Wheels Turning

I know someone who's a big bicycling enthusiast, so we recently spent a few weeks watching coverage of the Tour de France. In case, you don't know, it's a bicycle race that involves 21 stages through various mountain ranges in and around France. To call it grueling would be an understatement.

Whenever I hear professional athletes complain about how tough they have it, I try to sympathize. I don't personally go out 162 days a year and try to hit a little white ball somewhere that doesn't have someone trying equally hard to catch it. I don't run a few yards only to be smashed to the ground by a gigantic person who wants that brown object in my hands. I don't slice across the ice on tiny blades while trying to hit a puck without being crushed by another person who can get an awful lot of momentum on that ice.

So I don't feel I can comment on how tough it is to be a professional athlete. They battle tough crowds, injuries, the always-constant possibility of losing their job. I understand that it isn't easy.

But I also want to laugh at most of them. Sure it's tough, but why don't they try this: get on a bicycle, ride 100 miles or so up mountains and across windswept plains, battling hundreds of others, sometimes getting knocked down when someone else loses control but then climbing back on the bike to continue. Do this all day until you can barely breathe or walk. Collapse on the ground or stagger to a trailer. Then get a few hours of sleep and do it again. Repeat every day for three weeks (with only one or two rest days).

Some of those cyclists ride with broken bones. Some of them are bleeding. It's hard to get water or food sometimes. They have to battle through crazy fans who think it's funny to crowd them or try to pat them on the back.

And they choose to do this! There are several races across the world and they show up as often as they can to apparently try to kill themselves so they can be first over that line and bathe in the short-lived glory of victory.

As I learned this year, it's actually a team effort ... but it's still one person on that bike who has to make it through the day. And the next day. And the next.

I hope I'll remember that the next time I think I'm having a hard day at work. I'll look at the cushy desk chair I'm sitting in. I'll feel the air conditioning (or lack of rain on my head). I'll reach for my fruit bar and cup of water. I'll think about the weekend. And maybe I'll realize how relatively lucky I am.

Amazingly enough, though, we have one thing in common: they love cycling, I love writing. They'll keep doing it, I'll keep doing it. That's what we're here to do, in a way.

And that's what it's all about, isn't it?

It Happened

It happened! The Cubs are the World Series Champions!

No more "maybe next year." No more talk about curses, goats, black cats. They did it!!!

Besides the fact that it lets me think about something other than politics, why does it matter? Because this team, and their fans, deserved it. The team never gave up, even when they were down three games to one and it looked dire. The fans never stopped loving them, even when it looked dire. They deserve each other and the championship.

I'm a relative newcomer to Cubs fandom, having joined the ranks 29 years ago, but I know the heartache, the resignation, the anguish that used to come at the end of every year. I was always so hopeful and then I was crushed.

But now I can rejoice! I can celebrate! I can smile all through the winter. And so can Cubs fans all over the world.

Thank you to the Cubs for making this happen. Thank you for NEVER giving up!
Thank you for giving me hope each year and giving all of us joy this year.

Here's what I wrote in July: Go Cubs blog

They made history in that 7th game. And I'm pretty sure they've changed me for the better.

Closing Ceremony

Tonight is the Closing Ceremony for the Olympics, which I always approach with mixed feelings.

On one hand, I'm a little relieved that I'll have more personal time. It seems I've spent the past two weeks alternating between work and the Olympics, to the detriment of housework or anything else.

On the other hand, I'm a little sad. I watch so much of the Olympics because there's always something to watch. There are sports I will never see on TV otherwise, so I can learn about them and see what I've been missing. There is plenty of drama and pageantry. There are the beautiful beaches and mountains.

But most of all, there are the athletes. I realize that we had a few this time who didn't exactly acquit themselves well, but those were a minority. Overall, I saw many inspirational people from all over the globe, who demonstrated humility, hard work and skill. I saw people in tears because they were able to compete against the best in the world ... and it didn't matter if they won a medal or not. They were at the pinnacle: the Olympics!

I saw people from all over mingling with each other, talking and sharing stories. Nationalities and religions took a back seat to connections, to humanity. They had more in common than they had differences.

And that is what I will miss the most. The Olympics offer us a glimpse of what we could all be: people with much in common, who want to win but never to humiliate, who recognize the skills in each other and respect them. We could all be the runner who tumbles to the ground, jumps to her feet and then stops to help her fellow competitor, even at the risk of her own victory. We could all reach out and shake hands.

There are many reasons that can't really happen, but the Olympics remind me of the possibilities.

So I say "thank you" to all of the Olympic athletes. May you have as much success in the rest of your lives as you did in showing us the meaning of sportsmanship and humanity.

Getting Closer

I got the proof copy of The Other Side two days early ... and I was afraid to open the package! I know it's silly, but so much has happened to delay this novel that I didn't think I could stand to see another cover that's too dark. It was Schrodinger's cat! As long as I didn't open the package, the proof copy could be good to go, or not.

I finally opened it. The verdict: the cover is still dark, but not as dark as the first one. My husband thinks it's okay. I'm not sure. The silhouette is now visible, but it's not obvious. The image also seems bluer than the original. I emailed the artist and asked if she wants to look at it before I release the novel. If she does, I'll see what she thinks. If she doesn't (she's quite busy these days), I think I'm going to go with this version.

That leaves a final run-through of proofreading, which I will try to begin in the next day or so. (I confess that I've been a little busy birding: the warblers are coming through SE Kansas so I've been trying to see as many of them as possible. I've also been watching the NHL playoffs. Tomorrow night the Cubs are on ESPN, so forget about me getting anything else done that evening!)

Thanks so much for your patience. We're a lot closer than we were last week!

And Happy May!

Hope

Those of you who know me at all know that I'm a Cubs fan.

Yes, I said it: I'm a Cubs fan. I've only been one since 1987, when I went to a game at Wrigley Field, but that one game sealed my fate. The brick walls covered in ivy, the atmosphere, Harry Caray singing the 7th inning stretch: how could I be immune to those charms?

I tell you this so you know I'm not a fair-weather, come-lately fan. I'm nothing compared to people in their 90s who've been fans all their lives, but I was there for some of the lean, painful years. I was there for years when they had great players but just couldn't seem to make it to the postseason, or got to the postseason and stumbled, for reasons that no one can understand. (No, I don't believe it's the goat.)

Each spring, I'd get excited all over again. Each fall, I'd say, "Maybe next year." And I was sincere.

This past spring was much the same as usual. I knew they had some new, young faces, but that's happened before. I knew they had a new manager, but that's happened before. I hoped for at least a .500 season.

But after a few months, I realized something was different. It was hard because I couldn't see most of the games (How ironic that WGN didn't televise the games this of all years! Come on, WGN, don't break our hearts again next year!), but when I did get to see a game, it was fun to watch. I couldn't always say that in previous years. Still, I had seen good years before, so I cautioned myself not to get too worked up. This is what you do when you're a Cubs fan: you try to remain realistic, you remember the history (as much as you'd like to forget it).

The Cubs, though, played as if they'd never heard of the history, as if anything was possible. I watched, somewhat stunned, as they became the second wild card team. I watched, even more amazed, as they won the wild card game. Then I watched them win the NLDS ... and I didn't know what to do. Get excited? Be cynical so I wouldn't get hurt?

I did what most Cubs fans did: I dared to believe. I believed they could get to the World Series and win it!

As you know, that didn't quite happen (no matter what they said in "Back to the Future II").

But you know what? This year when I say, "Maybe next year," I mean it even more than I did in previous years. The Cubs have showed me that they can win, that they believe in themselves, that anything is possible.

I can't say I've never felt that before. But I'm sure grateful for a chance to feel it again.

Thanks, Cubs. I'll see you in the spring!

The Unexpected

The other evening, I found myself in front of the TV, flipping between college football, college hockey and professional soccer. Sometimes the seasons overlap and it's a bonanza for sports fans. In fact, there are few times of the year when you can't find at least one sport televised.

So what's the attraction of sports? I'm sure everyone would have a different answer: the display of teamwork, the emotion of winning or losing, the athletic skill. For me, it's simple: I like having no idea what the ending will be. Surprise me! And sports do that. I might have a vague idea of the probable winner, but I've learned many times that I can't really know, which makes it all the more exciting for me.

That's my preference in reading and writing, too. I don't want the formulaic, I want the new and unexpected. I don't want to know what's behind the door or the curtain or the fence until it's revealed. Surprise me!

I guess that's what life is like, isn't it? You never know what's coming next. I wonder if that's why some people prefer the formula: because they think life is already unpredictable enough. I can respect that, but it's not me. My life at times becomes too predictable. The alarm goes off, I get up and get ready, I go to work. I work until break, I eat a snack, I work until lunch, I eat lunch, I work until break, I eat another snack, I work until 5:00, I go home. That's when the day becomes a little more interesting: I'm in charge of my time again.

And this week, I'll choose to spend some of that time watching the World Series. I might be able to look up the odds online, I might know who I'm rooting for, but I don't really know which team will win.

Surprise me!

(To those of you who know me: you know who I'm rooting for, but I'm keeping it to myself so I don't jinx anyone. You understand, right?)