fog lifted and she felt better knowing it was a chemical thing.

It is so great to see her smile and watch her walk a little. No crutches to get in the way of hugs. We will have to do something with those things. Suggestions Anyone?

Happy Belated Holloween!!!

Ramblings of an Infrastructure Planner

2007-10-24T17:18:00.000-07:00

I stare out the driver side window and look out over the miles and miles of row crops that stretch as far as the eye can see. The fruit basket of the west flows past me to the melodious drone of the tires on grooved asphalt. Cruising along at 75 they blow past in a blur of green and brown, occasionally broken up by a canal or ditch bank.

It is one of those glorious Fall afternoons, clear skies and the rear view mirror revels the towering Sierra Nevada. In front of me the Coast Range sticks up like a small distant cousin. The two ranges spilling their souls over the eons to form the alluvial plane that feeds the millions. It’s only an hour drive to The Baths, but it always seems longer. The ever-present fear of the mustachioed, Ray-Ban Pilot wearing, donut eating, CHP officer stroking the radar gun tucked between his legs. Toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth.

I have been a consultant to the City of the Baths for several months now and an interesting image has come into my mind. This City is still growing on the back of the Bay. Like low-lying ground accepting the floodwaters, The Baths accepts the multitudes that spill over and escape the grip of the Tri-Valleys, and the rest of the I-580 corridor. The snaking trickle of that leading edge of the water wiggles its way to the lower portion of the garden searching out the lowest spot until it settles in and begins to percolate.

The people seek out something else that is lower. They look to the farthest reaches of their tolerance for the car and settle into a community, only to leave it for most of the day, then return on the backs of their octane powered chariots to settle into the 2 month old home in a 100 year old City. Nearly half of its residents commute to the Bay every day to work. If your job takes you to the City, then that’s 4 hours of driving a day.

I could not do it.

I was thinking about that statistic for a moment. Cities like Los Banos, Santa Nella, Patterson, Tracy, they have evolved from the beginning due to the need for a place to stop, transportation could not get you to where you wanted to go fast enough and you would need to rest. The clop, clop of the horse gets old and you need to wash the dust off. Trading posts evolved to refill your 1-horse powered chariot, and your thirst for a little brown bag. Eventually people settled down and raised cattle and planted a few things. But still, it was just a stop and the growing stalled. As transportation got better, there was no need to stop, and over the years the vitality diminished as people drove on past. Everybody knows the story, but now, new life, a new beginning. Transportation (the car) has gotten so easy that you can live and commute to the farthest reaches of your abilities. These cities have grabbed hold of this and built their communities on the daily transients. It has interesting ramifications on a City, gone by day return at night. Families living their lives apart from each other, separate realities.

The Cities die by the car, and now live again by the car. The black strip of asphalt becomes the new lifeline to economic vitality.

The City keeps on growing, stretching its tentacles farther and farther out into the soil and wetlands making room for more babies and flowerpots. But now, they want the people to stay, planning business parks, industrial centers and community college campuses. The thought is, eventually they will break down, grow weary of the wretched commute and crave something close, something community, something more in the backyard. So the City keeps on planning. Lying pipelines underground to carry the waste, building water lines and treatment plants to quench the thirst of the weary traveler. Revitalizing the City center, waiting for them to stay, walk, and stroll. Reluctantly they finally let go and say goodbye to the high rise and the culture they so long have grasped to still be a part of.

Finally, again, the beginning of a new life, or so they hope.

Power-Tap vs. iBike

2007-10-16T06:01:00.000-07:00

So I am delving into the world of power measurement. Like I really want to see how much, or not enough power I can kick out when I try to turn them over.

Borrowed an iBike from my Brother who went over to Ireland for the year and decided to give his body a break. It’s one of those back calculate wattage sort of deals that takes into account wind speed, road angle, combined rider and bike weight, moon phase to take into consideration tidal forces on the earth’s gravitational field. Runs some sick algorithm to tell you how much pain your in.

So I strapped it on the handlebars a few weeks ago and have been riding around with it. I am a minimalist when it comes to having things strapped to my machine. I like the lines simple, clean and elegant. The less the better, so I wasn’t to impressed with the size of the thing, and there was no stem mount option which isn’t really that big a deal, but I like to run with the forearms on the bars sometimes and computers mounted there get in the way, and throw off my total one-ness with the position.

Then a good friend let me borrow a Power Tap, so I thought, “Lets run both and compare the wattage to see the difference.” Unfortunately, I don’t have the download cable yet for the PT, then I could do real comparison and get statistical and all that. I could manipulate the results to say whatever I wanted. Kind of like industry sponsored research projects.

Anyway, the PT is a much more streamlined unit with a stem mount option. The controls are very intuitive, unlike the iBike where you are risking certain death trying to navigate the controls without reading the instruction.

Just like any new piece of software, I like to try and operate it without looking at the instructions, if you can figure most things out by intuition, then I feel the designers have done a good job. But that is a minor point. The big question is how do the units compare. Which one gives me the most bang for the buck, so that I can try to squeeze out every last bit of sick wattage.

Well, I noticed that the iBike was approximately +- 50 watts to the PT when you got above 150, and when you check in at 185, it is pretty easy to hit that mark once the road tilts up even a fraction. The PT was much more stable with both running output ever 1 second. Plus the PT has virtual cadence, which I guess is pretty cool. I think the real issue is cost, $300, versus, over $1000 (you can get a PT brand new for $800 or so on Ebay).

Anyway who really cares, just something to occupy the mind when you are numbing it during intervals.

All this talk of wattage and output files, calculation time steps and the like. Dangaa……I feel like I am at work. I remember when I would just go out and ride for fun. Me and the crew from the hood would roll at 5:05 am and try to beat the living crap out of each other. Man, I remember having to get all psyched up for the morning. Eat right, go to sleep early, and roll out of bed at 4:20, cup of coffee, banana, and march down the gravel drive in my mountain bike shoes to clip in.

It was always a race, mostly smiling faces, but sometimes nerves would get frayed. The goal was to get some exercise, ride faster than last time and stomp on your buddy, generally have a good time. Man…..I loved those morning rides, they led me to race my bike again, and the quest to get faster became all encompassing. How can I use my time more wisely, get the most out of my miles. When you can’t train 15 hours a week, you need every advantage you can get to help out. So now I am staring down at this little yellow box and letting it guide me.

Most of the Brothers understand, and go along with it, some even love the intervals, sprint training and slow base miles.

But every once in a while, we all just let it rip……I have to say, it is pure fun. Just like I was six again, rolling down the street in cut-offs, checkerboard slip-on vans, and a sleeveless Hulk tee, bruised knees and dirt under the fingernails.

Racing feels like that. Whether it is 5:05 in the Old Fig hood, or 1:30 in some coned off industrial park. Crazy, mad, sick fun.

Later

Ask and You Shall Receive

2007-10-09T08:43:00.000-07:00

(Click to Inlarge)

The shot on the right shows the fractures in the iliac. You can see the break that runs all the way down and into the joint space (acetabulum). The break actually starts as two fractures that come together. The two breaks created a large floating piece that needed to be stabilized. The lower break on the pubic bone, you can't really see, the circle shows what I thought was the break but it is actually on the right side as well.

On the left you an see the hardware used to stabilize the breaks. A 4 inch plate across the top of the iliac arch that was attached with 4 screws and a long pin. The longer plate was placed to stabilize the break of the acetablulum. Doc Lindval used 5 screws to fasten that sucker.

October 29th

2007-10-05T07:08:00.000-07:00

This Tuesday will be eight weeks since surgery and Tracy has been progressing well. We finally went to her second post-op check up last Monday and things are looking good. She was released to drive and her time on crutches was cut by one week.

So the big day is now set at October 29th. No more freaking crutches, walker or wheelchair. There have been times when I thought Tracy was going to chuck them through the window. Be rid of the offensive aluminum sticks that have for the last 8 weeks become her surrogate appendages.

Although, at that point I will be at a certain disadvantage. You see, now I can hear her coming. The distinctive click, click, click of the crutches lets me know when she is rounding the corner. The one thing that has been plaguing her the last 5 weeks is post concussion vertigo.

It started in the middle of the night. Tracy woke me up and was panicking. The world was spinning and she was terrified. Like one of those drunken nights where you need to hang your foot off the side of the bed and place it on the ground to make everything better. That is until you end up puking all over the floor next to toilet, if you make it that far. It comes and goes, is the worst in the morning but sometimes lasts all day. She saw a neurologist yesterday and he said that in 90% of these cases it will go away in a couple of months. She is excited to start physical therapy and we have a clinic picked out that is owned and operated by a couple local riders. They do PT, and positional exercises that help with vestibular issues that cause vertigo.

It will be good for her to have an outlet, to push her body and sweat. We are really looking forward to the 29th. My B-Day is the 3rd of November, so everybody be thinking about what you want to get me. Tracy walking will be one of the best presents I could ever get. Although, a power tap would be a close second.

Ramblings

2007-10-02T05:43:00.000-07:00

My friend Brian Boudreau was hit by a car while going out to the 5:30 am ride two weeks ago. The lady that hit him was not looking and creamed him from behind. Fractured his femur in three places, broke 6 ribs, badly bruised his shoulder and punctured his lung.

Man…..what a bout of bad news we have faced lately. The secretary from the office got a call the other morning. Her 20 year old brother was killed while driving to work early on Monday. A good friend breaks the news that his wife has breast cancer, and a coworkers fiancé was in an automobile accident in Belfast and he had to jump on a plane Friday afternoon go take care of her.

Bad news rolling in like the tide, nothing can stop it. It just keeps on coming. Sometimes it is hard to find perspective.

I got an e-mail from someone close questioning why we ride bikes and weather it is safe. He is a rider and someone who has left the sport in the past, found the love again and has become addicted to it.

Ah the ride….roll out of the driveway and down the street, into the hills or across town. I have enjoyed the freedom for so long, it is hard to imagine life without it. How much caution do we need to take. Is it worth it?

I was having a conversation with Tracy the other day. We were discussing how every person we know who has been riding for any considerable length of time has been involved in some sort of crash. Racing, riding, training, crashing….they all seem to go together. Does it mean that we stop doing what we love, what makes us feel alive? Think about all the hours that all those people have spent on the bike. Hundreds of thousands of hours spent on the bike that not only create a healthy person, but also show your kids that a healthy lifestyle is good. Do you need to ride your bike to stay healthy? No….but who wants to spend all that time in the four walls of some club. Get out and feel the wind in your face.

I have a friend from Holland and she was telling me how they used to ride their bikes everywhere when they were younger. 10 miles to school, 6 miles to swim practice. In Holland….Think about the weather in Holland, partly cloudy with a little sun and a few showers is a great day. Now she tells me that her sister and brother in law have two cars and drive everywhere. Their kids are overweight. They drive everywhere, and gas is 8 bucks a gallon. They are both overweight. She thinks that wealth has made them lazy…..interesting concept. Have to think about that.

My last post was about the passion of it all, the need, the itch to get out and ride. How important is fulfilling that need in your life. I got a comment form a guy from Tucson about how his wife was thrown from a horse and spent two years recovering. They stopped risking, living, riding for a while and they realized that they felt dead inside. Irritated, frustrated. The most interesting thing was that the kids could feel it in them as well. They realized that living is better than cowering in fear.

Adrenalin can be addicting, but I am not talking about adrenalin. I am talking about feeling your body working, moving your muscles and getting out in the air and taking it all in. Feeling the sun on your face, close your eyes and feel it through your skin. Experiencing, living it, loving it.

For me it really comes down to this. Do you trust God with your safety? I am not saying test the limits or devote your whole life to it. I am saying you can’t be afraid to live. The fact remains, rain falls on everyone, and how you deal with it is the real question, the test. Adversity brings out the real person in you and it is so important to find out who that real person is.

Why do we crash and get hurt. Sometimes crap just happens, but sometimes the surgeon has to make a few cuts to fix the problem.

My 2 cents

15 to 1 Ratio

2007-09-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

So….. I have been working for a client down in Riverside County and we have monthly progress meetings in Lake Elsinore.

Take 4 flights:

Get up at 3:45 am jump in the shower and rush out the door at 4:20. Get to the airport at 4: 35 and grab my ticket for the 5:15 flight to San Francisco. Come around the corner and see a huge line for security. That’s ok….still got some time.

Hump……Waiting…..Dam this line is moving slow. There is a couple in front of me, looks like they are going on some trip to the City. Quarter to five, pitch black outside and she has got her visor on to shield her eyes from the glare. Tight grey turtleneck and black stretch pants.

I really shouldn’t talk. I lost my glasses two weeks ago and have resorted to wearing my prescription sunglasses in the office, at night, watching TV, in meetings. What a dork. Anyway,….This lady in front of me is obviously ticked that the line is taking so long…….grumble, grumble, grumble.

Wife: “This is awful”

Husband: shrug look over, “huh”

Wife: “Oh guy…..this is awful”

Husband: shrug look over, “huh”

Wife: “You know what this is like”

Husband: Shrug, “huh”

Wife: “This is like a colonoscopy first thing in the morning”

Nice. Instantly I have an all too vivid picture in my head of something I don’t want to be thinking about.

Wife: “What is taking so long, Is this lotion more than 3 ounces, what a pain”

Husband: Shrug and look away as if he has heard this griping for 30 years. In one ear and out the other.

We get up to the security boarding pass ticket checker person and she asks the couple for their tickets and ID’s.

Wife: This is awful…..we have been flying for years.

The ticket checker looks and gives her a smile like, “Shut up, I could care less, just move along and get going. It is people like you that make this whole process slower than it needs to be.”

Ticket Checker: Bye, Bye……Like that SNL skit with the flight attendants

Bye, Bye……Now get out.
So we keep moving along snaking through the line, you know the type. Up and down like at Disneyland. We get to the conveyor belts for the x-ray machine and I am faced with a decision. Right lane or left? Right looks good, but there are a couple of ladies struggling to take off their shoes. Left is the couple. The woman is still shaking her head.

I chose left, at least I will have some entertainment. Take off my shoes, get out the computer, take off the belt, remove any change. The couple in front is a zoo. She sends her carry on through but forgets her boarding pass.

Boarding pass…….

Wife: Oh…It is in my bag, this is awful.

She finally gets it and moves on through. By now the other line is moving like melted butter, but still I wait. Now it is the husband’s turn.

Boarding pass…….shuffle, shuffle. He digs it out of his pocket.

Please remove your jacket. Grumble, grumble, shuffle, shuffle

By now my flight is boarding. Finally, get through and run down the terminal. Reach the gate.

Passengers flight 6407 to San Francisco is delayed. Great.

It was only delayed for 10 minutes so I get to SF and make my connector to Ontario, get a ride down to Lake Elsinore and sit through a 1 hour meeting.

Time: 12:15. My flight leaves at 3:45 back to SF. Shuffle, shuffle, grumble, grumble. Go to lunch with the project manager from our Pasadena office. Lets just say there is not much to eat in Lake Elsinore.

Drive back to the airport and wait for an hour to catch the flight back to SF and then home. This guy comes up and stands against this wall where I am sitting and puts on his Bluetooth and starts talking to a buddy. There are tons of people around and he starts talking in this incredibly loud voice about everything he has been doing for the last couple of days. I don’t have a problem with someone having a discreet conversation in the background, but this guy was going into details that people really don’t need to hear about, complete with full on hand gestures and body movements to boot.

What was that phrase.......Too Much Information

Please, who really needs to here about your 30 minute facial and your 90 minute massage at the spa. I really don’t want to here about Jacky and how strong her hands are and how she really worked you. Please brother save it. I swear I was going to barf right on the spot.

Rolled into SF, grabbed a bento box and Sapporo and headed to my gate, jumped on the 6:00 CMB 120 and turbo propped back to the Berg.

Started my day at 3:45, I was in the car and heading home by 7:15.

15 hour day for a one hour meeting. Humm….something wrong with that picture. It still amazes me that we don't just teleconference. Face to face is how we need to do it. The old fashioned way. That way the client can see the consultant sweat. We live in a global economy and I am supposed to work efficiently with all this technology, but it still takes me 15 hours to complete a one-hour meeting.

Amazing.

Passion ....

2007-09-04T16:42:00.000-07:00

What is it worth?

The itch, the twitch, the need. What is it worth to love doing something? When you see someone you love hurt, broken, because of the passion. A game. The question ..........It comes around..................Not from me, but from others. You hear it in their voices, and they change the subject.

Do you continue?

I have never thought about stopping, the risk, the ......the ......Passion.

I have always been a overly competitive person. Hyper competitive. Toss in speed, arching turns and wind in the face. Rubbing elbows, going cross eyed and drooling. Ramp it up and throw down at 35, ...........BANG........hooked.

When I was younger there were many times when apologies flowed over competitive juice. Make or break friendships over a game. Rage, angst.....flex your muscles.....yell, scream and kick the cooler.

Sorry Man..........Heat of the moment. Some understand, some don't.

Years ago I learned that I was better, without the rage. Control is good, breath deep, focus on the moment.

Ball sport stopped being that years ago, but there has always been a need, a something to channel the competitive blood. For a long time climbing filled it, but in a different way. Pushing your limits while terrified. The battle was against yourself, mostly your own mind. Doing something that requires skill, strength, balance, precision all the while fighting your minds inner demons that chant at you to quit. Failure was terrifying at times, but when you conquer...................Nice

Climbing long routes in Yosemite was an all encompassing deal. Think about it for weeks before. Get mentally ready, prepare for the pain, the fear, the...............freedom that comes with the torture. Rise up above the trees and view the world in a whole new light. Find yourself in amazing places, experiences that shape you. But still......... climbing was the best when it was over.

There were times when I just didn't want to do it. Didn't want to get scared, fall, mix physical hardship with mental struggle. A long time climbing veteran described climbing in this way.

"Climbing isn't fun. Climbing is like being put in prison for seven days with a loaded gun to your head the whole time."

Some can do it at a high level forever, some can't.

Cycling and racing is the physical challenge with the mental edge. Without the fear.......I had been down that road and now I needed the fun. That is why cycling has become such a focus in my life. The need to push the body, to feel the power that the muscles can generate, yet challenge the mind. I looked for it.

I had found it again. Now...........Stop............it is hard to even think about.

The underlying tone.

The ones closest to me who understand........understand. I don't need to do it forever.....am I being a child here. A spoiled little brat.......I want, I need, I need.

How much is it worth to me?

Comes down to this. Is this what I am supposed to be doing? What does God need me to do? I AM asking the question, needing to know the answer.

I put this team together ( http://www.vaporracing.com/) and everything fell into place. Sponsors, riders, great base to build from. It all came together by design. It was an amazing thing to watch, to be a part of.

The wins rolled in....kept moving up. Now I am there and I want to see how I match up, spread the name of the club and get the The Word out.

I struggle with how stopping now makes sense. Now.......Stop Racing?

Is racing really what the team is about? I just can't seem to come to grips with the thoughts. Can't seem to decide now, don't really want to think about it now. The focus now is on healing and support. Health and strength. Think about the thoughts.

Interesting thoughts....

Another Day....Another.....Uh

2007-08-28T15:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we took Tracy to see the Doctor for her first post operative check up. It was her first trip out of the house since the trip home from the hospital. She put on a nice little top and some cute knickers.

I have to say she looked beautifully!

It was so good for her to get out of the house, to wear something other than a white v-neck tee and a pair of boxers.

The Doc was very upbeat and positive about the prognosis for her recovery. Tracy had a gazillion questions for him, and he was very patient and answered all thoroughly. The patients he displays is such a calming and reassuring quality. All Doctors should be such.

One thing he did note was that sex was ok...........Hum.......That's right...and I didn't even pay him to say it. I didn't even have to ask.....although I was thinking it.

Tracy's take......"Don't even think about it"

Shoot......

But seriously, it just means that the hip joint and the pelvis are healing and that the only thing that would delay recovery is if she took a fall. He did say that it would be the full 12 weeks before she could put any weight on the right leg, but that she can drive sooner.

She is feeling good and looking forward to getting out more and she is starting to miss the bike, which is a good sign.

Milestones Little and Big

2007-08-24T08:43:00.000-07:00

You know the feeling........warm drops start to hit, penetrating the tiredness that creeps into the bones. The methodical pounding of the aquatic masseuse.

Tracy took her first shower in 17 days yesterday. When I got home she looked refreshed, glowing.

The scale of any major task can more easily comprehended when it is broken up into smaller parts. The mind celebrates with each tick mark. Tick um off, one by one. With each step you are closer to the goal, whatever that may be.

Taking a shower was a milestone. Dr. Lindval wanted her to wait ten days after the surgery to let the incisions heal. Before you know it she was standing in the warm wonderfulness, soaking in all the healing power that water has. 17 days is not the longest she has gone. She spent 30 days in the back country of the Washington Cascade's without a shower, but that is a totally different animal.

Climbing the rungs of a 700 foot tall ladder, take a step up, revel, and look to the next one. With each you see more of what lay around you, the possibilities and the avenues of life in which to travel. Until finally you reach the top and choose the next journey through life.

Quote of the Day

I was taking Finn to school this morning. His favorite mode of transportation is what he calls the three wheel bike. We cruz past the cars at Shaw and Palm. Blast past the enormously long line up of mini vans and SUVs that wait to gain access to the Gibson Elementary parking lot.

"Daddy"

"Yeah"

"How come everybody is in cars?"

"Why aren't they on bikes, or motorcycles or in planes?"

"Well........sometimes you have more than one kid that needs to go to school, or you have lots of stuff"

"But Daddy....all the kids could ride bikes"

"............Well.......your right, they could"

Thanks Y'all

2007-08-21T05:26:00.000-07:00

I wanted to take a minute to say Thanks to all the folks out there who have taken the time to offer help, and provide support in so many ways. All the comments have been an inspiration to Tracy by just letting her know that her peoples are out there thinking about her.

She is doing well and improving everyday. She can get around fairly well with the walker or crutches and can get herself in and out of bed, in the words our of youngest Reed, "by her own self." The pain gets better everyday, and she says that now she can feel where the multitude of screws were placed in her pelvis.

It has been a week since the surgery and we still have a long way to go, but with improvement comes confidence and encouragement. On a side note, I am trying to get the before and after x-rays to show y'all the stainless steel bling-bling hardware. Stay tuned, hopefully this week.

On the Lighter Side

Finn started Kindergarten yesterday. We had been talking to him all weekend about it, and how he was going to meet his new teacher Mrs. Schnieder and learn how to read. All I have to say is parking was a bitch, had to walk a freaking mile. We were on time though.

Finn was apprehensive and didn't want to get out of the car, but with a little coaxing he walked the lonely mile to Gibson Elementary. The school has a great feel, and community atmosphere. PTA, parent volunteers, school tee-shirts, and all that cool kid stuff.

With all that has been going on, I haven't really had time to reflect on the magnitude of this day, the end and beginning of corresponding eras. The start of Finn's formal education (if you don't count pre-school). How will this experience shape him, and what influences will this have on him?

Interesting question.

I think back to what I remember about K-school. Fuzzy, hazy pictures come into my head. One stands out clear as a bell. This girl sitting next to me took a pee while sitting in the chair. I have to say.....that moment shaped who I am today. I keep reminding myself at work.....don't pee in your chair, don't pee in your chair.

I asked Finn how his day was.

"Daddy.......I missed you today."

"I missed you too"

He goes on to say in a quick, shrug the shoulders, turn and go play sort of way.

"I didn't learn how to read!"

Home.....Now What?

2007-08-17T06:08:00.000-07:00

Tracy spent most of Tuesday sleeping. Morphine does not really sit well on her stomach and every time she would wake up and try to talk or sit up she would get really pale and sometimes a little hint of green would come through. Small beads of sweat forming on her forehead. We got her off the morphine and onto the Vicodin, but even with the Reglan for the nausea she would still have to fight back the waves. Nausea can be so uncomfortable. That hot sweaty feeling, churning stomach, bile coming up and filling the back of the throat. Loads of fun to be had.

Wednesday Tracy woke up feeling better, but still fighting the Nausea. The other issue she had been dealing with was the dizziness. She had a CTscan at Saint Agnes to look for any subdural hematomas in the brain, but that came back negative. Turns out dizziness is normal for people who spend extended periods of time on bed rest. The blood pools in the lower extremities and when you sit up or change positions rapidly the heart can't get blood to the brain fast enough and you feel like you had one too many tequila shots. Spinning, swooping, oh the joy of it all.

The physical therapist came in around 9:30 and started working to get her up and walking. It was so good to see her sitting up in bed. For the last ten days she could not move her right leg without feeling intense pain, shooting pain from the muscles pulling on the fractures. Now the pain was different. Soft tissues needed to be manipulated and pushed aside to allow instruments and fingers to get in and tinker with the broken skeleton. Dr. Lindval made two incisions to gain access. He used the existing scar site from Finn's C-section and created a new 5-inch long incision along the top of her hip. Her muscles and soft tissues are very sore and she moves very gingerly to limit the pain that pushes through the pain meds.

By Wednesday afternoon she was sitting up and making her way to the bathroom, very slowly. She tires very quickly as her blood volume is very low from the surgery. Hemoglobin is measured and expressed in terms of grams per deciliter (gm/dl) of whole blood volume. Adult women have a normal range of 12 - 16 gm/dl. After Tracy's accident her hemoglobin was 13.5, which was good, and meant she did not have much internal bleeding. On Wednesday morning her hemoglobin was 9.2 gm/dl. Then by Thursday it was down to 8.7. If somebody went out and tried to ride at a high intensity with those hemoglobin levels, it would be a humbling experience. Throw in 10 days of bed rest and.....well....I think you can figure it out. She grew extremely tired after a few steps and her arms were shaking from using the walker.

We were really looking forward to getting out of the prison that had been our reality for what seemed like a year, and my shoulders were really taking a beating from the trampoline that was my bed for the last week. I say that, but realize that our stay is nothing compared to what others have had to deal with. We are taking about orthopedic reconstruction of Tracy's hip and pelvis so she can have a normal health life. Normal health life....What a luxury...What a blessing. I saw people waiting to see if there loved ones were going to live. What about brain tumors, or cancer, or organ transplants. I can't even imagine having to sit and watch the closest people in your life struggle through that not even knowing if they are going to be alive. Forget about normal......how about alive.

We take it all for granted so easily. In a flash our reality changed. One second and everything changes. It forces you to view things in a different light, to see outside your tiny little world. Things that were once so huge, so important ......just aren't. I know as we get back into the swing.....my mind is already thinking about all the things I need to deal with at work, the hundreds of e-mails I need to wade through, this perspective will fade, but I hope it doesn't.

Tracy's was discharged on Thursday at 1:00 pm. It was interesting getting her in the car, good thing I am an engineer. I knew it would pay off one day. She squinted from the bright sunlight and the warm air felt foreign on her skin. We headed home with crutches, walker, and wheelchair in tow, and she asked me to cut the hospital bracelets off of her wrist to remove all physical memories from her body, and for the boys.

Now What?

Tray will have 8-12 weeks of non-wight bearing recovery. That means she cannot put any weight on the her hip, no walking without the help of our new aluminum friends, and no driving until we can be sure the fractures are totally healed. Seems like this trip has just started. Like we are driving to New York and we just reached Madera. But just like anything......it will end. The world just keeps on spinning and chemistry does its work. Slowly building new bone, super gluing her back together. Building the glue that binds our family together. Life would be so boring without adversity, struggle, to battle for what seems important at the time. Just got to keep on rolling on.

Pre-Op all the way to Post-Op

2007-08-14T17:07:00.000-07:00

They woke us at 6:30 am……

You going to surgery? Huh…..Well……you tell me.

Can you still have babies?

What?

We need to do a pregnancy test on her!

This guy reminded me of a modern day pirate complete with thin dyed black mustache. Dark glasses, scrubs covering his Raider Nation tattoo. Tracy asked if the doctor would see us before the surgery. Yeah….who’s your doctor?

Dr Lindval.

Oh….yeah he’s real good. He will come and see you,...yeah.

He leads us over to the new section of the Hospital. The trauma center here at CRMC is a brand new $280 million building with state of the art operating facilities and trauma ER. Very nice. We move over from the old building into a walkway that connects the two buildings and the change is obvious. We move through automatic doors past signs that read; Authorized Personnel Only, Hospital Staff Only beyond this point and in to the Pre-Operation Room.

The Pirate shows me where the waiting room is. I get into the Pre-Op and he motions, come on back here. I am going to hide you back here. If they kick you out you can go to the Pre-Op Conference Room. Tracy was glad that I was there. I could tell she was nervous. She was not saying much and would just grab my hand, and give a gentile squeeze.

Pre-Op reminds me of an auto shop garage with stalls along each wall where the broken, battered, and sick come in and the human mechanics grab tools from the tool boxes of medical supplies. Patients’ come in are checked out, pasted with electrodes, and educated before going in. They are asked the same questions they have been asked a gazillion times before.

“Are you allergic to any medications?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

"What side are you hurt"

"Bike wreak huh"

The anesthesiologist came in. Young guy, probably younger than me.

Did you have a big breakfast? Funny guy, asking trick questions.

Dr Lindval comes in…….what a striking figure. 6’ 4” handsome, super fit guy with a shaved head. Very calm, reassuring manner.

Do you have any other questions? Should take a couple of hours, and I will come and find you when we are through.

They gave me the boot…..sent to the surgery waiting room. Grabbed some coffee….super strong brew. The bitter aroma tingling the senses. Wish I had a little more sugar. The Coffee is better here than at Saint Agnes, but the food is worse. They serve Seattle’s Best, but they do not have any half and half. Un-freaking believable.

Head back to the waiting room. It is a surreal situation. I sit here typing and chatting with Tracy’s Mom and my dad. I can hear the drills in my head and envision the plates used to pull the bones back together. Sometimes I imagine how hard this situation must be for the families that are waiting for a loved one with a brain tumor or some other life threatening situation. Tracy’s situation is nothing compared to that, I have to keep telling myself that. She has been bound to the hospital bed for 8 days and sometimes I catch myself thinking she can just jump up walk around.

It has been 2 and a half hours now and still no word…….

3 hours now and still nothing……..Man how the waiting makes the mind wonder…….surf the web, talk with Dad, but eventually the silence comes and you are left with just your mind. Wondering…….thinking….the mind can do things to you. You start thinking and bad things enter in……heart starts going and you feel the blood pumping in you head. Thump, thump…….push the thoughts out……this is a complicated thing…..no need to rush…..please take you time and do the job right. I want to go get some more coffee or water or something, but I know as soon as I leave the Doc will come out and I will miss the debriefing. Can’t let that happen. Got to take a piss…….will just take a second, but can’t leave………

More waiting….wondering…..thinking……praying…….sweaty feet…..I wonder if my sandals are starting to smell. Annoying health watch TV blabbers out a constant drone of health tips, don’t smoke, Medicare health plans, and what do they cover? Blaa…Blaa….Blaa …..Urgent care……blaa….blaa….blaa…..don’t smoke….blaa….blaa….blaa….what makes a good nurse? O God please shut that thing up……

More waiting……3.5 hours now…….I think I will look at the classified pages or velonews or something.

4 hours now…..what the hell is going on in there……This was supposed to be a 2 hour deal now we are double that. This could mean they read my mind and are taking their time…..slowly making progress and making sure everything is as they would like……..precise, detailed, meticulous work that is completed perfectly.

The mind is your worst enemy in this situation……shake out the bad thoughts…….shake them out and roll with the tough times…….relax, breath, close your eyes and visualize the end of this ordeal. Visualize Tracy home with the kids sitting on her lap soaking up her love and indulging in all that she is as a mother.

Doc and his team finally come out, meet my Dad, Char les and Cindy, and of course the Nance. Everything went fine, he tells us and he walks us back to a monitor so we could see the X-Rays…..All I can say is freaking wild, amazing, unbelievable,…..long chain like plates and 4 or 5 long screws holding her together. She had a large floating triangular piece in her hip that needed to be stabilized.

They placed a plate across the top of her hip on the inside that holds the top pieces together. A plate, or more like a long strap extends down along the inside of the pelvis. This plate has several screws along its length that pull the separated halves of the hip together at the joint. It also extends left to the location where the fracture was in her pubic bone. The two halves of the pubic bone were separated and the plate stabilizes the lower portion of the pelvic ring.

It is amazing the damage that was done by that crash. 25+ mph straight to the ground slammed hard. I still remember vividly when I first got to her on the ground at Timpani. She made this funny face. I asked her if she was ok and she said….I don’t know, something feels wrong in my hip …….You could say that again.

Now she is back in her room, sleeping, breathing deep, IV drip and three bandages covering the incisions. She has a closed wound suction evacuator to keep fluid from building up in her incision sites. Pain is the word of the day and Tracy is ready and willing to take the pain medications. Morphine is the drug of choice along with Reglan (sp?) for nausea.

I can hear her deep breathing from my squeaky fold-up cot and I hope she sleeps the rest of the day. Sleep, sleep….sleep little angel and wake up ready to take recovery by the horns and wrestle it to the ground. Beating this beast that has unwantingly consumed our lives....become our hourly reality....Slowly we will take it back.

CRMC

2007-08-13T16:58:00.000-07:00

Tracy was transferred to Community Regional Medical Center in downtown Fresberg on Sunday. Community, as it is called, is quite different from Saint Agnes, as Community is the only major trauma emergency room in the area.

The place is the revolving door of hospitals. In the 24-hours we have been there, 5 different people have been in the room next to Tracy's. Lots of people that are in bad shape, moaning, bleeding, cursing, and black eyes.
Different than the joint replacement center at SA, where operations and hospital beds are scheduled and the place is a virtual ghost town on the weekend.

We have met with Dr. Lindval and his PA Simon, and both are very nice and have an easy going relaxing manner. They have explained the procedure in detail. They will go in with two incisions and work from both to get at the fractured pelvis. They estimate that 3 or 4 plates will be required to bring the 4 fractures together and allow the bones to heal.

They have seen worse and Simon stated they do 1 to 2 of these operations a week. The recovery will require 8 to 12 months of non-weight bearing recovery. Tracy will be able to get around with a walker or crutches. Dr Lindval said she will be able to do everything she was doing before, but not for about 6 months.

The whole gig goes down Tuesday at 8:00 am. Tracy is nervous and ready to get it over and get on with the healing.

We feel fortunate that we were able to find Dr Lindval and his staff right here in The Berg. Turns out the dude is one of the best at this type of doctor magic. After the fiasco that was Friday there was sun on Saturaday. It is amazing how that guiding hand can shape and change things to go along with the plan. The hardest part is just letting go, rolling with the hard times, and letting it play itself out.

Will let yall know how she is after going under the knife.

Tim

Frustration Station

2007-08-11T18:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was by far one of the most frustrating days of my life. Punch the wall, throw a chair, head against the wall……thump, thump, thump. Scream in the phone and then plead for forgiveness because you know that Tracy’s fate lies in the hands of this faceless voice who controls your life. So nice……, “I can hear your frustration, what a frustrating situation, I am so sorry.” Until you have been faced with this there is no possible way you can know what this is like.

I would listen to people talk about insurance companies with distain and think…hum? Frustration so deep and disappointing that it is hard to believe that this is the reality.

“You have no out of network benefits”

“Yes I do, with a Primary Care Physician’s referral”

“That is only for outpatient consultation”

“We had a consultation, he looked at the CT scans, and made a decision to have surgery”

“You didn’t actually see him”

“How am I supposed to get her there. I can’t transport her with Insurance approval”

“I don’t know”

“Ok….Since the Hospital is in Network, we will pay for the Doctor’s fees and you will cover the Hospital.”

“Can’t do that, cause you are seeing an out of network doctor”

“It is two separate bills”

“Still can’t”

“Ok…you say you have a Doctor at UCSF, Who is It?”

“Well I called up there and asked if anybody could do this type of Surgery, and apparently Dr. Reis can.”

“Wait….wait…..can or has?”

“I don’t know”

“WHAT?……I have a Doctor, who is a world class guy scheduled to operate on Tuesday, at a network Hospital, and you want me to go see somebody who MAY be able to do this. With no guarantee that he will even take Tracy on as a patient?”

“You are going to have to call back when you are more calm.”

“Click”

Call back……please, please answer……

“Sorry….I am under a lot of pressure here.”

“I know….I am so sorry. I know this is frustrating.”

Really, do you, tell me how you know. My wife has been lying in a hospital bed, can’t move without pain, scheduled to have surgery and you want me to go find somebody else that may be able to do it.

“Thanks”

“You could try Santa Clara Valley Hospital, they have a good rehab center.”

“Do they have a doctor that can perform this type of surgery?”

“I don’t know”

On and on….battling, fighting. Frustration …..crying, wondering.

What now? Talked to Eric and we decided to work out a deal with Saint Johns and Dr Matta for a cash deal to get the operation done. Then try to get something out of the insurance company later. Go to their office and start shooting……make the nightly news.

Breaking News…..Husband goes postal and blows up insurance office……then goes down in flames……..Mother F’rs.

Talked with Tracy and decide we would bite the bullet and pay for it, how ever we could……go into to debt, get some help….whatever. She is worth every penny. Tried to sleep…woke up at 3:00 am thinking of lawsuits and doctor bills and my beautiful wife laying in pain……and most importantly getting her fixed. It is amazing that we have to devise a plan, a way to make it work.

Morning……..

Got a call from Nancy, a good friend called and asked if we had thought of using Dr. Eric Lindval from Community Medical Center in Fresno. Man….I don’t want to go down that road…..Well…. call her and ask her if he does this sort of thing……What are the chances? Not very good…only a few people do this types of surgeries.

Waiting………..

Tracy’s Dad Charles and his wife Cyndi come in around 8:00 am. Their son-in-law, Rubin, is in the medical field and works down south. He sent out an e-mail to some colleges asking if there are any other doctors out there that have trained under Dr. Matta. He calls back…….Dr. Lindval has worked under Matta and is the head of the Regional Medical Trauma Center here in the Berg.

Ok…….Hanson and Dr. Thomas discuss it and they agree that he has a very good reputation and is capable and qualified to perform the operation……we get on the phone, and Hanson gets a call…….a brief synopsis of Tracy’s situation ensues and he agrees to look at her films…….we get a copy run them down to community and hand them off………now we wait……more waiting……oh God the waiting is just killing me.

Waiting……what will he say…..can he do it….the benefits are obvious….Surgery in Fresno……no long hard transfer, Dr Hanson can help with the management. But if not….we go to Santa Monica and pay cash.

Waiting…..Try to sleep…..More cafeteria food. Not bad here at Saint Agnes…….I have the coffee routine down….Styrofoam cup, two creamers and a purple plastic stir stick.

3:45 pm

Got the call from Hanson…….Surgery with Lindval on Tuesday.

More to come later.

Saint Johns Hospital

2007-08-09T15:32:00.000-07:00

Got a call from Eric today and Tracy needs to go down to Saints Johns Hospital in Santa Monica and have reconstructive pelvic surgery. She will be transferred on Friday and have surgery early next week.

Stupid Bike Racing!......

Momma!! We Love You!!

Tracy!

2007-08-06T21:50:00.000-07:00

Sunday that dreadful feeling finally came....the one that comes but flys away so quickly once you finally see her in the group. They went by all gaped and looking like a bunch of club riders that don't know how to ride in a line. But this time she was not there.

As many of you know Tracy and Katie Norton crashed out of the Timpani Crit last Sunday. They were setting up with five laps to go and really pushing the pace. The field was being shred to pieces when a rider in front of Katie swerved and there was a touch of wheels and she went down. With no place to go Tracy collided with Katie and was thrown down hard on her right side smashing her helmet and taking a hard shot to her right hip.

Tracy was taken to El Camino Hospital in Mt View where they diagnosed her with a pelvic fracture (one xray taken from the front) and sent on her way after a dose of morphine. She was still in incredible pain and was screaming bloody murder as the hospital techs lifted her into our car. The drive home was rather uneventfully, but once home I still didn't know how we were going to get her in the house and on the bed. Any movement sent shock waves of excruciating pain into her right hip. Tracy's mom drove down to the Fig Garden Fire Department and brought back three extremely helpful fire fighters to help with the task. We lowered all the seats in the Toyota and brought a backboard in from the back. Using the sheet still underneath her from El Camino we lifted her onto the backboard and carried her into our room and on the bed.

With a full prescription of Vicodin in hand she began to sleep the next day away as I scrambled to get her x-rays to our orthopedic Surgeon and friend Eric Hanson. By Monday evening he had taken a look and I knew from his voice we had just begun the process. An ambulance picked her up and she was admitted to the hospital on Tuesday morning. CTscans, X-rays, and blood work ensued.

General surgeon, frequent participant in the Tuesday morning world championships, and all around good guy, Ming Lee was notified by Eric of our status and he was there to evaluate the results of the blood work and to take a first look at the pictures. It is important to look at what is happening inside since many pelvic fractures result in internal bleeding and damage to the GI track and bladder. Often times these type of injuries result in an Illeus, or a general shut down of the GI track that can limit the ability to digest and process fuel.

Ming came in and the first thing out of his mouth was, "oh Man, what a hit, how fast were you going?"

I am thinking, "This is not good."

Ming goes on to explane that Tracy has multiple complex fractures of her pelvis that may require surgery and transport to a specialist at Stanford or some other far away land.

Ok....

I am sent over to Eric's office and together with Dr. Thomas, their PA and Cat 2 racer Greg Mellor, we start going over the X-ray's and CT Scans. She has broken her Iliac crest from the top all the way down to the asetabulum (hip socket) leaving a huge gapping space. She has also fractured her pubic bone, or the lower portion of the pelvic ring. The combination of the breaks creates an unstable situation that may need to be repaired with surgery. She is in an extreamly fragile position. Surgery would definitely be required if the cup that holds the femur (asetabulum) was offset, or uneven. If the bone is allowed to heal in the offset position major issues arise. Fortunately this is not the case with Tracy, but the instability of the Iliac may require some work.

So I ask, "What are we going to do?"

A flurry of conversation ensues and ideas, discussion and thoughts spoken aloud are shared, "What about Motta?"

The guru of hip reconstruction (Joel Motta) works out of Santa Nella Hospital down in So Cal.

How are we going to get to him?

A rep that happens to be at Saint Agnes Hospital in Fresno works directly with him and a meeting was arranged to get the films to him and he would get them to Motta to advise on the possible options.

So Tracy sits and waits.........in the Hospital for two days now, we should know her fate tomorrow afternoon.

I will report on what happens in the next couple of days.

There have been a few requests for our address to send thoughts and encouragements. They are all appreciated.

Thanks

Tim

505 E. Swift Ave

Fresno, CA

93704

Don't Stop this Train

2007-07-31T16:09:00.000-07:00

This morning on the AM ride of Destruction i had my white phones in and was grooving to take my mind off the thousandth time riding up to the store. Attacked at the base of bubble gum and was really motoring. G Mellor was behind me. I am really working.....sweating, breathing and my legs were full and looking ready to explode when I here G....." Keep this pace" He sounds like he is barely breathing hard. Can't do and pull out....Stone can't pull through and I get back on the front to keep at it. The rest of the crew are long gone......although i couldn't even look back. My heavy breathing would have blown me over if I had looked back. Turn the corner and G says....."Now accelerate"...What.....Dude I am going full gas........OTB.

Anyway.....we are heading back and John Mayer comes on.....Acoustic Guitar....Stop this train.......I look up and see 7 or 8 guys in front. Legs spinning in sync.....spinning, chugging.....motering.....Wide smile......Don't Stop this train. What an analogy for life......can't stop the train....we just keep chugging along. Hows the ride?

Stop this train....i want to get off and go home again

I can't take the speed its moving in.

I know I can't, but honestly won't someone stop this train

So scared of getting older

I am only good at being young

I play the numbers game

to find a way to say that life is just begun.

Love is the only thing that seems to freeze time and make us forget it all

This Chicken not from Foster Farms

2007-07-25T16:01:00.001-07:00

I love bike racing. It is in my blood. Clean, pure, blood with hematacrit of 42. Could never win the tour with that, but who could. Not with guys like the Chicken racing. Today he was pulled and deep down I knew that dude just wasn't right. No telling what or who is in his blood. I have to say it is sad, but it seems that now people are getting serious about this whole doping deal.

I say, "kick them all out forever."

Nice!!

2007-07-19T10:47:00.000-07:00

Super Sexy!!!!

Moving On

2007-07-18T12:47:00.000-07:00

There comes a time when you know your ready…..when things feel right and the place your at seems to not. Moving on to other things to other experiences. This is a context in which many events in life can be placed. Many important places; Job, City, Girl/Boyfriend…….Important steps, decisions in ones life. Racing your bike may not seem like something that falls into this category and require such perspective, but when you can’t shake it out of your mind, it never lets go and you find yourself visualizing the race weeks before it happens, you know what place it has in your life………The Passion…….The addiction…….the need. David Walsh put it this way,

"The severity of the sport examined a man's character, illuminating his nobility but also addressing his baser instinct. Perhaps most of all, it offered a challenge that allowed man to transcend his everyday self."

Sunday caused me to do something on Monday I have thought about since I was a kid. Moving on…. up to see how fast they really are. The first time I saw a bike race I knew it was for me, eventually. It took 20 years to get to the point where I was comfortable enough to deal with the pain of training and racing. When I was 12 and did my first bike race I was dropped. The next one…dropped. Dropped, Dropped, Dropped.

Up to that point I had been doing open junior races and competing against kids 4 to 6 years older than me. Men amongst boys, beards and all, sweaty dudes racing against me, the skinny kid. Then I went to Snelling and did a 12-14 junior race. I remember riding in the pack, listening to the riders shout at each other, rubbing wheels, and standing on the pedals as we rolled up the smaller hills, the group, the people at the start finish yelling…….it could have been just 10 people, but the noise was deafening. I remember feeling good. I remember thinking about setting up on the outside coming around the last turn and launching with 100 meters to go……..Throw my arms up and releasing the frustration of a years worth of getting dropped. F’n A that felt good. I still remember it vivid, fresh, yesterday, implanted in my memory…….See the mark and go….don’t hold back, go with everything you got…….after the line… spent, overjoyed, blown….what a rush.

You see the line coming, nothing else, nobody around, you might as well be all by yourself. Last Sunday it happened again, except this time I knew, I had been visualizing it all week, thinking about it, living it over and over again in my mind. Wait, wait…see the line and go…don’t hold back, pull with your arms, put your head down and explode. But…….. this time it was as if I had already done it….seen it, experienced it, expected it. I knew……….Time to move on.

Now the hard part begins, the pain starts and the suffering will be inevitable. Before, I knew I had a chance to win every time I lined up, now, I must be satisfied with small things, little accomplishments, and when or if that moment ever comes again……It will feel just like it did so many years ago ……..after the line spent, overjoyed, blown….what a rush.

iphone

2007-07-12T10:22:00.000-07:00

So.......I got one and I have to say it is pretty sweet. The phone has excellent sound quality and the photo/email/web browser/ipods doohickeys are all great. Now I am going to be taking pictures and blabbing on the phone all day. Hopefully I can get some work done.

Its amazing

2007-07-10T13:10:00.000-07:00

What a few cars can do. After getting dropped by Greg on the Casino Hill....Again....we were rolling back from the store today on the Tuesday morning suffer fest. Coming down Auberry....you know the stretch.....long as the summer is HOT...need to look two or three times to make sure you don't go too early. Yeah that stretch........Brian B, took a nasty pull at 35 and I kept trying to shift down, but, behold, I was already in the 11. I wish these went to 10......

I was thinking "B" your an animal. Jumped around Stone and Britter and rolled across the line at 39.2.....fastest sprint ever......I was feeling pretty good until I remembered that about 15 cars blew past us at that moment and I was simply getting sucked along

Well......felt good anyway.

Ah...to dream

Cathy Lynn Loper

2007-07-06T06:09:00.000-07:00

59 years ago today the world changed forever for me. An event that went unnoticed by the world.....as most do, but this event has changed the lives of many. I don't really know much about that day.......it must have been warm...it is July 6th. Fitting.......warmth and comfort have come to many.

She came from an interesting background....eccentric uncaring parents that baffle us to this day. But somehow it seems at times ......Or..... I have to wonder..... can anybody care more. Nights when I would try to fall asleep, she would come in and rub my back until my eyes would get heavy and sleep would finally invade my mind.

She saved me and my brothers from adversity time and time again....grabbing us and shaking in her gentle motherly way until we would come to our senses. Though the years as all three of us wandered aimlessly through life.......my father would wonder what he could do to get us on the right track............."Jim.......The lord will deliver." She would say. It is amazing to me, now, what faith she has. Nothing means more to her than her family, yet she would leave our fate in the hands of the Lord. Always knowing we would come around. Have we?

I often think of her living in a tiny military shack in Saint John....a young beautifull girl....following my father wherever he needed to go.

She could be doing so many other things now....whatever she wanted, but her priorities are still the same......they have never changed. She is a lover of her familly......caring and wanting to help.....giving more than she needs, but never asking for praise. She is a great lady.

I love you Mom

Happy Birthday

Freedom

2007-06-29T14:01:00.000-07:00

Break the chains that bind us - My oldest son took his first pedal strokes without training wheels the other day. It was, for me, and for him liberating.

Lean into the turns.......ramble through the dirt. Crash, breath, laugh.......feel the wind in your face ....... smile as you keeping turning them over and over.

I have to say....it was....a glorious moment.

"Do you want to take them off?".......Pause....think......Yeah!!!! Out comes the wrench, hand in the back pocket waiting in anticipation. Screaming ...come on Finn!!!....use me!!....break those chains.....lets fly.

Ok.....Now.....just pedal.....with the push of my hand firmly on his seat, away he went..... riding...little legs spinning in a blur, around the corner and gone.....into the rest of his life.

Framed - Bio-Gas Man

2007-06-25T12:43:00.000-07:00

I feel so fortunate to be sooo loved at work. My coworkers created this personalized comic for me. Although.......I don't get it ....I think they are trying to tell me something.

So.....

2007-06-20T16:49:00.001-07:00

So I work with this guy EC......He is a Stanford Guy, and that is ok, but...... you know....there is something a little weird about those Cardinals. Aggressive....edgy, chin scratches. They always are trying to find the best way to get ahead.

Now Cal folks on the other hand are smooth....relaxed, mellow thinkers....who find the time to take it all in.

Mooooving Week

2007-06-19T14:59:00.000-07:00

Escrow closes on our house at the end of the week. Need to be out by Friday. Lots still to do.....how about.... have barely started. Sad to think of not being at 556 Funky Hat, but need to move on. Kids are running us out.....running circles....can't do a dang thing in the old place without somebody else knowing about it.

What is next.......Move into Nancy's house for a week, then into the my sister in law's mothers house for a month......then into my brother in laws place for a year while they are over in Irish Spring Land on a 12-month Holiday. ...Oh Man. Crazy times. Moving... all the while being surrounded by Little Pirates. Swashbucking little monkeys running amok pillaging the fruit from the refer.......

Scramble

2007-06-13T12:23:00.000-07:00

Today is crazy....scrambling, just needed to take a minute to cool down....driving, meeting, e-mails, previewing, signing, eating, calling, peeing, drinking eating.........start again.

Need to finish a report, that needed to be done last week!

2007-06-12T16:53:00.001-07:00

Got back on the Bike today....and have to say it felt goooood. 10 days...no riding. Pushing the pedals down......just went for a ride no training program no heart rate monitor no intervals...just RIDING. I remember when I used to just get on the bike and ride as hard and as fast as i could....every time. Of course I only rode two to three times a week, but that's ok.

Raced a City truck up the hill in the park...nice little kicker...rolling...love to look over and see the look on dudes face....What the F%&K......priceless.

2007-06-12T16:52:00.001-07:00

Ok....This is Post number 1