Prince of Pop

He made me cry. He’s 4.

These are two songs that I’m familiar with only because I’m human. In 2018 they are arguably still two of the most popular songs being played. Everywhere. Thought they are both many years old at this point.

Ellis loves both of these songs. I know they have dance parties at his PreK and that’s clearly where he hears them enough to memorize them. He can’t help sing and dance and then gets embarrassed when I see him singing and dancing. It’s funny.

For some reason today it hit me. Hard.

Shake it Off and Happy. Simple pop melodies. Yet some of the key challenges we all face. That HE will face throughout his life. There’s so much ahead of him.

All of the tribulations the hurt. The poor decisions. The anguish. Misunderstandings. All of the things we do to try to be happy. The things we can’t seem to shake off.

This lil boy has it figured out. Not really. But the message resonates in him. Today, as I sat and ate a slice of pizza it passed through him on to me… bringing me to tears. You know the kind that just trickle down and all you can do is breathe?

My sons teach me things I didn’t know I needed to know. They produce a feeling in me that I can never shake of. A feeling beyond being happy.

How to fly

What does it mean to be human. How do we know each other and more importantly how do we know ourselves. What we are capable of? Our paths?

After reading this book many years ago I started to formulate that we don’t. We never know.

We just live. Guess. Push. Believe and have faith that what we are doing will serve our soul.

Forget what others believe. Follow what your soul says.

The book was published in 2003. I read it in 2005 and have followed Graeme Obree in the news and media. From what I know the guy has been through a lot. He has been praised, honored, broken, vilified and everything in between.

He’s a pretty unique character in the world of cycling and in many ways has been one of my cycling inspirations. He’s stuck to his troubled soul despite the naysayers.

In 2018 through science and tech the champion, genius, innovator, hero was quantified:


I’ve been slacking. Lazy. Procrastinating. Lollygagging. But worst of all- Half Steppin!

Sure, life has gotten busy. Family needs always come first. My boys social schedule comes 2nd (having mean, unpopular, antisocial and downright horrible children may have its benefits 🤔). Life will ALWAYS be busy. I’ve been busy since I was 11. I cannot think of a time where I had nothing to do.

Nope… not once.

So, here’s to not being a lump and getting back on the bike!

No more slack

I have no excuses. Skratch Labs keeps me hydrated. GoPro is my eye on the ground!


The Universal Solvent?

As a kid I remember hearing this uttered for the first time probably around 4th or 5th grade. I’ve always had a fondness for science. Not a love mind you but more than a like. Maybe a “mild appreciation”? I enjoy how wrong science is willing to be (sometimes). There are these rule. These foundational understandings that whole societies are built upon. Then, some years later, a person (or persons) come through with a revolutionary thought totally negating hundreds of years, and millions of individual perceptions and understandings. There’s something so humbling about that. It is SOOOOOOO serious yet knows that it can be swayed, discounted, debunked or dismissed.

Why wouldn’t water be at the top of the food chain? It can seep into anything, transform anything, dissolve just about anything. All living organisms need it. Life as we know it is nothing without it. Though my feeling lately, it’s not water that is the “universal” solvent.

It is time.

Where there is no water there is time. No light… still time. Where there is pain there is time. Where there is ignorance, doubt, healing, desire- time. Time is a universal and most valuable currency.

Time affects and changes all.

It is indeed working against us yet on our side. Both at the same…

Something old, something blue

If you’ve noticed or not I have a connection with the color blue. People ask “what’ your favorite color” and of course I say blue but it’s more than that. Having a “favorite” denotes that one would likely have gone through a series of choices and come to the reasonable conclusion that this is the one you like. For me, there’s really not much of a choice.

I have come to accept this fact and have lived my life accordingly. Just about everything I own has a hint of blue or I have a blue version of it.

One of my bikes:

Another one of my bikes: (Yes…that says Blue. There is indeed a bike company named Blue that, ironically, makes bikes of other colors)

One of my favorite albums:

I work by the water:

I’m usually not the person to ask many questions. I’m pretty accepting of things. When you feel something you feel it. The color resonates with me. It puts me in a mood. Grabs my attention. It really is a chemical reaction or some type of neurological response in my synapses. Clearly by the previous statement I am not a doctor but I know there is something going on up there.

This door always grabs my attention when I walk by. Most days I just stop and stare (oh man… Maybe I should stop. The people that live there may be freaked out).

Big things. Small things. All things.

My apparent on Walnut Street in Philly, Circa 2000:

At this stage in my life I decided to ask myself why. Why is my favorite color blue?

As far back as I can remember my first memory of the color blue was the blue frame on one of those spring suspended rocking horses.

I’m glad I still have my limbs

Nah I don’t think that thing really solidified my connection. Primarily because when I think about those things I don’t feel anything. Nothing remotely close to that feeling that resonates with me.

Using this, most likely incorrect and rudimentary methodology, points me to something that does resonate. Something that does evoke a similar feeling and connection to the memories and experiences associated to it.

Yup… The Blue Angels.

Recently the family went to the National Air and Space Museum.

Like any red blooded Americans we stopped at the gift shop. After much debate and many tears my youngest walked out with this:

A small blue angel pullback jet. And then it hit me. My grandfather used to take me to see the blue angels. He also used to take me to a small airstrip in Pennsylvania on Saturday afternoons in the summer. We would just sit there in the grass, look at the sky and watch the planes land. His dream was for me to be a pilot.

I remember laying on my back just staring up at the sky for hours and hours on end. I was young, probably about five or six but I’m pretty sure it had this impact on me. As soon as I took a few minutes and stared at my boy playing with his airplane at home it hit me. One of the first toys I can remember was a blowup Blue Angels airplane that my grandfather got me from an airshow at the Willow Grove Naval Air Force Base. It was cheap plastic tethered to an even cheaper wooden stick. At some point my grandfather tied it to my ceiling.

I had it for years. Many years. In some ways, it left such an imprint that it never left.

You know what… I could be wrong. It could be something in my DNA or maybe I was socialized into the boy/masculine norm we all know so well. Maybe. But that Blue Angels explanation feels right so I’ll stick with it.