Hiking, how life changes as we get older

Most of my friends know that I have been hiking every so often the last year down the street from my home at Hellman Park in Whittier.

Hiking is all right, kind of slow and you get to enjoy the environment more closely. It is a great low impact workout.

But I do miss mountain biking. Growing up in the desert during my adolescent years, I have been bicycling since I was a young child. First, BMX, as most of my friends since living in the desert you can do some crazy challenges like making 20 foot jumps, table-tops, burns and such. A few of my friends were pretty good at BMX, but they were some crazy white boys. A couple of them built their own personal racing tracks on their property. lol. It must be in their blood to do the extreme.

When you become a teenager, BMXing is not cool unless you compete. As much as I enjoyed it, I gave it up since I was getting too big for a small bike. At that time, there were no bikes such as a BMX for bigger kids unless you rode a motorcycle. I never liked motocross dirt bikes since they scared the crap out of me. The motorcycle didn’t scare me, I scared myself. Many of my friends were into motocross and they did some insane stuff on them. My friend, David loved riding dirt bikes. I wonder if he still does with his family in South Dakota.

Fortunately for me, mountain bikes were starting to come on to the scene. I bought one around 1988, a white Univega. Although it did not have any suspension what so ever, it was awesome. I would go into the mountains or desert trek through with friends, making a day out of it. I loved speeding down a mountain, the thrill of it. I was such an adrenaline junkie back then.

My favorite ride, with my friends, was going up State Route 173 which is the back way into Arrowhead Lake. We then rode back down the mountain. 173 is the only state highway in California that has a dirt road on it. The dirt portion went for more than 10 miles along the mountain. The ride down the mountain was awesome and we had no suspension.

One time, we went up this mountain trail on the northern backside of Silverwood Lake right off 173, it was steep trail. We were going fast down it and then I hit this huge rock that donuted my rim. I flipped over my bike and rolled down the mountain for a bit. It was thrilling, but I was bit wild and somewhat foolish in my youth. I was alright more or less no major injuries, just some road rash. I now had a problem; I didn’t want to trek down the mountain trail lugging my bike as my friends rode down. I ended up tweaking my rim as straight as I could, removed the front brakes and rode down the mountain. It was pretty funny and I had to buy new rims which gave me a reason to upgrade.

One of the coolest and longest rides I did, I was by myself. At the time, I was upset and confused for whatever reason (adolescent angst), so I decided to go into the desert as far as I could by myself on my bike. If you ever drove on the Interstate 15 on your way to Las Vegas, you pass Victorville. In between Victorville & Barstow on the 15 freeway is 30 miles of desert. I rode on Interstate 15 for a while and got off at bell mountain road exit and then rode west into the desert. I rode about 3 or more hours into the desert to the top of this large hill (mountain?) in the middle of nowhere. It was serene and it was hot!

All I had was shorts, t-shirt, helmet, some power bars and two water bottles. It was so hot, and I was pretty far in the desert. Back then I used to tan a lot so I rode without a shirt for a while. A few times as I was coasting down a slope quietly on the sand; I would sneak up on some wildlife such as rabbits on the trail. I remember it was so quiet that I could hear my heart beating at times.

After many hours of riding in the middle of the desert, I finally reached an old highway on the other side on old highway 66, now called National Trails Highway. I then headed south towards home. It took me all day.

I got home at dusk, burnt out and tired. I wasn’t upset anymore as a matter of fact, I do not even remember why I was so mad I decided to go on such a ride into the desert.

I have many other memories of my mountain biking adventures throughout the years. Unfortunately, when I crushed my wrist when the car fell on me several years ago my riding has never been the same. If you haven’t heard about my Acura falling on me while I was changing the oil underneath; that’s another story. Although I don’t ride hardcore as I used to do in my youth; my wrist was still weak and it was painful when I rode on simple dirt trails even on full suspension.

I gave up my mountain bike about two years ago. I do I miss it though. As I am getting older, I miss not being able to ride as I used to do by creating that adrenaline rush of freedom by pushing myself to the edge of my abilities. I must have mountain biked for at least 15 years, that’s a long time.

Hiking is okay. I remember when I used to bike on a trail and pass a hiker, I would think to myself, “why would anyone want to hike?” Now I am hiking, the irony of it.

I might invest in another mountain bike just to do some light trail riding since it has been a while since my accident and my wrist does not hurt as much anymore. I do not believe that I can truly bike on a mountain trail as I have done in the past. I will miss it and cherish my memories of my rides with my friends. It was a great life experience for me that lasted many years.

That is my random thought for the day. I haven’t thought about riding in a long time and it was brought up in conversation. For some reason, I was thinking about it as I was hiking by my home this weekend.

Life changes, we adapt and keep moving forward, enjoying the memories.

PEACE.

The lost art of cooking…and love?

The lost art of cooking…and love?

I have been contemplating writing about this subject of cooking and how a lot of women do not know how to cook or see it as a chore.

My thoughts were prompted one day when I perused through a friend of mine’s book titled, “Why Men Love Bitches”.

In the first chapter it states that you shouldn’t impress anyone by cooking him a four-course meal. The book’s advice: start by cooking him popcorn served in Tupperware.

WTF? I am thinking.

But the book goes on to state that women overcompensate when it comes to cooking and that cooking should only be done in “special occasions”, like birthdays, anniversary or when he has earned it.

It even gives a recipe: Popcorn for appetizer, Hot Dog for the main course, Kool-Aid as a beverage and a Hostess jelly roll as dessert.

Now let me tell you from a man who is sophisticated, intelligent, educated, who keeps his own home tastefully furnished and knows how to cook; this is the worst advice I have ever heard in my life!

If a woman I am dating invites me over to her home for a meal and serves me hot dogs, Kool-Aid and a jelly roll, I would think; what am I, in the third grade?

Or what kind of lifestyle does this woman lead?

Of course, I would smile and accept the meal as it would be the polite thing to do, but I would NEVER call or see that woman again.

My reasoning would be as follows:

First, there is an occasion for everything, even Kool-Aid. This was not one of them.

Second, if I were to be invited into a woman’s home for a meal it would probably be after we dated a while. I would figure that she is allowing me into her private life and really likes me. Serving me a meal like this tells me she doesn’t value me very much.

Third, when I invite a woman over my home for dinner, I do my best to cook a delicious meal so that she enjoys it and is impressed with my skills in a kitchen. I am showing that I care about her.

Popcorn, hot dogs, Kool-Aid and a jelly roll? If this is what the dating world is coming to and advice women are seeking, I want no part of it.

As a bachelor who has never been married nor has any children of my own; I’ve learned how to cook since I was young out of necessity eating well and my enjoyment of good food. I mean, who can really live on fast food all of their life, much less live?

Not me.

Yet, a majority of the women that I date and many of my ex-girlfriends do not know how to cook or see it as a chore and rarely cook. I am always amazed by this fact.

Maybe it’s from a woman’s perspective, growing up seeing their mom always cooking in the kitchen serving the family meals. From a traditional point of view, maybe they see it as being a servant? I don’t know, but I do have a different perspective on cooking.

I grew up in a divorced home, living with my dad as an adolescent, coming home from school as a latch key kid since I was 9 years old. My afterschool meals meant cold cereal, PB&J, fruit or anything else a little boy could satisfy his hunger until my stepmom came home from work hours later at around 6:30pm. She didn’t have much cooking skills herself and she was tired from work so meals generally consisted of a cold sandwich or fast food. Rare was the hot home-cooked meal.

My father and grandmother (as well as my aunts) are excellent cooks. My father had constant arguments with my stepmother about cooking. Like many women today, my stepmom saw it as a chore whereas my father seen it as a way to show his love to his family and provide us with good nourishment. To this day, I think my dad make the best Chile Verde. Mom’s cooking was not as good as my Dad’s but she also did her best for us when I visited her.

Many of my best childhood memories are of eating some type of meal with my family; whether it was my Dad, Mom, Grandmother–whoever.

To this day, when I visit my grandmother who is in her later seventies, she always tries to feed me. She doesn’t do this because she has to do it; she does it because she loves me. This is her way to show her love. Of course, I’ll let her cook me a meal since she enjoys it so much, but I don’t allow her to cook as often anymore when I visit because she is getting older. She can be stubborn about it though—like me.

As you might have guessed, I really enjoy cooking. Since I live alone, cooking is not the same as if you cook for friends or family. To me, when I cook a great meal and eat it alone, I feel that something is missing. It is not the same as it is when you cook for somebody else. Food, cooking great meals should be shared with others, especially the ones you love.

One of my favorite things I like to do is invite my friends over, cook and share a meal with them. I’ve personally started some traditions of my own for certain special occasions so that I may be able to cook for my friends and loved ones.

Given my views on this subject, you can only imagine what I think of a person especially a woman that I am dating, when they say they don’t know how to cook and see it as a chore.

I remember a time when one of my girlfriends that I loved dearly tried to cook me breakfast one day. She could barely make toast but she tried because after years of being with each other, she finally got it. She attempted making scrambled eggs with lox mixed in. For those of you that is not familiar with lox, its smoked salmon. It was awful! Yet, I appreciated the fact that she wanted to show that she loved me by doing this.

What is funny is that although I cooked for her many, many times during our relationship; this one time she tried her best to cook for me, will be a memory I will always cherish.

In closing, I must share that cooking food is not only a way to give your body nourishment, pleasing the senses, but is also a way to show your love.

Cooking might be a chore and it might seem difficult at times, but by not knowing how to cook, you are missing a way of showing your love for others.

Hopefully one day, I will have the privilege of cooking for my own family or better yet, cooking together with my significant other to feed our family. Until then, my home will always be open for family and friends to share a meal.

Peace.