Of friends and friendships

After my last blog, I realized that I never really set big things for myself. Indeed, I never challenged myself worthy to be an example.

So the other day saw me finish my first 100 kilometers on my trusty mountain bike. It was total struggle. In fact, two days after the ride and it was still difficult having to sit. Everything was sore as sore can be.

But rise to the challenge I did.Yes there were moments of tremendous pain, of nearly giving up. But I pedaled and pedaled with all that I got.

It was also the first time I was out wearing cleats. I was clipped-in for most of the 100 kilometer trek. There was always the chance of falling over because I am, literally, attached to the bike. But fall I did not. That monkey is now off my back.

Looking back, I realized the one thing that shadowed all these: true friendship.

I was able to go clipless because a good friend gave me his pedal.

I made it clipped because another mate gave me a brand new pair of cleats to use with my new clipless pedal.

I never had problems with sweat running down my eyes because a buddy gave me a head gear that helps absorb sweat.

I was not the strongest and so I was constantly at the end. But everybody stopped to wait to check if I was alright.

I now know what else I am capable of accomplishing and will enjoy mountain biking even more because of friends who made sure I will make the most of this ride.

Finally, I made it through my first 100 because I have friends who rode with me to the finish.

And surely, I will achieve bigger things this year, both in and out of my chosen sport, because I am in the company of those who think I mattered.

Resolutions

Maybe because I heard it often enough that New Year has subconsciously etched the word “resolution” in my mind. I wouldn't be surprised if soon a thesaurus search on the noun “resolution” will yield “New Year” as a result. It may have unknowingly turned into a tradition much like the New Year itself.

Perhaps it is because of this, or the thought that 2010 is synonymous to me turning 52, that I suddenly found myself aware of flaws once accepted as a normal part of my unique personality. Flaw they maybe but they are what makes Roy this Roy. Cecille even thought they were cute. Once upon at time, that is.

It was while watching Carmella bike around the neighborhood recently that I caught myself yelling directions: stop there, watch the gutter, don't turn that way, you are going too fast, avoid the dog, etc.... But Carmella continued on, oblivious of this screaming father.

Since when did I turn into a Marine Drill Sergeant? Was I like this all along? Is this why Carmella has become more and more argumentative with me? Have I become a difficult person to deal with?

I am afraid asking Cecille because I already know what she will say: yes, you have become the stiff one and you are no fun.

I love hugging my daughter and I love it much when she would hug be back. But as she is growing up, I should expect that there will be less and less of the hugging back.

So I believe it is time I should try to work on being the gentle one, to drop all those Drill Sergeant paraphernalia from the year before and work on being the coolest Dad ever and to be hugged even more.

It is time to train my eyes to see all that is good, to choose seeing the battles we have won, the blessings, the healing and the friendships that came our way, over the anxiety brought by illness in the family.

It is time to appreciate the collective strength of this family and to always celebrate togetherness.

It is time to be grateful for each day that we have each other.

So, am I making a resolution here?

A goal for sure.


Photo credit: Chica and Jo@ Flickr

Have we forgotten how to have fun?

Yesterday I re-tweeted, emailed, posted in a local mountain bike forum and shared on Facebook a YouTube link about a mountain biker who thinks he has captured something eerie while riding at the Backbone Trail in Malibu, California.

An artist friend from New York and a fellow biker together with his office staff were spooked by the video. Some of my biking buddies who've seen it thinks that their nightly bike commute will now be more exciting.

But there are also friends and relations who believe the video is all fraud. Admirably, a couple of them even went deeply technical to explain their point. Which led me to ask: when did we become too serious?

Has the rush of CGI technology in movies made us overly suspicious of what is real and what is computer generated that we are now so determined than ever to answer all the “WHY's” in the world?

In his book Attitudes That Attract Success, Wayne Cordeiro mentioned that when we try to figure out everything, when we become so caught up in the details of life, before we know it, it is over and we missed the whole ride.

Maybe it's a fraud but do we have to do an autopsy on every event that passes our way? Do we have to have an explanation every time? Must I know why my daughter laughs the way she does?

Why do we insist on exhausting ourselves answering the “Why?” when a “Wow!” is all that is needed? Why can't we just enjoy the ride?

Or have we totally forgotten how to have fun?


Photo credit: Sismoon@flickr

Do I Want To Be Rich?

So many times I have been asked what is my goal or what do I want money to do for me. I must have answered in many different ways that I am already confused on what it is that I am really aiming for.

Lately a friend was explaining the value of financial intelligence and the popular view that through thorough understanding its concept can one truly achieve financial wealth. Names of John Maxwell and Robert Kiyosaki would occasionally pop up during our conversation. John Maxwell is someone I have grown to admire while Robert Kiyosaki is someone I am currently trying to know. But both, in my opinion, had already seen the "light".

It was a good talk in that it brought a lot of introspection. I went home and then to bed with the nagging question “How financially rich do I really want to be?” Which led to a night of severe tossing and turning.

Perhaps I would have slept better if from the start I was asking the question “Why do I want to be rich?” 

Is it to leave an enduring legacy that will continue on even when I am already gone and back to my Lord and Creator, a legacy akin to the Taipan's and the Mestizo's in our society?

Or is it so I can fulfill a purpose?

Rick Warren in an interview said that the very first thing he did after his success was to return all the salary he has received since he started as a preacher. He felt so liberated for having preached for free.

While it may be true that I long for a more comfortable life, one that will allow my family to lessen our dependence on public transport that insists on sitting ten people when it will only allow for 8, I will aim for nothing more than what will basically fill the need of this family. For basic means less and less means having more left to give.

Dave Navarro in his ebook 7 Steps To Playing A Much Bigger Game has defined value as being about what we can do for people who need what we can do.

If I can help a friend focus on things that he believes are good rather on things that disappoints and if it will help him move on full of hope, then I have provided value, I have fulfilled my purpose.

If I can ease a mother's aching heart towards a daughter so sick, then I have provided value, I have fulfilled my purpose.

And if being rich will help me achieve these and more, then I have answered my question.

Photo Credit: AMagill @ Flickr

Gratitude

I have been mountain biking for quite a time now. And to quote a good friend and biking mentor:“Biking for me is a way of life and has shown me life's different faces. It brings me anywhere I want. It has given me the opportunity to meet all types of people. It has showed me what is beautiful and what is worse. All my adventures are with my bike. Next to my wife is my trusty old mountain bike.” - Syano09

True, it was on my mountain bike that I had seen much of life up close through the stories of strangers I met on the trail.

Where we ride is Malipay, an area where one can find a people remotely isolated. Most have no running water nor electricity. Some would hike a couple of kilometers to fetch their drinking water. And when the river that runs across their village rises, they are completely cut off they have to gather rain water for their needs.

But they, in spite of their want, would cheerfully and without fail yell out “Good Morning!” when we pass them by. They have, in fact, become my second wind. Their smile and their greetings brighten further the landscape God has so generously blessed us to enjoy on our bikes.

I would love to listen to their stories. I would love sitting with them over a cup of even the cheapest 3-in-1coffee mix after a hard ride. For there is something behind their cheerful demeanor that reveals the secret to true joy. A joy which we try to vainly seek through the incessant upgrade we do on our steeds only to be left still feeling empty and even wanting more.

I would like to treat that man a bottle of soda for eagerly pointing to us the way out including all the expected obstacles. His direction is the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel” for this wandering biker.

I would love reaching out to those little children who find it great fun doing a high-five to a passing biker. I would always oblige for it is a way I can thank them, at that moment, for allowing me to run through their space.

I would like to return the kindness these simple folks have unknowingly blessed me by their presence. I would like to be more than that nameless face rushing by on his bike. I want to make a difference, bereft of any funfair, through a simple and quiet giving of self.

Mountain biking has blessed me much. It is time to give something back.

The Missing Christmas Box

I think that as one grows older, the boxes intended for us under the tree either gets smaller or is all together missing.

Unlike those days when we measure Christmas joy through the quantity of boxes intended for us under the tree, as one mellows with age, Christmas joy is now seen through how much we have been hugged on Boxing Day.

Honestly, I was actually hoping for some biking related gifts last Christmas. Everyone in this family knows that would truly cheer me up.

But except for a soccer shirt that can double-up as a biking jersey, I got no biking related stuff. No cash either to purchase biking related stuff.

Instead I got something truly more meaningful: I got hugged. A lot.

Hugs can not be boxed. They are much too big for any box to hold.

Hugs can not be wrapped. No wrapping paper can truly be colorful enough.

Hugs can not be bought. It is simply too precious to be limited by price and to be carried by most high-end stores.

And it needs no instruction on use, has no expiry date, no sizes, no color. All it comes with is a virtual warranty card that assures the recipient of the love that endures.

This Christmas I got more than a box or a wish can hold: the love of my family through a hug.


Photo credit: syd delicious@flickr

11 Years

Yesterday Cecille and I celebrated the 11 years of our married life.

How does one describe this milestone? 

Well, we have our moments. At this age, a person seems to be sensitive to almost anything. While Cecille thinks I should now  be acting my age, I believe she should know better. So there, our life story of the last 11 years.

Seriously though, an overlooked but deeply significant part of our journey together has revealed itself to me only recently.

The other week, Carmella asked her mom to write our names on a piece of writing pad. She then taped it on our wedding picture hanging in our bedroom.

Looking closely, one name in particular says so much about how one-sided this relationship has been: Cecille Jaleco.

Yes, she has taken up my name. All things about her now is about being a Jaleco. Her signature will now include Jaleco, she will vote as a Jaleco, will be addressed as one and her children will carry my forefather's name.

But she has also given up much of who she was, her dreams with all the joys of being single and free, and happily embraced her new identity. She decided to fall in love and to endure the pain of childbirth. 

She learned to love what I love, value what I value and share my joys with me. She loves me and continues to love me no matter my misgivings.

Indeed, this relationship has been one-sided but sadly, always in my favor.

And it is a regret that I have not promptly responded to the selflessness that was apparently there from the start. 

It is a time of giving back and to be in love like the first time.

It is a time to be grateful for the good 11 years.