Lost and Found

     Years ago, my brother and I left our home of Whidbey Island to pursue our dreams.  He moved to LA to pursue a career in the film industry.  I followed him south a year later, moving to San Diego, to pursue a career in cycling.  We didn't know what we were doing, but we pushed and struggled forward.  We learned as much as we could, at USC film school for him and for me on the roads testing myself against other racers.  Time passed.  We established ourselves as adults.  We had children.  We marked the passage of time with small achievements - a win in a local race here, a short film project in India there.  When we would get together we would encourage each other to keep pushing forward.  We often lamented our lack of progress, but I always told my brother that as long as he stayed with it, he would make his dreams come true.  It didn't matter if it happened next year or when he was sixty.  Just stay at it, I told him.  Keep pushing forward.  

My brother and I with our kids.

     My dream of racing in the Tour ended when a car smashed into me and broke my neck.  When I saw my brother again I told him he had to keep going.  There was nothing to stop him from pushing forward.  Not the relentless passage of time that eventually catches up with athletes or the dangers of the road.  The only thing that would stop him would be the overwhelming pressures of life - making enough money, being a good husband and father, and managing the ups and downs that come along.  He could settle down, or he could keep pushing forward.  
       For years my brother has pursued the dream of being a Film Director.  He has worked on lots of little projects, but his dream has always been to direct feature films. To that end, he has spent countless hours writing and polishing a script that he wrote.  He has relentlessly worked on finding funding for his project.  Looking everywhere he could - asking friends, starting a Kickstarter, pursuing investors.  For years he would tell me about promising leads and opportunities.  As each turned out to be nothing more than false hope, he became more realistic and pragmatic.  He still kept working away, but he stopped getting excited about opportunities.  

      Last year it finally seemed as if the dream was getting off the ground.  My brother had secured funding for a small budget and was ready to move forward.  For several months he began pre-production on Whidbey Island - scouting locations, working with local producers, and trying to get everything moving forward.  In the end though, it didn't come together.  And, as he said, "I was so heartbroken when it fell apart, that I sobbed and then jumped in Puget Sound.  It was cold." 
      Time passed. Life goes on, even when things seem lost.  I've kept moving forward since my accident.  Coaching cyclists at the elite level.  Writing two books.  My brother worked on other projects in music and production.  We kept pushing forward.  Continuing to hope and believe that anything is possible.  
       Just when it seemed like things would never come together, something happened.  My brother wrote this, "out of nowhere, an old friend from school happened to read the script and he had raised enough money to double our budget so that we could make the movie properly.  Suddenly, the film had wind in its sails - and it
wasn't just a breeze, it was a gail.  And, just like that, it all came together.  Jason Patric and Cary Elwes came on board to play the leads and we cast 3 of the most amazing young actors I've ever seen to play the 3 lead kids.  We shot the film over the past 4 weeks, in Northern Ontario.  It is more incredible than I ever hoped or dreamed it could be."  

My brother Joseph on location Directing Cary Elwes.  

      

Lost and Found Stills.

     The title of the film is "Lost and Found".  An appropriate analogy for a project that seemed like it might never happen.  But, through relentless determination my brother made it happen.  It took him ten years to turn it into a reality.  TEN YEARS!  Like I always told him though, it didn't matter when he finally got it done.  What mattered is that he stayed at it.  He is my inspiration to keep pushing forward.  Dreams can become reality if you stay at them.  Semper Porro.  

P.S.  This song makes me think of my brothers movie.  I think it would be amazing if they could use it as the title track for the movie.  Either way, it's just a really good song.  

      

10 Years

     What does ten years add up to?  I've been pondering that thought for several months now.  My Anniversary is coming up and it's amazing to think how much time has gone by.  It feels both as if I have been married forever and also as if the time has gone by as quick as the blink of an eye.  

Holy smokes we were young...

     I remember my wedding day clearly.  It was an outdoor wedding in Seattle.  It was raining when I woke up.   The morning was relaxed.  Kate and I had breakfast with our parents and then we took a trip to the Pike Place Market for flowers. By noon the sun began to shine. Everything was so simple.  Kate's dress was only a few hundred dollars.  There were no big arrangements to be made, only our close family was going to be there.  We wanted the keep things simple and small.  The way we saw it, a wedding is just one day.  We were more focused on everything that would came after.   When the time for the ceremony came there wasn't a cloud in sight and the sky was a brilliant blue.  Everyone forgot about what they thought about the whole thing - like how young we were, or how we had only been together for a few months.  Kate was the first girl I had ever dated, and my family all thought I was crazy.  And then we were married.  It was simple and sweet.  We had a bite of the cake, took a few photos, and then we were off into married life.  That night it rained.

            The next few years were a blur.  Kate got really sick - almost died.  When she got a little better we moved to San Diego.  Kate wanted sunshine and I wanted to race my bike.  We were young and stubborn and stupid.  We had no money and no idea what we were doing.  We lived in a tiny, crummy apartment for three years.  I worked at a job for $7.75 and raced my bike.  Kate found work as a server.  Time passed.  Kate got pregnant.  And then she wasn't.  Two years passed.  Our daughter Chloe was born.  That was crazy.  We were still dirt poor, and our apartment barely fit us, and now we were parents.  There was no room for Chloe.  So, we put her in the closet.  I kept racing my bike.  I didn't have the support I needed, and I had no idea how to prepare properly, but I kept at it.  From time to time our family would subtly encourage us to move back to Seattle (sometimes not so subtly).  But, we kept plugging along.

    We eventually moved.  It was only to one bedroom apartment, but coming from a tiny studio it felt enormous.  Chloe still had to sleep in the closet, but we had a proper bedroom at last.  We upgraded from a futon to a bed.  We couldn't afford a new mattress, so we bought one off Craigslist.  Time passed.  We had little money for anything.  But, after saving for years, we bought a piano.  For years I had taught piano but didn't have one of my own, which seemed the height of absurdity.  Chloe loved it and I would play with her in my lap.

     Kate and I kept working.  We were careful with our money and lived simply.  There were good times and bad.  We had some big fights and occasional stretches when things were really rocky.  But mostly we were good.  The funny thing is we weren't overly romantic.  Our marriage wasn't what you would call passionate or exciting.  It was just comfortable.  We were happy to be together.  We would hang out and stay up late talking about all the things we wanted in life.  We supported each other and were there for each other through good times and bad.  Living so far away from our family meant that we were all we had.      

      Time passed.  When we were able to afford season  passes to Disneyland it felt like we were living a fantasy.  I kept racing and teaching piano.  Kate kept working as a server.  We moved to a bigger apartment and a few days later our second daughter Te'a was born.  Things felt like they were coming together.  And then a car hit me while I was riding my bike.  I broke my neck and that was an end to my dream of racing professionally.  I spent the next year trying to get my life back together and figure out a new direction for myself.

     After my accident, life got busier.  I started writing and began coaching.  Kate became a manger at her restaurant.  It took a year of waiting in legal limbo, but things eventually wrapped up with my accident.  Soon after we bought a house.  Chloe started first grade and Te'a went from crawling to walking to talking.  It's crazy how time flies.

      When I look back on the last ten years, there are so many memories.  We went from having next to nothing and working at crummy jobs to owning a house and pursuing careers.  We have two healthy, happy girls.  Everything is good, everyone is happy.  Money still feels tight, but we don't have to scrape together change to fill up the gas tank.  Sometimes, I find it incredible how far we've come and how much we've been through together.  We still occasionally aggravate the hell out of each other, but I think Kate is amazing and beautiful and awesome and cool.  Every year with her seems better than the last.  As crazy and stupid as I was to get married so young, it was by far the best decision I ever made.

     Here's to the next ten years together.

Progress

     When you apply yourself to a goal and push forward, it can be hard to see the progress.  Because of that, I think it's good to step back occasionally and appreciate how far you've come.  I started teaching my daughter piano when she turned six (a year and a half ago).  This is what we've accomplished so far. 

     

 Here's a short video featuring one of the athletes I coach -
Erick Sobey.  He's the one at the front.  

Rock Store - California from Franco Bicycles on Vimeo.

Followed by a win at Dana Point.  

And here's a picture of the various drafts of my book.  

Every day, I focus on moving forward.  Teaching, coaching, writing.  This is what I do.  There may not be a lot of progress every day, but it adds up over time...

Heart Will Head

     I've been teaching my whole life.  It started when I was very young.  My mom owned a school when I was growing up and I was always a few years older than everyone there.  Naturally I fell into the older brother role - giving what advice I could, keeping people in line, nurturing them and pushing them.  I guess you could say I was born to teach.  Being a teacher affords a unique perspective when it comes to human behavior.  It has allowed me to observe people as they learn new things and find their way forward.  In the course of all these years of teaching, I have come to recognize and value certain characteristics.  

     Lately I have been thinking a lot about how I want to raise my daughters and the kind of people I want them surrounded themselves with.  Before long they are going to be thinking about dating and building relationships.  What they probably won't realize is the impact that relationships will have on their lives.  Because of that, I want to explain to them what qualities to look for in other people.  It's only natural to be distracted by superficial qualities like physical attractiveness and charisma.  But, I will tell them what matters is Heart, Will, Head.  

     Experience has taught me that what's in a persons heart matters more than anything else - every other quality comes second.  I have dealt with my share of selfish, oblivious, and unreliable people.  Because of that, I have come to value people who are compassionate.  Giving without asking anything in return and consideration for others speaks to a persons character and points to who they are and how they behave when things are difficult.  Having gone through circumstances that nearly crushed me, I know the value of people who are there when I need them.  Everyone else just sort of falls away.  

       An indomitable will is something that I really admire.  Probably because I've seen so many people give up in the course of pursuing things.  At times it seems as if most people are only capable of doing things if they are easy or fun.  The reality of life though is that difficulty is to be expected.  There will always be obstacles.  Some people rise to the occasion.  Others fall to the side.  Many people talk about the value of friendship and loyalty, but the truth of things is expressed in actions not words.  To my mind, the people who rise to whatever obstacle put before them are the people worth knowing. 

     In the course of watching people as they learn and grow, I have observed that what's in a person's head is reflected in how their life unfolds.  Having a plan and a purpose is important to be able to move forward decisively.  When it comes to intelligence, I have learned that there are many different kinds and it's important recognize and value all the different varieties.  To a certain degree I understand the desire to be surrounded by people who think the same way, but I think it's incredibly valuable to be exposed to different ideas and perspectives.  Ultimately, what I think is important is an active and inquisitive mind.  People who have that can usually find a way forward regardless of circumstance.

My daughter Chloe playing Bach Prelude.  

     What I teach is ultimately a reflection of my beliefs and who I am.  To my mind, compassion, loyalty, purposefulness, and intelligence are the qualities that truly matter in a person. They are characteristics I try to exhibit in myself.  I know that when it comes to my daughters it is my actions that will speak louder to them than my words.  Because of that, I want to be the best possible example I can be for them.  I want them to have high standards for themselves and others.  If I can do that, I will be satisfied as a parent.  

The Climb

     My friend Steven gave me a bike the other day.  The generosity of it completely overwhelmed me.  I haven't ridden in two years and to be honest, the idea of being on a bike again scared me a little.  I'll admit I still have some lingering emotional pain from the experience of having a car smash into my body and turn my life and my dreams upside down.  My injuries have long since healed.  But, there's always more than just the physical toll from traumatic experiences that you have to deal with.
      I can't believe it's been two years since I stopped riding.  Considering how much I lived and breathed cycling, going from that level of commitment to nothing was an abrupt and brutal change in direction.  What I've learned along the way is that everything in life is fleeting, you can wake up one day and without warning it's gone.  To be honest, my life has moved on since that fateful day.  I don't really have time to ride much now even if I wanted to.  I am busy with teaching, coaching, writing and raising my two girls.  On top of that, my wife works 60 hrs a week so there is little time for myself to go out and ride.   And so, for a week the bike just sat in my garage taunting me.
     When I finally had a small window of opportunity to ride - my wife had my youngest daughter and my eldest was off at school - I decided it was time to get back on the bike and take some time for myself.  I would go over to my old stomping grounds and ride up Double Peak in San Marcos.  I used to ride up it several times a week for training back in my racing days.  It would be different now though, I was on a mountain bike and I would be exploring the north side trails that wound their way up the mountain.
      I felt a little bit of a fool when I got out there.  Steven had given me an awesome full suspension Specialized mountain bike.  I hadn't had time to get any cycling gear though.  So I was dressed in a T-shirt, gym shorts and tennis shoes.  Deep down though, I guess I didn't care.  I was about to ride for the first time in forever.  What I was wearing seemed like an insignificant detail compared with being able to ride again.
      The first few pedal strokes felt electric.  That feeling of gliding along brought bike that familiar rush.  It's true what they say about riding a bike.  Despite the time away, it felt like I had never stopped.  As I began to climb, I felt my heart rate rise and my legs begin to burn.  I couldn't help smiling to myself though.  I had spent so many years training myself to embrace pain and to learn that suffering was good that feeling the sensation again made me feel alive.  I guess I hadn't realized how much I had been slowly dying all those long months when I was off the bike.  
      As I climbed I thought back to all that I had gone through.  I remembered the crushing pain and the bitter lows following my accident.  There was the financial difficulty and the feeling of uselessness when I couldn't work and I couldn't take care of my own infant daughter or drive myself anywhere.  Then I thought of someone I know who has spent their entire adult life in a wheelchair.  That was so close to being me.  Here I was back on a bike and powering my way steadily uphill.
     The truth of the matter is, life can crush you one moment and lift you up the next.  I can't tell you how often I have felt completely overwhelmed and wanted to just curl up into a ball on my bed and hide under the covers.  Those times when it feels like a hundred pounds just sitting in the pit of your stomach make it really difficult to function normally. When things are at their most difficult, I usually start talking to myself.  I tell myself, take a deep breath and ignore what you are feeling.  Keep going, keep pushing.  This moment will pass.  When you look back years from now, you will hardly remember what you were feeling right now, but the progress you made along the way will mean something to you.   
       As I drew closer to the top, the trail steepened and I had to dig deep with everything I had.  The work was familiar, but my body lacked the fitness it once had.  I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as my heart struggled to keep up with the demand from my legs.  My breath was heavy in my chest as I drew in deep focused breaths.  With each pedal stroke I rose ever skyward, carried by the breath in my lungs and the power in my legs.  I felt alive again - like I had rediscovered a part of me that had been missing.  Maybe the truth is that difficulty isn't just something to overcome, it's what defines us and makes us feel alive.   

This is a poster of one of the athletes that I coach - Bryan Larsen.  Words to live by indeed.  

Resolutions

    It's January again - a time to reflect on the year that's past and to consider what we want for the year ahead.  When I look back, all the days seem to blur together.  They were each filled with similar details.  Go to work.  Run errands.  Eat. Go to sleep.  There were good moments and bad ones.  So, when I look forward, I wonder how this year might be different.  How to live more in the moment?  How is it possible to pursue the things you want and also get the most out of life?  Is this an impossible balance?  Who knows.  I like a good challenge though.
     A lot has changed in my life since I first sat down and started writing.  My neck has healed.  I started coaching.  I bought a house.  I made new friends.  At the moment I find myself sitting here listening to music, drinking Bourbon and writing.  It's 3 in the morning and I'm feeling slightly buzzed and high on music (Avicii - Levels).  There also an odd twinge of wistfulness mixed in - probably due to the fact that I am sitting here by myself - which I suppose appeals to my melancholy nature.  I got a lot of work done in the past several hours.  I worked on my book (so many pages of writing!), I did work on some of the training schedules for my athletes, replied to emails.  All in all I am feeling quite good at the moment.  I suppose this is my way of living in the moment - drinking and writing and listening to music.  

     Years from now perhaps I'll look back and read this and think about what I was feeling.  This is a night similar to the first time I sat down and started writing nearly two years ago.  Things were a lot different then.  I had a broken neck and I had no idea of what direction to go in or what to do with my life.  In a late night moment of clarity, I decided that I had to do something, anything, and start moving forward - even if I had no idea what I was doing.  I suppose I've always had an idea of the value of forward progress.  But, that was when it crystalized into a philosophy of always moving forward.  Of course, the blog title Alwaysforward was already taken.  Oh well.  It sounds better in Latin anyway.  Semper Porro.
     I don't really subscribe to the notion of having New Years resolutions.  Probably because every day I am resolved to make the day better than the day before.  Push forward.  Take each moment as it comes.  Enjoy it.   Sometimes I suppose the days blur together.  But, it's a good blur.  All in all it's a philosophy that has served me well.  These past two years since I started writing this blog have been very full.  If I had to go back and do it again I wouldn't change a thing.  I guess if anything my resolution for this new year is to keep living life the same way I have been.  Who knows what 2014 will bring.  But, I've got a good feeling about it.

Challenges

Before you go any further, go down to the bottom of this post and play the music video while you are reading this. Skip ahead to 4:30.  

     Not too long ago, I got an email from one of my piano students telling me they were stopping lessons.  It caught me by surprise and left me feeling a bit deflated.  Whenever I start with a new student, I always have the hope that they will stick with it long enough to really learn it - rather than just playing for a few years and then quitting. I suppose there is some value in being exposed to piano, but to me quitting after a few years feels like leaving things unfinished.  And what is the point of filling time with unfinished experiences?  Years from now, what will a few years of karate or music lessons or surf camp be worth?  Nothing but cheap memories that have faded into the distant past. Don't people realize that things that are unused are basically worthless?  I had such great hope for this student too.  He was young, smart, and (I thought) dedicated.  In other words, all the qualities you would hope for in a student.  
      The reality of teaching piano is that almost everyone quits after two or three years.  There's a mental wall at that point where things get really difficult.  Progress seems almost non-existent and learning doesn't have that same fun "newness" to it.  When confronted with the reality that it takes a lot of work and discipline to keep moving forward, most people quit.  They don't want to do something that isn't fun and they can't see the value in it long term.  I get so frustrated when I see people give up once things become difficult.  To me, I believe that you are what you do.  And, ultimately if you quit when things are difficult, that becomes who you are.  Over time you become a person whose life is filled with unrequited hopes and dreams.
     I suppose the reason following through is so important to me has to do with the fact that I hated the piano when I started.  My mom forced me to take lessons for most of my childhood.  After eight years when she finally said I could quit, I realized I had come to love it.  When I look back, I think about what I would have missed if my mom had not forced me to keep going for all those years.  As I've gotten older, I find myself applying the same lesson I learned in piano to other aspects of my life.  That means being being steady in my marriage through the ups and downs.  It also means being steadfast in my pursuit of cycling - it's been fifteen years now of dedication to the sport.  As a parent and as a coach it means staying true to my beliefs and holding myself and those in my tutelage to the highest standards.  All of those things are meaningful and important parts of my life.  The more I continue to follow through on them, the more they mean to me.  
     As I reflect back on the many students I've taught over the years, the one who stands out is a soft spoken boy who I started working with years ago.  When we first started, there was nothing particularly special about him.  In fact, he was a fairly mediocre student.  He barely practiced and he was undisciplined and unmotivated.  But, month after month he stayed at it.  As the years went by he continued advancing and steadily began surpassing many of the more "talented" students who gave up when things became difficult.  He worked harder and harder as he kept moving forward and his focus improved.  Most importantly, he didn't quit.  Whenever I hear him play now, I think about how far he has come and what he might have missed had he quit when things became challenging.  And, in turn, he has become my inspiration and my reminder of what can be accomplished when you push through the challenges, follow through, and always keep moving forward.

Here's a performance of my student at his school.  I am always surprised by how good this is when I hear it.  What is particularly impressive is he transcribed most of the music by ear from various soundtracks and played it all from memory.  Can you tell how proud I am?  :)