It speaks to the fact that I have no life when I volunteer to drive Jean and Becky to a Triathlon in Three Rivers on a Saturday morning at 5 AM when I could be doing so many other things. Kim and Diane rode with Judy and a few more “ladies” from Hastings were there. I know I got estrogenated (that’s an often-used word in the “Real Man’s Survival Handbook”), but when you look at the ages of the group, I’m sure it’s a mild case and I should recover fully with no lasting effects.

Actually, I had a good time and it may have stimulated my desire to get back into training and racing. My training is still on hold due to equipment failures, but the parts have been refurbished and should be as good as new in a month or so. I still say that standing around watching a race is almost as tiring as doing one. OK, OK! I exaggerate, but it is a bit grueling. It’s also hard to watch everyone else eat after the race and not steal some of the food. I’ve done too many races where I didn’t have a good day, finished late, and, by the time I got to the chow line all the food was gone. Since I didn’t pay for the race yesterday, I don’t think it’s fair for me to take the food. I know they throw a lot away, but I don’t want to eat the last of something that was in the mind of the last racer to finish and that’s what kept them going.

I lived from the time I was 5 until I was 11 at Center Park (a wide spot in the road with a church and nothing else), about 10 miles from the race site at Corey Lake. We met at a restaurant in Schoolcraft for an after-race-meal, but not before I drove past where I used to live and took a short trip down memory lane. The house burned down and another one is in its place, but I recognized the place immediately. The one-room school is gone from the corner about two city blocks away. It was bordered on two sides by Osage Orange trees, but now it’s a corn field. As I look back at the times we played eenie-eye-over, red light-green light, softball, football and tag in that schoolyard I’m reminded of a quieter, more serene lifestyle. Going to town was a really big deal and we didn’t eat in restaurants very often. When we did, I heard my first music from a juke-box (Blueberry Hill). My only exposure to drugs was taking the polio vaccine in a lump of sugar. When I hear today about young children growing up in homes with “meth labs”, I thank God I had the parents I did.

I showed the cottage Wednesday, a guy stopped by Friday asking about it while I was in the middle of brewing Fat Tire Amber Ale, and it will probably be shown to someone else tomorrow at around 10 AM. I don’t know why the mild flurry of activity but I’m not getting worked up about it. I still plan to pull it off the market and rent it out for a year or two if nothing happens by September 1st.

Just (Thinking About Nancy and Bill On Wednesday) Jack