End of the line...for now

The Short Bus is going in for repairs. It's one thing to provide fun and witty posts, but another when they start to get too personal and negative. Time for an oil change...or maybe this will become one of those buses you see rusting in a Kudzu overgrown backyard in rural Georgia. Time will tell.

Nineteen

Paul Hardcastle wrote a hit song in 1985(?) simply called "Nineteen". It referred to the average age of a soldier in the Vietnam War. Not exactly uplifting...but a pretty good beat, nonetheless.

Nineteen was the number my dad used most commonly when racing cars. Naturally, it's been a number I've tried to acquire in every sport I've done. The first time I remember having the number 19 was by pure coincidence...or was it?

I knew I liked to run at an early age. In middle school I competed in some summer track meets. In Junior High I was part of my first organized team. During the first couple of weeks of practice the coaches made us run long distance, regardless of your event, to "weed out" the weak people. I ran like a scalded dog during those first weeks.

There were 40 pairs of sweats that the school owned. The first day of practice they were handed out to the 9th graders, but could be "earned" by lowerclassmen who worked hard and showed promise. At the end of the first week there would be a list posted of those who had earned (and lost) sweats. As an underclassman, you were expected to go to the locker of the person whose sweats you earned and ask them for them....talk about intimidating.

I don't remember the name of the guy whose sweats I was to take after that first week, but I remember he was BIG. I bucked up, walked over and said "I believe I'm supposed to get your sweats". He wasn't happy, but handed them over. They were number 19.....I never gave them up.

Ther have been several instances where that number came up and I was pleasantly surprised. The fact that Olivia was born on June 19, at 8:19 didn't faze me. Obviously, today I interviewed for a job that I desperately want on the 19th. It's a small thread to hang on to, but I'll take it.

Happy Birthday, Olivia!

Six years ago, about this time, Olivia was getting poop cleaned off of her while hanging out under incubator lights. I was the beaming proud father of a little girl. Today, that little girl read her own birthday cards....without my help.

I'm sure that everyone feels like their kids grow up fast. In reality, a lot has happened in that time. I feel like I've done all that I can to give her a decent life. She doesn't have happily married parents like I envisioned, but her mom and I have done what we can to make sure she feels loved and we've probably done a better job than most at letting her know that her parents don't hate each other.

Today was my interview with Children's Healthcare of Atlanta. I took a one hour writing test that was excruciating. It wasn't perfect, but I don't think that I did so miserably as to take myself out of the running. Then it was on to a one hour interview with a panel of four. They took turns asking 10 different questions. I was to answer with examples of how I had handled problems. It actually went very well. I think I used a wide variety of examples that were pretty pertinent to the questions. I got a good vibe from the four people that might one day be my colleauges.

Apparently there will be a "phase II" interview for those that make the cut in the preliminary interviews. I'm pretty confident that I'll be called back, but I have to wait at least a week before they make their decisions. The pressure has made me sick to my stomach. This is a job I not only want, but need.

Headed home to NC to see my parents this weekend. I need some time away to unwind.

What a week/weekend.

Olivia finished High School Musical Camp on Friday with a show at camp. I was able to alter my schedule to go watch. What a production. Olivia did wonderful. Caught it on tape and am trying to figure out how to put a clip of it on the old blog. We'll see. I watched the tape with her this morning and teared up a bit.

Olivia had a birthday party yesterday - I wasn't able to make it because of work. This morning I went and got her a bagel and was able to spend about an hour with her for Father's Day, then off to work again.

I have an interview for a job that I really want on Thursday. I am calling on all my resources and contacts to help me out. I haven't interviewed in years, but I'm thinking I'll do OK. I have to take a writing test, which in the past has never scared me. Now I'm nervous as hell.

I can feel the tension returning like I had when I was going through my divorce. There were times when I could barely get out of bed from the muscle spasms I had in my back. It's on the verge of locking up again, but I'm just punishing myself with exercise the last few days. I lead the group ride that leaves from our shop this morning. I usually ride easy, but I drilled it a few times and left everyone on every hill we climbed.

There are some other things that are just crappy in my life right now, but I'd just rather not spill my guts on the internet. If I landed this job my life would improve in so many areas.

Tiger Woods may be the most amazing athlete I've ever seen. If you don't think golf is a sport, that's fine, but I've never seen someone with more mental toughness and confidence than that guy. For the amount of time the guys spends in the spotlight he's also the closest to a pure role model that a kid could have. Not many of those left anymore.

PS - Finished second Friday night at poker. Got my money back and enough more to half fill the car with gas - not bad. I was outchipped by a bunch when it got down to Matt and myself. I won 14 straight hands. Then I went all in with pocket 10's. Matt called with King/Jack of spades. He hit three straight cards to make a flush. Kind of a crappy way to lose the hand, but I played it correctly.

It's in the cards

Haven't talked about poker much because I haven't played much lately. I took a 4 month hiatus from my regular game because finances are just too tight to risk losing. However, I played a few weeks ago and looked back at my "poker log" and realized that playing poker (in my case) is rarely not profitable!

I've been playing with the same group of guys for over 8 years. We typically have a $60 buy-in. Depending on how many of us play, the winner usually takes home about $200. We'll pay 3 positions if 6 or more play - 3rd just gets back his buy-in.

When I played a few weeks ago it came down to Robert and me. We both knew we'd make money, so we decided it was late and we'd just split the top two positions - each of us got about $125. I'm going to use my winnings to play again tomorrow night.

When I got home, I entered my winnings into my poker log and realized that I had just exceeded $7,000 in gross winnings since I started keeping track! I've got a net gain of just under $5,000, and I calculated that I either break even or win money 59% of the time I play.

What's more interesting is my success in "big" games. We used to hold a 64 man tournament every year. I played in it twice and won it all the last time (about $2300). We stopped that tournament about 4 years ago, but we still try and have at least one game of 24 or more guys. I've made it to the final table, meaning I get paid, in 4 of the 7 times we've played - winning it all once, finishing 3rd another time. I also won the only casino tournament I've ever played in at the Stratosphere in Las Vegas.

Many will argue that poker is luck. Not really. There wouldn't be professional players if it just came down to luck. I play an aggressive game and I'm good at reading my opponents. I win more hands forcing others to fold when I know they have a better hand than me. From what I've watched and read, this is what seperates the pros from the joes.

Another observation I made (no surprise here) is that I play better sober - not a drop. I stopped drinking at all while playing a couple of years ago. In the past, I'd have a beer an hour - no, I've never driven home even buzzed. I just don't concentrate as well.

I'm not gonna get rich playing the 6 guys in my group, but I usually like my odds of being able to treat myself to a nice dinner that weekend!

Ground Zero

The shit is about to hit the fan. I'm officially fed up with my life the way it is. Last week, I made a deadline - August 1. I'll be mowing lawns or working at a new career. It's not what I'd call "set in stone", but it's as definitive as I can be right now. Anybody that reads this: If you need someone with above average intelligence and a willingness to do almost anything then contact me. I'm tired of trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I know I can do whatever is set in front of me. Working retail hours for lousy pay is not my idea of fun anymore. I think that I've been pretty good at just about everything I've ever done, so bring it on.

Every day has a goal from here on out. It may not be a big goal...hell, it may not even be a goal that "moves me forward", but goals will be met regardless. Today began as "organize your fucking life" day. It's 2:30 and I've filled 4 garbage bags full of shit, with more to come.

Olivia is at High School Musical Camp this week. I couldn't make it up if I tried. Bottom line: she's excited and, therefore, I'm excited. I'll pick her up at 5:30 today and I think we're going to go watch Kung Fu Panda....or some such nonsense. She may spend the night with me tonight. This morning was the first time I've seen her in a week. Last week she took tennis and swim lessons at her grandmother's. She seems to really like tennis. She hits the ball really well for a 5 year old.

Back to cleaning.

Bump N' Grind...and Cuss

I know now why it's been over 13 years since I last raced a mountain bike.

The Bump N' Grind is the largest mountain bike race in the southeast. I felt a little nauseaus driving to the race site and seeing just a mob of racers.

I just didn't have the time or confidence to ride my old bike. My fork was shot and the hodge podge of parts I was going to use just didn't work well together, so I borrowed a Litespeed from the Fizik rep. I spent my warm up increasing the height of the saddle until I felt comfortable, then went to stand in the ridiculous staging line. I had no idea what kind of competition there would be or where I stood fitness-wise.

I decided I'd start the race like cyclocross race and go out hard and try and defend my position. I got a good start and rode the first mile in 5th. We hit a short road and I knew we were transitioning into the singletrack section where passing would be harder. I dove inside two guys on the transition and rode third for the next couple of miles. My lack of technical skills left me going wide on some corners and bouncing off some trees, but I managed to stay upright....until.

We started catching groups of slower riders that had started ahead of us about 4 miles in. It is hard to get by them on the narrow trails. One guy told me to pass on his left after the next corner. In my eagerness to get by I overlapped his wheel - he went right, I turned left, but my tire was on the right side of his rear sending me hard into the ground. I had a yard sale - shit went everywhere. Water bottle gone, all my stuff to change a flat littered the forest. I got back up losing two positions - my handlebars askew, but no time to straighten them.

I regained composure as we hit a jeep trail that was wider. The riders in front of me seemed to be standing still and I just laid the hammer down. I moved into second and was feeling incredible physically. Then I started to feel it.....a flat. Of course, all my stuff was gone. I cussed a bit and started walking. A few minutes passed and a guy stopped and said he had seen me earlier riding strongly and that I could have all his stuff. Wow. He handed me a tube, two CO2 cartridges, and adapter and some tire levers. I started changing the flat only to realize that his adapter didn't fit his cartridges! I got just enough air to get going for another mile before another flat. I walked about half a mile until I came upon an old dude sitting on the side of the trail. This little encounter could take up an entire post, but the gist is - he had a pump, a tube and after an agonizing 5 minutes I was on my way.

I knew I was long out of contention, but I had to get rid of my anger and I knew that the big two mile climb I had been dreading was coming up. .... I hammered up that fucking climb like I had wings. Every pedal stroke pissed me off more because I'm not a natural climber. I couldn't believe how strong I felt and all I could think about was how I would have finished very well if I didn't have mechanical gremlins. I started counting riders as I passed them just to give myself motivation. I passed 32 riders over the two mile climb. I bombed the next downhill section into the "rock garden" and into Blood Rock.

Blood Rock was more than I had even been lead to believe. Throngs of people screaming as riders approached a ridiculous series of huge rocks in the trail - all while going downhill. Many people advised me to get off and walk this section. I was pissed and rode it - almost to my demise and to the cheers of drunk mountain bike fans. I nose-wheelied off the last drop-off, a sure trip to the ER if I didn't land it. Blood Rock behind me and still feeling good. Then, in one of the smoothest sections of the course......another flat. Day over....

To say I enjoyed the 5 mile walk to the finish would be stupid, but I needed just about that distance to gain my composure. Everybody I had spent the last half hour passing rode by. Men, women, parapalegics, dogs, snails, turtles. I walked across the line alone, covered in mud, a little blood, and dragging my flat tired bike all alone. To add insult to injury, I was officially scored as DNF. Didn't even get credit for my hike and bike.

The only solace I got was that I was just one of tons of people that got flats. The trailside was a myriad of people changing tires as the brutal course took its toll. One guy rode by me on a downhill with no chain. I know one local rider who had three flats as well, but had all the tools to get them all changed. I have a hard time wanting to compete in a sport where mechanical failures have way too much of an influence on the results.

If I had a normal job with weekends off and the money to race I'd have a real dilemma right now. Would I sulk off, justified that I was stupid to ever try it or would I train my ass off and get some redemption on this stupid sport? One day I'm going to grow up and just do things for fun - right now I'm just pissed off.