In the line of work ...

One of the sad realities of life is that we all have experienced an injury of some sort while at work, be it from our own negligence, faults with the work environment, or a stroke of misfortune. Very few people I know have been spared, but by and large, the injuries have been fairly minor. To those unfortunate souls who have suffered significant injury or worse, my deepest sympathies.

My wife got one of those calls. Parents will understand what I mean ... the phone rings, the display says it's your son, the one that rarely calls. Answering the call with a cheery, "Hey bud! What's up?" The reply of, "I'm at the hospital" strikes a surge of adrenalin prompting an immediate elevation of heart rate. Thankfully, the rest of the conversation provides relief when it's revealed that our mechanic son had somehow found a way to punch himself in the face, splitting his own top lip. Now, while I can conjure up the scene ... worthy of at least a few thousand "hits" on YouTube if it were captured ... I am still curious how such a thing can happen. I guess this is something that is actually not uncommon, especially when working under a vehicle on a hoist, reefing on a stubborn rusty nut or bolt with some sort of tool. In the end, he drove himself to the hospital, and three stitches later, he's right back under the same car. Ladies and gentlemen, your employee of the month, Keaton Porter.

Some of you who have followed this Blog will be aware that I am an amateur shutterbug with an affinity for youth sports action, in particular. I have spent countless hours on the sidelines or in-goals of various playing surfaces recording the action, much to the pleasure of the participants when I share my handiwork. Occasionally, the action spills over the boundaries of the playing surface, and on one particular occasion, I bore the brunt of the sudden stop of a player's momentum, resulting in a "souvenir" to remind me of the collision. I was running my annual Sr Boy's Basketball tournament, the Hoopfest, and I was on the baseline of the court at the former Barrie Central. A hotly contested breakaway layup resulted in a mid-air collision that sent the shooter careening into me as I tried to capture the action, pushing the camera backwards into my face, leaving me with a nice little gash on my lower lip. While I didn't seek medical help ... although stitches could have been a thought ... the swollen bottom lip was an interesting tale to tell to my classes on the following Monday morning. The resulting scar visible in the mirror each time I look serves to remind me of the good times.

Now, not all injuries actually take place at work, but are directly linked to the task of having to work to support yourself. Not to be outdone by myself or her brother, my daughter had a pretty significant mishap a wee bit ago, while rushing to get herself ready to leave the house for work one morning. The "Reader's Digest" version is that she tripped coming down the stairs and somehow ended up using her own forehead to snap both of the bones in her left forearm. Imagining the fall is not difficult, especially if you've watched enough YouTube videos of daredevils wiping out, but imagine falling, struggling to get up, and watching your own forearm bend in the middle in a wholly unnatural manner. Yikes! Now add to that, having the wherewithal to manage a 911 call to your own home for help. The whole affair resulted in a significant surgery resulting in a two titanium plates and host of screws. The journey back to work was a task but I am happy to tell you that she has not had any lingering impairments. It makes for a great story to tell your kids, when you finally have some.

You'll be happy to know that I have procured a bubblewrap suit for Joyce when she goes to look after her little darlings ... she's living on borrowed time, you know. HaHa!

The Tiny Township Trials

NOTE: I originally wrote this back in August but never posted it. It's a neat story so I thought now's as good as any time to post. 

Life in Social Distancing was cool for a while, but as the summer months hit, the glorious weather became consistent, and the lure of the many amazing shores of water around Simcoe County increased, we decided to venture out. Call it a mini "stay-cation" if you will.

I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I have lived the bulk of my years in this area and there are still portions of the county that I have never seen, other than in photos. I convinced Joyce that I would like to go to the northern end of the county to see Lafontaine Beach because I had heard that it was a nice place. 

Since it was a stay-cation and we had no particular schedule to meet, the "senile" route was chosen as the path to follow. We packed a most delicious picnic, threw the bikes in the back of the pickup, and pointed north up Crossland Road. We have taken Crossland on a number of occasions ... some to visit my brother who lives on it and some to visit Allenwood Beach where a friend has a cottage ... but we had never gone beyond the Flos #11 turn for Allenwood. The countryside was resplendent with Canadian agricultural efforts, the seas of various colours spreading out as far as the eye could see. When we reached the fork in the road at what appeared to be the end, we decided on the part less travelled and meandered our way through the communities of cottages along Tiny Beaches Road. This circumvented route took us through a variety of little villages ... the beaches that are all named on the maps of the western shores along Georgian Bay like Balm, Ardmore, Cawaja, Wahnekewaning, Belle-eau-Claire, and Georgian Sands Beaches before finally entering Lafontaine. I have to admit that I was surprised to find a fairly substantial community in Lafontaine. I had never occurred to me that it would be a destination for so many. 

My wonderment soon turned to frowns as the signs posted every few metres warned of parking fines for anyone that was not displaying a Tiny Township Resident Permit. Undaunted, I was content to head to the beach area and fork over the cash required to purchase a parking pass. I was shocked to find out that out of area visitors could not even pay for parking, prompting more than one head-scratching moment. Not to be defeated, and bolstered by years of searching for parking at Wasaga, we scoped out the subdivisions surrounding the beach, surmising that a short walk to the beach was doable. That too, was a no-go. We both agreed that, pandemic or not, there should be some allowance for visitors. Crap on a cracker!

We finally relented and brainstormed what the course of action would be. We could head up further north to Awenda Provincial Park? That would mean a parking fee of course. Or we could head east across to Penetang? We knew from previous trips that the bike path that goes along the north shore was a great way to enjoy ourselves. The lure of a pleasant evening bike ride was too much so Penetang it was. 

We encountered more splendid scenery on the drive across, then were quite pleased to encounter Rotary Park as an easy access point to the bike path ... and loads of free parking! Our ride took us east, following past the Martyr's Memorial toward the King's Wharf Theatre Area. That area is really attractive with loads of water views, a wide variety of architecture, and some quiet little parks with beach areas. Circling back toward the truck, we decided to continue west past Rotary Park, encountering quite a unique section of the Tiny Trail. I had heard from biking friends about the "roller coaster" but I wasn't prepared for the true nature of the path. Carved right out of the forest, the path rises and falls significantly literally creating a rollercoaster ride and its resulting thrills. I'm not sure how one would navigate that section if there was a lot of bike traffic, what with it's blind corners and narrow bridges, but we were thankfully the only ones on the path at the time. We stole all of the fun!

After making our way back to the truck, it was decided that we would drive east over to one of the beautiful parks we had seen on our ride over toward the King's Wharf Theatre. Upon arriving, we discovered it was called Huronia Park, and were treated to a wonderful twilight breeze. Being later in the day, the picnic took on even more desirable qualities as we thoroughly enjoyed our cooler's wares. We stayed and enjoyed the beauty of a Georgian Bay sunset until the breezes died and the mosquitoes came looking for a donation. 

Almost as a reward for a great day, on the route home out of Penetang we encountered a "mom 'n pop" gas station that was selling for a significantly lower price than back in Barrie. Score! Great company, great scenery, great ride, great meal, and now a cheap fill up! Smiles all around!

The frustrations of Tiny Township were left far behind. 

Lemonade people ... no lemons here!

One last Central job to do!

If you've been around Barrie in the last little while, and the urge to happen along Dunlop Street past the remnants of Ol' Barrie Central, you may have found yourself turning at the new firehall and cruising along Innisfil Street ... like I did recently, on my way for some tasty treats from Fox's Bakery + Deli. As I cleared the firehall, my dear old Red Storey Field came into view, and my heart bottomed out into the seat of my bike. The state of the site where so much of Central's athletic reputation was earned was a sorry affair, overgrown with weeds and waist-high grass. The sight affected me so deeply, I had to pull off the road as a wispy tear formed in the corner of my eye.

Look, I know that I have written a lot of things about Central during the formulation of this blog, and I feel that I've accomplished the desired effect of explaining WHY those of us who spent any significant amount of time there feel a tug on our soul at the present state of things. Having stated that, if you've read the various posts in my blog, you're already aware of the place that coaching takes in my personal Central experience. Viewing what amounts to a derelict lot with my eyes, as my brain dusts off the crystal clear images of so many incredible experiences, was akin to being at the center of a Highland Games tug o' war, my core being pulled in to completely opposite directions. 

I will readily admit that BCC's time has come and gone, and that "progress" will take its toll on all of the physical aspects in the name of development. 

I was moved to the point where I felt that a photo post to Social Media was warranted. Little did I know that in the depths of my despair, a little shaft of sunlight was soon to illuminate the darkness gripping my soul. 

When I posted the photo, I got a few comments in short order from some BCC old boys. Most of them were not from my era (1977-1982) and one of them came from Sean Rawlings, a good friend of my younger brother Rob, having been a part of the prolific Sr Football teams of the late 80's. The "Red Army" as Central was know back then defeated all comers over a span of the 4 or 5 years that Sean and Rob were big parts of. Sean voiced a curiosity about the posts, expressing a desire to own a piece. The resulting conversation between Sean, Harv Garraway and myself dovetailed into a plan to investigate a rescue mission of military proportions since we assumed we might have to pull off some midnight recon.

Sean took it upon himself to reach out to the owners of the property, HIP Developments (Waterloo, ON), to see if they would be willing to allow the removal of the posts. I am pleased to tell all that the end result was not only permission, but Joel Doherty of HIP Dev would also like to use the mission as a positive spin for their image in the city. The plan has slowly begun to take shape. Harv's son-in-law has a business that would assist with the dismantling, Harv will store the posts at his local farm, and I would initiate a mini-campaign to reach out to Central alumni to garner input on who would like a piece of Central history. You should be aware that if you haven't already spoken up, you only have until September 30th to do so. We got the posts down and transported to chez Garraway and we are in the process of creating said pieces. If you're interested, click here (https://bit.ly/BCCgoalpost) to access the Google form to request a piece.

I have a sneaking suspicion that there will be a demand for the pieces. Sean, Harv and I will take some measurements, do some math, and determine the maximum number that can be salvaged. After we remove a few that will be earmarked for some VIP's like the coaches responsible for the legacy, we'll send out the word for pick up at a central Barrie location. The fine printing on what that will look like, and how we go about distributing the spoken-for pieces, will be decided once we have created all of the pieces. Right now it is scheduled for the week after Thanksgiving. Harv even got the local media to do a story on it ... https://www.barrietoday.com/rooted/red-storey-field-goal-posts-coming-down-as-barrie-central-keepsakes-2686170 ... to give everyone that would like a piece time to fill out the request.

Sadly, this final action will signal the end of my Central duties, relegating my future to the musings of my memory. You should know that the memories that are sticking are mostly positive ones. 

Go Barrie Central! Go, Fight, Win!

Update: Barrie Today's article ... https://barrie360.com/barrie-central-alumni-fragment-schools-goalposts-to-create-lasting-mementos/ 

Achieving a Metric Century!

I recently checked a pretty significant item off the Bucket List when I participated in my first Metric Century ride with a bunch of my cycling friends. In case you don't know, a Metric Century is a 100 km (minimum) ride, and while I had been churning out 70 and 80 km rides with regularity of late, stepping ... or more appropriately, riding ... across that magic 100 km threshold was a goal I set when all of this cycling obsession started. Many, many thanks to Kevin Simms, my inspiration and go-to for all things cycling, for setting up the route and the post-ride party of beers + burgers!

The photographer of the day was Doug Woods (a BNC VP) and he was kind enough to share his handiwork with the group. An avid mountain biker, Woodsy is pretty darn accomplished as a road rider too. Forming the posse was my now-regular cycling buddies of Hardy Wind and Jay Rothenburg ... this was a "walk in the park" for them ... and I was super stoked to have Sam Loucks join the fray for the first time. I'm a very lucky guy to have friends like these guys to ride with!

I will be completely honest with you that I felt I could accomplish the ride but I was trepidatious about how the final 20 km would feel, especially considering the route that Simmer had mapped out for us. We left Horseshoe Valley and did a quick detour south along the O-M #4 and across Bass Lake Rd to avoid the traffic of Horseshoe Valley Road, and then up #93 where Sam joined us in Craighurst. Ingram Road was the gateway to the traffic-calm side roads / concessions of western O-M, and we wound our way slowly north up some frickin' crazy hill climbs, eventually emptying out onto the Tiny Trail at Port McNicholl. Heading southeast along the trail toward Coldwater, we stopped for a coffee at EM's Cafe ... like so many other cycling enthusiasts ... and as luck would have it, we ran into Dr Joe Bailey (an ex Central buddy), his wife, retired teacher friend Tony Kay and his equally retired wife. The cycling community around Simcoe is a tightly knotted group! The completion of the loop found us weaving southwest through Moonstone until we found our way back to Simmer's place, falling just shy of the 100 km goal at 98.4 km, so I had to complete a few laps of the circle at Simmer's subdivision to record the full 100 km!

I freely admit that the post-ride beer tasted extra yummy, but to top it off with a beauty of a burger plus some quinoa salad a la Simmer was nearly Nirvana. Sprinkle in some hearty conversation about education, biking, and life left us all with a tremendous appreciation for being alive and well. 

Secure in the pride that I had broken through the mental barrier of riding a 100 km, the next goal was to do it solo and in one continuous ride. The opportunity to venture out into the surrounding countryside for a 4+ hour ride presented itself fairly soon after the group ride, so I donned my lycra, filled the water bottle, laced up the shoes and set off. I decided that Oro-Medonte was a better choice to brave the challenge, with its less busy side roads and concessions. I pointed north on used Old Second South to pull away from Barrie, and it soon became area that I had not ridden before, providing even more incredible beauty of the Canadian space than I had previously experienced. I knew that I would eventually need to head east and Orr Lake side road eventually became Moonstone Road leading eventually to Highway 12. I wasn't quite sure of the geography of the area so the turn south soon presented terrain more familiar as I easily navigated the ride home through Orillia and along Ridge Road. In the end it was a fantastic sense of accomplishment to complete the Metric Century on my own as my Strava app registered 105 km. 

To complete the week, I arranged to do a Buddy Ride with Hardy Wind, my now regular cycling chum, with a trip from Barrie to Creemore and back. Although the wind was strong and chilly, the gorgeous sunshine warmed our trip, resulting in a wonderful roll through Springwater and Clearview Townships. The highlight of the trip was a steaming cuppa Joe and a buttertart from Affairs Catering & Bakery! I had a Turtles variety and it was quite the delectable experience both in taste and price since Hardy treated! Yay to Hardy! I was surprised to see that Strava registered the full ride as another 100 km effort. BONUS!

It's been a pretty awesome week! Life is Good!

Age is only a number!

 

They say, "Age is is just a number", but I have to tell you all how incredibly impressed I am with the Paynter family tree. My Mother-in-Law, Pearl Foster, is 90 years young and as spry as a spring chicken. She still lives on her own in Haliburton and is one of 7 children who were raised in rural New Brunswick, amid the splendor of the temperate forests of the Canadian wilderness. Much of her childhood was spent without the things you and I take for granted these days like a vehicles, phone or hydro. Pearl, like a lot of her siblings, moved to Ontario as a young woman, married a strapping lad from Cheltonham (ON) and raised her family here. My eternal thanks to she and Jim for welcoming me into her bubble, to coin a more recent phrase, when they gave their blessings to my marriage to Joyce. Pearl is a wonderful person! And I'm not just saying that because I married her daughter!

Pearl has 2 remaining siblings, each of which have reached an age milestone that many can only dream of. My wife and I recently helped my MIL get down to Georgetown (ON) to have a visit with her almost 95-year old brother Dick. Like Pearl, Dick still lives on his own, albeit with some assistance from his amazing family, and proudly bragged about being in the same house since 1957. I will tell you that it looks incredible with a spotless interior and a well manicured yard. Dick and Pearl have a "younger" 89-year old sister named Martha who still lives in NB with her two sons Charles and Brian. Their other siblings have passed on ... John was killed in WW1, Charlie in 1996, Ruth in 2002, and Dean in 2010 ... but I still say that the Paynter's longevity is the stuff of legends.

Dick was recently labelled by his doctor as, "One of the fittest 95-year olds" she's ever met. He's got a quick wit, is incredibly generous, and stoically stubborn ... in a good way ... most of the time. At 94 3/4, he's understandably slowed down a bit, but there's still that devilish twinkle in his eye and you can immediately tell that his family is his dearest possession. 

Sadly, in this day and age of technological connection, my wife and I have allowed large chunks of time to pass between face to face reunions, but that is something that was discussed in length on the trip home and vowed to be addressed. The visit to Georgetown helped to mitigate some of that issue as the day's trip included our cousin Kevin (Dick's son) and his daughter Kelly who brought her youngest with her, 2-year old Travis. It also included our cousin Cathy (Dean's daughter). Our cousins were only too happy to share news of their families and what they were up to. As a testament to the strength of the bonds between us, Joyce and I quickly felt at home, sharing tales of our own children's escapades, bringing smiles all around.

When the inevitable end of the visit arrived, it was readily evident that the familial bonds between Dick and Pearl were as stronger than ever with small signs that the emotions of the moment were having an impact. There's a lot of love in the Paynters, and that partially explains their longevity, at least in this writer's opinion. I'm going to predict that the time between visits will be significantly shorter, and maybe we can include our own children's families to boot.

All in all, it was a pretty good day ... Life is Good!

Raising HOPE for Sick Kids ... and me!

Back in July, a cycling and teaching friend, Jay Rotherburg, sent me an invitation to participate in the Great Cycling Challenge, an annual fundraising campaign that primarily sponsors the efforts of Toronto's Sick Kid's Hospital and its fight to eradicate cancer in children. I have been consciously VERY choosy about which charity organizations I "hitch my cart to" since having a very unpleasant experience with the United Way a while back. I thought extensively about seeking donations through Social Media, centering on my own distaste of the constant barrage of pleas to help a wide array of causes, that are all worthy in their own right, yet the constant request for money grows tiresome when you have to weigh the PROs and CONs of each. Supporting everything is simply not feasible. I won't cover up the fact that this particular charity was linked to my newly minted passion for cycling, so the decision was finally made to sign up and see how it goes. 

The first task was to set some goals for both fundraising and KMs to cover, and while it may have seemed somewhat easy, it was especially tricky to set the fundraising goal ... how much was I willing to seek from my Social Media friends? After much internal conflict because I truly hate asking people to donate, I settled on a seemingly challenging goal of $500.00. The KM goal was a much easier decision since I had set a goal earlier in the summer to achieve 200 KM a week for training, and that made 800 KM logical for the month of August.

I have to tell you that once I signed up and started planning out my rides, I was a little intimidated posting the request for support on my page. I sponsored myself and was astounded to see that a few friends immediately opened their wallets. One week in and I was already halfway there. I posted an update at the end of week two, when the GCC announced a big "match the donation" campaign, and BAM! more donations came in, pushing me over my goal just more than halfway done the month. As the graphic shows, I am humbled that Sick Kid's was gifted $599.00 on my behalf! Wow! Even better, thanks to the sheer generosity of my "peeps", I was gifted that tres chic GCC cycling top!

As week one slid into week two, I had no troubles hitting my weekly KMs, and despite some technical challenges with my bike (flats, spokes, rims), I was able to ramp up the efforts. With a morning ride out into Oro-Medonte on Sunday August 23, I cruised by the 800 KM goal, but there was still a few days left in August and there was no sense in wasting the opportunity! Joyce tolerated the almost daily obsession, allowing me to chalk up 1114 kms with the final ride on August 31st.

I would have to say that the highlight of the month, from a cycling perspective, was the welcoming of a new "child" into our family ... well, a cycle-child, anyway. A friend, fellow retired teacher Steve Kelman, was selling his road bike for a sweet deal and it certainly tweaked my interest. I had already "primed the pump" with Joyce by hinting (repeatedly) that I would be looking to purchase a new bike in the spring, but this was a $3500 bike and the asking was more than 50% off. I'm sure that she knew, deep down in her heart, as I pulled out of the driveway that the Tacoma would be transporting the "baby" when it returned. Junior is a Ridley brand and the model is a Damocles. It's a carbon fibre, 22 gears, rocket of a stallion that has only served to increase my obsession ... the ridiculous facial expression say it all.

Have I told you already how well I married? See you out on the roads!

Back to school?

The weather is turning cooler, the days are growing shorter and the calendar recently ticked over to September. My heart screams, "Get organized! Plan! Gather! Get ready!" while my brain softly soothes, "Alright, that's enough already. You need to calm down. Everything's fine. We're retired, remember?" While the past 8 months have been Uber entertaining, the TRUE feeling of retirement is kicking in now that I am not prepping myself for the return to school. Staying with that stream of thought, I recently took part in a pretty awesome celebration called "To HELL with the Bell!" One full half of the infamous Central R119 crew have meandered into the sunset of retirement ... myself, Berardi, Andrews and Chestnut ... and in an effort to ensure the occasion would not go unnoticed, I was invited to take in the grandeur of Lake Kushog to properly celebrate the the first day of NOT-school. EPIC is a word that comes to mind when I think back to the camaraderie, cottaging, and comfort food that occurred. I even got the opportunity to know Andy and Fiona better, high school chums of Ron's, who hosted the hoard for "To Hell with the Bell" breakfast with Mimosas made with freshly sabred Champagne.

Gone are the nervous feelings that prompt the hour-long, middle-of-the-night stares at the bedroom ceiling as I mentally compile and crosscheck my educational To Do List. Gone are the hours spent in front of the laptop or desktop, planning then creating then uploading all of the components required for D2L for the year's courses. Gone are the hours reviewing the past few year's plans to tweak here and there, all in the name of more sound teaching practices. Gone are the hours given to the planning and organizing of all the teams that I would normally invest in everyone else's kids by coaching the sports I am so passionate about.

Let me be completely honest with you, though. I most definitely feel a void! I loved teaching and coaching because of what it did for me just as much as what I could do for kids. There's not much better in this world than the spark of energy you see when the light of understanding brightens the eye of someone struggling to understand a concept, be it academic or athletic. Be that as it may, I was acutely aware that my time to exit had come so that I could make a full contract available for one of those incredibly talented "youngsters" that I saw over the past few years.

I actively seek out information and opinion in an attempt to stay in touch with the educational system, partly because I care deeply about helping kids find their way in life, partly because I have good friends who will be returning to class this fall, and a little bit because I was planning to be active on the supply teacher list. All that I have read about what the world presently understands about C19, and its ramifications AFTER recovery, points to the prudent choice of avoiding contracting the virus. At almost 58, I fall just outside of the "danger zone" age demographic, but the real fears are those in my bubble ... my own mom who is 80 and my mother-in-law who is 90 ... and passing it on to others. Joyce and I have agreed the correct course is to press pause on the supply work until at least the end of September so we can have a realistic understanding of how the system is coping with the restart. 

The Covid-19 pandemic and all of its ramifications have left me with questions ... is this what retirement looks like? ... or is this really pandemic life? ... or is it a combination? Whichever question is the most appropriate, I will openly admit that life is pretty darn entertaining right now. All those stories and comments from teacher friends who went before me were ABSOLUTELY true! It's the ability to choose the events of the day that is the greatest gift it gives. 

Life is MOST definitely Good!

Summertime treats

If you've been reading the wide variety of posts included in this Blog, you're already well aware that Joyce and I have been working hard to change some life habits, not the least of which is being more active each day. You'll also be very aware that I have developed a love affair with my bicycle, which of course has meant that I have tried to indoctrinate Joyce. Not too long ago, we decided that we needed a break from the healthy eating rituals were have been so steadfastly observing ... a summer treat was in order!

The day was a gorgeous one. The sun was shining brightly with scant few cumulous clouds slowly drifting across the Barrie sky, and the temperature was a balmy mid 20's. We both had a day off ... well, I always have a day off with retirement ... so we thought a bike ride would be a great choice. The question, of course, was the destination. One of the wiser choices I made last summer was to purchase a saddlebag so that we could pack a lunch or snack. I even found a thermos bag that fits perfectly into the saddlebag to keep cool things cool. Considering the weather, it was agreed that a destination would have to include the lakeside so that we could enjoy the cooling waters of Lake Simcoe. 

The decision surrounding the treat would turn out to be a more difficult one ... go figure!

One of the things that we have found is a consequence of a diet routine is the notion that, when we "cheat", we need to ensure it's worth the transgression. We didn't wish to have a nibble of something that was just okay, incurring the calorie nastiness it would bring, and then feel disappointed with the choice. We both have a "sweet tooth" meaning there's a wide variety of things we would be willing to choose, but considering the day, the temperature, and the season, we were unanimous that the choice du jour would be ice cream.

The next big decision was were to purchase said ice cream?

IMHO, the best ice cream is Kawartha Lakes Dairy. For those not from this city, the Barrie version of KLD is located on the west side of the city on Anne St which, unfortunately, is not the most bike-friendly road. It was also quite a bit west of the lake, making the melting quotient a consideration. Joyce countered my KLD proposal with a Blizzard from Dairy Queen, a destination that was far more bike-friendly. Much discussion ensued and we pulled out of the driveway with the intention of hitting up DQ, but as with the best of laid plans, the destination was changed on route and we chose to stop in at the local grocer instead, mostly due to the realization that biking around the lake with a Blizzard in hand could likely be a worse melting quotient. 

As I am sure you are all aware, any grocer offers a wide selection of ice cream products, so the decisions were not yet complete. While Hagen Das was enticing, paying $6.00 for a teeny tub resulted in a furrowed brow on my part. Considering carefully the melting quotient, the price (we're retired, eh?) and the amount (we didn't want complete debauchery), it became clear that President's Choice Rocky Road was the prudent choice.

Now before you get "all judgy" on us, we were both quite fine with this choice.

With the treasure safely nestled into the thermos bag with an reusable ice pack doing its job, we enjoyed a beautiful ride along Barrie's lakefront trail, marina, Centennial Beach and the Southshore center, with the ultimate goal of the relatively unused beach at the Gables. 

For those who are not from Barrie, there's a small history lesson that is required to fully appreciate this little gem. The Gables used to be owned by Royal Victoria Hospital and, according to my dusty memories, was accessible only to employees of RVH. My father, being an orthopedic surgeon, would take us there every now and again when I was a youngster. As things slowly changed in the city, the property was sold to City Hall, undergoing a series of transformations that were mostly positive. The entrance to the Gables is marked by a beautifully carved totem on the corner of Hurst Drive and Tollendale Road. Walking (or in our case, riding) the variety of well maintained paths will lead to a quiet little park that has been wonderfully landscaped. On this particular day, we shared it's splendor with 3 other groups so social distancing was never an issue. 

I am sure we raised a few eyebrows as two "seniors" sat shoulder to shoulder and happily demolished the entire tub while enjoying the splendor of Lake Simcoe. I would attest that we were pragmatically bound to finish the contents since transporting a molten mess back home was a less than enviable choice. With our sweet tooth satisfied, We enjoyed a short reading time, with our feet in the water, under the shade of a lovely Maple. Quaint only marginally describes it.

The ride home was uneventful, unless you're Joyce, and you count having to ride up Johnson Street, but the day was officially declared a success. It really doesn't take much to leave us content these days.

I'm like a Terminator!

My little Blog vacation over the month of August 2020 has proven to be a wise choice. I was able to complete a few items on my very informal To Do List:

(1) Finish the creation of my book with the first 100 Blog posts,
(2) Participate in the Great Cycle Challenge plus vastly exceeded the goals I set for myself,
(3) Make the full transformation into a MAMIL (explanation below).
The daily routine didn't change much but the vacuum created by the absence of daily writing was so tangible that I have decided a return to the keyboard is order ... and let's be honest, I still have loads of opinions to talk about!

Navigating my little publishing venture turned out to be a bit of an escapade as it proved to be fraught with technical glitches, publisher woes, and some soul searching on what cost could best be justified for the finished product. In the end, decisions were made and the book is in production as you read. Actually collating the 100 Blog posts into a single document was as simple as copy-paste from one Word document to another, but the formatting for publishing proved to be a massive source of frustration. It turns out there are a number of businesses that exist who will publish a single copy of a book, some in the USA and some in Canada. I felt strongly that choosing a Canadian company was the prudent choice, for a lot of reasons, but the more I researched it, the more I realized that they couldn't offer the service I wished at the price point I could justify. The final choice was a company out of Arizona called the Book Patch.

Participating in the Great Cycle Challenge might seem like an easy decision ... on the surface ... but it required far more thought and contemplation since I have a strong aversion to coercing others to support causes, even worthy ones like Sick Kid's Hospital and it's crusade against childhood cancer. Joyce and I make decisions each year about the charities that we feel strongly enough about to funnel support toward, and invariably, it is a joint venture weighing the pluses and minuses of how much it touches our immediate family. We felt that the GCC checked all of the boxes plus it was centered around my newly minted passion for cycling. When it was all said and done, it proved to be an extremely rewarding experience when I was able to crush my personal distance goal (1114 km vs goal of 800 km) and deep gratitude to my friend's charitable generosity ($599 raised vs goal of $500). If you wish to know more about my GCC experience, CLICK HERE.

My personal transformation was both physical (I've lost 60 lbs to date) and attitudinal (I've embraced what I previously scorned). The physical change came in a long line of roller coaster rides (CLICK HERE) I've participated in over my 57 years on this planet. The attitudinal shift was a pleasant surprise considering my previously vocal opposition to the cycling craze that had hit many middle aged men and women over the past couple of decades. I have previously shared (CLICK HERE) that I never dreamed I would embrace cycling as my choice for exercise, but here I am, dressed in Lycra, wheeling my way around the local countryside, and loving every minute. I have truly become a MAMIL ... Middle Aged Man In Lycra! The bottoms are a necessity now that the km's have started to mount. The seemingly innocuous padding in the hind end makes a world of difference to the pain threshold of supporting my still prestigious girth atop a little perch of plastic and foam. The tops are both form (I admit I am showing off my hard work) and function (the heat management is significant) since my rides now regularly last 2-3 hours.

I've already started to amass a lengthy list of potential topics to write about, and I have to tell you that some of them spark a boyhood giggle. I think that I will aim for weekly posts this time around, partially because the point of writing is no longer tied to a timeline like the final year of teaching, and partially because the reality truly is that "Less is More" when it comes to ventures like this, at least in my opinion.

I hope that those of you that followed the previous 100 will find some entertainment and happiness in the next 100. Thanks for being interested enough to check out some of my many thoughts and opinions.