Tears on my toptube...

I was able to sit normally on my bike for 30 minutes on the trainer yesterday. Hallelujah! I sinched up my splints as tight as I could, rested with the aluminum plate resting on the bar tops and cried through my bike as SRV cried through his guitar over the stereophonic music machine. Beautimous! There is light at the end of this tunnel and next season begins yesterday. Now I can hopefully keep my head in the game and put up with a month of trainer riding...

Jasper got his second yellow belt in taekwondo. I'm so proud of him! This is alot of work for a not-quite-six-year-old. He has to memorize forms, safety tips, life lessons and definitions as well as just exhibit some level of profficiency at different kinds of kicks, jabs and punches. Sometimes he balks at some of the work but he's decided he wants to stick with it. When I was his age my biggest skill was picking my nose...







They don't do halloween costumes at Jasper's school. Instead they dress up in traditional clothes. It's pretty cool seeing alot of the other families bringing their kids in their traditional costumes. But we're boring americans with no families coming over in at least four generations so we go with the American pioneer thing. Jasper, however, decided he was an Australian mountain man. Okay!

I've been working alot harder lately on trying to be more patient and pay attention to what Kris has been telling me for at least a year now. The idea is to parent with positiveness. It goes beyond encouragement, showing pride and taking time to spend a kind word as reward. The idea is to give positive reinforcement for doing the right things. For the longest time I thought this was just ridiculous. "Should I follow him around saying, 'Thanks for not kicking the dogs, Jasper. Thanks for not putting holes in the walls. And thanks for not throwing rocks through the windows.'" It doesn't work that way and I don't seem to possess the verbal skills this morning to explain it but basically I now work harder on noticing when he's doing things right and being good and saying something about it rather than just expecting that to happen and then only yelling when he does something wrong. Lo and behold, it seems to kind of work. If anything, the positive attention puts him in a better mood and encourages to do the things that got that positive attention. Sometimes when you're the only kid around you probably need attention so it's good when he does good things to get attention instead of breaking a window or something.

Anyway, speaking of the lad, he's setting up a game right now so this will remain unedited, hurried, and probably make no sense! Priorities!

33 Days Later...

I've been running four or five miles three or four times a week for the last three weeks and that's about all my knees can take. And that's all dirt road and trail miles. Sidewalks and roads are just not do-able. I still not supposed to put the amount of weight that leaning on my handlebars would require on the trainer so I've only been on it a couple of times sitting bolt upright and very unsatisfied. Around the house I watch Kris doing EVERYTHING and I feel like crap. She's been super about this but I still feel badly.

On the bright side the forced computer time at work has really made my software come together with alot more focus and dedication than it normally would. Sometimes I forget that my job is really pretty cool. Tap some code here, figure out a problem there, then (literally) set things in motion and grin.

Nothin' earth moving today. Just a moment in front of the computer...

Rule with an iron example

I love being a Dad. It doesn't mean I'm necessarily good at it but I try. I examine, I analyze and I try to fix things that I think aren't working in my role.

The other day I was walking my son into school after having had what we call in our house, "a hard morning." I often fall into the trap of fighting too hard for the individual battles when it is the complete war that I need to focus on. Sometimes we parents need to let go a little bit and back off and concentrate on the whole picture. I don't remember the particulars of this particular morning but I know that I was probably grumpier, louder and more stubborn than I would like to admit. When this happens, my and my son's personalities are like oil and water. It gets loud. It gets emotional. It gets embarassing to me when I finally get over myself and calm down.

So we had one of those mornings. By the time we got to school I was still maybe a little grumpier and a little torqued with my son for making it such a hard morning (conveniently overlooking my own part in the situational mood). We walked into school and as we went down the hallway to the classroom door I looked down at the center of my universe holding onto my hand. He had flipped his sunglasses up onto the top of his head like a raised visor and his hair was pushed up and splayed straight up in random directions by the glasses. Without thinking about it I reached up onto the top of my own head where I had done the same thing with my own glasses.

I kissed him goodbye for the day and proceded on to the adult part of my day. But it suddenly occured to me that even when I'm being a bit of an obstinant asshole of a father, my son is still watching. He's still sponging up how to act. He's learning to sometimes raise his voice and to argue a petty detail instead of rising above and staying calm. And this reminder brings me to a calmer place as a parent. Because he's learning alot more from me than just where to put his sunglasses when he goes indoors.

Patience...

Had surgery last Wednesday to repair both scaphoids with neat titanium screws.

After the surgery I was violently ill throwing up all day as is normal for me and pain killers. Kris says, "I don't know how you do these things without taking anything." Pain is easier than pain plus puking. It's that simple.

Got the giant splints off this morning after five horrible days of not being able to do SQUAT. Stiches removed and more x-rays. All looks good so far. Now I'm in wrist braces but at least they are removable and I can at least resume taking normal showers - albeit gingerly.
Recovery will be eight to twelve weeks of limiting my handwork to 5 pounds and then moving up to ten to fifteen pounds in order to avoid stripping the threads and rebreaking the bones. That means no real work beyond typing and some light electronics work. It also means NO BIKE quite possibly for the rest of the year... OUCH! As you may know (if you know me or don't look too far back through this blog) I was mondo-PSYCHED and fit for cyclocross season. Now there won't even BE a cyclocross season. This has been a very very hard pill to swallow but I'm trying to not let it get me too down...

Doctor said I can run, though. I'm not much of a runner and I kind of generally loath it as a form of excercise but I'll want to keep in shape so I can bite that bullet for the next two or three months.

In other news. My son is a complete goofball..... I wonder where he gets that from?

"What Happened To You???"

I imagine I'm going to be hearing that question alot for awhile so here's the short story (since typing is a pain in the wrists...)

Got up early Sunday morning with the intention of knocking out 40 miles before it got hot and to try to do some riding while the family was still sleeping. I felt good and it was a wonderful morning so I decided to tack on another ten miles that sent me a little ways up mount Hamilton. As I rode up to my turn around spot, the temperatures were starting to come up. I turned around and started struggling with the zipper on my Louis Garneau vest. Louis G. sucks ass and so do his zippers. While distracted by my fucking stupid stuck-ass piece of shit Louis Garneau zipper, I overcooked a corner. Before you can say, "That boy's going down," I was off in the gravel. This wasn't so bad but I could see a large cutout for a culvert dead ahead and knew I was toast. "No no no no No nO NO NO NO/" (I distinctly remember crying out to no good result) --- WHAM!!!

Tumble.
Ouch.
Deflect my torpedoed bike off my arm and back.
Tumble.
"I'm okay. I'm okay."

Stand up slowly.
Whoa. Maybe not okay. My left wrist was sore. Hmmm. So was the right one.

Front wheel tweeked but still rolling.

Both legs bleeding down into my socks from many places. Blood on hip coming through shorts. Both elbows bleeding. Yep, that was a good one.

I got back on the bike and, uh oh, the old boy isn't straight anymore. I must have bent the forks.

Over the next few miles the legs felt good. Back felt good. Head was clear. But both hands were not working right. It was difficult to hold the brakes and the only position tolerable was to rest the heals of my hands on the tops.

The 25 miles home were made much easier by a nice guy who caught up to me as I gingerly descended one of the hills and he rode with me and distracted me from my pain over most of the way home.

That said, let the record show that Roy is a tough SOB who rode 25 miles on two broken hand/wrists.

Later that day Urgent Care X-Ray showed a very well defined break in my left scaphoid and a "suspicious" crack in my right one. Now I am in two splints. The ortho doctor today has sent me on to a hand specialist tomorrow. Likely outcome right now is surgery on the left hand to get over this the quickest. Right hand? Don't know. Maybe just a cast. Maybe it's not broken but the Doctor today said it has all indications of a less severe break in the same damn bone.

More later, must put the young prince to bed with some reading time now. Typing this has been surprising easy with my thumbs immobilized by the splints/casts. Kind of hurts, though.

Hellyer Wed. Night Omnium. August 26, 2009

Last Wed. night race of the year! I really wanted to make a mark but simply didn't have the legs all night. I only manged one point on the first points race. The miss and out was horrible. I knew there was a guy behind me but he basically dropped off and so they pulled me instead of him. D'OH! The last points race was FAST. Easily one of the two or three fastest races of the year. I was happy to have a brief moment off the front and then survive and not get dropped.

NOT TRACK: San Ardo Follow Up...
Met a guy who recognized me from San Ardo. I asked, "I didn't push you did I?" Luckily he was not someone I managed to piss off. In fact he gave the best complement you can give a bike racer telling me I was one of the ones he had his eye on and that I was dropping three or five guys on some of those hills but that they were able to claw back on every time. Too bad no one else was willing to help me keep that hot pace going. Oh well. So San Ardo was a 10th place. Truthfully, given my barely functioning legs at the finish I was surprised to learn I placed that well (keep in mind it was a very small field). NEXT YEAR!

Other stuff in my life...

I actually saw this video on another cycling blog but see what they're doing at 25 seconds to 40 seconds? Yeah, that's what I do to pay the bills only I attach alot of junk to it and fly it on airplanes. I wish I could make it track that fast, however!!!