Batting 333

Dear Blog Reader

I hope that this finds you doing well. Winter has arrived in Hoosier land. The temperature is supposed to dip its toe below the zero mark tonight. I suppose that I will not be riding my bike outside tomorrow morning. Zero with a 17 mph head wind would make for some pretty frosty toes and fingers. Every time the temperature dips towards the nether regions of below zero, I teleport back in time to 1990. My father had passed the summer before and I had come back to the farm for a weekend to help with the milking of the cows; giving others who had thrown themselves into the breech for the Sharritt's a break.

On Saturday morning at 5:00 a.m., the temperature had fallen to 15 degrees below zero. Walking through the barn, the harsh incandescent light bulbs cutting through the steam rising from the cow's breath to the low roof of the barn; on its way to adding to the frosting of spider webs from the prior summer. The animals were chuffing as I extolled the virtues of getting at it for another day. As they would stand, they would take their morning constitutional; releasing a semi solid cow flop that would soon turn into a frozen solid ankle twister in the freezing barn at it too released its steamy breath to rise and cling to the strands of blown spider webs. The morning was without wind or clouds. The stars shining like jewels with no competition from the moon which must have decided to vacate the hemisphere for warmer a climate to the south. Outside the barn the ground was covered with snow, that would creak as you walked through it with feet layered in insulated socks, and muck boots that were not up to the task of retaining warmth in such frozen conditions.

As I am transported through that scene once again, I remember thinking two things. First, this is a dangerous kind of cold. Cold that desires to enter your nose and throat deep into your lungs with the desire to freeze your lungs in its cold embrace. These temperatures could kill a person. If I weren't careful or at least cognizant of my surroundings and what I was doing, the forces of nature would kill me. Second, I thought, "it is 47 degrees below freezing. I have always felt that freezing is the point where it is officially cold. I can run to the mailbox in a sweatshirt and sock feet above 32 degrees, but at that point, I take the time to put on a coat and real shoes. But 47 degrees below freezing is COLD. If the temperature was 47 degrees above freezing, I would be close to sweating at a balmy 79 degrees. My oh my, 79 degrees on a sun soaked beach with the deep blue ocean waves gently breaking against the shore.

So I won't be riding on a bright sunny blue sky'ed Monday morning. It will be a morning off on a 5000 mile 2016 road trip. As you may have recalled from a late 2015 entry and the Sharritt Christmas letter, I managed to ride 5001 miles in the year of our Lord 2015. A cold day in January is a fine time to sit beside an electric space heater and reflect on the attained resolutions of 2015 and those unsuccessfully chased. 5001 miles is a long way for me. Although there is a man from Florida who wanted to break the record of riding 75,065 miles in a year. Yes, that is correct 75,065 in 365 days. That is more than 205 miles a day. Which means in order to pay for my resting in a comfy chair by this sunny window, I would have to ride 410 miles tomorrow. It is mind boggling.

The story written up in Bicycling Magazine tells of the rider's dog days in July when he and his wife were suffering the doubts of assailing such a lofty pursuit. There were days when he could only ride 160 miles. That's right on his worst days he was riding as many miles as I can ride on my best day. I know because I once road 160 miles across Indiana in one day a couple of summers ago. It nearly killed me. I remember it with such fondness that I have convinced the lovely Miss Grace to ride the same ride this summer on a tandem bike.

No my goals were much more sedate. Last January, I wanted to ride 5000 miles in one year. I had an ace up my sleeve. I knew that in July I would be riding 480 miles across the great state of Iowa in one week. That would jump the distance curve. 10% of the total goal in one week. That makes it easy peasy. And so I road. Everyday making a most careful count of my rides; doing my best to come close to the 100 mile a week average that I needed to maintain. As the calendar turned from October to November, I knew that I had to pick up the pace. A blistering 150 miles during Thanksgiving week, with the extra days off from work, put me over the top and let me coast home with 360 miles in December.

However, as the daylight grew shorter and the weather worse there were some doubts on the horizon. I was telling the lovely and supportive Miss Beverly of those doubts about halfway through December. She graciously mentioned that it would be okay. 5000 miles was just a number. I had been dedicated through out the year. No one could accuse me of being lazy and unmotivated. "Take it easy on yourself. There is next year and you can go for 5000 miles then." She was right. I could ride 4900 miles and be proud of my accomplishment. It would be 250 more miles than my previous best year. It would be a great improvement.

I would have been okay with it except for the mental exercise of realizing that on December 26 I was only 100 miles from my goal and on January 1 I would be 5000 miles from by goal. I was never going to be closer. So I put my head down, got up on my seat and started pedaling the 101 miles that I needed that last week of December.

Sure there were a lot of goals that I did not make during 2015. I did not learn Spanish 10 minutes a day using duolingo while at lunch sitting in my car enjoying a very inexpensive lunch of leftovers and a can of soup. I did learn about el hombre and una mujer for about a week and quickly learned to take a 20 minute power nap on a consistent and daily basis. Would I have been better off expanding my knowledge of other languages, languages that care way too much about the gender of the noun when choosing your articles? Argh. Maybe. However, those naps were very refreshing and provided the extra energy that I need to make up for the lack of caffeine since I swore off Diet Coke 2 years ago.

I also had wanted to write one blog entry a week for the year 2016. I know that consistency in posting is very important in building readership. You have your rhythms too. You need to be able to expect the next blog to be posted on Sunday afternoon like clock work. That allows you to plan your week. Get home from church, do the cross word, procrastinate doing the laundry by reading Roger's blog. These are important rituals, and if maintained will increase the readership of these ramblings. It didn't happen. The Sharritt life became complicated by opening our home to helping a family through Safe Families as described in the Christmas letter, and poof, that schedule was thrown off by practices, games, and homework and a sapping of energy that was much easier to marshal in my 30's. So posts slipped to one every other week.

That's it. I had wanted to do 3 things in 2015. I managed 1 of them. True, hitting 333 would get me into the hall of fame if I were an overpaid man child playing baseball. But I am not. Life is full of choices. Riding 5000 miles, taking a daily nap, and doing the best that we could for a family in need were very important to Bev and I. So that is what got done.

That's it. Life is full of choices. Do your best, and don't let the cold weather kill you. Pretty good advice while sitting in a warm spot by a sunny window on a cold morning in January taking stock of 2015 goals and wondering what I will accomplish in 2016.

Take care

Roger

Sharritt 2015 Christmas Letter 2016 version

 

Dear Blog and Christmas Card Reader.

 



Nursing home committee

The Sharritts hope that this finds you doing well. We are fine on the cusp of the new year. The lovely Miss Beverly leapt into the 2nd of her 3 half-century time blocks, and we both like the view from our fifties. One of our favorite exercises when we lead a small group or study at church is to have folks draw a timeline of their lives and mark 5-10 events significant in some way to share with the group. Besides giving Roger a chance to recount his bitter defeat in the 8-year-olds 4H cookie competition, the exercise opens a window to zoom out on the big picture of life.  Ben, Grace and Chris continue to light up their worlds and make mom and dad thankful that they compose our future nursing home admittance committee. When we draw our own timeline, we start to glimpse our 85 year retirements (150 life expectancy - 65 retirement age = 85 years of retirement) slowly approaching. Just a fuzzy dot on the future timeline, but feeling the downward rush of gravity on this side of over the hill--enjoying the wind in our face.

We made a wide, sharpie-sized mark on our timelines this past summer becoming volunteer hosts for Safe Families, an organization that works with families in crisis outside of the courts and foster care system. Their philosophy is based on Biblical hospitality and restoring families.

 http://safe-families.org/

 

After the vetting process, during which Roger managed not to rub his hands together too gleefully at the prospect of a new garden workforce, we welcomed a family into our quiet, uncomplicated nest in September, soon followed by connections with their extended family and their community. We have many stories to share. The intersection of these many timelines has disrupted and enriched our lives in big ways.

 


Sometimes the intersection looks like this:

 

 

 

 

And sometimes it looks more like this:

 

Roger also stepped his toe across an important age milestone this year. In early July, his timeline inched past the length of his father, Lloyd's who died too young. It is milestone for most men when they surpass their fathers in any endeavor. Ben remembers fondly the day he grew taller than Roger. Roger certainly felt the sting of being eclipsed by Ben and did everything that he could to keep it from happening; including rubbing Ben's feet with shortening every evening before bed from 8th grade on. So at 53 years and 15 days, Roger took a deep breath and came out of his protective cave.

 

The Sharritt world expanded with an opportunity to grow produce for the church's weekly community dinner. The premise was simple. Every Thursday night the church would provide a free meal to anyone who would show up. Some lovely people stepped up to do the cooking and clean up each week. The lovely Miss Beverly and Roger had a vision that they could provide fresh produce weekly in season. After a nine year hiatus, Roger still remembered how to order bulk seed from the garden seed catalog. Bev encouraged temperance. Roger committed to the tilling, planting, and weeding. The lovely Miss Beverly agreed to do the thing that Roger does not like, which is picking. (is it any wonder the market gardening didn't work out? What farmer doesn't want to pick and get it to market?)

t took a while. The tiller and hoes had to be overhauled and sharpened, and glorious spreadsheets built for planting/harvest schedules. In May, we invited the kids from the after-school childcare ministry out to set out the tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash. True, the rows were a bit haphazardly spread throughout the garden, but Roger calmed down and we were in business.



There was also a bit of customer education to accommodate, as the menu prior to our contribution only included anemic vacuum packed bags of iceberg lettuce. "Yes, that dark green stuff is lettuce." By the end of the season, those eating were taking more arugula and mizuna greens mix than the iceberg stuff. The green beans with sausage and potatoes were a big hit. We were sorely reminded that it takes a lot to feed a village. By a lot we mean 40 lbs of potatoes and 60 lbs of green beans. Roger wanted to help the lovely Miss Beverly do all of that harvesting but agreements were agreements. She managed to corral some kids into picking with her, but for the most part, the good thing to do sometimes became the hard thing to do.  We had a bumper crop of delicata winter squash, but no matter the amount of education, winter squash casserole did not make it past the menu committee.

 It was also a great year for traveling for the lovely Miss Beverly and Roger. Memorial Day weekend had us piling in to the car for a 14 hour road trip to Dallas and our niece's wedding. We remembered vaguely that we could once get into a car and drive for a  28 hour round trip on a three day weekend. Our memories were fuzzy and incorrect. Brenna's wedding was wonderful. The torrential Texas rains stopped long enough to let the outdoor wedding take place. An hour with the massage therapist prepared our 50 year old bodies for the trip back home a bit wiser and committed to saving enough money to buy plane tickets next time.

June took us to Seattle for nephew James' high school graduation. Having learned our lesson, we flew to Seattle. We also took our time and enjoyed a week of vacation in the environs of the Pacific Northwest. We found a cycling tour guide and took a fantastic riding tour of Bainbridge Island. Our guide was living the life of biking through beautiful scenery for pay. He showed us a cove where our hearty forefathers had cut down trees, floated them through the sound and chopped them into huge beams. The one picture that he showed us was of a finished timber about 16 by 16 ft. He also had a very wry sense of humor. As we started riding after a brief stop for pictures of the Seattle skyline, he pointed out that the next hill was very "walkable" (translation: straight up and down.)  Mr tour guide was a bit of a show off as he rode up to the top, rode halfway back down to see that we were able to walk up the hill. Reconnaissance completed, he turned back around and rode the hill to wait on us.

Next, we explored San Juan Island. (I was very surprised that Puerto Rico was located in the Pacific Northwest. I guess there is no substitute for traveling). We waited on a pod of Orca that mocked us with their absence, strolled through a lavender farm on the verge of full purple, and ate a great meal on the island. The lovely Miss Beverly searched out a mountain hike to a serene Alpine lake an hour east of Seattle. The hike from the trail head was listed as moderate and about an hour long. These things are relative. In hoosier land compared to our Turkey Run or Brown County State Park trails, it would have been considered a defcon 5 and hold the nitro glycerin tablets by my fellow elephant-ear-eating midwestern kinsmen. However, the view of the lake surrounded by snow melting peaks was a balm to my tired feet and weary limbs. The lake had the clearest purest water that Bev and Roger had ever seen. It was amazing. We may never see a more beautiful sight in our next 100 years and that would be okay.



Our third trip of the year took us to Iowa. In late July, Roger, Ben, Chris, and the lovely Miss Beverly decided that it would be good to ride across the great state of Iowa. Over time, I continue to search for opportunities to participate in big rides. This year we set our eyes on RAGBRAI. (Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa). Imagine 20,000 people hopping on a bike, stopping every few miles to drink beer to be followed a few more miles down the road to water the first few rows of the nearest corn field. (We had plenty to choose from it being Iowa and all.) The lovely Miss Beverly agreed to be Support and Gear for the ride. Chris, Ben, and Roger would not have made it without her tearing down the tent, washing the breakfast dishes, driving to the next town, finding the nearest Y with shower facilities, setting up the tent, getting supper ready. She was fantastic. 480 miles across Iowa on a bike, in a week. It was so much fun.

All of those great vacation memories and we still weren't finished. Our expanded family expanded a little further with a trip to a rented house at the Indiana Dunes on beautiful Lake Indiana. We met Kelly and Kevin Moe, explored the local sites and restaurants and sat on the beach. It was Columbus Day weekend. Thankfully everyone looked at their calendars and not their thermometers and we had the beach nearly to ourselves and the balmy 70 degree weather.

Bev took a creative journey last spring on a challenge from niece Cyndi Rae and nephew Jon. She did the 100 day challenge of choosing a creative pursuit (using the hundreds of fabric pennants from the Kozak wedding) and making something new or at least work on something each day. Her favorite projects were making jester hats for the dogs, and this crib quilt for a former intern's 4th baby.

What a great ride for the year. As our timeline stretches into our middle 50 years, our line looks more like a tree with branches through the garden, a visit at family milestones and and rejuvenation with beautiful scenery. It was a road that led Roger on 5001 miles riding a bike and the lovely Miss Beverly on igniting a passion for creating with pennants from past highlights. Finally, it led to opening our house and lives to a family in need. It is a timeline with many twists and turns, and highlighted with many blessings.

Take Care

Roger and Bev.