Tag: blog

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.

The Last Parking Spot

The AM commute is always full of caffeinated, elbows-out driving here in my lovely city. I sometimes cringe as people jockey for positions in two lanes of essentially free-flowing traffic. I often wonder, “are they going to get the last parking spot?” It doesn’t matter. My 20-year-old car is only capable of so much revelry. There’s no way I can compete with the giant SUVs powered by V24 engines and the bi-turbo hot hatches that zip in barely-there spaces like motorcycles in Thailand. So, I drive in a terribly unsexy fashion at just about the speed limit as people pass me impatiently. And then it happens. Some 2-3 minutes after they’ve raced ahead, I come pottering along and park right beside them. They’re finishing up the morning’s first conference call and searching their bags for heaven only knows.

I’m sure I am missing out. What I’m missing, I don’t know. What I do know is I got in before the last parking spot was taken. But then again, it is never the last parking spot.

Enjoy your day.

Lovely Lisbon

Melanie – my wife and better half – had a milestone birthday this year. We love to travel, so for her birthday we decided to have her pick a trip that she wanted. She had never been on a cruise of any sort and has been considering it for a few years. So she picked a river cruise up the Douro River in Portugal.

Anyone with access to a map will quickly recognize that the Douro River has nothing to do with Lisbon. However, Viking’s River of Gold starts in Lisbon. I’ll cover this trip in segments to keep these posts manageable in size. So… Lisbon is our starting point.

Lisbon is a decent port of entry for Europe. The airport is modern and customs was pretty easy, if not a little slow. Our trip started off with a couple of airline delays – throwing shade at United Airlines – so we were running about 1.5 days behind on our trip. Viking did great. They met us at the airport, helped with our bags, and delivered us to our hotel in a clean, upscale vehicle. No muss, no fuss.

Avenida da Liberdade

Our hotel was the Tivoli Avenida Liberdade, which is an upscale hotel on the main avenue in Lisbon. The street is very wide with plenty of tile sidewalks under a canopy of sycamore trees. Along the street, we stopped off in a cafe hut and had a snack in an open air cafe. I had been brushing up on my Portuguese in order to get around, but it was unnecessary. Everyone spoke perfect English. The food was great, the cafe was tasty and it was nice to be not moving in and out of airports. The weather was nearly perfect: sunny and 80F (27C). We had a lovely stroll along the wide street, people watching and window shopping.

Enter the Tuk Tuk

Because we were running behind schedule, we missed out on the Viking guided tours. Near our cafe, we saw a series of golf carts lined up. As we strolled past, a lively young lady asked us if we wanted a Tuk tuk tour. These vehicles – some three wheeled, some four – are called tuk tuks (long u) and are a common sight in Lisbon. These tuk tuk drivers navigate the very hilly streets of Lisbon and point out some of the finer points. Our guide, Nadia, was great. She spent an hour and a half showing us Lisbon, sharing its long history and fascinating backstory.

Not Enough Time

In the end, we decided we didn’t get enough time in Lisbon. Less than 24 hours simply did not do it justice. We didn’t get to see the sea or cross either of the long bridges across the Tagus River. Lovely Lisbon left us wanting more. Below are some highlighted photos from our short stay in Lisbon.

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!

Stop Kicking the Can Down the Road

Hi everyone. My name is Troy and it’s been five weeks since I’ve posted. I’m full of excuses. Busy at work, planning a trip, international travel, illness, different spring breaks for four kids, yada yada… But in reality, there’s a wealth of things on the list to write about and I haven’t made the time for it. If I’m honest, I haven’t had the inspiration. I have sat down multiple times to craft a post, and I haven’t finished one. So this is the marker I’m laying down. Write, or hang up the keyboard.

I have several posts planned. Here’s a quick list of what I’ll post in the coming weeks:

  • Travel:
    • A frequent visitor’s guide to Barcelona
    • Buying property in Catalunya
    • Attending El Clasico as a Barcelona fan in Madrid
  • Fitness:
    • Being a Beginner
    • Learning to Climb Part 2
    • Running – Continuing Return from Injury
  • Mindfulness:
    • Why Not Inner Peace through Christianity?

Learning to Climb

This year, I’ve set some non-running goals for myself. It’s a good thing too. Because of some silly over-training on my part, I’ve come down with posterior tibial tendonitis (PTT). PTT is much less frequently experienced by runners than the dreaded plantar fasciitis, which I’ve also had, but PTT has proven to be just as pesky to get rid of. After 6 weeks of physical therapy, I’m still unable to run any distance pain free. I have learned over the years that in order to maintain my mental stability in a demanding workplace, I need to move. I’ve also learned that I do better when I’m moving outside. Last year in the summer, my cousin, her husband and I hiked to the top of Mount Chocorua and it helped to fuel a whole new fire in my belly.

I have some lofty climbing goals for the year. My cousin’s husband invited me to join his three-person group to summit Mont Blanc later in the year. At 4,810 m (15,781 ft), this isn’t exactly a walk in the park. While my fitness should not (at least before my self-inflicted injury) be an issue, it would be good to get more experienced on trails and in wintery conditions since the top of Mont Blanc is glacial ice year round. So, we have planned a couple of tune-up climbs. This coming weekend, we will – weather permitting – climb Mt. Washington in New Hampshire. While the altitude is not stunning at 1,916 m (6,288 ft), the climb is fairly technical and the weather can get downright treacherous. Some 150 people have died on Mt. Washington since record keeping began in the mid-1800s. As such, I’ve been taking a multi-faceted approach to training.

Getting Vertical

That’s me up in the purple zone. And yes, for you experts, it is an easy course.

Growing up in the foothills of the Appalachians, I’m no stranger to hills. I’ve even done a bit of ill-advised, inexperienced bouldering (rope-free rock climbing) in my youth. But on the whole I have very little experience going vertical. So, I’ve recently been going rock wall climbing at a local gym in town. We are very lucky to live in a metropolitan area with these kinds of options, since the tallest natural peak around me can be measured in the tens of feet. I’m finding that I love climbing. Much like running, it gives me a sense of accomplishment. While I’ll do it when I have to, I sincerely detest machine or free weight training for the sake of weight training. It just does not leave me feeling accomplished. Climbing on the other hand has everything I’m looking for: problem-solving, a great muscle work out, and some elements of cardiovascular exercise as well. I’m sure a seasoned climber would tell you that my technique is terrible, but still, I’m pretty reliably going upward and building in confidence. Even better, my wife agreed to join me on my last trip and it appears that this might be something we can do together. While I don’t intend to do any actual vertical climbing on Mt. Washington or Mont Blanc, getting experience well help me remain confident and sure-footed as we take to steep ascents on higher terrain.

Equipment Test

I learned this year that Mountaineering is chocked full of equipment. Extra stiff mountaineering boots, crampons, trekking poles, lightweight layered clothing, eye protection, and on and on. The acquisition of this long list of surprisingly expensive equipment has turned me into bit of a bargain shopper, as I’ve learned the ins and outs of various websites and specialty stores. Now with a tub full of equipment, I figured it was important to get out and try out some of the gear, as the first time I wear this stuff should not be on the mountain. So, I recently packed up and headed out on my local running trail for a 10k hike while completely over-equipped. I’m sure I was a real sight as I strode around a trail essentially designed for running while dutifully using my trekking poles and carrying a pack replete with ice axe. At least it was a little snowy that day so I didn’t completely look like I was off my meds. Here’s what I learned:

  • Super-stiff mountaineering boots are great for keeping your Posterior Tibial Tendon relaxed. These things are not too dissimilar to a medical immobility boot
  • Super-stiff mountaineering boots are, on the other hand, not great for my outer most toes during long-range hikes on mostly flat ground. Mine were both quite red and quite angry at the end.
  • Trekking poles are surprisingly helpful, especially when precariously balancing on rocks while crossing a stream in sub-freezing temps
  • There are many sharp points on an ice axe that, if not carefully positioned on your backpack, will in fact poke you repeatedly
  • Super-stiff mountaineering boots are also not excellent on ice in spite of what appears to be quite aggressive treads on bottom

Strength Training

I know what I said earlier about strength training, but I’m actually happy to weight train if there is a purpose. As I watched YouTube videos about climbing Mount Washington in the winter, I came realize that I’m in for quite a workout. And since I’m not able to run any sort of distance at the moment, I knew I would need to hit the weights. So, three to four days a week I’ve been working the major muscle groups. Squats, deadlifts, bench press, dips and pull ups have become my friends again along with a bunch of core exercises. For years now, I’ve been running at least an hour a day roughly 6 days a week. It hasn’t left a lot of time for weight training. As one might imagine, I have lost a fair amount of strength and muscle mass. But here’s the other thing I forgot. Weight training makes me ravenous. So now I’m gobbling vast quantities of food that I haven’t needed or wanted and my… ahem… waistline is suffering a bit. I’m resisting pulling the fat pants out of the closet, but I know from experience that I’m getting dangerously close to opening an embarrassing stitch line with one ill-timed stoop to pick something up off the ground. Let’s just hope I can keep my pants in one continuous piece until I can get back to running.

Sense of Purpose… and Impending Death

On the whole, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the shift in focus from running as I learn new mountaineering skills. It has given me a sense of purpose in my free time since I’m unable to log the running miles that I’ve grown accustomed to. I still have so much to learn, from knot-tying to belaying, to not having an ice axe come loose and stab me in the face. Yes, that last little number was a tidbit I picked up from reviewing the manual for my recently acquired ice axe harness. Apparently, mountaineering is a bit of a medieval sport.

This is absolutely part of the instructions that came with my recently acquired ice axe leash