Devon Grand Prix – Bigger and better! February 26, 2008

So we (Bruce and I) just met with Janet from the Town of Devon today regarding this summer’s Devon Grand Prix of Cycling, and I’m pretty psyched about the prospects for this year’s event.  Everything we wanted is coming together, and it could be even bigger than we expected.  The biggest thing is that the town is 110% behind it, and I can’t believe the level of committment they have to making it a success.  I’m pretty damn impressed. 

I don’t think this town owns any red tape. 

Also, Bruce has brought out some really great ideas.  The existing plan (all still pending approval, volunteers, and $ requirements) is to; add a full road race to elevate the race status a bit; drop the hillclimb in favour of a 400meter Tour De L’Abitibi style 3-up drag/sprint for cash right down main street on Friday night; keep the TT and the Downtown crit; possibly run a separate Junior category and make it a L’Abitibi prep race for the Juniors; include the LAMP/youth categories as full official race status. 

That does alot!  It makes the race a 4-stage event; it gives the track racers and pure sprinters a genuine shot at a road race overall; it gives the Juniors a prep race for Labitibi; and most importantly it bolsters the momentum gained last year for the youth  – being a true part of a major stage race.  This is huge.  The Olympic champions of the 2012 and 2016 games are the kids just thinking about trying out a little bike racing right now.  This could be the spark no?

Anyway, throw in some community events around it, maybe some local talent, maybe a kids race, and it could be the event of the year.  Hopefully we get the locals out, spark some interest in biking with the kids that got nothing to do. 

Also, it’s the same weekend as the 5-Peaks trail race, so we’re working on a combined spaghetti supper on Friday night for both events, get double bang for the buck.

Obviously I’m pretty jazzed about the race, but the best part is that between Bruce and the club, and Janet and the town, everybody is just all about making things happen, no screwing around, and that’s fun to be a part of.

Hopefully see you there!!

Watching them fail February 18, 2008

Whether you got kids or not, everyone has at some point watched another parent and thought; “ok, I wouldn’t do it that way.  If I had kids, I’d do this and so then they’d do that” and it all seemed like it would be way easier.  It doesn’t even have to be a parent thing; the same applies to anyone who coaches, teaches, or leads children in any way.  It seems so much easier until you gotta do it.  Now, that seems obvious, and we knew tthings would be harder than they looked.  What I’m surprised about is the thing I’m finding to be the biggest challenge of all: watching them fail, and letting them, without interfering.  

As their challenges get bigger, and the price of failure gets higher, I think I’m in trouble.  I have to come up with a plan to deal with it.   When I would tell my dad about my hair-brained ideas, he would just smile and say; “Hmmm, sounds interesting. Let me know how it turns out”.  Or if I was really struggling with something, he used to just ask me a bunch of questions, and I would end up coming with my own answer while trying to answer his questions.  Maybe that’s the trick.  The question is; how did he resist the urge to talk me out of stuff, to help me BEFORE all the times I failed.  It must have been so painful to watch, because I tried a lot of stuff, failed a lot.   

I thought discipline would be tough; how to enforce the rules without breaking their spirit.  While that one will get a lot harder as they embrace their growing independence, so far it’s been basically a balancing act, their boundaries constantly being re-adjusted, negotiated, imposed, or refused.  

 I also thought it would be tougher to accept who they are when they are different or even completely the opposite of how I envisioned.  You know, like if the football dad buys his son all the sports stuff but the kid wants to paint.  My kids don’t like biking.  Unbelievable!  It kills me! But, that’s them.  They love other things; skating, colouring, story-telling, fishing, kung-fu, pink skirts, screaming.  It would be pretty silly to let myself get sucked in to defining them by the fact that they don’t like cycling.  I admit, it still bugs me, but I’ll get over it.

Watching them fail, now that is the really tough one, and I thought it would be easy. I’d just give them the space, watch them struggle, watch them cry and get frustrated, then I’d give them some magical tip and they’d succeed.  Ta-daaaa!  No problem.  I didn’t realize that my would heart break while I watched, and maybe I don’t have the magical tip, or they don’t want it… they actually want to do it wrong…

I don’t know how my parents did it.  Now that I’m experiencing this, I’ve been thinking back to when I was a kid, and dad just let me screw up lots of times.  I mean, dad was there for me, always the ultimate coach and supporter, but if I was screwing up, or had some ridiculous doomed idea, he almost never tried to talk me out of it, coach me in the right direction unless I asked or really needed it.  He gave me the room to screw up on my own, and when I was older it occurred to me that this was a huge factor in the fact that, for the most part, I don’t fear failure.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like it, and I don’t like looking stupid, but the risk of it never stops me from doing stuff. Try something.  Complete disaster, everyone thinks I’m an idiot.  Whatever, try again.  I want to give that same gift to my kids, and man it’s freakin hard.  It affects every little thing: when they’re colouring outside the lines, putting the tape on crooked, trying to jam the Barbie shoe on the wrong foot, throwing the ball wrong.  With kids, honestly, they’re learning EVERYTHING, so that means they’re screwing up lots.  If a parent corrects all that, it would be an unmerciful barrage of coaching and correcting, but man it’s so hard to watch them screw up when you know they’re better to learn some things the hard way. Just bite the lip and smile. 

Today at xc skiing,  Cass was falling and falling trying to get up a hill and I kept taking a step forward, closer, closer…I thought; ok I’ll help her…no better not.  Ok now…no let her do it!  Then she figured out a way to crawl up, and it looked silly and she giggled away as she did it.  So, not correct form, but mission accomplished, and my lip hurts from biting.

I have a lot of work to do on watching the failures with a smile.  Maybe I’ll come up with something, or maybe someone I know already has some good ideas…I’ll bounce them off my dad. 

He’ll probably say; “Hmmm, sounds interesting.  Let me know how it turns out”

Everybody stinks sometimes February 12, 2008

A month or so back, the girls and I were watching a movie on a Saturday night, in their bunk bed.  (They’re 3 and 5) I farted, and the conversation went like this: 

Dani: Dad, you tooted, you’re stinky

Cassidy:  Ya dad, you stink, but that’s ok.  I was thinking that it’s not so important that you stink, but that I love you, right?

Dani:  Ya dad, you stink but we still love you, because sometimes we stink too!

Cassidy: Ya dad, I stink too sometimes, mom said so. So it’s ok.

Dani: Don’t worry dad, everybody stinks sometimes.

Cassidy: But you stink the most.

Dani: Ya Dad, you stink the most, seriously. 

I was just a spectator in this whole conversation, and  I couldn’t imagine a better way to be told that I stink.

 

Give ‘em the knuckles February 10, 2008

Now, none of my blog entries are intended to be some sort of “here is how you should act” piece or anything, so I hope they don’t come off that way. I’m just trying draw out the positives or interesting things I find, and share ‘em. This one is almost a thankyou. Something someone did for us, and it made a difference. I was reminded of this one the other day when someone we know was really excited because “they got the knuckles…”

Anybody remember that scene from “Forrest Gump” where he’s trying to find a seat on the bus and at each row someone says “seat’s taken” or “you can’t sit here”. It’s a pretty extreme example of how not to treat an outsider, but it is probably still pretty uncomfortable to watch for just about everyone, because we’ve all been there. Maybe we haven’t been openly rejected like that, but certainly we’ve been in that spot where you’re new to a club or a town or a group or something, and unless you’re completely cold-blooded, you’ve always got at least a little desire to fit in somewhere, find where you belong. Sometimes we don’t make the effort with the new guy because we don’t have the time or energy to do the whole “welcome to the club, my name is so-and-so, did you find everything alright…” But it doesn’t have to be that big.

We felt that way when we joined our current bike club (Juventus). We were new, nervous, excited about taking a chance at leaving the comfort of our old club. There were elite athletes around. People who knew real racing, how to dress, what to ride, how to win. We were just rec riders and it was a bit intimidating at first.

Now, right from the start we got alot of help. We were fully welcomed by the established riders and coaches. I remember getting advice from one of the fastest Cat 1 racers around right before a big race, even though he had to prepare for his own race and take care of the rest of the team, and it meant alot. Another coach invited us to train with the juniors when it fit our schedule better, even though he was busy getting the kids going. All of these gestures made a huge difference for us, but the one that really stuck out was because it was at the very beginning and it was something pretty small.

At spin in the winter, in the very beginning, there was always this one dude that trained with the elites. He knew everyone and was part of the main group. After each hard workout, he’d saunter over to his buddies and stick out his fist and they’d clank thier knuckles on his, as if to say, “nice work.” They “got the knuckles” is what we started calling it.  Now, I don’t need someone else’s approval to feel good; I get what I want out of things. We didn’t view him as some sort of hero or anything, just a dude in the club, but we couldn’t help wondering if we’d ever be part of the group like that.

Then one day, my wife came home from the workout. It had been a hard one and she was tanked. She didn’t feel very strong and she might normally have been a bit down, but she was pumped. “So how’d it go?” I asked. She was grinning from ear to ear. “I got the knuckles tonight”

Then one night I got ‘em. No grand gesture, no formal welcome, not even a word or anything. Just one night the fist was pointed at me. It made my week.

We joked about how “getting the knuckles” was some sort of secret handshake at the club and it was the only way to know you were in. We got a friend trying riding and she loves it and she joined us at the club. Last week my wife came home and told me; “Shauna’s pretty excited, she got the knuckles tonight.”

I guess it just shows how it doesn’t take a lot of time or big formal effort to make someone’s day. So maybe next time you see someone new, maybe the new guy at work, or the new guy at your club, you don’t have to take alot of time to make them feel welcome.

Just go over and give ‘em the knuckles. 

In defense of Silliness February 6, 2008

Remember when you were a kid and you did the most RIDICULOUS things just because?  Remember how much fun that was?  I think back to some things I did and can’t even imagine why, but then I remember it was a gas.  As an adult I think we start to get away from that; everything has a purpose, a reason, an end result, or it’s always “appropriate” for our age.  I’ve always tried specifically NOT acting my age, (which has worked against me from time to time) but lately since my kids are speaking age, we’ve gotten quite busy with silliness.
And man does it feel good. 

Remember the repeating game?
“Stop saying what I say”
“Stop saying what I say” and so on until it’s a fight or everyone is laughing.  That’s a good one, especially when you do it to another adult and they start to wonder if you’re just out on a day-pass.

Or the make-up-your-own-country—and-speak-that-language game.   “Ok, I’m from Ogvichvelderland, oingy bochy pingo gruky bokka bokka”  I love that one.  My kids are completely multilingual, and fluent in Kachagobanish.
My wife made up the “Backwards day” game at the supper table when one of the kids got cranky about having to sit on the wrong side or something.  “Don’t you know it’s backwards day? You’re dad, I’m Cassidy, we’re having breakfast for supper, drinking our food and eating our milk!”  That one fun, but can get confusing too…

Another one we like is the made up story out of the blue.  Those are really fun.  Back in November a neighbor had a baby, so the kids got to asking about babies, and when we were born. I told them how when I was born, “I popped out so hard I flew right out the 2nd story window and into the street.  The doctors had to rush down the stairs and across the street, and when they got to me I was sitting at the ice-cream stand having a sundae.”  The kids looked at me in shock and Dani (the little one) started laughing and running around.  Cassidy started to squint and looked real close at me and finally said “I don’t think so”.
 
Last night my buddy Linds told a fantastic new one he invented with his kids.  It’s called “Whatsa!”.  One person asks “Whatsa something” and you answer the craziest thing you can think of, and so on, until nobody can talk anymore because you’re laughing too hard.
“Whatsa gear shifter?” “That’s the third stripe on a Zebra’s hind leg”  “Whatsa hind leg?”  “That’s the hollow end of a drill bit for office desks”  “Whatsa drill bit?”  “That’s a furry bump on the back of an African pygmy squirrel…” and so on.  Try it with a kid, they’ll lose their minds on the spot.

And you’ll feel great.
 

Diggin’ the little things February 4, 2008

The other day I read a blog entry by somebody else, and it gave me a little inspiration.  It was about the long lost excitement of visiting the mailbox.  Remember in the old days how fun it was to get the mail, because maybe there was a letter.  Nowadays nobody writes letters much anymore, but for some reason it’s still fun for me.  I spent a lot of years at a relatively young age living overseas away from family and friends, and so the anticipation of the mailbox in permanently burned into my personality.  This other blog pointed that out to me, as I had never really thought about it but knew it to be true.  I’m starting to think maybe that’s why I subscribe to so many magazines; it’s the fun of finding the box full one day!  

This has carried over to my kids as well.  We love getting the mail.  I give them the junk letters from the credit card companies and they pretend that the letter is a special personal message from a friend or something.  We’ve gotten quite a few Capital One Card solicitations that read:“Dear Cassidy:  We sure had fun fighting the dragons at the castle yesterday.  You are the best friend ever anyone could have in the whole world ever ever.  Why don’t we have a tea-party tomorrow?  Love Julia” The best is when we get the ones with the fake key inside promoting some home lottery or something.  That little key is worth a whole evening of play.  Is it from a buried pirates’ treasure?  Is it the key to a castle in some far off land?  We better get the horses and ride!

The mailbox blog inspired me to actually write a letter, and it had an unexpected effect: I remembered how fun are the little things!  We all know this, and maybe we all say “it’s the little things” but it still often gets turned into a big deal.  I do it all the time.  I decide I’m not going to spend all day working in the yard, I’m going to “stop and smell the flowers”, spend the day with the kids, and then we plan a big day out.  But the letter writing reminded me that it sure doesn’t take a whole big day out every time.  Even the dumbest little things can be rewarding, especially with kids.  The process of writing the letter took all evening, because every single little thing became an ordeal.  The “dear” part (“dear” means a lot of things in English, and why is it at the start of a letter? Isn’t a dear in the forest? What does that have to do with Grandma? Does she like dears? Why did they shoot Bambi…); the “find the perfect envelope part”; the stamp, picking the perfect colour of pen; stapling the paper shut 57 times (this is necessary, my 3 year old tells me).  Even just picking the person to write to took an hour, and we got a new nickname for my dad. (He’s Grandpa Brewster form San Francisco, but soemhow he got renamed “Grandpa-Cisco” by my 3 yr-old, and it stuck.) I took all evening and when we were done, everyone was pretty tired. We had had several full out belly laughs, a few emergencies, and we stillhad the actual mailing part to look forward to. 

In the end I think the thing I got out of it was that maybe we don’t have to work so hard at “smelling the flowers”.  Maybe we skip the flowers sometimes because it seems like a lot of work to maximize the flower-smelling efficiency and effectiveness.  Either way, I’m sure we’ll be doing more dumb little things, especially when it’s -30C outside and the tobogganing novelty is wearing thin…