Sunday, November 9, 2014
Monday, August 25, 2014
Walking with a New Friend
"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." Camus
Making Friends becomes more difficult as you age. Your weird little patterns and habits harden, your tastes in people and things gets more ingrained, your ability to freely open up to others becomes more difficult. It is for this reason we spend time with those we are most 'at home' with. We look more for fun and comfort in our companions than we look for new and different friends. At least this is true for myself. Maybe this is why when you suffer the loss of a friend it seems harder as you get older. You have lived long enough to fully understand how precious a true friend is. And how incredibly rare they are.
The loss of my great hiking partner Rock, in July, was a big hit for me. We had hiked well over 1000 miles together, the majority of them just the 2 of us, and had grown incredibly close. When people speak of their dog's loyalty I truly understand that idea now, better than I had before I met Rock. But life is also very much about loss. The news everyday blasts horrific stories of human loss. I have lost some great people along the way as well. Part of getting older I suppose. I have buried my parents, and suffered a tragic loss of my best friend 20 years ago, so I understand how some may find it weird that a dog could mean so much to me. But he did, and it will take some time to fully heal. But I still have a need to hike, and stay in shape, and frankly sometimes I want company that isn't necessarily verbal. So only three days after saying goodbye to my Buddy we were off to the shelter to look for a pup.
Shelter visits are always hard for me. Seeing so many beautiful animals in cages just hurts. I knew when we walked in we would be leaving with a new family member. After walking up and down the gauntlet a couple of times I got physically sick and had to leave. Out in the parking lot, alone, I prayed to Rock to help me pick the right dog for our family. As tears streamed down my face I had one more talk with my boy.
"Rock Buddy, You know what I need better than anyone. Please help me."
A minute or two later our daughter Sarah showed up. I told her to go on in without me, I had already looked but I wanted her to look without my input. I waited outside another few minutes, and when I came in Sarah was with a puppy I had seen pictures of but who had been sleeping when I was inside. Now wide awake, I had a hunch we were close to deciding. And as emotional as I was that day, I was relieved to be getting some help from my family in the selection process. Our son Adam was in town visiting from Chicago, fittingly he would be home to say goodbye to Rock. It was also fun to have him with us when we made our decision. He would help us to say Welcome Home to Stella Blue :)
So I begin my hiking with my new friend. She is the opposite of my old friend in more ways than I can mention. Probably a good thing for me. She is so social for one thing. Stella wants to meet & greet the entire world. Rock had little use for that stuff. She also did not suffer the same traumas that Rock did from being born on the streets. I will open my heart once again, and my only wish is that I can come close to finding the hiking partner that I recently lost. I do have great hopes for that to happen. It is why I asked for him to help us find her, and in my mind I firmly believe that is why he woke her up for her to pick us. And although puppy training can be challenging at times, I know the friendship that can be had is worth every effort. The pain that I feel in losing my boy is a testament to how strong our love grew to be. I know I still have a lot of love to give, and pounds to lose. So now is the time to go get my backpack and go walk with my Stella Blue :)
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Solid Rock
Man Plans and G-d Laughs. It is an old Yiddish Proverb. It means that no matter what we see our future holding there is always the possibility of a hiccup, a detour, a path we did not see coming. I know this proverb to be true. After 53 years on this planet I have seen enough curve balls to be aware of this possibility. But life leads us to making plans, and my plans were to hike about 25 of our 4000 foot mountains this summer. I would lose more weight and continue my trek towards better mental and physical health. Our son Adam would be home from Chicago for 6 weeks, and he and my Buddy Rock would inspire me to conquer these challenges.
And then G-d Laughed.
I was home after a hard day at work, late May, days before Memorial Day. Doing what I loved to do at the end of a day, rubbing my buddy up. Then I noticed what felt like a small marble in his neck. Somehow I knew right away it was not good. The appointment to the vet the next week would confirm our worst fears. Sue returned home after taking him, walked into the house and burst out crying " Lymphoma". My hiking partner, only 4 years old, would be gone soon. The news hit me so hard. I had created this world where Rock & I would hike together, often just the 2 of us, and now that world was shattered. My whole family was hurt, and by family that includes anyone who has spent some time with us at our log cabin in the woods. If you came as a friend of our family you left as Rock's pack mate. The news would spread, the notes would come, a lot of folks were affected by our little rescue puppy. Anyone who walked a few miles in the woods with him grew to love and respect him. It literally was impossible not to.
The next seven weeks were hard. We would have to watch the fast moving cancer slow him down. For such a high spirited dog this was tough to see. But not for him. He would still chase his footballs, still go on some walks, albeit shorter, with me, and generally show few signs of sickness other than tiring quickly. And the swelling of his glands. He was literally jumping off the ground for football catches the night before we said goodbye. He had no quit in him. It made him my ultimate partner, and I began grieving his loss weeks before he was gone. Then a wise friend gave me some great advice.
" You need to Dog Think, like him. Stay in the moment. He is still happy & with you. Think like him."
He was right you know. Rock wasn't worried like a person would be, he wasn't cluttering his mind with thoughts of wonderful days past, or concerns of future hikes not taken. He was still Rock, still happy, still living a great day to day existence. I marveled at his spirit in the last weeks of his life, trying to capture it for my heart and my soul for eternity. Our bond was unlike any I've ever had with an animal, and frankly very few humans have gotten as close to me as he did. We could hike for hours without speech, no words were necessary anymore. He knew what he had to do and did it . Always.
Before I finish my tribute please allow me to bore you with some interesting behavioral stats from this guy. We met him at 8 weeks old, and since then:
Never went to the bathroom in our house. Never.
Never ran away from us. Never.
Never gave us 1 disciplinary issue. Never
So the time came to say goodbye. It was the first time in his existence that I would use the word docile. He was such a live wire, such a happy spirit, who had found his home in our lives, far from the dusty streets of Arkansas where it began. And he would leave a mark on me that I will be lucky to hold and cherish for all my remaining time. He was the dog that got me to care about myself again, to quit smoking, to lose 50 pounds. When no human could get me to want to do those things, this beautiful boy did. I will honor him by never smoking again, by continuing to try to improve myself. The hikes without him will not be the same. I will carry his ashes in my pack, and we will climb these mountains together. For I would not be on any of them without his steady and consistent help, and love. Rest in Peace Buddy, and Thank You.
And then G-d Laughed.
I was home after a hard day at work, late May, days before Memorial Day. Doing what I loved to do at the end of a day, rubbing my buddy up. Then I noticed what felt like a small marble in his neck. Somehow I knew right away it was not good. The appointment to the vet the next week would confirm our worst fears. Sue returned home after taking him, walked into the house and burst out crying " Lymphoma". My hiking partner, only 4 years old, would be gone soon. The news hit me so hard. I had created this world where Rock & I would hike together, often just the 2 of us, and now that world was shattered. My whole family was hurt, and by family that includes anyone who has spent some time with us at our log cabin in the woods. If you came as a friend of our family you left as Rock's pack mate. The news would spread, the notes would come, a lot of folks were affected by our little rescue puppy. Anyone who walked a few miles in the woods with him grew to love and respect him. It literally was impossible not to.
The next seven weeks were hard. We would have to watch the fast moving cancer slow him down. For such a high spirited dog this was tough to see. But not for him. He would still chase his footballs, still go on some walks, albeit shorter, with me, and generally show few signs of sickness other than tiring quickly. And the swelling of his glands. He was literally jumping off the ground for football catches the night before we said goodbye. He had no quit in him. It made him my ultimate partner, and I began grieving his loss weeks before he was gone. Then a wise friend gave me some great advice.
" You need to Dog Think, like him. Stay in the moment. He is still happy & with you. Think like him."
He was right you know. Rock wasn't worried like a person would be, he wasn't cluttering his mind with thoughts of wonderful days past, or concerns of future hikes not taken. He was still Rock, still happy, still living a great day to day existence. I marveled at his spirit in the last weeks of his life, trying to capture it for my heart and my soul for eternity. Our bond was unlike any I've ever had with an animal, and frankly very few humans have gotten as close to me as he did. We could hike for hours without speech, no words were necessary anymore. He knew what he had to do and did it . Always.
Before I finish my tribute please allow me to bore you with some interesting behavioral stats from this guy. We met him at 8 weeks old, and since then:
Never went to the bathroom in our house. Never.
Never ran away from us. Never.
Never gave us 1 disciplinary issue. Never
So the time came to say goodbye. It was the first time in his existence that I would use the word docile. He was such a live wire, such a happy spirit, who had found his home in our lives, far from the dusty streets of Arkansas where it began. And he would leave a mark on me that I will be lucky to hold and cherish for all my remaining time. He was the dog that got me to care about myself again, to quit smoking, to lose 50 pounds. When no human could get me to want to do those things, this beautiful boy did. I will honor him by never smoking again, by continuing to try to improve myself. The hikes without him will not be the same. I will carry his ashes in my pack, and we will climb these mountains together. For I would not be on any of them without his steady and consistent help, and love. Rest in Peace Buddy, and Thank You.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Putting Some Spring In My Steps
The snow just refuses to leave. April 4 and still a base of two feet in our back yard, the one with the Northern Exposure. I stare out of our kitchen window daily, looking for any signs of solid ground. Yesterday a small patch appeared, enough to make me yell for Sue to look. I am so ready to get back to what makes me grounded, simply walking on the ground, and I actually get irritable ( I know, hard to believe) when I can't hike. I understand that one can hike in the winter, and I managed a couple of wintry walks, but the amount of planning and equipment needed makes Winter Hiking a different type of affair. The main reason I shy from it has to do with my primary hiking partner, whose paws sometimes do not appreciate sub zero conditions and ice pack. It was with this pent up angst building that led me to The Pondicherry Wildlife Refuge this week. My boy Rock was turning four years old, and nothing makes him happier than a walk in the woods. For him we would wait no longer, snow or ice, we were going.
The choice of Pondicherry for the first "Spring" hike of the year was not by accident. It was at this very place last April 29th that I had drawn a line in my sand. I weighed over 330 pounds. I was not exercising or eating properly. In short, I had given up on myself. Last April saw my wife go into the hospital, and we both had to take an honest inventory of our lives. Why had I given up ? What would it take for me to start caring, and trying, again ? Like most of our personal growth & development, it takes the ability to ask ourselves tough questions, and demand honest answers, before we ever improve. I was finally asking myself tougher questions, and waiting for my head to clear enough to try to answer them with sincerity. The 3.2 flat miles of Pondicherry, an old rail bed converted into a beautiful walk, would give me some struggles that day. I was sweating profusely, but the salty drops would only serve to inspire me. The wheezing and coughing at the end was just the clear answer I needed to feel. The only line in my head thru that entire initial hike was the gravelly voiced Bob Dylan himself, seemingly singing to me personally that day. The pic below is from that fateful day.
" From the fool's gold mouthpiece the hollow horn. Plays wasted words, proves to warn. That he not busy being born is busy dying."
I saw the choice as being that simple, the answer so darn easy it was incredibly obvious. Am I Living, really Living, or just slowly Dying ?
And so it began, my journey of self improvement. I recall an old saying from The Maharishi Yogi, something to the effect of ' The greatest thing we can do for others is to improve upon one's self.' The reality is that we cannot help others without taking care of ourselves as well. I would vow to start caring about how I lived again, what I ate and how much exercise I would get. It began with short hikes, often by myself, and rarely was I not an inch or two from a heart attack. But I plodded on. And suddenly the walks became more ambitious, the peaks a little higher, the rush of adrenalin a tad greater. I was becoming hooked. And little by little the weight began to shed, my spirits lifting with every day of progress. My love of Nature had returned, my walks would start becoming learning adventures of identifying trees and plant life, of looking at paw prints, of pushing myself onto longer and more strenuous paths, not merely just completing these walks in the woods but truly Living them. Soon Sue would join me, then Sarah & Tim, and Adam when he was in from Chicago. Not only was I improving myself but for maybe the first time in my life I was inspiring others to do the same. I would get emails and phone calls from folks who were following my progressions, and perhaps because they saw someone in less than peak shape trying they saw a reason to try themselves. Those comments make me feel good, but ultimately this has been a time of selfishness for me, of focusing on myself for a bit. So when the truck pulled into Pondicherry the other day, it was a very different me that began to walk. Below I show you this year's pic, not to impress you with my leaner physique. I am more impressed with the difference in the look on my face. I am looking at someone who is now busy being born, who has no time to spend just dying. It makes every trip that I made to the gym this winter worth it.
It is with this new found optimism, this feeling that at 53 I can still enjoy Mother Nature to her fullest, that I kick off this Spring of 2014. I have many goals to accomplish, many trails to walk, many peaks to bag. All things become possible when we give ourselves a true chance. I hope that some of you might give yourselves the same chance, the opportunity to truly help others by helping yourselves. I can only speak for myself, but the past year has been truly special for me. It has given me great reasons to be excited to be alive. If you are in the neighborhood, and if the ground ever appears, I'd love to share my love of the woods with you. Until then I better be nice to Rock.
The choice of Pondicherry for the first "Spring" hike of the year was not by accident. It was at this very place last April 29th that I had drawn a line in my sand. I weighed over 330 pounds. I was not exercising or eating properly. In short, I had given up on myself. Last April saw my wife go into the hospital, and we both had to take an honest inventory of our lives. Why had I given up ? What would it take for me to start caring, and trying, again ? Like most of our personal growth & development, it takes the ability to ask ourselves tough questions, and demand honest answers, before we ever improve. I was finally asking myself tougher questions, and waiting for my head to clear enough to try to answer them with sincerity. The 3.2 flat miles of Pondicherry, an old rail bed converted into a beautiful walk, would give me some struggles that day. I was sweating profusely, but the salty drops would only serve to inspire me. The wheezing and coughing at the end was just the clear answer I needed to feel. The only line in my head thru that entire initial hike was the gravelly voiced Bob Dylan himself, seemingly singing to me personally that day. The pic below is from that fateful day.
I saw the choice as being that simple, the answer so darn easy it was incredibly obvious. Am I Living, really Living, or just slowly Dying ?
And so it began, my journey of self improvement. I recall an old saying from The Maharishi Yogi, something to the effect of ' The greatest thing we can do for others is to improve upon one's self.' The reality is that we cannot help others without taking care of ourselves as well. I would vow to start caring about how I lived again, what I ate and how much exercise I would get. It began with short hikes, often by myself, and rarely was I not an inch or two from a heart attack. But I plodded on. And suddenly the walks became more ambitious, the peaks a little higher, the rush of adrenalin a tad greater. I was becoming hooked. And little by little the weight began to shed, my spirits lifting with every day of progress. My love of Nature had returned, my walks would start becoming learning adventures of identifying trees and plant life, of looking at paw prints, of pushing myself onto longer and more strenuous paths, not merely just completing these walks in the woods but truly Living them. Soon Sue would join me, then Sarah & Tim, and Adam when he was in from Chicago. Not only was I improving myself but for maybe the first time in my life I was inspiring others to do the same. I would get emails and phone calls from folks who were following my progressions, and perhaps because they saw someone in less than peak shape trying they saw a reason to try themselves. Those comments make me feel good, but ultimately this has been a time of selfishness for me, of focusing on myself for a bit. So when the truck pulled into Pondicherry the other day, it was a very different me that began to walk. Below I show you this year's pic, not to impress you with my leaner physique. I am more impressed with the difference in the look on my face. I am looking at someone who is now busy being born, who has no time to spend just dying. It makes every trip that I made to the gym this winter worth it.
It is with this new found optimism, this feeling that at 53 I can still enjoy Mother Nature to her fullest, that I kick off this Spring of 2014. I have many goals to accomplish, many trails to walk, many peaks to bag. All things become possible when we give ourselves a true chance. I hope that some of you might give yourselves the same chance, the opportunity to truly help others by helping yourselves. I can only speak for myself, but the past year has been truly special for me. It has given me great reasons to be excited to be alive. If you are in the neighborhood, and if the ground ever appears, I'd love to share my love of the woods with you. Until then I better be nice to Rock.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
The Year of the Try-athlon
The Internet is a strange way to communicate. Facial expressions, eye contact, and body language are not part of the exchange. The words just sit on the screen, and one can only hope they are received with the intent that they were sent. It is for this reason that more serious topics probably should be handled and discussed in a different way, in a different manner. The ease of using the computer to speak cannot be denied, and the instant reach is what makes it what it is. So for lighter fare, such as my walks in the woods, Facebook and this blog have been a perfect place for me to share with friends. The weakness of communicating this way was highighted to me this past week when I posted the following as my FB status:
"off to the gym to work out with a competitive triathlete".....
Within milliseconds the entire world of Internet Phone Tag was rolling with the news that Dave was becoming a triathlete....and now I was left with the task of clearing up this misunderstanding. My dear friend Julian, an actual triathlete, was up visiting from Queens and I wanted him to show me some workout exercises at our local gym that I belong to. Of course I enjoyed a healthy laugh, or three, at the picture of me drowning in my first triathlon, or passing out from fatigue while still on the bike. And looking at the sculpted Julian, while not affecting me quite the way it does the ladies, made me respect the amount of hard work he has put into this ambition. We both enjoyed a few chuckles as I groaned from planking, and maybe in my next life I'll be ready for a triathlon.
In the store the word of my new sport had begun to spread, and quickly. Wow, Big Dave is a triathlete. As I doused this fire of falsehood as quickly as possible our friend Dorian rolled in the door. He is not just a customer but a Facebook friend as well, and he had seen my status. As I explained the whole deal he smiled, and if you know Dorian he has a smile which can light up a room. Without pause he says "Come on Dave, you are doing it. You are a true Try Athlete." At which point we both had a great laugh and moved onto our daily routines. But Dorian's words, while said in jest, were starting to have a ring in my head...that ring of truth...and I began to embrace my new title. Darn right, I am a Try Athlete. By definition, to me, it means that I am attempting to improve myself. Nothing more, nothing less. I am fairly certain it will never be more competitive for me than just that. Yet in some ways that is what makes it even more important to me.
So I begin 2014 with my new sport. I hope it takes me kayaking on rivers and hiking the highest of our mountains. Some days it may just put me on a stationary bike at the Cranmore Gym, maybe a day like today when it is 7 below zero. Frankly I am really not sure where it will take me, but I am certain of one thing. It is a lot more fun than couch sitting and getting old. And my sport of Try-athlons only requires one thing that I now know I have. Effort. And somewhere in 2013 I found my desire to improve myself. Over the last few weeks I am humbled by how many different people have told me that I had inspired them. Fat Me !! My guess is that they can relate to seeing a guy like me trying to improve. It does make me feel good to think that my taking care of myself may have encouraged someone else to do the same. With this thought in mind, and with a tip of my sweaty hat to Dorian, I am officially calling 2014.....
The Year of the Try-Athlon
"off to the gym to work out with a competitive triathlete".....
Within milliseconds the entire world of Internet Phone Tag was rolling with the news that Dave was becoming a triathlete....and now I was left with the task of clearing up this misunderstanding. My dear friend Julian, an actual triathlete, was up visiting from Queens and I wanted him to show me some workout exercises at our local gym that I belong to. Of course I enjoyed a healthy laugh, or three, at the picture of me drowning in my first triathlon, or passing out from fatigue while still on the bike. And looking at the sculpted Julian, while not affecting me quite the way it does the ladies, made me respect the amount of hard work he has put into this ambition. We both enjoyed a few chuckles as I groaned from planking, and maybe in my next life I'll be ready for a triathlon.
In the store the word of my new sport had begun to spread, and quickly. Wow, Big Dave is a triathlete. As I doused this fire of falsehood as quickly as possible our friend Dorian rolled in the door. He is not just a customer but a Facebook friend as well, and he had seen my status. As I explained the whole deal he smiled, and if you know Dorian he has a smile which can light up a room. Without pause he says "Come on Dave, you are doing it. You are a true Try Athlete." At which point we both had a great laugh and moved onto our daily routines. But Dorian's words, while said in jest, were starting to have a ring in my head...that ring of truth...and I began to embrace my new title. Darn right, I am a Try Athlete. By definition, to me, it means that I am attempting to improve myself. Nothing more, nothing less. I am fairly certain it will never be more competitive for me than just that. Yet in some ways that is what makes it even more important to me.
So I begin 2014 with my new sport. I hope it takes me kayaking on rivers and hiking the highest of our mountains. Some days it may just put me on a stationary bike at the Cranmore Gym, maybe a day like today when it is 7 below zero. Frankly I am really not sure where it will take me, but I am certain of one thing. It is a lot more fun than couch sitting and getting old. And my sport of Try-athlons only requires one thing that I now know I have. Effort. And somewhere in 2013 I found my desire to improve myself. Over the last few weeks I am humbled by how many different people have told me that I had inspired them. Fat Me !! My guess is that they can relate to seeing a guy like me trying to improve. It does make me feel good to think that my taking care of myself may have encouraged someone else to do the same. With this thought in mind, and with a tip of my sweaty hat to Dorian, I am officially calling 2014.....
The Year of the Try-Athlon
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