April 20, 1999

I saw on Instagram today someone commenting to the effect of "Have fun with all the posts of your friend smoking weed today!" It was clearly from someone who doesn't smoke weed. That's fine. And I get that, ESPECIALLY with today falling on a Saturday, it will likely be a well-celebrated "holiday." Cool. You do you. 4/20 has never been about that for me, and my senior year of high school changed this date forever.

I am from Lafayette, Colorado and a proud graduate of Centaurus High School. I am the class of 1999. Lafayette is north of Denver in Boulder County. Columbine High School is south of Denver.

Now please, I cannot and will not compare my experience on that day to those who were at Columbine. According to Google Maps, it's a nearly 40 mile drive from Columbine to Centaurus. For many, Columbine is a foot-note in history. For those of us who were in high school in the Denver area that day, it's a memory seared into our brains.

The Columbine attacks are more vivid in my memory of the 9/11 attacks. I suspect there are a lot of reasons for that.

I remember when I first heard what was happening. I was in my car. Centaurus was an open campus, which meant when kids didn't have class, we could leave. It was a Tuesday. I had classes first, second, third, fifth, and seventh periods. At some point during the day, likely during sixth period which was my girlfriend's lunch period, I left the school. The radio station we usually listened to was carrying live news coverage.

We were horrified. This was not the first school shooting in the country, but it was close to home and it was the biggest to that point. Some of us knew kids there. I'm fairly confident I didn't go to seventh period. I was glued to the radio in my car, or in my friends' cars.

We left school that day thinking that though a horrible event had happened, no one had been killed, but that was because at that point, the first responders hadn't gotten in to the school, so despite the fact that the kids who'd gotten out were reporting bodies, the news was running with the official story from the responders, which was responsible.

My closest friend on this earth, who really is my brother, but not blood, was at the doctor's office that day. The initial reports he saw said "CHS" without giving the name of the school. For the briefest moments, he thought his school had been attacked.

You might know this, but high school kids are notoriously selfish and narcissistic. For many of us, that was the first day we really felt deep empathy. Yes, we'd all had the capacity for sympathy and of course had given that to friends who'd broken up, lost pets, or lost loved ones. We weren't heartless. However, this really felt like this could've been us. We ached for those kids who went through this. Our pain, obviously, wasn't even close to theirs, but we grieved alongside them.

That day marked a turning point. Safety at school wasn't a given any longer. We'd always done fire and tornado drills. Now, as an educator, I regularly talk my students through drills that are related to Columbine and other similar attacks, of which we've seen too many. The reality is that as a teacher, I have to assure my kids that I will do everything in my power to keep them safe, even if that means sacrificing myself (Though I do joke with them that I will stand at the door to my classroom with a chair drawn back like a baseball bat. It always relaxes them as we talk about heavy things.).

I'm a liberal. I'll admit that. I don't think I've anything to apologize for in saying that. However, I don't think either side of the gun debate that erupts every time (again, far too many times) this kind of thing happens has it right. Or even really close.

More guns is definitely not the answer. We really should put the idea of arming teachers to bed. I know there are a few who would be fine with having them. Every teacher I know is responsible and would use it only when absolutely necessary. However, having that in the classroom isn't safe.

I'm not going to advocate for removing guns entirely. I know it'll get interpreted as such anyway. The reality is that the conversation NEEDS to involve tighter regulations on guns and destigmatizing mental illness so those who need help feel comfortable reaching out whenever necessary (no one would ever tell someone with a compound fracture to just shove the bone back in their skin and get over it).

The mental health aspect of this epidemic was brought into stark relieve this week with an 18-year-old woman flying from the Miami area to Denver who was "infatuated" with Columbine. Every district in the Denver-area, and many beyond, were closed out of fear for the lives of students and staff. She was, sadly, found after completing suicide. I cannot imagine the terror and difficulty faced by staff, students, and families in Denver over those 48 or so hours.

April 20, 1999 is a day that will haunt me forever. So many people talk about where they were when they heard and watched coverage of September 11, 2001, or Kennedy's assassination, or Pearl Harbor. The names of those 13 lives stolen that day key a visceral reaction in me and I think back to sitting with my friends in the library at Centaurus, making ribbons out of navy and silver ribbon as our way of standing with the Rebels of Columbine. I remember so many things that day.

I will never forget 4/20/99. I ache for those lost, and I ache each time something like this happens again. I wish we'd learned and applied all those lessons that day, but we didn't. I pray it never happens again, but prepare myself to pray, again, for those killed in acts like this that are carried out in places of worship, businesses, movie theaters, and other gathering places across the country I love.

I want us to do better.

Fatherhood

So, let's take a little turn. I follow politics and the general conversations in the world more closely than many, so I feel like my posts were heading in a somewhat political direction. That's not the intent of this outlet.

I've long toyed with how to address the fatherhood issue. Okay... long's probably the wrong way of looking at this as I've been a father now for *checks watch* fifteen and a half months. (Sidenote, Keya and I will not be those parents who are talking about their 26 month old. Months till eighteen, then half years). Even though it's been a little over a year of actual fatherhood, the idea's been on my mind a LONG time.

I always wanted two to three kids. It seemed like a perfect number. I also wanted boys and girls. In fact, if we're being really honest, I always thought I'd prefer to have girls. I really don't know why, but that was kind of my thought.

In college, my sophomore roommate and I had a plan. We'd have live-in girlfriends before the year in the apartment was up, then be on our way to getting married before college was over. We forgot to tell the women of Colorado Springs that was our plan. Needless to say, college went on and I had girlfriends, but nothing ever moving to the point of long-term.

Nevertheless, I got out of college without the prospect of marriage, let alone kids, so life went on. I could be a selfish, self-serving bachelor. Yes, again, girlfriends, a couple who I even thought were going to be long-term (some will tell you that was all of them in the first couple of dates...), but nothing stuck.

It's completely arbitrary, but by the time I hit 30, and there was nothing on the horizon, I began to allow myself to consider the lifelong bachelor life. I had a couple reasons. One, all my cousins and my brother on my mom's side were married (we hardly spoke to Dad's side), so ONE of us had to stay single, right? AND, it turned out as much as I fancied myself a Ted, I was much more Barney most of the time. (HIMYM reference)

It was that same time frame that I made the decision to move from Colorado to Nebraska. Wanna learn more? Go WAY back in these blogs (to, like, 2011). Now I've been a committed Husker fan for close to 30 years now, and many around me joked that I'd meet my wife within six months of moving to Nebraska.

I did. One problem, however, was that I was dating someone else at the time. Now, there were other factors complicating things but nevertheless it took us awhile to start dating. By the time we got married, I was 32.

Like I said, I'd always wanted two to three kids. But now, as I'm doing the math, I was down to two or fewer. The reasoning was simple, at this point, my parents would be in their late 80s or 90s when my kids graduated high school. That happening generation-after-generation isn't terrible appealing. And though I realize that men can have kids much later in their life than women can, I didn't want to be in my 40s with an infant.

Y'all are doing the math now. Wait, Ty. You're 32 at this point in the story. (Which is dragging on, BY THE WAY). You have LOTS of time to have three kids and not be in your 40s when they're infants. I should also add that one of the things that Keya and I agreed on when we were dating and engaged was that kids would wait until we'd had time to be a married couple. Travel, grow, establish ourselves. Oh, and she wanted to be done (or almost done) with her PhD.

So we went over four years before we had our first son. I was 36 when Everett was born. My dad was 37 when I was born. Keya and I are trying hard to make sure he's MOSTLY out of diapers when he has a sibling. (Before you start to get excited, no, this is not some announcement about another pregnancy).

Now, that's a lot of background to tell you this: Being a father is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. Ever. I know a lot of people say that. Let me tell you, that selfish bachelor never really went away (still hasn't). I was very worried about how having a kid would change our life. I was concerned that things I'd love to do, I wouldn't be able to do at all, or at least nearly as much.

I'll never forget the first time I saw Everett. If you've never had the pleasure, seeing a baby in the seconds after it's born is gross. It is. But it's the single most emotional moment of my life. I don't cry. Ever. It's cause I'm profoundly broken (a blog for another day), but I. Don't. Cry.

I didn't that day either, but it was as close as I've been since about sixth grade. That selfish bachelor had a whole new perspective.

As crazy as it seems to me, well, or it would have seemed to me before December of 2017, every decision now is based in Everett's best interest. I really don't have the selfish impulses I did.

I love coming home to this kid. He's a little over fifteen months old, and he's running everywhere, full of personality, picks up baby sign like it's his job, and has the cutest quirks. Also, he's completely adorable.

It's funny the way that even a fifteen month old plays differently with Mom and Dad. He and I roughhouse more than he does with Keya. Sure, that's relative with a baby so young, but it's true.

You might have some idea from, in particular, the last couple blogs about how Keya and I have talked about raising Everett. The reality is, even though he gets gifts that are mostly "boy" gifts, there will be very few things we won't allow him to try. Dance? Sure. Basketball? Absolutely. Gymnastics? Don't get too attached, you'll likely be over six feet tall, but sure. And there's no such thing as boy colors or girl colors.

Fatherhood's been the most incredible journey for me. Both getting there and now the short period of time I've been there. I know it's trite, but it's so much more than I had ever imagined. I'm so grateful that Everett is mine and I get to share this journey with Keya. I love fatherhood. I love my son more than anything, but don't look for the "to the moon and back" social media posts. I don't think I need to advertise that.

Scouts, Razors, and the Man Cold

Let me start this with a phrase that will turn some people off based on the content of this blog, "In the era of #MeToo"...

I will preface a good bit of the rest of this by saying that I do fancy myself somewhat of a feminist. I don't subscribe to the idea that women having the same rights and opportunities that I have somehow steals rights and opportunities from me. Admittedly, I'm also a white male, so privilege is stacked up here. Oh. Stacked up about 6'7". One has to note that there is a lot of privilege here.

So, on to the title of this entry. The title of this changed when I woke up with a brutal cold and I thought, what the heck? It kinda fits. The trope goes that men have a minor cold and cannot get out of bed, whereas women will be fighting three kinds of pneumonia, the flu, possibly meningitis, and gangrene, but still getting the kids off to school with lunches while tending to her barely ailing husband.

This has always annoyed me. In fact, there are quite a few things we'll talk about that have bothered me. This is probably because my dad, who is my greatest role model, rarely missed a day of work. While he'd tell us he was sick, he didn't act any different unless it was REALLY bad. My wife will tell you that I often will get sick and not even tell her until I'm over it. Often, I don't take medicine. That's not because I'm against meds, but I frankly want to know when my symptoms are subsiding, not be unpleasantly surprised when they come back six hours later.

DRAMATIC SUBJECT CHANGE WITH NO SEGUE

Hi. I'm Ty Peteranetz, Eagle Scout. When I was on my Eagle Board of Review as a 15 year old, two questions really stuck. One we were coached on how to answer. That question was, "What will you do after you are an Eagle Scout?" or something like that. The coached answer is, "Once an Eagle, always an Eagle."

The other one that has really stuck with me was something like, "Do you think that girls should be allowed to join Boy Scouts?" My answer was simply that I thought they should. Now, before you start accusing me of having 15-year-old boy reasoning for that, I did, but more important to me was the fact that the Girl Scouts don't have an award with the prestige of the Eagle award.

Now in the world where Boy Scouts has officially changed their name to Scouts BSA, and all levels of scouting are open to young women, I'm thrilled that this has been a topic of conversation within the scouting community for better than twenty years. I'm sad it took so long, but glad it happened.

Again, it absolutely doesn't dilute the award with more people now able to attain Eagle. I'd be proud to be in attendance at the first Eagle Court of Honor where a young woman is awarded the rank I've proudly held since 1997. In fact, Scouting BSA, if you're reading this, please get me in there.

Finally, the razors. NO I WILL NOT BE BOUND BY THE ORDER OF MY TITLE! That Gillette ad. Oof.

First off, I loved it. One of the phrases that has really driven me nuts since I became a teacher is "Boys will be boys." Here are my problems with that phrase: 1) It excuses behaviors that boys absolutely can control and 2) It makes it seem as though boys are not capable of doing otherwise.

K. So let's start at the beginning. What really happens with this is that behaviors that are inexcusable with girls or even less-masculine boys are allowed because "that's what boys do". Why? Why do boys do that? Because we allow it. Because boys, specifically certain boys, are expected to break the rules for some reason.

To the second point, there have been quite a few times lately where it seems like men are treated as incapable of self-control. I feel like it never struck people that the self-control men seem to lack is learned in adolescence when we say that boys will be boys, as opposed to teaching them correct decorum.

In that Gillette ad, we're suddenly rewarding men for acting human. As mentioned previously, I love the commercial. I actually love the run of corporations making social stands. When I first watched the commercial, I found myself actively rooting throughout. For what? I don't know. I was excited.

This isn't quite where I found this ending, but I never felt comfortable in the traditionally masculine stereotypes. I played volleyball and tennis in high school. I was also 6'5" and weighed less than 170 pounds when I graduated high school. Football, for example, wasn't really going to work for me.

Toxic masculinity is problematic. I'm not saying I haven't partaken in it from time to time, but it's not good. The fact that more and more you're seeing a wide array of examples of what it means to be a man, or woman, or whatever, means more and more people can be comfortable with themselves.

I'm glad these things are changing. I know I come from a unique perspective, but I'm glad that more and more people are finding opportunities. We're not even close to where we need to be, but each step can be celebrated.

Why Would You Say That?

So, this past weekend, the club volleyball team I coach participated in the Asics President's Day Classic in Omaha. I couldn't have asked for a better weekend from the team. Every single player got better, and I literally saw seismic changes in the course of just a couple of points.

It brings me, however, to the title of this entry. On two different times Sunday, an official or a coach who had been on the other side of the net told me that they were impressed that I coached my team all the way till the end. Huh?

My first thought was, that's literally my job. My job is to help these young athletes get better, learn from every mistake, and grow their competence and confidence in volleyball.

Then it hit me, and I've watched and commented on this a lot, but my humility (yes, I swear I have some), gets in the way sometimes. I felt like I was doing the bare minimum, but there are coaches I see ALL THE TIME who are doing so much less.

My style of coaching has always been super-engaged. It's the only way I think about it. I'm not trying to make a spectacle, though I know I sometimes do. I get caught up in the emotion of the match in much the same way my players do. Although I like to think that most of the time I can be calm and reasoned when need be, and I try not to get too hot-headed.

Though I've definitely not always been perfect, I try to take the lessons that I imperfectly use in teaching, specifically praise in public, criticize in private. The times I haven't stuck to this, I've tried to make sure I apologize to the athlete in question.

I certainly have tried not to scream at my players in front of a whole gym. I don't think that gets you any place as a coach and it sure doesn't fit my style. Again, the times when I have, I've tried to make it right with the athletes.

One has to acknowledge that all players respond to different coaching. There are absolutely athletes who thrive when getting called out in front of large groups. However, that's not my personality, and I know it comes off as artificial and contrived.

Rarely have I been without something to say to the players on the court. That's why it's so easy for me to coach all the way to the very last point. I've also seen some spectacular comebacks in my day, and don't ever want to deny the players that opportunity because it feels as though I've given up on them. It's not who I am.

Prior to now, did I think of my technique as teaching great lessons to my players? No. I really didn't. However, being engaged with your team every point conveys the message that they're still important, valuable, and can be successful, even if things aren't going perfectly.

One of the things I love about the club that I have the privilege to coach for is that's exactly what our club director expects. The expectation is that we coach the kids to improve every point and play the right way, and then winning will come. We know if we train the girls correctly in practice, and enforce that "We will get better every point" mindset, the wins will come in spades. The club season is a marathon, not a sprint. So far, every year I've coached with this club, it's been the case that the teams have been much better at the end of the season. I'm so grateful to still be part of the organization.

This whole, "Why Would You Say That?" thing got me thinking about something down the same lines that's always bothered me. The idea that dads "babysit" their own kids. I'm sorry, but that's unfathomably stupid to me, and kind of offensive.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized we say it for the EXACT SAME REASON as the coaching comments from the officials and other coaches I mentioned earlier. Other dads set the bar so low. The idea that dads only parent part time, or from time to time is sort of like babysitting.

If you read this and take issue with this last bit, that's fine. So far, in my marriage, the division of responsibility has been pretty good, I think (signs that I'm probably wrong....). I SO look forward to coming home every day and playing with Everett. In fact, I look forward to it more each day because I swear to God he learns how to do something new and fun daily.

I don't babysit Everett. I never have. I never will. He's my son. I parent him. Sometimes well, sometimes not as well, but I signed up to be his parent, not his babysitter.

Ideally, the type of coaching for which I received the compliments I did over the weekend would become so commonplace, no one would even notice me. Heck, I wish people didn't notice me coaching, because it takes the focus off the players who are putting their all on the line. I know, I know, I do stupid things on the sideline that naturally draw attention, but it's not to put the attention on me, it's to celebrate with my players; to show them that I'm with them.

Dichotomy? Dichotomy.

With this blog, I often run into the same thing I run into with nearly everything: I have a great idea, then I don't get to a place where I can write it in time. I'm not good enough with my phone to do it there and frankly I type fast enough that I really need to do it on a computer.

One of the things I tell people about me a lot is that two of my favorite things could not be more different: NASCAR Racing and musical theatre. I love them both, and it's entirely my parents' fault.

I could really talk about either of these first as my story for loving either is based on time spent with family, but the NASCAR side came up today in conversations with a co-worker, so let's start with that.

My recollection of racing fandom actually started with open wheel cars, specifically Indy Cars. I really think we watched that more than we watched NASCAR and other stock cars at first. Dad, Jay, and I went to the inaugural Denver Grand Prix run on the streets of Denver. Watching races at a street track is not real exciting.

However, that really wasn't the reason that NASCAR became our preferred form of motorsport spectation. It had more to do with the proximity to Colorado National Speedway (CNS), what is one of today's NASCAR HomeTracks.

We'd go watch the races on an occasional Saturday night and we started to watch what was then known as Winston Cup racing on TV once we got cable. Then, on a random off-weekend during the summer, a half-dozen or so Winston Cup drivers drove a short demo race at CNS and sign autographs. Now, among the drivers signing autographs but not driving was Richard Petty, the King. Ernie Irvan, Brett Bodine, and Michael Waltrip. They drove the short demo race in cars from the local drivers.

When NASCAR announced they'd finally be heading to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the Brickyard 400, Dad put in for tickets, figuring it was about a million to one chance. He's often said that one of his greatest Christmas presents was the letter he got saying he'd been one of the lottery ticket winners. We were going to the inaugural 400.

There really is nothing like going to a major NASCAR race. Camping in the on-site campgrounds, making friends over a "colbeer," as they're often called, and just the whole atmosphere in the campgrounds is crazy, fun, and boundlessly energetic. Talledega is legendary for its party scene, but Bristol's campground is all night. I lost a lot of sleep listening to the *thump, thump, thump* "WOO!" of cornhole into the wee hours.

My favorite camping in Phoenix. It's spread out more than any of the other campgrounds, in the middle of the desert and much more serene. I'm not much of a partier and that's the kind of scene I've always enjoyed when camping.

The last few years, my dad and I have gone to Kansas Speedway for the spring race every year. It's close to Lincoln and really a great place and track and general experience. It's also one of the few times I get to see one of my long-time snowmobiling, race, and golf buddies, Mike. It's really a great weekend.

I get that people DON'T get NASCAR. I do. I'm sitting here on a Thursday night watching the Duels, the qualifying races for the Daytona 500. Often, I'll turn a race on, watch the start, then take a nap, then watch the finish. I'll be real, I get why people think it's boring, but I still love it. Even on TV it's loud, it's powerful, and the skill is mind-blowing.

I am anxious to take Everett to his first NASCAR race. When he has a sibling or more, I'll take them as well. If they hate it, I won't make them watch it with me or go to a race again, but I'm hoping they'll at least give the race a shot live.

While it's maybe not explicit up there, the fact that I get to go to the race with my dad, and often with my brother, is a big part of why I love racing. The association with great time with my family is a huge part of why I love the sport. Nights with the family are a big part of the reason I love musical theatre as well.

Now, my mom is a retired music teacher. I've never really asked my parents how my dad became a fan of musicals himself, but by the time I have a solid recollection, my parents had season tickets to the Temple Buell Theater in Denver. If there was a show they thought Jay and I would like, they'd get us tickets. They were usually right. It was also a time to put on some fancy clothes and head to downtown Denver as have a fancy meal as well.

Musicals also served as dates for me when I was, well, dating. Sometimes I'd take her along when my family went, but more often I'd pick up tickets and the two of us would go, including to Wicked in Omaha and in Denver, in less than a year.

Wicked's my favorite musical, hands down. Though I will say that Once is close behind. I love the songs and I could sing them out loud at any opportunity. I know I am not a great singer. I'm not delusional. However, I love belting those songs out. I also love the story: the humanizing of the Wicked Witches of Oz.

Keya and I are fortunate here in Lincoln, the Lied Center gets great shows through. It's also part of the University of Nebraska, so we got discount tickets as Keya was going through her PhD program. We've continued to support the Lied through donations and buying season tickets.

As was mentioned at the beginning of this, musicals and NASCAR are two of my favorite things. I mentioned to a friend of mine that if I had any advice for my 18 year-old self it'd be to define yourself. Don't let anyone else define who you are.

One of the my most valuable learnings in college was that it's okay to like whatever the hell you like (within reason), so if others are going to tell you that you should or shouldn't like that, don't listen. I became a lot happier when I listened to whatever music I wanted to, wore what suited me, and generally comported myself in the way that felt most comfortable. As soon as I cared much less about what others thought, my self-worth improved.

Yeah, it's weird to have a NASCAR tee underneath my Wicked sweatshirt, but it's who I am. They're two things I enjoy, and embracing those two sides of myself has made me happy.

Fitness Bloggin'

One of the things I promised to talk about in this blog is my fitness... journey? Let's be real, I hate the language that the #fitspo people use on social media. In fact, I had fitness Instagram, but it became way too cumbersome to keep up. I hardly take care of my personal social media accounts. Right now, between Snapchat and and Instagram, that's where my fitness posts end up. I also re-post to Twitter from Instagram since it's super easy to do so.

So, back to the meet of this post, fittin' this blog in. Like so much social media, we tend to only post the good so it looks like things are rolling. Now, I don't intentionally do that, but if people are taking motivation from our fitness pages, of course we want to only show when we're rocking it. But there's a real-life side to it we try (or maybe it's unintentional) to hide.

I am confident in saying I'm in the best shape I've ever been in. I'm 38. It's been a conscious and sometimes very difficult choice. My cardiovascular health is not as good as it's been recently, but I hate treadmills and when the temperature is below freezing, I make the choice not to run. I secretly have come to really like running.

Right now, I have the chance to lift after school in Dorchester's weight room. It's awesome. I generally have it all to myself or only another teacher in there. It's kinda peaceful and it's definitely making a difference.

My Fitbit daily steps goal is 12,000. At this point I'm entirely unsure why I boosted it from the 10,000 that's preset, but I did, and it's something I try to hit daily. If I don't make it, I at least push to make sure that I average 12,000 per day. That's attainable.

A big part of fitness is diet. I know this. I basically haven't had soda in over a year. Do I still drink them from time-to-time? Yes. When I say I haven't had soda in over a year, what I mean is drink it once or twice a month, if that. It's not something I choose. I don't buy from the machine in the teacher's lounge. I don't keep it at home.

I'm not perfect when it comes to my diet. We still eat a lot of prepackaged stuff in our house, but we're getting better. The biggest change I've made is portion. I don't know where I got the notion that "men should eat big", but I'd always upsize my meal at fast food joints. I'd always get the biggest option at ice cream places. I've stopped doing that. I do much better with fruit or granola bars for snacks, things that fill me up, but have other nutrition in them (yes, I know it's not perfect either) so I stay full longer. I drink a LOT of water.

This is more background than I'd originally meant, but all of this is to say that fitness is not a straight line, at least not for me. I'm still a little fluffy in places, but I'm working on it. As I type this, I'm coming off one of the laziest, cheatiest days I've had in awhile. I was just over 4,000 steps. It won't throw me off of my trajectory. We had a "Cold Day" off of school as the temperature barely broke zero and the wind chill was between 15 and 20 below. Oh, and Everett had a double ear infection so the fever the day before dictated that he was home from daycare, so I got a full day of playing with a healthy kiddo (no fever yesterday).

One of the things that I feel like is lost in so many fitness discussions is grace and forgiveness. There will be days. My goodness will there be days. Days when you just don't feel like it. Days when life suddenly gets in the way. Days when you just. Can't. Work out. Holiday season days (ya know, when the calorie count for everything somehow suddenly doubles). You have to forgive those days, or they'll knock you completely off your path.

I've been there. I've been knocked off this path many times before. In fact, I've started this more times than I can count.

I'll always remember the day in December my second year teaching. I picked my kids up from PE and the PE teacher told me that I'd be doing the January healthy eating challenge with my kiddos. What came out of my mouth was, "Okay," but what was in my head was, "Why?". I then took another pull of my Cherry Coke and looked at my watch. It was 9:30 AM. The why was answered for me. I was 235 pounds that Christmas. By the BolderBoulder that May, I was down to 205. I'd done well.

That didn't really stick, though. I mean, I tried, but the walk to the fitness center in my community was, like, almost a full block, and mostly I had other things I wanted to do. Then I moved to Nebraska and the list of reasons grew. I mean, I sorta tried to. My weight never again broke 215, but I never got in to a real routine.

Then I met Keya. Keya makes fitness a priority. I realized if this woman was going to commit her life to me, that my committing mine to her meant more than saying I'd be faithful and all those other wedding vows. I had to commit to her lifestyle. To say that there have been speed bumps in that process is an understatement, but now we own three major pieces of fitness equipment. Neither of us ever lets two days pass without a workout, even if it's a small one. I hope that the example we set shows Everett and any future kids that fitness is fun and a priority.

When people ask me why I workout my answer's almost always the same, "To get less fat." They usually respond with, "You're not fat." That's not what I said. I know I'm not. 205 pounds spread out over a 6'7" frame isn't fat. Not even close. In fact, even in losing those 30 pounds, it was hard to tell because of my height. But there are places I'd like to clean up, and that means being less fat.

I suppose I've reached my goal of being less fat, but I'm not as less fat as I'd like to be. My lazy/cheat days tend to be fairly epic with me thinking eff it, I've already taken today off, let's really make it count, but I can refocus the next day and get back after it. I, gasp, LOOK FORWARD to working out. My story isn't anyone else's. You can't compare your fitness to another person's, that's a great way to get discouraged and knocked down.

However, I do hope that if you're taking time to read this and are some point on your, sigh, "fitness journey," that you can take some solace in knowing it's far from a straight line. Sometimes it looks more like a topo map of the Colorado mountains and there are precipitous drops. You can get there. I did.

Corporate Entities

I haven't forgotten. This blog wasn't a "Hey! Three weeks and then gone again!" No, actually this time, I've had too many ideas floating around in my head, and wasn't quite sure which one to give life to. I have a series of stories that will make their way into posts on this blog. I also figure I'll write about fitness, parenting, life, ya know, just whatever.

But I got to thinking, while I was in Minneapolis for the National Championship, about those companies that we just assume are national, but aren't, or companies whose reach is greater than we realized.

That thought got me thinking about random conversations I've had with friends through the years related to corporations. Blue Bell Ice Cream, for example, basically used the same jingle for 30+ years. I'm pretty sure the only reason that Discount Tire stopped using the commercial where the old woman throws a tire through the window is that TV technology got so good the commercial looked terrible. According to Youtube, the commercial was originally filmed in 1975. I know I saw it into the 21st Century.

So, I guess what it comes down to, is this is going to be somewhat rambling about the companies that are in our lives, and the effect that they have (mostly on mine, obviously).

As someone who grew up in Denver, if I simply type, "Now you have a friend in the diamond business..." anyone who grew up someplace where Shane Company has stores will have some version of the end of that commercial that tells you where there store was. In Denver for a long time it was ..."just off Arapahoe Road on Emporia Street, one-half mile of I-25. Open Monday through Friday till eight, Saturday and Sunday till five." Then adding a new store and the online options changed it all and when we were back in Colorado this last time, I couldn't even recognize it, but hearing Tom Shane's voice was still somewhat comforting.

Menard's is a company that comes to mind when I think about a company that feels ubiquitous in many places, but others may have never shopped at one. Menard's is even more common than Home Depot and Lowe's in many parts of the midwest, but there isn't one east of Ohio, south of Missouri, or west of Wyoming.

Grocery stores are another weird one. In Colorado it was Safeway and King Soopers (owned by Kroger). In many of the smaller towns you'll see the Kroger stores branded as City Market. Living there for 30 years, I'd come to rely on King Soopers for a lot of things. When I moved to Omaha, the Kroger brand was Baker's, but King Soopers it wasn't. Here, I've discovered the joy of Hy-Vee. It's actually the best. My buddy Jack got REALLY excited about Hy-Vee when we were hanging out one night.

The catalyst for this article was driving around Minneapolis and I saw a storefront for Paul Davis Restoration. That was a brand I'd seen in Lincoln and Omaha and assumed was local. It might be weirder to discover that a company you thought for sure was only in your part of the world exists other places.

I fully acknowledge that this is written with no input from others, and my perspective about brands who've crossed my path in my life. Maybe reading this made you think of something down these lines, or maybe you smiled and realized you weren't alone.

The last thing I'll mention on here is the Diamond Store. When I moved to Colorado Springs, I'd grown accustomed to large-market type commercials. The low quality of commercials in Colorado Springs blew my mind. I can't remember most of the ads, but the worst was the ninja ad. It's really difficult to describe, and a cursory glance through YouTube didn't show me any of their commercials, BUT it was bad. It's basically this rotund, middle-aged man with a beard who is fighting ninjas in the jewelry store (he was in all their ads, I assume to this day he owned the store) and it ends with the tagline, "Not even ninjas can keep you from the great deals" or something to that effect. It was terrible, but here we are, 15+ years on and I still remember it.

Thanks as always for reading!