Bring on Spring!

I've been in a funk. While I'm managing to get to the gym most mornings for about an hour, walk Oscar and Rudy 20+ miles (32 km) per week, and get in a few rides (mostly on my indoor trainer this time of year), I'm struggling with motivation. I can admit to my fair share of doomscrolling. 

I think back to when I was employed and living a more structured life where every hour of my day was spoken for. I was motivated to stay on task to tick off items on my to-do list before I had to leave for work. Or when I returned home from work, I tried to squeeze as much out of the remaining daylight as possible by taking a few-hour ride. Good or bad, it seemed I was always on the move, and I took pride in that. 

These days, I'm more inclined to remind myself that there's a benefit to downtime—to allowing my body to more fully recover between workouts. My Garmin Epix Pro 2 is good at letting me know when I've been too active, and it's mostly right. Having said all that, I'm beginning to ramp up my riding so I'm ready for some higher-mileage weeks when the weather warms a little more. 

My riding has shown renewed strength of late. I went out earlier this week on my gravel bike into a 10 mph (16 kph) east wind while focusing on keeping my watts at around 2.3 w/kg. After 33 miles (53 km) of mixed surfaces, I arrived home, averaging 17 mph (27.3 kph). I was super happy with my effort because before my knee surgery, I was struggling to hold 14 mph (22.5 kph) on my gravel bike. It's been several years since I've ridden my gravel bike at that speed solo. I've not had my road bike out yet this year, but I'm hopeful I'll be able to ride at an average of 20+ mph (32 kph) occasionally, something I haven't done in years due to knee pain. My riding has a level of excitement now that has been missing. I know these numbers pale compared to fit, younger cyclists, but to this 68-year-old, I'm pleased.

Cliff is an official greeter at his daycare! He's learned that he gets lots of smiles when he greets people with his unmistakable "hiiiiiiiee!" We drove down to see Rachel, Drew, Cliff, and PJ on the Saturday before Easter. We spent a few hours with them, including a trip to the library and their kids' section. I was honored when Cliff approached me at one point to put his shoes and jacket on him. 

We usually get a FaceTime call from Rachel each week. When I answered her call a few days ago, Cliff was looking at the phone. His face lit up when he saw us. Seriously, that made my day! 

Cliff is in a garbage truck phase. He loves to watch blue garbage truck videos before going to bed at night. And he has the coolest garbage truck toy. He has little pieces of crumpled paper that he uses as trash; dumping them out and picking them up again. I want to always be able to get down on the floor with him and play with his toys together—not so much at this age, but soon.

Rachel and Drew are expecting their second child (and likely last...but one never knows!), a boy, on May 15th. Tammy and I are both so impressed with their approach to parenting. This is all a new experience for me, and an eye-opening one at that. Having children is a lot of work, especially at this young age! 

I'm feeling like my relationships with my siblings have become mere dying embers. That's sad for me to put into words, but I've been thinking about this a lot lately. My desire to be in their lives has just a faint pulse anymore, and that's a mutual feeling, I believe. Two of them have made it clear by their lack of attempt to communicate with me that I'm dead to them. They're strong Trump supporters, and I'm clearly not. Whatever they're being told about people such as me from the hard-right voices they've taken to is much more powerful than any love they may have had for me. They've made that clear. 

After Tammy's near-death experience last August, I was hopeful in a looking-for-a-silver-lining sort of way, that from that scary event would come a rekindling of our collective relationship, after having reached out to them during that time. That didn't happen. I waited a few months, then phoned my sister Jackie (the sibling I was always closest with) while walking along Duluth's Lake Walk on the shore of Lake Superior last December. I just wanted to say hello, hoping she would do likewise and phone me back in time. I'm done hoping. And as I said, I'm kind of done caring. 

I can't compete with the fascist, war-mongering, sexual predator, child rapist, and mob boss that they have stupidly put their trust in and allowed to come between us. How sad is that?

Normally, I don't mention such matters, but this is an important aspect of my life now. It creates in me a similar feeling to when I left Christianity. My faith and my family held an important place in my life, and for the vast majority of it. And now they don't—and I can’t pretend things haven’t changed.  As Carol King sang, "Something inside has died, and I can't hide, and I just can't fake it."

I made it down to the river bottoms on Wednesday for the first time since last autumn. I brought my DJI Neo 2 drone along to see how well it followed me through the wooded trails. It did great! I slowed for it a little in some more technical areas to help prevent it from trying to negotiate smaller branches at a speed for which its obstacle avoidance may not be suitable. 

That's all I've got. 

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