Cycling Love

This weekend was a great weekend for cycling. Kat and I went for a nice 10 mile ride on Saturday. The weather was really warm for January, I think it got up to 58 degrees while we were riding, and the sun even popped out a few times. We rode primarily on the B2B trail heading toward Ann Arbor and came back the same way. This is all very new for Kat, but she did really well and said she wants to go farther and faster in the future. 

On Sunday Forrest and I participated in the Worst Day of the Year ride that was put on by Wheels in Motion. It was a 20 mile ride that started in Downtown Ann Arbor and went to Ypsilanti and back via Gallup Park, St Joes Hospital, Superior Road, Geddes, Earheart, Glacier Way, Greed Rd, Due Varen, and back into downtown via Pontiac Trail and Plymouth Rd. It was colder than Saturday and there was no sun at all. In fact there was a lot of fog, but it really didn't qualify for the worst day of the year. It was in the mid 40's which is still crazy warm for January. We got to see some friends we haven't seen in a while, and once we got out of the downtown area, we rode at a pretty solid pace of about 14-16 mph. We averages 12.5 mph overall for the ride. 

Of course no ride would be complete without a mechanical failure. As we were riding to the starting point I stood up on the pedals and my left crank arm stripped and the pedals were no longer at a 180 degree angle from each other, but at a 90 degree angle. When we got to the ride starting point, I found the mechanic from Wheels in Motion and he got to work on the crank arm. The ride started as we were getting the bike worked on. I told Forrest he could go ahead if he wanted, he said no, he came to ride with me. The mechanic was able to get the crank arms lined up, and he said it would probably get my through the ride as long as I didn't push too hard on the pedals, but the arm was stripped, so it needs to be replaced. 

We debated about whether to do the 20 mile ride or go on the shorter ride instead. As we were talking about it, a small group said they were going to go catch up the 20 milers and we decided to go with them. They started riding on the sidewalks and headed off in the wrong direction, so we didn't stay with them long, but within a mile or two we caught up with the main group of riders. We rode at a pretty moderate pace staying in line with the riders until we got out of the downtown area. Once we got through Gallup, we broke away and caught up with some of the people we knew. As we headed back to Ann Arbor we hit a number of hills, and it was really challenging since I couldn't get out of the saddle and had to work hard to keep my pedal strokes as even as possible. 

When we started the ride, there wasn't anywhere to go to the bathroom. I really had to pee, but since we were already behind, I figured I would stop at Gallup Park after we caught up. When we got to Gallup, Forrest and I broke away from the group to head to the bathroom, but they were closed for the season. The next ten miles were even more challenging because I really had to go and there were a lot of hills. Then like a miracle, we were riding on Due Varen road, and there was a cleared dirt area where it looked like they were building a subdivision. In the middle of the dirt was a port-a-jon. Forrest and I both cheered as we crossed a bunch of gravel and saw that it was unlocked. The last five miles of the ride were much more pleasant, and we finished feeling really good. We decided to skip the after party and we all stopped at the grocery store on the way home, so we could get what we needed for a spaghetti dinner. Kat made us her awesome spaghetti and we finished a wonderful day in the best way possible. 

I guess that was a pretty long intro, but I wanted to talk about cycling through the years. When I was young cycling was a big part of my life. My dad used to ride his bike to work quite often. Being the seventies, there wasn't such a thing as Kevlar tires, so my mom would have to go pick him up a number of times when he would get a flat tire. I don't really remember my first bike. I vaguely remember my dad taking the training wheels off and working with me on learning to ride. I do remember when I finally got my balance and took off down the sidewalk, then over a cub into the court and finally into another curb where I landed on the ground. Its funny how stopping is the same whether there are training wheels or not, but the minute you learn to ride without training wheels, you completely forget how to stop. 

The first bike that I had after I learned to ride without training wheels was a light blue Schwinn. It was too big for me when my parents got it for me, but my dad said I would grow into into it soon enough. At first was a little disappointed because the cool bikes at the time were bikes with smaller wheels and banana seats. They looked really cool, but they weren't very practical. If you wanted to go fast and far, you needed bigger wheels. I grew to love my light blue bike because I could go faster than any of my friends with their cool little bikes. I rode that bike everywhere. My family used to do bike rides in the neighborhood, and when we got older, we would ride to Traver Lakes and ride on the bike path around the condos. They had a tunnel that went under the road that I thought was super cool. 

My dad only had a few hobbies when I was little. Photography has always been his favorite, and swimming and cycling were what he did for exercise. My dad got into these hobbies from his uncle Wayne. Wayne was my grandmothers younger brother. He was quite a bit younger than my grandmother, so I think my dad related to him as the cool uncle. Wayne taught my dad photography, and he was also really into cycling. One time when I was very young, Wayne stopped by and visited us on his way to Main. He was cycling all the way from California where lived across the country to Main. I believe he did this twice in his life. His wife Gladdis drove a camper truck and met him at the end of each day. Wayne really was a pretty cool uncle. 

In 1978, I got my first paper route. I was in the fifth grade, and I had a Detroit Free Press morning route. I added some baskets to my bike, but by this time, it was getting a little small, or I should say I was getting too big. We found a really nice Schwinn at garage sale, and my dad bought that for my paper route. At first I thought the new bike was broken, because when I would use the coaster brakes, half the time it would kick back and the pedals would go further back than they were supposed to. At the same time the gearing would change. As it turned out, the bike was a two speed bike with what was called a kick back hub on it. It was a little confusing at first because it would change gears every time you stopped, but eventually I got used to it, and it was really a nice bike for delivering papers. I could put it in a higher gear when all the basket were full, and then as the weight got delivered I could put in a lower gear to go faster. 

I think it was a year or two later that my dad bought a new ten speed for himself and I inherited his old one. His old bike was Fuji which I think was a pretty high end bike in the 70's. I loved having multiple gears and the bike was so fast and light compared to my heavy Schwinn. I was able to ride so much farther. Of course I couldn't tell my parents how far I was actually riding because there were still roads I wasn't supposed to cross, but I did anyway. I loved exploring new areas and the feeling that my world was getting larger and larger. 

I rode my 10 speed everywhere. I could ride into downtown Ann Arbor and all the way to the west side which I did all the time until I got a moped when I was 14. I would say now that getting the moped was the biggest mistake of my life. I had quit swimming when I was twelve, and then quit riding my bike when I was 14 which was how old you had to be to get a moped license. If I had kept riding my bike, I don't think I would have the weight issues that I have today. The moped did give me additional freedom, but there was no exercise and I had access to a lot more fast food. My junior high and high school years were full of really unhealthy choices. 

My ten speed was pretty much worn out when I stopped riding it. When I was 16 my dad bought me a bike for my birthday and he got a matching one for himself. Mountain bikes were just becoming popular, and my dad thought with the knobby tires, he wouldn't get flat tires anymore. He bought a pair of Diamond Back Apex mountain bikes with bio pace cranks. I'm pretty sure they were 18 speed bikes, but they might have been 21 speed. They had a really high gear for going up hills. I really liked the bike, but I didn't ride it very much because I had just got my license, and driving a car was more convenient. I did have a rack for the back of my car and I would take my bike places and ride. My friend Ben and I would go and ride along the I275 bike trail that was just built, and it was cool to be able to ride down to Monroe starting from Canton. 

After high school, I was in pretty bad shape. I was overweight and didn't eat healthy at all. The summer I turned 19, I decided I should lose some weight. This was the late 80's so the food guidelines were as bad as they are now, but the main thing I did was start riding my bike to work everyday. I rode from Ann Arbor to Ypsilanti. I had to be at work at 6 am, so I would have to leave the house by 4 to get there on time. If I was late three times I would be written up, and three write ups and you were fired. I think I was only written up once, but it did put a lot of pressure on me to leave on time. I lost a lot of weight that year, and I actually got to a point where people said that I had lost too much and I didn't look good. That was the only time in my life I had heard that comment. 

I kept that mountain bike for many many years. When Forrest was born, I had a seat on the back and would take him for rides. When he was old enough to ride by himself, I got a trail-a-bike that hooked on the back and he would ride with me. It seemed like he only pedaled on the downhills, but it was a lot of fun. Eventually I decided to get a new bike and I opted for a comfort bike which I really didn't like at all, but it had smoother tires which was better for going distances. Forrest and I did a number of decent rides when I had the comfort bike. He had a mountain bike at the time, and we did a ride with the Jaycees that went all the way to Lake Erie.

Our Lake Erie ride was quite an adventure. It was a 35 mile ride that started at Willow Metropark and went all the way to Lake Erie Metropark then back again. When you got to the Lake Erie Metropark there was a pancake breakfast where the cooks would throw the pancakes, and you had to catch them with your plate. Forrest and I did this ride with several other people from the Ypsilanti Jaycees. It turned out to be a cold day that hovered just above 32 degrees with intermittent rain. I was wearing jeans and a leather jacket, and I was soaked and freezing throughout most of the ride. I had also just got clip less pedals and I was really new at clipping in and out. I fell several times including a time where I fell down a hill with my feet still attached to the pedals. We made it to the pancake breakfast and had a great time catching our pancakes. Then our group headed back. We were all freezing and pretty miserable. At one point the SAG wagon stopped and asked if we would like a ride the rest of the way. The rest of our group said that they would and loaded their bikes on the back. The guy driving the SAG vehicle looked at me and said there wasn't enough room for us, but he could drop everyone else off and come back and get us. Forrest had this look of indignation on his face. I looked at him and asked if he would like to wait, and he said no way, he was just getting warmed up, and he wanted to finish the ride. We were soaking wet, frozen to bone, and totally exhausted, but we finished the ride under our own power. It was one my favorite memories with Forrest.

As I got older, my knees and back started bothering me more and more, so I decided to try a recumbent bike. I really liked the recumbent bike, but it wasn't very practical. It was hard to start and stop, and going up hills was really tough. Once I stopped on a hill, I couldn't get started again. It was a lot of fun to ride and it was really fast. 

When Forrest was 11, we owned the restaurant and the city passed an ordinance outlawing bikes on the sidewalk. At the time I was upset about this because I hadn't researched the topic. Bike Ypsi started as a result of this ordinance as a bicycle advocacy group and they provided education on safe cycling. Statistically riding on the sidewalk is far more dangerous than riding in the road. Forrest started riding with a number of members of Bike Ypsi and is still considered one of their founding members. Every year the group does a spring and fall ride that has grown every year. The first year they did the spring ride, I went with Forrest and the rest of the group on the pre-ride to make sure the route was good. About halfway through the pre-ride we started heading up the hill on River Street. I was in my highest gear huffing and puffing, and I couldn't make it up the hill. I told Forrest to go on, but that I had to bow out and I couldn't make it. I was so embarrassed that I couldn't complete this ride with my son. This was the point where I knew I had to make some big lifestyle changes, and quitting smoking had to be number one. 

Forrest continued to ride with Bike Ypsi, and got to a level of cycling way beyond anything I had ever done. He did the Make a Wish WAM ride from Traverse City to Chelsea twice and he would do century rides with his friends just for fun. He was amazing to watch when he road because he had perfect form. It was like the bike was an extension of him. When he was 13, the whole family chipped in and bought him a Trek Madone carbon fiber bike for Christmas. I don't think he has ever been happier in his life than when he got that bike. It was the same bike that Lance Armstrong rode, and he loved it. On his second ride on the bike, he crashed into me and cracked the frame. It was a costly repair, but he had grown significantly since we bought the bike two months before Christmas, so we were able to upgrade to a larger frame, and he was able to get several more years out of it. Its hard to tell whether he outgrew the bike or wore it out. He really loved that bike. 

The one thing I learned from my recumbent was that I don't like bikes with squishy tires. I like fast, low rolling resistance, so I bought a road bike at the same time we got Forrest his new bike. I had to special order it, so it would fit me, and it fit like a glove. Forrest and I started riding together more and more. I was nowhere near his level, but we really enjoyed going on rides, and quite often, I would stop at home after work and ride my bike to the restaurant, then we would take the long way home. Whenever I could get time away from the restaurant, Forrest and I would ride, and I started doing the spring and fall rides with Bike Ypsi. I usually donated several boxes of chips from the restaurant for the BBQ afterward, so Forrest and I were pretty well known in the group. Of course everyone knew Forrest anyway. 

When Forrest did the WAM for the second time, I signed up for the 50 mile version that met up with the 300 milers right near the end. I really struggled to do the 50 miles, but I was in much better shape, and I had to make it with Forrest. At the second stop from the end, I met up with Forrest. My legs were cramping, and I was totally fatigued, but we rode to the end together. I was so happy to be able to ride a part of that ride with him. I was so proud of him and all that he had done. 

After we closed the restaurant, Forrest and I started riding with Bike Ypsi all the time. I got to the point where I would ride 40 to 50 miles every Saturday, and a couple of 20+ mile ride during the week. I signed up for the PEAC century ride at the end of the summer, and I trained for it all summer long. Forrest had gotten his license, so he was riding less and less just like I had done 25 years earlier, but he agreed to do the century with me. By the end of the summer I was in the best shape of my life, and we rode from Detroit to Ann Arbor, then up to Whitmore Lake and back to Detroit for 100 miles. By the time I was done, I had welts on my ass cheeks from sitting on the saddle, but it was the most amazing feeling to accomplish something of that magnitude. 

After the PEAC ride Forrest and I got into doing triathlons, and we didn't do as much long distance cycling. In the years since, Forrest has been working a lot, so most of my riding has been by myself. I still get him to do the occasional ride like we did yesterday, and we usually do the Taco Tour. I would love to get him to do the Helluva ride or one of the ones in Mackinac again, but weekends are tough for him. 

I am really happy that after all these years, I have been able to maintain my love of cycling and that it has crossed multiple generations in my family. It is one of those hobbies that has no down side to it. It is fun to do, good for you, and allows you to be part of a community. Even when you have periods in your life where everything else gets in the way, it is a hobby you can always go back to. Like the saying goes, its just like riding a bike, you never forget. 

Peloton Love

I thought I would write a current post to mix in with these old ones. Don't worry I will throw in some history as well. 

I quit swimming competitively when I was twelve. Prior to that I was always skinny, and weight was never an issue for me. By the time I got to high school, I was overweight and out of shape. When I look back at picture now, I think I wasn't that bad and that I wish I were that weight again, but at the time I was heavy. Another thing that happened in that time period was that I started smoking, so it was bad health decisions all the way around during my teenage years. 

In those days, our knowledge of nutrition was pretty low and wrong. The whole low fat craze was screwing us over, and the food pyramid was a joke, and no one really knew what caused heart disease and diabetes. I remember eating liquorish and thinking it was okay because it had 0 fat. We now know that fat is okay, and that sugar and carbs are what are causing our epidemic of diabetes and heart disease, but back then it was all about low fat. 

After going through a dateless high school period, I thought it was time to get back in shape, so I started riding my bike to work. I still lived at home and I worked in Ypsilanti. I had to be at work at 6 am, so that meant I had to get up at 4 am and ride the 15 miles or so to work. After a summer of riding and dieting, I was in pretty decent shape. Unfortunately I didn't quit smoking, but at least I was active and feeling pretty good about myself. I was still dateless, but that's a discussion for another blog post.

For years after this, I had a pattern of gaining 20 lbs in the winter and losing 20 lbs in the summer. Throughout my 20's I would fluctuate between a size 34 pants and 36 in the winter. My lowest weight during this period was around 210 lbs which according to the doctors chart put me right on the edge of being overweight. At 210 I looked gaunt, and I didn't feel very good. Friends at the time commented that I had lost too much weight. So even though 230 lbs was technically overweight, that is where I looked and felt my best. 

Throughout my twenties, I would go between 220's and 240's every year. As I got into my thirties though, things started to change. I still would usually lose 20 lbs in the summer, but I was putting on more like 25 on in the winter. My pants size was going between 36 and 38 now and my weight in the winter was pushing past 250. 

Once I hit my 40's, the cycle got even worse. I started losing less in the summer and gaining more in the winter. My activity level had dropped significantly when I bought the restaurant, and my eating habits were horrible. It wasn't so much that I was eating too much, but more that I was eating the wrong things and at the wrong times. I worked so much that often I wouldn't be eating dinner until midnight right before bed. In 2008 I did finally quit smoking, and I was starting to get into cycling again, but I just couldn't seem to lose the weight. I was always working and I was on my feet a lot, but other than riding my bike a few miles to work and back, I wasn't getting any real exercise. 

At the end of 2010, I closed my restaurant. I was at my heaviest I had ever been in my life at over 320 lbs. At that time, I really doubted that I would live to be 50 years old. I would go to bed at night with massive pains in my chest and wake up so sleep deprived that I couldn't stop shaking. Between the stress of working 14-16 hours a day, and having the bills pile up as the restaurant failed, I was sure I was going to have a heart attack at any time. I had been at some pretty low points in my life, but that was probably the lowest. I was unhealthy, unhappy, and totally defeated by the world. 

Closing the restaurant was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. I had always dreamed that we would make it, and Forrest and I would work together for the rest of my life. I loved working with Forrest so much. He was my best friend and an excellent business partner. If he had been an adult and out of school, I think the restaurant would probably have made it, but Forrest still had another year of high school and everything was falling apart too quickly. We closed the restaurant right before Christmas in 2010 and never opened again. We sold the assets to the couple who runs Cafe Ollie and started trying to rebuild our lives.

At the beginning of 2011 I was ready to make a new start. I improved my diet. I read the Omnivores Dilemma, and I watched documentaries like Food Inc, Supersize Me, and Fat Sick and Almost Dead among many others. I learned a lot about nutrition and exercise. I started going to the gym. At first I could on do a few minutes on the elliptical and I could walk on the treadmill, but over time I was able to build up my stamina and endurance. I cut out almost all carbs, and really focused on a more plant based diet limiting meat to weekend meals. When it got warm, I started riding my bike outside and joined group rides. Soon I was riding 40 and 50 miles at a time on the weekends. By the middle of summer I had lost 60 lbs and I was feeling pretty good. In the fall I road my first Century Ride on my bike. 

I stayed at 260 lbs for quite a while. I have figured out a diet that was sustainable and it was working for me. In 2012 I started doing triathlons. Forrest and I really enjoyed competing in these and had a lot of fun doing them. I was still having the ups and downs caused by the seasons, but I had a gym membership and I was doing pretty well with keeping things in check. 

In 2012 I got married, and things started going downhill after that. In 2013 my marriage started falling apart and fitness kind of went by the wayside. I was still going to the gym and riding my bike, but not like I was the previous couple of years. I really had to force myself to go to the gym. At the end of 2013, my marriage was finished, and I really struggled to keep balance.

Through the winter of 2014 I still tried to go to the gym, but I was always worried about running into my ex, so I didn't go very often. I had friends that I would hang out with, but the only activities we did together was hanging out and drinking, so I was back on the gaining cycle. In the summer I was riding my bike pretty regularly, so my weight would drop like it always had, but once fall hit, I was on a gaining cycle.

Near the end of the summer of 2014, four sentences posted on facebook ended up collapsing my entire social circle. A woman that my ex wife started dating after she left me made a comment about a cycling post I made, and I responded in what I thought was a fair level of aggression given the comment. My friends at the time took the response as being homophobic and stopped talking to me. I have no problem with homosexuals, what I had a problem with was friends who became homewreckers. I didn't care that my ex wife dated a woman, I was angry because the woman was a friend of mine who I had introduced to my wife. I lost all the friends I had been hanging out with except for one, and I sank into a pretty heavy depression. 

2015 started out very much like 2011. I needed to make a new start. I was over 300 lbs again, but I was dating someone, and my friend Buffy and I had signed up for a nutrition and fitness class at WCC. My emotional state was improving and I was feeling better about my situation. 

The nutrition and fitness class was awesome. It met every Saturday morning at 9 am, so it forced me to get moving on Saturday mornings, plus we met in a classroom at the gym, so I was already there and that often motivated me to do a workout. I actually learned a lot in the class. My understanding of nutrition at this point was pretty good, but the class added a lot of biological details that gave me a much greater understanding. Paired with the class was exercise and it really was designed for people wanting a full immersion into getting in shape. Buffy and I worked together at both the academic and the fitness goals, so it was a great opportunity to have a workout partner as well as someone to study with. We both lost over 20 lbs wile we were in the class, and when the warm weather hit, I was in pretty good shape for riding my bike. 

The woman I was dating was not supportive at all of my fitness goals. She thought my bike rides were crazy and she had no interest in doing any of the things I talked about doing. I realized then that there are people in life who are spectators and there are people like me who are participants. I could never watch a reality show because I actually live a real life. I would find watching someone else live their life pointless and boring. It wasn't until I dated Maria that I realized that some people just don't want to actually do anything. Watching the world go by is enough for them. I think that is a really sad way to live, but to each their own. I will continue to participate and challenge myself to be a better me all the time. 

Throughout 2015 I was pretty active on my bike, and met several of my weight loss goals, but I still never made it back to where I was in 2011. Then fall hit, and the cycle started over. In the spring of 2016 I was hovering at 300 lbs again. I had gotten down to the 280's in 2015, but my winter gain was back. I had maintained going to the gym, so although I was fat, I was still really fit. I was also single again which I figured would help me get in shape. After a year of being shunned by my friends, they decided to welcome me back into their group. I was happy to have a social circle again, but I have always had a feeling that it could happen again at any time. I have very poor filtering over the things that come out of my mouth, so I figure I will say something wrong again at some point. Hanging out with them again also means drinking a lot more, so this time I kept a better balance, and would meet them only after doing some type of activity. 

The summer of 2016 was really MY year, and I mean that in the most selfish way possible. I had given up on dating and decided I just wanted to enjoy myself and go on adventures. I took up kayaking and tried camping. I was gone almost every weekend in June and July. My weight dropped down into the 270's for the first time in a couple of years, and I was really happy with who I was. There were times I was lonely, but I was able to overcome that by paddling along a river or riding my bike in some new place I had never been. I didn't rely on friends or a partner for my happiness, I just worked on making myself happy. I think for the first time in my life I was able to stop judging myself and be happy for who I am and I really enjoyed that. 

Toward the end of July, I started talking to Kat online. We met on one of those swiping style dating sites. I really didn't think anything would come of it, but she was fun to chat with and I thought she was really interesting. I kept doing my kayaking, but I would share pictures of my adventures with her. It was really cool to have someone to share these things with. We met for real in August, and we hit it off from the first date. I still did some weekend trips throughout august. I did the Float Down in Port Huron, then I did a two day Kayaking trip on the Huron River Starting at my house and ending at Lake Erie. In September I started doing more hiking because that is one of the activities Kat enjoys. We did a couple of long hikes together before the weather got too cold. 

With November and December, I saw the cycle starting again. By Christmas I had put on 10 lbs and still climbing. I kept trying to make it to the gym, but too many other obligations would get in the way. I knew the holidays were going to be horrible for me weight wise, but I was really struggling with how I was going to get any exercise in. That's when I started looking at the Peloton Bike. Remember Peloton, this post is about Peloton. 

I had been looking at the Peloton bike for years ever since they launched their kickstarter campaign. I always liked the idea, and thought it looked cool, but I have bought so many things in the past to exercise at home that were never used. The cost of this bike is really high, and if it just sat in a corner, I would really be pissed at myself for buying it. As I watched my weight increase again this year, I started looking at this bike more seriously. When Forrest and I were on our cruise at Thanksgiving, I had taken the four spinning classes they offered. I have always really enjoyed spinning, but I can never get to the classes at the gym because they start before I get home. 

With my size, I really wanted to see the bike and try it out to make sure it would fit before I dropped that kind of money on it. Kat and I went to Somerset Mall where I was able to try out the bike. I really liked the feel of it, and the tablet looked amazing. The following Monday, I found a holiday coupon code online and that with the $100 of free accessories, I got over $300 off the bike. I bit the bullet and placed the order.

I was really hoping I would get the bike before Christmas, but I didn't really expect it to arrive. Then I got the call that they were available to deliver it on the Thursday before the holiday. I was really excited. They delivered the bike and set it up in my bedroom. I immediately did one of the 20 minute beginner rides on demand, and really liked the bike. I did another ride on demand, and then I did a live ride. It was really exciting when the instructor said hi to Jimmy Neutron, that's my nickname on their stream. It really felt like I was part of the class and that added to the motivation. The other thing I noticed was that since I was at home, I could push harder than I would in a class because if I puke or collapse at the end, no one will see me. So when Christine asks if I can add one more, I'm like "Hell Yeah I Can". 

I have taken a number of classes from different instructors, but so far my favorite has been Christine. All the instructors have been good, and I haven't had a class I didn't like yet, but each one has a different personality and style. A number of instructors set their classes up as a cardio class, which is what it is, but they are all about the cardio and different moves. What I really like about Christine's classes is that she is an outdoor cyclist, so she designs her classes around cycling and how you would ride if you were actually on a bike. I work harder knowing that I am building my stamina for when warm weather hits. I also like her personality and snarky comments as well. Like when she says she doesn't want to hurt you at the beginning of the class, and then winks and says she will hurt you later in the class. You really feel that she wants to sustain the torture as long as possible. When I finish her classes I always feel like I have had a really good workout, and I have enjoyed every minute of it no matter how uncomfortable it was. 

After having the Peloton bike for a couple of weeks, I have taken over a dozen classes and also done the stretches in the beyond the ride sections. I have already used this more than any other piece of indoor exercise equipment I have purchased in my life. Even on days where I can't fit an hour of time in to do a ride, I can always pick a 20 or 30 minute ride in the on demand section. I really love this bike, and I really think I will keep using it. I'm sure I will get to the point where I am not using it everyday, but if I can keep doing three to four times a week, this would solve my fall and winter meltdowns, and maybe I could continue to progress in my weight loss goals. 

Now that I am almost 50, and I have been on weight loss journeys several times, I do know what actually works for me. When someone tells me they are trying a new diet and that I should try it, I politely say I don't do diets. I know my body and what works for me. Losing weight is actually really simple. Cut out the bread, pasta, and french fries, eat more plant based items, and exercise at least three days a week. That isn't a diet though, it is a lifestyle. When I keep that balance, I lose and sustain weight loss. Carbs and Sugars are addicting. It takes a while to eliminate the cravings for them. A couple of slices of bread and a potato, and I am right back wanting them all the time. The trick for me is to not ever have bread or potatoes in my house. When I go out for a dinner, that is when I treat myself to these items. That way they become associated away from home and as part of a special occasion and not something that I can eat any time I want. 

Lifestyle changes take time, and as life changes, so does your lifestyle. There have been so many points in my life when things were going right and I made good eating and exercise choices, but that can be undone in a moment by other life events. That's okay. You can't beat yourself up about everything that happens. All journeys in life have ups and downs, and that is what makes life fun. If everything were a flat road, life would be really boring. 

More about the bike. When I first started looking at the bike seriously, I looked at a lot of reviews, and all of them were positive. I did find one review that compared the bike to a schwinn model, and the reviewer felt that the Peloton was inferior, but he also sold schwinn, so there was a little bias there. He did make a couple of points about the belt and the bottom bracket, but he totally ignored the tablet which is what makes the Peloton bike a truly wonderful piece of equipment. The bike itself is really solid, and professional quality like you would see in a gym spinning class. The tablet is a 21" hardened touchscreen that can handle bouncing around and getting covered with sweat. The company really isn't making a lot of money off the hardware. You really are getting what you pay for. 

The subscription for unlimited classes is what makes this bike worth every penny. I have seen posts where people complain about the $40 a month subscription, and if you are struggling to pay rent every month, this bike isn't for you anyway. If you are a professional like I am, and you struggle to find the time to fit your exercise into your schedule, this is a solid solution. The subscription gives you unlimited live and pre-recorded rides every month. There are usually about a dozen classes a day from early in the morning to late in the evening. Plus there are literally thousands of pre-recorded rides you can choose from, so any free time you have, you can use this bike. 

The metrics on this bike are incredible. It keeps track of cadence, power output, heart rate, calories, speed, and resistance. You can share your ride on Strava or Facebook. I share to Strava automatically which then links to myfitnesspal where I log all my food an other activities. If you know anyone looking at one of these, tell them to try it out at a showroom if they can. 

Here is a shameless plug. If you or someone you know uses the link below, you will get two months free on your subscription. The cool thing for me is that if you use it, I also get two months free, so we both win. 

https://www.pelotoncycle.com/r/?rc=1a3c2dff5270415996c8e9f9afb51bc5

John Can't Play Football

Anyone who knows me well knows my knowledge of sports is very limited. That wasn't always the case. When I was little, my mom and dad would take me to U of M games. I used to enjoy making paper airplanes out of the program pages and trying to get them on the field. Unfortunately anytime anything exciting happened, all the adults would stand up, and all I could see were peoples butts. So in actuality, I never really saw any football being played at all. I saw a lot of time outs and huddles, but that was about it. The marching band was pretty cool, and It was nice to hang out with my parents and have some good snacks. On the nice days it was a lot of fun, but on the cold and wet days it was pretty miserable. 

Like most kids though, my dad had given me several footballs over the years. Carol was too young to try to play with, so I tried to teach John. After all, John loved watching football on TV much more than I did. I figured he would be a natural at it. 

So as I tried to explain my limited understanding of the game, I told John that whoever had the ball, that was the person to tackle. If I had the ball he was to tackle me, and if he had the ball, I was supposed to try to tackle him. The end zones were each end of the backyard and that is where you score. The only thing John heard was "tackle the person with the ball".

So we started out playing, and I would have the ball first. I would hike it to myself, and then something totally bizarre would happen, John would turn into a wild animal. He didn't just tackle me, he had to imitate a complete pile on and bury me in the ground. After finally getting him off me, I would get up and my head would be swimming as I tried to regain full consciousness. Each time it would be the same thing until it was 4th down and I would turn the ball over to him. After four downs, I was knocked almost senseless by my normally loving gentle brother. 

As I started to recover, it was his turn to hike the ball, and I was thinking it was payback time. We got down he hiked the ball to himself, and I charged at him like a bull. He pulled back and threw the ball at my head. It bounced off my face, and I was dazed again. Then John proceeded to tackle me again. He held me down pushing my head into the ground. I was yelling at the top of my lungs that I didn't even have the ball. Finally he let me up and I staggered over to the ball and picked it up, and as I was turning back toward him, he charged me again tackling me to the ground. I am sure I lost consciousness this time. 

When my head finally cleared, I realized that the only rules John would understand was once the ball touched me, it was time to tackle and pummel me. Now that I understood the rules as well, we were able to make a game out of it. It was basically touch the ball and run for my life. It must have been funny to watch me running in circles around the backyard while John chased me growling like a monster the whole time. 

John never learned how to play football any other way, but we had fun playing this way, and John loved to wrestle too. He didn't understand rules very well, so I usually end up in a fair amount of pain in any contact sport we played. I loved playing with John, and he was my best friend growing up. 

Fish Hook - Ouch

When I was in first grade I had a friend names Junko. She lived rite across from the elementary school and we would hang out after school. We both liked playing at Thurston Pond and riding bikes. 

One day after school, we were riding bikes along the trail by the pond. There were a couple of older boys fishing and as we were riding by one of them cast his line and hooked Junko in the ankle. She fell off her bike and landed on the ground crying. I got of my bike and went to go help as did the other two boys. When we looked at the hook, it was buried deep in her ankle. Since the hook had barbs on it, there was no way to remove it. We tried to administer what little aid elementary school kids could, but eventually we had to go get help. 

When I was a child going to school, there was a program called the helping hand. People could volunteer to be a helping hand in the neighborhood and they would get a sign to put in their window that had a big blue hand on it. In school we were told that if we ever needed help or felt threatened, we could go to any house that has the blue hand, and someone would help us. There were several of these in the neighborhood, and fortunately there was one at the house right next to the school by the pond. 

I got on my bike and rode over to the house with the blue hand and told the woman that answered the door about the situation with my friend. She called to her husband who came out of the house and walked over to where Junko was laying. We ended up cutting the fishing line from the hook, and when the man found out where Junko lived, he carried her home to her parents. She only lived a few blocks away. I guess I could have gone and got them, but I figured the house with the helping hand was closer. 

Junkos parents took her to the doctors and they had to cut the hook out. I don't remember if she had to have stitches or not, but I think she did. I remember her ankle being pretty heavily bandaged. I don't go fishing very often, but any time I do, I think of this event.

Junko moved away after first grade and I never saw her again. One of the problems with growing up in a university town is that the neighborhoods can be very transient. A lot of the kids I went to school with had parents who were students, so once they graduated, the family would move away. 

Surprise Cake

I'm not sure how old I was when this happened, but I think I was just old enough to stay home alone, so I must have been eleven or twelve. Carol was swimming at a meet, and both of my parents went to watch her. I think it might have been a championship meet. I was home watching John and my parents and Carol weren't going to be home until late in the evening.

I thought I would be a nice brother and surprise everyone with a cake when they got home. I got a box of cake mix and get out the stand mixer. I started adding the ingredients to mixing bowl while the mixer was running. When I got to the eggs, I accidentally dropped the shell in the bowl. The beater immediately crushed the eggshell into tiny pieces. I tried to stop the mixer, but it was too late. 

I was pretty young and inexperienced in the kitchen, so I got the bright idea that if I mixed the batter really fast, it would break the eggshells into such small pieces that no one would notice. So I beat the batter on high for as long as I thought it would take. Then I poured the batter into a couple of round pans and baked the cake. 

I can't remember if anything looked off at this point, but I pulled the cakes out and frosted and assembled them into a nice round cake. I was probably pretty proud of my accomplishment, and I had the cake all ready to server as soon as my family came home. 

When my parents and Carol came home, I surprised them with the cake. I cut the cake into pieces and served each of them as well as a piece for myself. I can still remember the look on my dads face as he started chewing on the cake. Now my dad was the type of person who would try to be supportive no matter what, but with each attempt at chewing, there was no way for him to hide the shock of having small pieces of eggshell grind against his teeth. I had noticed the horrible feeling in my mouth, like eating a handful of sand, but I had hoped that maybe it was just my pieces of cake that had been contaminated. The look on my dads face made it clear that wasn't the case. My sister was probably the first one to mention how bad the cake was. 

I explained what happened, and we all had a pretty good laugh over it. I have never been able to live that one down even though I became a pretty decent cook within a few years. Of course I still avoid baking at all costs with the exception of eclairs. 

Mini Bike Mayhem

I seem to be bouncing a little chronologically, but this post is kind of a continuation of the push kart post. As I grew older, just pushing a kart kind of lost its appeal. Motors, that's when things started to get exciting. 

Right before I started 5th grade, I started hanging around with a kid at the other end of the neighborhood up near Sugarbush Park. Donny Biton was his name, and he was a student at St Paul's, so our parents thought we should get to know each other, so I would have a friend at my new school in the fall. 

One day when I was at Donny's house, his older brother was in the garage cleaning out some things when he pulled out this old mini bike. I looked on wide eyed and asked what he was going to do with it. The mini bike was homemade, and it was made out of two inch galvanized pipe with a plywood deck strapped to the frame. The engine was in pieces in a box sitting on the deck. Donny's brother said he had to get rid of it and asked if I wanted it. I was like, oh yeah, I want that. My poor parents, it seemed like every time I left the house I came home with something, and it was usually some piece of junk I was sure I could fix. 

I rolled the mini bike home with the pieces of engine all boxed up and ready for assembly. I don't really remember my parents reaction. I can imagine my mom groaning as I added more clutter to the garage, but I think my dad was much more encouraging. I remember him explaining how engines work and the difference between 2 cycle and 4 cycle engines. 

The engine for the mini bike was a 3.5 horsepower Briggs and Stratton. For some reason the carburetor was a Tecumseh. I think my friends brother said it had a larger bore and gave the engine a little more performance. This was all new to me, so I bought a book on how to repair small engines, and got to work on my new projects. It was summer, so I still had a lot of time work on it. I worked on it for days and finally got the motor all assembled and mounted to the mini bike. With a little starter fluid and a number of pulls, I got the engine to start. 

I was really excited to get the engine running, but now I had to figure out how to get the bike to run. Since this was a homemade contraption it really didn't meet any type of guidelines for safety. It had a v-belt that attached to a pulley on the engine and one on the back wheel. The belt was loose, and there was another pulley on a swinging arm between the two pulleys. I attached a rope to the swinging arm, and I would pull the rope to add tension to the belt while increasing the throttle. The only part of the mini bike that looked like it was actually designed to be a mini bike was the throttle on the handlebars. So to go, I would increase the throttle with my right hand while pulling up with the rope in my left hand. Starting was a little shaky to say the least. 

Now you may have noticed that I haven't mentioned anything about a braking system. That's because there wasn't one. Once I got the mini bike started and running, the braking solution was to drop the rope and put my feet down skidding to a stop. I am really not sure how I was allowed to ride this thing. It would seem my mom would have put her foot down, but maybe she just didn't realize how dangerous this was. 

My first ride on the mini bike was wonderful. After I had fallen a couple of times figuring out the acceleration and coordinating starting and stopping with pulling and dropping the rope, I rode my mini bike up and down the street feeling the wind blowing through my hair and enjoying this new found freedom. It was such an amazing feeling, and I was so happy and proud of myself for putting it together. I came home for dinner and set my mini bike lovingly next to the front porch. Since it didn't have an off switch, I just attached a wire to ground and dangled it from the frame of the bike. When I needed to turn it off, I would just ground out the spark plug. I went inside for dinner smiling at my new bike. 

I ate dinner quickly because I wanted to get back outside and ride my bike some more before it got dark. As soon as I finished eating I ran outside and attempted to start my mini bike. I pulled on the starter pull with all my might, but it wouldn't budge. I thought maybe it was jammed, but it wasn't. I went inside and got my dad and asked if he could start it. When he pulled the handle the mini bike lifted, but the engine didn't turn over at all. He looked down at the mini bike perplexed and then asked the fateful question, "you did put oil in it, didn't you?", I am sure my face went blank as I simply replied "Oil?"

I knew cars needed oil, but I didn't think small engines did, they were small. I got to ride my mini bike once and seized the engine in the process. I was heartbroken. I felt so stupid for not knowing that the engine needed oil. I went in the house that evening and looked through the Sears catalog which I loved because it had brand new mini bikes and go karts in it. I found the section that had engines, and a horizontal shaft brigs and stratton was over $100. I knew I would never be able to get a new engine for my mini bike, so I decided I was just going to have to fix the one I had. 

The next day I started taking the engine apart. My dad came into the garage and asked what I was doing. I said I was going to figure out how to fix it. My dad didn't want to get my hopes up, but he said if I could get the piston moving again, I might be able to get it running. I took the head off and started applying penetrating oil and hammering the piston with a block of wood and a mallet. After a couple of days of working with it, I got the piston to move, and finally was able to remove it from the block. 

Carpenter Brothers hardware store was one of my favorite places as a child. I learned so much from the people who worked their over the years. I remember going to the store and explaining my situation to one of the guys there. I remember him telling me that I would have to replace the rings and hone the cylinder, but if it wasn't too scratched, I might be able to get it running again. Carpenter brothers didn't carry rings or the tools I needed, but the guy recommended Ann Arbor Implement. I was confused and asked if that was a store or something. He said yes that it was a store in downtown Ann Arbor.

I got my dad to take me to Ann Arbor Implement, and I was amazed at all the stuff they had. It was more of a lawn and garden supply than a hardware store, but they also had mini bikes and go karts just like what I saw in the Sears catalog. When I walked into the store, hanging on the wall was a centrifugal clutch. I looked at it with amazement knowing that if I could get my motor running again, I could get one those and get rid of the belt drive system altogether. Then I could use both hands to ride my mini bike. They did have a set of rings for my engine, and I believe they let me borrow a hone to polish the cylinder.

It took me several attempts and I had to get another set of rings because I broke one, but I was finally able to get the cylinder honed and the new rings installed. I had to buy a ring spreader and compressor, so I was starting to amass some cool tools as well. After putting the engine back together and making sure there was oil in it this time, I got the engine started again. I was so happy. My dad had helped me with getting tools and parts as well as a lot of advice, but took a very hands off approach to this project. I don't remember at the time, but I can imagine that he was enjoying watching me persist in solving this problem. He probably thought he had the makings of a good engineer someday. 

With the engine fixed and oil in the crankcase, I rode my mini bike everywhere. One of the first places I took it was the hardware store to show them I fixed the engine. Using my feet for brakes was becoming a bit of a problem though. I still had normal size feet, but I was going through a pair of shoes every week or so. My mom would take me to Meijers and I would pick out the cheapest pair of shoes I could find. The harder the sole the better, but within a week or two the sole would be worn away. 

I did go back to Ann Arbor Implement and get the centrifugal clutch I had seen when I first went there, and I converted the bike over to a chain drive. Soon after was able to install a braking system that wrapped around the clutch and stopped the bike at the crankshaft. Now I had a fully functioning mini bike that I could drive all over the neighborhood. 

Driving through the neighborhood did have some issues though. For one, I wasn't old enough to drive or have a license, and for two, my mini bike made out of plumbing pipes was far from street legal, but having brakes did bring it at least close to being safe to ride. It was pretty rare that there would be police in my neighborhood as a kid. Every now and then a patrol car might come through, but usually they didn't come unless they were called. I did have a few close calls with them, but I was usually able to go off into the woods or something before they caught up to me.

There was one occasion where I had just pulled out in to the street after doing some work on my bike, and as soon as I did a police car came around the corner. I was really close to the woods, so I gunned the engine aiming toward the woods. At the same time as I pulled back on the throttle, the wire I had dangling from the frame to kill the engine fell across the spark plug and the engine died. I was busted. The police officers pulled me over and explained that it was illegal to ride a mini bike in the neighborhood. I apologized and explained to them that I had been working on getting the engine running, and I was just testing it out to make sure that it was working properly before I pushed it to the vacant lot behind my house. I wasn't exactly lying, and I think they mostly bought my story. In any event, they let me go without talking to my parents, so I was happy. 

My engine repairs and upgrades had been successful, and I got a lot of use out of the mini bike. Seizing the engine like I did probably shortened the life of the engine though. One time as I was riding home from a friends house, the engine started making a loud clanging noise and then finally a loud bang and stopped with oil draining out of the crankcase. I had thrown a rod and it had punctured through the side of the crankcase. There was no repairing the engine this time. I had gotten a good year out of the engine, so it wasn't as devastating as the first time. I walked the mini bike home and went inside feeling pretty defeated anyway. 

My dad looked at it and agreed that the engine was done. He mentioned that he had seen a lawnmower that the U of M Property Disposition that had a motor on it that might work. We took the trusty suburban over to the property disposition and sure enough they had an old reel type lawn mower that had a horizontal shaft engine on it. Basically it was just a manual push mower with an engine mounted on top. We bought the mower for $20 and brought it home. My dad had always had either manual push mowers or electric mowers when I was a kid, so he was a little apprehensive about letting me tear this mower apart. The mower was even self propelled, so he suggested that we see how it works first. I didn't like that idea at all. I was afraid that if he liked it, I wouldn't be able to pull the engine off. My fears were unfounded though. As soon as my dad started the mower, it took off on its own across the driveway sending sparks in the air. When it got to the lawn, it dug a two foot wide trench chewing up grass and dirt for about six feet before the engine finally stalled. My dad finally caught the mower and pulled it back to me and said "Do whatever you want with it".

I pulled the engine off the mower and installed it on the mini bike with all the components from the old engine. The shaft was at a different distance, so I had to do some adjustments, but I was able to get it running again. I rode it for a while longer, but as I got older the mini bike didn't get a lot of use, and I eventually sold it to a kid down the street. 

One of my biggest criticisms of my father growing up was that when he would show me how to do something, I was always stuck watching and had very little participation. I do much better with a hands on approach. When he would show me how to do photography or work on electronics projects, he would do everything and I would only be able to watch. As I wrote this piece, I realized that wasn't always true. There were cases like this where he would help me when I asked, but for the most part he would take a hands off approach and let me figure things out on my own. I can't help but think now that he did this intentionally to help me work on my own problem solving skills. 

Push Kart Races

My neighborhood looked a lot different when I was younger. There was one industrial building behind my house that was abandon and the rest of the space was either wooded or abandoned farm fields. The houses on my block ended just past the court and the condominiums on the other side of Green Road were only about half built. The cool part about the condos not being finished was that they had a long parking lot that on an incline that wasn't being used. In other words, it was a perfect race track for push style go karts. 

I think my fascination with go karts started when we had a neighborhood garage sale and one of the older kids in the neighborhood sold his go kart, I think it was Tom Houtman. It was a really nice kart with a fiberglass body and a metal steering wheel. I really wanted it, but my parents wouldn't buy it for me. My next door neighbor Jon Norris ended up getting it. We were good friends even though he as a little younger than I was. I was a little jealous that he got the kart, but in retrospect, I am happy I didn't get it. Building my own go karts was a lot more fun.

When I started building my own kart, I had to scrounge around for wheels and other parts. I originally attached the wheels with lag bolts into 2 x 4's, and the steering mechanism was just a rope that you pulled either on the right or left to turn. Jon had his fancy kart, and one of the kids in the court had a nice one that was all wood built from a kit, but the rest of us had to build our own. 

Race days were always fun. We would parade our karts down the street to the hill at the condos. If we made it to the hill without our kart falling apart, it would be considered a successful day. I always had to bring my tool box with me to handle repairs along the way and between races. 

Once we got our karts to the top of the hill, we would line up for the race. Jon was always the one to beat because he had the fastest kart. Speed was important, but impact resistance also played a part it the races. Now it wasn't like the races were planned as demolition derbies or anything. Most of the crashes were caused by some type of mechanical failure. Either a steering system would go out or a wheel would fall off. Of course there were those times where it was just fun to take out your opponent. Typically after each race we would have a small break to execute repairs to our karts, then we would line up again.

At the end of the race day, we would parade our karts home again. The parade home often looked a lot different than the parade to the lot. I can remember a number of occasions where my friends and I would be carrying my kart home in several pieces. We were often pretty scraped and bruised from the various crashes. 

Other than the nice karts that Jon and the other kid had, the rest of us would be rebuilding our karts between race days. I had the opportunity to change my designs or upgrade from lag bolts to axles when I was able to afford the parts. I remember buying metal rods from the hardware store and drilling holes for the cotter pins to hold the wheels on. Of course then I attached the axle to steering arm by bending 6 penny nails over the axle in several places. Nails were the preferred method for building things back then. Battery powered drills and screwdrivers didn't exist yet. Power tools were pretty much off limits unless I had my dads help, or I could sneak using them without anyone knowing. 

The one iteration of kart I remember most was this monstrosity I built out of 2 x 4's and 1 x 4's. It was double the width of anything I built before and it had a deck and roof made out of homasote. Homasote isn't water resistant at all, so this was a very short lived version, but it was definitely one of my favorites. It took several of us to push it to the lot, but it could carry two or more kids down the hill. It was slow and steering it was like turning a freighter, but it had mass, so collisions weren't a problem. The only time my kart won was if the race turned into a demolition match. Once it got moving, there wasn't much that could stop it. It sat outside on the side of the house, so it wasn't long before the rain caused all the homasote to dissolve. Eventually I scavenged all the parts I could and built a new kart. Building the karts was half the fun anyway. 

When I go through the old neighborhood these days, it is really hard to imagine the open spaces that used to be there. There are so many more houses, and the condos are all built now. There is retail, restaurants, and hotels. I hardly ever see kids in the neighborhood now. They are all inside playing video games I guess, and they only play together if they have a scheduled play date. I can't imagine any parent in today's society letting there kid parade off down the street with a pile of 2 x 4's nailed together with 4 wheels and a rope, but that is what we did, and I learned a lot of valuable skills building those karts. 

Earliest Memories

I have a vague memory of Toronto. Actually I think I have a memory of remembering an incident in Toronto. I remember talking about it with my mother when I was younger. It was something to do with John and I, and I was climbing on something and grabbed a hanging lamp and pulled it down. That's all there is to this memory, just a momentary clip in time. I have a number of little clips of memory from my childhood that are kind of unconnected, so I thought I would put them together in this post. 

I am not sure exactly when we moved to Ann Arbor from Toronto, but it was definitely before August of 1970 because that is when my sister Carol was born. I can remember a woman from across the street coming over and watching me and John while my mom was in the hospital having Carol. She had a daughter my age named Kimmy, and I think we were friends, or as close to friends as you can be at 3 years old. I don't remember much about this except that we were sitting in the backyard playing. The backyard was totally different from what it looks like today. There was no addition on the back, there wasn't even a deck. I think it was just a sliding door with a step down to the grass. Our yard had a chain link fence. We were the only family in the neighborhood to have a fence back then because it was against the subdivision rules to have one. My parents got a variance allowing them to have one because John had Downs Syndrome. 

I do remember my parents bringing Carol home from the hospital, but I have very few memories of her until she was older. I don't think she really registered in my life until she was around three or so.

I have a few memories of Kimmy because I think we went to Nursery School together at the schoolhouse in front of the Dixboro Church. I can remember my dad taking me to school there in the SAAB he had when I was little. I can kind of recall doing art projects. I think that is all you really do in nursery school, crafts, story, snack, nap. Those were the good old days. There was also a marathon gas station just down the street where he would get gas. This was back in the days of full service stations. We got a nice set of breakfast bowls from the gas station. I think you got a bowl with each fill up. They had the stone age cartoon characters with the stone wheels on them. I can still remember eating cereal out of those bowls for years. I remember singing American Pie along with the radio while driving to school. It seems like it was on everyday when we went there. I also have a memory of sitting in the bathtub with my brother singing the refrain not understanding what whiskey and rye were, but thinking the words sounded cool anyway. 

One of the other memories from that time was John getting on the school bus and going to school. High Point hadn't been built yet, so he was going to Sullivan School. Of course it was the stereotypical short bus, and my mom would take him out to the bus every morning. I remember she had some kind of portable seat belt that she would take with her and fasten him into the bus seat. I am not sure if it was for his safety in case of an accident or more to prevent him from wandering around while the bus was moving. My guess is that it was more of the latter. 

I mentioned the Wagon problem from my dads book in my goodbye letter to my dad. I am not exactly sure when that happened, but it was prior to 1974, probably  when I was around 5 years old or so. I had been playing in the woods behind my house and I found this pile of galvanized pipe. The wooded areas around my house used to be a farm and they processed maple syrup, so there was a lot of old farm equipment rusting back there. The pipes I found were in pretty good shape, so I hauled them back to the house, cleaned them up and put them in my red wagon. We had a bunch of extra squash in our garden, so I packed them in my wagon and went off into the neighborhood yelling squash and pipe for sale. I'm not sure if I sold all the Squash, but I did sell all the pipe to one of our neighbors, Bill Houtman. 

Big Wheels were our main mode of transportation in those early years. John and I both had one, and so did most of the neighbor kids. Taking our Big Wheels down to the Court was the highlight of our day in the summer. One of the houses in the middle of the court had a really nice steep driveway, so we were able to start at the top and race as fast as we could into the court. 

Mike, Scott, and Wendy Chisholm lived on one side of the court and we played with them all the time. I remember their neighbor had a really cool dune buggy that he had built himself. I don't remember what his sons name was, but he was part of our early group. The court played a huge part of our early childhood. It gave us a nice paved area to play in that wasn't quite in the road. We played games like kick the can in the evenings.

From as far back as I can remember we went to the community pool in the summer. I remember having swimming lessons there when I was very young. My dad loved to swim, and he would always swim laps during adult swim. I think a lot of the kids kind of resented my dad sometimes because he would be the only adult in the pool swimming for the 15 minute period. If he hadn't been there, they might have let the kids back in sooner. My mom didn't swim at all and rarely got in the pool even in the shallow end. John loved the pool, and he learned to swim a little. At the pool, you had to pass your test to be allowed to swim in the deep end and go down the big slide. To pass your test, you had to swim two lengths of the pool with out stopping, and you couldn't flounder too much. I passed my test at a very young age, and I loved going down the big slide. 

I remember my dad going to work everyday. He always dressed in slacks and a button down shirt. Sometimes he would wear a sport jacket. He always had his brief case though. It was an iconic image of him and his briefcase. He had several of them throughout his career, but they were always the same color and style. They opened from the top and had a single latch on the middle to keep it closed. He really looked and acted like a professor in every way. 

I really thought my dad was cool back then. He had all these cool drafting tools in his office and a manual typewriter that he used to write his book. He had shelves full of press on letters and symbols that he used for his book and everything he made. I loved playing in his office while he would work on grading papers or writing. I loved it when he would let me use his drafting table to draw on. I was never good at drawing, but I enjoyed being there with him. 

Ice Fall

I was recently relating this story to Kat, so I thought I would write it down while it is still refreshed in my mind. 

When I was in elementary school at Thurston, Kindergarten through fourth grade, I always walked to and from school and home for lunch. The easiest way to and from school was to walk around Thurston pond then between a couple of the houses to head up Bluet Dr to my house. Actually I kind of doubt it was any shorter, and being a dirt trail with no winter maintenance, I am sure it wasn't any easier. It was however much more interesting than the sidewalk. 

Thurston Pond was one of my favorite places when I was little. In the summer we would go fishing there and the community pool was right next to the pond. In the winter when the pond was frozen over, we would go skating and play ice hockey there. I had a friend named Corey, and his dad used to test the thickness of the ice. He had a flagpole in his backyard where he would put a green flag if it was safe to skate on, or a red flag If it wasn't.

It really didn't matter what time of year it was, I hardly ever made it to or from school without getting at least one foot soaked during the trip. I remember a lot of really cold walks to and from school where my feet were soaking wet and the cold would be eating through. There was one walk home where I got a lot more than my feet soaked. 

Back when I was in elementary school the pond has two islands. If you were standing in the Orchard Hills Pool parking lot facing the pond, the island on the left was at the shallow end of the pond near the school, and the island on the right was at a deeper section. When the pond was frozen over, I would walk across the pond rather than the trail because, well it was more fun.

One day I was walking across the pond. I am pretty sure I was with someone, but I can't remember who. I got to the second island which had a little bay and a large tree stump sticking out of the water right next to a deep part of the pond. Being a deeper part and having a tree stump protruding, the ice wasn't as thick. I can still remember those last few moments as I was walking across and hearing the cracking sound and the ice parted beneath my feet and I plunged through into the ice cold water. 

When I fell into the water, I had on boots and a heavy corduroy winter coat. I scrambled for the edge of the ice, but each time I tried to pull myself up, more ice would crack and I would fall through. I remember one point looking up though the water and seeing ice above me. I'm not sure if it was one of the pieces of ice that had already broken off or if it was the ice sheet itself. Somehow I got out from under the ice and got out of the pond. I remember very little after this point except how cold I was and how solid my coat had frozen.

When I got home, my mom got me out of my clothes and put me in a bathtub full of cold water. I was so cold that if felt as if I was being dropped into boiling water and being burned alive. I don't remember anything beyond that. 

I have a lot more respect for ice these days. When I look at a lake with ice on it, I am extremely reluctant to step foot on it. If I want to go ice skating, I will be much happier on a nice smooth rink. 

Church Attendance

This is one of my favorite stories about my father that I have retold numerous times over the years.

When I was in fifth grade, my parents decided to move me from the public schools to St. Paul's Lutheran school. The local elementary school wasn't working out for me which I will discuss in a later post, and there really weren't any private options that weren't religious. There were several other children in the neighborhood who went there, and the school came with a pretty strong recommendation. My fifth grade teach was named Miss Thunder, and she had the ability to scare a lot of learning into someone. 

When we started at St Paul's we found out that attending church was a requirement and that they would take attendance on Monday morning. Fortunately they didn't require you to go to their church, just that you went to church on Sunday. I suppose Saturday would be okay too. My family had never attended church, and my dad was a pretty ardent atheist, so this was a pretty big downside of the new school, but since it was a requirement, we started attending church. 

I can't remember if my dad went to church with us or not. I definitely remember my mom going, so I have the feeling my dad stayed home. We started out by going to the Methodist church in downtown Ann Arbor. I remember having to get up early on Sunday and wear nice clothes, then sitting through sermons being bored out of my mind. I couldn't believe how many times we had to stand, then sit, then stand again. I was constantly in trouble for fidgeting, and I really didn't like anything about it. I remember one time when the minister was discussing faggots asking my mom what that was, and she said it wasn't a nice word and was obviously uncomfortable with the sermon. There really was a lot of confusion between the way I had been brought up and the messages coming from the pulpit.

The worst was when the minister would get out his guitar and start singing the sermons. I am not sure if he had any talent as a minister, but I was certain he had none as a performer. I guess having a captive audience makes it easy to have a false sense of confidence in your abilities. At least with the guitar playing, I didn't fall asleep the way I did when the older minister would speak.

As I have mentioned before, my dad was not a religious man in any way. That being said, he didn't push his views on me. He let me discover my lack of faith on my own. I think going to church and going to St. Paul's accelerated that view. In the end neither one of us were militant atheists. My dad never argued with anyone about it, it just wasn't a topic he discussed. He figured there were a lot of people who got a lot out of their faith, and if it was working for them who was he to judge as long as they weren't interfering with his life. I would say I am much more argumentative, but I am still respectful of other peoples beliefs. I just enjoy an intellectual debate more than he did. 

After a particularly boring church service, I was talking to my dad at home, and I told him how much I hated going to church and wished I never had to go again. Now my father was a very honest man, so lying wasn't an option, but that doesn't mean he wasn't willing to explore loopholes. He asked me what exactly did they say when they took attendance on Monday mornings? I remember saying that the teacher just asks if you went to church over the weekend. He looked at me with a grin and said, "do they ask if you went inside?". I started smiling as I replied no, no they don't ask that. He said, so there is no mention of whether they are even open when you go. I was like, no, no mention at all. 

After this enlightening discussion with my dad, we started going to a chapel on U of M's campus since it was actually open all the time. We would drive downtown, go into the chapel, say a quick prayer which was probably hoping we could stop by Burger King while we were there, then we would go home. We did this for a while, and I would smile every Monday morning as I honestly answered the question from the teacher as to whether I had gone to church over the weekend. 

After a while it became quite a chore to drive all the way downtown to go to the chapel. We would run out of time on the weekends, and there was a Lutheran church just down the street. We would wait until the evening and drive over to the church, run up to the door and touch then handle, then run back to the car. Every now and then we would have to sing in a school function, and actually have to go to the St Paul's church, but other than that and a couple of weddings, my father and I never attended a church service again.