Mr. Control Freak

My kids live with their father, my ex-husband, which is a long and painful story. They moved in with him last July. (This is just background - not rehash, I swear.)

Last week, my son was at Scout Camp. As sometimes happens when you combine boys, outdoors and nighttime, he got hurt. He fell while playing some game in the dark (details are very sketchy here, I can't get a straight story out of him) and cut open his knee. He was taken to the Emergency Room and got 5 stitches. This is not the problem.

He needed to leave the stitches in for a week and a half before having them removed. This is also not the problem.

I picked up my son a week ago on Saturday. So, he is with me this week, the week that he needs to get the stitches out. This is the problem, because it gave Mr. Control Freak ex an excuse to be his control freaky self all over me. Now the kids live with him, he is so "concerned" all the time about what is going on when they are with me. As should be obvious, stitches provide an excellent reason to be "concerned."

First of all, the ex says that "he has a call into the doctor's office to get an appointment for the stitches," and "am I going to take care of this." Now, of course, the ex is not volunteering to provide transportation, which is not trivial since I live 45 minutes to an hour away, depending on traffic. No, the ex is just going to get the appointment, and then it will be up to me to do two hours of driving for what will be a 5 minute procedure. Tops. Since the kids have Kaiser, my son does not have to go to the office near where my ex lives. No, he could go to the office near where I live. The ex, being the kind and considerate soul that he is, has not called the office that is conveniently close to me. No. But he is "concerned."

Not wanting to get somehow maneuvered into the above ridiculous amount of driving, I tell the ex that if he wants to take care of it he can, but he must provide the transportation. Otherwise, I will call, make the appointment, and get the stitches taken out.

This is apparently not good enough. So, I repeat the above statement that he can take care of it if he wants to, 3 or 4 (or maybe 10) times, with the end result that I am the one who will take care of it. I knew that this is what would happen, as the ex won't put himself out more than he must. However, it's ok to make some arrangement that entails me driving for 2 hours. That is not a problem.

Now, this whole week, the ex is calling every day to find out what's going on. After all, he is "concerned." And, we must go through the whole stupid dance about who is going to take care of it. The ex doesn't want to do it, he just wants me to do it "his" way.

Thankfully, this saga is coming to an end, as I took my son to the clinic this morning and had the stitches removed. My son is fine, the wound healed nicely. The only one who might not be fine is the ex.

My first group ride

Now, this was a while ago (in 2001) but I think this is worth re-living. Mostly for the point that I have come a long way - and also, because in retrospect it makes a funny story.

Otherwise known as: I-am-on-a-group-ride-and-I-don't-belong-here.

My first group ride. Billed as an "easy" ride, we go slow on this ride, they said. Pretty easy rollers they said.

They lied through their teeth.

I show up. I am a newbie bike rider, and it's cold so I am wearing a fleece. I get a question if I don't have a more moisture resistant jacket. No, I say. I can TELL that my attire is not correct, but it is all I own at this point, so it will have to do.

Starting off, and already I'm panting and huffing. We are riding much faster than I am used to. This is within the 1st half mile. Before we hit the first hill.

It was a HILL da** it! Not an "easy roller!" A BIG HONKIN' HILL!!!

I stick with the group for one... second when we turn the corner and start up the hill, then they ride away from me like I'm standing still. Actually, I am standing still, cause I can't ride up this stupid flamin' "roller."

Time passes. I am seriously suffering here, but I refuse to get off and walk my bike. I think I could have a heart attack right here and die.

Someone comes back to check on me (to make sure that I have not died, I guess.) Finally, hit a downhill and rejoin the group. They pack up the picnic that they enjoyed while they were waiting for me, and we continue.

It is now slightly downhill, so although I am still working like a DOG I am at least staying with the group. Let's not discuss the fact that they are all holding a conversation as though they are at a tea party. I am the only one in pain here.

I get a flat. No, I don't know how to change a flat. No, I didn't know I had tubulars. (I'd had my bike for all of 2 weeks at this point.) There were multiple bike dudes just screamingly ready to change this sucker for me, but they couldn't cause I didn't have any gear, and they all had clinchers. I felt like the biggest bike dork on the face of the planet.
Discussion ensues. (a) we are about 5-10 miles from the cars (b) I have a flat (c) The plan was to continue on and do a longer route. Although I did have a couple of the guys offer to accompany me back to my car (I found out on this day that while you can't ride on a flat clincher you CAN on a flat tubular w/out damaging the rims) - I refused. I already felt like I'd held them up enough and I was so TIRED at this point I could have laid down at the side of the road and taken a nap.

I start heading back to my car. (By an alternate FLAT way, not the "rollers" version.) *THUMP*THUMP*THUMP* It starts raining. Of course, my fleece not being quick drying/wicking/yada yada now weighs approximately 20 lbs. *THUMP*THUMP*THUMP* Because of the flat tire I can only ride like 5 mph, and that is pushing it. *THUMP*THUMP*THUMP* I finally get to the multi-use trail that will go right by my car. It is as flat as a pancake, thank goodness. As I *THUMP*THUMP*THUMP* along, some jogger passes me. I've bonked by this point, working too hard, no fuel, etc. etc. I am so cold I am shivering. The fleece should keep me warm, even though it's wet, but I've used up so much energy that I have no reserves. I'm blinking back tears because I feel so completely out of shape and pathetic.

This was a death ride. This was the toughest ride I've EVER done in my entire life. I would have gotten off the bike and walked, but it would have taken longer and all I wanted was to see my car as fast as possible.

Finally, after years and years, I made it back to my car, drove home, took a hot shower and slept for the rest of the day.

I did this same ride in the spring of 2002. The whole thing. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and although I still got dropped a bit on the hills, I too had times where I could have a conversation. I'm not going to say it has been my biggest achievement, but I cannot even tell you how good I felt about conquering this ride that had brought me so low the year before.

First Post

I've blogged before, but found that I was making it too specific (a craft blog, a workout blog, etc.) I tried multiple blogs, but that didn't seem to be the right answer either. The blog server I used before, also had pop-ups which really irritate me on someone else's blog, ergo, irritate me on my own blog as well.

I like keeping a record of what I've been doing - and this is a good way to do it. I may write about anything and everything, whatever happens to hold my interest...

So, I guess this is the formal first post to this blog!

I will probably be adding in some older entries, just to catch up - but this is the official one.

That Guy

That Guy By Tom Demerly.

Read this. If you're not sure that you should be doing triathlons or that you are not good enough at it. This article is so true. To someone out there, you ARE That Guy.