C.: Well, it’s Sunday, the day that I usually read chapters from my friend, d.c. scot’s manuscripts, but I was going to watch the lost episodes of my favorite serial “Nine Lives to Give.” It was cancelled, but I found out that the last few episodes had been recorded before it woas canned. I now know where to find those episodes.
Hmm. It looks like I have plenty of time to do both before I go to work at The Kennel tonight cleaning out cages (even though I’m in upper management now). I’ll read first and then watch the lost episodes of “Nine Lives to Give.”
I’m on chapter six of d.c.’s BEYOND THE THIRTEENTH MILE: THE IRON MAN CHRONICLES. This chapter’s called “White Picket Fences.” It’s a short chapter, so I have plenty of time.
CHAPTER SIX: WHITE PICKET FENCES
1130: Bike leg; mile 56:
I’m starting to cramp in my legs and stomach. I don’t think I should’ve eaten those power bars and drank that energy drink. I should’ve saved both for later in the race. It was too much for my digestive system to overcome since I’m putting most of my energy into riding this bike. I hope my G.I. tract recovers by the end of the race. There’s steak at the finish line. That will help me recover faster from this race.
Most people would think that these bikes, since they cost so much, aren’t worth the money that triathletes and avid cyclists pay for them. In some people’s opinions, paying so much for a bicycle is a lot like putting a white picket fence around your yard. It’s pretty, but it’s not worth the price and effort. It’s strictly ornamental.
I disagree, after having to ride old, bottom-of-the-line bikes in my first few races. These bikes are definitely not just ornamental. They’re extremely important equipment in which a serious triathlete or cyclist must invest.
I remember being locked in wheel-to-wheel with that (female) All-American in a sprint distance triathlon in Greater Houston on this bike. That was fun until her six-six husband (also an All-American) came whizzing by us on his bike. That couple put a lot of money into their bikes. The way they both rode, their bikes weren’t just ornamental, like white picket fences...
***
My job, at times, requires me to work around picket fences. While their aesthetic quality cannot be argued, their usefulness can. Getting equipment entangled in a picket fence is almost inevitable, and I truly question whether a three-foot picket fence can deter a 150-pound Great Pyrenees from doing, basically, whatever he pleases, as one of my customers must have believed.
This, I thought as I surveyed the white picket fence while pulling my equipment away from it, is like most of the relationships I've had since my divorce. All seemed to look right, but for some reason or another, deep down, none were. One relationship spanned a period of seven years, although we never dated for over three months at a time. On the surface, it seemed to be the ideal situation for us both, having several similarities in our backgrounds, as well as both being avid football fans. My “friend” could determine what coverage the defensive backfield was employing on a regular basis when we atched football games together. This is something that only someone with a well-trained eye is able to do. I suppose, though, that our personalities were too different. Perhaps it was just a case of bad timing or in reality, we had just set different goals for our lives. That, in the end, was the deciding factor.
I later learned that this person had decided against having any more children, stopping at one. Since I desperately wanted a family, it was fortunate that the relationship never really blossomed. The Lord does work in mysterious ways.
At the other end of the spectrum, I met a sweet, smart, gorgeous lady (inside and out) one month after my divorce; we became friends and started dating three months later. My first inclination was to run as fast as I could in the other direction. Not only did she have a daughter the same age as my former step daughter Ali, but she also had the same first name as my ex-wife Patricia! As time went on and I developed feelings for both, it became harder and harder to let them go. It took a long time to get acclimated to not having them around, because they had been a large part of my life. Unfortunately, I had gotten involved with someone else before my grieving process was over (from both that relationship and my divorce) and hurt someone who was very dependent on me in a lot of ways. She wasn’t pleased, to say the least, when I opted to end our engagement.
Most of the women had health problems, which fed my "caretaker" personality. By the time I had ended my engagement to Josie, I was more than a little discouraged. I felt the need to take myself "out of the loop" for a year. That one year stretched into two. Meanwhile, I had gotten interested in endurance sports. Since most of my friends were female, dating was put on the back burner. The friendships at least satisfied my desire for female companionship, but my soul still hungered for a lasting relationship; the way my body constatnly craved the 5,000 calorie a day diet mainly made up of protein and complex carbohydrates it took to maintain my weight and muscle mass. That made me more inclined to pursue new relationships with the more fair gender.
There was one person who seemed to pop up on a consistent basis. Nicole was, at first glance, the classic person with whom I always seemed to find myself involved in a relationship. She was a recently divorced single parent and probably looking for the type of security I couldn't offer at that time.
I had, I thought, nothing to lose, save for some of my time (already in short supply), as well as some more of my ability to trust someone in a romantic relationship. Add to these two facts the inevitable confusion that will almost always surface at the genesis of any relationship, and you understand my dilemma, that being the inevitable question: "Is anything or anyone worth all of this?"
The answer, of course, is that life is a risk. Every morning, you face the possibility that something life-changing (or even life-threatening) can happen during the course of a day. A Dear John or Jane letter coming in the mail (or your email account, or, perhaps, a text), an accident, or getting fired from a job can all be rather daunting. In the case of an athlete, a blown-out knee, a sprained ankle, or some other misfortune suffered in training or competition can all be draining as well. I know this from personal experience. When you consider all the many, many days when none of these things happen, though, you must reason that, for the most part, the odds are in your favor.
C.: I think d.c. is setting something up, but I won’t read the next chapter now. I barely have time to watch all sixteen of the losts episodes of “Nine Lives to Give” before going to work tonight. I’ll just boot up my computer and… There’s Ralph. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Tonight is the sixth game of the Astros-Ranger’s ALDS series, and Ralph is singing the new Astros’ fight song that I made up. I guess I’ll watch this and wait one more day to watch the lost episodes of my favorite serial series.
RALPH: a one, a two, a one two, three, four
Houston has the Astros
The greatest baseball team
They hit the ball from line to line
And homer in between
Their pitchers are amazing
Their hitters are sublime
They make Rob Manfred miserable
By winning all the time
We’re the…
Houston Astros
Houston Astros
Houston Astros number one
two, three, four
Little Jose in his high socks
Hits the pitcher’s pitch
When Altuve’s in the batter’s box
The pitcher is his…
d.: Well, that’s all the time we have for today folks. Please join us tomorrow for another episode of Cal.E.’s Korner.
LET’S GO ASTROS!!!!
Strike zone?
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