Of course I coulda/shoulda titled this “Dear Europe” or “Dear World”, but it’s you I’m thinking about most today.
I’m sorry. If it’s any comfort, many of us are counting down to January, 2028. Of course that is no consolation for you right now. If the (dis)United States wins, there will always be an asterisk attached. If you win, I will celebrate your overcoming the double whammy of FIFA and DJT corruption.
And if it’s any consolation, I will be in Belgium with my bike and several friends in September. At which time I can apologize in person on behalf of many, many of my fellow citizens.
“She (Harp) often accompanied Trump when he played golf, bringing a printer and a laptop to show him articles; Harp’s use of a printer, which began from Trump’s preference for paper news, led to her being given the nickname of the ‘human printer’.”
What this excerpt doesn’t explain is that Harp only feeds Trump a steady diet of the best news coverage available at the time.
Yeah, I want someone just like Harp who would follow me around everywhere and provide a constant flow of unrelenting praise. Offloading self-compassion if you will. How great would that be?! Truly, this is an idea that only a stable genius could come up with.
Ironically, I played nine holes of golf for the first time in forever the other night. I somehow started out on fire but missed a short one for par on the par-5 fifth hole. How great would it be for my Natalie Harp to be sitting in a cart greenside at the ready to lift my spirits after a boneheaded bogey. Maybe handing me a printout that documents just how great my drive and five-wood were before the weak sand wedge and failed up and down that would soon be forgotten in all the praise for my amazing long game. And then, on the way to the next tee, she would whisper, “Many people are saying Ron, that was the best drive/five-wood combo this hole has ever seen. I know you’re going to make birdie on the next hole, so I’m just writing it in now.”
Yesterday, after an excellent group ride, I was day dreaming about my own Natalie Harp when I had an epiphany. I already have one in the form of my Strava AI assistant! Strava is a personal fitness app where people upload their workouts and applaud one another’s efforts. Think of it as a pseudo, cloud-sourced executive assistant/cheerleader of sorts.
But with an AI overlay, distinguished by its toxic positivity, it’s even more. Dig this recap of my ride.
“Crushed it.” “You’re clearly dialed in.” “What’s really impressive. . . ” I’m blushing. Never mind that it’s only the fifth day of the month.
Now, if we press pause for just a little bit and reflect on a very real possible downside to continuous over the top praise, there’s ample evidence that one could become a narcissistic sociopath.
“But the truth is, everybody lies. We all do it, in ways large and small, more often than we might care to admit. Scholars known as “deception scientists” have studied the psychology of lying and concluded that as a human behavior, it is incredibly common. Most studies on the subject have found that the average person lies at least once or twice a day. But this may be an underestimate, because the methodology of these studies usually depends on self-reporting by subjects, and when people answer questions about how often they lie, they might very well be lying.”
Since you are likely average, what have you fibbed about today? I have not stretched the truth at all today. Yowza, upon further review, there’s my first one. Or is it the second? Third?
Inertia is a bitch. After six months, I’ve finally started culling Lynn’s files. Yesterday, the first file I mindlessly grabbed was her “adoption” file. Which details her search for her birth mother, a couple of phone calls with her, and lots and lots of journaling about her feelings about her birth mom’s inability to embrace her. Most of the journaling was from Lynn’s 30s and 40s, her beautiful penmanship a reminder of her healthy pre-MSA self.
Despite the beautiful penmanship, the writing was sometimes blurry, since I was reading it through tears.
File two was a much needed relief. Labeled, “Swimming records”, I thought to myself, what the hell? I did not know my wife of 38 years kept a detailed list of all her personal records, some set alone “off the wall” while lap swimming at the Briggs Y and some in events Mel Smith organized at the Briggs Y, and some in a sprint triathlon or two she entered. She even had researched sprint tris in the area and notated them with things like “hilly run”. Mind blown.
My athletic experience with her was dusting her when we worked out together at the Y. Because, of course, I had to let her know who was the bossman. But in fairness, she did beat me in HORSE once and she routinely beat me when we wrestled. She’d brag about how strong her legs were and make such a serious funny face that I would laugh so hard that she would easily get me in a leg wrap and pin me.
Dig this artifact from the “Swimming records” archive. And remember what “they” say. No one remembers who came in second.
Yesterday a large contingent of elite endurance athletes competed in the Western States 100 in Northern California’s mountains, the most prestigious ultra running event in the (dis)United States.
If the 101 miles seems doable, don’t forget to save something for the 17,000′ of elevation. Those numbers would make for a very, very difficult day on a road bike.
This snippet, about the runner up female, is bonkers.
“Third time’s a charm for American Riley Brady with a second-place finish. After a 14th-place finish in 2023 and a DNF last year, Brady stormed back to run at the front back and forth all day, battling through losing vision in one eye for a large chunk of the race due to a lack of salt and projectile vomiting in the final third of the race.”
Prior to 1984, the International Olympic Committee and medical establishments argued that the marathon distance was too physically demanding for women.
I’m here for badass women saying to “the establishment”, here, hold my beer, while I run four consecutive marathons up and down mountains. LOL.
Footnote: The women’s winner, Jenn Lichter, is from Missoula, Montana by way of Colombia.
Unexpectedly found this bitchin’ crystal gift inside a carefully wrapped package on the porch this morning.
As I explain here, I very quietly exited the Pacific Lutheran University stage. Largely because of baggage. In my head.
This was a classy gesture from an institution I’m indebted to.
It doesn’t compensate for the loss of knowing students and being known by them, but it’s a very nice affirmation of my efforts over a quarter of a century.
“Rates of ‘gray divorce’ — splits among those 50 and older — have risen sharply in the United States, doubling between 1990 and 2010. Though those rates have stabilized since the pandemic, nearly 40 percent of divorces today occur between people 50 and older.”
Key definition.
“‘Empty-shell marriages’ are ones in which there is no real connection or vitality, where one or both partners are not happy. . .”
The key reasons according to Justin Garcia, the executive director of the Kinsey Institute in Bloomington, Ind., and the author of The Intimate Animal: The Science of Sex, Fidelity, and Why We Live and Die for Love.
“’We as a species are in longer relationships than our ancestors ever were,’ he said. ‘Lifelong monogamy maybe meant a few decades.’ Now, though, there are couples who have been together for 50, 60 or even 70-plus years.
‘That is evolutionarily unprecedented for our species,’ Dr. Garcia said.
At the same time, societal expectations for what marriage can or should be have changed. Baby boomers who got married relatively young — in part because that was simply the norm — are now living through a time when marriage is seen as a vehicle for love and self-actualization, said Claire Kamp Dush, a professor of sociology at the University of Minnesota.
‘We’re not just partnering based on this idea that someone’s going to be the breadwinner and someone’s going to be the homemaker,’ she said. It is possible, she added, that our collective tolerance for staying in just a so-so relationship ‘is going down.'”
RX from the Bay Area, commented, “. . . it’s mostly because women are over it.”
Three other top commenters point to an uneven and unfair division of labor as a key catalyst for calling it quits after decades of being together.
Because the author of the piece only used heterosexual examples, and the author and top commenters focused almost exclusively on unfair workloads, we end up with what feels like a relatively simplistic understanding of “gray divorce”.
For example, the author of the piece references, and the top commenters repeatedly emphasize, that women want to finally be free of caring for their male partners while men who divorce tend to remarry, often quite quickly, because “men need to be taken care of”.
Classic painting with a broad brush. “Some” men, even “many men” would be a much better way to word that.
Let’s consider a counter example. Your fave blogger. At first glance, your fave blogger’s decision to begin dating someone three months after his beloved wife died, after 38 years together, might be further proof of men being woefully dependent upon someone to cook and clean for them. Because, as the female author and top commenters seem to think, men can’t cook and clean for themselves.
Sigh. I don’t know how much depth to go into here, with respect to sharing with you dear reader my rationale for deciding to date before learning it was way, way before my daughters were ready for it. But suffice to say, my rationale had nothing to do with being taken care of. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Not to brag, but I can hold my own in the kitchen and I will out clean you. Just sayin’.
How ’bout a four-word summary of what could be a four thousand word explanation. I began dating because I sought emotional connection. Which is one word more than it takes to say I was lonely. Weirdly, the concept of emotional intimacy is completely skirted around in the article and top comments.
A friend and I have been sparing a bit on the topic of the patriarchy. Often while hiking. This will surprise no one. I’m losing. She runs circles around me on the topic because she thoughtfully articulates the negative consequences of the patriarchy on men. A key point that too many feminists gloss over. In particular, she correctly points out that entrenched patriarchal norms make it very difficult for men to develop much, if any, emotional intelligence. Without which, emotional intimacy is a non-starter.
Despite some countervailing evidence, most men can learn to vacuum and load and unload dishwashers. And pick up their underwear. Much, much more easily than they can learn to communicate about their inner lives. And much, much more easily than they can learn to tap into their partner’s innermost thoughts and feelings.
I am not an expert and any reader of the female persuasion correct me if I’m wrong about what follows.
I have a strong hunch that many women would like to have their partners do a load or ten of laundry and make them dinner and clean up afterwards, but what every woman would love, especially in empty-shell marriages, is the opportunity to talk about each other’s inner lives in as vulnerable and patient and regulated a manner as possible. So as to feel safe, to feel seen, to feel loved unconditionally. And then to reciprocate. Over and over. For however many years are left.
Pressing Pause 