Ten Thousand Miles

The day I bought the bike (bottom), and 10,000 miles later (Top).

Yesterday, I passed a milestone, 10,000 miles on my motorcycle. Just under two years ago, I decided to learn to ride, and almost as soon as I started, I nearly quit.

I got thrown off the bike in day one of classes and scared the hell out of myself, and my instructors. That night I made the decision to finish the class, get my license and become a competent rider. Only then would I allow myself to quit riding IF I decided it wasn't for me. I would not let fear be the deciding factor.

Twenty one months ago I bought my bike and began riding daily. First in parking lots, then the mile and half to work, then longer. The first time on a highway above 35 mph, the wind, the speeding cars, the huge trucks, was terrifying. Now its routine.

I ride alone, I didn't have buddies or a club to ride with, so it was a few months before I felt confident enough to venture OTP. By the end of the summer I took my day trip, 200 miles. There's a special kind of courage to wonder out into the unknown alone. You have to have confidence in yourself that you can handle whatever comes your way.

I still ride every day. Every step out my door is preceded by the question: Can I ride the bike? Rain, sub freezing temps and the need to carry anything that won't fit in my backpack are usually the only things that answer that question with a "no."

Now I've done ten thousand miles! (On a bike that only saw 2,000 per year before I got it.) Riding through the steep hills and curves of the North Georgia mountains yesterday, still gave me moments of anxiety and challenge. Finding the right gear, leaning a little more, remembering to brake before the curve, NOT in it, managing front and rear brakes -- Riding take thought and purpose and skill.

But unlike two years ago, I didn't have the terror in the pit of my stomach. I knew that if I went down, I would survive. Ego, and probably body, bruised, but I could handle it, because I'd handled everything the road had thrown at me for 10,000 miles.

I give myself permission to quit riding now.

But I choose to continue anyway. Its who I am now, its a way of life for me now.

I'm also reminded now, that I'm entering my third year of riding -- The most dangerous years. Riders in their third year are the most likely to have an accident, more than cautious newbies, and far, far more than seasoned vets who continue on beyond year three.

I told myself, when I began, that I would remain cautious through this year, that I would not let hubris bring me to tragedy.

I see other riders in shorts and t-shirts, in minimal helmets, no gloves, etc. I feel the heat in the summer and think it would be great to go without a jacket, that my boots are thick and hot -- That I don't look "cool." But I also know the cost of a small mistake without protection can be huge, and that even if I do it all right, someone else might hit me, or a mechanical failure could bring me down hard.

I ride to feel alive, I do not want to die doing it... Or get maimed or crippled. I realize I always run that risk, but there's no need to multiply.

So I enter my third year of riding with a renewed sense of purpose to my riding. To get better. Be more aware, become more skillful, to push my limits more.

And I ride on.

Suches Loop and Unexpected Challenges

At Neels Gap, GA, almost finished with the Suches Loop, before I got really challenged.

Yesterday I passed 7000 miles of riding since I bought my motorcycle last year. I guess 7000 isn't really a milestone, but I did pass it while on a day trip to Suches Loop in the north Georgia mountains. The Loop is 11 miles of winding mountain roads that involves 318 curves, its sometimes called the "Georgia's Dragon's Tail."

I had the day off, and the weather was looking perfect, so I took the opportunity to drive the two hours north of Atlanta to experience the loop for my first time. I went solo, as always, I don't have any close friends in Atlanta that ride. Heading out solo on a motorcycle for any distance away from home always produces some anxiety. But it also creates a real feeling of accomplishment when you get home. 

I was a little anxious about this trip. Curves are one of the funnest parts of riding, but also can be the most challenging, especially when faced with back-to-back curves, sloping roads, blind curves around cliffs and through woods, long drop offs, narrow roads, down hill sharp curves, spots of gravel and whatever else the world wants to throw at you. Driving a bike through such roads takes focus and really test the skills of an inexperienced rider. Which is what I was looking for. 

Despite the perfect weather forecast, I did decided to take along my chaps and a rain liner for my Kevlar mesh jacket (it provides protection in a slide, but no protection from rain without a liner). It was a good call.

About 30 minutes from my destination, in the middle of nowhere, under mostly blue skies, a cloud decided to open up and dump buckets on me. Fortunately, I could see it coming about a half mile off and was able to pull off on a side road under a tree for some shelter. I pulled on my rain gear and saw blue skies ahead, so I pulled back out onto the four lane state road and continued on. 

I hate riding in rain. I avoid as much as possible. Besides just being uncomfortable, its scary. Helmets don't have windshield wipers, so visibility is impaired along with tire traction, and braking becomes far more dependent on the less powerful rear brakes. I've gotten caught out in the rain a few times, but only on city streets. The worst was in stop and go traffic, where I basically just got soaked for an hour. This was my first time riding on a highway at speed in the rain. Fortunately, traffic was light and the road was long and fairly straight.  

A few minutes later, the rain stopped and I kept riding until I was dry. Challenge faced and conquered! On to the curves!

I stopped for gas and headed into the mountains, north of Dehlonega, GA. The Appalachian Trail passes through this area. Its mostly national forest and park, lots of green trees, parting for occasional overlooks -- and LOTS of curves. 

The first stretch wasn't bad. I arrived at Two Wheels of Suches, a burger joint and camp ground for bikers only. What I didn't know was that the restaurant was only open Friday through Sunday, so I wasn't going to get the burger I had planned on. Having missed my chance for lunch in Dehlonega, I opted for a soda and candy bar from the gas station across the road and figured I'd get food after finishing the loop. There really weren't any other options. 

I headed up Wolf Pen Gap Road, the heart of the loop. This is a well maintained, if narrow, two lane road where the curves come fast, with banked roads, steep drop offs, switchbacks, steep dropping curves and lots blind curves. It was challenging, constantly managing the brakes and shifting up and down between 2nd and 3rd gear to manage speed and power as I went up hills, then engine braked on steep declines. 

One of the most critical skills of motorcycle riding is managing brakes and turning. Bikes have separate front and rear brakes, which affect the handling of the bike differently, and which must be handled differently in the event of a skid. Braking and turning both require increased traction, and tires only have so much traction to use. You cannot brake hard while turning, that's a good way to wreck. One of the cardinal rules of motorcycle riding is brake before the curve, accelerate (slightly) through the curve. Needless to say, coordinating both brakes, gears and throttle through constantly changing directions and elevations tests ones ability to keep it all upright. 

Add in the distraction of cliff faces and long drop offs, plus on coming traffic and you have another issue: Target fixation. One truism of riding is that the bike goes where you look. If you get fixed on looking at something that scares you, like an on coming car as you go around a curve, your body unconsciously tends to steer the bike toward the car... Or off the cliff, or where ever it is your mind and eyes have fixated.  This is the mental, and emotion challenge, of riding something like the Suches Loop. In my opinion, its the more critical part of the equation. You must be in control of your mind.

I'm proud to say I managed it all, including a few unexpected things, like spotting a gravel patch at the apex of a downhill set of switchbacks, which I had to navigate around at the last second while avoiding an oncoming car that was very close to the yellow line, with a drop off on my right. A scary moment, but I was impressed with how calmly and smoothly I handled it. Of course, my instant of self-congratulations was short lived because I had to immediately lean the bike the other ways and enter the next curve. Focus.

At the end of Wolf Pen Gap Road, I turned south onto Georgia 19, which is still a curvy mountain road, but wider (three lanes in some places) and most of the curves are not as intense. Following this up hill, I finally stopped at Neels Gap, the top of the mountain, for a scenic over look and to stretch my legs and hips. 

The view from Neel Gap, GA

From there, I figured it was relatively easy riding to the bottom and on to lunch. I head down through more curves. But those fluffy clouds had other plans, and I found myself looking down hill, into steep declining curves on fairly new (read "slick") black top as rain began to fall.

It was the kind of rain that you see like a curtain crossing the road ahead. Only I didn't see it until I rounded a curve and it was right there, and I didn't have time to stop. I found a spot to pull off under a tree where it seemed a little dryer to decide what to do.

Decision time: Wait it out, or make for the blue sky in the distance.

I had two choices, wait it out under the tree (which wasn't providing much protection), or brave the wet, curvy mountain roads to try to get out from under it. I could see blue sky not far away, but with all the switchback on the road, who know how far the drive actually was?

I decided to ride and face my fear. I knew the real risks were higher than on dry road, but I also knew they were not as high as my anxiety riddled brain was screaming. I had learned, and had some practice, with rain riding techniques and the roads were mostly free of other cars, so I set out.

Ten minutes or so later, I was on dry pavement that hadn't seen a drop all day. I had faced the challenge and over come it.

Challenges come in different ways in life. Riding a motorcycle, like many other things, is objectively a skill that anyone can learn. Taken in progressive steps and with practice, the skill can be mastered. But the real challenge is overcoming your fear. Your mind gets filled with images and ideas of everything that can go wrong, and you think about that, instead of what you need to do to be safe.

I chose to ride the Suches Loop to challenge my fears. I knew I was capable of riding curves. I wasn't trying to take them at full speed or prove what a bad ass I was. I just wanted to prove to myself that I had the skills and experience to take curve after curve after curve, of all variety of sizes, slopes, lengths, diameters, etc. And I did, the small fears of falling, of skidding, etc, that I feel every time I get on the bike were still there, I just had to push them down and focus on the task, like I do every time.

But the unexpected challenge of rain... That brought up a whole other level of fear. I would not have faulted myself if I decided to wait it out. It wasn't what I had set out to do, I had not mentally prepared myself for it, and it wasn't "do or die." I 'm glad I decided to face that fear, too.

There are challenges in life that we choose, like riding the Loop, and there are those life chooses for us, like riding in the rain. But a challenge is a challenge, whether we choose it or not, it is faced the same way: with courage and thought. Courage to acknowledge your fear, and thought to navigate the challenge safely.

The more challenges I set for myself in life, the more easily I find I can overcome the ones life throws at me. And that is how I create an amazing and interesting life for myself.

Passion or Security?

The other day, I saw a post on Facebook by a person a couple decades younger than me asking which was the smarter choice, as they looked for a career: One that would help build financial success for them or one that allowed them to pursue their passion? Its a questions we all face, whether we ask it or not. Given my life experiences, I offer my humble thoughts on this subject.

First, its important to recognize financial "success" is a variable goal, and not necessary mutually exclusive from pursuing ones passion. For one person financial success might mean being able to pay their bills, house, clothe and feed themselves and be relatively free from worry over basic money issues. For someone else, it might mean having more money than they can ever spend in a single life time, to have virtually nothing out of their financial reach if they choose to pursue it.

Each choice has pros and cons, but its important to determine for yourself what level of financial security you are comfortable with. What your personal financial expectations for living are will greatly determine what choices you have for following your passion. If you insist on extreme wealth, and your passion is painting watercolor landscapes, chances are you'll have to keep painting as a hobby and devote the majority of your time to pursuing money. On the other hand, if you're fine with a modest lifestyle, and your passion is analyzing markets and investing, you might find you have more money than you need.

Now, the more interesting and less academic part of the question is what is your passion? As a culture, we seem to be under the impression that we all have one thing we are passionate about, and if we just figure that out, we can build a happy life around that. There are untold numbers of self-help books and gurus devoted to helping you find your "one true calling." That belief is wrong.

Everyone has many different and varying interests, and these change throughout your life. There is no single thing that will make you happy, you have lots of options. Which ones you choose to follow will determine a lot about your life -- up to the point where you choose to follow a different one.

I'll use my life as an example. As a young child I was very creative, I built toys out of cardboard I scavenged from dumpsters, for a time I was obsessed with doing pencil drawings of geometric shapes. In my teen years, I became interested in photography, and I choose to go to school for that after high school. At this point, it looked like I would probably lead the life of a "creative." Except I had no interest in business, in book keeping and marketing and all the things I'd have to do to make a living that way.

Instead, I worked in restaurants and picked up photo jobs on the side. I was poor, but pretty content at 21, living week to week. Most people would say I wasn't going anywhere, that I'd never amount to much. But I was pursuing a passion and not that concerned about money.

Then my circumstances changed, I became a single father. Now the priorities shifted, being a parent was most important, which made money more important. I had no real skills of value and had not gotten a degree.  I had to take the jobs I could find and live in my parents' basement for a few years.

Eventually, I stumbled into a job making counter tops. Not glamorous or high paying, but good work and I enjoyed building things. That lead eventually to a job with a kitchen designer who was very supportive of me as a parent. Again, the money wasn't going to make me rich, but I was able to move my son and I out of my parents house. Most importantly, I was able to be a good father.

During this time I still did some photography, but mainly work related, not the artistic stuff I was passionate about. Designing and building things used my creative skills, and was satisfying, but the things I created where never purely my own, they were meant to fill a need for someone. In my parents basement, I tried to start a graphic arts company, but that didn't go anywhere.

I also limited my potential income early on by choosing not to work over time or weekends, because I was parent. A choice I never regretted, but it didn't make things easy. I chose passion (parenting) over finance.

Eventually, my boss retired and helped me start up my own business as a custom woodworker, simply turning the best of what I did for her, into my own business. For several years I did very well. I was good at what I did, had a reputation for quality work and for being a problem solver. My business expanded and I was able to buy a house. To some extent I was following my passion, but it also was a financial decision.

I was never very good at running the business. Just as years before, I had no interest in the business side of things, I just liked building and creating. It never grew into more than a one my operation. If I had prioritized growing the company, adding employees, and expanding, I would have probably made more money and been more secure, but I also would have had to spend less and less time doing the hands on things I enjoyed. Passion over finance.

In a perfect world, I would have been just fine doing my one-man business for a long time. But that's not the world we live in. When the Great Recession hit, it hit the housing market first and that was me. I lost everything, including my house. I was nearly 40 and starting over with nothing.

It was an extremely stressful few years of my life. It took a toll on my health and relationships. My self-esteem and confidence were shattered. I questioned a lot of my life choices. Had I chosen a more financially secure path years ago, thing might have been different for me. If I had gotten a degree, I would have had more job options when I lost my business. I considered trying to go back to school, but I had a child with college dreams of his own and now money to help him, let alone my self. Financial security looked really good and completely out of reach during that time.

I found work managing a warehouse, that didn't last. I pursued acting as a career for a time. As any cliche will tell you, actors need other jobs to support themselves. So I got back into restaurant work. I started bartending in chef-driven local restaurants and discovered I loved bartending. For the past 6 years I've been doing that, building on my successes to reach a pretty comfortable point.

There's one passion of mine I haven't talked about: Writing.

I hated school. I have always been a terrible speller. So many of my childhood memories revolve around my struggles to spell and being bullied by teachers and made fun of by kids and constantly disappointing my parents.  In high school, I did finally have a teacher take an interest in my writing and encourage me, but after school, I didn't do much.

When I had my woodworking business, I kept a blog detailing projects for people. As a bartender I also have blog that I occasionally post to, but not regularly. I always seem to want to write about things, to tell stories, to explain things (thus this very post!)

Remember my brief foray into acting? That's because I love movies. Its a serious passion of mine, one that has consumed a large part of my life for as long as I can remember. But not one I ever even considered making a career of, until I tried acting. Acting was the first time I saw how screen plays were written.

My whole life, while I spent long, quiet hours alone working on projects (wood working can be a lot of repetitive steps) my brain was always thinking, holding conversations, creating stories, coming up with interesting ideas. From time to time I had tried to write some of them in book form, but I never seemed to be able to make that work.

Screenplays on the other hand were a format that made sense to me. So I wrote a short one. Then I began trying to write a longer one. Then I gave up. Then I tried again. I gave up again. Then I tried again, this time diving into books and video seminars and podcast about writing, and I finished it. The another, then another... And I have many others in my head waiting their turn. I spend hours a week doing it, and it hasn't made me a dime. Maybe someday it will, maybe not.

Turns out writing is a passion of mine, too. Looking back, it should have been obvious from the beginning, but it took me four decades to recognize it.

How does all this relate to the initial question, passion or security? Some people think that if you work hard and save money, you can ensure financial security, which will allow you to follow your passions later. That may work out for you, but as I found out, it can all be taken away from you by circumstances out of your control.

You could get hit by a bus, the economy could collapse, you could get sued, or choose the wrong partner, your job could get outsourced. A million random things could take away years of hard work, and then you're stuck starting over, your back against the wall, with less time than before, to build your security -- And your passion postponed indefinitely. There is no guarantee.

Other people will tell you, follow your passion and it will lead to success. Will it? How many starving artist are out there? How many millions of unpublished authors are their? How many would be actors are serving tables or tending bar? How many high school athletes dream of going pro and how many actually make it?

I followed some of my passions, and some worked out, others didn't.

There simply are no sure-fire answers. What I can tell you is this: Try to find a balance. A life spent postponing the things that give you joy, the things that make hours slip by unnoticed is not a life worth enduring. The things make you feel accomplished, even before another human being knows you did it, those are the things you need in your life. If they won't bring you the financial security you want, then make time for them outside of work. If your work isn't your true passion, try to find something you can at least enjoy.

Do not neglect your financial comfort either. If you can't pay your bills, the constant stress ruins your life, your health and your relationships. I know, because I've experienced it more than once.

You may get lucking and make a fortune following one of your passions, but the odds are against it. That does not mean you can't live a fulfilling life doing something else, as long as you seek balance.

This is How I Learn... Everything

I'm sure it hasn't escaped my one reader, who ever that is, that my motorcycle is at the core of this blog. It wasn't meant to be that way, but the two came into my life at about the same time, so there it is. If this blog goes on long enough, that may change, but until then...

I've been struggling with getting my carburetor tuned properly. Since wrapping the exhaust pipes and removing the airbox, there have been issues. Mileage has decreased significantly, there has been "popping" in the exhaust when I throttle down, power at first seemed to increase, but has since declined, power does not increase smoothly as I throttle up... I could probably go on, but those are the main things.

So I've been approaching it from different directions. Trying different tuning approaches from various sources, some solved some issues, but increased others. Nothing seemed to solve them all, which proper tuning should do. I initially looked at all the issues from the perspective of how they related to the air-fuel mix, but when that continued to yield unsatisfactory results, I changed my approach.

Last week, I took one obvious symptom, the popping, and searched to see what other issues it might arise from. It turns out, it could also result from a poor seal between the cylinders and the exhaust pipes. Since I've removed the pipes several times and never replaced the gaskets (they're supposed to be replaced every time! opps!) I ordered new ones. (BTW, exhaust is closely related to the air-fuel mix, so this would be a contributing factor that needed to be fixed in order to get tuning corrected.)

They arrived today, so I set out to replaced the old ones... Only there weren't any. Apparently, I either lost them without noticing (unlikely) or the previous owner didn't replaced them when they put after-market pipes on the bike. Whatever. I put the new gaskets in, and the popping stopped. So I tuned the carburetor following the factory recommended procedure, using a new digital tachometer I also bought (my bike does not have one of its own) and got better performance immediately.

But now there's another problem... maybe. When my initial problems began, one mechanic suggested increasing the main jet size, so I did. It didn't make sense at the time, but I knew less then. Now I know that that may be the cause of my reduced fuel economy, So I have to go back, remove the carb and reinstall the smaller jet.

All this trial and error is annoying, but I realize its also the way I tend to approach and learn everything I do. I jump in, tear things apart, fuck with what's working, generally mess it up, and try to get it back into equilibrium, only different from how it started. Its messy and time consuming, and I tend to go over somethings dozens of times. But in the end, I understand them, and know things I wouldn't have if I hadn't been so messy about it.

I've never been one to just accept what I'm told, I need to know why. If I wanted to be a mechanic professionally, I would got to school for it, and dig very deep into the how and why of all these things. I'm not going pro, so the time and money for school aren't in the cards. But, I am giving myself a useful education on this particular subject, and it will be followed by another.

I did this with carpentry, with bartending, with writing, working on my car (fuel injected, not carbureted, or I'd already know this stuff), and with scores of other things in my life. If you were to study my relationships, you probably see that the numerous long and short term relationships also fall into that pattern (not on purpose, but still probably true).

This is how I learn -- by doing. By getting dirty, and making it real and tangible, not theory.

Detoxing Life

When you've been around the sun enough times, you start to notice patterns. If you're the kind of person who considers one's only life, you probably notice them in your own behavior. I certainly have begun to.

Recently, my relationship with my best friend has blown up in my face. After being inseparable for a couple years, a single incident ballooned into a seething mass of text messaged blaming me for everything from the death of Christ to the election of Trump. To which, my emotional response was to shut down and walk away.

Its not unknown to me that my friend has been quite toxic for sometime. Having faced some personal hardships over the past couple years, they turned inward with guilt and self-loathing. I have forgiven much of their behavior for sometime, but there is a limit, and when the overblown and unwarranted blame and recriminations were directed full force at me, I decided it was time to let of the friendship.

To be honest, I've felt for sometime the friendship was one sided. They were getting more out of it than I was. I was supportive and understanding and consistent in as their life spiraled out of control. While they... Well, they spiraled out of control. I was there source of stability, and I got very little in return, except this feeling of nobility for being that source when everyone else around them was everything but.

Then I began to see the bigger picture. This is something I do. Something I've done for as long as I can recall. I pick up strays. They always seem to fun, exciting, interesting people and we become great friends, or lovers (the first ones I can clearly identify where early girlfriends) and over time their neuroses come out until the  relationship become toxic and I bail.

I feel guilty about bailing, after all, we have history. More importantly, I've allowed them to become dependent on me, they count on me. I'm also an enabler. My constant forgiveness of their flaws allows them to justify their behaviors. I make them worse.

I've done this my whole life. Its a pattern that takes years to play out sometimes, so it can be hard to recognize, but now I have. I'm not really sure how to stop it, since I don't really see the signs early on, but I'm aware now.

As much as I feel guilty about leaving these people behind, I have to accept that in the end they are hurting me. They drain me, the abuse me, they take me for granted, and they occupy a place in my life that could better be filled with healthy relationships.

I like to think I never completely cut anyone out of my life, that if they got better, maybe some therapy or something, I would welcome them back. But the truth is, I don't know, because either none have exercised their demons or those who have hold a grudge against me for leaving or for being their enabler and simply don't want me around. Either way, these breaks seem to last (I'm not dead, and I'm eternally hopeful that I'm wrong, so I say "seem to".)

Now that it is done, I hope to fill the void left by healthier reciprocal relationships. I'll let you know how that goes.

My Rules for a Fulfilling LIfe

"So what do you do when you get to that point in life where you don't have anything to live for anymore. Or you feel like you have no purpose, except to go to work?"

That's the question a friend of  mine asked on Facebook the other day, and it struck me, not because I feel that way, but because I don't. In fact, I had to think really hard to remember a time when I did feel that way. Which made me wonder why I don't feel that way, because I know its a common thing for a lot of people.

Years and years ago, when I became a single father, I decided to make being present as a father my priority, over making more money to give my child a "better" life. At the time, I was struggling to survive on $250 a week with a kid. I told my employer I would not work past 5pm or on weekends. At first is was really hard, but eventually, that choice led me to work with people who supported the decision and that turned into a work life and eventually a business that supported me as a single father. 

Fatherhood was the reason I had, but I don't believe its the cause for my having the fulfilled life I do now. I used fatherhood as a socially acceptable reason to not bow to the pressure to work more and more and to make money a priority for my existence, but one does not need to be a parent to make those choices.

I joke that I have a lousy work ethic. I want to work as little as possible to have a life I enjoy, and I don't want to work now, so I can have a good life later, I want it now. Over the years, I've developed strategies and habits that have helped me create a life I truly enjoy on a daily basis. In simple terms, here's my "rules" for a happy daily life (in no particular order):

• Get a job that inspires you. Sounds simple, but it might mean giving up your career, or not doing what you studied in college, and you might not even know what that job is! But if you're job doesn't regularly satisfy you on an emotional and intellectual level, get a new one, and keep moving until you find one that does. Some times its the job itself, other times its who you work with and for, and your ideal job might not be one your partner or friends or family think is "worthy" of you. Whatever it takes, do it, because you spend a third of your time at it, so make it rewarding.
• Don't work so much. Set boundaries with your job. What those are is up to you. Choose things outside of work that are more important to you, and make it clear to your employers that those come first. For me it was my son at first. Now its my free time, and certain events I want to attend, like Burning Man. Whatever those things are for you, set firm and reasonable expectations and stick with them. It can be hard to tell your boss "no," but if they respect you, together you can figure out how to make it work (and if they don't, then find another job).
• Get your finances in order. Many people think this means earning more money to afford things (which breaks the above rule), or cutting out fun things (which makes life pointless and dull), or both. Honestly, it depends on you and your particular situation, there's no single magic bullet for this. Having debts and worrying about your bills constantly erodes your quality of life on a daily basis. If you need help with this, seek it out, there are non-profit resources available. (I will write about my solution in another post)
• Try new things. New foods, new music, new ANYTHING. Develop the habit of saying yes, and don't be afraid to admit, after you tried it, that you didn't like it. Take pleasure in discovering something you didn't like! Take pride in saying "I tried it!" instead of being the person who sits back and shakes their head. It doesn't need to be big things, everything counts. 
• Learn new things, your way. Pick something you want to learn and start. Read books, take classes, watch online videos. Whatever, just get started. Anything counts. 
• Learn to quit. This is a big one. Our culture is big on finishing and following through and "quitters never win, and winners never quit!" Its bullshit. A wise person knows when something isn't working, and changes course. If you don't like the class you're taking, stop. If you're job isn't fulfilling, look for a new one. If you always wanted to ride motorcycles, and after a ride or two decide its not what you thought it was, then stop. There is no shame in having tried and realized its not your thing. The only shame is in not having tried. This applies to relationships, too. Don't stay in one that isn't working, no matter how long you've been in it. Not everything is meant to last forever, move on.
• Be selfish. Two of the most acceptable reasons for anything you do need to be "I want to" and "I don't want to." This doesn't mean be a self-centered person, it means not to be entirely other-people-centered. Find balance, and include yourself in your choices. You have to stop viewing your life as other people might see it. In today's world, people tend to think other people's lives are amazing because of their posts on social media, and you might want your life to seems amazing to. That's living for other people. If you love sitting on the couch reading, just do that. It won't look awe inspiring on social media, but it will make you happy.
• Take care of your health. A lot of things in life feel better when you're healthy. Just waking up is better when you're healthy, because you sleep better. You don't have to go nuts with a radical diet change or get a personal trainer. Start small and make little changes that will accumulate, but do something to improve your health, whatever it is now. 
• Reflect. "A life unexamined is not worth living." Think about your experiences, you choices, how they turned out and what you can learn from them. Again, even the little things count. You will learn about yourself, and that will guide you to a more fulfilling life. 

In a nut shell, that's it. I could expand all that into a book (maybe I should!), but in essence, that's it. None of them is that difficult on their own, and chances are you already do some of them. Together they will improve your life exponentially.

The fact is, having a fulfilling life is not a difficult thing. We are built to be in love with life. We just get caught up thinking that we are supposed to be happy doing what makes other people happy, and that's not true. How boring the world would be if we all like the same things! What would we talk about? Seek out YOUR happy life, don't try to replicate someone else's.

If you're feeling like you lack direction in your life, you don't need to make a radical change. Just commit to making a small change every day.

There's a parable about a prince, who decided he would toss a pebble, every day, into the river he walked past daily. At first is seemed like nothing, and he did it. Eventually, he thought it was pointless, and he considered stopping, but his mentor convinced him to keep it up. Over time, the pebbles accumulated, into a large pile in the river, which noticeably changed the course of the river. The tiny daily effort of the prince built into a big change. That is how you build a fulfilling life from where you are, with a small consistent effort. 

Midlife San Crisis

I spent yesterday and this morning working on my motorcycle. A month or so ago I wrapped the exhaust pipes in fiberglass, the result was a change in the tuning of the bike, it didn't run as smooth and my mileage dropped from over 50 mpg to about 40. I understood why, it had to do with trapping more heat in the pipes and increasing back pressure and blah, blah, blah.

I knew I'd have to make changes to the carburetor,Yesterday I installed a velocity stack and re-jetted the carb (see post here if you want details), but by the end of the day, after about 30 miles of riding and tuning I still couldn't get it quite right. Carburetor tuning is a tricky thing, and I'd never done it before, every car I ever owned had fuel injection.

This morning, I pulled the carb off again, opened it up and changed one of the jets again. Once it was back in, it only took a few miles of riding to get it tuned right and the bike was riding like it hasn't in weeks. I took it out around town and put another 30 miles on it just for the pure joy of riding. Neighborhoods, city streets, highways, stop and go, cruising, throttle wide open, working smoothly up through the gears or full throttle, 1-2-3-4! Just riding my ride.

There's nothing quite like riding a motorcycle, especially one that's running perfectly, doubly so for one that you've been elbow deep inside to make it your own. Which is what brought me to where I am now, writing this.

When I was a kid, in the late seventies, Star Wars was a big deal for me, I owned dozens of the toys. But my fondest memories were of riding my bike down the street to the community college and scavenging cardboard from the dumpsters to build my own space ships and secret bases for my Star Wars figures. As cool as the manufactured ones seemed on TV, they never lived up to my expectations, but when I built something out of cardboard and glue, it never failed to be prefect -- at least in my eyes.

It was about that time I first heard the phrase "mid-life crisis." I was a pre-teen and it didn't mean that much to me, I just knew adults said it half jokingly when ever someone's father bought a sports car, or some other "toy."

Eventually, I came to recognize it as meaning a man, usually  in his late 40's or early 50's, who society believes is trying to relive his youth through flashy cars and younger women and generally "not acting his age." People said it behind some poor guy's back and giggled at him. Its a derogatory term, and one I've come to believe completely misses the truth for many men of every age.

Underlying the "juvenile" behavior of such men is an assumption about what they should be doing, how they should behave, and what should make them happy. Which is backed by the blanket assumption that everyone should be fulfilled and satisfied by a fairly limited set of ideals, usually career, wife, kids, house and a week or two of vacation every year -- The one-size-fits-all life path.

My life never followed that exact path, but then I never wanted it to. My life also didn't follow the path I wanted for a long time, either. At 20 I became a father, by 23 I was a single father. By the time I was 30, I owned my own growing business and was raising a school aged child on my own (not to dismiss the help and support of my family, just saying I didn't have a wife or girlfriend living with me to share the responsibilities or financial burden.) At 33 I bought a house. I had a career, a family, a house, I took a couple vacations, life was good.

But it was not fulfilling.

That's not to say I was miserable all the time, there is a lot of gray area between utter and complete misery, and blissful happiness, I liked my job, most of the time, I had a good set of friends, I had hobbies I enjoyed. But I didn't have the freedom I expected of my life when I was younger.

Having a child, particularly alone, limits your freedom, and freedom is what I wanted from life. Freedom to explore, to be creative, to try new things, go new places -- to walk away from whatever wasn't fulfilling me. You can't do that when you have a child. Sure, you can do some things, but if those aren't the things that fulfill you (and they mostly weren't) then you're stuck.

When my son left for college, I left all that behind. The house, the business, the Midwest, I walked away from it all and started over with a girl half my age in a new city. I stumbled around for a few years, broke, often unhappy, not sure where I was headed, but oddly fulfilled. Even in my misery I was fulfilled.

For the last few years I've pursued things that interest me for as long as they interest me. Sometimes I walk away from them because I loose interest, but at least I know that it wasn't for me, because I tired. I tend bar and sleep til noon, I have no drive to buy another house or have an expensive car (I love my beat up old Jeep!) I bought a motorcycle at 44 years old, I go out drinking with 20-somethings and party til dawn frequently. I usually work 3 or 4 days a week, and don't care about "career advancement" because I don't want the responsibilities, I'd rather have time to take day trips or tinker on a project in the middle of the week.

If I were 25 this kind of behavior would be expected. People would say I was getting it out of my system or sewing my oats before I settled down. At 45 many surely point and giggle and whisper "mid-life crisis," behind my back.They're wrong.

In fact, I think for most men hung with that label, its wrong. The simplified mold doesn't fit us all. I never wanted a wife and kids and career, my mother will tell you I said as much in kindergarten (I wanted to be like my Uncle Jimmy!), I might not have expressed it as clearly then, but I felt it.

The crisis in my life came when I had to fit at least part of that mold. I had to settle down into an existence I was told should fulfill me, and yet I was unfulfilled. For years -- more than a decade -- I believed there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't happy because there was some flaw in my psyche. If I could only let go of my foolish ideals, and "grow up," I could be happy.

I now believe that many men go through life equally as unfulfilled, but due to the emotional self-castration our culture forces on boys, they never even face the empty feelings they have. Some drink or do drugs, others are abusive, others quietly retreat into silence in front of the TV or spectator sports (believing they're too old to participate). They either wither and die inside, or they rage and seek escape in unhealthy ways.

Until the day comes when enough is enough and they leave part or all of it behind, seeking to find the happiness they once knew in their youth by doing the things they did in their youth. Where else would you start looking for happiness than where you last felt it?

At these times they no longer identify with the man they've tried to become, they seek a new identity, their authentic identity, the one they've been told is wrong for all their lives. And our culture calls them fools, and laughs at them for it. We laugh at them for trying to be happy -- for not finding happiness where we told them they must.

This is why I reject the idea of a mid-life crisis. Its not a crisis, its a self-rescue from a quiet, desperate crisis one has been living for years, perhaps decades.

Not everyone finds happiness in the same things, and that's ok. My happiness is not a threat or invalidation to yours. If what fulfills me doesn't fulfill you, then go find your own way, and I'll find mine. The sooner, and younger, you find the courage to walk away from things that don't fulfill you, and to admit to the world your path is different, the happier you'll be, even if its a difficult path. (This goes for men and women, by the way.)

As I cruise by on my motorcycle and flirt with that 20-something girl, you may giggle, but you shouldn't, because at least I'm trying. I may find these things don't fulfill me ultimately, or having satisfied the desire, I may move on to something else equally as funny to you, but at least I tried, and I know and don't wonder anymore.

I've been elbow deep in my own life (and will be many more times, I expect), tinkering and modifying it to fit my tastes and trying to getting it running perfectly. As fun as riding a motorcycle is, nothing compares to riding a life that fulfills you.

Anarchy in Relationships

About 7 years ago I began a relationship that, for the first time in my life, made me think "Happily ever after" could be a real option. What was different? Well, among other things, we decided to have an open or polyamorous relationship. A few years later that relationship ended, and I was devastated, but the path I had started down was one I could not go back on.

(To be honest, I've yet to see a couple who's first poly relationship survives more than a few years. I believe polyamory is the human default, but since our culture indoctrinates us to a different standard from birth, the transition back to poly is usually very difficult. Combined with that lack of support from most people, and the fact many poly people live closeted emotional lives as a result, it can be too traumatic a challenge for most relationships to deal with long term. That's my opinion.)

During that relationship we each had other partners, jealousy was sometimes an issue, and admittedly one I had more difficulty learning to deal with. She and I lived together and called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, but I never thought of any other partner as "secondary," the typical poly term for a less important partner. That kind of polyamory is called "hierarchical," which is basically a ranking system for partners. It never felt right to me. I find it degrading and humiliating.

Since that relationship, I've had several relationships of various kinds. On a couple occasions, I've been pressured to used the word girlfriend to describe a partner's status in my life, but for some reason I really disliked that. I honestly thought it was some inner voice telling me this relationship must not be as important as I think it is.

Over time, I began to develop a variety of intimate relationships that are healthy and mutually supportive. I dated one woman for a brief period and soon we realized we were incompatible as romantic and sexual partners, we both almost wrote the relationship off. But over time we have because intimate friends, she is now one of the closest friends I've ever had. We are not romantic or sexual, we are just us. But there is no doubt that our closeness is seen as a threat to most of the people either of us date now.

To someone with a monogamous agenda, who seeks to follow the "relationship escalator," a friendship as close as ours must seem to contain some type of intimacy that they think they should be entitled to because they are romantic and sexual with one of us. On the other hand, neither she nor I ever seem to feel threatened by any new romantic or sexual partners the other may have, we feel secure in our relationship with each other. Because we don't view relationships as competitive or hierarchical, there's no need for jealousy, we each get some needs fulfilled from each other, and other needs fulfilled by other people.

I have very close relationships now with a number of people that include a range of intimacy types -- emotional, romantic and sexual. None of them are the same, but each is in its own way mutually fulfilling. Though I have many intimate relationships, I still consider myself single, at least in terms of the accepted cultural norm.

I have all the things one would expect from a monogamous partner, romance, sex, emotional support, commitment, and, above all, love, in fact I have more of those things, because I get them from multiple people. Yet the term "polygamous" still didn't seem to accurately describe me, because I'm not seeking a girlfriend or wife, I'm simply open to new, fulfilling, intimate relationships, in whatever form they may take, whenever they come along.

Recently, my former girlfriend, the one I talked about in the beginning, introduced me to the term "Relationship Anarchy." Its a relatively new term in the social/romantic/sexual lexicon. It is a form of non-hierarchical polyamory, and it turns out, it much more accurately describes my relationship style.

This may seem like a small thing to some people, but to me its not. For the first twenty-three years of my dating life, I struggled to find happiness with a partner. I would meet someone, fall in love, everything would seem great. But inside I thought there was something wrong with me. Despite being totally enamored with my partner, I would meet other people I was interested in romantically or sexually. I wouldn't act on those feelings, but it felt like I was cheating myself and them. In my heart and mind it seemed arbitrary that I was supposed to not feel these feelings for one person simply because I already had them for another. Why not?

For a long time, I thought I was broken. Then I began to recognize a pattern in my life. I would meet someone, date them monogamously, and over time I would slowly become less and less fulfilled. There would be nothing wrong with the relationship, only it wasn't fulfilling me anymore. We would break up and I would be happy again, I would begin dating different people, supposedly looking for the one person I would "commit to," and the cycle would begin again. I was only happiest when I was "single" but had intimate relationships without the normal restraints monogamy puts on outside relationships.

Understanding this about myself is what eventually lead me to agree to a poly relationship (she brought it up first.) I figured it would give me the ability to develop those other intimate relationships, as I found them, with freedom, and to some extent it did (being poly, despite what most people thing, actually limits dating options dramatically, as most people are only interested in eventually having a monogamous relationship.)

Functionally, the outside world saw me as a normal guy with a girlfriend. A few people knew I had a second partner "on the side," and they assumed that my girlfriend was more important to me than my secondary partner. But they were wrong. When the second relationship ended, I was was devastated. In fact, the way in ended still bothers me now, years later. I have regrets as much about that relationship as I do with my former girlfriend.

Since then, I enter any potentially intimate relationship with a declaration that I am not monogamous, and that if the potential new partner seeks that from me, we had best remain only "friends." For a monogamous person, the status of "friend," usually has specific limitations, primarily sex, but not always, or only under specific circumstances. This is just fine for me, because I can respect other peoples boundaries, and still allow a relationship to develop organically.

By no longer identifying as poly, I also remove the idea of the potential for someone to gain the status as my "primary." That isn't how I work. All my relationships are important to me for different reasons, and none supersedes the others in all instances. Of course, since this "new" term requires some explaining to virtually everyone, it also means I have to do so with anyone who seeks to get involved with me, but in a way, I've been having that conversation for years.

All that aside, it feels pretty refreshing to know I'm not alone in my relationship style, I'm not broken or whatever. I'm just being my authentic self, finally, after many years of trying to force myself into a mold that didn't fit. Happily ever after is a reality now for me, not because I found "the one," but because I am the one, I am able to be truly myself now, and that is what makes me happy.

The Daily Scare - Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Fear

"Do something every day that scares you."

 -- Mary Schmich

 (not Eleanor Roosevelt) 

This is a lesson I've tried to apply in my life for years, but its so general, that it can be difficult to understand exactly how to employ it. For me, it took learning to ride a motorcycle to finally crystallize in my mind the best way to really do this.

When I first heard this years ago, I thought it meant doing something NEW that scared me everyday. The problem with that, is that I tended to look for big, new things I hadn't done before and that becomes difficult to keep up. Often time, big things, like skydiving for example, take a lot of time and effort to set up and follow through on. Its impossible to do something like that every day. 

This spring, I decided it was time I learned to ride a motorcycle, which is a big thing, not an every day level activity. It was something I'd long wanted to do, and had made various excuses to put it off for years. That time was over, the time to do it had come. So I signed up for an MSF class. I bought a riding jacket, complete with armor pads to protect myself, and ridding gloves. I had ankle height hiking boots, to protect my feet, so I was good to go. The class provided the helmets and motorcycles. 

The day of the class I was a little nervous, but mostly excited, and I expected to do well. I'd studied all my materials, read the course book cover to cover. I'm in good shape, generally athletic, and I got a good night's sleep. I was ready. 

The class consisted of classroom and practical riding on a closed parking lot. The classroom work was easy for me, I'd read the whole book, I knew the materials. The riding seemed easy at first, too. We started with starting the bike.

That sounds simple, but its a little more complicated than starting a car. Everything on a motorcycle comes with a higher price of failure. You're not protected by a metal cocoon with airbags and safety belts. You DO have several hundred pounds of metal and plastic between your legs capable of moving very quickly. Pop the clutch in a car and the car jumps and lurches and stalls and its embarrassing. Pop the clutch on a motorcycle and it could go rocketing off, possibly with you on it, out of control until it falls over, possible with you still on it. You could not only break the bike, bending the handle bars, scratching the paint, etc., you could hurt yourself or someone else very seriously. So you take extra steps with everything.

By the time we broke for lunch we were cruising around the lot in first gear, everything was fine. 

After lunch, things were getting more and more complicated, each skill building on the last. As we started up the bikes and moved out to line up for the next skill, I accidentally throttled the bike hard. I began to panic, but followed my instructor's first lesson, "The clutch is your friend." So I pulled the clutch. With the throttle open, the engine revved up high, screaming loudly and terrified me. The bike was still rolling, and I was panicked. I didn't think the clutch was working, so I let it out to try it again. 

Letting the clutch out with the engine racing on a 300cc sport bike is the perfect recipe for a wheelie, which is exactly what the bike did. The front wheel popped up, straight up into the air, throwing me off like a bucking bronco, and sending the bike careening forward into a fence. Fortunately, no one else was hurt. 

The incident scared the living shit out of me. My instructors nearly bounced me from the class, rightfully so. I was boarder-line, I was becoming a danger to myself and others. Nervously, I finished the day, having lost confidence in myself, I was re-thinking the entire motorcycle idea. Maybe this wasn't for me? Maybe I should stick to cars?

I showed up the next day and finished the class. Still anxious about the power of the bike, I was cautious about everything I did. I passed the written exam with a perfect score and got the lowest possible score on the practical riding exam to pass. Literally, one point lower and I would have failed. 

Humbled, I headed home. I stopped on the way home and bought a helmet. Leaving the class I wasn't sure I was going to continue riding, but spending a couple hundred dollars on a good helmet would force me to keep going. I made the decision that when I learned to ride safely and confidently, then I could quit. Buying the helmet was a commitment to that. I would prove I COULD do it, then not doing it would be a choice rather than a default.

A week or so later, new license in hand, I went to buy my first motorcycle, a used cruiser. Less powerful than the sport bike I'd learned on, but bigger. When I took it for a test ride around the owner's neighborhood, I did a similar thing to the accident in class. I lost control and ditched it in someone's front yard. No one saw me, the bike was fine, so I rode it back and bought it. 

I had a buddy drive it home a few days later. I was not ready for the 45 minutes on the highway. I'd never been out of 2nd gear before. 

Now I had a motorcycle. I'd been reading books about riding skills and safety for two weeks. I'd been listening to pod casts on the same subjects, and watching videos online.Now I had to put it into practice.

My first day out, I carefully rode it to a near by parking lot and began drilling the basic skills. Breaking, low speed cornering, clutching... Over and over and over. 

The next day, I woke up, had breakfast and headed out to do the same thing. The only road time the bike saw that first week was the mile and a half to the parking lot and back, at no more than 25 miles an hour. Then I began riding it to work and back, 2 miles each way. Then touring around town, even getting up into third gear. Every day I pushed a little harder. Every couple days I was back in a parking lot drilling skills. 

40 mph was the the next big scare. There seemed to be a big change in the amount of wind between 35 and 40. It was pushing me harder, buffeting me and bike, trying to turn me and push me off the bike. It was loud and scary. But I got used to it. 

Then I took it out on a little stretch of highway, up to 65 miles an hour! What was slow driving speed for me in my car, was terrifying on a motorcycle. I made it to my exit 3 miles down, turned off, and limped home on surface roads, too scared to go back the way I came. 

But the next day I did it again. Then again. Then again. Reaching out further and further every time, 5 miles then 10. Then came the day I was comfortable at 65, so I took it out for day trip. 220 miles round trip on highways and state roads.  By the end of the day I was exhausted from tension, but I'd also had those moments of bliss just cruising with my machine, the moments every biker rides for.

Over the course of the summer I made a point to ride every single day. My bike is 2004 model, and had 24,600 miles on it when I bought. The previous owners had put about 2000 miles a year on it. By the time I left for my end of August vacation, I had ridden all but two day since buying it and logged over 3,500 miles. More miles in a three months than that bike usually saw a year, and more than many riders ride in a year. 

I made a point to push myself every day. Not to the point of utter terror. I learned to sense my own tension, and to just touch on it a bit every ride. Maybe go a little faster, or further, maybe find a curvy road and practice riding curves. I learned to recognize when a specific skill made me nervous and increased my tension level, like entering a tight turn, the I'd head to a parking lot drill that skill over and over.

I learned to see situations that made me uncomfortable, like fast traffic, and spend a part of each ride in that situation until I got more comfortable. I learned to look for trouble, and spot potential problems and look for escape routes just in case, and practice specific skills that would help in those situations, like swerving and emergency stopping. 

Then the day came when I was riding to a friend's house. I headed up the on-ramp to the highway, twisted the throttle open, shifted up through the gears, merged into traffic, slide over a lane, then another, then another, until I was in the HOV lane, sliding past cars. Only then did I look down and see I was up to 80 mph, buffeted by wind, cruising in heavy traffic, around bends in the highway, and feeling fine. I was alert, aware, but not worried, not tense.

I had done something every day that scared me. It was the same thing, riding a motorcycle, but it was also always a different thing, a new challenge, a little faster, a little further, ride the highway, ride the curves, brake harder, turn tighter. I learned to sense my fear, and to use it as a guide. I learned to read it, to know when it was telling me "this is what you need to practice," and when it was saying, "back off, take a break."

Looking back, I've applied this approach to a lot of things in my life, but I didn't realize it. Now that I do, I can continue to apply it, in a conscious way, from now on -- Doing something every day that scares me. But I learned something else when I learned to acknowledge my fears and to be guided by them.

I learned that the feeling I got that guided me to work on my turning skills, is the same feeling I get in other situations in life, like when I need to apologize to someone when I'm mad. Well, not exactly the same, but similar. That's a fear, too, fear of being vulnerable, of admitting wrong, of setting myself up to be yelled at and shamed. Doing those things also falls under the category of "things that scare me."

Doing something that scares me everyday turns out to be easier than I thought, because every day I find things that scare me, maybe even the same thing that scared me yesterday. It doesn't have to be a big thing, or something I planned. I just need to acknowledge that I am feeling fear, anxiety, uncertainty, and then understand that feeling and figure out if its telling me to move forward and grow, or to slow down and not push too hard. 

Everyone can see the use of using fear to learn a new skill. Now I can ride a motorcycle with confidence, and I have the sense to know when I should take it easy, and when I need to practice, but the end result is easy for everyone to see. Its measurable, demonstrable. 

The other kinds of things, the little daily fears that I use to guide me now, are not so easy for others to see, but the changes following them has made in me are no less an improvement in my life and in my character. I'm more open, more forgiving, more loving, I'm friendlier. 

So I have learned to embrace my fears, to feel them, to question them, and to follow them. Every day I do something that scares me, and that is changing who I am for the better.