Tag: Reflections

Busy busy

I’m almost approaching my first year at Allied Vehicles and I’m busier than ever but, looking back I can see how far things have come since I joined. It’s a very small team, in a very fast paced environment and a lot of what I’m trying to do is help mature our own processes. With a couple of new people joining our team it’s brought a lot of this into focus, both how far it’s come, and how far we have to go. And that’s before we get into all the Business Analyst work I’ve got going on. I was sad when my time with Virgin Money came to an end but in hindsight this new job has been a boon!

It does mean that between my work, and having to be in the office 3 days a week, and spending time with my son, that I’ve not always been the best at finding time for me. I’ve barely been out on my bike, nor managed more than a few runs as, barely halfway through Couch-to-5KM I developed a bit of a niggle in my knee which meant I had to rest for a few weeks, got a physio session to sort it but still means I had to out of doing Etape Caledonia this year. I feel doubly bad for that as I’d talked two of my friends into it and, as one of them also dropped out, my mate is now doing it on his own, his first organised cycle too!

Elsewhere, Jack continues to amaze and delight. He is enjoying a daredevil stage at the moment which is wonderful and terrifying all at the same time, and he flits between being barely a toddler to a young child in an instant, it’s quite startling. We are very lucky that we have a good routine that he understands so for the most part (I mean, he’s a toddler) meals, bath time and bed time mostly go without a hitch. And I’ve just jinxed it…

In a couple of weeks we are heading up north, and will be sleeping with him in a tent. It will be his first time (technically his second but he was still a baby the first time on Mull) so it’ll be interesting to see how he adjusts to it, and how the adjustment goes when we get back. That said, with all the fresh air, and the fact that Granny and Grandpa will be there too, we are pretty confident then sleep won’t be a problem for him as he’ll be exhausted.

Heading into the summer months and on into October, I’m aware that my son is heading towards his 3rd birthday. He’s increasingly independent and we trust him and can leave him ‘unattended’ (in the next room!) to happily play with his toys, or stoating about the back garden looking for ‘wee spidurrs’ and ‘weuyrms’ and hopefully a ‘wee ant!’.

And, inspired by my unstoppable force of nature of a wife (who’s currently smashing her C25K, and slotting in the odd yoga session when she can), I’ve even managed to sort out a few cycles for myself and will be signing up for the local gym soon too. I’m 50, not getting any younger etc etc and definitely not getting any more flexible, or stronger, or lighter with my present, very sedentary, lifestyle. I want to be around for many years to come to enjoy watching the person my son will grow up to be so I need to start taking better care of myself. And yes, I’m posting this wholly for accountability purposes!

Fit for 50 was a goal but I’ll take Fit for 55 if that’s what it takes!

Open the mic

This is my first time
At one of these
and I find myself willing,
hoping
that it won’t be shit
no withering on the vine

But it will be shit
say the voices in my head
loudly spoken
filling me with dread

Stop looking at me, but please
side eye me your approval
slide it along the floor
so I may stoop
and bowing, fall to my knees

They call it imposter syndrome
and sitting THERE
I can see why
From THERE it looks easy to
ignore the nagging despair

Before now I sat
Casting an eye over the words I had writ
In my head hearing them delivered
with poise
a hint of Shakespearean wit

So a seasoned pro to issue forth
Someone else to lend a voice

I hope that the words will fall on sound ears
And darkened faces watching
Silently waiting their turn
Will shift from patience to attention

But now
I am standing HERE!

And it will be shit
the voices say.

It. Is. Shit.

The words are too simple
The cadence is off
There is no desire or passion
Just words that tail…

Sentences drip from my mouth
To the approval less floor
a growing pile of noises
that gather no moss

Song lyrics I may steal
Float in my vision
Anything
Everything
Is better than this

It is shit

Yet

I am standing HERE
Faltering so

I am HERE
Eyes on the door

I am speaking
Aren’t I?

Slide your approval quickly now
My nerve is fading

But the voices elsewhere
Are slowly jading

The dreaded cackle and jeer
Is no longer near

And even though I am writing this before
on a train in the dark
I jostle from that line to this
Settling once then writing more

I know that these words may find a home
Some where
Anywhere
They are not shit

This is something
Not great
Not best
Just a thing
All it needs to be

The delivery is key

I will stand there
I tell myself
And I will do it, I will
and I will not care
for that voice in my head

It shouts me down down
I will rise up and beyond
And deliver a crown
of achievement and glory

All from these words

Typed on a screen
Rarely seen

Never spoken

Until today

This is my first time
At one of these
I hope ohhh I hope
I have been able to please

If not, it is shit
And yet for today
I will own that, and hold it
For I did this TODAY!

So I will take that, and own that
And go on my way.

Forever writing my song

In another life I am a songwriter, likely a piano based performer of my own songs, or perhaps a conductor of a small orchestra. Some of the songs I write are upbeat, proclaiming a love of life, the beauty of a moment stolen, the quiet joy of a tiny yellow flower breathing life into a crack in the pavement. I will write songs and conjure the words for those moments that sear into your brain, that breath catching kiss, the surge of your heart from a stolen look.

I know too that some of my songs would veer towards deep melancholy, thoughts of moments lost, visions of an existence in the dull light of a winter dusk. Together these songs will paint a full picture of a life well lived, love given, glee, despair, hope, and the embracing of all emotions.

My lyrics will be what people remember, an internal (unspoken) goal. The turn of phrase, spinning a web of evocative imagery across all the emotions of life and those words will slowly reveal the most honest version of myself to all who stumble across them.

“But there isn’t words yet for the comfort I get
From the gentle lunette at the top of the nape of the neck that I wake to”

Fly Boy Blue/Lunette – Elbow (lyrics by Guy Garvey)

I will revisit the words I create over and over, and through them discover more about myself than I’d previously known and the cycle will continue again through growth and decay, through event and happening, as I evolve, learn, destroy, build, laugh and love.

As you well know, dear reader, ’twas ever thus. A life written in parts, words thrown hastily onto the screen, re-ordered, edited and occasionally hitting the heights I aspire to, more often than not becoming yet more digital detritus to rightly ignore.

I write such thoughts down infrequently, I have never written a song.

Yes I journal, but not as a habit, more as a tool that I stumble across when I most need it, throwing words in there as fast I can, letting my brain express train onwards, ripping emotions red raw and slamming them into black and white. I take some solace from the act itself, letting the truth that appears in the gaps emerge, the pauses there letting me breath again. I don’t need this as often as I have in the past, a sign I take as growth, contentment, happiness. I know I should capture more of the peaks, yet it’s the troughs that have always dragged me in, the depths that drag me down to a place I find more comfortable.

My self-worth pushes me away from allowing positive value to attach itself. Happiness is firmly held in an ever-fleeting grip, I enjoy life as best I can yet I remain wary. Do I deserve this? When will it be stolen from me again? I have long tried to shift this view, to hold my life lightly, but such habits are limpets on a rock.

A few years ago I sought out a counsellor who helped me realise some of these things. Coaxing me towards a point in my life that turned everything upside down, a single event that I had accepted so wholly that I didn’t even realising I was running from it. The event itself isn’t important, but it’s effect on me was dramatic and still reverberates, influencing who I am today as a man, as a partner, as a husband, as a father.

I write all of this more to try and capture yet another tiny moment in my life that I hope will produce a new outcome. The details remain journal locked but yet here I am, shouting into the void once more, yet with hope that my voice will hold strong over the swell of the assembled masses, instruments bearing me forth on the melody of my life.

I am content that it is this way, I remain a fascination to myself and no doubt a bore to most. My introspective posts are both the worst and best aspects of my blogging habit, I know this, I embrace it.

These are my lyrics, the melody of my life is varied, and yet it is more and more song than it is noise. I am a bad conductor finally wielding the baton I’ve held for so long with some form of expertise. Maybe one day my orchestra will fall into line… no.

My song is increasingly more major key than minor, so let meet me live for the triangle player missing the beat by a fraction, for the single oboe that falters on the high notes, for the plucked string of a cello that finally snaps after far too many years of mishandling. That’s where life is for me, the imperfections, those tiny moments that will live in your mind far longer than the sound of this song.

There are so many highs to be found there, moments of clarity, of joy, and it’s here that the upside down nature of my song falls. A beauty in the final ebbing tones that I cling to, for they are mine, and they are good.

My Generation

I am 50 years old. Whatever that means.

Scientifically, presuming you buy into the whole notion of how we measure (and if you don’t, eh… jog on ya weirdo!), that means I have been on this tiny little planet as it’s taken 50 revolutions around the sun and I’ve managed to stay alive. I don’t take all the credit for that, of course, my parents had a large part in that for the early years but I reckon I can claim at least 35 or so of those years for myself… go me.

I posit all of this because my increasing perception that being part of a specific ‘generation’ is, somehow, now a definition of one’s self.

I looked it up and it turns out – according to this website – that I’m part of Generation X (aka Gen X).

So there you have it.

Apparently that means, as I “grew up in a time when technology was advancing fast, but it wasn’t nearly as readily available as it is today … this generation straddles both the digital and non-digital world, and understands the importance of both.”

Great. Go me! Or something.

Thing is, I’ve spent a long part of my life happily and deliberately pushing gently against such labels. I didn’t have a kid until I was 48, I had tattoos long before they were ‘popular’ (my first when I was 17, that was in 1990 for those keeping track), and whilst many will look at me as a fairly stereotypical white cis male (with middle aged spread well in place), the truth is I’ve always been bi-curious, understanding the fluidity of gender and sexuality, and again, whilst I am married (for the second time) I am not … errr … married to the idea of marriage itself. This time around it was largely to simplify paperwork for our son (case in point, my wife still has her old name on her passport, why change it until we need to?!).

The reason I’m writing this is because over on Threads there has been a few posts all discussing this very topic, which Generation are you and how that might influence your thinking and memories etc. And, as this is the internet, sparked a short questionnaire which offers to give you a more nuanced view as to which % of a given generation you might be… it is focused on work scenarios but on the whole I think it holds true.

My results: “You sound most like a Gen-Xer at work. I’m 39% GenX, 30% Millennial, 22% GenZ, 9% Boomer”.

Which much better fits with my mental model. I think a lot of this is down to my early adopter mentality, I was online a lot from the mid 90s (and learning about computers way before that too). I think being exposed to the growing culture that was evolving online back then, the early IRC chatrooms, the early days of personal websites, the explosion of blogs and more personal takes on world events, all contribute to how I view and communicate online and, as a lot of work these days is online, and I include email in that so this goes back before video conferencing made working from home a reality.

By age I am Generation X but, as the test results show, a lot of my thinking is Millennial as that’s who I ‘grew up’ with online.

As for 9% Boomer, hey that’s just because I value things like punctuation and spelling.

But so what? Like I say, I’m not a fan of labels as they are so easily used to put people down, just because we get around. If that’s your attitude, then why don’t you all just f-f-fade away. (sorry, had to be done).

What Generation are you? And which do you most identify with? Would love to hear your thoughts on this, dear reader!

Matthew Perry

Many years ago there was one of those early internet meme things doing the rounds. You picked three TV characters you thought best represented you, mine were;

  • Toby from West Wing – intelligent, with a heart in the right place covered by many layers of grump and snark.
  • Chandler from Friends – smart, sarcastic, but a good friend with a true heart.
  • Gordon the Gopher – the last pick and more than a little tongue in cheek.

(If I’d put more thought into this, I’d swap out Gordon the Gopher for Lorelai Gilmore because ‘attitude and coffee’).

It was, as ever with such things, a little more than just a quick/silly thing to do and my first two choices were near instant such was the strength of my identification with the characters. I’d enjoyed watching Toby interact in the world of the West Wing, his passion and virtues and single minded determination sometimes making him unpopular but always garnering respect. And Chandler, for me at least, went through the widest character arc on Friends, from the anxious, wise-cracking guy (humour as a defense mechanism, hello!) to a mature, kind, but still a bit silly and flawed adult.

It’s probably a little hard for anyone who didn’t grow up with Friends when it was first being broadcast, who doesn’t remember when the 4th channel was added to UK TV and who now has an enormous selection of media to consume, to fully grasp the impact Friends had at the time. It was what we talked about in the pub, it was what we looked forward to when a new episode was due, it was a huge part of our lives. EVERYONE watched it.

Chandler was, instantly, the character I was drawn to. Overshadowed in popularity by Joey, not as accomplished as Ross, he was an obvious comparison to how I viewed myself and his sarcasm was the icing on the cake. It’s probably telling that his lines are the ones I remember, the ones I mimic, the ones I subconsciously try and re-use.

Like Robin Williams before him, it feels particularly wrong that Matthew Perry is gone. His addictions were well documented of course and despite his fame, particularly with Friends, he wrote about hoping that his legacy was the good he tried to do for others, even if he knew it would mostly about his once-in-a-lifetime role as Chandler Bing.

I’ll admit I’m finding it a little odd just how hard his death as hit me. Like Bowie, and Kobe, their deaths struck me hard (oddly despite being a huge fan, when Prince passed I didn’t feel the same depth of sorrow, I wonder why). Like Bowie, and Kobe, Matthew will always be remembered by one name, Chandler.

His was the only character in Friends to make me cry. Particularly a recent rewatch just before our baby was born, when Chandler confesses his own insecurities about becoming a Dad, mirroring my own thoughts at the time. I didn’t doubt that I’d be a good Dad, flawed and always learning, but a good father to our child, and then Chandler said this…

“My wife’s an incredible woman. She’s loving and devoted and caring… and don’t tell her I said this, but the woman’s always right. I love my wife more than anything in this world. … And when that day finally comes, I’ll learn how to be a good dad, but my wife, she’s already there. She’s a mother without a baby.”

Chandler Bing (Matthew Perry), The One with the Birth Mother.

I do wish that Becca wasn’t always right but she is, and she is a natural mother to our son.

Of course, as Chandler, I laughed more with him than any other character and I think that’s key, a lot of the jokes are against the other characters, but with Chandler (through my eyes at least) it always seemed like we were in on the joke with him. It takes a special skill to deliver performances like that, week after week, doubly so given he was fighting his addictions for several of those years on the show.

I, and no doubt many others, will go and read his memoirs and find out all the things we didn’t know and I hope that I can at least honour his memory that way, by starting to remember him more for all the other good things he did.

But I won’t ever lose sight of the goodness and joy that he brought into my life as Chanandler Bong.

R.I.P. Matthew Perry

Today is now

I’m a sucker for a plan.

I consider myself a goal driven guy. The type of person that’ll find the motivation they need by setting a goal, then doubling down by adding a healthy dose of guilt when I publicly state my intentions.

I’ve always got half a mind on finding new challenges which inevitably means I end up signing up to do a ‘thing’ and that’s when the real fun can start!! The planning to do the thing!!

I won’t lie, it’s perhaps my favourite time with any new project as that means I can research different techniques, maybe look for some new kit or a gadget or two and, most importantly, crack out a new spreadsheet to track it all! Ohh yes my inner geek revels in such things.

The upside is, when it all works and everything goes to plan, I end up doing things I didn’t think I could and the sense of achievement is wonderful.

When it doesn’t then, obviously, I’m a failure (but that’s a whole other post).

Yes dear reader I am, once again, talking about my lifelong quest to become fit(ter) and healthy(er) (and more productive?).

Let’s wind the clock back a couple of years; I’d rediscovered my love of cycling and was training for Etape Caledonia – 40 miles and a fair few hills – and as part of my training managed to tackle a fairly epic ride on the way, including part of the (locally) notorious Crow Road climb; they used part of the route I did in the recent World Championship race so it’s definitely a ‘thing’ and it remains my longest cycle to date.

I had a plan for all of this, what exercise I’d do and when, and on the whole I managed to stick with it week by week. That helped me to find the motivation to get up at 5am to get out on the bike on a Sunday morning, helped me push myself to get up that first big hill and, the more I followed the plan and could start to feel the effects, so the long term goal of not just completing the Etape but doing myself proud was in sight. And on the day itself, if I do say so, I smashed it! My estimated finish time for the 40 miles, based on all the data that Strava had for all the cycling I’d done before, was 2hrs and 47mins. Actual time on the day was 2hrs 16 mins!

As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve gone and signed up to Etape Caledonia again and, on May 12th next year, I’ll tackle the 55 mile route (even more hills!) and why yes, I do already have a plan in place.

Sort of, but not really.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a rough idea of what exercise I’m hoping to do in the weeks and months ahead to get my fitness levels back to where they’ll need to be but instead of planning out each week in detail, I’m only really going to look at specific training in the weeks before the ride itself, until then I’ll be mixing it up a bit and fitting in what I can, when I can.

I’d love to say that I’d done a lot of research about this, that my decision was based on scientific principles, instead I’ll happily admit that this approach is entirely circumstantial and, looking back, it’s taken a while for me to get to a place that such a plan is acceptable (to my planning focused, perfectionist brain).

A few years ago, going out on my bike during the COVID lockdown with the car-free, empty roads was glorious and, as I was working at home and Jack hadn’t arrived yet, I had more freedom and control over my own time so my days were largely mine to plan as I pleased. I made copious plans and by the time I was able to tackle Etape Caledonia for the first time I hit virtually all of my training goals. Hey, it’s easy to stick to a schedule with few other obligations to work around.

Since then the last couple of years have, obviously and rightly, revolved around Jack to make sure he had all the support he (and Becca) needed to be healthy in mind, body, and soul, as he grows. With that as my focus I deliberately chose not to head out on my bike as often, or for as long, as I had been.

However, the goal driven guy that I mentioned early had signed up for a few cycling sportives this year, and of course I had a plan on how I was going to tackle them as, with each event, the mileage was building and building, with the ultimate aim to complete my first 100km before I turned 50.

I didn’t take part in any of the sportives and in hindsight I have no idea how I was going to follow the plans I had laid out. How I thought I’d be able to carve out 4-5 hours for one cycle (and the hours of training it would’ve taken to get to that) when I’d much rather invest my energy spending time with my son and those previously laid plans now seem a bit laughable!

Or maybe I was using life as an excuse to be lazy? Maybe, but I have gotten to spend a lot of time with my amazing, fast growing, cheeky boy and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. He’s doing so well these days and as a family we settled into a pretty steady routine ~ including reliable sleeping patterns for him ~ and I do not regret a single time I decided NOT to go out on my bike, or NOT to go for a run.

In a sense I guess the past couple of years have been an investment in my son, and we are definitely seeing the payoff. If for no other reason than he’s regularly sleeping through the night these days (I know, I know, I’ve just jinxed it), which means I feel considerably more rested which, in turn, means I have more motivation to commit to things that I’ve made plans to do. Tired Gordon does NOT want to go for a cycle or a run, Tired Gordon wants to sit on the sofa all day long, thanks.

Sidebar: In my head there are two versions of me. The one who achieves and plans and does things and commits 100% (often to the cost of other things) and the one who is the laziest lazy person of all time.

This has given me a sense that I can start to set some goals again, that I’ll be able to manage the training required. So, as soon as I saw the early bird signups for Etape Caledonia were open, I jumped at the chance. It’s something I’ve done before so isn’t a leap into the unknown and it was an event I enjoyed the last time. However, this time around, as soon as I was finished completing the signup form, I didn’t find myself immediately reaching for Excel, my brain wasn’t rushing to break down the coming months into training schedules and rest days.

It appears that my mindset has changed.

I am planning to exercise when I can but, rather than structuring each week carefully, I’m going with the notion of “every little helps” and I know I’ll find times to get some exercise done when I can. Since we moved we now have a garage with an area cleared for workouts and soon I’ll get my turbo set up so, rain or shine, I can crack out 30 mins or so on the bike. That should do for the winter months, especially if you add in a goal for 2023 to complete the local ParkRun course and that’s plenty! (I don’t mind running in rain, or even snow, but cycling? No thanks).

Some of this new mindset is based on circumstance, but I have to acknowledge that there is also an element of personal growth at play, some things I’ve learned the hard way but which have, over the past couple of years, brought me a new sense of self. It’s nothing radical, but something I’d been trying to embrace for a few years and which has, almost by stealth, become a much more prevalent part of my outlook.

Living in the now.

This is not entirely down to having the aforementioned wonderfully bright and engaging boy to spend time with, nor is it entirely due to having to deal with both the upheaval of moving house twice within the last year and suddenly losing my job, but rather it seems that the accumulation of all of these life events have actually helped me learn the simplest of lessons, the ability to be present in the moment, the mindset to live in the now and not worry (too much) about the future or the past.

It’s most evident when I have dedicated time with my son. Viewing the world through his eyes, watching him grow, and develop, becoming this cheeky, inquisitive, gentle soul makes most other things diminish into the background completely. What is more important at those moments in time than just being present for my son? It’s perhaps telling that he is now able to say ‘Daddy, pone dow’, suggesting (rightly) that I spend too much time on my phone, and that I should put it down and focus on spending time with him.

For me I think the most notable, recent, example of this shift was when my last work contract was cancelled out of the blue, on the very evening we were about to set off on holiday. In the past that would’ve consumed me for weeks, my mind churning over what I could’ve done differently to change it (nothing), and what the impact was going to be in the immediate future (a new job) but after chatting it through with Becca it quickly became just something to deal with. Sure it took me a couple of days but in the past it would’ve consumed me for weeks.

And it is increasingly becoming the way of things. I may still get annoyed by things, but they don’t consume as they used to. What’s the point in letting all that negative energy build up?

I can’t take all the credit of course, Becca is calmness personified, measured in her thoughts and with a wonderfully balanced view of the now and the future, and a pretty good take on leaving her past in the past. I’ve learned so much from her and without doubt her consistency and support have been a large part of helping me get to where I am now. What a lucky guy I am.

I know that I will always set myself goals and I’ll always be a sucker for a plan, those aspects of me I don’t want to change as they can be useful at times. It’s just that the these days the plans are a little more vague and a little more open to adapting to whatever life throws at me next and the goals, if achieved, will be accepted a bit more graciously with the knowledge that they were achieved without throwing the rest of my life out of balance.

I recently decided to get back on track with my Couch-to-5K efforts, something I completed a couple of years ago but which I didn’t sustain, and lo and behold I broke my little toe and haven’t been able to run now for the past 3 weeks, with another 2 or 3 weeks recovery ahead of me. It was annoying (hell, it was bloody agony at the time) but all it is is a minor setback. I know I’ll get back to it, my toe will heal and all that’s happened is my plans, my goals, moved out a little.

Tomorrow I will assess how I feel and make a decision. Because by then, it will be now.