It finally happened!

It finally happened!

After putting 20,000+ km on my Argon18 steed since I purchased it, and more importantly my Hunt wheel set, I recently discovered that I had broken my rear rim, actually pulling 2 spokes out of the metal. I noticed about a week ago that my rear tire little wobble had advanced to a bike-inspired version of the Charleston, and I guessed with 20/20 hindsight that it was the compromised metal of the rim that was the culprit. I enjoyed a social ride with 2 buds this weekend passed and we discovered the spokes had ripped completely out of the rim when we got back to my RAV.

As you may recall, I went out for a big ride Tuesday last, and was inflicted with a rear flat coming back to the beach along the Simcoe Rail Trail, just south of Anten Mills, thanks to a wayward nail buried in the freshly resurfaced trail. It was soon after fixing the flat and getting back on the trail that I noticed the shimmy was dangerously close to the support frame making the slog through the newly regraded surfacing of the trail tough work. Showing my naivety, I reasoned that the weather gift from Ma Nature was far too valuable to waste, so I kept riding despite the pronounced shimmy, bolstered by assurances that subsequent rides would not harm my gears or frame. I was warned, however, that it could most definitely result in popping a couple of spokes, requiring a rescue run from Joyce. 

Well worth it, I reasoned.

As I mentioned, when my friends Hardy, Roelie and I returned to the parking lot, the deed was discovered as metallic shards were folded back like petals of a rose, barely containing the head of two spokes. Hardy, with all of his bike mechanic knowledge, assured me that my days of riding that particular wheel were over. Yesterday's activities included a trip to Barrie's Bikeland, the only bike shop I like that had operating hours on Mondays, where a knowledgable youngster named Chris offered a couple of solutions to make haste of my dilemma. My cycling itch was calmed with the purchase of a new rear rim that is scheduled to arrive on Wednesday or Thursday, and Chris has kept my old rigging to make for a quick set-up and swap when it arrives. All in all, only a few days out of the saddle ... of my Dark Matter that is, because you know I'll do a couple of sessions on the indoor trainer.

All of this has provoked a view of my year's stats on Strava. 

For those not in the know, Strava is a multi-tiered app that is the choice of many cyclists for tracking their training/riding. Using either the free version or the data-hungry driven paid version, the cycling community uses Strava like a trail Facebook for sharing routes, tracking KOM's (King of the Mountains), and posting segments. Being inherently frugal ... cheap ... I have opted for the free version and despite leaving a host of metrics on the table, have enjoyed perusing the available data's intoxicating lure. According to the app, I have traversed 20,855 km on my trusty Dark Matter since I first embraced cycling as a viable alternative to running following a meniscus mishap in March 2020, coincidentally the beginning of the Covid Pandemic. The first of my 29,357 all time km's were thanks to the combination of my old Legacy Compass mountain bike and Davinci Democles road bike, but the transition to the Argon18 Dark Matter gravel stallion threw the barn doors wide open to to exploration of the wonders around me, be it Simcoe County, Florida, or Guelph area.

All time, I have amassed 550 rides for the aforementioned 29,357 km's with 206,183 m climbing during my 1134 h of riding. This year I feel I have truly embraced the Bike Life with over the 420 h, resulting in 11,032 km and 2 m shy of 65,000 m climbing. That may all sound bewildering to you, but to me it represents a complete investment in myself and my health. I've written about Kevin Simms in other posts, and his role in starting me down this cycling path, and every time I am faced with raised eyebrow of incredulity, I am reminded of his words, 

"We ride to stay healthy enough that our wives won't have to wipe our bottoms when we're old and grey." For that, my darling Joyce, you are most welcome!

I would be remiss if I didn't also give credit to fellow cycling enthusiasts Hardy Wind and Jay Rothenburg, equally responsible for stoking the biking fire and being willing compatriots on so many of those wondrous social rides. It behooves me to also mention my SYGA (Simcoe York Gravel Association) riding mates for including me in their regular assaults of gravelly terrain in and around Simcoe and York regions.

Some might feel the pang of disappointment when they wear out their machinery. I choose to wear it like a medal of honour, a symbolic talisman of dogged determination and lactate-infused perseverance. The bulk of those 1100+ hours of riding have been in the company of me, myself and I as I contemplated my way through life's peaks and valleys, cycling tunes quietly caressing my eardrums, all the while bursting with gratitude for the wondrous sights I would never have experienced behind the wheel of my Tacoma or RAV. Plus, it's no secret that all this riding allows me to justify visiting the region's best bakes shops!

In no way, shape or form do I compare myself with the fictional Forest Gump, but I completely relate to the portion of his story during which, "He waas runningggg!" 

#lifeisgood #bikelife #retirementlife #livinginthemoment

Head scratchers!

I'll readily admit that life in post-retirement times is definitely less complicated with a perceived significant reduction in the number of required daily issues, but I'd like to go on the record that although the number has decreased, the complexity of each has generally increased, leaving me scratching my noggin in pure perplexity.

Head Scratcher Numero Uno surrounds my first-person experience of my brother's medical treatments. Joyce and I recently joined my SIL in a trip down to the Big Smoke to visit him at Sunnybrook because he's been in the ICU for a few days thanks to the complications his treatments have had on his health. He's dealing with a host of issues right now that are causing a pause on the final stages of his treatments, issues that individually are serious, but combined could lead to dire outcomes. Fully admitting that I am on the outside of the Health System looking in, it would seem to me that the various Doc's involved are prescribing treatments only for their part and they don't seem to be communicating, causing a profound amount of head scratching for my brother, his immediate family, and our extended family. 

If you've ever had the pleasure of meeting my brother, you'll already be astutely aware of his acerbic wit, razor-sharp sarcastic tongue, and devilishly wicked sense of humour. If not, well let's just say you've no idea of what you're missing out on. The ramifications of his treatments have resulted in an extreme amount of discomfort in things you and I take for granted, and the only way to effectively deal with them is medication. Unfortunately, that results in a fogginess that makes the confusing assortment of treatments all the more frustrating and irritating. The nurses, God love them, are bearing the blight of said confusion and even they don't seem to be hitched to the same cart. 

All of this makes our extended family anxious and concerned, brows fully furrowed, eyes squinting, cheeks raised, a look like someone is holding a small turd under our nose. Despite the noticeable, albeit gradual, improvements over the stay in hospital, we yearn for the veil to be lifted from our eyes that we might understand my brother's near future. I'll fully admit that my knowledge of the health system is very limited, and despite my profound appreciation for the compassion and empathy they have extended to my brother, I'm still perplexed.

As my mother remarked in conversation the other day, "It's incredible how much damage they inflict in an effort to save you."

Head Scratcher Numero Dos was a situation I became aware of the other day while supplying for a friend who was dealing with a death in the family. With November looming, those in the education system ... and those recently departed from ... are keenly aware that report card time is nigh, the deadline for submission only days away. For a number of years, teachers were forced to use a particular software for composing and submitting those reports to the office staff so that the report cards cold be printed for distribution. It turns out that someone higher up the "Food Chain" decided to change that software just last week, without inservice or documentation on dealing with a significantly different tool. 

Seriously? How does that happen? And why now? Perplexed only sort of explains how I feel!

My heart goes out to my education friends that are afflicted with this ridiculous scenario!

Head Scratcher Numero Tres comes from the curious minds of Ford Nation, most specifically, Stephen Lecce, our Minister of Education, and surrounds the absolute disdain he continues to show for education workers and the value they hold for the people of Ontario. Even during his first term in office, the privately educated Lecce demonstrated an apparent lack of understanding surrounding the actual goings-on in publicly funded classrooms, taking every opportunity through carefully worded misinformation and warped statistics in an effort to vilify education workers in the minds of Ontario voters, all the while deftly altering the funding model to squeeze more and more out of the education budget.

A few weeks ago, Lecce added to his already incredulous contempt by announcing $365 million dollars to fund "Catch Up" payments for children under 18, whether mainstream or special needs, payments he urges to be used to offset the damages caused by the pandemic. I say he urges because this handout has "no strings attached" and can be used for any purpose. 

"These relief payments are part of a $365 million Plan to Catch Up, which the government first announced during the throne speech in August. However, at the time, details about how this lump sum of money would be divided were sparse. This is not the first time parents have received payouts from the Ford government. Last year, parents received $400 per child aged 0 to Grade 12 while parents with children who have special needs under the age of 21 received $500." (Link here)

While on the surface this looks like well intentioned empathy for Ontario's children, it becomes an intensely perplexing head scratcher when viewed through a full-picture lens that includes knowledge that the PC's are in negotiations with Education workers, most specifically CUPE, the federation whose members include custodial staff in the SCDSB. CUPE members have been subjected to over a decade of imposed frozen or 1% contract raises that have lagged well behind the rising cost of living. The present strife between the province and CUPE will reach a crescendo this week thanks to Ford Nation ramming through new legislation the force CUPE back to work despite being in a legal strike position, thanks largely to Lecce's cronies walking away from negotiations. 

This is a slippery, slimy slope here folks.

The $365 million just given away would have more than covered the $260 million that CUPE was asking for, but to walk away from negotiations knowing that you'll simply legislate the workers back by again using the "notwithstanding" clause borders on tyranny. It's easy for those not involved to sneer in derision at the requests of education workers for better working conditions, but if the PC's can treat a well oiled machine like CUPE with such disdain, it's not really a leap of faith to see them doing the same with the Health Care workers, Emergency Services, or any other organized group. They're warping the law to suit their needs so any one can be caught in the crosshairs.

As an informed, interested voter, I find this choice of action alarming.

Look, I'm not writing and posting this to garner support for personal causes or opinions, but rather to shed light on issues that I find perplexing in hopes that anyone who chooses to read this might find it interesting enough to do some digging of their own. My hope is that if we are better informed, we can hold whichever group more accountable to act in a more common sense, compassionate manner.

Lord knows we need a little more compassion these days.

It was inevitable!

As I gather my thoughts for this piece, I am distracted by the cacophony of colour outside my window, nature's paintbrush seemingly more brilliant this fall than previous memory, and I find myself mentally retracing the events of the past few days with mild curiousity, some of it not really adding up. The good news is that Joyce and I survived the inevitable Covid-19 infection with relatively few dire consequences or repercussions. The bad news is that it happened at all.

As background, we both felt strongly that the vaccination argument held true so we willingly accepted the "jab" as often as the Ministry would allow for, Joyce's birthday allowing her to sneak in a 4th shot ahead of the government's cave-in to public pressure that allowed "young'ins" like me to get theirs. Having a somewhat thorough education in the sciences, I felt competent in understanding the mechanism behind vaccinations and how it would provide us with an immunity to severe Covid implications. Having said that, we also felt strongly that we should do all we could to decrease exposure since our nuclear family included a host of diabetics, an octogenarian, a nonagenarian, and an active cancer battle. Conscientious use of quality masks, fastidious personal hygiene, and avoidance of super-spreader events were the daily norm. 

The aforementioned inevitable collision occurred because we let our guard down after seeing so many others returning to "normal" activities, so when we found ourselves out and about with errands that required a trip to Barrie, we shrugged off our paranoia with indoor dining room settings for a treat of quality cooking from The Mexican House in the city's south end by rationalizing that we were the only patrons in the entire place. Of course, as you might have guessed, that soon changed and despite our tentative natures, we continued to enjoy a most delicious meal (you REALLY should try this place if you're a fan of Mexican). As time ebbed on with neither of us feeling even a trace of Covid-like symptoms, we surmised that we "dodged the proverbial bullet".

Bolstered by this minor success, I chose to accept an invitation to join some friends in an adult beverage at a local Barrie watering hole in celebration of some recent success, yet while the libations and snacks were most enjoyable, the arrival of a sore throat, drippy nose and dry cough a couple of days later were concrete proof that I had made a poor choice after all. You can likely guess that if I had symptoms, I was actively sharing my demise with Joyce, and she should expect her own battle soon enough.

I was feeling ashamed when I contacted my Simcoe Cycling friends with the news of my carelessness since I had spent the day before traversing gravel trails throughout Simcoe with them, but as the days proceeded, I was relieved to learn that no one had received a large enough dose from me to fall victim.

On this Heavenly Birthday of my D.O.D., I'm reminded that one of the many benefits of being my father's son was the immune system of steel that resulted from the constant exposure to a wide variety of maladies he would bring home from his daily battles in Royal Victoria Hospital. It's the only explanation I have for the fact that my mother, 3 brothers, and I rarely get ill, and when we do, it's short and quick. With this in mind, you can imagine that my Covid experience was more of the same, and I turned the corner in scant days, beset by relatively minor complications.

My wife Joyce didn't grow up with me.

When Joyce's infection finally surfaced, it blew in like a hurricane, knocking off her feet for a few days, inflicting her with triple the force of symptoms, and a nagging hack that has hung around for an annoyingly long stretch. 

Which leads me to the latest instalment of Porter's Peeves!

With Joyce's symptoms waning at a glacial pace, the inevitable loss of quality sleep began to weigh heavily on her mood, and we agreed that she needed assistance from the local pharmacist to endure. Being on a fixed income, I decided to save a few shekels by shopping at Walmart for the magic elixirs, and was only slightly put off by the lengthy lines at the checkouts. It slowly dawned on me that the reason the lines were ridiculous was due to only 2 being staffed and literal dozens of self-checkouts relatively barren. Normally, I am not shy in my criticism of conglomerates like Walmart's trend toward cutting the chaff by having us give them not only our money, but our energy and time as well, and I avoid self-checkouts like the plague. Alas, today I was in a hurry so I chose the cursed choice. As I was preparing to leave the area, I was stopped by an employee emphatically fulfilling the role of Gandalf the Grey with her grandiose, "You shall not pass" insistence on scouring my chit in what I could only guess was a contemptuous attempt to ensure I had paid for all I had. She obviously took the role seriously, comparing the bill with the few items in my hands with fervour before begrudgingly "allowing" me access to the exit. 

Seriously?

It's not enough that we have to pay exorbitant amounts for goods that have risen double digit percentages in the past few months, nor that we are herded into self-checkout lines like so many cattle awaiting the heavy hammer, but now we are treated like "guilty before proven innocent" criminals to ensure that Uncle Sam Walton's family continues to enjoy billions in profits. 

Enjoy it Walmart ... you won't enjoy my money for quite a while.

The good news is that despite all of this, Joyce and I are regaining our health and back to almost normal.

The list!

My apologies for not writing for such a lengthy period. No excuses, simply allowed my self to get gosh-darned busy with cycling, supply teaching, and refereeing over the last couple of weeks. With Thanksgiving upon us, I felt the urge to list a few things that I'm thankful for here in 2022.

The obvious choice is my extended family. 

I'm Uber thankful for my wife, Joyce ... she is my rock, my bestie, my primo persona, my everything. She keeps me grounded, humble, happy and grateful that she finds my company desirable. Besides which, she's one "Hot Mama" and I fall deeper in love with each passing day. For those that know me, you will be empathetic to her plight, my quirks and quarks are a challenge at the best of times.

I'm grateful for mom's and my MIL's continued happiness, good health and faculties. These are scary times for seniors, and I'm forever grateful that they both have escaped hindering complications, even though my mom recently shared that she has tested positive. She's not sure where she became exposed, but she's on the backside of it and didn't require help beyond some much-needed rest.

I'm thankful for my children's continued successes, health and happiness. I cannot begin to adequately express how pleased both Joyce and I are that our children have found their path in life, found partners who complete them sufficiently to foster the happiness of sharing a life together, and have embraced that ideals we so painstakingly strove to teach them as their were growing up. They both will never know the depth of pride we feel until they themselves embark on the journey of offspring, something that both Joyce and I are eager for them to experience because we've embraced our readiness to become Nana and Papa. 

Ha Ha Ha!

I'm grateful for all of my brothers, but at this time, especially grateful that my brother Rob has such a stellar team of health professionals assisting him through his trials. It is a source of great anguish to see him struggle through the rigours of his treatments, but his "no quit" attitude shines brightly through the dogged determination to beat his affliction. 

UPDATE: I'm sincerely sorry to have not included Gary and Ruth Foster, my BIL/SIL, in my original post. I'm thankful that they continue to do well, despite some health obstacles in the past, and that they were able to be with my MIL on Thanksgiving after I tested positive. They are great people and Joyce and I wish we could be with them more often, but the distance between us is significant and makes that difficult.

I'm grateful for the plethora of friends and acquaintances I have garnered along the Path of Life because they provide me with fellowship, connection, and support. Most have come through associations fostered through my passions of athletics or education, but they will never completely understand how much they mean to my overall happiness. Of course, near and dear to my heart are my relatively new cycling friends as they so willingly accepted this "Newb" into their fold, sharing their knowledge and experience willingly and generously.

Lastly, and certainly not leastly, I'm grateful to my father who inadvertantly brought home a cornucopia of infections each night when he returned home from his work at Royal Victoria Hospital "stamping our the seeds of disease". His enduring legacy, thanks to continued exposure creating immune systems of steel, culminated in the fact that my family rarely falls ill, and it takes something significant to knock us off our feet. This was never truer than this morning when my rapid antigen test indicated that my cold symptoms were actually a wretched Covid-19 variant had finally found me after all this time. Other than a drippy nose, and constantly clearing my throat, I've escaped significant complications. 

I find Social Media a bit much at times, mostly because of the negativity and vindictiveness, my primary focus of using it being the connections that can be maintained across great distances, but the flood of well wishes that have decorated the pages of Facebook and Instagram this weekend gives me those "warm fuzzies". I wish all of my connections health, happiness and peace.

We all have a list of things to be thankful for.

Let's make sure everyone on that list gets told.

Well, THAT was interesting!

Whenever I share a chat with a friend or an acquaintance about how things are going in retirement and the conversation steers toward my choice of being an active supply teacher, I get some raised eyebrows, sheepish grins, and curious head-tilts. The reality is that, while a high percentage of people are moderately curious with my choice to return to the classroom, I truly enjoy the interaction with young people through my facilitation of knowledge/skill seeking. Since my retirement in January of 2020 proceeded the pandemic-imposed conditions of the education system, my entire supply teaching experience until this school year was skewed by Barrie North, and despite thoroughly enjoying my time spent there, I recently shared the teenage-infused chaos of the House System at Elmvale DHS. To say that I had the veil lifted might be too profound, but I absolutely learned a thing or three about school-life in a smaller community school.

Think Harry Potter's Hogwarts through a rural Ontario, small town lens.

In the event that you've never experienced a House System like EDHS and its full-on, school wide, volume infused spirit-fest version, you likely wouldn't believe that today's teen would embrace conscription into radicalized expression of spirit like the scenes my old eyes witnessed recently on this day's supply duty. I can tell you that while I might have been a naysayer too, prior to the day, but I come away with a whole new understanding of EDHS's infamous school spirit. Since my supply duties included Gr 9 classes, I was asked to supervise the opening indoctrination, the chilly walk to Elmvale's Heritage Park, the wide assortment of GLO competitions, and the wrap up assembly. What my pictures and videos won't do is give you a true sense of both the bedlam and intensity of the event. 

To say that the Gr 12 leaders "drink the Koolaid" is the understatement of the year! 

The entire school ... students and teachers ... are divided into four houses represented by both colour and title, complete with a wide variety of house-specific creative cheers. The goal, from the uninitiated view, was to overpower the other houses with both enthusiasm and volume, all in a quest for the much sought after house points that would accumulate throughout the year, and eventually crown the winning house. 

It was certainly an eye-opener! 

The ear-splitting volume of the house cheers was enough to send sensitive folk scrambling for ear plugs, the strained vocal cords of the leaders crackling under the days exertion, but there was absolutely no lack of enthusiasm! 

I would estimate that over half of the staff were actively supporting their house, as well. 

The day's weather half-heartedly cooperated with patches of welcomed sunshine to scare away the chill from the wet and mucky games, but it was difficult to detect the rosiness of cheeks or the blue-tinted lips beneath the caked on layers of paint, pancake mix, and soap bubbles that so many participants chose to inflict upon themselves. Although pre-warned about the dishevelled possibilities, participation in the activities was 100% voluntary. The carnage was significant enough to prompt my concern for the mental health of both custodians and bus drivers and the mess that they would have to deal with after the fact.

The best news of the day was shared by a friend on staff! "If you think this is pretty nifty," she warned, "then make sure you accept a job on the Friday before the Elmvale Fall Fair!" Apparently, the day's action was merely a warm up for the parade that would feature the four house-created floats, appreciated and cheered for by the townsfolk as they supported their house from EDHS day's gone by.

Even if I'm not working that day, I think I'll drop by. 

WOW!

The year that flew by

September 25th, 2022, is only around the corner, and I can't believe that almost 365 days have passed so quickly. It seems like just a few days ago that our beautiful daughter hitched her life's cart to her Boo, Chris Cove, on the shores of Eagle Lake in a stunner of a day complete with storybook cloud cover that produced sun beams that reflected on the gentle waves. As our oldest, she broke the seal for our experience as parents of the bride/groom, and I can vividly recall the overwhelming sense of pride enveloping my soul as she gazed deeply into her soon-to-be-hubby's eyes as she promised him her everything for the rest of their lives.

I didn't understand other parents when they described their heightened emotions in response to their child's weddings, thinking it was the stuff of hyperbole or exaggeration, but I must confess I'm a card-carrying member of that club now as their pending anniversary conjures up the plethora of memories from that weekend in 2021.

I gotta admit, I still get a little teary.

So much has happened in the last 12 months since the wedding that it's hard to know where to start. We've experienced most of what our adopted city of Guelph had to offer, we've bought our first condo, we've squeezed as much Wasaga exploration as possible into a single summer, we've seen Maddi + Chris navigate the honeymoon phase of their wedding, we've celebrated our son Keaton's blossoming relationship with Jessica as they took the plunge to share their lives together under the same roof, and we've dealt with a host of issues and events in our extended family. 

Even thought the official date is September 25th, our now conjoined families decided to mark the occasion this past weekend, returning to the "scene of the crime" on the shores of Eagle Lake thanks to the continuing incredible generosity of the Cove family. If you recall, the Cove-Porter nuptials were on the sands of the Cove cottage beach. Despite the Doom 'n Gloom of a mid-September forecast, the weekend's weather trumped the naysayers, offering glorious conditions that permitted a very cottage-like array of activities, "miles of smiles" erupting on our group's faces. One of the many highlights of the weekend was the latest Cove family purchase, their intention to add to the amazing ambience of their abode with a weekend long bonfire lit in the brand spanking new smokeless and deck-friendly fire pit. What is it about the dancing flames of an open flame that is so mesmerizing? Enhanced by an endless supply of snacks and treats, a host of frosty adult beverages, and boat-loads (pun intended) of catch-me-up banter, the weekend was memorable, to say the least.

After arriving fashionably late in the mid-morning, Saturday afternoon featured a host of recreational activities! The ladies took to the kayaks for a paddle through the wind-protected channel into the next lake. The 3 generations of Cove gentlemen took to the waters of Eagle Lake, taking advantage of the stiff northwesterly winds for a lovely sail, and this old fart hopped on to his Dark Matter for a 55 km spin around the Haliburton Highlands. I'd wager that all came away with a deep sense of satisfaction. 

We had agreed that the feature dinner would be a cooperative affair and when all of the pieces were placed on the dinner table, the salivation began in earnest. BBQ steak, fresh corn on the cob, twice-baked potatoes, and Greek salad, all in quantities so aplenty that all were reminded to save room for Maddi's dessert creation. I'm not at all confident that everyone listened, judging by the remarks of satiation afterward.

The icing on the dinner's cake, LITERALLY, was the stupendous anniversary cake created by the talented hands of my daughter, featuring a pecan + pretzel praline base supporting a sublimely moist cake and smothered in Italian butter creme icing. A whopping 3 tiers high, slices of her creation peaked over the edges of the plate and sent tastebuds into a dizzying whirl of delight. Like so many times before, all in attendance raved about her abilities and urged her yet again to consider turning PRO. While not atop the list of why he loves her so, Chris is definitely appreciative of Maddi's loving creations. 

Didn't he choose well?

If you're going to dive headlong into a weekend of gluttonous celebrations, you can't neglect the brunch, and I'm thrilled to reveal that it was a glorious mix of Canadian staples with eggs made to order, strip bacon, back bacon, fried tomatoes, and fresh fruit, but the over-the-top decadence was with bacon-fried cheese bread, an English delicacy so I was told. If you've never been treated to this heavenly treat, you really must do yourself a proper.

Our most sincere thanks to Tony & Cheryl Cove for sharing so willingly!

Of course, no trip to Haliburton Highlands would be complete without a visit with my MIL Pearl, and as such, featured her desire to feed us. Despite our feeble attempts to recount the wide assortment of treats the weekend already offered, we shared her famous lasagna and fresh tea biscuits. The ride home Sunday night saw us lean the seats back a little to release some of the pressure created by sitting. HaHa!

A quick reflection of the previous 48 hours events gave us the "warm fuzzies" for Maddi + Chris. What a wonderful way to celebrate a first anniversary! 

Eternal love and hugs to Maddi & Chris!

E=MC2

"Energy," stated Einstein in 1907, "cannot be created or destroyed; It can only be changed from one form to another."My recent experiences reinforced that this is absolutely true, in multiple instances.

The last days of summer faded quietly into the past, and with it went the frenetic energy of tourism at Wasaga Beach, the world's longest freshwater beach. The end of traditional vacation time signals the reformation of that frenetic energy in the form of another school year start. I was asked by my former colleagues at BNC to come in on the opening week to assist with the bedlam that ensued from cramming another 300 students inside its walls, as the roll increased from just under 1200 to over 1500. Just walking through the front door you could feel the impact of those billions of atoms zooming chaotically, the cacophony of frenzied voices crashed like waves against my eardrums as hundreds of excited teens reacquainted and reconnected. If you haven't experienced the vivacity and zest of a school year start, you would be incredulous of it's electrical pulse.

Sticking with my energy theme, I truly and wholly believe that this swelling population at BNC is a direct consequence of the outstanding quality of teachers who toil each day trying to, "stamp out the seeds of ignorance" with their tremendous caring, empathic energy wrapped up inside a competency burrito. I am continually in awe of the creativity and dedication of my former colleagues as their smiles and twinkling eyes betray their love of their vocation. There is a saying that, paraphrased, says, "You become the people you surround yourself with" and from the top down, BNC is a shining example of that.

My metamorphosis into pure bred Border Collie came to fruition as my first-week duties included herding stragglers into class, corralling AWOL'ers back into class, and lending an empathetic ear to hoards of lost niners as they frantically searched for their new classrooms. In between the laps of the halls, I assisted in the Student Success room eradicating frustrations and unveiling understanding! The energy of the room was abundant in a plethora of forms!

I've said it many, many times in my conversations over the 2.5 years of my retirement, I LOVE TEACHING, it's education that I escaped from, and that's why I still supply teach.

My love affair with cycling is certainly not a secret, and although I dearly love expending energy in a solo effort amidst the astute beauty of Simcoe's wondrous offerings, I hold social rides near and dear for the sheer glory of a group of like-minded crazies zooming around her gnarly trails and gravelly concessions. Training alone certainly challenges my energy stores, like when I recently solo'd the 175 km's of the Simcoe County Rail Trail, but when you share a hilly hump like the route I conquered with some cycling buddies that included climbing the escarpment 3 different times, let's agree that the humongous energy cost is mitigated by the collective buzz of brotherhood. Likely exposing my lunacy, I chose to add a ride from Wasaga to our meeting place in Stayner that day, both before and after that 95 km roller coaster ride my biking idol and good friend Kevin Simms had concocted. In a cloaked effort to challenge our energy systems, he had us ascend almost 1300 m of total elevation as the route took us south past Creemore, west around Singhampton, and back to Stayner. The icing on the day's cake was dipping my dusty, salt-encrusted, weary corpse into Georgian Bay's waters after cycling back to Wasaga, proud of the day's stats: 

139.36 km,
1591 m,
6:06.16 of riding time,
1 Frosty pint of Creemore lager,

1 gargantuan tomato/bell pepper soup at Mylar+Loretta's in Singhampton,
1/2 can of recovery of salt+vinegar Pringles,

15 minutes soak in the cooling expanse of G Bay.

In support of Einstein, the copious energy ingested was equal to the sweaty energy expended as I slogged up those 3 gravelly ascents. The energy required for the banter, chirps, belly laughs, and congratulatory fist-bumps came from the stores of jiggly energy I brought with me from home, hidden under my skin.

Way, way back in the 'Stone Ages', a younger version of the infamous BCC science teacher Bio Bob taught me about the relationship between light wavelengths and colour, a lesson that has recently percolated to the retrievable surface of my grey matter as Joyce and I regularly drink in the incredible spectacle that Wasaga offers each night that we venture to the shores to sneak a peak. I now see the energy relationships that exist all around us between the natural world and our senses, flowing this way and that. We have been gifted some nigh kaleidoscopic vistas, a wide swath of colour continuums illuminating the western sky as Mother Earth signals the end of another glorious day in paradise. Some have claimed, "If you've seen one sunset, you seen them all." but I say unto you that just like snowflakes, not all sunsets are the same, and I feel confident in my assertion after witnessing dozens since we established roots here in Wasaga.

Yep, Einstein was bang on. 

Energy is changing faster than a chameleon in a Holi celebration (CLICK), but the amount is as constant as death and taxes. Even with my science background and many years on this planet, I am continually astounded by the gloriousness around me on a daily basis.

#lifeisgood