Commitment

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cycling, diet, exercise, family, fitness, general, hockey, journalism, junior hockey, kids hockey

The people who show up for 6a workouts on weekdays aren’t special, but they are motivated.

Where I sweat, there is a core of about a dozen men and women — give or take — who make it at least four days out of five. Saturday is an optional throw in, but I understand that people with young families need to actually spend time being a dad on weekends. At my age it’s easy to forget the whirl of birthday parties, play dates, minor sports, and general hanging out that comes with that territory.

Monday to Friday has to occasionally suffer the intrusion of early meetings, GO train schedules, work travel, illness and family commitments, late business dinners, and more. No one in our group is being paid to train; everyone has to figure out a way to be there.

It’s commitment, but it’s only a commitment to yourself. No one is going to call if you don’t show up. If you sleep in and don’t train, the only one who loses is you.

Brotherhood

Today’s sermon is on brotherhood. Not among siblings, but among teammates. Usual disclaimer: bear with me.

Way back in high school I was on the basketball team. We were a bit of a rag-tag outfit.

We had the keenest coach and he knew the game well and tried his best to teach it to us, but we really didn’t have the horses to be a genuine contender.

That’s not to say we didn’t have fun. We had lots of fun and we had fast, if fleeting, friendships. Some of the greatest laughs of my life came with those guys and I still find myself chuckling out loud decades later at some of the things that happened. A couple of g-rated stories:

Training, vacation, life: All harder than they look

It’s time for my annual paean to the youth of our town. Indulge me.

The routine of the return to work is pretty much complete now — the chaotic rhythm of trains and traffic, meetings, calls, and the constant risk of a mind wandering off task for a few moments to a vacation memory (this time LAST week I was . . . )

But July in Toronto has its upsides.

Rain, rain and unlearning a decade of brain lock and muscle memory

No complaining about the rain today. After the weather we’ve had this spring, this one is for the parched farmlands that ring the populated areas of southern Ontario and keep us in fruit and veggies.

The long weekend was perfect. It was 21 degrees for two weeks in March.

Stop complaining.

And now for some short snappers . . .

Back when I was a kid in Nova Scotia, there was a show on TV called Reach for the Top.

In it, teams of four high school kids — undeniably geeks — would appear in jackets and ties or fine Sunday-best dresses and answer questions in a game-show format. The winning school was allowed to send its hockey team over to the losing school to beat up nerds. Or something.

The show always ended with what they called “Short Snappers” — hey, no jokes from the peanut gallery — in which a series of short questions were asked and answered in rapid fire fashion.

And with all that in mind, today’s format is short snappers. Or, tiny items that hope to grow up and be full blog items someday on their own.

One good call on a busy night

Well, I made one good call last night.
It had already been a long day. I’m usually at my desk before 8a and last night it was 7:15p when I got home. Laura was out to dinner with her curling team, Chris was gone for three hours (it turned out to be three and a half) of lacrosse timekeeping.
My simple mission was to feed Pad.

It’s a good thing I’m not a weatherman

As Friday postings go this will be a short one.
I would be remiss to not check in and acknowledge my truly dreadful performance in predicting the outcomes of the NHL first round series, but I never said I was smart. I only said I have an opinion.
Perhaps forecasting is best left to weather folks and economists. On second thought, scratch that.

Still crazy, after all these beers

I met a friend after work yesterday for a beer (two, actually) and it served as a reminder that I really need to do that more often. The meet-up-friends things, not the beer.
His son and Pad were lacrosse teammates for a many years and we developed a friendship that was purely seasonal. I’d hang out with him five evenings a week for three or four months and then not see him until tryouts the following April.
It was fun catching up.
Have you ever noticed that with people who are real friends it doesn’t matter how long it has been since you last saw them, you can catch up and resume regular programming in just minutes?
Still crazy, after all these years . . .