Still not an Ironman

In mid 2020, I wrote a reflection on not being ready, able, or focused enough to do an Ironman (No Ironman). That it was okay, and I reflected that some of it was on everything in pandemic being canceled, but honestly that I lost my drive to do it... made me feel less guilty but still something I thought to myself, "later". 

2021 Blog: Dead Last Winner

Well in early 2021 I thought... I was back in school, I was starting to look for my next position, and that I should get back on try at least maybe a half Ironman. My first triathlon of the year I was slow but improving . I thought this was my year, let's go! Unfortunately those plans were short lived, maybe a month or so after serious training started I hurt my knee working at La Casa. I nursed it, took it easy, but ultimately it needed medical intervention and have arthroscopic knee surgery. It was a meniscus repair on my right knee, which had full ACL replacement in 1997. I was worried it would be a major repair, but luckily the work I had done then held up well and it just need a scope. 

I had the scope done in November of 2021 (One More Scar). I was told I would be back at it in a couple months... the training and while rehab and training was hard, I was diligent about it and got back in the saddle quickly, swimming, biking, and running and getting my distance back. In April 2022 I registered for an indoor Triathlon at the Beacon Aquatic Center in Elkhart, IN. It was a sprint triathlon (400 yard swim, 12 mile bike, 5k run)... and as much I didn't feel ready, I pushed it hard, and I WON! 

So I was BACK and it felt good. Summer 2022 I ran well, ran a lot and was running a 22 minute 5k (goal was 21 minutes) and I remember a 10k I ran in Reno, NV with a fraternity brother in July where my pace was stellar despite the altitude. I then was looking for some longer triathlons, maybe even a half Ironman... 

Then, about a month later a pain started in my left foot. I slowed down the running and shortened distances, even went back to PT a little to work through that, and then it spread to my right foot, and then was causing some tendonitis in my knee. So not only did I cancel plans to race, but by September I paused running completely. Went back to doctor, back to PT, and luckily no surgery, but more rest, and to slow down. 

At the end of 2022, work was stressful, my new job was more work than I thought, and I was not running much, and I gained like 10-12 pounds. I was so overwhelmed, I blogged about it (Overwhelmed). So then I made a plan, I started working with a podiatrist, and knew that 2023 would be better...

Well new shoes, orthotic inserts, and now I am back... well slowly. For the first three months of the year I hit all my move goals and in March I signed up for the IronKroc (did it in 2019 and caught the trithlon bug)... you set a monthly goal to hit all the ironman distances (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run). So I capped off the end of the first quarter of the year and pushed it hard, ate well, worked out daily and slowly increased running distances. I actually finished the run distance first and then the swim distance (what I hate the most) and finished the bike on the final day. It was the IronKroc in 2019 that actually got me to start swimming and thinking about triathlons. 

So I am an IronKroc, but still not an Ironman... and I am still cool with it. I shed the 10-12 pounds I gained in in 2022, and have hope that maybe I can keep increasing distances and 

Is there a lesson here, or is this just a blog about how life has been lately? I mean there are lots of lessons, and one is, that writing and blogging is a nice release for me. So I am trying to blog more and document things I am up to... I also thinking writing this will remind to try and take things slow, to be happy with progress, and that pushing too hard can make things break... 

So here is to slowing down, to setting goals and hitting targets, and maybe having some long term dreams that might never happen, but to keep them as options. 

Ivy Tech Graduate (x2)

Introducing, Sam Centellas, certified in Automotive Service Technology AND Maintenance and Light Engine Repair. 

Me and My Degrees
in the shop

A few years ago I wrote about being a college dropout (blog)... I had started my Autotech Certificate in 2012 when I worked at Ivy Tech... I left the college in 2013 and stopped taking classes. I started back at it in 2020, I figured no time like the pandemic to get back at it.
I learned A LOT. 

The biggest thing I learned... is how hard it is being an adult going back to school. WOW. Most semesters I took one class, some semester I took two, all while working a full time job, sometimes while working more than one full-time job... and the whole time being a parent, running my side hustle, trying to stay healthy and trying to stay sane. 

I'll be honest, it was harder than when I got my master's degree. Yeah for real, the time in the shop you can't BS like I could writing papers in grad school. You also have to commit the time, once you tear the brakes down on a car, you can't just shelf it for later, you got to get it done. When you break something, you have to fix it, when you don't know how to do something, just googling it doesn't fix it... you need to tell someone you can't figure it out and ask them to show you how to do it. Then you have to try it yourself, and prove you learned it. 

I also learned about not solving problems with what you think, but with what you know. Car repair isn't about guessing, if that was the case your mechanic would do the wrong repair at least 50% of the time. If when I was 99% sure I knew what was wrong, you still have to test to be sure, and yep, that 1% makes a difference. It made me think a lot about my work, we often trying to solve problems that don't actually exist and then wonder why we didn't solve the problem. We didn't actually test to see what the problem actually was... 

I got a lot of work done on the my Z which was nice... but also did brakes on the family van, my MKZ hybrid, Juan's Z, and lots of other student and school cars (changed the oil on the chancellor's car!). Link below to my Z blog with lots of the cool projects but here is a direct link to my favorite one was all the suspension work I did to get her ready for the 2022 Race Season (which then I barely raced the car...): Here Comes 2022. 

I met more great people... students who were trying to improve their life through technical skills. Students who didn't know what they wanted in life but just liked cars. I connected with former colleagues or friends in different ways... I remember when a top community leader came into the shop on a tour and couldn't believe it was me covered in brake dust tearing up a Toyota Solara with some students. He asked if I was the teacher... nope, here to learn. 

I also learned again, and was reminded how those in trades get treated. Wearing dirty jeans and my Dickies work shirt... means I got treated differently stopping at the store after class. I wrote a blog about that a few years ago (can't find link)... interestingly I thought pandemic taught us how important essential workers are, but I realized that was a lesson quickly forgotten by our country. Also a reminder to many, that an entry auto mechanic actually makes more per hour than I did with my master's degree... 

Lastly... this was a little in honor of my grandpa. He owned a garage, and always wanted his grandkids to be "smarter" than him and make more money. I remember he laughed when I told him I had started an auto tech degree all those years ago... he told me something like you are an engineer what are you going to do with that? I told him, to try to be as smart as you and open a garage (I have a dream of opening a non-profit garage some day). 

I had a lot of stories and posts about my classes, especially on my other blog (Me and My Z). I am actually really proud of these TWO certificates, yeah I started so long ago that my credit tracking was off, and while I planned one certificate, I ended up getting two, and one semester earlier than planned. 

Now debating if I sign up to walk at commencement... 

Scared Shiftless

September 2020, at Gingerman Raceway, my fastest lap, going into turn 11... crash! 

It sounds more dramatic than it was... luckily I ran into a sand trap, and it was just a few hundred dollars worth of body damage and a broken window. (Blog about that day)

What has been dramatic since, is my change in driving. I have been back to that track a handful of times... and I haven't pushed that corner the same since. I know how to attack it, I know the line, I know how fast I can go, I know when to brake, when to shift, when to get back on the gas... but I just can't. 

I got scared, my brakes locked up, I didn't know what was next...

I got scared, I lost control and forgot my training and lessons. 

I got scared, and forget the track safety features and those around to protect me. 

I got scared, when the car came to the stop the first thing I looked for was my fire extinguisher. 

I got scared, and since then racing has been less fast, and less fun. 

I started to reflect on this lately, and how it impacted my driving and racing, but how similar mistakes and fear have driven (or better off distracted me) me off my goals. Not just work goals, but also in my family and personal life. When I attack that corner now, I brake too soon and shift too late, afraid of what might happen. Each time driving away... glad I stayed on track, but bummed it was so slow. I even wore my "Go Fast, Don't Die" shirt last time... didn't help. 

The other day I was speaking at a panel and someone asked ways I gauge businesses owners I work with and how I think about who will be successful. I mentioned that I look for a balance of fear and confidence. I want someone who respects the work, knows it will be hard, but knows they are ready to roll up their sleeves to get it done. Too much confidence, means they will make critical mistakes, not ask for help, get frustrated and maybe walk away. Too much fear and they will shoot themselves short, second guess everything, take too long, and most likely not accomplish their goal and walk away. 

Since that conversation I have thought about all the things that scare me about things that can go wrong... at work, at home, with my kids, in my hobbies, etc. 

I think most people would assume I am super confident all the time... and that is probably part of the vibe I give off, but fear has always been there, but I know I can't let it run my life. Fear of what might go wrong, versus the dream of what is possible. I am scared all the time, and usually my confidence makes up for the fear... but not lately. 

How do I get the mojo back? Maybe part of that is just acknowledging how I feel and why? Maybe part is just needing another shot and saying, next time it's on. 

The 2023 Track Night schedule just came out... I put the Gingerman dates on my calendar. This year I am coming for corner 11... with fear, but with enough confidence to know that I can do it. I can be scared, but I can't let it prevent me from doing what I should be doing... Going Fast, Braking Hard, Shifting, Going Fast(er).

Full Tank of Gas

This past weekend Novalí came to visit to celebrate Heather's birthday. I did my typical morning routine when she leaves, I washed her car, filled the tank, and got her McDonald's breakfast and coke for the drive home. 

As a parent you always feel like you aren't doing enough or the right things. I often felt torn between work and kids, community and children, and balancing all of life's expectations for becoming successful, being a leader and being a good dad. Parenting I think is the worlds biggest challenge. Don't be too strict, don't be too easy, can't do it for them, can't left them completely fail, want to offer options and opportunities, but let them follow their passion. It's a lot, and all along the way you feel like you have no idea what you are doing, half the time making it up as you go along, and then thinking... man how did my parents figure this all out? 

Then you realize... your parents did what you are doing. They did their best, they loved you, and tried to be the best parents they could. And they were. I bet of all the things they actually taught me, I never realized they taught me... but I remember the moments of care, of celebrating wins, consoling loses, buying cake and putting on bandaids. The unspoken ways that you say you love them unconditionally. 

I hope my kids know when I push them it is because I know they can. I hope they know when I step back it isn't because I think they can't, but because I want it to be their thing. I hope they know that I tried to give them a step ahead in life, like my parents gave me. I hope they just turn out to be better than me. I hope they know I love them no matter what. 

It was a nice weekend. We got big desserts for Heather's Bday, I took N and C to the Clemson game, and I was reminded how lucky I am to have these great kids in my life. When I feel like I am failing as a parent, I need to just hangout with them for a bit and get reminded how great they have turned out. One really no longer needs me, one thinks he is stronger than me, and my youngest probably thinks she doesn't need me... but its nice to feel needed, to feel like what you did was the right thing and they know you love them. 

So how do I show that love? I'll be honest, I am not good at it, but for me it looks like a car wash, full tank of gas and a sausage egg mcmuffin. 

5,500 RPM

There is a fine line between pushing too hard, and not pushing enough. The space between leaving too much on the table and risking too much and losing it all. The line between where you were, where you are, and where you want to be... in that space you can find peace and happiness. 

In my Z that line is 5,500 RPM in fifth gear. 

Lesson learned in life, in my Z, as a parent, and at work all point often to the same conclusion. I was reminded on this on my recent track night and the ride heading up to Gingerman Raceway in South Haven. 

On the highway, in 5th gear, when I am humming at 5,500 RPM it just feels perfect. The peace that exists when I am pushing her hard, and feeling that she is giving it her all right back, perfect balance. I am on that line, and I recognized in the Z, why can't I recognize that in real life though?

Their is a balance in knowing I could push a little harder, and she could try more; but would it be too far and is this enough? Maybe she can, maybe she can’t, maybe I save that last little umph for when I need it, save it for the track… 

At the track it’s a little bit of a dance. She has a yellow line at 6,000 but she redlines at 6,500 RPM. On several shifts on the track I get her close to the redline… well past that 5,500 that I know she likes. I push her hard, she does her best, I try not to ask too much, and we both leave it all on the track. 

She doesn’t want to break, I don’t want to make a serious mistake, and we want to be able to ride home together (and not on a tow truck). That night I spun out twice bad, luckily both times I kept her on the track and not off in the "fun" zones (that ruined my previous front spoiler on an off track excursion). 

We had fun, she got hot and dirty, lots of bugs on the windshield, brake dust caked on the wheels, race rubber sling stuck all over, I pop the hood to check the oil, top her off, and pack the car for the ride home. 

Then I get her into 5th gear and wind her up to 5500 RPM. It’s dark out, headlights on, we cruise. She purrs at 5,500. I smile, we make it home, close the garage door and turn out the lights. 

The perfect night, at 5,500 RPM. There were days when she didn't run and I couldn't fix her, and there will be days when we will go faster. The beautiful balance of walking the line of pushing hard, pushing just enough, getting all you can, leaving it all out there, and not crashing the car. The same in life between letting the past go, not letting dreams unrealized ruin the beauty that is around us today. There can be peace and happiness right where I am, I just have to let it be, to see it, to feel.... 

At 5,500 RPM, the line between where it was, were it could be... Thanks Z for teaching me to love where I am... 

Cooking with Grandma

On our recent trip to Florida... Mari didn't pack her iPad. When I realized it, I asked her why she forgot it. She replied, "I didn't forget it, I won't need it in Florida, grandma and I will be busy cooking". 

What? She doesn't go anywhere without it... so I asked, what are you going to be cooking? They had Facetimed a few days before to plan activities for the week and I had suggested they cook or bake. Well Mari proceeded to list all of her favorite things... pie, cake, desserts, pancakes, cupcakes, french toast... whew... man they were going to have a busy time! 

I took the three kids and our trip was just a short four day stop. Lots of great things happened during the week. Like fishing with grandpa, N and C went to Universal together without parents, playing chess, arts and crafts, swimming (of course!) and puzzles, Wii, Hot Wheels.... you name it. This blog though, will be about Cooking with Grandma. 

As a kid, I always remember cooking with my mom. I founding remember, weekends, I used to be a paperboy and that meant Saturday and Sunday up at 5:30AM to pick up papers and get them delivered. Usually I did it on my own, but on big paper days one of my parents would help drive to pick up the huge papers (Sundays or Holidays). Usually after my mom and I would make breakfast. 

I grew up more a mamas boy I think. We would cook, she would teach me how she made hash browns, why she puts milk in scrambled eggs, how hot to cook things, and how to prep and cook some of my favorite things like freshly caught fish or other family favorites. It all served me well when I moved off to college and had to fend for myself. 

If you know Mari, you know she loves snacks and desserts. She is patient and learns things quickly (especially if related to things she likes, like dessert). Her and grandma daily, if not twice a day while in FL cooked or baked. Mari also likes to pretend she is running a restaurant, so she would take orders, set the table, and bring out orders for her customers. It was nice being waited on by Mari, usually the other way around back home. 

They cooked some favorites, a cake, cupcakes, waffles, french toast, scrambled eggs... but they also did a few new things grandma taught her. They made a jello pie, which she ended up not liking, so maybe we try that one or similar again and see. They also did some learning, measuring, cutting, etc. I also loved watching Mari learn how to use a hand mixer... ancient technology, that honestly works better than modern ones. 

Well here are a few photos of my Mom and Mari cooking is up in Florida. I wished they lived closer, but the distance does mean the days we spend together are more precious and fun filled. We packed each day full to the top with things to do and the kids returned tired from that vacation. So it was well spent, and we will be back again soon, hopefully once again not needing iPads. 

American Grown. Bolivian Roots.

My mom got me the shirt, I wore it when they visited two weeks ago. I have been a lot more reflective lately, on how I grew up, things that have shaped who I am, shaped who I am not, and the motivation to be and do certain things. As a mixed kid, kinda immigrant, but born American, kinda poor, but had enough, and since by and large most would say that I "turned out okay" I usually hide the struggles of the past like it didn't help shape me. 

Bolivian Roots
During my time at La Casa de Amistad for sure I spent more time reflecting on where I was "from" when people ask most Latino's or immigrants about their background. Yeah I was born there, yeah it was my first language, yeah my license plate frame says Bolivian on it... 

American Grown
I grew up most of my life not feeling Latino enough, or not fitting into the group that ethnically and socio-economically matched me best. I wanted to be American, but didn't really fit into that ideal, we were the kinda traditional low income immigrant family, dad made less cause of his language skills, mom struggled to work cause she was busy raising 4 crazy kids. 

So where am I going with all this? I don't even know, usually my blogs start with an idea, a point I want to get across, something I want to prove (to myself or others), or just something to get off my chest. I am just here kinda writing cause its been a while and I should I guess. 

In my old age, I feel like I am more honest with my parents, and I think they are most honest with me. On this trip my mom mentioned more about how hard of times we had as kids. My dad working multiple hard jobs (morning paper route, day time roofer) cause without English he could only do hard labor low paying jobs. My mom was running a home daycare cause with her health challenges and four kids it was hard to do anything else, but they had to make ends meet. If it had not been for my mom's parents, not sure how we would of made it. 

I was never thankful enough. Not sure I was actually thankful for their sacrifice until I realized how hard parenting is... and I have it easy. During the trip, on one of our adventures, the kids both took their scooters. My mom commented on a memory, of when Andres and I both really wanted scooters... and our birthdays are close together, and so they got us one to share. We shared a room, most of our clothes and toys, and so it was just one more thing we shared. We didn't know any other way, not that we didn't like it, but I am sure we made it known to my parents that we each wanted one... 

So as my kids both scooted around Notre Dame, my mom shared that memory. I thanked her for the scooter, and apologized if I wasn't grateful back then... today, both my kids have scooters, my oldest has a car, all things I can buy without flinching. Interestingly, I think my kids are probably as grateful (or ungrateful) for those things as I was for my shared scooter... not sure how I will teach them how hard their parents, work for them to have things. Maybe it doesn't matter right now that they get it. 

American Grown. Bolivian Roots. 
I grew up weird. The weird white kid in the ELL classes in 1st grade surrounded by brown faces that I am sure wondered why I was there... Then the poor immigrant kid in the honors AP classes in high school that didn't go on fancy spring break trips or fit in with the kids from the "good" neighborhood. 

Today I am the token Latino who sits in important board rooms, and feels the weight of the pressure to represent his family, his culture (both of them), and still somehow fit in. I am in places because of my background, both of them, serving in both a traditional American role (white male leader), and the "other" often tokenized role at the same time. Often out of place, never without internal conflict, but expected to perform regardless. 

Maybe it is why I am a good negotiator, a great middle man, my life was a constant compromise, a skill I learned through osmosis. A skill I am uberly thankful for, and thankful to my parents for, for their compromise on what they wanted in life, to ensure their kids got what they needed. Those sacrifices, or compromises, provided me with nearly limitless opportunity. 

This second photo is also from the trip, my three kids in the last row there, my sister Raquel in the background, my nephew Javier in the foreground, and my parents. We all gather for my niece Valerie's high school graduation, some of the rare reasons we all can get together. 

We had a great couple days, which get harder and harder as kids grow up, people move, and I am so glad we had the time together. It gave me chances to share with my kids about my roots and my challenges as a kid, and to enjoy their grandparents for more than just extra candy treats, legos building, brownie baking, football games and holiday cards... but for what they provided to me, which has made their lives better. 

It could have been easier, but I wouldn't want it any other way. So to my Bolivian Roots ahead of Father's Day... gracias pop para todo, siempre fue todo que nesesitábamos, y mas. For my American Grown, as I look back... I am grateful for it all, it was perfect. Especially morning breakfasts after my paper route, I think about those mornings all the time. Thanks mom and dad. 

Cocoa Bombs, Cartwheels, and Cartoons

My favorite thing so far in 2022 is that I am home nearly every day when the kids get home from school. This year neither of their schools had programming afterwards so they are taking the bus home. The bus drops them off on our block which is nice, and while the kids can get in on their own, I love being here with them. 

On winter days we made hot cocoa bombs and read a little before watching Ninjago (or other cartoons). These nice spring days they get to play outside before dinner. I often have the time free to hangout, which is fun. Other days I am on Zoom calls keeping tabs on them, saying "Yes/No" to requests for snacks and candy, and reminding them of chores and dishes. 

I love asking them how their day went, even though the answer 99% of the time is "boring" or "the same", it is great greeting them. I come up with new questions to ask to try and get more details from their day. I help them keep their schedule, piano lessons on Wednesdays, Cruz has tutoring at 4PM, Mari doing her reading log, basketball, gymnastics. etc... 

So what's this blog about? What is so special about cocoa bombs and Ninjago? 

For too many years I missed those times... for my oldest she lived with her mom, so I missed the daily lunch horror stories, checking recess injuries, signing school forms... for C and M, aside from during the pandemic, I worked events many nights and I missed most those convos.  The pandemic, and working from home, made me realize how much I was missing out on with the kids. 

Today they did cartwheels while I was on a zoom call. What I get for taking away iPads, but they always get creative, sometimes together, sometimes separately, but we mix it up and break up the week with fun and activities. 

My kids will only be young once, and someday won't want to make cocoa bombs or watch cartoons with their old man... Someday I wont be able to do cartwheels with them... So I am loving this year, and will work to keep my schedule like this as often as possible. 

Now as the weather gets warmer, it might be less cocoa bombs or Ninjago... and while redundant, I just can't wait for the daily interviews on how was lunch, how was your day, and the dreaded, what do you want for dinner conversation... 

Choosing Your Shoes

Shoes. They can make or break your day. They set you up for success or trip you up. I reflected on choosing my shoes... and no not over what matches or is "stylish" enough as Mari would say... but about how hard choosing your shoes often is... 

In the past few days I made a few hard shoe choices. Over the weekend I put on my black dress shoes. Since pandemic started I rarely wear dress shoes, and honestly can’t remember when I put these on last. I had a funeral. I dusted them on Friday. I was off to a viewing a good friend and community leader. 

Saturday morning at the memorial mass I looked down at my shoes. I thought about Greg as a veteran and his black boots. I thought about why we wear black to mourn when we should wear colors to celebrate a beautiful vibrant life. I thought about how much I dreaded putting on those shoes, and walking into mass. 

Monday afternoon I planned a “short” run. I thought I would try maybe a mile or more. I was anxious about it all day and putting the shoes on made me nervous. Usually lacing up my running shoes was empowering, but not since I hurt my knee. In the interim putting them on to run 1/4 mile felt like a boondoggle during rehab… so I held off on using my running shoes until I really started running. 

I planned to run one mile.
Would of been my longest yet… at 1.2 miles the knee felt great and I said let’s do 2.
So I did. BOOM.

Shoes are often times the last thing we put on. However it can be a thought long before, of pain or anxiousness or excitement. They can be empowering or debilitating. 

Since pandemic I think a lot on the little things, like choosing your shoes. Kinda like choosing your attitude, one small thing, you shoes, makes a big difference. 

It was hard slipping on and lacing both my black dress shoes, and my running shoes the past few days. Hoping I won't put those black dress shoes on for a while, and I am planning to lace up those running shoes today... 

Here is to getting to choose shoes more often that make me look forward to activities, that empower me. 

My Friend Greg

When you read his obituary, what you think is was he a real person? It reads like a fictional character in a book, from migrant farmer to nuclear weapons tech in the Air Force, from father to olympic torch bearer, from neighborhood volunteer to reciting the pledge of allegiance for a US President, from driving HS students to field trips to being inducted into the SB Hall of Fame, from opening a small business to help run the bilingual department in our schools, from going door to door to register voters to getting a Sagamore of the Wabash award from the Governor... he did it all. 

When you read his obituary, what you think is wow, what a life! Big family, big dreams, big impact in the community. His family has spread all over the country, he is well respected, he lived a long life, saw a lot, and he will rest in peace and power. 

When you read his obituary, what you won't see the details of the type of mentor he was, the advice he gave, the great coffee conversations at Bill's, the way he hustled for his family, his strong voice on community issues, and his passion for voter registration. You also won't see how much he loved his culture, and how much that guy loved mariachi... 

When you read his obituary, what you won't see is all the little things he did. Like when he came and edged the lawn at La Casa, or painted the curb blue for the handicap spot, or stop at the office to give a $20 donation for a fundraiser we had going on. You won't see that even when doctors told him not to, he did it, cause he had an internal obligation to do it. 

When you read his obituary, what you won't see was the type of friend he was... and that's what I will miss the most. His calls to check, him swinging by the office to say hello, his dedication to doing the right thing, and supporting the things that matter to him, those things I will miss, they reminded me to work harder, be better, and follow a plan to achieve a goal. 

Thank you Greg, your friendship meant the world to me, and so many. Que dios te bendiga. 

Read his Obituary here: SJFH

Read past blogs about Greg: Hall of Fame Chavez (11/17/14), LULAC Trip (7/15/2016), And We Marched (10/8/13)

A few of my favorite memories of Greg below. Click to enlarge. 

The Empty Corner

We usually take the tree down after Jan 6th (Three Kings Day) which was a tradition growing up. We have yet to rearrange other furniture and get things back to pre-holiday arrangement. So there is an empty corner where holiday cheer used to be in the house. 

This year was an interesting year for traditions. By interesting I mean, everything changed. Maybe cause of pandemic, maybe cause of timing and life in general, or maybe cause it's time?

I never posted photos of the tree going up. I did a few shots from the same spot, of the tree getting built. Then ribbon and lights, then ornaments, then the skirt and eventually gifts. Usually it was a process with all three kids, hot chocolate, music and setting up the mantle. This year we couldn't work out time for Novalí to be here to help, uncertainty around holiday travel, and all the life changes... it didn't feel the same, and I ended up not posting any photos of the process. It was my first hinkling of, and why was I hesitant to post, my thoughts around the desire for perfection, and cause it wasn't perfect (Perfect Picture Blog)? 

Now I am just posting a picture of an empty corner, so whats up with that? Well I guess I will include some pictures of the tree as well when it was up. (Enjoy this GIF I made)

I don't know where I am going with this, except the notion of not what is missing from that corner, but what the possibilities are for the corner. Maybe it goes back to be the area for kids art and school supplies. Maybe it stays empty, or I move my coat tree there, or maybe we paint that room and then rearrange it all... who knows. 

I guess in general I have always been an optimist, always looked at the positive, always knew there was light at the end of the tunnel. I think pandemic, career change, family, stress... everything is trying to make me see an empty corner. Trying to make me focus on what isn't perfect about it, what I wish it could be, or even just on what used to be there... 

As someone who generally tries to create change through my work, I find it interesting that now I am personally resistant to change. So it's also a lesson right back at me about how and why change is so hard. 

I see you empty corner, and I raise you unlimited options, and/or just the option to stay the same, and that everything is going to be alright. 

Less Perfect Pictures

I realized, that like everyone else on social media, I always want to post the perfect picture. I think it is why I posted so little this year. After my knee injury I stopped running, so no more running pictures. I changed jobs and honestly not sure what pictures to post of my work from home non-profit start up job. Kids don't really like posing for pictures as much. I didn't want more pity posts about my knee, or things that weren't going "perfect". Lately people were asking why I wasn't posting like I used to... 

Over the holiday break, I posted more, the kids at a game, going bowling, decorating, making cookies, ice skating, giving presents, Facetiming with my family, cooking Bolivian food, etc. All the picture perfect things of a holiday break. So I posted a lot. 

Then break ended, and I didn't post. Cause its not perfect anymore, no one wanted to go back to school, honestly I didn't want to go back to work, and it was all just hard. Personally, professionally, with my family... nothing felt perfect enough to post. 

Reflecting on New Years, looking at the camera roll on my phone, I realized so many non-perfect pictures that I could share. Why do I feel the need to always just put the perfect picture forward? What filter do I need on my life to make it worth sharing? Ha... well I laugh, but it's true. 

Man 2021 was a hard year, coming off 2020 which despite the pandemic was maybe one of my best years. Not a good year despite the circumstances, but a great year. My oldest was home from college for nearly a whole year, I spent more time home with my kids in one year than maybe in the previous ten. I did house projects I had put off for years. I got my Datsun back on the track. So really 2020, was a great year. Is it maybe what made 2021, and the non-perfect things, worse? I don't know. 

What I do know, is that I, and we all, need to just start being more real. I think we will all feel more real. We can be real about how we feel, what we want, where we are going, where we aren't going... Ah. 

So I cruised my camera roll and I thought I would share the two pictures here on this post. The first... chores... yeah the glory is in building the Lego cars, its not in the cleaning the heat registers in the toy area looking for missing pieces (we vacuumed up 3 lego men, several nerf bullets, lots of random toys, but of course not the one we were looking for). The second picture is my maybe 10th attempt to customize a Hot Wheels Datsun 510 Wagon... I been waiting for it to be finished, to look perfect, and let's just say at this point it is a foregone conclusion that perfection will not be reached. 

So what is the point of this blog? Is it just another excuse about why I am not posting enough? Ha... well maybe, cause you know I couldn't think of the perfect thing to write. I never make NYE Resolutions, and I am not now either, but I am saying that in 2022, I will have much less focus on finding perfect pictures. I will try to spend more time enjoying the process, call my mom more often, pass the time with things I enjoy, and trying to lose less Legos. 

One More Scar

Summer of 1997 I had an ACL replacement surgery and had my meniscus scoped. It was a pretty big scar, a couple actually, it was a long healing process and despite the hard work post op I never ended up playing soccer like I had wanted to... the injury happened my senior year, a season with a lot of promise, was cut short just a few games into the season by the injury. 

Summer 2021 my knee didn't turn just right getting up and I knew something was wrong. I babied it, I went to the doctor, who did X-rays and recommend physical therapy. I did that, followed orders, but no major improvement. I was not in pain, but I couldn't really run, and my activity was very decreased. So back to the doctor and got sent to see an orthopedic surgeon. 

There I was given two options, pain management to keep current activity levels, or surgery to regain my normal activities. I had been planning more triathlons, and hopefully a 70.3 Ironman... but of course those plans were all stopped with no running, biking or swimming at all since May. 

I chose surgery, easy choice, I love running, and enjoyed the challenge that triathlons brought me and I wanted to continue. 

November 11, 2021 I had my meniscus repaired. In the grand scheme of things it is a fairly minor, and honestly becoming routine surgery. I think my crutch picture got me more sympathy than I deserved but I appreciated everyones concern. 

That was three weeks ago. Today I rode a bike for just over 20 minutes. I have a long way to go, I won't be able to run they say now until maybe February (was originally hoping for January). Not sure when I can get cleared to swim, no rush there I hate swimming, but it is an important part of triathlons. :)

So I wanted to check in since my last post on social media was about my surgery. Interestingly in the past month or so I also had surgery on my eye, and my Z even got a new scar... turning around at my garage space I hit a commercial truck... so my and I both have new scars. HA. (at least I can laugh about it)

Don't worry I am taking my time and following doctors orders. Doing PT three times a day at home, now twice a week at a professional facility and icing and doin all the things to be back as soon as possible. 

I think scars are like visible memories. Reminders of pain, loss, but also of growth, repair, renewal, a reminder of just how strong our bodies (and skin) really are for us. This year I got a few more scars, and hopefully good comes of most of them.

Well here goes to December, a new month, heading into a new year, getting ready to see what this knee can do, finish up my Z work, and hopefully start a new normal in 2022. 

Learning To Lose

Cruz's Pop Warner team ended their season on Sunday. They lost 19-18, there was crying, there was yelling at refs, there was even yelling at coaches, just overall lots of yelling and emotions. It's the part of sports I don't like, the ugly side, the anger, the desire to place blame, desire to take credit for luck, and just all the negative that comes from competition. We don't do enough to learn and teach through that though, so I wanted to be sure Cruz still got something from all of that... 

During the regular season they had a losing record. In the playoffs they won two in a row, going farther than I thought, and that my schedule planned... but I was excited for him with each win. His smile, his excitement, his smack talking, his boost in confidence. I mean they didn't expect to win a state championship, and they are 10, they will have many other chances. 

I was honestly disappointed in my side of the fans, I too was frustrated with the refs, but hey that's life. The calls don't, and won't, always go your way. Learning how to lose is important, learning that you can only control what you can control is a valuable life lesson. I was pleasantly surprised though, as usual, by Cruz.... all the other players were crying (nothing wrong with crying for the right reason) and complaining and he told me, "I am not sad, it's my first year playing and we made it to the third round of the playoffs!" 

Despite their record (regular season or playoffs) the season has allowed some important lessons. Obviously team work, preparation, importance of focus, why we practice, etc. are all good lessons. All transferable to real life, and even lessons directly from football to remember that your legs are stronger than your arms. They lost their first game of the season, and until the playoffs maintained a losing record. 

So the lesson midseason was, how do we lose and stay positive? 

Cruz is super competitive, he might get that from me... he likes to win, he likes to talk smack, he is confident in who he is and what he knows... often times to his detriment. He thinks he is good in school, but he doesn't get all As... likewise on the field he thinks he is the fastest, most accurate passer, and best player on the team. He is actually second string (started a couple games), plays enough, and above all else has fun. He is in it for the game, not the win... and long term that means he will win more than he loses. 

Whereas I love his confidence, and in the long run it will serve him well, his teams losses have been good for him. Learning to lose is maybe one of life's most important lessons, maybe followed closely by learning how to win (another blog for another day). 

My other favorite quote from him post game, and if you know him, he is good at stats... "Papi, the first time we played them we lost 12-0... so this time we only lost by one, and they are the best team (I think undefeated all season)". 

I think of all the titles I have had in life, coach is one I have never felt ready for, but one that I hope to have some day. I enjoy watching him play, being able to be there for most of his practices, and watch him grow and develop. He is making new friends (its not a school team, so they all come from lots of schools), learning to be humble, learning to play as a team, learning to lose, with poise and grace and purpose. 

So lesson at the end of the season? Losing doesn't define you, you do, focus on the positive and get ready for your next shot, its coming up quick. Complain too much and you'll miss it. 

He wants to play next year. Not cause he thinks his team we will, but because he hopes to be better. 

Overwhelmed

The last few weeks I have been overwhelmed. Not just at work, but at home, with friends, with family, with everything. It is maybe the compounding of it all that overwhelmed me. In all honesty, it's a new feeling for me, so I struggled with it, I normally know what to do, I am the guy who helps others, but this time I was overwhelmed, and it made me anxious, depressed, and honestly a few times was straight up debilitating. 

Before you stress out for me, let me be clear, sometimes my feelings of being overwhelmed, came from positive things. Regardless though, it all contributed to my feeling of being completely out of whack the past few weeks (months honestly). I apologize if my stress lately impacted our relationship.

So what has me overwhelmed you might ask? Let me tell you. 

My work... For eight years I belonged to La Casa, now I don't. Its hard constantly correcting people about where I work, answering questions on why I left, was I forced out, did I want to leave, did I think their future looked good... so many questions, about a big piece of my identity that I lost. It is depressing feeling like, yeah I used to be the important La Casa director. 

My running... Its been nearly 3 months since I got injured while working on projects at La Casa. Time didn't heal it, physical therapy didn't, and feeling like we have made no progress is really depressing. A large of my identity has been running, then biking, and building up my triathlons...  It is depressing thinking that I was a couple months away from attempting a half Ironman and then squatting down while volunteering sidelined me. 

My community... the out pouring of support from friends, clients and La Casa connections was honestly overwhelming. It was nice when people offered me a job, ha... I feel like anyone working in the non-profit industry is recruiting, but I got a cool new gig it's why I left (no drama ya'll it was just time, and good timing). 

Like I said earlier, some of the overwhelmed feeling came from positive things... excitement of the new job, so much support and congrats as I left, but overwhelmed is overwhelmed. 

The last month I have not been me, mixing up appointments, forgetting things, being moody, wanting to avoid places I normally like to go, wanting to be alone... I am a social butterfly but lately I just wanted to be alone and left alone, maybe so I can process and get this feeling of being overwhelmed over with, and then I realized it wasn't the list of things above that were actually overwhelming me and making me not want to go out as much.... 

My identity for the past eight years just changed. "Hi, I'm Sam, I work at La Casa de Amistad". What do I say now? I used to complain that describing what La Casa was to people was hard, and giving out my email to people super hard (sam@lacasadeamistad.org) since it is so long! Well now describing CDFI Friendly South Bend takes a whole background story and pseudo sales pitch, and not sure how I did it, but my web address is now longer than ever (www.cdfifriendlysouthbend.org). 

So again, my apologies if my transition in my work life negatively impacted our relationship. I needed to get this all off my chest as part of closure for one chapter, excitement for the next one, and to take a deep breath of calm for once. 

To others who feel overwhelmed... holler, I am no expert in all that, but I am handling it as best I can, and I know you will also, but if I can help, let me know. 

Reset. 194 Miles. Refresh.

Reset. 

Last week I had the chance and found the time (and weather cooperated) to go back to Gingerman Raceway for a track event with the SCCA. I was nervous all week, I just had a little car work done, will the Z be fine, will it still be fun despite all the work stress swirling, is it worth missing kids activities that evening... 

As I pulled out of the driveway I thought, let's hit reset on the trip odometer and see how many miles this back and forth trip will be when it is done. When I got home I had done a total of 194 miles. It is 65 miles to the race track, about the same back of course, so that means I drove about the same 65 miles around the curves of the track. 

When you are prepping to drive on a race track, at least for me... is one of those those nerve racking things... that leading up you are in knots, you are stressed, you worry the car will fail, worried you will fail, worried you will crash... worried something really bad might happen. 

When you are done on the race track, at least for me... is weight lifting, stress relieving, powerful energy building of... yeah I just did that... and I got to do it for 65 miles that night. 

I felt like I hit reset on me. 

Since then my life trip odometer has gone a tad more than 194 miles. I am realizing more and more that I have to find more times to hit reset. Maybe I can't go to the track weekly (that would be cool though) but I need to be able to look around, enjoy things, be present, and enjoy life more. 

When I am on the track, just Me and My Z, I zone out a little, I smile more, I grit my teeth hard in the corners, I talk to my car and whisper sweet nothings to her to keep going, I just enjoy my car, my hobby, my time. 

As a parent your identity gets tied to your kids, or as a leader it gets tied to your work, there are so many things in this world taking your time, and trying to take your identity. 

With all the changes coming in my life with work, new boards, leaving boards, kids school, family, etc... I need to measure my mileage, check on my mental health, and I need to hit reset. So maybe here we go, time to refreshed. 

Reset. 

For Harold and Mildred

I often post about my immigrant background, especially as it relates to work (La Casa) and my dad's side of the family. Well the past two weeks I thought a lot about Harold and Mildred, my mom's parents.

My grandpa owned Coates Tire in Saginaw, MI. He never even started high school, was a military vet who worked hard in a tough industry... working on cars. It was one of the ways him and I connected, I loved cars and he worked on them, and always look back and wish I had spent more time with him talking cars. 

Last month I joined the Board of Trustees for the Studebaker National Museum in South Bend, IN. I remember when I told my grandpa I was moving to South Bend he cracked a joke about something Studebaker and that he never liked working on them or something... but anyhow at our big Concours Show last week one of the guys there showing off his car reminded me of grandpa. My mom would tell stories of how proud grandpa would be when he got his first new new car, and made them all go for a drive. 

My grandpa taught me to give people a shot. To learn to explain things to people in ways that make sense to them. He taught me loyalty, taught me to always be respectful, and that no matter what happens, there is always a solution. He never finished school, so I think something he felt like he wasn't as "smart" as us grandkids with fancy college degrees. We all knew he was smarter than us all put together. He never found a challenge he couldn't best, and monthly during college, my grandpa who couldn't of afforded to go to college himself, sent me pizza money. 

My grandma worked as a teller with a local savings and loan. When we first moved to the states, my older brother and I lived with my grandparents. It was a few blocks from her job, and my grandma diligently got us ready for school and headed off to her office. She was a proud professional and heading to work reinforced to us kids that greatest generation work ethic they were known for. I remember it was years later, that my mom wrote reflecting on her life growing up, and it included the news article of my grandma being robbed at gun point as a teller! As a board member today of a large credit union (NDFCU) I think about grandma when we talk about staff security and how we treat our employees and the pride our staff have of a hard days working helping people out financially. 

I had the pleasure of having all four grandparents growing up. I don't get to Saginaw, MI as often as I would like, but when I do I usually drive by where Coates Tire was... I often compare South Bend's automotive past to my hometown with its General Motors past. 

So this blog is a shout out to my American roots, to Harold and Mildred from Saginaw, MI. They were my first roof in this country, they were my first ride to school, and I hope that I continue to honor what they taught me today through my work and actions. Love you two, miss you. 

Past blog about grandpa: Greatest Grandpa Harold 
Past blog about grandma: Lessons from Grandma Millie

Miguel for Ward 6

Yesterday my brother stepped into the ring. He ran for city council in Oxford, MS. He ran as a Democrat. He ran against an incumbent Republican. He ran knowing the odds were not in his favor. He ran know the state leans a little red (or a lot). 

Sometimes you step into the ring, not just to try to win. Maybe not even to get a knock down. Maybe just to put a cleverly placed jab. Maybe to get one good clean swing. Maybe you step in knowing you’ll get knocked down. 

You always step into the ring to tell the opponent you aren’t scared. You always step in ready for their best, and to try and give your best. Sometimes your best isn’t enough. But you always let them know, you aren’t scared. 

Thank you Miguel for stepping up, getting in the ring, and not being scared and showing them what you are made of. 

Proud of you Bro! 

Bullies and mowing my lawn.

Today was interesting to say the least. After work I spent time with the kids and Cruz mentioned getting bullied... a kid told him he was going to beat him up. I said, what did you do, and he replied, "I ignored him". 

So we talked about bullies, interesting timing for me, as I had a rough day. So we talked, and I told him yes that is what we do, and that never let a bully make you feel bad about yourself. Mari jumps in, "We know, you always tell us that"... yes I replied and I asked why... "I don't remember" she replied. So I told them again, never let a bully make you feel bad, you should feel bad for them. They are hurting and want to make you hurt to feel better about themselves. I added, that you never return mean with mean, it gets you nowhere, it makes you a bully as well. 

Then we want home, they did trash while I mowed the lawn. Nothing calms me more after a long day than mowing the lawn. Not sure why, but it has always been very therapeutic. We work in a complex world, when projects are never finished, visions are never complete, one strategic plan gives way to another, and so many things are theoretical with no true end. 

While the lawn will need to be mowed again, tonight it is done. Tonight, I started it, I finished it, and I took a picture of it. I accomplished it. No one complained, one neighbor actually stopped me and complimented me on it (also good timing, thanks divine intervention). There are a lot of ways to mow the lawn, I have my way, others have their way. 

Today was interesting. I had a good talk with my mom and dad. Sat and chatted with my oldest. We will see where tomorrow goes. 

I couldn't have asked for more perfect timing to have a bully lesson with the kids. Glad that was put in our path today, and glad that I was reminded how important it is to be kind, to be gentle with others, and most important gentle with myself. Then my favorite poem came to mind. 

from Desiderata - Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit...

Full poem here: https://mwkworks.com/desiderata.html

Dead Last Winner

A couple weeks ago I did a triathlon. I didn't feel like it was an achievement so I didn't post, and then I got busy. I mean it was an indoor one, a short sprint one, I had the date wrong so it was a week earlier than my training plan was set up for, and I came in dead last. 

I immediately was grinding on all the excuses. I mean there were only 11 male competitors, and all experienced (well it looked like it), and people kept coming over to talk to me during the biking part, and yes I had trouble getting the treadmill at my pace, and like I mentioned I never got my trial run (I planned to do the triathlon as a test run the weekend before). Plus I always have the "I hate swimming" triathlon excuse about why I didn't do well. 

Well I am here to say, I am proud of my times. Last or first, it was an accomplishment. Yeah I hate swimming will always be my excuse, but honestly, I should of celebrated more. It was a big deal, I did something I hate (swimming), I did something I love (running), and I didn't care how I looked or how it turned out. 

No matter what, I won, I am a winner. I beat the pandemic, I beat my fear of the swim portion, and I continue to beat the desire to sit on the couch and do nothing. So maybe you are out there feeling like you can't, but hey, you can, you might come in last, but you will finish... and be a winner.

Covid has made the world weird, and one thing we need to do is celebrate the wins, even when they were a loss. Yeah I came in dead last, but hey, I completed another triathlon! So that is something I should celebrate, and something I will brag about... now if only i can get my butt in gear and work on some Ironman training then I can really celebrate, even if I come in dead last.