Wednesday morning I got up at 6 am and went for a 3.5 mile run. I haven’t run in the morning for a long time because I never feel like it. I wanted to see if it would have an impact on how I felt during the day. The run went well and then I took my son, Sam, to school and drove over to look at a house I am interested in.

While I waited for the real estate agents I noticed that I’ll didn’t feel any better than usual. I still had that blah, unfocused feeling.

The house was great and I had some nice conversations and then headed to work.

My daughter, Kourtney called to say that she had just taken her boyfriend , Chris, who has been suffering from viral meningitis, back to the emergency room. He threw up after class on Tuesday and woke up throwing up on Wednesday. They were performing another spinal tap and she was very upset for Chris.

After that, my girlfriend Wendy called upset because she was overwhelmed with flight attendant school was she participating in. It has been a lifelong dream and the testing has been intense and the job is going to be much more logistically complicated than she thought. She was overwrought with feelings of failure and disappointment.

Then my ex-wife Kim called complaining and worrying about our oldest son, Brandon. She was questioning his choices and asking me questions that I suggested she ask him, since he is living with her now.

I was also worried about my dad who needs a new heart valve, Kourt’s efforts to help Chris when she also needs to focus on her school work and most importantly how I was going to get the apartment clean before Wendy got home!

After I picked up Sam and made supper, I decided to take my sorry ass outside and jumpstart Wendy’s car that had been sitting stationary since Kourt used it and left the key in the “on” position.

I got it jumpstarted and then I took it for a ride to charge the battery. I drove down to the Town Landing, about 2 miles from the apartment, to look out at the ocean on a beautiful night. The light was perfect and the sailboats in the harbor were stunning as they bobbed up and down to the rhythum of the waves. Taking a moment for myself and to just enjoy my surroundings I reached down and turned off the key. I think I actually had a piece of my mind yelling “no don’t do that” as my hand went to the steering column but in that instant I couldn’t pull it all together. The car turned off just as I yelled “shit!” I quickly turned the key hoping that enough juice had gotten to the battery to just turn the engine over once but all I got was that familiar click, click, click sound that I have heard so many times in my life.

That’s when I really started to get pissed squeezing the steering wheel as hard as I could with both hands and shaking it. I think I could have actually pulled it off the column if I hadn’t calmed myself down.

I relaxed my hands and sat there for a moment and pondered my options. I could look for someone and ask for a jump, I could call Sam and have him drive illegally (he only has his permit)over to help me (I seriously considered this) or I could simply collect myself and walk back to the apartment and get my car.

Walking seemed like the best plan so I strolled up the hill and then down RT 88. It was a beautiful night and the walk was nice. I got to the apartment, jumped in my car, drove back to Town Landing, jumped Wendy’s car and drove it back to the apartment.

It was now getting dark and I had to go back and get my car. So I grabbed my goofy orange reflective vest and jumped on the old bicycle, that I bought for $75 at the beginning of the summer so that Brandon, Kourt and Sam could get around when a car wasn’t available, and headed down the road looking like an odd, middle aged man with balance problems as I wobbled slowly down the road.

After a quarter mile I felt pretty good and the whole event seemed to start coming into a humorous focus for me. It was rounding into a good story to tell with a good ending and I was speeding down hill with the wind in my hair. Even the big uphill wasn’t bad as I downshifted and pumped my legs furiously steadily moving forward. I crested the hill and my momentum increased as I changed gears again. This is the point where the derailleur, after many years of use, decided to let go. After a lot of clanking sounds I looked down to see the chain hanging and caught in the spokes.

Now I had another decision to make. Should I just leave the bike there and walk the rest of the way or should I try to use it as a scooter? The scooter option seemed to make sense as there was flat road ahead and a big downhill at the end. I figured I could actually get there faster than walking. So I cocked my butt off to one side so my leg could reach the ground and started pushing myself along at dusk on a busy road wearing my classy reflective vest. I was amazed by how fast my leg fatigued, how slow I was traveling and how funny passersby thought I looked.

I shifted to my other side just as some” tricked out” bicyclist with his fancy lights, flamboyant bike shorts and $1,000, 20 speed road bike passed by and made some remark that was tinged with sympathy but was drenched in sarcasm. That’s when I heard another clanking sound as chain wrapped itself in the spokes again.

Suddenly I was back to that “gripping and shaking the steering wheel” feeling again! I wanted to throw the bike down and then jump up and down on it yelling obscenities as loud as I could. Instead, I tossed the bike to the side of the road, took note of the location and expelled a moderately loud by simple “fuck” and continued my quest to pick up my car.

The rest of the trip was uneventful as I got back to my car, picked up the bike, picked up a 12 pack of Sam Adams at the store and went back to the apartment to drink my beer and tell Sam my adventure. I think it is good for Sam to have a father who makes more mistakes than he does.

The next morning I got up to find out that Chris is feeling much better, Wendy passed her tests and should be fine and Brandon is going to work doing recruiting for Georgetown while he works at a running shoe store and applies to grad school at UMO.

I’m not going to bother running in the morning and I’ll stick with my reliance on Sam Adams.

Praise in Public

I wanted to share the letter to the editor, published in The Forecaster, that I wrote about my kids cross country coaches. I believe that we should praise the people who deserve praise as often and as publicly as we can.

Letter: Falmouth coaches deserve thanks
Published: Aug 31, 2009 8:40 am -
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This fall marks the 10th and final year in a row that one or more of my children will run cross country for Falmouth High School. During that time Danny Paul and Jorma Kurry have shared the coaching responsibilities.

My children's running skills span all levels from elite runner, to good runner, to back-of- the-pack runner. It never mattered to Danny and Jorma what running skills each of my children possessed. What has always come across loud and clear is that they are concerned with each athlete's development as a runner and more importantly as a human being.

I've observed them at over 100 meets and numerous awards banquets. It is amazing how they relate to each student and how they can recall the most minute detail or most important accomplishment of each of one.

My oldest son has graduated from college and he still stays in contact and runs with each of them. My daughter is currently running in college and as I took her to pre-season running camp, we talked about Danny and Jorma and their positive impact on her life.

I believe that being a teacher/coach in today's complicated world is one of the toughest and most important jobs. Thank you Danny and Jorma for doing it so well and making my job, as a parent, easier. I plan on enjoying every minute of this 10th season as I watch my youngest son improve as a runner and a human being.

Cameron Bonsey
Falmouth