Knife Sharpening 101

I have always enjoyed learning new things, and a while back I bought a whetstone so I could sharpen my own knives. I love to cook, so this seemed a natural extension of that love. But, the first two times I tried it, based on a video I found, I pretty much botched the job, taking even more of the edge off. I also had a guy down the road who sharpened knives, so I took them to him and he repaired the damage I had done, putting a keen, proper chef's edge on them. Unfortunately, he passed away about a year ago. My knives were getting duller by the day.

I was reminded of when I was a kid, and the Summer would start to run hot. My brother and I spent time "down the shore" (the Jerseyest of Jersey expressions), including time with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Shirley, shucking corn on the front porch, listening to the Phillies game on a transistor radio. Uncle Chick (what we called him) would shuck the corn with an unfiltered Pall Mall dangling from his lower lip, not clamped with his upper lip, the cigarette defying the rules of gravity, the ash growing to improbable lengths, and all the while it was bouncing to the rhythms of the conversation between Uncle Chick, and Phillies announcers Ritchie Ashburn and Harry Kalas. We would boil the corn and serve it with dinner, every single day of the Summer as was the family's custom, and Aunt Shirly would bring out a knife for the butter (none of that midwestern rolling of the corn right into the butter - uncivilized Barbarians). Uncle Chick would thank her, then look at it curiously and say, "That damned knife wouldn't cut butter in July!" He'd laugh like it was the first time he'd ever thought of that.

That kind of summed up my current knife situation. Dull knives. Deceased knife sharpener. It was time to learn this task and sharpen my skills (that one was for Uncle Chick). So, I trolled multiple videos until I found this one:

I watched it three times. This man, it seemed to me, knows a thing or three about knives. Then, I clicked on Kill Bill Vol. 2 and went to work. Listen. If you're going to develop knife sharpening skills, you could do worse than watching Beatrix Kiddo going to town with a fistful of Hatori Hanzo steel as the backdrop for your endeavor. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon would also suffice, I am sure.

First, I ran the blade up and down the coarse side of the stone, the strokes nice and even, the small pits getting ground out, the gleam returning to the edge, the sound of steel on stone creating a kind of rhythmic Zen. There is not only a sound that goes with this job, but also the feel of the stone as the blade gets sharper. I did all of the knives on the coarse side, then flipped the stone to the finer grit, and honed them to a long-forgotten sharpness. The sound was different, as was the feel, but the easy rhythm of it remained the same.

I could see how much sharper the knives were, and I grabbed a tomato to confirm my craftsmanship. I was able to cut paper-thin slices of the tomato, even with the 12" chef's knife. Simply beautiful and amazing. Did they taste better? You're absolutely right they did.

Test Ride: Yamaha FJ-09

I honestly wasn't expecting much from this bike. I had read some reviews that said the FJ-09 was fun and torquey, but I didn't expect that to be so true. Hopping onboard, the bike felt a little small, especially after riding the KTM. But, when I put my feet up on the pegs, the bike just fit.

The salesman at YCH encouraged me to ride around the building a time or two, just to get a feel for the bike under me. After the first lap I was ready to ride; the FJ just felt so good under me.

I accelerated out of the parking lot, and immediately started grinning. The get-up-and-go of the bike reminded me of my SV1000, instantly powering up and with great power through the entire rev range. Steering, the bike glides effortlessly, going exactly where you want it. The brakes slow the bike down, stopping it quickly and without fussiness.

The instrument cluster is easy to read. I am not a fan of the windscreen, as the air hit me in the throat or the top of my helmet, depending on the adjustment. Still, that would be an easy fix, I am sure. Another neat little design item is the exhaust, whick is just a little port off the starboard side (watch out for x-wing fighters!).

All in all, this was a FUN bike to ride. I am not sure how it would perform on longer, multi-day rides, because of its size, but for a daily commuter or canyon carver, the FJ-09 would be tough to beat for all around performance and torquey fun. Throw in traction control at this price point and you have a real winner.

Test Ride: KTM 1190 Adventure

What a great looking bike! I have always been partial to orange, since my first bike was the burnt copper penny Suzuki SV1000. 

The bike comes with ABS Brembo brakes and traction control, plus multiple throttle settings, including one for wet pavement, which dampens the "enthusiasm" of the throttle control. Starting the bike brings the 1190 to life, and a healthy growl comes from under the seat, like a bear that's been woken up juuuuust a little too early from hibernation. The KTM's cockpit is well thought out, and everything is VERY readable and also customizable. One niggle - this thing has the tiniest handgrips ever. Fatter grips would be a must.

The KTM is a bigger bike, and you know it immediately. While the Moto Guzzi Stelvio was heavy, it didn't feel like it; the tall stature  of the KTM makes this size and weight immediately apparent. I was able to put the balls of my feet down, but could not flat-foot the bike. It would be interesting and  necessary to ride the bike with a full tank of gas to get a feel for just how important this is. 

Rolling, the larger feel of the KTM  is apparent at low speeds, and parking lot maneuvering at low speed operation would feel like work. But, once you get the revs up, the weight magically disappears. I only rode in standard mode, as opposed to sport (which offers a more spirited ride), and the bike responded very well. 

YCH only has a very short test ride area, and getting out farther would be a good test of how good this bike truly is. I found it above adequate for the ride I was taking, but a quick hustle through some twisties in sport mode would be a must for me. Still, I got the sense this bike can do it all, without complaint, and, indeed, would be a fun ride. 

There are ongoing questions about KTM's reliability (sounds funny coming from a guy who is considering a Ducati) and that might be enough to put me off, and, at the very least, are worthy of further investigation.

Still, this one makes the list for consideration

Test Ride: Moto Guzzi Stelvio NTX

I sold the Triumph Tiger 800 and have begun my quest for the new steed. I am looking for something that is sporty for the twisties and comfortable for longer, multi-day rides. I went over to Europa Macchina in Lewisberry. They are, quite honestly, some of the nicest people I have met, passionate about heir business, but also genuinely interested in what I was looking for. They answered all of my questions about the brand and the bike.

Sitting Down

Sitting on the bike, I had a really nice surprise. Most reviews will tell you the bike feels heavy, almost obscenely so, but I didn't feel that at all. The bike felt extremely well-balanced at rest, and was easily manhandled to where I needed it. I am 6 feet tall, and can easily flat foot the bike. I did find the position almost a little tight in leg space, and I would wonder if there is a higher seat position. That was weird. The dash is very well laid out and attractive, with everything right where you want it.

The mirrors are adequate (though they shake at speed, again, something that is documented in many reports. A lot of people get the European package on the mirrors, which increases size and decreases shaking). The bike is very well outfitted, with Trax bags, high-power auxiliary lights, bash guard under the bike, and hand guards standard. It's everything you need for a proper adventure!

Starting Up

A simple twist of the key and push of the starter and the oil-cooled 1151cc engine comes to life. It's mounted across the bike, rather than in a straight line, so it feels a little funny as the pistons fire across the bike. People will say you either love it or hate it - I loved it. A twist of the throttle and you realize there is something alive under the seat. I LOVED the sound of this bike. 

The Ride

Europa has a good situation, with a quick flat road to get the bike under you, then a bunch of twisties, so you can stretch it out. I said the weight of the bike wasn't a big deal for me, but it immediately disappears when the wheels start turning. The bike has quick pickup, but not raucously so, and it is a linear acceleration that is predictable. One of the strange things is the feel of the engine at 3500RPM. It has a vaguely unnatural side to side pull you can feel. 

Out in the curves, the bike rolls right through. It is predictable and easy to throw around. There is a point in this part of the experience where people usually fall in love with a bike. Or not. For me, it was a not. The bike starts to get "interesting" around 6000 RPM and redlines at about 8000. That means that as soon as I entered the "fun zone" I had to start thinking about shifting back out of it. The bike does not have a lot of grunt/torque (having had a Suzuki SV1000, I suspect I was more than a little spoiled), and it's that missing piece that really makes it a no for me. 

My goal is to do a lot of mixed riding, touring and hitting the twisties around the rural roads of southcentral Pennsylvania. If all I were doing was touring, heading cross country, especially if it was on and off road, this bike would definitely be on the list. But, the Stelvio's lack of enthusiasm, especially in the curves, takes it off the list. 

Next!

Close Shave

I took a nice hot shower, hotter than normal. I washed my face with a good soap I had bought from Sunrise Soap, a tiny little soap shop on Beaver Street in York. Getting out of the shower, I picked up a package of razor blades, figuring that, if it worked out that it was going to take a bunch of tries to find "my razor blade" that grabbing one randomly was as good a way as any to decide.

I filled the sink with mildly hot water, the steam rising off the surface in light wisps, splashed some water on my face, dipped the shaving brush into the sink and started working up a lather on my face. I used the orange cream and the smell was incredibly good. One of the things I am really coming to enjoy is the smells of my morning routine. In fact, it has expanded to a multi-sensory experience, now, and the brush sweeping back and forth across my face, the feel of the lather building into a thick, creamy texture, and the smell of orange filling the room were a great way to enter into the next chapter of shaving.

I carefully unwrapped the blade and put it into the razor handle.

There was a moment, putting blade to face, where I considered the wisdom of the course of action I was taking. I mean, I am fully competent with the cartridge blades. Did it really make sense to do this?  Well, no guts, no glory. I used the short, abrupt, non-overlapping strokes recommended in the shaving videos and got my upper face done without incident. On to the neck. Dragging the blade across my neck was a little disconcerting, but the blade just glided across the skin.

I repeated the lather and shaved across the grain, using the same small, non-overlapping strokes. I finished with minor nicks and put on the Platinum Aftershave....

OH MY GAWD! I was completely unprepared for the napalm-like experience of putting this on my just-shaved face. Like Gollum with an Elvish rope or Damien with Holy water, all I could think is, "IT BURNS US! IT BURNS US!" And for one minute or so (that's a long time - believe me) it showed NO sign of abating. I actually considered washing it off, but waited it out until it started to calm, and then it was absolute bliss. My shave was complete, and I have to say I really enjoyed it.

Shaving...It's Worth Doing Right

I got this bee in my bonnet a couple of weeks ago, after going to the local store and for the thousandth time in my life, buying a four-pack of razors. I didn't think much about it until I got to checkout and the clerk gave me a dollar and change out of a twenty. At first I thought there was some mistake. Twenty bucks a month seems a little steep, no? Especially for these dinky little things. Cigarettes would have cost less.

So, I gritted my teeth, went home, and shaved (Note to self: Don't Shave Angry. Nothing good can come from that). But I thought there must be a better way, so I hopped on Facebook and asked my friends about their impressions of Dollar Shave Club and they came back favorable. Cheap. Easy. Efficient.

But then my buddy Brad jumped on and said I should consider an old school safety razor. I was, frankly, intrigued. Surely a guy who shaves his face and head with a safety razor must know a thing or two...right? And, I do like the Old School (I wish men still wore hats and stood when a woman entered the room), so I thought I would poke around and see what I could find. One of my favorite things about the Intarwebz (thanks, Al Gore!) is that, for whatever bizarre, obscure information you are looking, there are dozens of sites where people are anonymously clicking and clacking away in conversations.

Enter The Wicked Edge, a chat forum dedicated to wet shaving, safety razors, shaving creams and oils, and the kind of minutiae that will alternately enthrall you and drive you mad. I loved it instantly. Vintage razor discussions. How to strop a straight razor. What does The Kraken Smell like? The place has an almost mentorship mentality, with a lot of guys teaching younger guys and newbies like myself the fine art and science of shaving. I was quickly schooled in the pros, cons, and dangers (that was ultimately, I suspect, what sealed it for me) of wet shaving.

I also found a great video on how to shave. One of the things I learned was that I wasn't building a proper lather. That became abundantly clear after watching this particular video.

I was so excited that I ran upstairs to shave. Mrs. Fishr was sitting in bed reading, and seemed a little confused at my sudden appearance.
She: What are you doing?
Me: Shaving!!!
She: Um. You know it's 11.00, right?
Me: But I just learned something, and now I need to do it!
So, off I flew to the bathroom as she turned back to her book, presumably rolling her eyes at my antics, yet again.

I decided to go with Maggard Shaving, a husband and wife team out of Detroit Michigan who offer, by many accounts, fantastic stuff at great prices. I got a mid-priced beginner's set that I can grow with if I like it, but that won't break the bank if I decide otherwise. Mine came with a Parker 26C Razor, a handmade Italian Boar Bristle Shaving Brush by Omega, two aftershave tonics, a multipak of blades (it takes a bunch of trial and error to find the best blade for your face), a stiptic pen (yeah. you'll want one of those), ad an amazing smelling orange shaving cream. It arrived in a couple of days, easy-peasy, lemon-squeazy.

I opened it up like it was Christmas Day and I was getting my Official Red Ryder, carbine action, 200 shot range, model air rifle. And there it was in all it's glory.

Learning to Fly...

Into the distance, a ribbon of black

Stretched to the point of no turning back

A flight of fancy on a windswept field

Standing alone my senses reeled

A fatal attraction is holding me fast,

How can I escape this irresistible grasp?

There's no sensation to compare with this...

Thirty-five years ago, I rode my first motorcycle. I was 12, and my buddy's parents had bought him a small dirt bike. We took turns writing it in circles around his house. It was AWESOME... Until I went home and my mother smacked me with a wooden spoon, exclaiming in her Irish brogue,"You're never to ride a bike, ever again!" There are, of course, those people who would look at this as a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down as an invitation to fight, an obstacle to overcome in order to take a defiant step into manhood. Those people never lived with my mother.

So that was that. But I never forgot it. It was like something awakening inside of me, each spring. My mother was born in Dublin, Ireland and left home at the age of 15 to travel through Europe and eventually land in America, settling in New Jersey by way of New York. She gave me the blessing of loving to cook and the curse of a wanderlust that never seems quite satisfied. And every spring, I feel it again, made all the more powerful because of the latent effects of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)

My wife J. greenlighted the endeavor, having long ago resigned herself to being married to a guy who gets ideas in his head and realizing the only way for me to get them out is to purge them through activity. So, two years ago, I decided to take the PA Motorcycle Safety Course. The advantages of the course are many:

• The course is FREE!
• The course is taught by people who have been riding longer than I've been alive
• They provide a motorcycle, so if you drop it, it's still theirs
• At the end of the course, you get your Motorcycle License
• Did I mention it's FREE?!?

There are two days of rather droll classroom instruction, but I realized it is the kind of thing that is going to help me ride a motorcycle and quite possibly save me from bodily harm. So, I forced myself to pay attention, practicing the barely contained patience of a kid on Christmas Eve. And then, I got to sit on a real motorcycle for the first time in 35 years. and start it up. And I knew, as soon as I sparked those 250ccs of pure Suzuki power to life, that something also came to life inside of me. And, I was hooked. Forever.

A New Start...

Here's the thing. I realized, thanks to a number of recent influences, that I haven't done much of anything that involves creativity in a long while. Then, my wife started cooking. My brother-in-law started a blog (and wrote a novel!). A high school friend from days gone by recently connected with me and she's a full-time (no longer starving) artist. And my daughter...well, at 17, she is one of the most creative people I know, and continues to inspire me. 

There was a time when I spent a good deal of time writing, painting, and drawing, even considering it as a career for myself. It's quite unlikely I am going to be the next Hemingway, but I also want to get back in touch with that creative side. 

50 Things To Do When You're Sick

My daughter is sick. She is bored. So here is her list of 50 things to do when you're sick:
1) Watch Spanish soap operas and shoot Nerf guns at the villains. 
2) Make an origami bird
3) Make origami binoculars to look at your origami bird
4) crumple the origami binoculars - Bam! Origami snake!
5) Grow a cat from scratch
6) get hopped up on your meds and prank call your parents at work
7) wash your dog so he doesn't smell like a cracker
8) Pretend to be a doctor and shine a flashlight down your throat as you say "Ahhhhh"...
9) Start a fake disease, claim you have, then set up a website accepting donations for a cure
10) Find the Elder Wand
11) Wear your dog as a hat; cats work too....sometimes. 
12) Microwave a Peep and see what happens. 
13) Glue a sock to our nose and pretend to be an elephant
14) ask a parent what they thought was funny back in the day on TV, then see if you can find it funny. For example:http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=Gs1ljs5Acig&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DGs1ljs5Acig
15) Shave a bear
16) Pretend you are a tiger waiting for your prey, then pounce on the mailman and ATTACK! 
17) write a story
18) pretend you're a tornado and rampage through the house. 
19) Pretend you're a tomato and sits in a bowl
20) Translate what your pets are saying
21) Text your friends. A lot. So when they turn their phone on at lunch, it blows up. 
22) throw things to the squirrels. Or at the squirrels. 
23) Adventure Time Marathon!
24) Spend some time upside down...unless you have the stomach flu. That's where it gets "interesting"...
25) Paint your nails
26) Repaint your nails 
27) Exfoliate your dog
28) Organize your room....yes, my father came up with that one. Yarg.
29) Walk and text at the same time
30) Get your Zombiepocalypse plan in order 
31) Get your life plan together - but only AFTER you have done #30
32) color your pet's hair
33) Color in a coloring book - it's more soothing than you think
34) Hit stuffs with a hammer - also oddly soothing
35) Name your teeth
36) Write a letter 
37) Draw a picture to go with the letter
38) draw a picture of what you think the germs that are making you sick look like
39) Look them up on the Intarwebz and see if you were right
40) Call QVC and start a conversation with the operator
41) Sue someone - bonus points if her name is Sue
42) Organize your shoes....oooooh, forgot I had those!
43) Type with your nose...I just typed that with my nose
44) Make a treasure map
45) Play hide and seek with yourself 
46) Create a pillow fort 
47) Make up an accent and speak like that all day long, including when you call QVC
48) Make yourself a picnic
49) Pretend you're a dinosaur and stomp through the house 
50) Make a crazy list

LiveSTRONG 2012 Ride Report -- Epilogue

Paul and I grabbed a quick bite, then went our separate ways. I had a great time riding with him, and I am grateful to him and my brother and eternal riding partner, Patfish Hunter, who has done every Challenge with me. I missed the people who could not be there, Jennifer, Michael, Kurt, Sean, Randy, George and Brad.


The ride home is always a cramp-fest, with quads, calves, and even my lower back seizing up. It's always been that way, and this trip was no different. I came home to an empty house as Mrs. Fish had taken Li' Fish over to church. I stretched, got a shower, stretched, cleaned up my gear and stretched. Mrs. Fish came home and I just hugged her, grateful to have had the last amazing 19 years with her.

Then I had to go pick up Li'l Fish. I walked into church and a lot of the youth group were really happy to see me and then I heard "DADDY!" It was the same voice I heard six years ago when I finished my first Challenge, and an eight-year-old Li'l Fish came bobbing across the parking lot into the arms of her daddy. Tonight, a young woman looked me almost eye-to-eye, and I realized just how much she has grown since that first Challenge, and just how much I have been given in these six years.

I am blessed...

LiveSTRONG 2012 Ride Report -- Part VI

Paul and I quickly fell in with Andy, a foul-mouthed guy from Plymouth Meeting. He said he was riding for his friend who had died from intestinal cancer. Andy wanted to remember him properly, and he thought the ride would be the ticket. He was skilled rider, and strong on the climbs. He could also curse a blue-streak that would embarrass a Marine. At one point, he said, "I'm not a #$*&ing religous guy" and I replied, I am. He asked why, and I told him my story, and he agreed he could see, maybe, how God was working in my life. It was an interesting moment. Interestingly, when he pulled up next to us, I was wondering how much longer I was going to have to ride with this #$*&ing guy, and when we separated, I honestly wished it would have lasted longer. God does continue His work....

The LiveSTRONG Challenge does bring out both the best and the worst in people (it's a lot like cancer in that way). Readers of this blog might remember how I almost got into a fight with a Prius guy two years ago (STORY HERE). As Paul and I pushed into the last 20 miles, a guy in a convertible BMW rolled by heading the opposite direction, raised his hand (or, more accurately, one-fifth of his hand) and gave us a "salute". I can only assume our ride to beat cancer had ruined his afternoon drive. Paul asked me if anyone had ever, in the history of cycling, received that "salute" and just decided in that moment that, "You know what? Gosh darnit, you're right. I really need to stop riding my bicycle because it's ruining the drives of all these people in their fancy cars."
Ummmmm...no. No cyclist ever has.
The irony is that, in a BMW convertible, flipping the bird to people actually exposes it to sunlight. Which causes cancer. The irony was not lost on me. Or Paul.

Mile after mile, Paul and I pedaled onward. The last section of the ride actually looks very similar. Hills, rolling hills. And more rolling hills. They're not big hills, but they are consistent. We call them rollers. Up and down the rollers we went. It affords you time to think, and for me, I have always used this time to think about the people I have known through cancer. this year, I spent a lot of time thinking about the man who would have been my father-in-law. He passed away shortly before Mrs. Fish and I started dating, and I was sad that he never got to see what an amazing woman she has become. Even sadder, he never got to meet Li'l Fish, and to see just how amazing she is. I can't help but wonder at how cancer had robbed him of this, and robbed us of that experience.

And then Paul and I rolled over the last hill and I was looking down at the bottom of the hill and the area where the finish line was. It always catches me a little off guard, because it's so unexpected. After dozens of hills, you're suddenly...DONE. Paul and I coast down the hill and he heads left in the supporter's chute, I go right into the Survivor's chute, and for the sixth time, the announcer says:

NOW FINISHING, ROB DUFFIELD -- SURVIVOR!

LiveSTRONG 2012 Ride Report -- Part V

The other thing that I discovered about Dave was that his sister and brother-in-law own the Landis Store. The Landis Store is the most epic of rest stops, located at roughly the halfway point, and you have to ride the 100 mile route to get there. It is also located at the top of a 1 mile climb that is incredibly steep at points. Honestly, it's the climb that puts the "Challenge" in the LiveSTRONG Challenge. At the top of that climb, the Landis Store offers live music, chicken and rice soup and the friendliest volunteers on the course. It's a party! I always think of the Landis Store fondly, because it was so special to my friend Kurt, and I was thinking of him as I was talking to Dave. Sadly, he could not ride with us this year, due to an injury. Toughen up, and we'll see you next year, Kurt. I gave Dave a BUTNZ! for himself, and one for his sister, for all of her hospitality over the years.

We pulled into the next rest stop and Pat, Paul and I regrouped. We quickly refueled and got back on the rode. Pat had committed to the 45 mile ride and Paul and I were still undecided. We got right back into the swing of things, when all of a sudden, we came up to a fork in the road, and it was decision time. Go left and do the 45 mile ride. Or go right and shoot for 70 miles. Paul and I were still feeling really good, so we decided we were going right. Pat was ready to head for home. It was really strange, because I honestly thought we had more time (I think in life we always think we have more time, until suddenly we don't). We said a quick goodbye, and I was saddened that our time together was over so quickly, so suddenly, and without any warning.Paul and I rode on, but I was feeling a bit melancholy.

The miles rolling steadily under our wheels cured me of my melancholy, slowly but surely like an old-time tonic. I like to see old friends, and you actually see people you remember. Jon's Crew, a group of people who ride in remembrance of their friend, were there again this year. On one significant hill (are you getting a picture of the course, or do I need to emphasize that there were hills on it?), I pulled a BUTNZ! out of my jersey and held it up, so the people cheering at the top of the hill could see that I was going to toss it. As I did so, one of the guys yelled, "Are you Team Fish?"
"YES!" I said as I tossed the BUTNZ! and rode past, wondering how the heck he could know who we were.
"We have five of your BUTNZ!", he shouted as I rode on. He had come out with his family every year I have ridden, and because they are alone at the top of a really hard hill, shouting, cheering and ringing cowbells, they really stood out. So year after year, I tossed them BUTNZ!. Very cool! He actually has a Team Fish rookie BUTNZ!

I came up along another rider and we got to talking. He was riding on a bike clearly marked with IronMan stickers, and I thought that was pretty cool. His name was Steve, and it turns out he was not an IronMan. He was riding in memory of his father-in-law, Ira, who was a seven-time IronMan. The family had taken to calling him "Ira"nMan, and it was a joke they thought was pretty funny. Ira passed away suddenly from a heart attack this year, and Steve and the family were looking for a way to honor him, when they saw the LiveSTRONG Challenge. They realized this was exactly the type of challenge Ira would have loved -- physically demanding and also finding a way to give back. I thanked him for coming out, and choosing the Challenge to remember Ira.

We separated and I saw another guy riding alone, pedalled up and introduced myself. He asked about my dignosis and I told him my story, then he told me about his friend, the smartest guy he ever knew. They were in high school together, and had stayed friends over the years. Sadly, his friend was claimed by brain cancer, leaving behind his wife and two kids, aged 4 and 8. As he told me about it, he choked up, and it was clear how fresh all of this was, how unresolved his emotions were, but he said he and his friends were coming together in meaningful ways to help the family, and to honor their friend. It amazes me how much stronger this disease makes us, and also those who are left behind. It's one of the reasons I think we are going to beat this disease someday. Instead of despair, cancer awakens something within us, those who fight the disease and win, and those who are left behind after someone passes. It teaches who we are and what we are capable of, and it is simply astounding.

Paul and I rounded a turn, and I told him the next hill was going to be challenging, emphasizing the word in such a way as to let him know that, perhaps, those last 30+ miles of hills weren't in the same arena as this one. I remember this hill. As we started to climb, I actually started feeling better. My legs were under me and I rode up the hill, passing people as I went. I looked back and saw Paul was doing pretty well on the hill as well. I could tell it was putting "the hurt"on him, but he was powering through, slow and steady, grinding out the pavement.

We got to the top, and it was again decision time. Left for 70 miles or straight for 100 miles. Amazingly, we had made the cutoff time. Wisdom is the better part of valor, and we actually opted for the 70 mile course. I didn't feel defeated. I didn't feel disappointed. Seventy was my initial goal, and I was sticking to it. Paul was totally on board, so we would ride the second half of the Challenge together, all the way to the finish.

We rode down chip sealed roads (a nightmare), potholed roads (even worse) and silky smooth asphalt (the old hyms talk of Heaven's roads being paved with gold, but I know it's going to be a fresh coat of asphalt), arriving at the next rest area, which I remember as "The Worst Rest Stop in the World". I think it was the first year I did the Challenge. I stopped here and the volunteers seemed disinterested, there was very little to eat, and there was nothing going on. This is Sparta. Or, at best, Sparta-like.Even more disappointing, this stop is at a Fire Station, and I was riding in memory of a friend's son, a fireman who was killed tragically in a car crash. I couldn't help but think about how disappointed Donnie, the young man who was killed, would have been, and how different it would have been had he been in charge of things here. Fast-forward to this year, and I have to think Donnie's spirit informed the organizers of their shortcomings in this area, because there was an immediate change in feel to the stop. As soon as we pulled in, there was a six-year old kid running up and giving all of the riders high fives and congratulating them for getting this far.
"Were you in the Tour de France?" He kept asking all of the riders as this question as they pulled in, and they, of course, said, "No, no. Not me."
Until I got there.
"Yes," I said. I was! And it was awesome! Did you see me?"
"Yeah. You were on TV!"
"You're right! That was me! Thanks so much for all of your help. I really appreciate it, buddy! Here's a BUTNZ!"
He was overjoyed. I was too. It was a beautiful moment, and one I will cherish for a long time.

Paul and I saddled up and pedaled out of the stop. I felt really good.

LiveSTRONG 2012 Ride Report -- Part IV

And so, we were off. Like a herd of turtles. The first chute out of the parking lot is a slow affair, but I am fine with that because low-speed crashes rarely cause major damage. Patfish, Paul and I rode out together, onto the streets of Montgomery County. There is a moment where, as you start out, you want to do the entire ride as quickly as possible. You can always tell the first-timers by their enthusiasm and how quickly they go out of the gates. As an experienced rider, I remembered to hold back a little and just ride at a steady, somewhat restrained pace.

The first couple of miles are surprisingly difficult. Your body needs to remember how to ride, and until that happens, you actually feel winded. It's a little disconcerting, to be sucking for oxygen in the first couple of miles, but I have been to this rodeo before. My body started to settle in, and Pat and Paul and I fell into a nice, easy cadence.

The weather was absolutely beautiful. In fact, I was actually a little chilled for the first couple of miles, and unusual feeling for the LiveSTRONG event. The first couple of years I did it, the weather went to triple digits, with what had to be more than 90% humidity. We have also ridden in lightning storms, windy conditions, and a torrential downpour that caused a crash in the hills. By contrast, it was slated to be in the mid-70s, and I was ecstatic. This was, hands-down, the best weather we have EVER had.

The course starts with a series of rolling hills and we rolled up and down those hills. We talked about Paul's huge transformation from pudgy, out of shape guy to marathon-running, healthy-eating, clean living dad. We talked about Pat's kids, the coolest twins on the planet. It was good to reconnect with them in this venue. One of the things I realized last year was just how lonely the training regimen is for LiveSTRONG. There are a lot of empty miles on the road, getting into shape for an event of this magnitude. This year, I didn't train nearly as hard, and I was using this easy time at the beginning of the ride to decide whether to ride the 45 mile course or the 70 mile course. I knew I would pay for it on the ride (and especially AFTER the ride, if I went for the longer ride).

The way it's laid out, you get to checkpoints and you can decide how you feel, and if you want to go left for the shorter course or right for the longer course. Additionally, each time you take the longer course, it also gets progressively harder with longer and steeper climbs. Paul was asking me about the 100 mile course, and I was thinking about how best to temper some of that enthusiasm, so I explained the course options and then simply told him to take a wait and see attitutde at each of the checkpoints.

We got to the first refueling station and I needed to get water and Gatorade. In my haste to get everything squared away at the beginning of the ride, I hadn't made the time to fill my bottles. Still, I knew there was a station in the first fifteen miles and that I could borrow from Pat or Paul if I got into trouble. I did not need to do that, so I quickly got my liquids squared away, grabbed a banana and a peanut butter sandwich, and we got back on the bike. My experience has taught me to eat early in the event, because it's harder to eat as the day goes on. The banana has potassium which helps prevent cramps later on, so I made sure to eat that.

As always, the volunteers were AWESOME! It takes hundreds of people to put on an event like this, and the simple act of cutting bananas, making sandwiches and mixing Gatorade has not gone unnoticed. I always make a point of thanking the volunteers, because their support is so critical to this event.

Another on of my favorite things is the spectators that come out to cheer on the riders. They are so enthusiastic, and it is simply contagious. Even better is when an entire family comes out to cheer us on. My buddy Kurt makes BUTNZ! (check him out at www.butnz.com) with the Team Fish logo and we toss them out along the course. The volunteers love them, and Pat, Paul and I also make a point of tossing them to the kids. 

Off we went, riding forward. Always forward. I like to ask other riders what brings them to the event. At one point, I met up with Dave, a two-year colon cancer survivor. We talked about our experience and he asked my how I knew I had cancer. I told him my story, how the doctor had found a lump after I had told him I was having some pain. I thought it was simply due to riding too much, but then I found that was not the case and my whole life changed. He told me how he felt that he was not urinating properly, that something just seemed "off" and so he decided to go see his doctor. It probably saved his life. He is my age, so routine checkups were still five years away. It would have been too late. We lamented how men in particular seem to be reluctant to go to the doctor when things seem wrong. He talked about how many men he has talked into going to see the doctor.

If something seems OFF, GO SEE A DOCTOR. Please!

LiveSTRONG 2012 Ride Report -- Part III

We assembled in a multi-colored sea of spandex, covering the parking lot. Honestly, I don't see this many fit people all year, and to see them in one place, for one cause, is incredibly humbling (I'm not as fit as most of the people there) and inspiring (I COULD be as fit as them). And, if you're a bike fan, it's doubly cool. The colors of the skittle-explosion Colnago, deep blue Trek Madones (I hear Trek makes good bikes), orange marmalade Orbeas, Celeste (my Lownje friends know it as seafoam) Bianchis, and even the irony of a blue LeMonde (he was the American cyclist who initially accused Lance of doping). All of them were assembled to fight cancer and to ride with a legend and a hero.

Lance Armstrong is a tool. There. I said it. It doesn't feel good to say it. But I said it. Allow me to explain. At the start of the ride, Lance always takes a few moments to address the crowd. It's always been one of the highlights of the event for me. As a cyclist and cancer survivor, I get to hear a guy who overcame cancer to win, arguably, the hardest bike race in the world. Seven Times. Consecutively.

So when that happens, I expect to hear something special. After all, I am standing with more than 3,000 people who have given their time, their energy, their resources, and their money to raise $1.7 million and be part of an event that bears, in part, the name of this miraculous person. And then he tells us, "I was going to ride the 100 miles with you, but I got tied up with a wedding party in the hotel last night, and, well, that's a different story."

Allow me to translate: "I stayed out too late last night, I got way too drunk, and now I am really just a little too hungover to ride the full 100 miles." Philadelphia is no bump in the road for this event. It's the most important fundraising city in the LiveSTRONG tour of events. And I wonder if there are corporate people who pay even more to be part of that ride. Lance would know. Or should know.

And so, Lance, I'd like to take a brief moment to give you a little advice. I am going to give you 1.7 million reasons why you might NOT want to do something so stupid, ever again. Because when you say something like that, what you're saying is that those people who showed up to ride in your event really aren't as important as the enjoyment you were feeling in that moment, the hedonistic pleasures of crashing a wedding. And that's really not a good idea. For 1.7 million reasons. Seriously.

I think it's important to say this doesn't change my thoughts about doing this ride. I will always raise money to fight cancer because I had cancer, and now I don't and the reason is that people raised money to fund research so I could be here today. But, it does change my thoughts about how I think Lance thinks about those who come out to the event. Or, more accurately, it gives a little insight into how he might NOT think about those people. And that's a mistake. Because that's what a tool would do.

There. Now that's out of the way.

The start of the ride is settled into three large groups -- those riding 100 miles, those riding 45 miles and those riding 20 miles or less. Paul (he really needs a Fish name) and Pat and I started in the 100 mile group. It's something we have done since the very first Ride. Initially, it was because we were shooting to do 100 miles, but I quickly realized it's also the group that starts first, so you actually get out ahead of the other groups. This gives you a little more room, and a little more time. Which is important because there are 3,000 other people looking for room.

True to form, people were crashing right at the beginning of the ride. I imagine that it's pretty embarrassing to crash before you even reach the start line. So Pat, Paul and I stayed back to keep our bikes and dignity (relatively speaking) intact. As we approached the start line, the announcer was commenting on the riders. I rode right next to him and yealled, "Team Fish!!!" and he announced our team as we started out on the journey, to the clickity, clickity clack of spinning chains and shifting gears.

LiveSTRONG 2012 Ride Report -- Part II

I am an early riser by nature. It has been that way for so long I honestly can't remember the last time I slept in. So, it was no surprise when I woke up feeling pretty well-rested at 5.30 am. I laid in bed in that beautiful fugue state between sleep and wakefulness, contemplating the day ahead. I have a friend, Steve, who says he prays in the morning and he pictures God going before him to prepare those places. It's a simple and beautiful prayer, and one I used that morning.

Fortunately, I did not go back to sleep, because my wakeup call never came. I wandered next door to bang on Patfish's door, and it's a good thing I did that, too, because his alarm clock failed to go off. We saddled up our gear, loaded our car and went to the lobby as they had free breakfast. In talking with Jessie the day before, she said breakfast might be a problem at that hour but there would still be bagels, cereal and the like. Patfish and I found the bagels and helped ourselves. Oddly, there was nothing to grab them with, so I just reached in a nd grabbed one, careful not to grab any others.

"Hey," came a voice behind us. "You can't grab those bagels!" Someone was clearly upset.
"What," I replied.
"You can't just grab those bagels! Breakfast doesn't start until 7 o'clock"
"I'll be gone by then."
"And you're supposed to use the tongs!"
"There were no tongs."
"That's because we don't set them out until 7 o'clock."
All I could say was, "Really?"
"Yes, really. You can't help yourself, you need to make special arrangements with the front desk if you want early breakfast."
"Ummmmm. I did."
She harumphed and glared at me. Yes, she glared at me. And Patfish.
And then I thought, "What are they going to do, kick me out?"
"Thanks for the bagels" I said, smiled and left.

Getting to the event is supposed to be easy. And it would have been, except for two critical facts. First, I was following Patfish and he wasn't sure where we were going. Second, I need coffee in the morning. Non-coffee drinkers will never, ever, no matter how desperately you implore them, understand this need. Patfish is not a coffee drinker. So, when I say, I need "coffee" I think, inherent in that fact, is the understanding that if I don't get said coffee, bad things will happen. To me or to you. When I realized we were lost AND there was a chance I would NOT get coffee, I took charge. I pulled him over, took the lead and went on my quest for coffee. Fortunately, we quickly found coffee (Dunkin' Donuts, FTW!) and DeKalb Pike, which leads straight to the ride site. Winning.

My buddy, Paul, had driven down to meet us. He had texted (the wonders of technology - how did we do these things before cell phones?) that he was there and we quickly found each other in the bike corral.

Team Fish had assembled for the Sixth Annual Team Fish LiveSTRONG Ride (It's NOT a Race!).

LiveSTRONG 2012 Ride Report -- Part I

I just finished my sixth LiveSTRONG Event. Each year, it coincides, roughly, with the anniversary of my diagnosis with testicular cancer. I am one of the lucky ones. I am a survivor. So I get to live my life, and part of my role as a survivor has been wrapped up helping to fight this horrible disease. I choose to raise money for the LiveSTRONG Foundation (www.laf.org) and ride my bicycle as far as I can. So I trucked down to Philadelphia on Saturday to pick up my race packet and get the goods for Team Fish.


One of the most important things I do every year is take a list of the names of those affected by cancer, the people my supporters have asked me to remember on this day. I add those names to the Wall of Remembrance. Every year, the list gets a little longer. Still, it seemed I noticed more people who are fighting and winning this year.

People sometimes ask me about where the money goes and if does any good. Less than 50 years ago, what I had was considered a death sentence. Now, it has a 95% survival rate. Look at the statistics of colon cancer, breast cancer and so many others, and you'll see a similar trend. According to one study in 1997, one in 4 patients survived cancer in the 1940s. Just two decades later, that figure jumped to one in three. Today, we are at more than 50% survival rates. And, those with the disease are experiencing an improved quality of life while under treatment; surgery is less radical; and even chemotherapy is producing fewer side effects. We are learning about this disease, and because we are learning, we are winning. It's one of the basic tenets of the LAF: Knowledge is Power.

After posting the names of those friends and family members, I registered for my team. Fortunately, I got there right under the wire. As always, the volunteers were friendly and AWESOME! I love the volunteers at the LiveSTRONG event and realize just how integral they are to the success of the event. Nadia and Amanda took quick care of me, got my registration packets together and I was off to the hotel.

 I stayed in a completely different place this year. For the first four years, I went down to the area and stayed with my mother-in-law. Last year she got sick, so I stayed in a hotel right next to where she was staying so I could stop in and say hello. Sadly, she passed away this year, so I stayed at a Hilton Homewood Suites a little closer to the event. Jessie, the girl behind the desk, checked me in and I was set.

My brother, "Patfish Hunter", showed up close to dinnertime. Pat has ridden with me in ALL SIX EVENTS and I am so glad to have him ride with me. We went out to carbo-load for dinner at Boca, a nice Italian Restaurant with good food and exceptionally slow service. Note to Italian restaurants: add extra staff on LiveSTRONG weekend. Just sayin'.

Coming back to the hotel, we settled in to watch Stars Earn Stripes (which was surprisingly excellent) and then called it a night. I set up my wake-up call for 6.00 am and then settled in for a remarkably deep and comfortable night's sleep. I don't usually sleep well on the road, so this was a great exception.

ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........

iPAD Case by Portenzo

I got an iPad2 for my birthday/Christmas present this year, and plan to use it for business (it's a GREAT tool for salespeople) as well as fun. Then I began the search for a case to wrap around it. I am, by nature, a person who researches things to find exactly what I want before I buy it. I read multiple online reviews of just about pretty much every case you could buy for the iPAD until I found the Portenzo, the reviews of which were very nearly unanimously positive.

So, I decided to investigate a little deeper. I had several questions so I contacted Darin, the guy who runs Portenzo. Yes, the owner of the company answers his own e-mail. His responses were quick and thorough, and I felt I could proceed with confidence. Let me tell you why I decided to buy from Darin.

In comparisons, the Portenzo was a little more expensive than the mass-produced Made in China models I saw everywhere, but not by much, honestly. The Portenzo case is hand made, to order, and you can choose the outside cover color and material as well as the inside colors and materials. It's also made in America. Seriously. When was the last time you were even ABLE to buy something handmade in America?

Second, there is something artistic about Portenzo cases. The case is made in the style of a Moleskine notebook (Dodo Cases are similar, but reviews were sketchy on how well they hold up), which I have always found to be classy and elegant, and also serves to disguise the computer to help prevent theft. Quite simply, it is beautiful. The leather is luxurious, the inside fabric is vibrant (I ordered the blue) and it is unique in its iPad presentation.


Last, the details are just a little more thought out (a stylus holder) and the attention to detail is almost perfect. The strap on my case covers the camera on the back, providing one more level of protection). The only quibble I have, and it's a small one, is that the volume controls are hard to adjust.

Like I said, you may pay a little more for a Portenzo case. But what you will receive is a well designed, well thought out, well constructed, Made in America work of beauty. Check it at www.portenzo.com

Feeding the Homeless - Not What I Expected

Mrs. Fish and I went out on Friday night last week to feed the homeless. There is a local Mission in Harrisburg, where young men and women can stay to get back on their feet. They have a van to reach those people who don't want to stay at the Mission and it carries hot food out to the homeless throughout the city. They need volunteers to help man the van so we signed up with another woman from our church.

I honestly didn't know what to expect. The van leaves at about 8pm drives to places where the homeless congregate, with about 10 stops throughout the night, across the city. At each stop, Mrs. Fish and another volunteer passed out blankets and clothes, including gloves, socks, underwear and sweaters. There was sometimes a rush, and sometimes scuffling, but they did well to keep things going smoothly. It was cold out, but not frigid/freezing, but that weather is surely coming and the warm supplies will be more and more important.

When we stopped, I jumped in the back of the van and grabbed the soup crates and set up a mini mobile serving area. I then started passing out toiletries including razors, shaving cream, soap, wash cloths. Then, I got on the soup ladle to pass out hot soup and pour hot coffee. On a night like that, it was very much appreciated. All of this set up and activity also gave me a chance to talk to the people as they came up, to hear their stories. It was humbling.

Carl, the Mobile Mission leader, has a rapport with the people of the city and a knowledge of where they are. It's weird, I have worked in the city for 15 years and never really saw the places he took us to. I mean, I had been past them, but I didn't see them as places where people lived, as homeless communities. I've never been one to turn away from the homeless, but I know I never sought them out, either.

I thought this trip would be depressing, but it wasn't so. I talked with the men and women and heard their stories. There is a camaraderie and community among the people, a sense of looking out for their common welfare. I'm not saying it was easy, just that it wasn't sad, like I think I was expecting it to be. In the end, I came to recognize a quiet, simple dignity that I wasn't expecting, and their kindness and generosity to me and to one another was uplifting.

We got home to our warm house about 1am and I was so grateful for what I have - family,, friends, clothing, a warm house. I definitely think I will do this trip more often.

Happy Anniversary - 18 Years

Today Mrs. Fish and I celebrate 18 years. I honestly couldn't imagine doing this crazy trip with anyone else. We are raising an amazing daughter, continuing to grow and learn together, and we are still friends after all these years. I am a blessed man, to be certain.

What I've learned:
1) Be friends - We've had ups and they're AWESOME. When things get tough, we needed something to fall back on. I fall back on the fact that we were friends first, and that friendship was based on mutual respect.

2) Be lovers - Kids, jobs, family, bills, all have a way of draining the love from a marriage. If we don't fill that bucket, things go south. It doesn't have to be big extravagant over-the-top declarations or acts of love, but if we don't set aside that time, look out. And, when we do, even when we think we're too tired, too distracted, too ___________, our marriage gets better.

3) Talk about money - even when we didn't have any, we still talked about it. I think there is very little that will rip a marriage apart as quickly as being on different pages about money. I'm still learning how to do it, but some of the best conversations and best moments of closeness I have had with Mrs. Fish have been over conversations around money.

4) Grow. I have grown with my wife and without her. I want to keep on learning new things, and I think that has made me a better husband. I am learning about my health, writing and art. She learns about music (something I know hopelessly little about), books (she reads a TON of books), and fashion.

5) Know your purpose. I have a strong faith and it's been deepened over the years. It hasn't always been easy, and God has called me to some challenging places. Mrs. Fish wasn't always as faith-focused as I, but she has supported me through that walk, even when she didn't understand or necessarily agree with it. God continues to work on us, and also through us, because I have trusted that He has a purpose for me. Mrs. Fish's faith has deepened and expanded because I have stayed true to that focus over the years, and God is rewarding it with new challenges and opportunities. That grounding, that sense of purpose, has been my rudder through marriage, raising a now 13 year-old daughter in today's society, cancer, conflict, friendships and the challenges we have faced together.

I'm not saying we have it figured out, just my observations of what has worked for us over the past 18 years.

Stuttering

Many of you know that Li'l Fish, my 13 year-old daughter stutters and has done so since shortly after she began speaking. It has rarely slowed her down, to the point where she is now actively participating in the National Stuttering Association (NSA) and even gave a Keynote speech to nearly 600 people at their annual conference two years ago.

Through the course of all of this, we have met some AMAZING people who stutter. One of them is Philip, a remarkable young man who has a lot to say. He's in a college class where the teacher would prefer he didn't. His story just made the New York Times. You can read the story by CLICKING HERE.

The central message of the NSA is this: If you stutter, you are not alone. I just wanted to pass this along, because so often people who stutter suffer in silence and never find their voices. My daughter, and Philip, have been empowered to find their voices, and to USE them, through the NSA. You can find out more about the NSA at www.WeStutter.org