April 28, 2017
Can a 30 Year Marriage Survive a Twelve Day Bike Tour?
Heads Up dear readers: As you will surely deduce on your own, this journal was written five years ago on "the other" cycling journal site. After a very busy many months here in real time, I'm finally getting around to logging it here on Cycle Blaze. I'll make all the preamble pages visible right away and dole out the actual riding journal pages one or so at a time. Hope you enjoy it!
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I met an amazing young woman almost 33 years ago, and was instantly smitten. Flat out head over heels jaw droppingly smitten. Recognizing this, I overcame my native introversion, and launched a charm offensive that hoodwinked her into marrying me, before she could conduct some due diligence of the "goods" on offer. That young woman was/is Margaret (Cordell) Jamison, we've been married nearly 31 years, and I still can't can't get over how lucky I am to be her husband. Marg agrees (that I'm lucky, that is), and points out the good fortune that we met after allergy season was over, so my serial sneezing during the hay fever bloom didn't send her running for the door on our first date. And, as I have pointed out several times over the years, I was also lucky to have turned into an actual adult and gotten my social/emotional/professional sh*t together no more than six days before I met her. Talk about "just-in-time" delivery. A helpful mutual friend wanting to play matchmaker had given each of us scouting reports about the other, but we didn't actually meet face-to-face until I refereed a soccer game between two local adult women's teams, upon one of which Margaret played. Before the game started we were somehow introduced and I remember thinking, "That's Margaret Cordell? Man, I should have listened more closely to what Jeff was saying about her." I managed to make a big impression on Marg right away, because I blew an out-of-bounds call she was involved in. After I whistled the ball in possession of the other team her head snapped around, shot me a "look," and helpfully informed me that the ball had caromed off the opposing player's leg, not hers. My recollection is that it went something like, "OH! Ref!! Bad call!!!" But maybe that's me still being thin-skinned. As per usual, her team crushed the opposition, as they were quite the feared juggernaut in the women's league. Being the last game of the season, both teams and their friends and families went out for pizza and beer afterward. The clever machinations of some common friends made sure Marg and I were seated together. Our conversation at the table pretty much sealed the deal for me. OMG, this woman was creative, calm, bright, athletic and could passionately and humorously engage in a 15 minute conversation about the obvious need of a closet full of sport specific footwear: Soccer cleats, running shoes, biking shoes, hiking boots ... she also again expressed her amazement, with a smile on her face, that I'd so clearly blown such an obvious call on the out-of-bounds ball. Like I said, I was smitten.
We are now 33 years down the road from that night, and this summer Marg and I will be taking our first long self-supported bike tour together. Over the years we have backpacked a lot, cross country skied everywhere, and ridden big fully supported tours together but for some reason we've never gotten out on the roads and toured on our own. We are both psyched about this trip, but there is one niggling little thing that might need some conscious intervention, in that we are both genetically predisposed loners and control freaks who NEED OUR SPACE and NEED TO BE IN CHARGE.
An illustration: About 2 1/2 years ago I retired from work. I was an elementary school principal and devoted a LOT of time to that job, so was gone from home quite a bit, including many evenings. Margaret was accustomed to running the show at home without me being around. One day, about three months into my retirement, I was wallowing in my new routine ... which primarily consisted of constantly (and happily!) hanging around the house doing whatever the Hell I felt like, when Margaret came home from some errand. I forget exactly what precipitated it (probably the fact that I was so obviously at home ALL the time and Marg wanted nothing more than to have the house to herself for a few hours), but at some point in our conversation Margaret, with a hint of exasperation in her voice said, "I mean, you're just always .... HERE!" That was true, and given we both have a requisite amount of alone-time that we need to recharge our batteries (a family trait shared by our kids too) we have both wondered out loud what effect being together ALL. THE. TIME. on a 12 day bike tour might have on our peaceful and happy marriage. That notion is what the title of the journal refers to: Can this marriage handle 24/7 togetherness for 12 days straight?
My opinion? Honestly? Ah, it'll be good. No doubt, I can be an exasperating twit, but am able to joke my way out of tight corners 98% of the time, and although Margaret can be intense she is also infinitely interesting and I have never been bored around her a day in my life, so we're a pretty good match. There will be a couple concessions made because of the way we are both "built" but I think this tour will be a gas.
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