(Not really the kind of post I wanted to put up but I didn't know where else to put it.)
This past week I've been a bit numb and at a loss.
I learned from his brother that a friend Kevin F from back in the day had passed unexpectedly late last week. I don't know what happened. Nothing planned at this time. It feels tragic, his wife died a few years ago, cancer I think. He's survived by two daughters.
I'm still assimilating the idea of him being gone.
I was in a group text chat with him and another rider from the same era, the chat's been going for a few years, it's one of those chats that sometimes there are 50 updates in a day, sometimes zero. I actually turned off alerts on the chat because when at the start it blew up my phone.
Kevin last responded July 1. We got the message from his brother July 5th.
Kevin loved the romantic cycling culture. He wasn't into all the tech, the gear, the structured training. He was the "42x18 for 1500 miles in the spring" kind of person. 23mm tubulars, 32h GP4s. I think if he could ride a Coppi era bike he'd be psyched.
He wanted to go bikepacking. He sent all these clips of riders riding on quiet, peaceful trails.
He sent me all sorts of books on the older champion racers, Bahamontes, Bartali, etc, and history of the Giro and things like that.
Way back when he sent me spare parts that weren't made anymore, Gimondi 3ttt bars (crit bend heat treated alum bars that I preferred), Titanio 2000 saddles, Aerolite pedal parts, things like that. We actually bid against each other briefly on a part on eBay until he realized it was me and stopped bidding. I don't use my eBay username anywhere else so I don't know how he knew it was me, but he asked me if I was bidding on this part to verify.
One of his texts was his feeling on some parts link he had sent. "Old tech is cool tech".
He and I were obsessed with cycling back in the day. For the reader's info, it was 8th grade for me, he was a year younger, we started racing a year later. We idolized the pros, we dreamed of riding on cobblestones, we wanted shoe covers and long sleeve jerseys, rarities for us. We could only afford shorts and a short sleeve jersey, any additional clothing was so expensive to us.
We lost touch a bit when he stopped racing, but roomed together for a year after college. Then he moved out west and we lost touch.
Whenever I saw certain pro racing pictures I'd think of him. The pictures were always the tough riders of Belgium, the flahutes, in the damp chilly one day Classic races in the spring, because that's when we rode together.
For me he was always the rider bundled up with long sleeves covering his arms, but with shorts exposing his heat rub covered legs. Shoe covers big with skinny angles stuck in them. Skinny narrow hips, skinny narrow shoulders. Helmet with a cycling cap sticking out from under the front of the helmet. Thrashing the bike when out of the saddle, rocking it side to side. Rolling hard when seated, effort obvious, never effortless like the dominant riders.
Face lined with the weariness of life.
For many, many years my favorite time to ride was in those flahute kind of conditions, mid 50s, damp, overcast, a bit wet out, bare legs but bundled feet, big gloves, cap with a brim to help protect the eyes when riding head mostly down, letting me look over my glasses without getting rain and grit in my eyes. Maybe it was the years from when I grew up in Holland, where it rained seemingly every day. I don't know.
Me trying to be the flahute I think of when I think of Kevin
About 15 years ago, when I started to decline the chance to ride in mid 50s drizzle in the grey outdoors, my wife would start asking me, "Where did your flahute go?"
For many, many years there was one race I had on DVD that had a rider that was exactly my image of Kevin. I wanted to make a clip out of the race, set to a specific song that flooded me with the feelings of those damp, chilly rides we did in the early season. I had ideas on the kinds of scenes I wanted in the clip, where they'd be set relative to the music. I knew the emotions and feelings I wanted to capture. I kept putting it off for one reason or another.
I finally made the clip a couple years ago. The pro rider is Nico Mattan, the race Ghent Wevelgem. Nico Mattan in this race was that archetypal representation of Kevin. Mattan looked like Kevin on the bike, pedaled like Kevin, and poured his heart and soul into the bike like Kevin.
The song too, the rolling rhythm, voice breaking as the finale begins... I didn't say it at the time but the entire thing was because of Kevin.
It's been difficult to watch this now.
The clip:
The other day I was in the grocery store and saw some Parmalat milk. They sponsored the Amore Vita cycling team, and is, in the US, a very European but somewhat obscure brand. I thought, "Oh, Kevin would get a kick out of this!" and took my phone out and took a picture so I could text it to him:
Then I realized I couldn't send it to him.
I'm still at a loss. It doesn't seem real to me. I haven't really told anyone about it. The other day we asked his brother if it was okay to let people know. His brother said yes. So I'm posting this.
A bit bright, it seems, but on the camera it seemed fine. I didn't bother trying to edit the pictures. I'm putting them here as much for reference as anything else.
Some updates to the bike - the ISM saddle, it has a wireless SRM now, a not-visible-in-the-picture PC7 (wireless SRM head).
There's a rear camera on it, Shimano CM-1000. I'm not 100% on it yet but it seems to reliably turn on and record, so there's that.
I've had the Exustar pedals for a while now, although I don't remember if I have pictures of them on the bike from before.
Only notable thing is the front derailleur mount broke, probably today. The derailleur wouldn't shift into the big ring so I just manually placed the chain there and left it for the ride (I rode outside!).
One of the most critical things in the 500m time trial is the start. Actually, it's the most critical thing, and it makes sense. The goal with the 500m time trial is to cover the distance as fast as possible. You can do one of two things to do that. You can go faster or you can get to speed quicker.
The problem with going faster is that you're working against aerodynamic drag, which increases exponentially. It will take an incredible amount of power to increase speed meaningfully, and at what I presume is the goal speed, about 40 mph, you're covering about 60 feet per second. There isn't a lot of time to go faster.
With limitations to top speed, it makes sense that the rider should accelerate to top speed as fast as possible.
And that's what all the big racers have been doing for the last 20 years. The top speeds are about the same so they work to get up to speed faster. That means every iota of power has to go into the pedals, not into moving the bike around. So no real rocking of the bike
I first saw the unusual starting technique with Chris Hoy in 2002. I wondered about his technique since there was no rocking of the bike initially. It was more like he was on a spin bike and pushing down. Ends up that is exactly it - you basically lock your leg, push down as hard as you can (which means pulling up on the bars), and you end up putting down massive power and saving your quads for later. Here he is in 2002 (and incidentally he does the 500m in 31 seconds, which would win Nationals for me by a wide margin). And here is a crazy fast sea level kilo in 2019 (go to 21:00). That guy does a 30 second 500m. It seems to me that a 34 second 500m will put me in the ball park for Nationals.
Everyone has acknowledged that starts are critical. Therefore riders practice starts all the time, going to the track if possible. There's a unique resistance with standing starts that simply not cannot be replicated on a trainer - it's high resistance at the start due to the rider/bike inertia, but then it turns into a speed thing, turning the pedals fast with high power. You can't replicate that with the light flywheels on trainers, the 6 lbs or even 12 lbs ones. There are whole training days for starts, using different gears, doing start efforts (50-100m), etc.
For me getting to a track is not possible so I needed to find an alternative. Based on some intranet help from fellow trackies, the low buck way to replicate starts is to get a high inertia wheel. There's a bazillion dollar machine out there but a cheap and usable alternative is the CycleOps 300 Pro. New they were about $1500-2500. I saw them at Interbike in 2009, but I remember thinking, "why would I want one?". I liked the 400 for its ability to adjust power (so you could record a ride and then "replay" it at home, or set power test steps, etc).
Picture from the post linked above.
The 400 (above) is a smart trainer, i.e. it can adjust resistance.
The 300 is not a smart trainer but uses the same frame and wheel.
The 300 was initially sold as a fixed gear bike but later it went freewheel, I think for mass market appeal. When I contacted Saris (the manufacturer) about conversion kits to fixed gear I was told that the 45 lbs wheel still has the fixed gear threads, they just put a one speed freewheel on. I'd just need to remove the freewheel and install a fixed cog and a lockring.
With that settled I decided to look for a 300. They're available locally for about $500, I saw them for less outside the area.
The biggest problem was fit - I vaguely recalled being unimpressed with the bar drop when I sat on one in Vegas. When I looked at the local one I measured what the drop would be from saddle to bars. On my bike it's 14.5 cm. On a 300? About zero. When I measured where the "top tube" intersected the "head tube" it was about where I'd want the stem. With a huge amount of vertical adjustment, I figured that if I modified the frame so that the top of the head tube was as low as possible then I'd be good.
I bought the 300.
And got to work.
First off, the thing is really heavy. Shipping weight is 140 lbs, actual weight about 135 lbs. I struggled to get it out of the Suburban, and it noticeably weighed down the rear of the vehicle. In the process of moving it around I managed to break the plastic mount for the computer. On the good side I figured the weight would help anchor the bike, and the flywheel would really make a difference in replicating high inertia standing starts.
Stock head tube. Very tall.
Black insert in tube.
The black insert is a slippery plastic, sort of like cable housing liner. It's tough, resistant to rubbing forces, and flexible. It makes it possible to have a less than perfect head tube and still clamp the tube tightly. On a regular frame the seat post and stem have to be perfect to within 0.1 mm. With the sleeve, not so much - the tube is probably misshapen by a solid 2-3 mm from top to bottom, with significant distortion around the welds.
The clamp (with the big lever) looked to me like it can be removed. This was my big gamble. I figured they would make the frame modular, with a one piece cast piece for the clamp. No reason to do fancy brazing and lug work on this thing, so all the raised bits would probably be molded into the cast piece.
My request for help on Facebook.
The clamp assembly is circled in red.
The yellow vertical line is my lowering goal.
Note the spot weld bits on the clamp assemble. There are two on each side. When I removed the sleeve there were no weld marks at the top, only a lip to keep the clamp from sliding down too much. I gambled that the clamp assembly was slipped over the cap, a couple welding tacks put in place to hold it, and done. If they used more to hold it I'd be in trouble.
Starting cutting at work.
I didn't have a cutting wheel so I brought the 300 to work and borrowed one. When I started cutting I was afraid of ruining my $500 investment. Plus I'd never cut so much metal at once. I was timid, unsure, and eventually stopped.
Did the cut at home.
I started cutting the welds holding on the clamp assembly.
At home I was a bit less timid. I didn't have to clean up before close, I could work at my own pace (no work interruptions), etc. I generally work well like this although sometimes I end up veering down the wrong path. It's how I did the suspension and quarter panels of the Civic, built the inside of the trailer, fixed the Sentra, got the now-red frame repainted, and it would be how I approached modding the 300.
Cut head tube in front, the remaining frame in the rear.
I needed to cut out the rectangle for the stem clamp.
I tried to mirror the rectangle opening for the clamp wedge. I also notched the tube for the alignment bumps in the clamp assembly.
Notching the frame for the alignment notches.
One thing that I didn't anticipate was just how low I cut the head tube. I knew I cut it lower than the clamp height, and I planned on cutting down the clamp, but it was close. I underestimated how much the clamp overlapped the head tube - it went much further down than I thought it would.
Trial fitting the clamp assembly while holding the cut bit of the head tube.
Red thing is a flashlight to look inside the tubes.
At this point the clamp was about 5-8mm too tall - the lip that was supposed to sit on the top of the head tube (visible on the left side of the clamp) was 5-8mm away.
The pieces in my hand.
You can see how tall the clamp assembly is at the back, opposite the yellow lever. It's over 10mm tall, and I needed it much shorter.
The clamp assembly cut down.
I did smooth it out after.
I cut the back of the clamp assembly almost to the top - I'm just short of the cosmetic trim lip of the assembly.
You can also see the lip around the edge of the clamp assembly. There are notches cut out for the plastic sleeve. The springs spread the wedges in the clamp bit - there's another wedge that is not in the picture, and that one is the one that presses against the tube.
Close up of the finished product.
Note how low the head tube is now - the "stem" protrudes below the frame now.
I had to remove a stop that kept the "stem" from protruding down below.
I can't weld so I planned on using a metal epoxy to resecure the clamp assembly to the head tube. However, I actually did not do the last step in the process. I'll do it later but the metal epoxy I have was dried (I used it on the Honda quarter panels about 10 years ago!) and the clamp is holding fine right now without any adhesive.
The finished frame bit.
The wheel still needs to be converted to a fixed gear.
The major mod is done now. I still have to remove the BMX freewheel off the wheel and install a fixed cog and lockring. I want to put different pedals on it also - the Keo Max pedals are too easy to slip out of, which is why I don't have them on my road bikes (I've unclipped multiple times during sprints). I may use my old SPD-Rs (the kind that don't unclip easily), or I'll use the one Look pedal that doesn't release accidentally, the original Look Keo Carbons that I still have in my pedals bin.
I gave it a test launch last night. I was in my PJs, no socks, and went to do some lifting before bed. I slipped on my shoes barefoot, adjusted the saddle, and did a Chris Hoy imitation. Junior has watched a bunch of starts with me and even he knows the drill.
Beep at 30 seconds.
Do what you need. Look around. Look down. Wiggle your hands on the bars. Think of the upcoming effort.
Beep at 10 seconds.
Focus. Hands still now. Prepare to send it.
Beep every second from 5 seconds.
At 2 seconds you lean a bit forward.
At 1 second you throw your butt way back, and start launching forward so that...
At "GO!" your pelvis is thrusting forward so it's over your front hub, your left (track tilts to left so you start with left so you don't take yourself out) leg straightens, and you push down as hard as you can while you pull with your arms as hard as you can. It's like doing a dead lift, max power, hold your breath, just get the bike going.
And I almost flipped over the bars as the rear of the 300 came up off the ground.
Heh.
So I have some more mods to work on, to keep the 300 planted - apparently 135 lbs isn't distributed properly for standing starts.
Chris Hinds (and a blog post). I don't think I'll be posting a lot but I'd like to do race reports and some misc stuff this year. I want to do some race reports for the Frozen Four but have to gather cam footage and such.
I also want to make a race clip out of this one but I have to get a working Mac first! We'll see when I can make that happen.
Anyways...
This is a race that I've skipped for forever for two reasons. First, while I was running the Bethel Spring Series, this race was on a day I spent prepping for the following day's Bethel race. On the rare occasions there was no Bethel race the following day I often skipped it out of sheer fatigue. Second, after Bethel ended, meaning the years 2016-2018, I skipped it because I was sorely out of shape at that time. It being a 2 hour drive, I didn't want to drag the Missus and Junior along if I was going to do just a few laps. The final reason is that it's during tax season, and the Missus can't come to the race. I try not to race much with her not there.
This year is the first year I've had some fitness since 2015. I did a few days of intervals, have been riding to keep my sanity, and managed to stay at a high reasonable weight. I've stayed in the 170s, instead of 180s, which isn't terrible for me. As a reference point I dropped to 158 lbs in 2010 and slayed it in the races, and in 2015 I was 163 for a bit and won once and got third three times. If I can drop below 170 it'll be fantastic, and if I can get below 160 that'll really change my racing. The reality though is that the 170 mark is my realistic target.
With tax season keeping the Missus busy, I relied on my teammate Joel to look after Junior while I raced. We got to the race a bit early to watch Joel race but only caught the last two laps. Then Junior rode his bike for at least an hour while I chased him around on foot. We tried without training wheels for a bit, but my back and his patience ran out. Reinstalling the training wheels, he zipped around pretty much the rest of the day.
With Junior in Joel's care (complete with a packed lunch courtesy the Missus), I kitted up for the race. I was feeling decent for the race, just wondering if my fitness was up for it. I had my trusty bike with my trusty race wheels.
My bike, Junior's bike.
Race wheels on my bike, training wheels on Junior's. Heh.
Number
I had to re-pin the number. I initially pinned it to a wind vest, with the wind and all. But then as the sun cut through the clouds I realized I'd be hot in the vest. I raced with the number pinned to my jersey.
M50+ start - a huge field
The first race I ever finished was at Ninigret. I realized while on the drive down that in a few years it'll have been FORTY YEARS since I started racing. And, back in 1983, I finished the Junior race at Ninigret.
It's not 40 years yet so don't get that stuck in your head. It's only been 37 years.
A lot has changed here over the years. The course used to be all the black pavement, WW2 airfield stuff, with tires lining the course. They'd stack four or five tires at the apex of the turns - you'd sometimes rub against them during the race. If you got shoved it was bad, you had to navigate between tires else you'd flip over the bars.
And you really, really, really didn't want to flip over the bars. The airfield asphalt was like sticky pavement, just grabbed you if you fell. There was no sliding at Ninigret, even in the rain, and the pavement really tore you apart if you fell.
Now it's paved in regular pavement, with grassy borders. You slide if it's wet. The low bushes near the second last straight that used to obscure the riders' hubs are now 10 feet tall and impossible to see through.
But some things haven't changed. It's windy here, always. It punishes those that can't corner or draft. And, for the sprint, it generally rewards those that start the sprint near the front.
Strung out bit.
Within a few laps the race was strung out. The single file laps are the hard ones, and this race had maybe 5 laps like this. I think if there were another 5-8 laps like this the race would have blown apart. But before the strong riders could shatter the field they shattered themselves, and the race calmed down.
Accidentally near the front of the group.
At some point I accidentally went way up front, seeking shelter. The main straight had wind hitting from the right so you have to be left of the wheel. I got stranded on the right and moved up to find shelter, finally giving up when I was at the front. I quickly eased, let riders pass me, and got myself buried in the field where I belong.
5 to go.
At five to go I was still there, and, if you'll notice, just to the left of the rider in front. Sheltered in the field, things seemed okay.
2 to go. Lots of riders ahead.
At two to go it was still together but guys had been moving up all over the place. I was near the back of the field and realized I really needed to move up. I didn't want to be clawing my way from the back on the last lap.
2 to go - I'm pretty far from the front.
Unfortunately the race strung out and I rode too politely. I waited for someone entering a corner, got on their wheel, and then.. they left a gap! I had to close it with a bit of effort.
Bell lap. Ugh.
At the bell I was much further back than I'd planned. The little dig on the backstretch used up my allotted reserves for that lap and now I had to do exactly what I didn't want to do - claw my way to the front from deep within the field.
Rider to the right was dropping anchor, rider from the left swooping in.
The first few turns were kind to me, the back stretch okay, but as we entered the right turn off the back stretch, things got about as wiggly as it got during the last lap. The guy to my right slammed his brakes on, trying to avoid grass surfing (on a prior lap about 8 riders took to the grass). At the same time the rider to my left (orange/yellow) was diving in, much tighter than the rider in front of him (in blue/black).
Very close to the rider on the left, probably an inch or so to his wheel.
The rider in the orange/yellow ended up just barely touching my wheel - I was doing some hip swaying, bar pushing, etc, to avoid contacting him. It worked out, I got on his wheel, and it was good.
Second last turn, still too far back.
Going into the second last turn I was on his wheel, still uncertain about the guy to my right. I briefly tried to stay on orange/yellow's wheel but decided to let him have it, but then he didn't get on the wheel. We were both a bit stranded.
Second last stretch, wind from right, need to go left.
As we exited that second last turn, the wind hit us from the right. I wanted to go left but I was afraid of committing myself too early. In hindsight I probably should have moved up a few spots, maybe 2 in front of the orange/yellow, but at that moment I wanted to wait a bit.
Last turn, no real room to sprint, want to jump toward left.
My punishment for waiting was to get boxed in by riders moving up on the left. We went into the long, two stage last turn, and I had riders to both sides of me. I had a jump, I wanted to use it, but I needed some room before I let the nitro explode.
Onto the final straight, no room still.
As the riders hit the straight I expected them to stay to the left, to deny riders behind shelter. Instead they moved right. I just needed an opening to go.
Left side opened up, boom, jumped hard.
Then the rider to the left went a bit more left than everyone else. It opened a gap, I took it, and launched as I shifted up. It felt pretty good, but the numbers don't lie - I barely managed to break 1100 watts.
It wasn't a very good jump.
Legs failed at this point, wattage plummeted.
Kicker is that the race winner is right there and I closed half the gap to him in a few seconds.
Worse yet was within five seconds my legs were done. I'd averaged 991 watts for 5 seconds, and about 850 watts for 10 seconds. With a 13 second sprint, my average power was down to about 825w.
In contrast, couple weeks prior, I averaged 1030 watts for 5 seconds and sustained almost 1000 watts for 10 seconds. So compared to that other sprint earlier this year, I really faltered in this one.
Managed to pip Dave at the line, and barely beat a guy to my left.
HR is high for me, 171, and it probably climbed after the sprint finished.
Earlier in the day Junior asked me if I wanted to beat one of the riders hanging out before the race. Taken aback, I thought about it. I realized that I don't go into a race wanting to "beat someone". I start a race wanting to do the best that I can do, no regrets.
So as my legs fell away in the sprint, I kept pushing, because I didn't want to tell Junior after the race that I gave up. I didn't want to think back at this race and wonder what would have happened had I kept pushing. So even though my wattage fell off a cliff, even though my legs felt like they were stuck in molasses, I kept pedaling. And, eventually, after an interminably long sprint, I managed to cross the line in fourth. I had no idea, and in fact I was hoping I was within the top 10 so - I thought everyone passed me at the line.
Some numbers for the day:
Peak: 1122w
5s: 991w
13s: 827w (sprint length)
As the course opened for a few minutes Junior asked if he could do a lap. We started out well, the next field lined up, but I realized that we'd run out of time - we'd be finishing the lap as the racers hit the main straight. So we turned left onto the grass, waited for the racers to pass, then he hit the course for the final 50 meters to the line.
The official was understanding enough to let us ride to the line, even with a race underway. Little judgment calls like letting us cross the line makes a huge difference in the impression racing leaves on a kid, and I managed to capture the following because of it.
Bike throw with Junior!
My favorite bike throw of the day. I tried to time it perfectly so he'd pip me at the line, and so he did.
It'll be a few weeks before I can race again, maybe even May, but so far the season has been good. I'll have to pick and choose my races but that's normal. My goal will be to do well at New Britain, and try to partake in some of the Tues night races (instead of just hanging on).
So recently there have been a lot of changes. I just started a new job, I have a new (to me) car, I've been getting stuff done around the house, and we're going to be changing our home schedule a bit to accommodate my job. I've also decided to stop promoting races and, in a related thing, I'll be backing of on the bike racing as well. Dad
I guess the big thing is that I am no longer taking care of my dad. As much as it was the right thing to do, it affected the rest of my life by limiting what I could do, when I could do it. There are a lot of ways to describe the limitations, both negative and positive.
Negative words I think of right away are "shackled" or "trapped". This is because I really couldn't do much because I needed to take my dad with me. As he declined it was possible to sneak out while he was sleeping, which made things a bit easier. Toward the very this reversed itself and I stayed close by to keep an eye on him.
However, when I think of how I was able to care for him, other words come to mind. "Privileged" and "fortunate" come to mind right away. I was very, very lucky to be able to care for my dad. Even with all the tough stuff that happened, the stress and the like, I wouldn't have traded the experience for anything. Work
In the end, though, when my dad passed, it allowed me to think of myself once again. First there was sort of this numb, decompression period, maybe a week, maybe more, where I felt just pulled along by all the things that happens when your dad dies. Then there were a couple frantic weeks of doing estate stuff, with one of my siblings handling much of it.
Then, after the dust settled for me (my sibling still doing estate stuff so not totally settled), maybe a month later, my situation became pretty clear to me. I needed to find a job that paid enough, and, if possible, a job I'd enjoy.
The latter was a bit tough. I wanted to be customer facing, I wanted to work with something that interested me (bikes, cars, not sure what else), and I had to find a position that didn't require too much specialized knowledge while offering me both a reasonable starting salary as well as opportunites for growth. Bonus would be substantially subsidized health care benefits.
Of course I've been thinking of this stuff for almost ten years now so this wasn't an idle thought. I enjoyed my time at the hardware store but the reality is that the position simply didn't offer much growth. It couldn't, much like working in a bike shop has difficulty offering growth.
After about four weeks of lots of searching on Careerbuilder and the like, I realized I was coming back to a particular position over and over. It was basically a sales position (management trainee) at various Firestone Complete Auto Care centers, all of which are (I think) wholly owned by the parent company Bridgestone.
As I pointed out in my previous post, I ended up with the position. I started a few weeks ago and it's been a steep learning curve. I am relearning stuff that I learned in my previous work lives - the car dealer, the hardware store, IT, and the shop. In the process I'm feeling like, okay, I'm starting to get it.
The thing I want to do at some point in the future is build my own team. To me that'd be the ultimate, to build and maintain a cohesive, cooperative, positive group of people into a nicely honed machine. When things go smoothly it's like a big leadout going well, all sorts of diverse elements working together toward a common goal. Just at this job this kind of stuff happens all the time. I caught a glimpse of this the other day (meaning as something based on what I initiated and did, not what others did) and I have to admit that it's extremely enticing. I'm looking forward to the day where I can make such things happen all the time.
What Else?
So what else is happening? Our Cars
Well, for one thing, we've gotten our VW TDI "dieselgate" offers from Volkswagen. In case you don't know about it, VW cheated on emission tests with their diesel cars, to the point that some senior executives are being indicted for various crimes with senior executives told not to travel to the US. VW agreed to buy back almost half a million cars and pay some fines for a record $14 billion or so. That kind of dollar amount is a bit "otherworldly" to me because I can't think of that kind of money.
The Golf in the registration tent.
However, I can think about $10,000 or $20,000, and for us, as VW diesel owners, those are real numbers. VW not only is buying back the diesels but they're paying an additional $5-10,000 for each car as punishment. To give an idea of what our cars are worth in terms of trade in, I'd priced both cars in August 2015, just before Dieselgate hit in September 2015. I wanted to trade in one or both cars to get a more versatile tow vehicle. The dealer offered $9,000 for our Jetta Sportswagen ("JSW") and $12,000 for the Golf, a total of $21,000 for both cars.
$21,000 for both cars.
In contrast, because of Dieselgate, VW paid us $21,600 for the Golf.
Just the Golf.
Golf turned in. Tag on mirror says the car is not for sale.
They will pay us about $17,000 for the JSW.
So as far as we're concerned VW has done right by us.
I used less than half the Golf money to buy a replacement, the Sentra. We've ordered a Civic sedan for the Missus. So we'll have two completely different cars in the garage by March.
House
There's a lot of stuff going on with the house. We live in a single family home located in a condo complex. Therefore we get to have our own house but we don't deal much with outside maintenance. In the next year the condo association will be clearing our area of dead and dying trees (pretty much every large tree near the house, I'm guessing 15 or so large trees and a slew of supporting smaller trees), they'll be re-roofing our house, fixing the wood siding, and painting. It's a lot of work for sure and we're looking forward to the renewed yard/outside in the fall of 2017.
With the roof work we're looking into any roof modification so that we can sort of piggyback the work already scheduled. We'll be adding a sky tube (it's sort of like a skylight that ends in a light fixture lens in the ceiling) to brighten up a dark section of hallway. We're also contemplating having a chimney installed for a pellet stove. With some of the recent single digit temperatures a helper heating source would be a welcome addition to the home heating environment.
There are a lot of projects for inside the house as well. I've had a number of them planned or thought out and finally got around to doing them. Inertia/momentum works in two ways. When things are static it's hard to get going. However when things are in motion it's hard to stop. And now, with things in motion, I've found myself doing little things here and there all the time.
Family - The Missus and Junior
I put this down a bit lower because it's something we handle every day. It's not something like the car where we don't think about it for a bit, or it's a once in a while thing like a new roof on the house. For sure Junior occupies virtually all my free time outside of work. The Missus and I both schedule life around Junior, meaning we tend to work around his schedule. With work that's an added variable, making the intersection between the three schedules even more rare and special.
Things are going great with the Missus and her work so that's not a huge stressor, at least to me. I think for her there are both good and bad days, with seemingly very few of the latter. As a former small business owner I can relate to some things common to owning a small business, although hers is successful and mine was less so.
Once tax season is over her schedule lightens up which means my job will be the limiting factor to our family time.
Junior is doing well too. I'm constantly amazed by the things he does. He remembers stuff so well he's been keeping me on my toes. He's great around people, inquisitive, talkative, energetic, and will even admit defeat if he's tired and go upstairs for nap or bedtime.
Junior enjoys unscrewing the quick release skewer from the wheel.
August 2016.
Note lower profile front wheel, the Stinger 4. It must have been windy that day.
We had to pull Junior out of Pre-K because of my job. He's returned to what is officially a daycare center. The reality is that it's a super effective educational place based on how well prepared he was for Pre-K. A lot of it is him, of course, he learned a lot of stuff sort of on his own, and it's not like we sit down and do vocabulary drills or whatnot. He seems to pick stuff up on his own, with the help of some YouTube clips, Einstein DVDs, Cat in the Hat, and some other educational entertainment. Lately he's gotten into Star Wars stuff so of course he's learning and memorizing all sorts of stuff that doesn't necessarily translate to "education".
Part of our play at Pre-K pick up.
Here we're taking shelter in the doorway to a different part of the school.
Running the Yellow Line.
I told him to stay on the line so he wouldn't veer toward the curb.
Saying hi to the daycare bus driver (a teacher also) and telling her all about his day.
My job will mean a few late nights a week so I'll miss his bedtimes regularly. I think, honestly, that this will be harder for me than him. I knew underneath that eventually it would happen at some point. It's just that it's happening now.
Other Things
One thing I've wanted to do since late 2015 is to get back in some gasoline powered karts. Connecticut has two locations which run gas karts on tracks which suit gas engine characteristics. Gas karts have very little low end torque, requiring a bit of time to build power. Such karts reward smooth driving, good lines, and longer "full throttle" sections of track. On Track Karting (OTK) has two locations with well laid out courses for gas karts.
Back in 2015 I went to each track one time, Wallingford in November, Brookfield in December.
I was hooked.
I bought a helmet (it was a $100 Bell helmet) and an inexpensive action camera. Then life intruded and I could only dream about karting. I watched clips people made of their OTK outings, watching the better drivers over and over again. I memorized the layouts, I knew when to get on the gas, when to ease, leaving just a few areas of doubt ("do I brake here or just coast?" or "how does he initiate turn in here?"). I'd have to get to the track to figure that out.
Recently I went back to Brookfield. I wanted to catch a full evening of driving ("all you can drive from 6 pm until 11 pm"). I got there a bit late but drove for about 4 hours straight, missing only a few heats during that time. Significantly for me I qualified for Pro Karts, based on dropping below a certain minimum lap time for multiple heats. This was my holy grail goal and I managed to hit my marks in the first four or so heats.
43.062 seconds.
I needed to break 43.75 seconds I think.
On seeing my reports on karting a (bike) racing friend reached out to me and offered me a ride in his karts. I have yet to take him up on it (it was 1 deg F outside the next morning) but I hope that I'll be able to experience karts outside later in 2017. Indoors I don't think we go much faster than 30-35 mph in the 6.5 hp regular karts, but outside he says his slow kart (similar to an indoor 9 hp Pro Kart) will hit 50+ mph. His fast kart will apparently hit the 70+ mph range.
After my solo outing to Brookfield I got in touch with my friend that first introduced me to OTK with a bunch of car nuts. We made plans for a repeat night out at the Wallingford track. It was sort of like a "group kart" experience, versus a group ride, with a 7 of us meeting up to kart. Five of us were Pro Kart qualified so for two heats we blitzed the course in the fast karts. It was my first time in them and it was eye opening. They were so much faster in certain sections that I had to relearn how to approach them.
2nd heat in the Pro Karts, top of the leaderboard.
"Frank", a regular, said that "mid-37s are respectable".
The best time in December at that time was in the 35.xxx range. That's fast!
I look forward to doing Brookfield in the Pro Karts. I hope one day to do the actual racing. It won't happen soon I think but there are some pretty long races. In a 10 minute heat I got in 15 laps at Wallingford. I did 16 minutes in Brookfield, two 8 minute heats back to back, and that was a bit fatiguing. In contrast the long kart races are 100 laps long!
Cycling
One conspicuous absence in all of this is anything bike related. The reason for this blog is cycling, of course, and my main interest for 35 years has been cycling. With an almost off year in 2016, with just several Tuesday Night races checked off, 2017 doesn't seem to offer much more. For me, as a promoter, racing has always had two sides: promoting and racing. There's a third bit, maintenance, and I'll kick off with that.
Maintenance
For the last two years I put literally zero dollars into my bike. I rewrapped the same tape around my bars a few times. I think I glued one tire on, a tire I had "in stock". I still have maybe 10 or 12 new tubular tires, ready to be mounted. I even have a few rolls of tape but I was jealously hoarding them for when I really needed new tape.
With the new job (as well as an economical car purchase) I've gotten to the point where I can think about spending some money on the bike. I need to overhaul my two SRMs, both of which are not working. I want to get a second stem so the black bike can be fitted like my red bike. I bought two new training clinchers for if I start training outside again. It's maybe six or seven hundred dollars but that's more than I felt comfortable spending in the last two years. Now, though, I feel like I can do it. Not just yet, but in the near future.
As a last bit I may try and get a second set of new-style 10 speed levers, Centaur I think, so the cockpits on both bikes match.
I did go and get one new cassette and a slew of used ones, from a good friend of mine. I hope that this gets me through the next year or three in terms of drivetrain maintenance.
Promoting or Lack Thereof
A big bike thing for me is promoting. With my new job I need to work Sundays from February through mid-April.
This means no Spring Series.
That's 100%. No giving it a shot, no trying, for me I'm done.
I've been on the fence about ending my promotion work, promising myself not to promote "next year". I've thought about my exit strategy, if you will. There are two significant investments in Carpe Diem Racing that I have - the trailer (legally it's Carpe Diem Racing property) and the tow vehicle (legally just a personal vehicle), both of which I wouldn't own except that I promoted races. Selling the trailer first, then the Expedition tow vehicle second, would seal the "no more promoting" decision. Even though I promoted races before I had them, if I sold them then mentally I'd be done.
I was telling someone about this stuff the other day and the one thing I'd want to get is a pick up, van, or minivan large enough to haul around a snowblower or a couch or something. With just two compact cars we can't carry much of anything if we didn't have the Expedition or the trailer.
Trailer at the 2016 Aetna Silk City Cross race.
To be clear I didn't promote the race, I only helped with registration.
Credit for the race goes to Jon, David, and the rest of the Expo crew.
So... If you're a promoter looking for a trailer and tow vehicle, let me know. Heh.
(For reference I spent $23k to buy them and I'd sell them for significantly less. Emphasis on the word "significantly". Trailer is a 8.5'x20' car hauler, 3500 lbs axles so 7000 lbs gross weight, about 3600 lbs load capacity as it's about 3400 lbs empty. Expedition is rated at 8900 lbs towing, give or take. I was thinking the trailer could act as a portable garage if it came down to it. Or a portable, heatable, miniature garage where I could work on my car. Waitaminute. Hm.) Racing
For the actual racing bit I don't foresee much improvement in my schedule from 2016. I hope I'll make some races, but with my work schedule in flux typically week by week, I have absolutely no idea if I can race a week in the future, even a Tuesday night (there are some nights I'm at work until 8 or 9 PM or even later). This makes planning on doing any races sort of pointless. Pre-reg is no longer a thought. Targeting a peak or "A Race" is simply impossible. I'm okay with that, although with no real goals in mind it's hard to motivate to get on the bike.
June 2016.
Bike as I have it set up now.
I did make a "racer gambit" at the beginning of my current job. When they asked me pants size I gave them my 160 lbs waist size. I was already pushing about 168 lbs, and now I'm over 170 lbs. I literally cannot gain much more weight else I won't fit my pants.
Since they've given me eleven pairs of pants I'm sort of committed to that waist size. This means losing some weight and keeping it off. I managed to get down a few pounds in the last three weeks. If nothing else this will help with my racing.
So that's what's going on so far. Hopefully I'll have more updates a bit quicker in the future.
Although he could walk on his own I didn't want him falling so I held his hand while walking.
We walked a little less than a mile in 21 minutes that day.
For those that don't know my dad has been at my house since the beginning of 2016. He's been unable to care for himself for a while so, after many years of one of my brothers looking after him, I accepted the "care baton". We had no idea how much time he had left. Initially I thought maybe a year, but that was just some random guess/feel thing. After a month or two, with my dad totally stable in his abilities, I thought that he could stay stable for years.
Of course that wasn't the case. Every month or so I'd notice a decline somewhere, and, cumulatively, it was more than he could bear.
Hospice
I initiated hospice care the Saturday before which was October 15. I didn't really "start" it, it was really like "signing up" for it. Actual care really started on Tuesday when the first person showed up, and, I suppose, it really started Wednesday when his regular nurse arrived for her first, and, unexpectedly, her last visit.
For the uninitiated hospice care is basically "end of life" care. The expectation is that the family would initiate hospice care up to 6 months before death, with government coverage designed to handle at most 6 months of hospice.
The thing is that I didn't think he needed hospice just yet. Maybe a few weeks ago I got him up in the afternoon. Junior had just fallen asleep for his afternoon nap so it was a perfect time, I could pay attention to my dad and not worry about Junior getting tangled up in our feet or asking me about dinosaurs or whatever. I showered and dressed my dad then walked with him out of his room.
I meant to walk him to the kitchen table (the only eating table in the house) to feed him. Instead he veered off intentionally, heading directly to the steps leading upstairs. We'd gated the stairs off when he first moved here because he immediately started going up and down the stairs (with us spotting him). We were worried he'd fall down if he got up them on his own. Recently, though, we removed the gates since we always walked with him due to his somewhat unsteady walk.
That morning, at the first step of the ungated stairs, he paused and looked at me.
Then he looked up, lifted his foot, and started up the stairs with a purpose.
Although a bit wary I let him climb the stairs, one step at a time. If he wants to go up the stairs then he should go up the stairs. He wobbled a bit as expected but I never had to really support him, just spot him, and he made it up to the top of the stairs. Then he walked directly into Junior's room, walked around his bed (the bed has walls on three sides), and stood at the open side looking down at the napping Junior.
Junior's bed. The doorway is in the background, Bella is hanging out.
You can see how walking around the bed would give a better view of the bed.
After watching Junior sleep for maybe a "moment of silence" amount of time he turned and walked out the room, to the stop of the stairs. I quickly got past him at the top of the stairs to spot him from the front. Although this time I had to catch him a few times he made it down pretty well. Then, after visiting the front door and the kitchen he finally walked to his chair at the table and waited for me to help him sit down.
This didn't seem very "end of life" to me.
He did weaken significantly in the next couple weeks but still, this was something I remember pretty vividly.
Nonetheless we started talking about hospice, eventually resulting in me asking for a meeting with the hospice care providers for a meeting. I figured I should at least figure out what I need to do when he was closer to "end of life". That prompted the Saturday visit by a nurse. She did a preliminary assessment, declared him relatively fit but at the same time definitely meeting the criteria for hospice care. These include the person being not ambulatory on his own, not intaking much, not talking, losing significant weight, and being incontinent. My dad was all of them; at that point he weighed about 109 lbs, down from the 130 lbs in January, and his normal 160 lbs or so.
That Saturday, October 15, we made appointments for various people to visit the next week. The nurse wanted to have a health care aide 5-7 days a week. I initially declined because, you know, I can do all that stuff myself, but then we compromised and decided maybe 2-3 days would be good. The first visit from the aide would be Tuesday. As standard protocol the nurse had a counselor schedule a visit, as much for the family as for him. That was scheduled for Wednesday. Then of course his assigned nurse would come in, do a more detailed assessment, and bring me up to speed on what I'd need to do to care for my dad. After some negotiation we decided that the nurse would be at the house Wednesday as well.
Keep in mind that at this time I didn't think he really needed hospice care. I did know that things were changing, but to me it seemed hospice might be a few weeks away.
Once initiated the hospice program gets a lot of things rolling. Before hospice I was sort of struggling to learn things as it became necessary to learn them. It wasn't like I had to learn all sorts of complicated things, but it was still stuff that I'd discover the hard way, either asking my brother for tips, Googling things myself, or realizing I needed to do this or that otherwise my dad would do that or this. Although perhaps just one small thing at a time, it was a constant "learning and adjusting" thing.
In contrast, after hospice kicked in, I felt like I suddenly became part of a well oiled machine, all the parts humming along. Everyone had a task, they were good at it, and they took the newbie (me) in like I was a new teammate in a cohesive team. I learned a lot of little tricks in the two days hospice care people visited the house. Even the admitting nurse taught me some tips that Saturday.
A significant thing is that they knew the drill. They knew what to expect, what was normal. For me every change was sort of like "omg what do I do now?!" For them it was just another normal, expected thing.
My dad made it four days from that Saturday, one visit per person. I guess if nothing else my dad was super efficient. No wasted resources there. For anyone that knew him it was completely appropriate.
Family
My dad and me, 2007.
I know, he must be so proud, right?
Photo by Matthew Wagner
My dad existed for his family, living his life as a duty to provide for his wife and his kids. By "provide" he felt the duty to support his wife until her death and support his kids until they were married. Apparently this was his definition of "leaving the nest". I was the last of the kids to get married, in 2007, and at that time he told us: "My wife is dead, my kids are married, I've fulfilled my duty, I am ready to die now."
That statement notwithstanding he cared for the earlier grandkids, the first of which arrived just a week and change after my mom passed. He helped out around the house as much as he could. But slowly, inexorably, he deteriorated.
In the end it's how he arranged his things that says a lot about how he and our mom raised us.
Before his facilities diminished too much my dad gave each of us four siblings equal and complete power of attorney over everything in his life. No checks or balances, just 100% outright power in each of the siblings. The lawyer writing all this up was pretty surprised at this, even questioning us to make sure that the law firm wasn't misunderstanding anything, or perhaps my dad wasn't aware of the implications.
He was.
This meant that any one of us could have, say, changed his will. Any one of us could have absconded with all of my dad's assets, legally, without telling anyone else. Even though none of us did that stuff, at the very least there might have been arguing about who should do what. Instead we all agreed on everything, together, without hesitation. To me this is a reflection of how our parents raised us, taught us.
A related thing is that we felt it necessary to look after our dad at one of our homes. This wasn't a specific wish of his, but it's something we felt necessary. We put some of our own lives aside in order to do this; one brother really took the brunt of it, and when he finally started cracking my other brother and myself both stepped up. Because of various logistical reasons we all decided that having my dad come to my house made the most sense. He moved in with us the last day of 2015, I think we finished getting him settled in a little before 11 PM on Dec 31st, New Year's Eve, 2015.
I can't begin to describe how much time, energy, and stress caring for an elderly person can put on a family. I've spoken to a lot of people who have gone through the same thing. It's not anything super intense, like say dealing with a fire or a flood, nor is it super complex, like neurosurgery, but it's just relentless. I can sort of relate to the never ending stream of, say, mail, and the whole "going postal" thing. The continuous demands of caring for a family member can be very draining psychologically, which affects you at every level.
It got to the point where, a couple months in, I was privately wondering if our marriage would survive, it was that bad. The stress ended up tempering my relationship with the Missus instead of breaking it, making it stronger, but like the initial stages of heat treating or welding, it didn't look very good for a while.
The End
Although we went through this end of life thing with my mom I seemed to have forgotten a lot of details in the 13 years that have passed. The hospice nurse explained to me some things, like if he was breathing a bit quicker it meant he was distressed. We'd treat him for discomfort (pain and anxiety) per his wishes.
The hospice nurse made her first visit on Wednesday, October 19. I had a weird night going into it, meaning on Tuesday, October 18. Normally I don't drink alcohol but for some reason I decided I needed a drink sort of late on Tuesday night. Usually when I have a drink it's because someone offers at a special occasion, but for me to initiate wanting a drink is pretty abnormal. Out of the blue, before I really realized what I was saying, I announced to the Missus that I wanted a drink. She was surprised but, perhaps, in some way, it wasn't too outlandish, given the situation. After all the whole year had just been one thing after another.
I got some tequila out to make a margarita. We keep the alcohol in a cabinet up high so I was standing on a stool to retrieve the bottle. I bent down and started pouring myself a bit into a cup below me on the counter. I couldn't tell how I'd poured because I was looking at the cup from above, not from the side. Also I'm no bartender so I don't instinctively stop at an ounce or whatever. The Missus watched me pour.
"That's a lot of tequila!" the Missus exclaimed.
I quickly stopped pouring.
When I climbed down I realized that I'd probably poured myself two shots worth of tequila. I put in a lot of mix, took a sip, and started coughing. The Missus couldn't help but giggle a bit. Although I didn't look up through my watering eyes and state through my coughs that "wow, that's pretty smooth", I think that's the only thing that was missing from the picture.
The Missus got me a couple ice cubes, I waited for it to dilute just a bit, then I drank it. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I went to sleep.
About 4 or 5 hours later I snapped awake. My first thought was the only reason I'd wake up like this was because of my dad so I hurried downstairs to check on him. He was breathing very heavily, normal cadence but it sounded labored. I wasn't sure what to do so I watched for a while, he seemed to be stable and asleep, so I headed back upstairs.
For me the operative term was "stable". "Stable" implies no changes so it's a good thing.
I woke up again and after some breakfast waited for the nurse. She arrived, watched him for all of, I don't know, 15 seconds, and started getting busy. She did all sorts of stuff, arranging him on the bed, raising and lowering bed stuff, asking for blankets and pillows and putting them here and there, and giving medication to clear my dad's mouth and make him feel less distressed. I noted what she did and basically my dad seemed a lot more comfortable. He was laying on his side, curled up like Junior taking a nap.
At some point she said that we were in the "days or weeks" time frame, not the "hours or minutes". That's one of those things you want to ask but you're not sure when it's appropriate. You don't want to blurt out, "So how long, nurse?", but at the same time you really want to get some kind of a time frame. It was good she mentioned it on her own. I figure it must be protocol.
Somewhere about that time I decided to call my siblings, I think while the nurse took care of some tasks like cleaning up my dad and such. My two brothers could drive from work immediately. One had probably 4 hours to get here, the other maybe 7. Unfortunately my sister couldn't make it that day because she had to fly across the country and that isn't a "right now" kind of thing - it would be tomorrow night before she could arrive.
A few hours into her visit his breathing was a bit fast, about 30 breaths per minute. Normal is a bit slower, 15-20 or so. We gave my dad some medicine but it generally takes a bit of time for it to kick in, especially since he stopped swallowing anything in the last day or so. For practice the nurse had me give him the last dosage of everything he'd gotten so I felt okay taking care of him. The nurse double checked that I was okay with the medicine procedure, I told her yes, we reviewed my tasks, and she left.
I checked my dad often. I remember being sick as a kid, laying in bed with a fever, and my mom and dad coming in to check on me. They'd wipe my forehead with a towel dipped in a water and rubbing alcohol solution, the alcohol evaporating quicker to cool me down better. I don't know if that was a known thing back in the day or if it was something my chemical engineer dad would have done.
We knew it was serious if they then had us take an aspirin, an orange flavored chewable, I think they were St John's or St Joseph's or something like that. After they finished with whatever they'd wrap me up, tucking in the blanket under our sides. My mom was a bit softer, the blanket wasn't as far underneath me, and of course it would loosen after a bit. My dad would tuck the blanket in more; when he tucked in the blanket you knew it. It felt like you were a snug little burrito. It'd still be snug when you woke up an hour or two later.
I didn't snug up the blanket around my dad but I made sure he was all covered. His torso felt really warm although his extremities were a bit less so. I made sure his face was clear so he could breathe okay.
I was expecting his breathing to slow down once the meds kicked in. Problem was that his breathing actually sped up. I called the nurse and reported that his breathing wasn't slowing at all and in fact it was up to about 60 breaths a minute, one a second. If you try breathing that fast (I tried it while I was counting) you'll realize that it's very, very fast for someone that's super weak and laying in bed. The nurse told me to give him the various "use in case of emergency" doses of medications as he was clearly distressed.
She also told me that my dad was deteriorating even quicker than she anticipated and were were now in the "minute and hours" range. This was a big change from the more relaxed "days and weeks" statement just a few hours before.
I hoped my brothers could make it here quickly.
I gave my dad the various medications (something to clear phlegm and two other things). I waited for a half hour, rolling his wheelchair up to the bed so I could sit in it while I watched him. His breathing didn't change much at all. At some point I went and moved one of the cars out of the driveway so one of my brothers could park next to the house - he'd be arriving shortly, like in 45 minutes; the other I expected in a few hours.
When I came back in my dad was breathing extremely slowly, like a breath every 10 to 15 seconds. I called the nurse again. At her request I timed his breathing. Three breaths in 32 seconds, 5 or 6 breaths a minute. Obviously this was a significant change from panting at 60 breaths a minute. After a brief discussion she let me go after making me promise to call her as things changed. Now that I know a bit more I have a feeling that she knew what was happening and she wanted me to be present with my dad for his last minutes here, not be talking on the phone.
I hit the Off button on the home phone. I sat there in the wheelchair, next to my dad on the hospital bed. I had my stopwatch (an app on my smartphone) in my right hand, the home phone in the left. I was counting breaths, which, at that point, was more like counting how many seconds between breaths.
I reset the stopwatch and waited for him to take a breath.
He took a breath so I hit the start button. The timer started racing along, counting off the seconds until the next breath. In a bike race, when I'm timing a break's gap, time crawls by so slowly. I figure the break has to have 20 seconds and it's really 12. Here it raced by; I was hoping for 10 seconds and it was already, whatever, 15 seconds.
My dad looked as comfortable as he could be, curled up in bed, wrapped in a blanket. His hands were up across his chest and neck, his legs bent a bit and his knees up a bit. His eyes were mostly closed so he looked completely at ease, curled up like maybe Junior when Junior's asleep.
I resisted the temptation to tuck in the blankets firmly around him.
My dad took a breath, a big one.
I glanced down. The stopwatch showed 32 seconds. 32 seconds. That was a long interval. I let the stopwatch run. My mind wasn't really processing things. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss the time when he took his next breath. Otherwise there were no changes, no movements or anything.
Stable is good, right?
At some point, out of the corner of my eye, I saw 32 flash by again. By the time I focused on the stopwatch it showed 1:35, a minute 35, numbers racing by even as the 32 registered in my head.
It meant that over a minute had passed and my dad hadn't taken a breath.
That got my attention.
I looked closer at him. He didn't look any different, still curled up like he was taking a nap. I got up and crouched over him. His fingertips were cool, but they were before. His toes were cool, but they were before. His head was cool up top, warmer toward his chin, like before. His chest was warm.
Like before. That was stable, right?
I held his wrist.
I thought to myself that I hadn't taken his pulse recently so I wasn't sure how it would feel. I couldn't feel anything but I was starting to get a bit agitated and I couldn't calm myself down to feel for a feeble pulse. I checked his neck for a pulse also, but, again, I wasn't able to do it. I didn't know what his heart rate was when the nurse checked in the morning so I had no point of reference. I did notice one thing.
His chest wasn't moving at all.
At some point, I don't know when but I think after about 2 minutes, I realized that he still hadn't taken a breath.
I straightened up.
I walked out of the room and down the hallway, the one my dad walked through over and over just a few months ago when he'd do laps around the first floor of the house. I remember it was a bit dim, I don't know if the light was on or not, or maybe I wasn't seeing quite right.
The Missus was standing there.
"I think my dad just died."
After
We had a very simple gathering for him. We knew he wouldn't want anything for himself but I think it was for all of us to pay our respects to him. I think of it now and it felt like a celebration of his life, which was perfect.
As a bonus we learned all sorts of stuff about him. It's unfortunate that the stories come out after the fact, but, still, now at least we can enjoy them. I learned a lot about his professional career, just how significant it was to those of us in the modern world. I am thinking about putting something together something on that for later, but I'm not sure what I feel comfortable posting. We'll see.
I also got to see him as more of a peer, at least in the grand scheme of things. To me my dad was always "my dad". We called him Daddy, even now; my updates to my siblings were titled "Daddy update". To me he was one of the two adults of the family and I was always one of the kids. But to his peers he was a peer. He was the guy they met when he got hit by a car and declined getting x-rays because he was "fine", or the guy that taught them how to be the best engineer possible, or the guy that unexpectedly cracked jokes at work, or whatever.
As my mom deteriorated back in 2003 she realized that the Nutmeg State Games were coming up. She asked me if I was going to go defend my fortuitous 2002 Nutmeg State Games gold medal. I told her no, I'd do that "after". I also told her I'd win the Bethel Spring Series for her. She knew what I meant by "after" and she was okay with it. I didn't tell anyone else about my promises because, really, how could I possibly tell someone I was going to accomplish those two things? Plus, at the time, I weighed something like 210 pounds, and, yeah, I could barely ride a bike. In fact I had to size up because I couldn't pedal the bike without kneeing myself in the gut.
Nevertheless, after some intense races (and losing a lot of weight), in 2005 I won the Series in a super tight finish. In 2006 I got the Gold at Nutmeg State Games.
2005 Bethel Spring Series
I didn't commit myself this time to doing anything, even privately. The end came so quickly I ended up wrapped up in the details of things instead of thinking of bigger broader. Whatever I do, though, I hope to do honor by my dad.
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