Category: blogging

Finding Balance: Returning to the Zen and Active Lifestyle Blog

It has been far too long since my last post, and I wanted to take a moment to extend my sincerest apologies for the hiatus. Life has a way of keeping us on our toes, and lately, the demands of work and personal commitments have consumed much of my time. However, I am thrilled to announce that I am back and more motivated than ever to share my adventures, experiences, and insights with all of you.

When I initially began this journey as a travel blogger, little did I know that it would evolve into something even more meaningful. Along the way, I discovered a passion for a zen and active lifestyle—an embodiment of the balance between mind, body, and spirit. From distance running and rock climbing to mountain biking and delving into the world of home improvement, I have immersed myself in a diverse range of activities that have enhanced my well-being.

Life, with all its twists and turns, often reminds us of the importance of prioritization and self-care. It has taken some time to find equilibrium amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Nonetheless, this period of reflection and introspection has reaffirmed my commitment to this blog and the incredible community that has formed around it.

So, from this point forward, expect regular updates once again! I am eager to delve into the world of captivating trails, reach new heights on breathtaking cliffs, pedal my way through stunning landscapes, and transform my living spaces into sanctuaries of tranquility. Together, we will explore the intersections of adventure, mindfulness, and personal growth, finding inspiration in the simple joys of life.

Thank you for your patience and understanding during my absence. Your steadfast presence has reminded me of the significance of sharing these experiences, and I am excited to embark on this journey with you once again. Let’s reconnect, rediscover, and reinvigorate our passion for living a zen and active lifestyle.

Stay tuned for the upcoming posts, where we’ll dive into thrilling tales, insightful reflections, and practical tips that will inspire you to embrace your own path of balance, wellness, and adventure.

Boldly going, occasionally delusional: Quixote Goes

-Troy

The Value of Being Neighborly

I’m a day late and a dollar short on this blog. This year, I intended to spend time on the weekends and post each Monday. We’re still in January and I’m already posting a day late. I’m not exactly a dollar short though – I’m actually up a few dollars, unintentionally. Let’s dig in – or rather – out.

We’ve had some snow here in central Ohio. I love the snow. I embrace it and the cold of winter. I could handle longer daylight hours in the winter months, but I’ve largely found that the more I embrace the winter as it comes, the more I get out of it. A few years ago, I noticed my better half was increasing her distaste for winter weather. As such, I started scheduling time for us to go out into the winter weather while appropriately dressed for the conditions. What’s that saying? “There’s no such thing as bad weather, merely bad preparation.” Something like that. I’m happy to report, dear reader, that my diabolical plan worked. I wouldn’t say that my wife Melanie embraces the cold and snow like I do – yet – however, she has found a joy for downhill skiing and figures out how we can make time for it.

Snow and cold don’t work for everyone though. The slippery conditions can be hazardous to the less mobile and arthritic joints don’t love the colder temps. So I recognize that my embrace of winter is not the same for everyone at all stages of life. Last night, I saw a couple of neighbors post on our neighborhood Facebook group that they needed help shoveling their driveways. After I took care of my chores at home, I had time to either write a Monday blog post, or help my neighbors. I chose the latter.

I reached out per the message’s instructions and confirmed that no one else had agreed to help. After all, I don’t want to get in the way of some industrious middle- or high-schooler looking to make some valuable spending money. After confirming that my neighbors did not have any scheduled helpers, I told them I was coming to take care of their driveway. They immediately asked about payment. “No charge,” I simply replied. They politely protested. “I must pay you something.” “It is too late for you, don’t come in the dark.” I smiled and walked down with my snow shovel and quietly got started. I was already dressed in my cold weather gear from walking our dogs, so I was honestly enjoying my time out.

Two-thirds of the way through the job, the garage door opened. A venerable Indian man walked out to greet me with cash in hand. I politely protested, “I just want to be a good neighbor.” “Please,” he replied. “I won’t sleep if you don’t let me pay you for your efforts.” Now that I’m a bit older and marginally wiser, I handled this situation with a touch of poise. Younger Troy would have not taken the money and perhaps said something that took away from the dignity of the situation. Instead, I deferred and took the money. I don’t need the money, nor do I want it. However, not taking it would have made the other person feel indebted or obliged – also not what I wanted. So, I ended up getting my target step count per my fitness tracker, I helped a neighbor in need, I got some joyful time in the snow, and I earned a few unintended bucks. Well worth a late blog post!

Now the question is what to do with the money. I’ve put it in my sock drawer for now and plan to use it as ‘seed money’ to do something else positive for the neighborhood. Maybe if I shovel enough driveways this winter, I can buy some extra flowers for the flower bed at the entrance of our neighborhood in the Spring. It will be a fun, neighborly experiment!

Exploring Appalachia: Going Back

Last week’s post marked the relaunch of this once-travel-turned-reflective-inner-journey blog. This year, I plan to pick up on two main threads: 1.) Exploring Appalachia, which serves as the familial roots for my wife and me, and 2.) Completing my exploration of Ulysses by James Joyce. This post kicks off the exploration of Appalachia, as the title suggests.

Last year, my wife and I bought a modest vacation home in Fayetteville, West Virginia. But the story leading up to it is worth telling, even if briefly. Prior to Fayetteville, we had been saving for a vacation home and in 2019 met with a realtor in Barcelona, Spain. We had traveled to Barcelona a couple of times a year for five years in a row and we wanted to take advantage of low home prices in our favorite place on earth. We attempted to navigate the buying process there, but it didn’t work out because of the requirements for foreign buyers. Now 2 years into the Coronavirus pandemic, that failure was a blessing. We would have been paying for a house we largely couldn’t use.

Fast forward to Fayetteville. Within driving distance of our home Columbus, Ohio, we visited the New River Gorge area a few of times during the pandemic for the extensive outdoor sports: rock climbing, trail running, white water rafting to name a few. We fell in love with the charm of the town and the world-class sporting opportunities. This was prior to the national park designation in late 2020 and at that time, home prices were within our vacation home budget. Sitting on our savings that was making essentially no interest, we decided to make a splash.

The home buying process was arduous, we were well-qualified buyers but our local bank told us to “go find another lender” because they couldn’t handle their current business load. We had to wait on the regional appraiser to make the 100-mile trek to Fayetteville. The home inspection found a litany of problems that needed to be negotiated. We finally closed after four months of seemingly endless back and forth. Now we could begin renovating our humble house that was in dire need of attention, but that story is for another day.

As part of our purchase and temporary move to Fayetteville to renovate the house, my wife Melanie and I extensively discussed “going back” to Appalachia. We were both raised in Scioto County, Ohio, an economically depressed county with localized small towns along the Ohio River in the foothills of Appalachia. There were many things that felt like home, from the ultra-local news coverage on Huntington-based WSAZ to the difficulty in finding a reliable plumber. Melanie and I had worked so hard to move to a major metropolitan area away from the Appalachian attitudes of our upbringing, and now we’ve made a major investment in Southern West Virginia. What were we thinking?!?

Fast forward a year and we both agree that buying the Fayetteville house was perhaps our best decision as a couple. We love the area for the outdoor opportunities, but even more importantly, we have met so many amazing people with their own fascinating stories. Rather than being pulled back into some of the negativity that can mark small town life, we have been utterly uplifted by small business owners, fellow outdoorsy people, and exceptionally talented craftspeople who highlight the area. As younger people searching for greener grass, we once thought that Appalachia was backward and was best viewed from the rear view mirror. But here we are embracing it anew and happily exploring Appalachia.

Crossroads: Should I Stay or Should I Go?

I was just about to close the shudders on this blog and take it all down. WordPress informed me via email that my credit card on file had expired and that I needed to update it in order for my annual subscription to be renewed. I thought, “meh.” I haven’t had the time – or the travels – to write anything new in quite some time. So I simply didn’t act. A couple of months went by with no action from me and then I received the renewal receipt. WordPress figured out how to renew with my card on file. So now I’m thinking, “Let’s get back on the wagon.”

I originally started this blog with the intent to share our travels. For about 7 years, my wife and I were road warriors, constantly taking in new locations across the US and Europe with our eyes on the horizon for new destinations in Latin America, Scandinavia, and potentially Asia. However, a couple of things happened that slowed our roll.

First, my Dad passed away, very early in life by today’s standards. As I let his mortality sink in, writing a travel blog just felt a bit lofty. “It doesn’t really matter,” I thought. “Very few people will read or benefit from my writing.” I ended up writing about a more personal journey rather than staying focused on travel. The title still worked though. Quixote Goes: Boldly going, occasionally delusional. Rather than traipsing around countries where I didn’t speak the native language and relying on the hospitality of strangers, I was still on a journey though life and finding my way through this world.

The next big thing that hit the idea of a travel blog was Covid-19. We all know the deal. Travel was quashed, countries closed their borders, states rated each other on infection rates, political affiliates hurled missiles across the aisle. I think there is pent up demand for travel, but the proverbial Genie has been let out of the bottle. Things won’t be the same for some time.

Alas, I’ve now paid for another year of this blog, so I might as well use it. So here we go. Post one of the new year. This year, I plan to further the journey. I want to continue exploring the idea of life’s journey. Given that my wife and I both hail from Appalachia but have our lives rooted outside the region in a work-life that is notably Northeastern, I think there are tales to be told. Still boldly going, still occasionally delusional.

Don’t Call it a Comeback

… I’ve been here for years…

LL Cool J

If you know that song, you’re welcome. It should be running through your head for the next 40 minutes or so. If not, I think it’s worth looking up. But music, like many creative endeavors, is a personal thing.

Speaking of creative endeavors, this blog had to take a back seat for a while. The primary reason is that I ran out of time and energy. In the second half of last year, I doubled the size of my team at work, which meant a lot of hours interviewing, which then turned into a lot of hours training and making sure we had the right culture. There were additional things – I broke my thumb and, ahem, required surgery (that’s a hoot of a story), my lovely better half finished up her Masters in Psychology, we had to stop traveling for some Lord Voldemort-ish thing called COVID-19, and so on. But there’s time to tell these stories.

As such, my wife and I will be restarting this blog. Obviously, this can’t be a travel blog these days. So the theme will be more about life in general. But even on the road of life, we’re still boldly going, and we’re (mostly me) still occasionally delusional.

Stay safe out there!

-Troy

I Have Become my Middle School Assistant Assistant Principal

First, let me get it out of the way in saying that I have the utmost respect for Mr. (Matt?) Mitchell and in this piece I mean him no harm. If there is any “shade” being thrown here it is all internally focused. You, dear reader, will also note that I am unsure of Mr. Mitchell’s first name. These are recollections from more than 30 years ago. All the more interesting that I have now become my Middle School Assistant Assistant Principle some 30 years on.

I have talked about Scioto County before; my birthplace in the Appalachian foothills in the Ohio River Valley. I love my home, so it is with perfect clarity that I see it for what it is: steeped in tradition, conservative, protestant, hard-working but not ambitious, provincial, suspicious of outsiders, rural, local, and individualistic. With two feet in the Midwest, but leaning hard to the American South, our people put practicality about 30 feet higher on the priority list than presentation.

My wife and I noted this on our last trip to Europe in which we sailed up and down the Douro River in Portugal. Even Europe’s squalor is classy. Old homes lay in ruin along the Douro, but all that is left is the timeless stonework. It looks like a Led Zeppelin album cover, mystical and legendary. No plastic flapping in the wind, no garbage strewn about. That cruise could never happen on the mighty Ohio River. Both the Douro and the Ohio are working rivers, but the scenery is not comparable. On the Ohio, manufactured homes with blue tarp serving as replacement shingles and plastic flapping from windows mar the otherwise picturesque greenery. I have digressed.

However, this practicality-over-presentation is exactly the point I want to illustrate. Mr. Mitchell held the position of Assistant Assistant Principal. Yes I know that sounds weird. This was the time when corporal punishment was still common in public schools. I am pretty sure that Assistant Assistant Principal was the school’s way of not calling Mr. Mitchell the “Corporal Punisher.” Mr. Mitchell was a HUGE man. A former football player, it was clear that he lived for the former glory. He was a coach on the all-important middle school football team. The only thing more important in the community than this team was the high school football team. Mr. Mitchell dressed like a coach. Every day. Polyester coach’s pants, white socks, all black training shoes that could be used for refereeing, coaching, or – in many cases around Scioto County – comfortable office shoes. On hot days, he would swap out the coach’s pants for coach’s shorts: same polyester cut with double snaps at the waist, just cut above the knee to display calf muscles that could (and probably did) move automobiles.

As I dressed for work this morning, I slipped into my pro-golfer branded “Traveling Pants.” It was my wife and better half who pointed out that these are essentially the same as the 1980’s polyester coach’s pants. And yes of course, to help protect my feet from the day-to-day pounding I give them while running, climbing, biking, etc. I have paired my Traveling Pants with all black trainers. I don’t wear my all-black athletic shoes all day at the office, but I wear them to- and from- the office for comfort and to protect my office shoes from the often harsh Ohio elements. Practical. So this morning, I paused in front of the full length mirror to offer one last check before heading out the door and confirmed it. I have become my middle school Assistant Assistant Principal, only much less imposing.

In Pursuit of Zero

We have two kids in college at the moment. One is finishing up, the other is taking off from her first year like a rocket, jumping from Freshman to Junior by way of a full load and a summer semester abroad in Ireland. Having had children early in life by modern metropolitan standards, I didn’t have time or the extra funds to save for college. However, I hold firm to the commitment that my children should not come out of college saddled with debt, so… yours truly is paying for college. As I watch the student debt totals climb, I begin to get uneasy. I know I can pay it off in a reasonable time, but I do not like owing money. The only logical conclusion is to reduce spending in order to funnel more money towards the debt. Hence, “in pursuit of zero.”

Having read up, watched movies, and listened to podcasts on the topic of minimalism, I am wise in the ways. There is a mental shift that has to take place in order to buy less. We get settled into our routines like morning coffee at Dunkin Donuts (yes, this part of America runs on Dunkin), grabbing a bite at the cafe for lunch, or closing out a long work week at happy hour with friends. All of a sudden not doing those things when your income level hasn’t changed feels a bit like punishment. I also find that I tend to buy things whimsically – especially when life isn’t going as expected. Frustrations at work? Oh, I think I’ll work on my upper body and core strength with a new set of gymnastic rings for the garage. To be fair, I do use my new toys. But in reality, I don’t need them.

So it is with essentially no fanfare that this weekend I kick off a fresh pursuit of zero. I’ll start with some analysis of where I’ve been spending my money – this is always a hoot. From there I’ll look for opportunities to reduce subscriptions and then set ground rules for spending like: “No takeout coffee.” Even if I can free up an extra $50 a month to redirect toward paying down debt, I’ll call it a win. While I won’t post exact dollar figures here, I’ll check back in in a future post to report any progress.

On a related note, I find that Cait Flanders’ The Year of Less is the best book on moving toward frugal living. What I thought would be an exercise in throwing stuff out and setting rules about shopping a la Marie Kondo turned into a deep analysis of the factors that drove Cait’s consumerist behavior. While I don’t have much in common with Cait, I applauded her candor and honesty, which inspired me to get out of some of my own mental ruts associated with spending.

Cheers!

When Suffering, Smile

So let’s get started with all the appropriate waivers: I’m not a doctor, I don’t play one on TV, seek professional medical or psychological help if you’re feeling an emergency situation, 9 out of 10 dentists probably do not recommend this, call your mother, and my dog ate my homework. That being said, the past several days have been rough. I haven’t felt exactly ill, but I certainly have not felt well. Pile on the work, add a dash of extra stuff to do around the house, and there we have it: a sour mental state.

My wife and better half has even lovingly told me over the past few days, “You’re very abrupt.” I think she used the term ‘mic drop’ in there somewhere, but she made the point. When we kicked off the day yesterday (Monday), I would say I had a full case of the blues. I was contemplating not going to work, which for me, is a serious matter. I actually sat down for a little while and did not move. I felt the pull of inertia rooting me to the spot. After several moments of staring at the fan which was blowing air into my face in front of me, a quote popped into my head, “When you’re really suffering, you have to smile.” “What a dumb thing to say,” I mentally responded to the quote.

After a moment’s mental searching, I realized where I had heard it. It was advice given during an interview with an ultrarunner – you know, these crazy people who run 50k, 100k, 100 miles, and even more. I don’t remember the exact ultrarunner, but honestly they all say about the same thing. Their point is that unless you’ve really done some serious injury to your body, you can overcome the general suffering (muscle aches, random internal pains, etc.) of hours and hours of continuous movement. Overcoming the suffering starts with the mind – sort of. There are some great books and studies on the market covering this in much greater detail, but in essence the science behind endurance says that action and thought are very much linked. So, smiling for instance, actually lifts our spirits and enables us to endure more. Score one for the long distance running crazies.

Yesterday morning, I smiled. I also dressed more professionally than usual. I didn’t have any important meetings on the day, but the professionalism of the clothes also helped propel me forward. Silly, I know. Here is the funny thing: I had an extremely productive day. I had a breakthrough on a topic that had been weighing me down. I had some new administrivia come up and instead of kicking the can down the road, I faced it head on and came to a nearly immediate solution. On the whole, I’d say that I won the day.

So here is to ‘smiling when suffering,’ ‘faking it until you make it,’ ‘a body in motion stays in motion,’ and all the other conventional wisdom for overcoming a bit of adversity. Wishing you a smile filled, roll-that-rock-up-the-hill kind of a sunshiny day.

The Curiosity of Premonitions

Have you ever had a premonition come true? Have you ever changed your mind on something because of a premonition? I’m generally not one for “woo woo” stuff, but lately I’ve come to trust premonitions more and more.

A few weeks ago, my wife and I left our house while feeling completely in disarray. I don’t mean our house was messy, I mean our internal compasses were swirling. We were headed to the airport for our trip to Portugal and something felt wrong about it to both of us. Neither of us knew what the problem was, but we felt like we were headed for trouble. Did we leave the stove on and the house would burn down while we were gone? Well it turned out we were in for some dissatisfying travel experiences and we’d get a chance to check on that stove.

We got to our local John Glenn International Gateway Airport in our beloved home city and things started quickly going awry. I had neglected to take my camping knife out of my backpack and had it discovered in security. Oops. After going through the explanations and machinations of mailing it back to myself, we moved on toward the gate. But first, a meal. 50 minutes later, we had completed our over-priced mediocre-at-best supper and were ready to make our way to the gate. But not so fast. The texts were coming in: “Your flight has been delayed.” It took about another 90 minutes and three more delays for our flight to go past the point of connection in Washington D.C. and so, just like that, we were cancelled and rebooked on the exact same flight the next day. We had just lost 24 hours in Lisbon.

We called the airline. On hold. We called the travel company. “Talk to the airline,” they said. After an hour of getting no love, we were sent back to baggage claim to wait for another hour to pick up our bags and then to make the drive back home. As I’ve written before, we Don’t Expect Benevolence When Traveling, but this was the pits. While waiting for the bags, I looked at Melanie and said, “Well this explains that bad feeling I had about leaving the house.” She smiled knowingly and simply said, “Me too.”

For the past several nights, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night to the disturbing thought of my dog getting hurt. Today I figured out why. Today he was scheduled to go to the groomers for a bit of a spa treatment. To say my dog is special kind of doesn’t do him justice. He is the most athletic, active, and intelligent (if not always for his own good) dog I’ve ever known. The last time he was at this place he climbed out of a 6 foot tall fence 3 times before they figured out how to contain him. He’s now 10 years old and hasn’t slowed down a bit. I had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to attempt that same climb and this time get really hurt. And at 10 years old, recovery is not an easy thing. So this time, I trusted my gut and I didn’t let him go. Who knows, maybe I’m going whacko in my middle age. But I just didn’t think it was worth the risk of not trusting my gut for some trimmed nails and a shampooing.

Do you get premonitions? Do you listen or ignore them?

I still have a keyboard and I’m still alive

It feels like forever since my last post. Life has been busy. My wife and I took a trip to Portugal, some details of which I’ll offer up as an upcoming post. In the run up to the trip, I was feverishly getting ready to be out of the office for 10 days. In addition, my humble little department is growing, so I’m focused on the hiring process on top of my out-of-office prep and – now recovery – plan. Having said all of that, it is high time to get back to writing. I’ve been catching up on some of the blogs I follow and you’re all putting out such great content. It inspires me to get back to it. So… here we go. Kicking off a fresh season of Quixote Goes!