Biking around the Bay

I went on a wonderful bike ride today with a group of guys who call themselves the W.O.O.F. Pack which stands for "Worn out old farts". They are all in their mid to late 60's and retired. They ride 6 days/week and cover 60-80 miles/day. I joined them in League City and we rode along Galveston Bay for a total of 67 miles. It was wonderful day of touring. The highlight of the day was riding over the Fred Hartmann Bridge. This is one of those experiences that evokes "You've got to be kidding". When they talked about going over the bridge, I was excited but did not realize what it really meant. When I saw the bridge from the distance, I got butterflies in my stomach. We did it. I was glad I was in good enough shape to climb it. It was pretty steep. We saw some pretty scenery and enjoyed many leisurely roads along the bay. It was a good day of fun and enjoyment.

My history of cycling part 1

Just like every kid in modern civilization, my parents gave me a bicycle for Christmas one year. I think it was a western auto western flyer 24". They gave my brother an identical model, but I remember it was too big for him, so they exchanged it for some odd brand called a Schwinn. It was a 20". Note that bicycles used to be sized by wheel size, instead of frame size.

I guess I outgrew that first bike and then I remember a J. C. Higgins (sears brand) 26". It was so slick. I rode the heck out that bike. We didn't know anything about keeping wheels trued and spokes tight. So they just got loose with age and wheels got more wobbly. I remember as my bike aged (maybe 3 years), it got more and more ragged. So one day, I stripped off the fenders (all bikes used to have fenders) and turned it into a really cool naked looking bike.

One of the last rides I remember on that old bike was a 10 mile ride with the scouts on the Galveston seawall. It was windy as usual and hot and I just about killed myself riding that long on that old bicycle. I remember the wheels looked like tacos and it must have been brutally difficult to ride very long. I am guessing the bearing were devoid of grease about this stage of life. I did not know anything about maintaining a bike except putting air in the tires.

Fast forward to my first year in college. My first semester in college I walked everywhere. Bicycles were not all that fashionable at that time (the boom had not hit), but I have never been one to get caught up on what's fashionable or not. My second semester I got a used "10 speed" and discovered the wonders of getting around campus much faster. I don't remember the exact history, but somewhere during my college career, I bought another brand new Raleigh Grand Prix 10 speed. This Raleigh was actually made in England. It had a gorgeous metalllic red paint with black and gold highlights. I rode all over Austin on this bike and thoroughly enjoyed it.

The bicycle was replaced by a series of motorcycles through my senior year in college. After graduating and marrying Anne, I kept buying motorcycles, but we got the bicycle bug again. Anne and I bought new Italian bicycles. Mine was a sumptions gloss black with chromed lugs. Anne had a bright green bianchi. She truly loved that bicycle. I think it was because it had smaller wheels and it really fit her well. So we cycled together. We actually rode 8 miles one day and thought we were great long distance cyclists.

Somewhere along our married life, the interest in cycling faded out. Note that we did not use helmets or special cycling clothes. We just rode in comfortable shorts and whatever casual shoes we wanted. I think we both were not up for really getting into it because our butts would eventually say "long enough". I'm ashamed to say it but we moved these bikes outside to avoid taking up space in the house. Eventually, the heat and humidity and lack of love did them in. I put them out with the trash years later.

The baby in the mirror

Anne and I recently visited my parents for a Thanksgiving dinner in Galveston. Lisa gave them a huge gift by bringing Jessica and Sarah to see them. They were thrilled as they had only seen the girls once since they were born. All of the residents at Edgewater made a big show over the little girls. They were real hits. I guess my mother had put out a lot of pre-visit press. When one of the residents saw the girls in their stroller waiting to get into the dining room, they exclaimed "Oh those must be Mary's great grand daughters!".

After dinner, I had the pleasure of holding Jessica while we waited to get on the elevator to go up to their apartment. Anne suggested I show her the baby in the mirror and she took this priceless photo.

I cannot find the words to explain the joy these little girls bring to our family. Not only are they a symbol of pure love; but they demonstrate the union of Jeff and Lisa and their promotion to parents. They are doing a fabulous job.

Adventures in San Antonio (LONG)

Greg and Melissa were at it again. If anyone told them they were not athletes in their former lives, they were wrong. So now both have completed a marathon and a 1/2 marathon in five months in two states. Incredible. Greg told me Melissa could be strong willed but this is will of mythical proportions.

Yeah, I'm proud of them both.

Ok, so Anne and I trekked up to San Antonio on Saturday afternoon, arriving in time to check in and meet the families and running stars for a pasta dinner. Melissa and Greg had ten family members (counting Anne and me) show up for cheering. Bobby Jo, Melissa's friend also came along to run the race with Greg and Melissa.

So I had this adventurous idea that Anne and I should ride bicycles to follow the race. I knew bicycles would have worked very well at Lisa's Houston marathon and Greg and Melissa's Alaska Marathon. For reasons you'll see, we should have left the bicycles at home.

Ok, so we drug 'em from Houston and by golly we were going to ride them! Anne and I went out to drive the route I had so carefully laid out on Google maps. This was a good idea. I discovered that I had routed us through some pretty rough looking parts of town. I think Rotweiler guard dogs and triple burgler bars are not a good sign, especially on a residence. We drove into town and carefully followed the map and our eyes to trace out an entirely different route through decent neighborhoods with no traffic. It was kind of neat - rolling hills and streets named Hickory and Michigan and Aganier and Buckeye.

So there, we had a perfectly safe route that avoided traffic and would be FUN!

We carefully prepared and discussed clothing. It was supposed to be cool in the morning. Errrrr, well, I tried to say cool, but the forecast 37 degrees made me silently say other things. I did not want Anne to worry that I was thinking WE MIGHT FREEZE TO DEATH. There is nothing like a fast road bike zipping along at 20 mph to make it feel like sub-zero temps.

Greg and Melissa stopped by our rooms to say good night. That was neat. They seemed energized and had a good attitude. We were all excited.

Ok, so next morning we put on our finest silk long johns (super stuff!). Anne put on her special "firewall" tights which I bought for her last year. I wore my lighter tights. I guess I wanted to think that I could have been warmer if I had worn my firewall tights (weird logic, I know). We all went down to grab some continental breakfast and coffee. Anne sneaked a smoothie and an orange juice to stow in her backpack. This would prove to be nice later on in the day.

We took crazy pictures of Melissa and Greg and Bobby Jo (see Melissa's pictures and blog). Then we went up, suited up and came down the elevators with our bikes. We got some stares as we walked through the lobby. Our bikes were doing the fancy clicking sound from the rear wheel ratchets. So it was impossible to go out in stealth mode. I just pretended I was a competitor at Tour de France and these people were cycling groupies. I got so into it that I almost held up my hand in a big victory V.

Once we got outside and began rolling, I just knew we would be blocks of ice in the next two minutes. It was COLD. But the thrill of setting out on bicycles to ride into downtown in unknown neighborhoods was just too exciting. We were moving so fast and it was mostly downhill. YIPPEEE! My directions, attached to my handlebars were spot on and I was feeling confident in my route.

The first "incident" occurred as we stopped to cross over the only busy street along the route. Anne put her foot out to support herself on the curb and missed. She fell over in a heap. It was more humliating than damaging, but it was a bit of a downer. After getting her back together, we headed off again.

Now the cold started to work. Anne had forgotten to bring glove liners and her hands were starting to hurt. I asked her if she wanted to stop. I thought it would be a natural thing to stop and put her hands in her armpits to give some quick relief. Well she said "No". I did not realize she just did not finish her sentence. What she meant was "NO, MY HANDS ARE ABOUT TO FALL OFF AND I NEED TO GET INDOORS TO SOME HEAT WHERE I MIGHT POSSIBLY SAVE MY HANDS". Well, so much for how well a couple communicates after 36 years of marriage. Eventually we came to a small bakery. I asked if she wanted to stop here, thinking she might use the restroom. She said yes and we went inside. Anne wasted no time asking if they had a heater or a place where she could warm her poor hands. They said the only thing they had was the pot full of coffee sitting on the warmer. Anne walked over, pulled off both gloves, and grabbed that hot coffee pot with both hands and held them there. I looked around to see who was looking, hoping there wasn't a crowd. It was just after sun-up on Sunday morning. Nobody was sitting there. After a few minutes I encouraged Anne to go in the restroom and run warm water over her hands. She did and came out about an hour later. She said her hands were kind of functional now and did not believe there was any damage. I looked at them. They looked kind of red and prune-like.

Did I mention we started this ride before sun-up with lights? Actually it was not dark - just that kind of eerie orange glow before the sun shows up. Now, the sun was up and we sensed things might be warming up. At least it felt that way psychologically. We mounted up and rode off again. Getting into downtown was neat because we could enjoy it without having to maneuver a car. We rode in on a street where no cars were allowed and could see lots of runners. We stopped at the edge of the route and talked to a woman. We were afraid that we had already missed Greg and Melissa. The woman told us her husband ran 8 1/2 minute miles and she had not seen him yet. Greg and Melissa were targetting 11 1/2 and 13 minute miles respectively so we were relieved.

We rode our bikes to the spot exactly where we told Greg and Melissa we would be. Fortunately we found a spot with plenty of room where we could turn our bikes sideways in full view of the runners. It was exciting. Eventually Greg rounded the corner and saw us immediately. He slowed down and turned around so Anne could get his picture. He was smiling big and looked good. Greg was launched out of coral 19. I think Melissa was in Corral 28, so she started subtantially behind Greg. Sure enough, 25 minutes later here came Melissa. She was talking and focused on other runners. She didn't even see these two cyclists in full broad view. I hollered at her and she looked up and immediately smiled.

I had printed out detailed maps and forgot one very important thing. I forgot to put milemarkers on the route! So i could not calculate where to meet them next. I guessed and we headed out. It was cool riding our bikes downtown. We could get from one place to the next so easily and fluidly. We saw a Starbucks with a big parking lot. We decided to stop in and use their restroom. I looked at the map and decided I had no idea how or where to find Greg. Brian was supposed to meet us along the course, so I decided we would ride along the course near where we thought he was and call him. Again, it was still exhilarating to ride around on bicycles and get places so quickly and easily.

We stopped at a point on the course and called Brian. He was about 1/2 mile fom our location and started working his way toward us. Anne and I watched, hoping to see Greg or Melissa, but it was so crowded. For 30,000 runners, the course was too narrow forcing the runners to run close to each other. Anne said she was going to ride to another point in the course and see about finding him. I stayed and waited for Brian. Suddenly I heard a loud hoarse voice yelling "Bob Davis, Bob Davis". It was Greg! He was frantically waving his hands and running backwards, trying to get my attention as he had already passed me. He looked great and happy. I grinned and yelled "Go Greg!".

Brian eventually found me and we half heatedly watched for Melissa. It was like the needle in the haystack. Brian said he was on foot and needed to get going if he was going to meet us at the finish line. I said I would take off, find Anne and meet him there.

Ok, so Anne was supposed to be exactly at the intersection we agreed upon. Right? wrong! She had wandered off and I could not find her. I was frustrated and she did not answer her cell phone. Then I heard "Uncle Bob, Anne's over here". It was Brian. He had seen her standing under a tree. I walked over and started into my fuss about meeting where we had agreed. Poor Anne looked like a kicked dog. She looked up at me and said "I've got a bigger problem. I can't walk". My heart sank and I felt like a mud puddle.

Anne had inadvertanly ridden along the street and discovered she was in the roadway with the runners. She tried to get out of the road using a side driveway. Unfortunately, it had a sharp ledge and her tire got caught and she fell over - hard on her hip. Her bike was ok but she was really in agony. Brian and Anne urged me to ride to tinish line to cheer Greg and Melissa. Brian said he would get Anne out, as his car was not too far away.

So ok; Off I went riding like the wind into the sea of spectators that was swarming toward the finish line. I actually got in the road with the runners and stayed to the side being careful not to get in their way. Then I maneuvered over to the side that looked like the route to the finish line. That's when I discovered that the idiots who designed this route did not make provisions for the spectators to get the finish line from the downtown area. It was a zoo. The final part of the run was a steep, cruel hill. The designers of this course are just plain sick. I had to give up and ride back into town. I decided since I was the only one on a bike now, I better get moving to make it back to the hotel on time.

Along the way, I hit a bump and my cellphone hopped out of the carrier on my bike. I pulled off and retrieved it, then tried to tuck it into the back pocket of my jersey. I couldn't seem to get it in the pocket. A guy came up to me offered to put the phone in my pocket for me. Obviously a cyclist, he asked me how I liked the frame on my bike. I told him it was a gorgeous frame. Then he said "How about those minimal spoke wheels? Do they give you any trouble?" Without thinking I said these wheels are tough. I hit a 400 lb wild boar and it didn't even phase them. He got this really weird look on his face, like I was some kind of crazy to be avoided. I said "its true, it really happened!". By this time he was slowly shuffling off while facing me, making sure that I wasn't slobbering and getting ready to attack him.

I rode back along the same route we came that morning. I was back at the hotel in about 25 minutes without incident. When I got there, everyone else was still out. I called Bryan and he said he had Anne and they were on the way back to the hotel. I called Greg and they were standing in line to catch a shuttle to the parking garage where they had parked for the race. What a bummer. The logistics for travel/parking for this race were horrible.

Brian and Anne made it back to the hotel. Anne was having a hard time getting around. I helped her and she managed to get cleaned up and dressed in regular clothes. We went to the hotel restaurant and had lunch with Brian. It was great to have some time with him. After lunch, Brian needed to get back to studies and left. Unfortunately Greg and Melissa were still trying to get back to the hotel. They showed up a few minutes after Brian left. I had arranged to keep our hotel room for late check out. Greg, Melissa, and Bobby Jo had put their luggage in our room, so they came up to get cleaned up. Melissa was kind of green around the gills. She seemed better after she lay down for a few minutes.

We all were tired and some of us were hurting. We all agreed that getting packed and back to Houston as quickly as possible was the best plan. Anne and I got ready and headed out. Melissa's father, Larry, had stayed to drive them all back. Along the way, we ran into a major traffic stall near Sealy. Apparently there was some kind of traffic accident and everything was backed up for miles. We pulled into a truck stop. Greg called and they were right behind us. Eventually, Larry pulled up in the truck stop as well. We hung out there and got some gas. Eventually the traffic jam cleared up and we got out of there.

We all got home that evening, much later than planned. We had plenty to reflect on. It was an eventful, colorful weekend. The best part is that were all together as a family and we will remember and laugh about it in the future.

A visit with the grand daughters

Actually, this happened a week ago on November 3. My mother advised me to start writing this stuff down because I will forget it later.

It was a slow day and I had conference calls planned at night. My job occasionally works at night because I have to talk to people who have a full time assignment during the day. I also have to consult with people in India. So I decided to take advantage of the slow period and drop by to see Lisa and the girls.

We agreed to go out to lunch at a nearby Thai restaurant. I arrived at Lisa's house around noon. The girls were awake and pretty happy. We visited a few minutes and then packed up to go. I learned how the magical car seats worked. We each carried a little bundle out to Lisa's car and clicked them into place in the rear seats. The main thing I remember was how they squinted when the bright sun was shining in their faces.

When we got to the restaurant, we quickly gave up the idea of eating outside on the patio because of the wind. So Lisa got her choo-choo train stroller and we clicked the girls' car seats into it. This is pretty neat technology. Lisa and I maneuvered the long stroller into the restaurant. It was obviously not arranged to make easy passage for twin strollers. The wait staff was very accomodating. They chose a relatively convenient table for us and moved another table to the side so the stroller could be parked next to our table without interferring with other traffic in the restaurant.

Lisa and I enjoyed the great food and talked. Other restaurant patrons were obviously enamored with Sarah and Jessica. The waitress came over and wanted to get a good look at both of them. She gave the appropriate oohs and ahs and was obviously pleased to see the girls. When I was nearly finished eating, Sarah fussed a little bit, so I took her out of her seat to soothe her. It was pretty neat. The waitress was sure I was finished eating because my hands were full holding Sarah. She scooped up my dishes which had 2 bites of lucious green curry with shrimp left. I quickly told her "Whoa, just because I have a baby in my arms doesn't mean I am finished eating!". She was very embarrassed and quickly put my curry back in place.

After we finished, Lisa and I talked a couple of minutes longer. It was getting on toward their feeding time, so we hussled to get out and home. On our way home, both girls started crying a little bit. I guess it was their "We're hungry!" cry. Lisa drove calmly and responded to the girls in her best loving mommy tone saying "I know". She didn't need to say any other words. Her tone of voice conveyed "I know you both are hungry and we are moving as fast as we can and we'll feed you as soon as we get home in just five more minutes!". This was all punctuated by an unspoken "I love you both so much!".

Back at the house, Lisa proceeded to change Jessica's diaper while I consoled Sarah. I was amazed how much stronger she is. She was a little wiggly bundle that I gladly held close on my chest and said Grand Dad things to her. Next up, I took Jessica, while Lisa changed Sarah. Then Lisa proceed to get them all arranged on her big glider rocker and covered them with this big cover so she could nurse them while I was there. What do you know! No more crying.

After they were both fed, I helped burp them. I don't remember which girl I got but it didn't matter. You would have thought Lisa had given them drugs. They were wiped out and ready for a good nap. Lisa spread out a big blanket in the middle of her king size bed and placed them both on their backs. She then lay down on her side and curled around the girls. It was the sweetest vision of contentment. She said this is how they all three took an afteroon nap together. I gave Lisa a kiss and let myself out the front door.

It was a wonderful day.

Stressed Out

This might be a rambling mess. I've just got to write some thoughts and you, the reader, won't know what its about. This is a very, very public forum and some things must remain private because of security or sensitivity reasons.

Ok, on with it. Lately the level of stress has gone up. My new job is looking like a lot of high potential. We depend on doing business with other companies. We have been very successful the first two quarters of this year, like living in a bubble disconnected from the troubles of the world. But it cannot last forever. Our sales forecasts have dropped precipitously this quarter. Big companies are putting projects on hold or delaying or cancelling. My new job is sales and the stability of that job depends on being successful. Its harder in this environment. Already my boss is talking about feeling like he will have to pull back on how many people or selling. As I have no track record, that means I'll be the first to go. I won't lose my job, but I'll have to go back to consulting and get back on the road again. This is hard. This is tough to ponder.

And yet there is another stressor that is even worse. There's dissension in the family. Anne and I hate it and are very sad. We have prayed about it frequently. The conflict may not get resolved and leave some scars. I know you don't know what I am talking about. Just pray for us, ok?

No matter what happens or goes on, we know one thing for sure. We love every single member of our family intensely. Conflicts with loved ones is worse than any other kind of conflict.

Bob

Wild Boar Encounter

First, let's establish what a wild boar is. Its a wild pig that originated in Europe, descended from a domestic pig. Texas has one of the largest wild boar populations in the United States. I have personally sighted five of these animals in or near George Bush Park in the last year. They seem to show up when we've had heavy rains.

The example to the left is a world record class animal weighing 1180 pounds. No, we don't have that size around here, but it got your attention, didn't it? Our local boars look more like the one on the right. Still pretty scary looking!

Last night, I went for a bicycle ride in George Bush park in the evening. I knew it would be dark by the time I returned home, so I had my trusty "rising sun" headlight installed to light the way after dark. It had been a hot day and the moderated temperatures after sunset were welcome. At dusk I saw the first hog, laying in the grass about 50 feet from the bicycle path. I was surprised it was out in the open. I thought they only showed up last year when the flooding drove them from the back country closer to civilization. I startled the hog and it jumped up and ran off. It looked to be about 200 pounds.

I rode into the wooded part of George Bush park and did not give it another thought. I was feeling good, cruising at 17-18 mph. It was dark now and the only light was my trusty monster headlight.

Suddenly, a dark brown hairy large form ran across my path directly from the left. I knew exactly what it was. I could not see the top of its back, but it was somewhere between the top of my front wheel and my handlebars in height. I absolutely had no time to react, as it was less than five feet in front of me. The last thing I remember was the shadowy image of a second hog running closely behind, just entering into my headlight beam.

WHAM! My world turned upside down. I don't know whether I hit the first hog or the second one. But it was a direct impact. Apparently the speeding hog(s) from left knocked my bike right out from under me. The next thing I knew, I was laying on my left side with the bike on the ground to the right with my left leg under it. I hurt all over. Laying on the ground, I finally decided to try to get up, thinking my bike must be in pieces. It was pitch dark by now with no lights anywhere except my bike headlight.

As I stood up, I staggered around. My head felt like my brain had been knocked loose and shaken hard. After a few minutes, I examined the bike. All the pieces were there, but re-arranged. The handlebars pointed left and the saddle was bent, but the bike frame seemed to be intact. I decided it was still ride able. I mounted and started riding home - very slowly. At this point I was about 15 miles from home. After getting into a clearing with some moonlight, I dismounted and got out my tools to straighten the handlebars. I could not repair the saddle. I would just have to ride home sitting askance.

Finally, I arrived home. Anne was out with some friends playing bridge. All I could think about was going to bed. I took a shower and examined the damage. There was a mild road rash on my left hip and upper back with a couple of bleeding scratches on each elbow. My head throbbed. I scrubbed with Phisohex, took four Excedrin and went to bed.

The next day, I woke up and felt like an army had danced on my head all night. It was daylight and I could now examine the damage to my bike and gear. My beloved Brooks saddle took it on the chin.


My helmet revealed why my head hurt. You can see its cracked all the way through.

I really love bicycle riding. But for now I have no desire to get back on and ride. I guess its because my tail is pretty sore and it hurts to sit on a hard surface. I think I am obligated to say I have learned my lesson about riding at night. But I probably have not. I just won't ride in George Bush "boar" park at night.

On being a father

My father has always told me "you never stop worrying about your children, no matter how old they get". That wisdom and experience has really been resounding in recent weeks. My daughter Lisa is pregnant with twins and has entered the stage of physical challenges to carry these babies to full term. She's been in and out of the hospital twice. Her husband Jeff is right beside her all the way.

Lisa is a strong person, both physically and mentally. I have never seen anything challenge her and stress her physically like this pregnancy. Several times, I have bowed my head and wept. I have done the only thing I know to do. I have prayed and asked for prayers. There must be hundreds of people praying for Lisa and Jeff and the unborn babies.

There are more challenges ahead and probably more tears - certainly more prayers. This will draw us together tighter than ever. Lisa and Jeff will depend on each other as never before.

Bob

Alaska Marathon

Our trip to Alaska was quick, beautiful, and exciting. To begin with it’s a longish 7 hour direct flight. That airline seat gets pretty tiresome in that length of time. Our flight was relatively uneventful with only a few minutes of choppy air. We left about a half hour late, landing in Alaska at 5pm local time. Alaska is 3 hours behind Houston time, so this was about 8pm Houston time.

Pat and Glynda Allen (Melissa’s mother and aunt) were on the same flight with us. We rented a car took them to their hotel. Their room was not ready, so we left the luggage and took them with us to find the Quyana Bed and Breakfast. I had booked this over the internet with little information, except that it was run by a local named Wilburn (“Will”) and it only had four rooms. Out of 35 B&B’s I contacted, Will was the only one that sent me a brochure in the mail and wrote a long email describing himself and his B&B. Besides, it was cheap ($65/night including breakfast!). This is unbelievable for Alaska during the height of the tourist season.

We found the Quyana (Eskimo word for “Thank you”) without a problem. It was located in a local neighborhood and stood out with its neat little yard. Will had left a note with a phone number to call, because he had gone out to dinner. I called him and he directed us to the room key in a box on the side of the house. We unlocked the front door and went in, not knowing what to expect. We were greeted with an immaculate, cute and inviting living room and huge kitchen. The Quyana is 3 levels, counting the basement. Our room was in the basement with a small window in one end. This turned out to be a real blessing, since sunset is at 11:30 p.m and sunrise around 4:30 a.m. We could close the blinds and curtains and the room was relatively dark.

We all went to find a restaurant for dinner. We ended up at the Sourdough Alaskan restaurant. It was very picturesque with all kinds of Alaskan artifacts and decorations. The food did not match up to the scenery. In fact, my Alaskan seafood sampler platter was awful. Put this restaurant on the “not recommended” list. After dinner we returned to our rooms, ready for bed.

The next day, Pat and Glynda had booked a train ride. Anne and I wanted to take the train to Seward but it left too early. Will recommended that we drive the highway to Seward. He said it was a very good highway and we could control our schedule if we drove. Adventurists that we are, we left without any planning. We were delighted with gorgeous scenery and a very easy drive with low traffic. When we got to Seward, we found a picturesque seaside town with an active commercial and recreational harbor. The harbor was filled with boats of every size and description. We ate at the Chinook restaurant right on the harbor and the food was pretty decent. The view of the harbor was very worthwhile.

The drive back to Anchorage had more traffic and I was pretty tired by the time we got home. Will recommended the F street station restaurant. Its an Irish Pub motif that has been in business since 1944. It was busy and nearly full. We had a seat at the bar right in front of the grill, where Carlos did the cooking. Carlos is from Guatemala and Will said he really knew what he was doing. We watched as Carlos expertly prepared 7-8 meals at once. Anne asked him if the shrimp was Alaskan. He said no, it was Australian. She asked him if it was any good and he turned up his nose, making a face that told us not to order it. The scallops were Bering straight (not Alaskan). Will had indicated that native Alaskan seafood was excellent but sometimes in short supply. They did have wild Alaskan salmon from the Copper River. The menu prominently noted that they did not serve farm raised salmon. We both decided to have a salad with grilled salmon. We were delighted with crisp greens and a wonderfully grilled piece of native salmon with subtle spices on top. It was delicious. We wish Greg and Melissa could have been with us. Greg would have delighted watching Carlos cooking with occasional two foot high flames leaping from his grill.

Greg and Melissa arrived at around 11:15pm. We took Pat with us to pick them up. It was exciting to see them, even though everyone was tired.

Glynda had broken her foot just before the trip and she was not up to a lot of walking. She stayed at the hotel on Friday. We took Pat, Greg and Melissa touring. We had a late breakfast at noon, and then headed out to the Matanuska Valley. The early part of the drive was a bit tedious and not all that pretty as we drove neighborhoods along the river. After we crossed the river past Palmer, Alaska, we were delighted to come to a scenic overview that was high and showcased this beautiful valley. It was breathtaking. Everyone scrambled out with their cameras. We drove far enough into the valley to see some snow covered mountains and get small taste of the growing beauty of the scenery. We did not make it as far as the glaciers because we were out of time. We had to get back to the hotel for the pre-race pasta dinner.

The pasta dinner was really tasty, but I think everyone was tired and apprehensive about the marathon the next day. We all left early with promises to cheer the next day. I wanted to drive the course and scope out the viewing places. I think Pat had doubts about the value of spending this time. Boy, were we glad we did it! It was difficult finding the locations and some were just downright inaccessible. It took us about two hours of driving and walking to scope out our plan.

Saturday arrived. We picked up Pat and headed for the first viewpoint. Our reward was to see Greg looking happy and good at mile 9. He looked amazingly strong and confident. Melissa was running a slower steady pace. We saw her about 20 minutes later and she looked great! We had some trouble figuring where to be when because of the difference in Greg and Melissa’s paces. I finally set up a spreadsheet on my PDA/Phone to forecast when they would be at each viewpoint. This proved to be very valuable and and accurate. Even with the known pace and forecast, I felt like I had to drive like madman to get everyone around to catch Greg and Melissa. We all saw Greg at mile 18, but missed him at mile 22. I hustled Anne to the finish line, then looped back to pick up Pat. She had cheered Melissa at mile 18. I determined we had to drive to the finish line. While we were hauling, Anne called and tearfully proclaimed that Greg had finished!!! I was so excited and so was Pat. I predicted when Melissa would be at mile 22. Pat’s friend Sharon was there and was watching. Sure enough, my forecast was within 3 minutes and Pat got really excited as she heard Sharon exclaim that she saw Melissa!

We arrived at the finish line and hugged Greg, who had already downed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He said he wanted to support Melissa finishing, so he walked back to about a quarter mile before the finish and waited for her. I planted myself at the finish line and waited. Sure enough they came running down the lane and crossed together! What a team!

During the day, Lisa and I were sending text messages back and forth as I kept her posted on the progress. This was fun and I know she enjoyed her virtual participation. Here is the transcribed set of messages we exchanged:

Lisa 7:14am Can you send me updates on how Greg and Mel are doing?
Me 7:17am Will do.
Me 9:02am Marathon course is nice. (picture of the trail)
Me 9:05am Greg passed 9+ miles looking good and happy. Looking for Melissa now.
Lisa 9:53am Great!
Me 10:15am Mel looked wonderful at 9+mi. Greg 12 min pace. Mel 14.6 min pace. We are at mile 17 waiting.
Me 10:26am mile 17 Temp is 54 degf. Long uphill at this point – a real challenge
Me 11:02am Greg@17.5mi 13.6 min/mi looking tired but grinning big.
Lisa 11:18am That’s cool! Sounds like perfect weather. Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Where else are you going to get to see them?
Me 12:39pm Missed Greg at mile 22 hope to catch him at finish. Last few miles of course are faster (downhill).
Lisa 1:02pm What a relief!! That’s cool they are almost finished.
Me 1:03pm Greg finished!!!!!
Lisa 2:09pm Woohoo! Tell him CONGRATS!
Me 3:14pm Melissa finished!!!! Lots of hugging and crying. Wish you were here. Love Dad
Lisa 3:15pm Yeah!! That’s wonderful!
Me 9:45pm They actually danced at the victory party!!!! Love. Mom

Yes, we all went to the victory party that night to enjoy a good dinner and celebrate. Greg and Melissa were moving very slowly, but they did get up on the dance floor and kind of move around.

It was a fast paced wonderful trip. Anne and I left and headed for the airport to catch our red-eye flight back to Houston, so Anne could go to Lisa’s baby shower on Sunday. We arrived home safely around 9am Sunday morning. It was good to be home.

Father's day 2008

It was good. It was love.

My father will be 89 this year. As my brother said this year "I don' t know how many more father's days we will have with him". We mutually wanted to make it special. My father is a simple man who enjoyes simple things. Jo had the right idea. They had recently purchased some good home-grown tomatoes. Jim and Jo brought the fixings to have bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches.

We gathered at the grandparents' apartment in Galveston on Sunday afternoon. I knew this was going to be good when I saw my father's reaction as Anne walked in the door first and he saw her. He lit up and was smiling. He seems like he rarely smiles these days. He returned her hug with appreciation and he hugged me with joy as well.

My mother came in the room and was just glowing.

Minutes after we arrived, Jim, Jo and Amanda walked in the door. ...more hugs and smiles.

We gathered in little conversation groups, the women on one side of the room and the guys on the other. We talked about Lisa's pregnancy. We talked about my new job opportunity. We talked about the woodpecker in Jim's backyard.

The U.S. Open golf tournament was on TV. The sound was muted and the closed caption narration scrolled across the screen. We could follow the tournament without the noise and still carry on conversations. The guys groaned when Tiger Woods hit a ball into the tree and it dropped straight down into the grass.

After a while, it was dinner time and Jo began putting things together for the sandwiches. Amanda sat on the couch next to Jim. She put her head on his shoulder and looked at me and smiled. "This is the only day of the year you'll see this", she said. "Most of the time, I'm like a dog and snap at him."

Oh, dinner was just wonderful. You would think this was the gourmet delight of kings. We all expressed our appreciation and delight in the freshly made sandwiches. Afterward, we had a piece of chocolate cheesecake. It was all good.

Eventually it was time to leave. We had lots of hugs and affection expressed. My father was smiling. My mother was smiling. We had honored my father in the way that he most appreciated. It was a good day.

Later that evening, Greg called and sang happy father's day to me. Then Lisa called and wished me a happy father's day.

It doesn't get any better than this.

New Job in Houston

By now I have told many members of the family that I've been offered an opportunity for an IBM job in Houston. This is the answer to numerous prayers over the years. IBM is a place in which its easy to get lost and have no meaning. Its also a place to travel hard. I've done both.

In September 2007, I got an email from a partner in IBM asking me if I was available to help with a client in St. Louis. I responded back quickly and said I was. At the time I had been "on the bench" for a couple of weeks and was pretty stressed about finding another assignment. So it was off to St. Louis to do an audit of a project that was deemed as "troubled". Three days later, I presented my results and was offered the job to manage the project to completion.

Over the next few months I would have the opportunity to meet and work with client executives and IBM executives that showcased my best side and capabilities. I discovered an area in IBM where I felt valued and could do some good.

In December, 2007, I approached a manager about transferring into his practice. He said he would welcome me with open arms, if my current manager agreed. To my surprise, my current manager did not agree and said he would consider transferring me in six months. This conflict provided a seed for substantive discussions about my role in IBM and what I was important to me. I expressed that the highest priority was to find a position working with large petroleum clients in Houston which would reduce my travel and allow me to be at home more. My manager offered to introduce me to the leader for petroleum business in the U.S. and ask him to talk to me. I agreed, though I was set on transferring and did not think much would come of the introduction.

It took three weeks, but I finally arranged to have lunch with the petroleum leader in Houston. To my surprise, he said they actually had a need in Houston that fit me like a glove. He said it would require the cooperation of my current manager to allow me the time to get up to speed and do the job. So I made several phone calls and wrote several emails. Everyone was so busy and it was discouraging. I finally got a lunch appointment with another manager in the Houston area that I thought was key to the potential role in Houston.

Fast forward.... my persistance looks like it may finally pay off. Everyone has agreed to give me the chance to work in the new role - developing business with key petroleum clients in Houston. They specifically want me to work in the area of custom application development and systems integration. This is something in which I have years of experience.

I am excited. I am blessed. I've asked everyone to pray for me to do my best for this opportunity. If I do that, I will succeed and I could be working in Houston a long, long time.

I'm a road warrior

I first heard the term road warrior many years ago, when it described a person whose job was selling and who did lots of traveling doing the job. Since then, the term has expanded in my understanding to describe anyone whose job or avocation requires that they travel regularly. Southwest airlines has recently defined three waiting lines to go through security. One line is deemed to be for expert travelers.

These are the people who spend a portion of the daily lives on an airplane. They are typically traveling to visit a customer or business associate or a conference. When you look at their airline ticket, they are typically classed as gold or platinum class frequent flyer. They carry one carryon bag and a backpack or attache case. Female road warriors may have one larger bag which they check. Their frequent flyer mileage counts are in 6 or 7 figures.

I am a road warrior. I live in hotels. I get up early on Monday morning to catch the first flight out. I fly home Thursday evening, or if its been a hard week, on a Friday morning or Friday afternoon. This is a hard life that limits your time to see you family, keep up your relation with your spouse, serve your church, or work on your hobbies. Its a life that leads to weight gain, if you eat typical traveling food and do not exercise.

I've been working in St. Louis since September 27, 2007, three nights and four days a week. I pay income tax to the state of Missouri and city of St. Louis because I work there frequently. I have a permanent gate check tag on my bag for Continental airlines. I book my hotel reservations three months in advance. I reserve a limousine to take me to/from the airport by email. The drivers all know me. I experience winters with snow and the dreaded weather delays in the airports.

But this is what it takes for me to have a really good paying job and stability and have a shot at building a good retirement. One critical element to survive, which I learned 3 years ago is to get plenty of exercise. I join the Y or the health club in the city where I work. This year I also play tennis with the members of my work team at the client site. On the weekends, I do a lot of cycling. All of this keeps me sane and stabilizes my weight.

It gets very lonely on these trips. Most nights I am sitting in my hotel room by myself, writing email or looking for things on the internet. I tend to buy stuff on the internet when I am on the road. Mostly its because I hate to drive someplace when I am in Houston to buy anything. It costs gas and most of all - my precious weekend time.

Occasionally I read the bible. I try to pray before every meal. Sometimes I pray in the morning and ask for help with my day, which is often stressful. My days always go better when I pray for help. It is truly amazing. In the last couple of years I have begun listening to Christian radio in the car. For the most part, I find it very refreshing and inspirational.

So here I sit in the airport. I prayed for help this morning. My day was amazing. The problems on the job melted away into opportunities.

Thank you, Lord.

What's in a name?

I was just reading my daughter's blog, her latest entry about a person she calls hero, who has inspired her and other fellow triathletes. I decided it was time that I began a blog of my own. As I filled out the forms, the first trick question was "what do you want to call your blog?".

Without even thinking, the notion of "The Spirit moves me" jumped into my head. The word Move is about the transformation that has happened in the last three years, inspired by daughter, my wife, and my son, I began moving - that is exercising. I did not spend my life being a slug. I played tennis in high school and college. I wrestled in college. I was a runner for a few years. I've had owned three bicycles in my adult life. But something happened when I had ankle surgery around 40 years old and I could not run anymore. My job stress and life stress led to slovenly life style that packed on the pounds until 3 years ago. That's when I bought my fourth bicycle just to be with my family on two wheels. Over a three year period and a purchase of the fifth bicycle, I've put myself back into decent physical condition. As my daughter said "Never in my dreams would I have thought I would get an email from my dad saying he just completed 5000 miles on his bicycle this year."

The Spirit part of the title alludes to my spiritual growth. I've been a Christian since 1976. Somewhere in the last 3 years, I feel that I've started growing up spirtually. I am slowly beginning to understand why God put me here and the foundation He provided for me (and everyone) in this life.

So, as lame as it may seem, "The Spirit moves me" is about my spirit and my body - my life.

Bob