Sighing

Ah another hiatus from writing for Rob, what else is new right? I am getting back into it and hope to keep it on a regular basis now so the few viewers that I do have actually have something to read instead of paying their visits and finding the same old, non-updated material. I actually have a lot of bottled up topics too that I want to get out so I am working on that, along with outlining a book that I am writing about my life. Thanks for the views that you guys do provide, whoever you are. I hope that my writing is something of interest to the people who read it. Stay tuned.

-Rob

The Extra Mile(s)

Saturday, September 19th marked the third consecutive year that I entered the Pleasant Valley Bike-A-Thon for charity. There are actually two bike trips every year, a 25 mile one that is a race, and a 10 mile trip that is for parents and children to enjoy. Of course I enter the 25 mile race.

As most people probably know by now, I am extremely competitive and have been that way for a while now. It is no surprise then that my goal is to win this race. In my two previous attempts, I had done very well but fallen short of the victory. In 2007 I finished 5th out of 20 and last year I finished 4th out of 30. I had made an improvement in gaining 1 more spot with an additional 10 racers as competition, but this year I wanted to beat them all.

Unlike the previous two years, this time I was physically at the top of my game. The 2007 race was entered on a whim as I had seen the sign on the way to school one morning and just decided to join without having actually biked in probably 3 or 4 months. The 2008 race was a little different, as I knew about it in advance, but still had very little training put in beforehand. I am not saying this to make it sound like I do not need training in order to finish in the top 5 of a very competitive race, I am strictly stating the fact that, in my opinion, I was not physically ready for that style of race.

This year turned out to be different, as a large portion of my free time this summer was spent biking. I had many of the longest trips that I have ever taken, including the longest one way trip that I have ever taken, a 4 and a half hour trek to Clayton’s new house that encompassed roughly 60 miles. I probably averaged 28-33 miles per trip and usually biked 3-4 days a week. I went into this race feeling as I still do now, that I was and am in the best physical condition of my life.

I had done all of my training this summer on my mountain bike which, while nice sometimes, is not a bike I would ever use in competition. The bike is an 18 speed but I only have access to the first 12 gears. This is because the third multiplier does not work, so I cannot reach the highest gears. In retrospect, I only lose gears 15 and 18, but it is still a loss. Also, the tires are not how I would like them to be and I believe that the back one might be a little bent as I can feel it when I am riding. I decided then that I would use a road bike for this race and banked on the fact that given my condition and how I can take such trips on the mountain bike, the race on a road bike should be easier on me physically and save my legs from having to do so much work, like they do on the mountain bike.

I biked to a friend’s house on my mountain bike on the Friday before the race and exchanged my bike for their road bike, which I took on a somewhat long ride to get used to. I wanted to get a feel for the gears more so than anything else so that I could shift them quickly in the race while not using much focus or ability to do so. As it turned out, the bike had immediate dividends as it took me 23 minutes to do a trip that took about a half hour on the mountain bike. I felt comfortable about the upcoming race.

The night before the race I went onto my computer, opened up iTunes, and made a special playlist for the next day which I titled “Bike.” This was going to be the list of songs, in a specific order, that I listened to during the race. Adding a side note here, yes, every time I bike I do in fact listen to my iPod. If you ever see me biking, do not assume that I am not paying attention. The opposite is actually true. I keep the music high enough to hear but low enough so that I know what is going on around me. For instance, I can hear the -whoosh- sound of a car coming up behind me. I also hear when random immature people like to yell at me as I am biking, assuredly thinking that for some reason I care what they have to say. Moving on, my playlist contained 20 songs, equaling about an hour and 35 minutes worth of music. I assumed that I would finish the race in that time, or shortly after. Oh how wrong I was.

I woke up on Saturday morning at 6:15 after going to bed at roughly 1:30, a great way to start off my morning, eh? I went into the bathroom, used it, washed my face, then proceeded to the kitchen where I had a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a cup of orange juice. I went back into the bedroom and got into my biking gear: black shorts and a long sleeve black Under Armour for cold weather. After going outside I realized it was a cold morning, not necessarily a bad thing though. I left shortly after for the race.

Arriving shortly after 8:30, I signed up then sat around until 8:45 before I stretched and did a few warm-up laps around the parking lot. The announcer that they have there every year started his pre-race talk and the racers lined up at the starting line. I was lined up in second place and after he finished talking, we were off.

And so it begins.

We exited the parking lot where the finish line was and took a left heading up a slow rising hill and onto a straightaway. I immediately overtook the leader and began to pull away, without using any extra effort. I do no look back during this race very often, but in the beginning I like to, just to see the gap. The gap kept widening between me and them until they were out of sight. I knew, or rather I hoped, that eventually one or two of them would catch up and give me a run for my money, just to make it interesting. After a few miles, there is a right turn that leads up a very steep hill. Somehow I managed to miss this turn and kept going towards Poughkeepsie, ending up about 2 miles in the wrong direction. Upon realizing it, I turned back around and found the steep hill and took it. Once I got to the top I realized what I had already assumed, that not only was I dead last, but I was a good distance behind the last place riders.

This race has what I call a “reverse pace car.” A pace car is something that you see in NASCAR that leads the first few laps then drives off and lets the race start. Well in this race, there is a car that follows the last place riders in case them or any rider ahead of them breaks down or has bicycle trouble. The people just stop and sooner or later the car will get to them and either assist them or pick them up along with their bike if it is not fixable. As it turns out, I was far behind that car, meaning that the new leader(s) was much further ahead.

I knew that I was not going to go home and say that I lost this race because I missed one turn early on, my day just could not end like that. I knew that I had already went 3-4 miles more than the other cyclists and that in order to win this race, I would have to do 28-29 miles faster than they could do 25. It was a challenge, not only one that I was up for, but one that I welcomed.

In a few minutes time, I caught up to the car that follows the end riders and passed it, along with three riders that it was following. I went from 28th to 25th with that move, at least I was making progress. I began catching up to other riders that were biking in groups, slowly making my way up towards the front. Including passing one single rider in the process I went from 25th to 23rd to 21st to 20th to 18th to 16th to 14th to 12th to 10th in about twenty-five minutes time. I had entered the top 10 but knew there was much more work to be done.

Continuing on, I found it harder to locate the other riders because they were the best riders in the marathon and they had pushed on at a competitive pace. In one fell swoop, I went from 10th to 6th as I passed a group of four riders around a left turn. At that point, I began to think that if I continued on like this, I had a shot at winning. I knew that there was alot of race left and more than enough time to make some more moves. That next move came a few minutes later when I passed two more riders, putting me in 4th.

I gained the third spot relatively easy due to one rider walking his bike up a challenging hill instead of trying to bike it. I was not so relenting, and took the hill and his spot.

After that pass, I noticed the trend and became aware of how I was catching up to the other riders. I had trained all summer by always taking the most challenging routes when I biked, not just going on straightaways. I loved going up 343 knowing it was the most challenging hill I have ever experienced on a bike, but always knowing that the 30 second ride down was worth the 9 minute trek up. I had built up a likeness for climbing those hills and that training came in handy for this race. Whereas other riders struggled on the hills, even submitting to them and walking their bikes, I easily ascended them. This leads to my favorite part of the race, ironically involving a hill.

I was sitting in third place and knew that no one behind me would catch me. I knew that if I finished third, it would be my best finish yet in my three years entering this race. I also knew something else, that I could win this race. In two years I had finished extremely well but to actually win this year, that would be something, especially in this fashion. In the weeks leading up to the race, alot of my friends kept telling me “You can win this.” I heard that statement alot, and they all seemed confident. I was also confident, in both my ability and my physical condition. I knew I could do 25 miles in my sleep, my average ride this summer was close to or greater than 30 miles. It was just one of those things where even if you think you’re good, you cannot agree with the people who tell you you can win until you actually see yourself win or do well.

Anyway, on to the favorite part. I was coming up a hill and it connected to another, very steep hill, one of the toughest I have ever been on, probably in the top 3. I looked ahead on the mini straightaway that joined the two hills and saw the second place rider, a man about early forties in age. I caught up to him relatively quickly and got right behind him probably 1/5 the way up the hill. He then stood up on his bike, using more leg power to climb the hill. I simply remained seated and powered up the hill, overtaking him about 1/3 the way up and that was that. It was a nice duel, especially up a hill like that. All told, I was now second with, I am guessing, somewhere around 8-9 miles left. Then it began, the phrases from the friends. Could I win now? I asked myself that. I had gone from first with an enormous lead, to dead last via a missed turn, to one pass away from the lead. Maybe I could win.

It is said that some things are too good to be true, and maybe in part that is the case. As I climbed a hill a little while later, I made a mistake that I never make, downshifting my gears from the highest to the lowest while going uphill. This caused the chain to slide off of the sprocket and become lodged between the sprocket and the frame. I was angry. I pulled over on the side of the road to examine the bike. The chain was jammed in there pretty good and I tried pulling it out but it did not budge. I pulled on it from a few different angles and still it did not become dislodged. Time was running out, I knew that the leader was still pulling away from me and this only added to the work I would have to do to find him and pass him in the few remaining miles.

As I stood there messing with the bike, five riders passed me, putting me back to 7th place. I got madder at that point. I hadn’t done all that catching up to lose it now. I slid the chain one way and using alot of strength, pulled it out. In the process I sliced my pointer finger knuckle open so my hand had blood on it on top of the grease from the chain, I didn’t care, I put the chain back on, shifted to the lowest gear, spun the pedal, and the chain was back on. I took off after those five riders.

I caught up to them fairly quickly and passed them all one by one without acknowledging any of them. I did not have time to waste, I had the leader to find. Second place was once again mine, but could I improve on it?

For the next 2 or 3 miles, I biked on with no one in sight. I could see far ahead of me some of the time, but still he did not come into view. I knew that even if I could not see him, I could still make up ground on him and judging by my past experiences in the previous miles, I perhaps had him on the hills. In surprising fashion, I went down a large hill bent over on my bike to gain top speed and the turn went around a right corner. As I went around the corner at top speed, I finally saw what I was looking for and needed only a moment to take the lead. Going around the turn, it led to another downhill and I was just a blur compared to the leader. I passed him without a fight. Perhaps he thought his lead was so vast that he did not need max effort for the remainder of the race. I like to think not, that I did all of that work to find him, he didn’t let me. After all, this is a race, not a casual stroll through the park.

There really isn’t much more to tell, I passed him and led the final 5-6 miles by a large margin and crossed the finish line 15 minutes before the next rider did. Time for a reflection.

First off all, yes, I won the race. I never doubted that I could, it was just a matter of whether I would. As good a cyclist as I like to think I am, I cannot predict or downplay how good the other riders are. I am in the best shape of my life but I know full well that there is someone out there who is not in their prime and still capable of beating me in a bike marathon. I sit back and say, even at this moment, two weeks later, what I have done has not yet sunk in.. It truly hasn’t. I went from leading by a large amount, to falling to dead last, to making my way back to 2nd, to falling back to 7th and truly thinking that my race was over, to fixing the chain and taking my spot back, to taking the lead and finishing the race in first place. I had won a race consisting of 27 other riders with the same goal as me. I had finished 28 or 29 miles 15 minutes FASTER than the next best rider had done 25 miles. I had experienced 2 out of the 3 blood, sweat, and tears combination. Then I celebrated my winning by biking home for most of the trip, being picked up in Dover close to home. After that day, I know two things right now.

1. I didn’t win this race, I dominated it.

2. Next year, I plan to repeat, without missing my turn.

1. Jim Holmes

Who didn’t see this one coming. It is no surprise that Jim tops the countdown of most influential positive impacts on my life. It is not a surprise to Jim, it is not a surprise to me, and it is not a surprise to anyone that knows him or I. I have known Jim since we were in 6th grade, but we have been best friends since 8th grade, totaling 7 years and counting. As for the impact, allow the story to begin.

Unlike the other pieces where I listed each person’s greatest impact on me at the end of the post, I am introducing it first in this one. There are a few reasons for this, the first being it is a long, detailed explanation. Another reason is because telling the story this way will allow my memory to be tapped and allow me to remember more things now, as opposed to saving some for later.

Every person over probably the age of 15 has a best friend, whether you have been that way since you were 2 years old or maybe you just found that friendship after turning 20, you have someone. For me, Jim has elevated what a best friend is. Most people can say that the next step above having someone as your best friend is considering them a brother or a sister to you, but it is not that way with Jim and I. I do not consider him a brother to me, I consider it to be somewhat of a different level. Brothers can be extremely alike and still not be totally alike. This is why I do not consider us to be brothers. I did not know in 8th grade that without either of us ever changing our personalities, that they would be the exact same. Of course it is possible to have the same sense of humor as someone, the same likes and dislikes as them, the same hobby preferences as them, but how often is someone the exact same as you? How often does someone find the same exact things funny that you do, and vice versa, finding things that annoy you also annoying to them? We both will tell you, and I can speak for him, that we would not act the same if we were paid, so it is remarkable that we are one in the same. Allow a few examples.

During our senior year of high school in English class, our teacher Mrs. Collacchio, would call on one of us. Since we both sat in the back of the room, we were somewhat out of sight. We decided that on a whim, one of us could answer for the other, and so we did. Not once did Mrs. Collacchio ever question who was talking, revealing later on that we sounded the exact same, both in tone and in terms of the words and phrases that we used. The teacher that replaced her during our senior year, Mr. Moffat, later admitted the same thing.

During the entirity of high school, our names became synonomous with each other. I swear whenever I heard a story about one of us, the phrase “Jim and Rob” or “Rob and Jim” was always used. Whenever a prank went on during school, oftentimes we were both called down to the office as the first suspects. It became commonplace to be called out of class, walk down the hallway into the office and see Jim standing there and asking him “What are we here for?” His response was always “I have no idea.” That’s the way it was.

From the beginning of high school, we adopted what I’ll call the “Jackass” mentality. This idea derives its name from the popular television show commonly shown on MTV. We began to start doing “stunts” or dumb little things for laughs, and sooner or later it just took off. We became the equivalent of George and Fred Weasley, except instead of selling prank materials, we provided the pranks ourselves for free. We became a form of entertainment whenever we chose to. Our resume includes, but is certainly not limited to:

1. Bringing the entire cafeteria to silence and then announcing that the New York lottery is now 7 billion dollars.
2. “Party Boying” Mr. Kenny as he walked down the hallway.
3. Me scoring a goal in soccer outside during gym class then going to the center of the field and celebrating and Jim blindsiding me by plowing me directly into the ground. Anyone that has seen the video of Terrell Owens doing this on the Dallas Cowboys star at midfield will know what we were mimicking.
4. Creating the Mini Johanemans floor hockey team along with Clayton Brooks, Marcus Jackson, and Dillon Nugent and being within one goal and one annoyance away from the semi-finals. Regardless, we were the fan favorites that night.
5. Creating a “scavenger hunt” similar to the one from the Jackass show. It featured random acts that had to be performed and as they were, they were checked off, The team completing the most challenges won at the end of the day. Too bad it was cut short.
6. Drawing an enormous Mr. Kenny on Mr. Wright’s blackboard and featuring him in leopard skin briefs. Luck was with us that day, as Mr. Kenny came in to converse with Mr. Wright and noticed himself drawn there, to which he smirked.
7. Buying Mr. Kenny a bottle of Rogain and placing it on his desk only to receive the response “I’ll give this to my brother, he uses this stuff.”
8. Jim getting his lunch priveleges removed for an entire week, creating a situation where he had to have me or someone else from the table get his lunch for him. Reason for this: excessive use of the “F” word directly to the lunch ladies.
9. Shooting arrows directly into the woods during archery in gym class.
10. Prank calling Wingdale Hardware along with Clayton and a few others and being one “yes” away from being arrested and taken out of school. The “yes” refers to the fact that the owner of the store had the choice of whether to press charges or not, luckily he chose not to.
11. Scoring a goal in floor hockey and completely tearing my shirt off Hulk Hogan style and being told to change and leave immediately.
12. Playing a form of tag in Health class and Jim deciding to avoid all tags by running 100 feet out of bounds and then diving into a pine tree to conceal himself. He still sports the scars.
13. My personal favorite. During 10th grade English class, we read Othello and for the duration of the semester, Jim voiced Othello during the readings and I voiced Iago. We always read the characters using different voices ranging from Arnold Schwarzenegger, Michael Jackson, rastafarian, deep black male, little girl, old lady, even singing one verse to the beat of Blues Clues. It got so good that when it came time for new people to speak the parts, they refused to accept them, saying that they wanted Jim and I to continue because of the voiceovers we used.

The list goes on. I swear every day has the potential to put something else on the resume, if you will. Who knows what will happen next.

In any case, many of the other stories on this countdown had a beginning and an ending, but this one does not have an ending. There is no final opinion or statement or “if only we still spoke” type of phrase. This is the story on the countdown that truly could go on forever. Some others may be longer than this one in terms of words, but in terms of anecdotes or longevity, this story I am still living. I do have a conclusion, however.

Jim Holmes does one thing right that every person should do in order to be the best possible friend that they can be, that being always being honest. I can honestly say, there have been times when Jim told me something that would normally offend a friend, an example being “_____ (girlfriend’s name) is a bitch.” That does not offend me, I think everybody should speak like that. It wasn’t as if he made that up as his own opinion, in that instance he was right. I want friends in this world and in my life that tell me whatever they think, even if they KNOW I do not want to hear it.

That, to me, is true friendship.

Things That I Have Observed/Learned This Summer.

1. Dating someone for 3 years means something. You can tell yourself and others that it didn’t but deep down, you know it did.
2. After telling myself that I would never date someone that smoked cigarettes, I caved in and granted someone the exception. That will never happen again.
3. My parents and 18 year old brother despise me because I strive to be everything that they are not: successful. Out of those three, I only have a space in my life for my mother. If she ever changed and stopped defending my brother and father’s explicable actions and lifestyle, I would gladly resume a relationship with her.
4. Girls make better friends for me than guys overall, but there are guy friends that are irreplacable to me.
5. I can work an entire summer from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. for absolutely no wages and love every minute of it.
6. I have slept in the same bed as Clayton Brooks more times (8) than I have with a girl (0) this summer.
7. Even after not talking to some of them for years, many of my old, true friends came back to me, and I am thankful for that.
8. It took me 20 summers to finally achieve an even tan, chest and back included.
9. Of all the girls I have ever kissed, only one of them was actually good at kissing back.
10. I overanalyze everything.
11. In the past, including this summer, I have allowed people to waste my time. I have learned to heed before walking into such scenarios again.
12. I have gotten into relationships that I should have stayed out of.
13. You can be told in one sentence that you are the nicest, sweetest, kindest guy and that you are an extremely good boyfriend in every way and be broken up with in the very next sentence.
14. I went on my first roller coaster this summer and can honestly say there were times when I closed my eyes. After awhile, I got the hang of it.
15. In two months time you can go from having everything you could ever want to having almost nothing at all.
16. I have been driven and tempted to do things involving girls that I tell people I would never do but the good Rob in me always prevents it or backs out at the last second.
17. I can never be someone that I am not.
18. I can bike 60 miles in four and a half hours in 95 degree weather with 35 ounces of water just because I am bored.
19. This summer was the first time I ever cried in front of a male friend. I am absolutely not embarassed by it, he understands why I was hurt.
20. I got my first tattoo this summer and unlike most people I know, have never once showed it off.
21. Going to and being in college is extremely important to me and I am proud of my academic accomplishments.
22. After telling myself that the youngest person I would date would have to be no more than 3 years younger than me, I faltered and dated a 16 year old. This will also never happen again.
23. I can never hate a person. There are currently three people that I do not care about, but I can never bring myself to hate them.
24. After going 0-9 in my co-ed softball league last year and starting this season 0-1, it felt good to finally win a game the following week. I waited 10 career games for a win, but it could not have come with me being on a better team.
25. I achieved my “15 minutes of fame,” so to speak in game #6 of this season when I hit a walk-off, game winning, 2 run home run into the woods and was greeted at home plate by my teammates, who doused me in water and cheers.
26. Only one person has ever calmed me down and taken my overly competitive edge away by telling me to “calm down” and rubbing my back. They no longer have that affect on me.
27. I have had more girlfriends from June 30th, 2009 to early August 2009 (2) than I had from June 18th, 2006 to June 21st, 2009 (1).
28. I have a brilliant baseball mind and would make a great manager someday.
29. I have seen a blind person play the piano better than alot of people who have sight. This is not an insult to him in any way, he plays marvelously.
30. After promising myself at the end of my senior year of high school that I would not lose my physical fitness, I am now in the best physical condition of my life.
31. Once on a bike ride of mine, I happened to drive by the cemetary in Dover and remembered that my great-grandfather was buried there. On a whim, I turned in, walked to his grave after having remembered where it was when my mother visited it with me as a child, and wished him a happy belated birthday. I have no idea why I did that.
32. I am competitive in everything that I do, whether it be playing basketball at the local park, competing against myself when I bike challenging courses, or doing a Sudoku puzzle.
33. Each time I write, I provide everyone who knows the link to my site a looking glass into my personal life, and I don’t mind it. I love sharing things that the average person keeps within.
34. I am truly a nice guy, in so many ways.
35. Life goes on, even if the things that you want to happen don’t work out your way.
36. Driving a car is not only very easy for me, I find it completely relaxing as an activity in general.
37. The only thing on the Taco Bell menu that I eat and like are the bean burritos.
38. It has rained entirely too much this summer.
39. This summer has been both the best and the worst of my life.
40. “Everyone deserveS a chance”

2. Ashley Woodin

This is perhaps the only real surprise of the entire countdown. You have seen the name so you know that Ashley Woodin is ranked number two, but you still don’t know exactly why. As it turns out, I have plenty of reasons and this is a story I love telling. It shows that true friendship can be found with the tiniest of gestures and that one person can pop into your mind even at the most random of times.

I like to say that the very first time I ever saw Ashley was also the very first time she ever saw me. This happened one day during my sophomore year of high school, towards the end of the year. I was going to my friend Jim’s house on his bus and we had gotten to the bus early and were sitting there conversing when Ashley got onto his bus. The thing that immediately stuck out to me was the fact that I had been on Jim’s bus many times before and knew that she was not on his route. As she walked past me I noticed her (then) long brown hair. The bus left school and went it’s usual way and soon we got to Jim’s stop. I went to stand up and looked towards the back of the bus and locked eyes with Ashley (didn’t know her name at that time) for a second, taking in her absolutely beautiful hazel eyes. I got off of the bus and that was that.

That night as I sat in Jim’s room on the computer, that girl I had seen on the bus crossed my mind. I wanted to, if nothing else, know who she was. I contacted my friend Dylan Young and asked if he could help me figure out who she was. He said that he would and started showing me various people’s Myspace account pictures based on my description of her to see if I recognized any of them. Eventually, I did and at that moment I learned that I had locked eyes with a girl named Ashley Woodin and that she was in 8th grade. Dylan went a step further and offered to give me her screen name so I could talk to her and get to know her. I accepted and thanked him.

I entered her screen name into my buddy list and began talking to her, notifying her that in case she was wondering, I had gotten her screen name from Dylan Young. She said that it was fine and we commenced. I explained that I had seen her on Jim’s bus and that I was a sophomore. She actually said that she didn’t remember seeing me, but we became acquainted nontheless. Before our conversation ended that night I decided to walk out on a ledge, so to speak. I knew that at our high school when you graduated from 8th grade, there was a dance to commemorate it. I asked Ashley if she had a date to that dance and, if not, could I be her date (upperclassmen were allowed to go with special permission, which was easy to obtain.) Unfortunately, the deadline to sign up upperclassmen ended Wednesday and it was now Friday, I was two days late, nothing I could do. Turns out I had a backup plan. The high school held monthly dances and the very last one of the year, the graduating 8th graders were permitted to go. The idea was that this would acclimate them, at least a little bit, to high school life. I asked Ashley to go to this and she accepted.

My father dropped me off early and I walked to the middle school and sat on one of the newly added benches. As I waited, I wondered how I would handle myself that night, what I would say, and other things of that nature. I watched as Mrs. Lawson-Boice and her husband loaded her belongings into his truck, putting the finishing touches on her teaching career at Dover High School. She had retired and given a speech at that years’ 8th grade graduation to which she received a tearful goodbye from Tori Bondi and a standing ovation from some members of the crowd, myself included. She had been my social studies teacher only two years prior and that night, watching that graduation, I had been teary eyed and can admit it without shame.

She greeted me with a “hello” and a “goodbye” accordingly, and she was gone. Amazing what goes through your mind as you see something like that. Soon after, Ashley got dropped off by her mom and saw me on the bench. We talked a bit then headed to the high school entrance to wait for the doors to open for the dance.

There isn’t much to report from the actual dance night itself really, only one instance. I was in the gym playing basketball with perhaps four or five other people and Ashley decided to watch. The game went on for a relatively long time and I kept looking over at her sitting there. At one point, she was laying down on the bleachers, possibly annoyed or bored. I felt extremely bad for not spending my time with her and felt that I had wasted her time by inviting her. We left that night after exchanging “goodbyes” and that entire car ride consisted of me thinking about her. I still felt badly and vowed to treat her better in the future, both as a friend and as a person. To say it now, if there were ever a “missed chance” so to speak involving a girl, that was it. I’m not saying I would have “made a move” or anything of that nature, but for someone who prides myself on and strives to be a nice guy, that was out of character and unacceptable.

After that night, we actually did become closer as friends, close enough to the point where I absolutely loved just sitting and talking to her for hours on end. It was around this time that she had given me her cell phone number and permission to call her whenever I wanted to. This was around the end of the school year so seeing each other in school would soon be over. During those last few days, I developed the habit that I still have to this day, that being listening to music that relates to my situation. In those days, I came to school every morning listening to my Breaking Benjamin cd. I chose to listen to the songs that easily fit into what I was feeling. Surprisingly, many of the tracks could fit into my life at that point. This act of listening to music also encompassed my bus ride home from school. I still remember my last day of 10th grade, also her last day of 8th grade, and how we had nothing to do so we walked around the school just talking. When the buses arrived at the school early because it was a half day, it was time to go, summer break awaited. Before I boarded my bus, Ashley and I shared “goodbyes,” “happy summers,” and a hug. She walked to her bus, I got on mine, turned on my Breaking Benjamin cd, and smiled.

As I stated earlier and want to get back to, we spoke on the phone alot. I would get bored at my house, get on my bike, ride up the street to the train station, call Ashley, and talk for any amount of time. After awhile, I gave her my house number so she could call me as well. I remember at one point, she was going on a mini vacation to Maine for a few days and kept telling me how she would be bored the entire time. I decided that I could probably, in a small way, save her some of the boredom by calling her on some of those days, so I did. During those calls we discussed everything from her jumping off of a dock into the water to the possibility of seeing a moose. We talked about everything.

After that trip of hers, I’m left with only one more phone story. It was during that summer and I had called her at around 9:30 or 10:00 at night. Without it being planned or even acknowledged, we conversed until shortly after 5 o’clock in the morning. Thinking back now, that is the longest phone call I have ever had and probably will ever have in my entire life.

Before discussing Ashley’s greatest positive impact on my life, I just want to insert one more small anecdote. Her and I attended a birthday party at Austin Gonzales’s house that included other friends as well. Somewhere around halfway through that party, we were all sitting downstairs in the basement eating and Ashley and a couple of her friends wanted to hear some music, so they started using the big stereo to do so. The only song I remember being played was one that they referred to as the “Deer Song.” It was a song that I had never heard before but I enjoyed it nontheless. The song’s real name is “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” and it is by Fall Out Boy. I know why they called it the “Deer Song” but if anyone reading this doesn’t, simply watch the music video and it’ll all fall into place. Now every time I hear that song, the first and only thing that pops into my head is Ashley Woodin.

Now for the finale, if you will. The number one positive influence that Ashley had and has on me was not one of her own doing. It is something that I learned and still take with me to this day as a personal message. Some close friends may have even heard me quote that belief. Before I say it, I want to show how I came to believe it.

Everyone that knows me closely knows that I absolutely love biking. Growing up, and even now, it is my source of transportation to so many places. I’ve biked to Dutchess Community College to take a final exam at eight in the morning (61.52 miles round trip.) I’ve biked from New York to Connecticut in the pouring rain (22.82 miles.) I’ve biked to my old bus stop and left my bike there until the bus dropped me off later that afternoon after my parents selfishly moved our family out of the district (11.98 miles every day for 2 months.) I even take part in an annual bike marathon race for chairty that takes place in Pleasant Valley, both of these times a section of the race was in pouring rain. That marathon is 26.2 miles and I finished 5th out of 20 in 2007 and 4th out of 30 in 2008 and led a large portion of the race, maybe 7 or 8 miles. This year I’ll try to do even better. If you know that I bike, you’ve probably called me crazy for doing it. I have just come to adopt the idea that everyone my age drives everywhere so me biking equal or greater distance is against the norm, therefore “crazy.” Either way, odds are if I have been to a friends house, at least one of those visits was via bike. Ashley is no exception to this rule.

One day during a phone conversation, she gave me semi-directions to her house from mine and I set out to get there on bike. This was really when I started biking great distances (my house to hers and back totalled 23.54 miles.) I left one Saturday morning and biked to the road that she lived on but as it turns out, the road is very long and contains many houses. I didn’t make it to the house so when I got back home I called her and asked if the house that I had arrived at was hers. She told me that it wasn’t and that she lived further down that road. I said “okay” and told her I would make it next time.

The second time I once again didn’t make it far enough and she gave me more detailed instructions. The third time proved to be the charm and I rode back feeling accomplished for actually finding the proper location this time. I got home and called her and explained my success. We discussed that I should notify her the next time I was going to take that trip so that she could be outside and we could talk. This offer I accepted.

My next trip there came a few weeks later. I told Ashley early that morning that I would be coming but hadn’t given her a time. Truth be told, I didn’t even know when I would leave because I was at a friend’s house. I got home around noon that day and left on my journey.

When I arrived at her house, I looked up her driveway and saw her standing there doing something with a skateboard. I was surprised that at random, she was outside when I got there. She saw me and came down the hill and we spoke for a few minutes until I rode back home.

Since that bike ride, I have only taken one more bike ride to Ashley’s house, that being on June 21st, 2009. This is the date mentioned in my earlier post as being the worst day of my life thus far. I rode there for reasons unknown, but probably because, for me, that destination held happiness for me on a day that I had been torn in so many ways. That part of the trip was in pouring rain, but well worth it. After that, I ended up at Clayton’s.

These bike rides to Ashley’s, as stated, have helped me live by my own mantra. I developed it based on those rides and my connection with her.

I thank you, Ashley, for being such a large part of my life, even if you don’t think you are or were. I thank you for being my friend and giving me someone to talk to about everything. I still remember what you said to me when I graduated from high school. “Congratulations Rob. I know you will be successful in all that you do and remember, you’ll always be my bro.” That meant alot. It still does. And for what you have given me that means the most, my quote for every bike ride that I have ever taken and still have yet to take:

“The destination is always, always, worth the journey.”

It Happened

I want to begin the story in the near past, Father’s Day to be exact. That day, for me, has been the worst day in my entire life, hands down. The bad began around noon on that Sunday afternoon. Sunday and Monday are biking days for me. I bike about 5-6 times a week, 20+ miles per day, and I love doing it. Well, my father decided he was going to try and take that away from me and locked my bike up in his shed. I walked outside dressed in my bike gear and holding my water bottle and noticed immediately that my bike was not in its normal spot in the backyard. I looked around and became aware that it had been put somewhere by someone and not by accident. I walked back inside the house and told my younger sister Megan about it. She immediately suggested that my dad had locked it in his shed. She told me that she had a key to that shed and began looking for it until we determined that somehow my father had taken it sometime in the past. I went outside just to make sure that shed was locked, and found out that it was. That shed was NEVER locked and at that moment I knew that my bike was in there and I knew that I was going to get it out.

I turned on the television and watched the Mets game until my dad left at 2 pm to go pick up my mom from work. Without hesitation I took a hammer out of my grandmother’s room and walked out the front door and directly to his shed. I smashed not only the lock but the entire handle off in a few blows then ripped the door off and threw it aside. I leaned in and took my bike out and set it down, picked up the door and put it back in place. At that time my younger brother Matt (18) approached me twirling a butterfly knife and told me, in a few short words, that I was “not leaving the yard with that bike.” I walked right past him and into the front yard. I set the bike against the tree and walked back inside to get my water bottle out of the refrigerator. Walking back outside, I noticed that Matt had taken the bike and rode off down the road on it. His plan was obvious. He was going to hold it at bay until my dad got back home so he could return it to him. This greatly increased my anger level. I chose to go back to the Mets game until my dad pulled in. I was ready for him, mentally and if necessary, physically.

My parents got out of the car, my mom heading towards the house with the groceries and my dad directly to the backyard, no doubt to check his precious shed because I had known all along that he knew I would try to get in. He came in a few moments later and demanded that my mom give him the phone. She asked why and he proclaimed “he fucking broke into the shed and stole the bike so I am calling the cops.” In two steps I was in his face “CALL THEM NOW!” My sister Megan said that at that very moment, she was scared at the sight of me. She said that I was literally shaking with rage, and I was. My father didn’t end up calling them because I had called his bluff, and I knew I would.

After that Matt came back and dropped the bike in the backyard. Megan walked out and took it, telling my dad that she was giving it to me, and did just that. I met her out front and rode off on it, no destination in mind at that point.

That bike trip took me 23.69 miles, more than half of which was in pouring rain. I ended up at my friend Clayton’s house and had dinner with his family and hung out there for a bit. Afterwards, he offered to drive me home and leave my bike at his house to be retrieved some other time. I agreed that that would be fine and off we went. He dropped me off somewhere around 7:20 and I entered the house. I set up my laptop on the kitchen table and began doing various things to pass the time. The day didn’t get any easier.

At around 10:30 or so, Melissa Schreyer and I broke up. We decided that it was unhealthy to continue on when the feelings just weren’t there. We had been dating for precisely 3 years and 3 days, and now it was over. I will get to this in a bit, but there is something else that needs to be tended to before that. That other thing happened sometime between 11:25 and 11:40.

As I sat there on the computer thinking about the breakup, I heard my dad yelling. He was walking towards the front door from the backyard and his voice just got louder as he got closer. The very last words he uttered before the door opened were “…that cock SUCKER.” I knew he was coming for me, and I didn’t have a clue why. I chose to prepare myself for the worst. As he opened the door I stood up to face him. He got right in my face and started yelling and pushing me slightly, saying something about me throwing some “green shit” onto his car. I had completely no idea what he was talking about and knew that arguing was pointless because he was an idiot and would never understand. He became increasingly more physical, backing me into a corner. I proclaimed several times that I was not going to fight him and it was obvious he wanted me to.

Pausing for a moment, I am obviously not the type of person to “get even” so to speak by doing something to his car. If I had a problem with him I would have taken it up with him, not perform cowardly acts like that. He was clearly just trying to find a reason to hit me if it came to that, and it would.

Him backing me into a corner got me to a point where I knew I had to do something to better my situation. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him backwards into a food cabinet, knocking it over and sending him crashing back into the front door. This bought me enough time to get out of the corner he had backed me into. At that point my sister and grandmother were in the kitchen watching this fight ensue, both yelling at my father to stop. He came back at me and was directly in my face and I remember saying to him “throw one punch, I’ve been waiting twenty years for this.” I meant every word. I had dealt with his abuse, both verbal and physical, for years and in a moments notice was ready to deal out my own.

He continued backing me down into another corner and then we grabbed each others collars. He tried to budge me backwards but I held my own. Keep in mind my father is 6′1, 250-260 pounds and I am 6′2, roughly 162. He should have had the advantage physically, but I made up for it in rage. I have never, ever, in my life been so mad. During that section of the quarrel, my brother Matt busted through the door and came at me, making this now a 2 0n 1 fight in favor of them. The moment that the door opened, he immediately became my main focus. I threw my dad aside into the sink and Matt ran at me. I bent down, lifted him up by his waist, spun around and threw him three feet into the refrigerator. He bounced off and my dad collected him and they both came at me. I somehow ended up in the middle of them and got out and pushed them both against the fridge. That was when my dad grabbed Matt and pretty much said that this was his fight. Matt left through the door and my father picked up right where he had left off. I got tired of his tactics and grabbed his collar again, spun him around, and held him in the corner, asking him how he liked it.

That went on for another two or three minutes until I let him out and he left to go back outside, telling me that I was to “pack my shit and get the fuck out.” I guess he thought I actually liked living there. My friend Jim came and got me around 12:10 am and I left for the night.

Words cannot describe this night for me. Before Jim picked me up I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I had bleeding cuts on the inside of my biceps from my father grabbing me and every vein in my arms and shoulders were bulging. I looked at myself in the mirror and said “Did that really happen?”

Sadly enough, it had.

3. Melissa Schreyer

Rob,

                     My one and only Busteroo. I don’t think I can even write about all of the wonderful things that you have done for me or about how much I truly care for you. This past year has been an amazing part of my life. In a year you have given me so much. You have given me all the love that any girl could ever possibly need. We have created so many memories together. Taking walks down my road and to the dock, many many thumb-wars, you always winning at bowling, wrestling, car rides, mini-golfing, arguing about my kitty’s name (Queen Raclygoo), countless squeeeeezes, all of our cute little sayings and actions. You are the only one that I could ever imagine doing all of these things with. Everything from the last day of 11th grade and my 17th birthday to all of our happy memories and our arguments and fights have had a positive influence on my life because no matter how good or bad, they have all been with you. You have become the person that I can talk to about everything, the person who has taught me so much, especially about myself. You have taught me how to be me without trying to impress, how to not care what other people think, and how to stand up for myself. And for all of those things I thank you with all of my heart. You are my one and only. You are my first and only love. You are my everything. I cannot thank you enough for giving me your love and your trust. I know that you will succeed in your future with whatever you choose to pursue. I will be there for you to keep pushing you. I truly love you with all of my heart and will always be here for you. I can’t wait to spend forever with you. I know you will continue to fill all of my days with love, and joy, and smiles, and laughter just like you have done for the past year of my life. I love you more than I could ever love another person. I love you Busteroo. Forever and ever.                                               

                                                     I love you alot, alot x infinity

                                                                    Melissa

                                                            (your Bunnyrab)

This is the exact passage written in my yearbook from senior year of high school. Obviously it was written by Melissa. I chose to display this because in a small way, it tells a better story than I ever could. It shows what we went through in small instances, what we overcame, and that true love is findable and worth waiting for.

I will however fill in some blanks that this passage does not.

Melissa and I started dating on June 18th, 2006 during the tail end of our junior year of high school, two days after the first time we hung out. That hangout came on her birthday, June 16th. She was online and we were talking about how her birthday was boring because she was stuck at home and had nothing to do. She suggested that she might go for a car ride somewhere and I immediately asked if I could tag along. She accepted and said she would pick me up at Adam’s Diner and to meet her there. I asked my friend Clayton, whose house I was at, if I could go to do that and he said sure and added that he would tell his parents we were going to walk around outside and he would remain out until I got back so that they wouldn’t know. I then ran from his house to Adam’s Diner, refusing a ride from my friend Jim and his girlfriend Francesca as they pulled over after noticing me running, and was picked up. I still remember my first line after getting in the car “Does this thing have AC?” We drove around aimlessly for awhile, went to CVS to see her friend, then she drove me back home. For a reason unknown to me then and even now, I asked her if I may give her a kiss goodnight, and she accepted. I shut the car door and walked back to Clayton’s yard.

Two days later her and I met up with Jim and Francesca and went to Bull’s Bridge for a swim. It was during that car ride that I asked her out, receiving a response of “sure.” The rest is history.

I am going to cut myself off here because thinking back, the passage above truly does tell our story quite well. No words that I utter can change that for us. I can say though that I am thankful for the following things:

1. I have always said that I will never use the phrase “I love you” without truly feeling that way about a person. Melissa for me became that person. To this day, no one else outside of family members have heard those words uttered from me towards them.

2. I am thankful for the passion that Melissa has shown for our relationship in trying to hold it together. She gave up going away to a different college to stay with me not once, but twice. For this, I am in her debt.

Nothing more need be said.

4. James/Paula Holmes

This ranking is dedicated to and outlines the greatest set of parents that I have ever known, including my biological ones. From the day I met these two individuals, I knew that they were the type of parents I had always envisioned having myself. They were not overly strict and let their son Jim and I have quite a long leash when it came to our horseplay. To this day, I laugh at some of the things they not only let us do, but took part in themselves. 

I met James and Paula officially in the summer of 2003, (unofficially in the spring of that same year when our car parked next to theirs at our 8^th grade graduation and we exchanged “hellos”) when I attended Jim’s birthday party on the 27^th of June. At that time I didn’t know that I would ever develop the relationship with them that I have now or that one day I could openly say that they represented parents to me.

Together, James and Paula are a joy to know, but it is their individual qualities that made me think of things I had never had in my own family life. These feelings and actions came about after I moved into their home during my senior year of high school. It was during this time that I came to really appreciate all that they had done for me.

Paula was the one that conversed with me the most out of the pair. She always kept me updated about what was going on at her workplace or at the house. Whenever the family was going anywhere, including their yearly vacation to Pennsylvania, she always asked me if I wanted to go. When she would do the weekly grocery shopping every Friday, I would bike the 50 minutes or so (twice in pouring rain) just to go shopping with her simply because I felt like it. It was times like these that I felt like a member of their family.

James represented the ideal father to me and one I have and always will compare to my own. I like James, whom I called “Big Jim,” because he didn’t demand that you respect him, he simply respected you and by doing so deserved that respect in return, which I gave him. After I would get home from school and he got home from work, we would frequently go into the basement and work on various things. The major project that we worked on was fixing up what are called “reels.” These are machines that are attached to mowers and allow the grass on golf courses to be cut very small. Every year, a friend of his that did this type of work allowed Big Jim to fix up all of his reels and then paid him for doing so.

I was very accepting when James asked me to help him with this work and he would pay me for doing so. I can remember to this day sitting in the basement after doing a day’s work and waiting for dinner and thinking to myself “I have waited 19 years to do this kind of stuff.” I truly had not had such a bond with a father figure, not even my own, ever.

There was always work to be done around the Holmes residence, whether it was indoors or outdoors. It might have been the dishes needing to be cleaned off and put into the dishwasher or it could have been mowing the lawn. Regardless of the type of work, I enjoyed doing those chores. I never once objected to helping and most of the time I started doing something without ever being asked to. I knew that I was not going to be lazy around the house from the beginning. After all, these two people had welcomed me into their home without demanding a dime and I wanted to show my gratitude by being treated exactly like their own children when it came to chores and work.  I never wanted to be treated special or as an outsider, and I never was.

To this day, I still consider James and Paula to be my parents. It is obvious that they are not this way in a biological sense but when it came to the roles parents play and the support that they provide, they are my parents in every sense of the word. Their home provided the sanctity that I always longed for (proven to be true most notably one spring afternoon when I was around 15 or 16 when my father and I had argued and I walked out of the house, essentially “running away from home,” and walked 2 hours to their house because it seemed like the right place to go) and I am thankful for that. Thinking back, I am not sure there is a way to fully thank the Holmes’ for what they have given me, both in terms of a home and the parental relationship. I can only hope that this piece and the way that I act today are a small testament of their affect on me.

Poll

Dear Readers

I know, I know, I’ve gotten away from the frequent posts of old. Thankfully, I am actually excited to finish the countdown and move on to other pieces I have jammed into a notebook waiting to be posted. Will finish countdown hopefully by next weekend. Thanks.