Random thoughts on a Friday morning

Tomorrow, I will celebrate the anniversary of my arrival in this world. I am twenty-five, with almost that many years' practice. As is seemingly common in our society, ruminations happen at such junctures. Where am I, where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket?

We had some discussion over age at dinner with a friend the other night. I had been saying for some time that I had more fun between thirty and forty than in the fifteen or twenty years prior to turning thirty. Since turning forty several years ago, I've had a fair bit of fun as well. I don't mind that I'm going to be fifty in another year, although I may change my mind by then. Life is good.

During that discussion, I recalled hearing a radio station advertise that they played the music of "the best years of your life." Regardless of when the music they played was recorded (I think it was WRKA, when they played mostly music from the 1960-1975 era), I took exception to their claim--the music from the best years of my life has yet to be recorded. Life keeps getting better for me.

It's gotten better in increments, of course. Sometimes the increments are subtle. Sometimes they seem to be measured in negative values, but only momentarily--the overall trend remains in the "improvement" realm of the gauge.

One of the improvements over the last few years has been being with Jenn. With some prior girlfriends, there was hesitation on my part--I wasn't sure enough of her, myself, or the relationship between us to commit to lifetime partnership. Each former partner has affected who I am, to be sure. I cannot deny that, nor would I--it would demean myself and each of them.

But I feel more stable with Jenn. I'm more willing to be interdependent with her--helping her when stuff goes awry for her, and accepting help from her when my own stuff goes haywire. Celebrating the good that happens with and for us.

Each of us came into this with the explicit goal of having a healthy positive relationship. Neither of us was willing to spend time on something that would be detrimental to our health or well-being. I have my mother's marriage to my stepfather as a far better example than her marriage to my biological father (among others I've observed), and my stepfather's example of what it means to be a man in society and in close relationships, as proof that good can happen, and that I can be an agent of good happening.


Now that I've wandering far afield for a moment, I want to type out some other thoughts while they are in mind.

Jenn and I have been, perhaps simply by accident, tinkering with a "car-free lite" type of lifestyle. Her work has been pretty hectic of late, to the point that she feels it prudent to drive to work instead of cycling (she has hinted that there is more to it than energy levels, but I haven't pushed it). Her car goes a week or more at a time without being used--she prefers driving my truck in general (again, I have been willing to accept this as apparent reality without asking for elaboration). I've been riding to work more reliably (and the absence of ice on the roadways has been a factor in this).

I've been saying for some time that my ride to work is between thirteen and fourteen miles. Out of curiosity, I reset my trip odometer for the first time in over seven hundred miles yesterday, so that I could tell just how far it is. When I got to work, the odometer showed 11.8 miles, a good mile and a half less than I thought it would. The thing has had gaps in readings before, but once it's reading it usually continues for the day, so I think the number is valid. The average speed I saw before resetting the trip distance was consistent with my sense that it takes me about an hour to get to work or back--I'm no speed demon on this bike!

But it still puts the lie to the sense that Crestwood is "way out there" from Louisville. It's twelve freaking miles from Trinity High School, for crying out loud, not twenty or forty. The round trip is about as far as the Sunday Afternoon ride from Heine Brothers' Coffee shop purports to be (although there is more variation in terrain and traffic). It's not a difficult ride by most standards (well, by club ride standards, anyway--I'd figure it an honest 2 on the 1-4 difficulty rating system, although that system doesn't really have a traffic component to it).

People who learn that I ride to Crestwood from St Matthews for the "get to work" thing seem astounded--even some cyclists think it's a long way to ride (What? You just rode fifty miles on this morning's club ride, and you think twelve miles is a long commute on a bike?).

Preparations continue for RAAM. We have our flight reservations in place. Jenn is helping recruit more crew members (she recruited a friend of ours recently, and our friend has made the crew!).

The last Tool School session for the season (unless we get a group that wants to do one) will begin this Sunday. As I type this, there are a couple slots open for folks to join in the fun. We'll see how it goes.