He was riding in the Alps, I was working at an ad agency.  Needless to say, it didn’t work out.  But we tried.  We gave it everything we had.

He was in yellow and it blinded me because I wore black and had platinum hair.  But he climbed!  The little Frenchman climbed and won my heart.  He took the jersey and held it.  Like many, it gave him special powers and he suffered at its hands, even as it made him fly.

He went into the mountains and the sun beat down.  His body pumped so much oxygen it seemed incredible.  He unzipped the jersey and put his little French hands on the tops and climbed with urgency, as if I were standing at the top, waiting for him.

I wasn’t.  But it didn’t matter because he kept the jersey for a 10th stage.  And the Texan said, “Good job, little Frenchman.” and waited one more day to pull the Magic Yellow Shirt away to claim it for his own.

My mother doesn’t follow cycling, but if she did she would have called me and said, “He rode like a Patriot!”

Our Little League softball team was called the Patriots and we played with worn out gear and old uniforms.  We played and we won and we never quit.  We slid and bled and became heroes.

Like the Frenchman.  Heroes.

We wore red, white (grayish white) and blue - but it could have been yellow.  Or maybe it should have been yellow.

Either way, Voeckler rode into the mountains and stole my little Patriot heart.  At least for 10 days in 2004.  He was a no-name wanna-be-climber kid.  A tiny man with the face of a child.  He did the impossible and understood the impact.  His face betrayed the amazement that I felt.  It was a mid-tour interlude where we could stop thinking about the Texan and focus on the little man who was coming out of his skin with unfettered elation.

It was impeccable.

And then today I heard his name.

And the feelings came back.

I looked at Sal and said, “Voeckler!  They better watch out - he has a magic forcefield, that one.”

And he did. The peloton came but they couldn’t touch him… he rode and gritted and pedaled and grimaced and gutted it out.

And he won.

Shaking his head across the line, in visible disbelief.
Kissing the ring of the woman he loves.
Hands to the sky, hiding nothing.

The magic of Voeckler is that he does not give in to the “cyclist’s cool”.  He wears his heart on his sleeve.  He relishes magic as it comes.

In the crushing world of charging sprinters and steely-faced GC boys, Voeckler is the tiny climber who attacked in the flat and confounded an entire field of the world’s best cyclists.

He’s the hail mary. The long ball in the bottom of the ninth.

He’s my little Frenchman in yellow.  And he just made the 2009 Tour de France worth watching.

No worries!

St Honore Boulangerie (NW Portland, Lake Oswego) - Watch it Live!

St. Honore has been showing the Tour live for years and continues its tradition this year.  While you’re there, be sure to scarf down some pastries.  Eating pastries during the Tour at St Honore is like practicing religion!  (Be aware that popular/mountain stages may see quite the crowd form - arrive early and stake out a good seat.)

Here’s the press release with pertinent info:

Biking jerseys and helmets will be the attire “du jour” at  St. Honoré Boulangerie from July 4 to July 26, 2009 when cycling enthusiasts gather to watch live coverage of the Tour de France cycling race. Each day’s race will be broadcast on large screen televisions each morning and replayed throughout the day. Coverage will begin at 6 a.m. at the NW Thurman location (2335 NW Thurman, Portland) and 7 a.m. at the Lake Oswego location (315 First Avenue, Lake View  Village).

“We love hosting live Tour de France television coverage and bringing Portland’s cycling community together,” says Dominique Geulin, owner of St. Honoré Boulangerie.

The Human Bean Cafe (Hillsboro) - Also Live!

The Human Bean opens bright and early at the crack of crazy - 5:00am - so you’ll have time to suck down your first cup of joe before the coverage starts.  Owner/operator Matt James that if you walk in and the tour isn’t on just ask a barista and they’ll be sure to turn it on for you.

Madison’s Bar and Grill (SE Portland) - NOT Live, but with discounted beer!

If you don’t think the idea of getting up at 5am to watch the tour sounds like the best thing ever, you may want to try the Madison’s approach.  They’ll be showing the replays of the tour (following Versus schedule, posted online here). Madison’s opens daily at 11am on weekdays, 9am on weekends.

If you mention the Everyday Athlete Blog when you go in, your first pint of beer is only $2.  And, let me tell you, the taps at Madison’s are currently GOING OFF.  Ninkasi, Alameda, Lompoc, oh my!  Fancy Oregon beers, $2!  Tour de France!  Rad.

Also, in case you weren’t aware, Madison’s is slinging bottomless mimosas on the weekends.  No really, bottomless mimosas.  Now, that’s just plain silly.  Go drink a mimosa or seven.  And watch the tour.  Tell ‘em Heidi sent you.

Have more locations for Tour viewing?  Send me an email at heidiswift at gmail dot com or leave a comment.

As an athlete writing about athletes, that felt a little creepy.  It’s well-known that I have some superstitious tendencies (Red Sox fan, anyone?) so I wondered if I might be writing the English Rocket straight out of the stage victory.

Of course, I didn’t. Team Columbia-HTC rode to perfection, giving him a textbook leadout.  Cavendish sealed the deal.

It was pretty impressive.

I looked at Sal and said, “I’m glad he did that. Now I don’t have to rewrite this.”

As it was, I filled in the pertinent facts and details and was done with my morning assignment well ahead of schedule.

Whatever you think about Cavendish, watching sprinters of his calibur is nothing short of mind-blowing.  Farrar couldn’t even begin to come around.  Cav just rode away in that low, low, low position that let’s him cut through the air with so much explosive grace.

When I finished filing my stories, I put on a shiny blue Upper Echelon Fitness kit and loaded up two water bottles with ice cubes and electrolytes and calories. Then I rolled out into sun that was not as hot as I expected. Everything was quiet and calm - roads littered with shrapnel and firework debris.  I hit highway 30 with a tailwind and soft-pedaled 23 miles an hour all the way to Saltzman.

I haven’t had a good day on the bike in two months.  I’ve been battling just to log 6 hours a week.  Every time I climb on feels like the first - painful, clumsy, slow, depressing.  Two weeks ago I put myself on “the confidence plan”.  I stopped riding (as I always, always do) with people who put me in my grave when the road turns uphill.  I started going back to what makes me happy: cross rides, westside ambles, mountain biking, Tina Brubaker.

Not exactly training, unless you count the immeasurable value of setting things straight in my little pea brain.

But today I felt the snap. The fresh GO.  The pow pow. The legs wanted to stomp for the first time in so long.

I almost cried.

Instead, I took the Veloforma up Saltzman - past the dog walkers and mountain bike people.  I drilled it and the sweat came off my nose in a stream.  I gasped “hello” and “good afternoon” to everyone I passed. I must have looked like I was dying, but it was quite the opposite.

I replayed images from the Tour in my head and channeled the hard-charging high cadence of Hincapie on the front of the peloton, delivering the Cav to his destiny.  I shouldn’t worship those boys like that, because they’re giants in a make believe world, but there’s something about the Tour that gets inside me.

At the top I flew out on Skyline to a date with Rock Creek. Just a week prior, Einar Traa had tried to kill me going up this climb.  Einar Traa - sixty-something year old Einar Traa!

I was pulling away from the group on Old Cornelius when I noticed a PV jersey to my left.  I’d expected Javad to come to the front, but recalled that he was sporting a vintage 7-11 jersey.  When I looked to my left I was surprised to see the sexagenarian smiling over at me, happy as a clam, poised to drop me like a rock.

We chatted up the gradual incline at the beginning of Rock Creek and then grew silent as the grade increased. He’d half-wheel me and I’d accelerate, then I’d half wheel him and he’d respond.  It wasn’t direct combat, but neither one of us had intentions of falling off the pace.  When he inched ahead of me I observed his fanny pack, rack, fenders and large cargo container with a smiling shake of the head.

“What does he have in there?” I thought.  I found out later: tires (actual tires!), extra jackets, godknowswhat.

At least I was in good hands.

Today on Rock Creek I climb alone, marking my time from the bottom of the steepest section so I can come back and best it later.  I think of Einar putting the screws to me and smile into the warm breeze.

Hillside, pygmy goats, chickens, broken down cars. Banjos?  No, no banjos.

Faded ragdoll strapped to fencepost without reason?  Yes.

Someday I have to find out what that faded ragdoll is all about.

In the meantime I make my way to Skyline and climb my way to Germantown, which is a syrupy descent.  Smoother every time I do it.  Cool and green.  I take the lane on St Johns to avoid the pedestrians on the narrow walkway.  I am a little tiny bike on a big, huge bridge.  I am head down and 25mph with cars passing at 50 in the left lane.

Back in my neighborhood there is cold-press Stumptown coffee and a one-handed one-mile ride to my front porch.  A shower, a dinner, a slow evening.

The riders of the Tour de France are sleeping right now in hotel beds, dreaming of impossible glory.

In the morning they’ll appear in my TV and I will write something about their heroics.

Then I’ll ride again.  Inspired.

Screw Red bull. Cavendish gives me wings.

Tour predictions, here we come.

This is a crazy tour, right?  Right.  I mean Astana has a cluster-f#@* of internal politics going on and no one is happier about it than the media (that may actually be the point). Then there’s the returning champ, Carlos Sastre, whom absolutely no one is even thinking about at the moment.  Bring in the Schleck brothers, Denny-the-stubborn-Russian Giro champ, Cadel “I am sick of this ugly bridesmaid dress” Evans, and Italian-Stallion Pellizotti and you’ve got a serious throw down on the mountain shaping up.

(For the record, due to my romantic arrangement with a Sicilian I am contractually obligated to mention any and all Italian contenders.)

So, given the goat rodeo that is about to go down… what do i think?

Here’s what I think:

GC Top Three:

1. Contador
2. Sastre
3. Armstrong

Don’t ask me why. Contador has been quiet, but I have the sense that he’s fit and ready.  Armstrong looks to be peaking at the perfect moment, but without the confidence of prior years (he admitted in a VN interview to lacking confidence) I’m not sure he’ll throw down enough power early on to garner the Astana team leader role.  That said, the Texan is a stubborn sonofabitch, and after all these years of watching him?  I will never, ever, ever underestimate him.

He scares me.  And I’m inclined to root for him this year simply because he’s not the favorite.

Sastre?  I always love an underdog.  1988 Dodgers World Series anyone?  With all the media hype, I have to admit I’d like to see Astana take a back seat to the little man. But I don’t think it will happen.  I think Sastre will have to settle for second fiddle.  But I think he’ll take some joy in besting the Texan.  Sorry, Lance-fanatics, I’m just calling it like I see it.

Evans is a head case. All signs pointed to yes last year and he couldn’t pull it off.  I’m sorry, but if you come in as the favorite and you can’t deliver?  Lowly  no-name Cat-4 bloggers get to call you a head case and you have to deal with it.  Don’t worry - you get paid enough I’m sure you’re not worried about it.

Schlecks?  All I’ve seen is random bursts of glory lacking any kind of consistency.  The Tour is a long race - consistency is important.  If one of the brothers comes away with the win I’ll be impressed.  And very surprised.

Pellizotti: Those Italians… you can’t trust them. (shhhh…) Who knows, he might be the dark horse.

Green Jersey

Sprinters unite, take back the night!

I am throwing caution to the wind with this one… THOR!!!!

Why?  Because he’s THOR for godsake.  Named after the God of thunder, legs like armies, face like oh-my-god-are-you-the-nicest-man-in-the-world?

But at the end of the day, it’s because he’s Norweigian.  And I’m Norweigian.  And my beloved grandmother (god rest her soul) would have it no other way.

He won’t win, but he’s my pick either way.  (Cav will win, Boonen needs to lay off the snow)

Mountain Polka-Dot Persuasion

Tough one.  Super tough. To be honest, I think the mountain competition is a complete crapshoot, mostly dependent on how the GC battle unfolds.  That said?  Let’s go with Frank Schleck.

Why?  Because his first name is Frank (and I would say “FRONK”) and his last name is Schleck.  Which is a lot like “Shrek”.  And who doesn’t love Shrek!?

That’s all I got. I honestly think the poka-dot prize is way, way, way up in the air.

I anticipate that Mr. O’Rourke will call me out on the polka dot cop-out, and I do not expect to gain any bonus points for dark horses or unknowns, but I’m gonna stay steady and call it true.

So… this begs the question, what do you got???

Spill it.

Who would pay me to sit in front of the television and obsess over the Big Yellow French Race?  Ridiculous.

And yet, the impossible has become reality.  Sure, I have to put together a few coherent sentences afterward, but holy hot damn - they’re paying me to watch the tour!

So, for the next 23 days I’ll wake up at 5am, turn on the big TV that I have claimed to hate 100 million times, and watch as the big boys of cycling duke it out over the most epic roads in Europe.  Then I’ll sweat over my laptop for 2 or 3 hours, dispatch results to Columbia retail stores throughout the country, and syndicate the content to GreatOutdoors.com as part of a sponsorship/partnership between the two.

Mad thanks to the people who helped make this happen - I’m excited, elated, stoked and otherwise enthused.

And the Tour?  Well, the Tour has got me all nervous and flustered and bothered.  And that can only be good.

Check out the Columbia-HTC team preview here and the course overview here.

The fireworks start tomorrow. Are you ready?

I used to be in the DVR/hiding category and, let me tell you, it’s a tough road.  When someone accidentally tells you who won the day’s stage, it’s potentially relationship ending.  For all of you going that route, my thoughts are with you (and you should know that this blog will probably be full of spoilers by 1pm on any given day).

Now, to the resources.

Where to Watch on TV

In the US: Versus.  You already knew this.

Go here for the full schedule. Use the channel finder in the right hand column to determine your channel.

Steephill.tv has compiled information for international viewing schedules and options - this list is incredible!

Where to Watch Online

This was a little tricky to nail down, but here are some good resources.

1. SBS will be streaming: http://tdf.sbs.com.au/tdf2009/
2. CyclingFans.com will update daily with information on where to find the best live streams.
3. Steephill.tv is always a good bet.
4. Justin.tv looks promising

Standard Issue Coverage

1. VeloNews TdF Coverage
2. CyclingNews.com TdF Coverage

Blogs and Columns to Follow

1. See Bike Hugger’s Top Ten List of Blogs to Follow for the Tour de France
2. I think Chris Henry’s column at Road Bike Action Magazine will be good.

Twitter for General News

1. #tourdefrance hashtag feed
2. #tdf hashtag feed
3. CyclingFans
4. VeloNews
   
5. Tour de Fance account
6. Bicycling Mag

Twitter People

1. Lance Armstrong
2. Levi Leipheimer
3. Mick Rogers
4. George Hincapie
5. David Zabriskie
6. Christian Vande Velde
7. Cadel Evans
8. Andy Schleck
9. Phil Liggett (I heart Philly-pants!)
   
10. Paul Sherwen
11. Johan Bruyneel
12. Neil Brown (from ROAD mag)

Twitter from Teams

1. Team Astana
2. Team Columbia-HTC
3. Garmin-Slipstream
4. Cervelo Test Team

Other Good Resources for Pro Cycling on Twitter

Not necessarily related to the Tour.

1. List of top pros on Twitter at Bicycle Frenzy
2. Pro Cycling on Twitter: 48 Cyclists Who Aren’t Lance Armstrong (from Mashable)
3. Big-assed list of Bike Tweeters - industry folk, racers, bloggers, journos, you-name-it… from bikebiz.com
4. Feed of Big Names in Cycling on Twitter

Have a good resource not listed here? Leave it in the comments!

This was a pretty quick pull of information so I’m sure I’ve missed some good stuff.  Let me know and I’ll update as we go along.  As the tour progresses, we’ll see who’s really killin’ it with the coverage over there.

It’s almost here!!!

But seriously - I do love it.  And based on my Highly Scientific Facebook Status polls, I have ascertained the Kombucha is a devisive character.  Either you love Kombucha or you really, really hate Kombucha.

Yeah, but what IS it?

Good question.

Kombucha is the Western name for sweetened tea that has been fermented using a macroscopic solid mass of microorganisms called a “kombucha colony”.  Sounds delicious, right?

Here’s another explanation about the Kombucha organism itself (as opposed to the resulting tea) from the wikipedia page:

The Kombucha organism is a symbiotic colony of yeast’s and bacteria that form a strong membrane that covers the liquid/air interface of the vessel it grows in.

All I know is, if this crap can do half the stuff it claims to, I’m going to live forever.

I’d Like to File a Health Claim

Among Kombucha’s health claims (as transcribed from the side of a GT’s bottle):

Kombucha supports:

• Digestion
• Metabolism
• Immune System
• Appetite control
• Weight Control
• Liver function
• Body alkalinity
• Anti-aging
• Cell integrity
• Healthy skin and hair

Other sources online take it even further, making the following claims:

• Restores hair color
• Thickens hair
• Dissolves gallstones Increases energy
• Lengthens lifespan
• Arterioscrosis/softens veins
• Speeds healing
• Lowers cholesterol
• Lowers blood pressure
• Increases blood circulation
• Eliminates wrinkles/skin humectant
• Improves menopausal symptoms
• Strengthens leg muscles
• Chickenpox /herpes zoster remedy
• Colitis/improves digestion/ nervous stomach
• Poultice for wounds/ulcers
• Cleanses gallbladder
• Lessens anxiety
• Levels glucose
• Protects teeth from cavities
• Activates glandular system

All that?  Really?

I don’t know about all that, but this dude over at a place called the Mayo Clinic claims that the risks outweigh any potential rewards, and cautions us to avoid it.  Since everyone knows that Mayo clogs your arteries, I’m not really inclined to trust him about the Kombucha.

Of course, considering that the kombucha making process involves a SCOBY (symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast), vingar and a dark, warm, quiet place, Mr. Fancy Mayo pants could possibly have a point.  (I mean, that even sounds a little scary to me and I eat Sea Urchin roe.)

Kombucha is a very family-oriented being and Mother cultures (stringy, mucilaginous substances consisting of various bacteria that forms on the surface of a fermenting liquid and causes fermentation when added to other liquids) are required to make new Baby cultures.  Isn’t that sweet?

Yes, yes it is sweet. Or rather, kind of vinegar-ey tasting.  But in the good way.

Convinced yet?  Me neither.  I recommend going out to get yourself some “Gingerade” flavored GT’s Kombucha to try it for yourself.

It should be noted that great care should be taken when doing homebrew Kombucha as contamination can lead to illness. I am tempted to try “growing” some Kombucha myself but haven’t yet rustled up the courage to buy a starter kit and/or kidnap someone’s mother-and-babies.

Alternately, leave a comment and let me know where you stand.  
Kombucha: Brilliant or Barf-Tastic?

References:
http://www.nutrition4health.org/nohanews/NNW97KombuchaTea.htm
The Happy Herbalist
Mayo Clinic
Wikipedia

In my haste to make more stories, I forgot to post links here.

My last column for the Oregonian may do more to explain my delinquency: 14-hour workdays Cut into Two-Wheeled Time.  This was inspired by May - the month that almost broke me - and all of your kick-ass encouragement, feedback, tough love, and support in the comments section. (Things have mellowed out a little, but July promises to be another test of time management).

This week’s column takes us back to the heart of the matter: sitting on a bike and pedaling miles.  100 miles, to be exact.  It explores the glory (and agony if you happen to select the RACC as your first one) of the cyclist’s rite of passage, the Century.  100 miles - sweet!!  “An amble and an uphill scramble bracket Heidi Swift’s 6-year stretch to a century”

Also, I haven’t seen it yet, but there is a rumor that the profile that I wrote of Bissell’s Paul Mach is out in the most recent print edition of VeloNews. I did that interview during the only window that I had to get a ride in while in Hood River covering the MHCC and, you know what?  It was worth it.  Mach’s a really nice guy and a math nerd to boot.  What’s better than a super fast math-nerd pro bike racer?  Not much.

Up next on the scribbling front.

July 12’s column in the Oregonian will be an extra special one for me - a testament and tribute to the strength of our cycling community and a hat-tip to two very special cyclists who went down hard a little over a month ago.

Cascade Cycling Classic is coming up straight away - I’ll be in Bend to cover all the nitty-gritty details (I’ll also be around for Road Nats).  Who knows - maybe I’ll even get to make more pictures of the amazing Mr. Horner again?  He got seriously shafted by Astana for the tour but he handled it well (as he always does).

Speaking of the tour, I’ll be following obsessively this year as part of a corporate reporting gig that I am doing with Columbia Sportswear.  That content won’t be public but I’m sure I’ll be weighing in on The Drama that Will be the 2009 Tour.  I’ll wait until the evening to post but consider yourself forewarned about the possibility of spoilers.

PS: In case you missed it, I really enjoyed this video that Horner did with the Oregonian a few weeks back (”Oh yeah, concussions - those are standard.” …  “I never work on sprinting in training because that’s not what’s going to feed the munchkins.”)  At this point, this is actually pretty heart-breaking to watch. I’ll miss Horner 100%.

I got my mountain bike a few months before the season started and had done some decent rides, but I was still wobbling around on the knobbies all tipsy style. Even the punk kids on Skuuts looked smoother than I did.

So, this year, before I headed out to the beloved Portland International Raceway, I sent a note to a woman I know who used to be a professional downhill mountain bike racer. In my mind, she is one of the toughest, gutsiest, kick-assing-est daredevils around.  Certainly, if anyone could give me a suck-it-up-and-kill-it type of pep talk, it was her.

I expected a few words of encouragement and maybe a virtual pat on the back.  What I got was a little stack of tips that really set me off into the race with a positive outlook. Without taking me into the dirt, Carrie somehow managed to make me feel comfortable on my little mountain bike - and I owe her for it.

She was kind enough to give me permission to reprint her note to me here on the blog.  I especially love the last tip - about confidence.  I think, for me, this is something that is really at the heart of whether I ride well or not. The idea of channeling an emotion is a strong one.  I swear to god I tried to be angry on Monday, but, as you can tell from the photo, I might have missed the mark a bit.

That’s ok - because a picture of myself riding dirt with a look of sheer joy (instead of paralyzing fear) on my goofy little mug tells me that I’ve come a long way. And even though there’s still a long way to go, evidence of progress is certainly something to grin about.

Short Track Tips for Dirt Rookies (from Carrie Barton)

1. People who have spent a lot of time on the road and are transitioning to mountain biking sometimes have a tendency to not be aggressive enough with head to head racing. Aerodynamics aren’t important so get those elbows out. If your stem is at 12 and your sitting at 6 on a clock, your elbows should not be pointed down and at your body. Get the elbows up to about 4:30 and 7:30. You have more stability with your elbows out and you take up more space on the trail, hence you look harder to pass from behind.

2. Keep the elbows slightly bent, no locking them straight. Also, when you’re standing up keep the knees slightly bent. You want to be crouching over your bike. You’re the most “ready” in this position to either attack, avoid, or swerve.

3. Lean the corners. Getting comfortable hitting the corners faster and harder will make you so much faster. To do this you have to lean and trust your tires. It’s also harder to pass someone in a turn if they are leaning (and have their elbows up). This skill takes practice practice practice.

4. It’s all about confidence. If you look confident and ride confident people will not be as willing to challenge you. Head to head MTB racing is very unlike cross country racing or road racing. There’s less time for strategy. You have to find whatever emotion makes you ride the hardest and most focused and go with it. I get pissed. Some people get zen. Get where ever you need to be.

Carrie Barton (VeloBella/FOES Racing) raced downhill mountain bikes professionally  in 2003 and 2004. She is still rides road, mountain, and cross regularly and most of the racing she does now is Cross and Super D/Endurance DH. Don’t ask her about the injury that ended her professional DH career unless you’re sure you’re ready for a really disturbing story.  She also kills it riding those bikes that have motors attached to them - but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

(For the record, my sister was the emergency room queen - I was the projectile vomiter.)

***

While digging through the debris of a four year old move I came across a treasure chest of family kid lore.

Old photographs in envelopes and banded bundles were jumbled in with report cards, athletic letters, homemade birthday, Mothers Day and Fathers Day cards. Drawers full of the stuff had been dumped into the box in the rush of packing.

I’ve never been good at sorting things like this. I read. I fondle each precious artifact and get lost in the drama of a child’s first trip to the emergency room, the slapstick awfulness of projectile vomiting, and the joy of watching a determined little girl with a bloody knee ride without training wheels for the first time. Memories take over. If my wife didn’t decide I was shirking some obligation and drag me back into the present I might be stuck in those happy yesterdays until sometime next week, Or dinner time, whichever came first.

In that big box I found a Fathers Day card our eldest daughter had carefully printed in asymmetrical, mostly backward, wavering letters, undoubtedly delivered with a huge brown eyed smile, a hug and a sweet little kid kiss. I found another from our youngest with her signature hand made fake hallmark insignia on the back. I found piles of team pictures.

I thought about all those years of helping my wife coach baseball. (I got to be the good cop) I relived the endless hours of soccer, tackle football, hockey, basketball, cross country, volleyball, track, proms, school elections, birthday and Halloween parties and on and on. It made me tired just thinking about it all.

There are a number of things in my life I would do very differently or not at all if I had the chance. My girls, my wife and all those hours and hours spent as an over enthusiastic spectator, or coach, or Santa Claus, or the “house of terror garage” creator / operator are things I wouldn’t change for the world.

None of us gets to be a perfect father. But kids are like baseball fans that fill the stadium for the 105th loss. How can you not love fans like that? How could you not glow like 500 watt bulb when a six year old gives you a giant hug and tells you you’re the best dad in the whole world?

Fathers day is almost here again. These days the cards are purchased but the sentiments are not. The kids will celebrate their dad. This dad will celebrate getting to be their father. It remains the hardest, most wonderful job I have ever had. It’s As varied as a child’s moods and imagination, as difficult as disciplining someone you just want to hug.

~Kermit Swift
(aka Kermy, Pops, or Bee-Ba)