Wins & Losses

This past weekend marked the last race in the Oregon Enduro Series. In a way, it also marked the end of summer. Although I got 3rd in my actual race, I placed 1st overall for the series- partly due to my consistanly decent races, parly due to the fact that I am the only cat 2 girl who showed up to each race. I know that I may not have placed 1st if certian competetors had showed up to every race; but I prefer to think of it like: consistancy pays off.

 

And pay off it did. I won a Fox fork (worth some decent dough!), a go pro camera, two tires, two pairs of socks, a tshirt, a beanie, a messenger bag completely full of Clif Bar product, and some carbon bike cleaner.

 

A lot of things went through my mind this bike season, ranging from feeling like I may be crazy, to knowing I was crazy... I had three pretty good crashes during stage 1 of this last race, which happened to basically be in a large sandbox. I slid, flipped, and tumbled. I rode down a waterfall of rocky fireroad with my handlebars on crooked. But I really feel the most triumphant, and actually a little proud, about the whole series because I did it.

 

I did it.

 

Unfortunately, while I was winning on the bike front, I (finally) received news on the New Zealand front. I didn't get the job in Wellington. Although they were "impressed" by my interview, they decided to hire a candidate who could start sooner. They encouraged me to apply again.

 

And the 4 jobs I applied for in Nelson? Three of them decided not to interview me. I am waiting to hear back from the 4th. In the meantime I found 4 more jobs to apply for, 2 in Christchurch posted last week, and 2 more in Nelson posted today. As always, fingers crossed.

 

Most encompassing in my life is actually neither a win nor a loss. I'm not even sure what the etiquette is related to writing about delicate family issues on one's blog, but then again I figure that this is my outlet, and I will do with it what I see fit. That being said, I must disclaim: I am looking for neither sympathy nor pity. But if you see me over the next few days or weeks and I look like a zombie, there is no other reason.

 

My fantastic 98-year-old grandfather is in the final chapter of his life. Over the last year he's had a lot of ups and downs (wins and losses, if you will) related to the many, many medical conditions one collects after a century of life. As a result, the last few months have left him exhuasted and quite ill, and although he has expressed his willingness to pass on, his body will not allow it. And although I feel like Im being dramatic when I say that, my heart hurts for him when I see how tired he is and when I realize what a huge front he puts up for us. Over the last year he has been a model patient, lovely to be around, witty and wise. But yesterday, after learning about a whole a new slough of diagnoses, he said "Its just time to give up".

 

I agree whole-heartedly with him, and I know his life has been full, his heart has been full, and that he leaves us, and this world, on the best of terms. He left his family home as a young teenager. He rode on boxcars, was a hobo, stood in soup lines, stowed away on a ship to Alaska, got work, made money, served in WWII, became a train conductor, a husband, a father, and a grandfather. He traveled, frequently alone. Russia. China. Panama. He made a healthy living and smart investments with an 8th grade education. He is a survivor. He has inspired many family members, and he has inspired me throughout my whole life. It is his spirit in me that tells me to explore the world, and of course New Zealand. (He is quite possibly the strongest advocate of this plan.) He's not gone from us yet, but I would be kidding myself to think there is much time left, and no matter how much I try, he's pretty much all I think about. The wins and losses of the last few weeks, although great and unfortunate each their own right, just pale in comparison to my grandfather, his journeys, and this place we are now. In the scores of this life, he absolutely came out a winner... to the world, his absence will be such a loss.