The Hill

Today marks one week since I began riding my bike to work. A light rain nearly changed my mind this morning, but if I can’t ride in the rain in Seattle I might as well give up biking right now.

As I rode off the hill and through town the sweat on my face mixed with the rain drops. I could barely see through my sunglasses, but I kept riding. Twenty minutes later I was at work. My hands and ears were numb and I was shivering. My coworkers think I’m crazy, but cheer me on each day.

Each day the route gets a little easier. More people in cars are honking and waving instead of flipping me off now. Last week someone tossed an open water bottle at me as I was coasting down Lea Hill. But those are the outliers because most everyone who has seen me peddle down the hill or walk my bike up the hill has chimed in with encouragement.

A week ago I made it a third of the way up our hill before I had to get off my bike and walk the remainder. The first couple of days I felt discouraged but told myself I was going to make it up the hill within two weeks.

This evening, in a light rain mixed with sweat, I made it up our hill. If you heard someone cheering the last half mile, that was me.

Biking to Work

After months of saying I would ride my bike to work I finally did it today.

The five miles to work is quite easy as it’s mostly downhill. But getting back up the hill to our home wiped me out. I made it a third of the way before having to walk my bike up the remainder.

I was feeling good about myself until a family with young children passed me on the hill. When a friend pulled up next to me and offered a ride to my home I had sweat streaming down my face. I must have looked pathetic.

But I turned down the ride and continued walking my bike up the hill. Even that provided more exercise than I’ve done in a while. And tonight I don’t feel so bad about having to walk my bike while other bikers and cars passed me by.

It took me nearly 40 minutes to travel five miles. No wonder joggers were passing me.

I dropped nearly 60 lbs. five years ago by changing my diet. I have at least that much to lose today. I know it won’t be easy.

Although my muscles and my butt are sore, I feel energized and excited to do it again.

Tomorrow Never Knows

Last night’s episode of Mad Men was one of my favorites. I’m still getting accustomed to the new, gentler Don Draper. That Megan isn’t a pushover makes their relationship less predictable and more interesting.

TV shows such as Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, and Mad Men are so good that I’ve lost interest in firing up Netflix to catch up on the latest blockbuster I missed in the theater.

I recently made my way through all five seasons of the Wire, and will write about that another time. But, in short, I can’t imagine watching a better TV drama. It’s so good that it’s in a category all its own.

It would be a shame if Mad Men were to flame out over another four seasons. If they only have a season or two in them, that’s fine. Go out on top.

When the BBC version of the Office went off the air it left me wanting more. I couldn’t understand why Gervais only gave us two seasons of his extraordinary work.

Too many shows wear out their welcome. That’s how I feel about the NBC version of the Office. It’s living off fumes from the first few years of decent comedy. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to Don, Peggy, Pete and Roger.

The ending of last night’s episode would be a fitting finale with Don sitting in his chair listening to the Beatles, thinking who knows what.

“Turn off the old mind, relax, and float down stream…”

Why Write

When I first began jotting down my thoughts about 12 years ago, I wrote for one person: me. I didn’t give much thought to what I wrote about. On the rare occasion I was proud of a post, I’d tell Kim and she’d read it and encourage me to continue writing.

It wasn’t until 2004 when I wrote about walking away from a job that I realized a few people were following what I wrote. When a woman emailed to say that post had encouraged her to quit her job I wondered what I had done.

That’s when I began to consider why I continued to write. Those same thoughts have crept into my mind on a number of occasions.

Lately I’ve thought about how my writing may affect my children. I often write about the highs and lows of being a father, but I know they may not appreciate making those details public as they get older. I’ve begun to discuss that with them and will respect their decision even if it means I keep some experiences private. I suspect I often write about my children to avoid writing about my struggles in balancing a career with fatherhood.

Years later, I still don’t have a good answer when people ask why I write. I guess it doesn’t really matter.

I don’t want to be the type of father whose children rely on my writings in order to find out what I’m about because I wasn’t around. I want them to know why there’s no sport quite like baseball or why Zelda: Ocarina of Time is better than most games on the market today.

When my parents found notes written by my grandmother after her death, it made me wish that I had gotten to know the part of her that came through in the letters.

I don’t want my children or grandchildren to say the same about me.

Half My Life

Give or take a few years, about half my life is over.

Of course, I have no guarantee I’ll live to be 90 years of age. None of us do. But I suspect most of us can picture ourselves living into our 80’s or 90’s. I tend to see myself living at least as long as my grandparents did. That’s the best case scenario anyway.

Certainly genes have a say in it as does my level of exercise and diet. I’ve read that those who own a pet or believe in God also tend to live longer. If that’s true, then I can tack on a couple more years.

Speaking of diet, I took my kids to McDonalds for breakfast this morning. Don’t worry, I ordered a fruit and yogurt plate with walnuts which was just too healthy so I added a large Diet Coke to my meal after telling my children could not have root beer because nobody should be drinking soda for breakfast.

While we sat at our table waiting for our breakfast to arrive, my daughter commented that we were “surrounded by seniors” as she calls people who look older than her grandparents. She was right. Most of the tables were taken by people about twice my age. Between sips of coffee, many were in lively conversation. And they all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

I sat there wondering what amazing things these people had accomplished in their lives. The advances the world has seen since they were my age are mind-boggling. I wondered how many of them knew their way around a computer. I figured my kids probably knew more about the web than they did.

Our food arrived. Once the kids stopped fighting over who took greater portion of syrup we played a game where I ask them oddball questions such as, “Would you rather be chased by a bear or a hippo?” Of course, the answers are even less rational than my questions.

As we began to clear our table, I heard my phone ring. I was about to pull my phone from my pocket when I heard an older man answer his phone. I turned around to see he was speaking into an iPhone 4. I guess his hearing is better than mine.

If I live to be 90 years old, I can only hope that I’ll be hanging out at McDonalds with my friends, taking calls on my iPhone 45.

Still Relying on RSS

Taking to my blog to write about RSS reminds me a little of those who vent about privacy on Facebook. My intention isn’t to defend RSS because it doesn’t need me to defend it. Instead I’d like to point out how I use it and why it’s still valuable to me in a world of Twitter, Facebook, and Google+.

OK, I threw that last one in there for laughs.

It’s true that these services do bubble up some great content. Curious people post links to interesting content. But combing through thousands of tweets and status updates is a major time suck. I seldom go back through my streams searching for content I missed because the best stuff comes back around.

And really, if it’s tech news I’m after, I can get my fix at Techmeme.

At least 90% of the RSS feeds I subscribe to come to me through Reeder on either my iPhone or iPad. I’ve tried products such as the popular Flipboard or Zite that integrate RSS with Twitter and Facebook and attempt to beautify the content for various devices, but I find they get in the way more than they help.

Reeder takes the opposite approach. It presents the content and gets out of the way. It’s been my favorite iOS app for three years now.

But I can’t imagine RSS is going anywhere. I rely on it more today than I did five years ago. I follow a few popular writers such as Bob Lefsetz and Dave Winer, but they are the exceptions. Both Bob and Dave write often and are followed by tens if not hundreds of thousands of people. Yet it’s hard to imagine them writing any differently if they had a dozen readers. They have strong opinions and share personal stories. Those two traits are shared by both popular and lessor known writers I follow.

Those who share personal experiences tend to make it onto my RSS list before all others. Some of them may refer to a news story that hits CNN, but they spend less time reporting the details and more time sharing their take on the matter. A few see the world through a view finder and allow their pictures to tell a story. I love finding an unknown writer, adding it to my feed, and then sharing it with others.

Who knows what Facebook and Twitter will do with their feeds. I don’t have control over that. But I have full control of my RSS feed. That counts for a lot.

“Your Insurance Didn’t Cover It”

“Four hundred and thirty dollars.”

“How much was that again?”

“Four hundred and thirty dollars. Your insurance didn’t cover it.”

Although it’s easy for me to point out mistakes I’ve made as a father, I’ve always been able to provide for my family. I’ve kept a roof over our heads and food on the table along with the basic necessities of life. With each child we’ve brought into our family we’ve made adjustments to our budget and helped set expectations with our children on a realistic number of activities in which they can participate.

There are times I wish I could do more for them. Between church and school activities we’ve had to limited the number of sport leagues and music lessons we can handle in any one season. It’s as much a time commitment as it is a budget issue. But there are times when we don’t have the money to pay for camps or lessons so we must be creative in finding alternative outlets for our children’s energy and creativity.

Kim and I both grew up in middle class families. Her father worked as an IT administrator and my father spend over thirty years teaching and coaching at a high school. We both had what we needed, but didn’t grow up in families where the children were showered with expensive clothing and new cars waiting for them at age 16.

I don’t recall my father ever buying a new car until most of the kids were gone. My parents drove hand-me-down vehicles from grandparents or bought used cars. I recall looking through the blinds on our front window and watching my father pull a used station wagon into the carport when I was 13 or 14. My sisters and I ran outside and celebrated like my father had won a Ferrari.

As frugally as we lived, I never recall a time when we didn’t expect to receive the best health care possible. We didn’t postpone visits to the doctor or dentist. As a young boy, I required stiches over a dozen times. My father never tried to close a wound with Super Glue or apply a Butterfly bandage and call it good. I never heard, “Let’s avoid the high co-pay of the emergency room tonight and see our primary doctor in the morning.”

If we needed to see a doctor we made an appointment. If medication was available that could ease pain, we had it. We may have shaved a few dollars off our grocery bill by shopping for store brands, but didn’t shave pennies when it came to seeing the doctor.

This brings me to last weekend. More specifically, to the four hundred and thirty dollars.

That was the cost of one bottle of pills someone in our family needed. Although we pay over $500/month in health insurance premiums, our insurance didn’t cover a dime towards the pills. I’m certain this very situation plays itself out thousands of times a day in pharmacies around the US.

As Kim and I sat in our car at the drive-thru pharmacy, we didn’t spend more than five seconds making a decision to skip the meds. It wasn’t a difficult decision because we didn’t have the money.

I suppose we can debate the condition and affordability of health care in the United State all night. But that’s not why I decided to write this.

I decided to write this down tonight because this experience, at the drive-thru pharmacy, is the first time I’ve felt that maybe I can’t provide my family with the care they need.

And it feels just as strange to admit that.

Two Minutes

11 years ago I drove our gutless but reliable Subaru Outback down 405 towards Overlake Hospital where our first child would be born a few hours later. We named her Luca.

Although I’d had about eight months to prepare for her arrival, I was as stunned as the day Kim told me I was going to be a father. I had no words to describe the feeling nor was I sure how to reply so I did what came naturally and hugged her while thinking, “I’ve got to get my act together.”

Any apprehension I felt before that day, disappeared the first time I wrapped Luca in a blanket like a burrito and rocked her to sleep.

Today I’m lucky if she’ll jump on my lap while I’m at my computer or on the couch. She prefers to position herself so that she can text with friends while I rub her feet. I wonder what I did to deserve such a lovely daughter who is like me in some ways, but better in so many others?

Yesterday afternoon, I snuck in the back of the gym to watch her principal recognize students for their achievements in subjects ranging from music to math. After the assembly, we spent a few minutes talking before I kissed her head and sent her back to class.

On the return drive to work, I thought to myself, “I just took over an hour out of my day to spend maybe two minutes with my daughter”.

Maybe, after 11 years, I’m beginning to get my act together.

I’m A Mormon And I Don’t Watch Fox News

I’m less likely to discuss my beliefs about religion today than I was ten or twenty years ago. That sounds odd because, as I’ve written before, I served in Germany as a missionary for two years where I spent twelve hours a day attempting to convert Germans to my religion.

Looking back on those two years, it’s clear that I gained a lot more than I gave to the German people. I learned to speak up for my beliefs and my country. I learned to read a map, enjoy new foods and speak a foreign language that would later help me through college.

It also helped me realize that beliefs are uniquely personal, and I don’t believe I could return and speak to them in that arrogant tone only a 20 year old with two quarters of college could pull off.

This comes at a time when the media is taking a close look at Mitt Romney’s membership in the LDS church as well as a national “I’m a Mormon” campaign that’s made its way onto TV.

What makes me feel uncomfortable and less likely to discuss my beliefs are the words I read on Facebook and Twitter from members whom I’m unable to relate to. Many use Facebook to not only disagree with President Obama but to craft lengthy rants about why he’s the anti-Christ.

My parents taught me to respect the President of the United States even if I didn’t agree with all his polices. I was taught that the office of the President should be respected, and I still believe that today. But when I hear such vitriolic nonsense about President Obama while attending church it makes me step back and rethink my involvement with these people.

I want to be clear that the leaders of my church do not condone this behavior. In fact, around election time, they remind the members that they do no endorse a political party. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ll find far more members who consider themselves Republican than Democrat. During the 2008 presidential election, a friend wanted the LDS church to officially back John McCain. I’m sure he wasn’t alone.

So much for the separation of church and state.

I don’t mind that my political beliefs don’t sync up with most of my fellow Mormons. But I’m having a more difficult time listening and reading about how many of them despise our current President and any policy or positions he’s taken. Many spout off their hatred for any socialist program such as health care reform that will result in health coverage for more Americans.

What many of my fellow Mormons forget is that our church has an impressive welfare program to help its members through difficult times. Members also donate “fast offerings” that go to help those in need at the local level. Many of our lessons teach us about the benefits of giving service in our community, and to search out and assist those in need. But these teachings stand in stark contrast to the “everyone man for himself” philosophy portrayed by some of my fellow members.

It’s all beginning to feel like a zero sum game: if we’re right then you’re wrong in not only your religious but also your political affiliations. Is there room for those of us with more moderate political views in a sea full of strong conservative members?

I guess what it comes down to is that I no longer want to be lumped in with these people because we happen to belong to the same church. I don’t share their hate for the President nor do I believe President Obama is evil, or that women need me to make choices for them, or that those on unemployment or welfare are lazy bums feeding off the system.

Not all Mormons will automatically be voting for Romney come November, nor do all of us worship Glenn Beck or base our political views by what we hear on Fox News.

But what I really hope is that all the hate fades away.

I Would Have Missed It

Had I been out of town on a business trip I would have missed it.

If I were still commuting to Redmond I would have missed it.

Had my day been stacked with one meeting after another I would have missed it.

If I were still working for a boss who managed by intimidation and fear I would have missed it.

But I don’t and I didn’t.

On short notice I left work and drove three miles to my daughter’s school where I stood in a downpour waiting for her to emerge from her math competition.

That I had left my jacket in the car and was getting soaked didn’t matter because there was no way I was going to miss her smile when she recognized I was there to meet her.

These short and often unplanned interactions with my children may seem insignificant to many, but I’ve learned they are often the best moments in a day. But you have to be present. No elaborate weekend activity can make up for lost time.

Early in my career I relied on my spouse, neighbors or friends to pickup the slack because my job required a lot of travel. And even when I was in town, I was taking calls and replying to email that never seemed to end. This is no way to live, but I had little to compare it to.

I won’t make that mistake again. No title or amount of money is worth having to miss out on these interactions.

I doubt today meant as much to my daughter as it did to me. But I’m betting that my cumulative efforts will pay off down the road. Because when the day comes when her smile is nowhere to be seen, I still want to her know that I’ll be there for her.