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When Susan and I first got married, I just wanted to be married for a while, just the two of us. But she wanted a dog.

So I agreed to a dog on one condition: That we’d wait six months before getting one. We had been fostering a dog that summer, 15 years ago, and had a crate to return to the shelter where he came from after he found a permanent home. It wouldn’t fit in my car, but for some unexplained reason we wound up going to the PetCo where they were having an adopt-a-pet.

Right away, Susan found this little, soft, tan and white puppy with a scraggly little tail. She literally had to wake this puppy up. In fact, it wasn’t even really interested in us. But Susan picked her up and begged me to let her take her home. “Look at her. She’s the perfect little Smudge dog.”

I wasn’t convinced, but after some relentless pleading, we found ourselves driving home with a new puppy. My only condition was that it was SUSAN’S dog until March (our 6-month anniversary and agreed-upon date), because I didn’t want to take care of house breaking or feedings or walks quite yet.

A friend of Susan’s offered to loan her a puppy-sized kennel for us to use so we “bought” Smudge, packed her up and drove to her house. For yet another unexplained reason, Susan drove and I sat in the back seat with SUSAN’S dog. Smudge just laid in my arms, her little head resting on my chest, and fell fast asleep.

From that moment on, she stole my heart, and she convinced me (and even Susan) that she was MY dog.

Susan kept her word, though, and did most of the work during Smudge’s puppy years. She taught her a lot of her tricks, came home from work every lunchtime to let her out, and always took her running with her. Susan got us to be good students of dog discipline. We prided ourselves on having a well-behaved dog who didn’t slobber and jump all over our visitors. But part of that was her shy personality, too. Smudge was not a “beggy” dog either. She knew when it was her turn to eat and waited patiently for us to finish our meals, but as soon as we did, she was ready to pounce. The way she acted, you’d think she was getting a fresh gourmet meal instead of some dry dog food.

Smudge Memories from danrphoto on Vimeo.

Smudge loved an adventure of any kind, and we always took her out to the dog park to let her swim and run. She loved getting the other dogs to chase her. When she was young she was always the fastest dog at the park. Just when it seemed like one dog was about to catch her, she’d kick in that “extra gear” she seemed to have. I remember my dad got a kick out of that when he came to visit. He would brag about her like a proud grandpa.

She loved to play chase, but loved even more chasing bunnies and squirrels. With bunnies she didn’t so much chase them as stalk them. She would stealthily creep as close as she could to them and then let loose her mighty sprint. Sometimes her efforts to move unnoticed by the varmints seemed almost painful as she moved millimeter by millimeter, daring not even to blink. The only real bunny she ever caught was a small young one she managed to corner in our big pampas grass. It was a strange mixture of horror and delight, seeing that little creature’s lifeless body as I got Smudge to drop it. Her dog-smile was almost maniacal looking her with her white chest streaked with blood.

Smudge was an amazing athlete. We used to take her on as many trips with us as we could. She loved the couple of times we went to Colorado. As we were mountain biking a steep trail, huffing and puffing in the thinner air, she was just darting back and forth across the trail, disappearing and reappearing between us, probably covering three times the territory we did on our bikes. I think I was almost as happy as she was, just seeing the joy on her face.

I tried to make Smudge a super Frisbee dog too. But she had more fun finding poop to roll in or taking a “nature-break” mid competition. Smudge never scored very high on competition days, but we always had fun going with her. On her debut competition she wound up on the local news, when she decided that going to meet a handsome Rottweiler would be more fun than bringing back the disc. She was the perfect mix of stubborness and obedience.

One Tired Dog

So it broke our hearts when our superdog started to slow down, and couldn’t keep up with her mommy on her runs anymore and she found less joy in being chased by other dogs at the park, and stayed next to us instead of exploring new territory. And when the dry food didn’t excite her, I let her have canned. When that stopped working, I cooked her these gourmet meals — turkey burgers and french toast, chicken breasts and eggs, and a even filet at the end.

All dog lovers do everything we can to keep our pups happy and healthy. We want to please them because it brings us joy to see them excited and happy. But really, they live to please US, because it brings them even more joy to see us happy.

On our way to see the vet, we stopped at one of her spots along the trail and went down to the creek and got in the water one last time. The three of us waded in and Smudge found strength to find the deeper water, get cooled off and take a few sips from the surface just like she always did when she swam. Although I had to carry her part of the way back to the car, she still had some strength to walk along the trail. When her ears perked up, I knew she must have seen something only visible to her; that last elusive bunny. And if it had been closer, maybe she would have given it one last chase.

Back in the car, my puppy rested one last time in my lap, her head on my chest, looking at me with those big brown eyes. I don’t think I could have loved her any more than I did at that moment, but I know she just wanted to make sure.

I Still Love You Too

A lot of people in our lives have said some wonderful things to us with Smudge’s passing, but I think my friend Ernie may have said it best:
“Only a dog eating a hard cookie can make it sound absolutely delicious,
and only a dog can find the absolute softest part of a person’s heart
where she will remain forever.”

Susan and I have been doing a workout together. Yeah, it’s one of those late-night infomercial workouts that shows “amazing results” from “real people just like you.” We’ve done video workouts before; Both did “30-Day Shred” and got good results. She did “Slim in Six” and did well. I tried “P90X” for all of a week and hated it. But this is really the first time we both did the same workout and stuck to it. It’s called “Insanity.” Susan did not miss ANY workouts, despite her work schedule, and I only missed two during a very busy period of work. She also ran at least 4 miles every day, sometimes eight miles; I tried to get in as much cycling as I could too.

Smiley face hiding an six-month-old “dumbell drop” injury.

My heaviest, a year and a half ago, was about 207. When I started Insanity, I was about 195. I had two main goals for the 60-day workout: Get rid of my bulging midsection and get down to the weight of three pro athletes whom I admire. There are not many pro cyclists who are as tall as I am, but Tom Boonen, George Hincapie and Fabian Cancellara all have done great things, and they are all around 6’4″ tall, and all weigh about 183 pounds. I figured if I could just get down to those proportions, then I could haul my butt up some hills a little faster, and not suffer as much on group rides. I think it worked. I don’t feel like I’m hauling as much baggage up the hills, and my average speed and endurance seem better.

Susan’s results have been even more dramatic. She is down about 20 pounds and she has totally transformed her body. She was fit before, but now she looks ripped. Every day at work people compliment her new body, especially her arms. Susan had nice arms before, but now she’s got GUNS!

I think we are going to keep doing this workout, after a little break. My next goal: up-and-coming superstar, Taylor Phinney – 6’4″ 180. And Susan has her eyes on the next in the series: “Insanity Asylum.”

When I hear of married people not getting along with their in-laws, it makes me appreciate how lucky I am to have had wonderful ones, whose company I have enjoyed, and whom I’ve loved and respected. Today marks the first anniversary of the passing of my wonderful mother-in-law, Emiko Gumescheimer, the best anyone could have ever asked for.

We first met over dinner when Susan and I were dating. Emiko seemed very quiet and shy that night and I worried that she might not like me. But soon after that, I discovered her great sense of humor, and felt welcomed by her during our visits home. She was always working tirelessly for us when we came home. It seemed like she was only off her feet when it was time to eat the meals she spent all day cooking. Her hard work often continued into the evening when she would do some sewing for Susan or some other bit of organizing that just had to get done that night. Emiko was incredibly fastidious. She kept an incredibly clean house, and although there was lots of stuff in every closet and nook, she knew exactly where everything went and how it should be put away.

Emiko in Japan

Emiko and James met while he was stationed in Japan during his time in the Navy. I often thought about what it must have been like for her to leave behind friends and family in Japan and come from such a different culture to live here, first in the San Diego area and then to tiny Bazine and Cimarron, Kansas. But Emiko made the best of wherever she was planted. She made friends easily and found those bits of her culture to hold on to in America.

Emiko had the rarest of qualities in her, and I have met precious few who share it. If you met her you would agree. Everyone who knew her, even in the most casual way, everyone who was a part of her life, felt like they had a special relationship with her – a connection that was somehow deeper than one with the average person. That was evident in the packed church the day of her funeral. In addition to loving family and friends who were there, people from the hairdressers, the bank and the cancer center came. Even people from the JC Penney store who always chatted with her when she came by. They knew her, and the friendship between them was real. I know it had a lot to do with her beautiful smile and her easy laughter, but she really did care about other people, and she appreciated good service and help from those she met while she was shopping or doing business in town.

Cimarron Kansas, 2007

During the last couple years of her life, she fought the most aggressive kind of lung cancer, and suffered through a year of chemotherapy. They were tough times for her. Emiko always took pride in her appearance, and made sure she was dressed nicely, if not fashionably, when she left the house. Losing her hair and watching her body suffer the effects of treatment, must have been difficult. When her treatments tapered off, and her hair returned, it came in full, and in a silky silver color. Susan and I thought it looked chic and tried to convince her to keep her silver hair, but she wouldn’t have it. She went back to brunette, but she was a classy lady no matter what her hair color was.

She beat her cancer, got through her treatments and conquered her disease the way she traveled through life; with kindness, dignity, and laughter while making friends along the way.

When loved ones pass in peoples lives, you sometimes hear them say, “If only I could have told her I love you one more time.” We never missed an opportunity to say that to her, but it doesn’t make us miss her any less. We miss her terribly a year later. And although going home is still as loving and comfortable as it ever was, her absence is deeply felt. But Emiko still lives in our hearts and our memories and in those special relationships she had. She lives another place too; Inside my beautiful wife, Susan. I see Emiko in her eyes and in her smile. I hear Emiko’s laugh inside of hers and Susan’s fastidiousness and flair for fashion is a product of her mom’s. And that rare quality that Emiko had, the special connection she shared with people in her life, inhabits Susan too.

One year ago today, my father passed away. I called my mom today and we both couldn’t believe that it has only been that long. This past year has just flown by.

I am who I am largely because of my dad. He was a man who worked hard to provide for his family, he enjoyed a good laugh and never had a problem speaking his mind. He loved his Buffalo Bills and would always want to talk about a recent game if I called him during the season. The picture below is from a birthday biplane ride over Niagara wine country that my siblings and I got for him. It’s not something that he would have ever considered spending money on for himself.

Wally in a biplane

I also live where I do in part because of my father. When I was three or four years old, we lived in Overland Park. He worked for AT&T in KC for a couple of years and I had vague, fond memories of living here. I decided to come back and go to school at KU after we lived in New York during the rest of the time I was growing up. On one of his visits out here, he was amazed by all the wild sunflowers growing around the area. He asked me once to send him some seed heads so he could plant some in Buffalo. I’m not sure if I ever got around to doing that.

September 15th Sunflower

A few months back I planted some sunflower seeds, not expecting them to do anything, since it was kind of late to be planting flowers. But at the time, I was thinking of that time my dad asked me for seeds. Two sprouted next to each other in the front of our house and this one (above) is the one that survived. Today is the first day that the petals have really opened up wide and you can see the seeds inside start to mature. A lot of things remind me of him from time to time; people playing golf, an old green Camry, and from now on – sunflowers in September.

Sunday was a great day for racing and the final stage of the 2009 Tour of Missouri did not disappoint.

Garmin closing the gap on the final lap.

I was able to catch the action from several different spots as I walked the course from downtown to Summit St. through Penn Valley Park and then to the finish for the final couple of laps at Crown Center. It was an incredibly fast race 72 miles in 2:33! 28 mph average for this twisting, hilly course is amazing.

Gibert beats a world-class field

This is the first year the stage race has finished in Kansas City. St. Louis has been the host for the final stage the first two years of the ToM. This year, stage 7 was a hilly 10.2 miles circuit that finished on a long, wide stretch through downtown KC. Thousands gathered at the finish line at Crown Center.

Garmin-Slipstrem’s David Zabriskie won the general classification, 30 seconds ahead of Saxo Bank rider Gustav Larsson of Sweden. Columbia-HTC’s Marco Pinotti (ITA) came in third. Cervelo’s Thor Hushovd (NOR) ran away with the sprint jersey, more than doubling the points of his closest competitor.

It’s possible that this is the last year for the Tour of Missouri. The state does not have the money to put into it, but I hope when they take a close look at the numbers, they will realize that this event is a big asset for Missouri.

See some more of my images from stage 7 here.

I haven’t been having the best luck with cycling lately. On the last few long rides I have taken, I’ve run into mechanical difficulty; most recently, two flat tires on a 75-miler, which I had to cut short to 52.

Today was the Cider Mill Century. I have been looking forward to this 100-mile ride all summer, and have been training hard, so that I would be able to enjoy the ride. The weather has been great the past couple of weeks and that made me even more excited about the ride, since it would be chilly at the start, and only about 80 by the finish. That’s 23 degrees cooler that the last time I did this ride, and suffered through the last 30 miles or so. I’ve been getting slimmer too, as my training has helped me shed 13 pounds in the past couple months. But the last few days, I have been downing the carbs so I could drag my butt up the hills with the fast riders.

After a 45-minute drive to Louisburg, KS, I parked and proceeded to get ready for the ride, got registered, got my bike out and my jersey on, got all SPF’d up and went to put on my shoes… “Where are my shoes?” “Why they are at home in the garage, of course, just where you left them, dummy.”

Left them Hanging

Of all the things you could leave behind for a bike ride, shoes are nearly the worst choice. You could leave a jersey home and just ride in a t-shirt and not look too out of place. Forgetting your sunglasses would just mean you’d be squinting a bit more. Even if you didn’t have cycling shorts you could still manage to ride, albeit less comfortably. But the shoes. I don’t think even cutting the ride short and cycling in my hiking boots would have been a good thing. Maybe I could have ridden with the 25-mile group in the back with the ladies. I would have turned some heads in my Assos jersey and bib shorts cruising along at 12 mph.

Since the parking lot was jam-packed, I had to wait to leave until after the ride started. The JCBC people were nice enough to give me my money back when I went to tell them I wasn’t doing the ride. It was heart-breaking to watch everyone else depart and even harder to miss out on those Cider Mill doughnuts at the end. The drive home was depressing, and to top it off, the Clash song “Rudie Can’t Fail” came up on the iPod. Still not sure if that was meant to cheer me up, or to mock me!

So my luck continued when I got home. I decided to go get some miles in, and do my Lawrence and back route – 63 miles or 75, depending on which way you go. I got as far as Linwood and broke a spoke on my front wheel. I could have just continued with a wobbly front, but decided the way my luck has been going, I’d better just turn around and limp home. I’d have to settle for 30 miles instead of 100.

And if I have to drive any distance to the next group ride, I will have a checklist filled out and double-checked.

After my ride this morning I was taking a cool down lap around the neighborhood and ran across this car parked on the street.

Donutted

I don’t think I have ever seen a car victimized in this manner before, the unfortunate recipient of the triple threat of donuts, plastic wrap, and chocolate sandwich cookies. The plastic wrap seemed a half-hearted effort, since there were only a few wrappings. To really make that work, you need to either wrap the car in such a way as to make the wrap invisible, or else wrap it so much that it takes an hour to get it off.

A mountain of Krispy Kremes

I wonder where all these donuts came from. Someone must have raided the dumpster at Krispy Kreme and taken all the unsold goods. If someone ever decides to donut my xB, I hope I wake up in time to enjoy a couple of glazeds before they get all yucky.