A day to remember

This hasn't been the easiest of weeks for me. I feel like I have been hit from every angle - work, family, and mostly thinking of the events from last year. I had a little bit of an emotional breakdown. I guess we all have our moments and weaknesses. I have so many things I want to talk with him about. He was one of those people that could always understand me, not many of them out there. I don't know what it is, but after I would talk and talk and talk to Doug about all my stresses and worries, I would feel better and ready to move on. He would always have a story or way of making me realize the answer without saying it outloud. I keep coming back to the quote from Pres. Monson -

"Perhaps my greatest hope as a parent is to have such a relationship with you that when the day comes and you look down into the face of your own child, you will feel deep within you the desire to be to your child the kind of parent your dad has tried to be to you. What greater compliment could any man ask?"

I can only hope to be half the father Doug was to me.

Ethan, Liam, and I playing on a rainy day!

Lotoja Forever

On Monday, I came up with this idea. I had just finished my first cyclocross race of the year. I upgraded to the A's and got my butt kicked - took 5th. I realized I wasn't in the best shape for cross, but at the same time I understoof with four kids and a new job, life sometimes gets in the way. I'm ok with that. But I needed someone to talk to. That person was always my dad. I could always tell him everything, especially about cycling. He always understood me. It just felt better to have someone who always "got it" too. Since I cannot talk to my dad directly any more, my bright idea is to use this blog to write out thoughts and stories to my dad.

Lotoja is today. Lotoja is a bitter sweet word for me now. I have many fond years of riding with my dad and family on the 204 mile trek. I always looked forward to the challenge and training of the ride. Doug always impressed me with how strong of a rider he was. He was an inspiration to me and many. Doing the race for so many years, bumps in the road were bound to happen: broken bikes, bonking, injuries, and sickness. No one would have expected what happened last year, it had never happened in the 30+ years of Lotoja. I don't want to dwell on that experience today, it was a very painful time for me. There is one memory of Lotoja that stands out to me and showed my dad's pure grit and determination.

As I write about this I picture me and my dad sitting on the couch reminiscing about our grand adventures on the bike, laughing as we recall all our funny moments: me riding behind my dad and literally pushing his butt up the King of the Mountain climb because he was totally bonked, Kim using the bathroom, or how good watermelon tasted. The story that comes to mind today was when my dad rode Lotoja on a broken leg. Before Lotoja my dad was in some kind of an accident, I don't even remember how it happened? Funny how over time the details seem to fail me. But my dad had a hairline fracture in his leg and there was a huge bump on his shin. Riding a bike was extremely painful. Somehow - he did it! I don't know how, but he did. As you can see from the picture, it was very painful for him. The part that was the most amazing to me was that he never complained about it. I would have been whining like a mule (total Doug saying, I know). It was a real world experience for me, with a little determination and grit we can get through tough times in our life. There have been times since in my life where I didn't think I would be able to do it, but thought of him and put my head down and made it through.

As those riders ride on today, including Adam, Mindy, and Loren, I know my dad is riding on in spirit. Wish I was there to ride it one last time for him. Doug will always ride on in our memories forever.

Just thinking. That's all.

Normally, I don't work on bikes to much on Sunday, but today after Daren and Joanne left I needed a quiet time to be close to Doug. Working on bikes is one of those places for me. Cross season starts very soon (tomorrow actually) and I have been procrastinating the task of getting Doug's cross bike ready to race. It's amazing how comforting it is to take apart a bike and put it back together. I get terribly engulfed in the work. Today though I was doing it to be close to my dad.

Daren and Joanne came for a quick visit to drop Erin off in Eugene to attend the U of O for grad school. It was so nice to see them and have them here. We are very excited to have Erin and Pat close by. We don't have much family this way. Even though Doug and Daren have different personalities, there are so many similar mannerisms  that I couldn't help but be reminded of the old man.

Daren and I were able to get away for a few hours to ride the back roads of Eugene.  When Doug would come in to town, the first thing he would ask was, "When can we ride?" He loved the beauty and quiet roads of Eugene. They are country roads with little to no cars. You can ride double on most of the roads, allowing you ample time to catch up and talk. It was great catching up with Daren on our ride. I was reminiscing and talking about the last ride I did in Eugene with my Doug, Wolf Creek. It's an old logging road with trees so dense that they form a tunnel around you as you ride. He always wanted to take a detour and ride all the way to the coast, but I never got to do that one with him. On our last ride on Wolf Creek I was pulling out my camera to take an action photo of him riding and my camera slipped and broke. Never took pictures the same after that - a little blurry.

I think I realized how much I miss the little things with my dad. Erin and I had to go to her apartment to sign papers, but when I came back Daren was outside in the backyard playing with my boys. My dad loved to do that. It makes me sad to know that my kids are going to grow up without their grandpa. He really loved them.

I am grateful for family in that they can help fill these voids in my life. It will never be the same as having my dad back, but it helps.