Monthly Archives: August 2007

Keep Swinging.

This is supposed to be Gear Friday – I even have a really killer piece of gear lined up to tell you about – but then life happens.

Life happens and gets big. People fill me and my chest expands. I entertain reminder after reminder of our frailty.

At 7:34am I have to stop reading email. There is a switch inside of me that flips when I feel the lump in my throat forming. One email links to my cousin’s journal on her CaringBridge Site, in which she asks for prayer for her two year old daughter, ‘Tana. The baby girl goes in for surgery today to have her entire lung removed in what is to be the final, last-ditch effort to rid her of the cancer that threatens to take her life.

I don’t pray. Continue reading

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Filed under dealing, life, motivation, Uncategorized

Putting Boot Camp Fitness to the Test: First Cyclocross Ride

Sal and I headed out to Forest Park last night for my first cyclocross ride of the year. Actually, it was my first ride of any kind in about 8 weeks. I was a little nervous – recalling my first ride up Thurman last year – how I gasped and sputtered and generally almost blew up. Seriously, it was a little embarrassing.

Last year, I ran all year. When I hit ‘cross season, I’d just finished running the Hood to Coast. I felt like I was in pretty good shape. I wasn’t too worried.

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Filed under boot_camp, cycling, cyclocross, fitness, racing, training, Uncategorized

SnarkyPants Rides Again: A Bicycle Commuter Once More

When I left my job in downtown Portland, one of my former co-workers asked me if I missed riding my bike into work everyday. I answered honestly.

“Nope.”

Why would I want to make a 3 mile commute to a place that completely stressed me out? Truth be told, on most days my ride into work was the only part of the workday that I enjoyed. That tended to make the whole bike commuting thing a little bittersweet.

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Filed under bikes, cycling, life

Watch and Learn, Little One (The Best 30th Birthday Present Yet)

Sometimes the best birthday presents come from the least expected places.

Sunday, the best birthday present came from the opposite field.

My party on Saturday was a smashing success. I had friends in from far and wide – we drank and ate and made merry. My best friend Maggie’s parents showed up late in the night, after attending a Gordon Lightfoot concert. They were in fine form and demanded dancing music while her father sipped a vodka-redbull and her mother downed white wine and told us about her old “tequila days”. Sal bought cakes from the best bakery in Portland and the crowd delivered a well-lubricated version of “Happy Birthday” in the light of thirty blazing candles.

It went well.

I went to sleep, woke up, ate a helluva a hangover breakfast, drank two killer bloody marys, and then remembered I had batting practice that evening.

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30 Years Old and Faster Than Two Scalded Pigs

I turned 30 yesterday.

It was one of the best days of my life.  Nothing particularly special happened.  I got up, went to boot camp (they sang to me), spent the day working and running errands for the party we’ve planned for Friday, had a happy hour drink at a hip little spot in town, came home, and went to bed.

But the day was marked by an all-encompassing feeling of dominance and ownership: “Hell yeah! I’m thirty!”

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I Don’t Look Good in Purple. I have proof.

To be honest, I hate purple. And pink.

Pink more than purple, but that’s beside the point. Nevertheless, purple turned out to be lucky in the tournament this past weekend (my team has a choice of either red or purple uniforms).

Since my camera body is in the shop (it died while I was shooting a wedding last weekend – I’m not kidding), I loaned my paparazzi lens (Canon’s EF IS 70-200mm/f2.8) to Suzanne, who got some shots of me and the other Purple Crusaders in action:

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Attack of the 200 Pound Wall

It’s the top of the 7th and we’re tied 3-3 in the championship game. Julie has just driven a scorching line drive up the middle for a lead-off single.

After a demoralizing 0-for-Saturday showing, my bat has finally come ’round and I step into the box with a mission to drive something down. Pop-outs equal instant rally death, and we are in big-time need of a rally.

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