Dec 23 2025 2025-12-23 2025-12-23 by Ross

The Mind Reels,,,

Posted in Something Good

The other day, my oldest friend—the one I met in kindergarten, went through primary and secondary school with, and then roomed with in college—turned 60.

That stopped me cold.

It’s blowing my mind, in a good way. I can’t believe we’re that old. (To be fair, I don’t turn 60 for another three months, but let’s not split hairs.) Sixty sounds… ancient. And yet it doesn’t feel ancient at all.

It feels like yesterday we were in high school. Even more so, college. My best friend is still my college roommate, and even though I’ve known him for 41 years—holy cow—it still feels like I met him last week. Time compresses like that when the connection sticks.

Every morning I wake up next to the perfect woman for me. Maybe not everyone’s cup of tea, but absolutely mine. It blows my mind that we’ve been married for 27 years and together for 29 (or something like that—I honestly don’t know the exact math anymore). I remember our first date like it just happened. The details are still there, sharp and clear, while entire decades somehow evaporated.

So much life fits between those moments. Kindergarten with Jim. College with Bob. Law school shenanigans and everything after with Dave. So many good times. Plenty of stressful times too—but somehow, looking back, they’re all remembered with fondness. Even the hard parts have softened.

As I settle into what feels like the last part of the third quarter, I’m trying to appreciate that it’s still the third quarter. It’s not late in the fourth. I know the clock can speed up without warning—any day, some doctor could tell me it’s cancer—but for now, I’m here. Aware. Amazed.

I’m not sure where this post is going, other than to say I’m stunned that I’m 59, don’t feel much older than my mid-20s, and have been incredibly lucky. Blessed, really. With friendships that lasted, love that deepened, and a life that turned out far better than I had any right to expect.

If I died tomorrow, I’d be happy.

I got more than I deserved.

It’s great to be alive.


Dec 22 2025 2025-12-22 2025-12-22 by Ross

Why, Oh Why? (can’t get out of my own way edition)….

Posted in Old Man Yelling at the Sky, Something Good

I had a lovely day.

It was the first day of “break” — which, since I don’t work weekends anyway, just means it was the first day I wasn’t supposed to be at work. Naturally, I still woke up at 5:30 a.m. Old habits die hard. But that meant coffee, the paper, and a quiet start to the day, which is never a bad thing.

I had an eye doctor appointment downtown, and three unusually good things happened in a row:

  1. The train was already sitting on the platform when I arrived.
  2. The eye doctor took me 40 minutes early.
  3. The train home was waiting for me when I got there.

No waiting. Anywhere. A small miracle.

Because I was suddenly ahead of schedule, I squeezed in a 45-minute swim. That alone should have earned me some cosmic bonus.

Next up: I went with my daughter to her dentist appointment. I wasn’t sure why my presence was required, so I asked. She said, “Because Mom would come back with me.”

I just looked at her.

She knew immediately that wasn’t happening. She’s 21. Nope. Still, it was nice to hang out with her for a bit.

More good news rolled in: the older boy (law school) and my daughter both received their semester grades. Let’s say… they clearly take after their mother.

Another win.

Then the younger son came over and made us dinner. Check.

After that, the boys and I played Rock Band for an hour. Loud, ridiculous, and fun.

All good. A genuinely good day.

And yet…

I’m stressed. Anxious. Heart racing. I feel like my blood is auditioning for a NASCAR pit crew.

Why?

Because I am a moron who drank an energy drink at 4:30 p.m.

I knew better. I know energy drinks make me bonkers. I know I need to cut back on caffeine.

And yet.

So if you see me later tonight lying perfectly still, staring at the ceiling, wondering why my body thinks a bear is chasing it — now you know.


Dec 21 2025 2025-12-21 2026-01-04 by Ross

This Week in Training – Week 13: Decimal Point Rage….

Posted in Cycling, Running, Swimming, Training, Triathlon

IMWI 2026: The Long Crawl to the Base Phase
(Progress, motivation, and numbers that are offensively close to round.)

Solid week. Better motivation, better consistency, and a noticeable jump in workload without feeling broken afterward. Relative effort topped out at a quarter high — if not longer — which I’ll take as a sign things are moving in the right direction.

I wrapped the week with a fantastic recovery smoothie: frozen berries, yogurt, milk, Ballerina Farm protein powder, and a banana. Ridiculously good. Possibly the highlight of the week.

Swim 🏊

  • Workouts: 2
  • Total Distance: 4,000 yards
  • Total Time: 1 hour 19 minutes
  • Notes: Solid swims. And yes, the OCD part of my brain is screaming that I couldn’t just do one more minute to make it a clean number.

Bike 🚴

  • Workouts: 3 (including a brick)
  • Total Distance: 43.98 miles
  • Total Time: 2 hours 25 minutes
  • Notes: A nice jump in volume without injury. Also: 43.98 miles? Come on. I couldn’t tack on another .02? This will haunt me.

Run 🏃

  • Workouts: 3 (including one off the bike)
  • Total Distance: 11.59 miles
  • Total Time: 1 hour 57 minutes
  • Notes: Again with the decimals. Had I known I was going to land at 11.59, I would’ve run a half block more just to restore order to the universe. The six-mile run this morning was sloooooooowwww, but it got done.

Strength/Other 💪

  • Workouts: None
  • Notes: Still pretending this will magically appear in the plan on its own.

Relative Effort 📈

  • Total Weekly Effort: 619
  • Notes: Quarter high and the highest it’s been in a while — but still manageable and injury-free, which is exactly where I want it.

Reflections ✍️

This felt like a real step forward — more volume, better motivation, and no immediate consequences. I’ll take slow runs and ugly decimals if it means consistent progress.

The following two weeks should be solid, though I’ll need to shuffle workouts around because of travel. That’s fine. I’m learning that flexibility matters more than perfection. Even if the numbers occasionally offend me.

Goals for Next Week 🎯

  • Keep the momentum going.
  • Make the math cleaner if possible.
  • Adjust workouts around travel without skipping them entirely.
  • Accept slow runs as part of the process.

All good. Still building. Still moving forward.


Dec 16 2025 2025-12-16 2025-12-16 by Ross

Goals for 2026 (Not Resolutions)…

Posted in Sharpen the Saw

I recently listened to something by Mel Robbins where she said you should tell someone your goals. Apparently saying them out loud makes them more real. Accountability, psychology, magic—whatever. It worked just enough that I’m writing them down here.

These are not resolutions. I don’t do resolutions. Resolutions are made to be broken sometime between January 12th and the first unexpected snowstorm. These are goals. Aspirations. Gentle nudges toward a slightly better version of myself.

So, here we go.

The Big Goals

  • Lose 20 pounds. Ideally be as close to wedding weight as possible by 10/11/26 (180 lbs.). I am realistic enough to know this won’t happen by wishing it into existence.
  • Finish Ironman Wisconsin 2026. Not podium. Just finish. Upright.
  • Learn to drum. By “learn,” I mean keep a steady beat and throw in a fill without derailing the entire song.
  • Continue learning ASL. And actually use it, not just collect signs like trivia.
  • Volunteer at least once a month. Be useful. Show up.

What That Probably Requires

This is the less glamorous part.

  • Fewer martinis (or none)
  • Less junk food (or none)
  • More fruits and vegetables
  • Healthier Blue Apron choices
  • Pizza capped at once a week (and not frozen—standards matter)
  • Fewer processed foods (or not)

Training-wise: actually follow the plan from the Fink book instead of “mostly” following it while convincing myself I’m still disciplined.

Music-wise: practice daily. This assumes a drum kit appears at Christmas. If not, I will continue tapping on desks and steering wheels like a menace.  Play bass/guitar during lunch at work.

ASL-wise: practice daily and set aside one weekend night where my wife and I only communicate in sign. This will either deepen our connection or end in laughter and wildly incorrect grammar. Possibly both.

The Reality Check

Full transparency: tonight I am having a martini and frozen pizza. I’m not pretending otherwise. After that, I’m draining the beer in the fridge and mailing the remaining kits and Pinter to my friend Bob. I don’t need that much beer in my life. Someone else will enjoy it more.

I’ll keep exercising over break. I’ll start tightening up my eating—not because it’s terrible now, but because it could be better. And I’ll keep working on ASL.

I also signed up to volunteer on New Year’s Day. That felt like a good way to start—doing something outward-facing instead of just making inward promises.

The Martini Problem (and Other Substances)

The martini is always going to be a thing. It’s not why I gained weight (that honor belongs mostly to teaching), and one a week isn’t a health crisis. But I am curious what life looks like with less stuff in it—less alcohol, fewer processed foods, less reliance on caffeine and meds.

I want to see what baseline me looks like when I:

  • exercise regularly – sunlight, fresh air, moving my body
  • interact with people intentionally – seek out opportunities to be with others instead of sitting on my couch doom scrolling.
  • feel connected to something bigger than myself

 

No Policing, Just Posting

I’m not asking anyone to hold me accountable. That’s not fair, and it never works anyway. This is just me putting the goals out into the universe… and onto my blog… because saying them out loud feels like a small but meaningful step.

That’s it.
Goals, not resolutions.
Pizza tonight but start intentions tomorrow
Work tomorrow – without complaining but using the “I get to….” motto.


Dec 16 2025 2025-12-16 2025-12-16 by Ross

Blame, But Make It Progress…

Posted in Sharpen the Saw

 

I hate to admit this, but an Instagram reel made me think.

Not a book. Not a sermon. Not years of wisdom distilled by a philosopher who lived in a cave. A reel. White text on a black background. Probably set to some mellow piano music.

The message went something like this:
An ignorant person blames others. A person who is growing blames himself. A wise person doesn’t blame anyone.

And annoyingly… it hit.

For most of my adult life, I’ve skipped right past blaming other people. Traffic, coworkers, the system, my upbringing — none of that really sticks for me. When something goes sideways, my reflex is to look inward.

What did I do wrong?
What should I have done differently?
Why didn’t I see this coming?

That feels mature. Responsible. Enlightened, even.

Except… sometimes it’s just self-flagellation with better branding.

The reel made me realize that while blaming myself is better than blaming everyone else, it’s still blame. It still comes with a quiet background soundtrack of guilt, second-guessing, and replaying conversations in my head like I’m studying game film after a bad loss.

The idea of not blaming anyone — including myself — feels like a whole different level. One I’m not fully at yet, but one I like the sound of.

Not blaming anyone doesn’t mean shrugging and saying, “Oh well, nothing matters.” It doesn’t mean not taking responsibility or refusing to change. It just means I can look at something and say, “That didn’t go the way I wanted,” without immediately turning it into a character indictment.

No villain. No idiot. No internal scolding.

Just… information.

Around the same time, I saw another post that stuck with me:
Everything in life happens for me, not to me.

I know. That sentence alone probably made some people roll their eyes so hard they pulled a muscle. It sounds like something printed on a mug next to a candle that smells like eucalyptus and optimism.

But still — I liked it.

Not because I think every bad thing is secretly a gift wrapped in misery, but because it reframes the question. Instead of “Why is this happening to me?” it becomes “What am I supposed to do with this?”

That’s a subtle shift, but it matters.

This all ties into a mantra I’ve been working on most of this year: swapping “I have to” with “I get to.”

I don’t have to work out. I get to run today.
I don’t have to run errands. I get to hang out with my wife while we do them.
I don’t have to deal with responsibilities. I get to — because having them means I’m still very much in the game.

Some days this works better than others. Some days my inner voice still wakes up grumpy and skeptical, arms crossed, muttering, “Let’s not get carried away here.”

I don’t think I’ll ever be Mr. Upbeat. That’s not my brand. I’m not going to start greeting life with jazz hands and unsolicited positivity.

But I can aim to not be Daddy Downer.

I can notice when I’m blaming myself for things that are just… part of being human. I can stop acting like every misstep needs a lesson plan and a penalty box. I can keep working to change what needs changing without beating myself up for not having already changed it.

So yes, an Instagram reel made me think.
I’m not thrilled about it.
But if wisdom shows up where it shows up, I guess I’ll take it — without blaming anyone.


Dec 14 2025 2025-12-14 2026-01-04 by Ross

This Week in Training – Week 12: A Planned Step Back

Posted in Cycling, Running, Swimming, Training, Triathlon

IMWI 2026: The Long Crawl to the Base Phase
(Not base. Not even pre-base. More like “setting the maintenance floor.” It’s a process.)

I stepped back a wee bit this week, and that was mostly planned. I’m modifying what will eventually become my first actual base week. It’s still way too early to start base, but I want that starting point to reflect my real maintenance level — something I can actually hold while working, living, and not burning out.

On paper, the plan called for eight workouts. I made five. Not ideal, but also not catastrophic. I’m still building up, and I still have a job. Next week I should be able to hit at least five again, maybe all eight. After that, I’m off work for two weeks, which should make things much easier.

Swim 🏊

  • Workouts: 1
  • Total Distance: 2,225 yards
  • Total Time: 45 minutes
  • Notes: This is where I missed a workout, and I felt it. I just couldn’t get to the pool after work on Friday. Today wasn’t easy either – the windchill was negative – but I got up and got it done. Felt good once I was in, and kind of wished I hadn’t skipped the earlier one.

Bike 🚴

  • Workouts: 2
  • Total Distance: 27.32 miles
  • Total Time: 1 hour 30 minutes
  • Notes: Most of this was a one-hour Power Zone Peloton ride. The other was a more leisurely 30-minute ride as part of a brick – first brick workout in probably a decade, which feels both exciting and vaguely irresponsible.

Run 🏃

  • Workouts: 3 (including a run off the bike)
  • Total Distance: 9.13 miles
  • Total Time: 1 hour 32 minutes
  • Notes: Slightly shorter than the ~10 miles I’ve been running lately, and that’s fine. It’s also why I don’t mind missing one of the scheduled runs – the overall load is still there.

Strength/Other 💪

  • Workouts: None
  • Notes: Still theoretical at this point.

Relative Effort 📈

  • Total Weekly Effort: 478
  • Notes: Down from recent weeks. One more swim probably would’ve pushed it close to two of my last three weeks. All three missed workouts would’ve blown past that – and possibly into overuse or injury territory. So this worked out.

Reflections ✍️

I missed one run, one bike, and one swim. Sigh. But there’s room for growth, and that’s the point right now. This felt like a reasonable, controlled step back – not a derailment. The goal is durability, not hero weeks.

Goals for Next Week 🎯

  • Hit at least five workouts, ideally all eight.
  • Get both swims in.
  • Keep brick work in the mix.
  • Build consistency without forcing it.

All told, this was fine. Not perfect, but solid. The floor is getting higher, and that’s what matters.


Dec 13 2025 2025-12-13 2025-12-13 by Ross

First Batch…

Posted in Beer

First Pour: Brewing (and Drinking) My First Pinter Beer

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I ordered a Pinter a few weeks ago because, like many people of weak will and strong curiosity, I am a sucker for Instagram ads.

The deal was the classic kind of “free.” Free Pinter… so long as I commit to what feels like tens of thousands of dollars in beer kits. In reality it’s more like six kits over the next year, which seems reasonable when you phrase it like that and stop thinking too hard about it.

Winter calls me to drink dark beer, so I started with the Dark Matter kit. It’s described as a classic stout: “A dark, sweet, full-bodied and slightly roasty ale. Roasted barley and malt aromas, and a hint of chocolate.” I was in.

Brewing: Shockingly Easy

The process could not have been simpler.
Put water in the Pinter.
Dump the kit contents.
Wait.

For this beer, it was five days of brewing, then another seven days in the fridge to condition. That’s it. No boiling. No sanitizing every object in the house. No panic that I’ve ruined everything by looking at it wrong.

Today was tap day.

First Pour (and Second… and Third)

The first glass was 100% foam. A proud, towering monument to carbonation. It took a few pours to get mostly beer, and I quickly learned not to open the tap all the way like I’m pouring a Guinness in a pub. Reddit tells me it improves after a day or two, so we’ll see.

Once the foam settled down, the beer itself was… fine. Solid. Definitely stout-like. A little sweet, a little roasty. Not bad at all. The main issue right now is that it’s heavily carbonated, which feels slightly at odds with what I want from a stout. Again, I’m hopeful that it improves with time.

The “Too Much Beer” Problem

I wish my block had garage beers, because this would be a great way to share it and clear it out. Unfortunately, bottling isn’t really recommended, and I’m not bringing a keg to work. Otherwise, I’d happily fill a growler and pass it around to neighbors.

I like it. I’ll drink it. I just don’t need this much beer this often.

I think it makes about 16 pints, at 5% ABV. I could have more than one, and damn if a tapped keg in my fridge doesn’t make that easier, but I don’t really need it. That said, an 8-ounce glass with dinner feels just about perfect.

Where this thing will really shine is hosting: a BBQ, a party, maybe even hauling the Pinter to someone’s house on New Year’s. That feels like its natural habitat.

Verdict (So Far)

My next batch arrived today—three kits waiting in the wings. Bonus: the shipment came with two free glasses, which immediately made the whole thing feel more legitimate.

So far, the Pinter is easy and fun. Is it the greatest beer in the world? No. But it’s mine, I made it with almost no effort, and it came out drinkable on the first try. That counts for something.

Next up: a 9% ABV Imperial Stout, which happens to be my favorite style (though Evil Twin’s Imperial Biscotti Break still reigns supreme).

It’s great to be alive… even if the carbonation seems a bit high. 🍺


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Dec 12 2025 2025-12-12 2025-12-12 by Ross

Something Good Every Day: This Evening…

Posted in Something Good

If I’m being honest, today’s “something good” is not a big thing or an impressive thing. It’s this evening. Just… this.

My wife built a proper fire in the living room fireplace — the kind that crackles reassuringly and makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something just by sitting near it. She’s practicing the piano, and since she’s actually excellent, it’s pleasant rather than the “learning phase” where you wonder if your homeowners’ insurance covers emotional damage.

I’m having a martini. Pizza is on the way. Late,r we’ll watch the Blackhawks game and/or the new season of a Norwegian Christmas show that dropped today, because nothing says holiday cheer like Scandinavians and existential winter lighting.

The pets are nearby, which is their way of confirming that we are still their primary source of heat and food. The kids are all out in the world, on their own, and doing well — which is the parental equivalent of checking the weather radar and seeing no storms headed your way.

This will be the last Friday night like this for a little while, but that’s a good thing. Because next week, at this time, the two kids living in Boston will be home for a month. I’ll be off work for two weeks, as will the younger one. We’ll head to central Ohio for Christmas, play family games, watch movies, and sit around doing nothing in particular — which, at this stage of life, is a wildly underrated activity.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a close family that actually enjoyed spending time together. I didn’t realize how rare that was until later. In law school, I dated a woman who had a similarly close family and a small Chicago house. I remember loving how cozy it felt — crowded, warm, loud, and safe all at once.

Tonight, I feel that in my own house. And next week, it’ll be even better, when the cozy house gets louder and messier and filled with everyone again.

I’ve made peace with a lot of things this week. Some old worries have quieted down. Some long-running mental arguments have finally adjourned without issuing an opinion. I’m doing well.

I don’t take this for granted — not for a second. I’m a lucky and blessed man. I’m also at peace* (finally living up to the blog’s title)

It’s great to be alive.

 

*which I 100% just jinxed.


Dec 12 2025 2025-12-12 2025-12-12 by Ross

Risking Everything….

Posted in Old Man Yelling at the Sky

I continue to be amazed at what some people are willing to risk.

Take the recently fired University of Michigan coach who lost his job over an inappropriate relationship with a staffer in his department. I don’t know him, I don’t know his marriage, and I don’t know what kind of pressure cooker his life was at the time.

Let me be clear up front: I’m not excusing the affair. I think it’s awful. Full stop. But affairs do happen. People make selfish, destructive decisions every day. What truly astonishes me isn’t just that he cheated—it’s that he was willing to risk his marriage, his job, his reputation, and everything he’d built on an affair, and then compound that risk by doing it with someone who worked for him.

This wasn’t a momentary lapse or a drunken bad decision on a work trip. This was reportedly a two-year relationship with someone who was an underling. In his department. At his employer. The same employer that paid him something like $5 million a year and entrusted him with one of the most prestigious jobs in college sports.

That’s not just risking your marriage. That’s risking everything.

If he’d had an affair with a stranger—a Hooter’s waitress, someone he met at a bar, someone entirely outside his workplace—this likely would have remained a personal disaster rather than a professional one. The school might have issued a stiff statement and moved on. Messy? Yes. Fireable? Probably not.

But once you cross into a relationship with an underling, the institution has no real choice. Power imbalance. Workplace liability. Sexual harassment concerns. HR alarms blaring like air-raid sirens. At that point, the university doesn’t merely want to fire you—it has to.

And then there’s the detail that really makes you shake your head: after the relationship ended, she reportedly received a significant raise. Maybe there’s an innocent explanation. Maybe she earned it. Maybe the timing is just unfortunate.

But optics matter. And this looks terrible. It looks like hush money. It looks like an attempt to buy silence. And in situations like this, appearances alone can be career-ending.

So let’s tally it up:

  • A seven-figure salary
  • A top-tier coaching job
  • Years of reputation-building
  • A career that may not recover for a long time, if ever

All gambled away for something that didn’t even need to involve the workplace.

That’s the part I can’t get past. Not the affair itself, but the breathtaking willingness to light a match next to everything you’ve built. It’s not just poor judgment—it’s professional self-immolation.

I don’t feel smug about it. I don’t feel superior. Mostly, I feel baffled. How does someone smart enough to reach that level of success fail to see the most obvious red line imaginable?

Some risks are bad bets.
Some risks are reckless.
And some risks make you wonder if the person ever stopped to ask, “What happens if this blows up?”

Because this one did. Completely.

And for what?

Shaking my head.


Dec 11 2025 2025-12-11 2025-12-11 by Ross

Life Is Better When You Don’t Read the Comments…

Posted in Old Man Yelling at the Sky

I need to tattoo this somewhere on my body. Maybe across my forearm like a reminder from a dystopian YA novel: DON’T READ THE COMMENTS.

Because every time—every time—I read something online and think, “Wow, that was thoughtful,” I make the fatal mistake of scrolling down. And without fail, I find myself staring into the digital equivalent of a septic tank left open during a heatwave.

There’s one legal blog I genuinely enjoy. Smart writing. Interesting cases. Actual insight. And yet, like a raccoon pawing through a dumpster, I inevitably wander into the comment section hoping—truly hoping—to witness intelligent discussion.

Instead, the very first comment is always some version of:
“Well, what do you expect from an idiot like OP?”

Fantastic. The opening serve is ad hominem at 110 mph. No analysis, no engagement, just immediate character assassination. Not even creative character assassination. Just the drive-thru value menu variety.

Then come the whatabouters, scurrying in right on schedule.

“Sure, this case is about municipal regulations, BUT WHAT ABOUT THAT THING THAT HAPPENED IN 1992 IN ALBUQUERQUE???”

Followed by the Trump Injectors, who have a magical ability to connect absolutely anything to the former president. The post could be about contract interpretation, or medieval property law, or a recipe for lemon bars, and someone will still show up like:

“Well, in the age of Trump…”

No. No, sir. We are not discussing the age of anything. We are discussing—checks notes—lemon bars.

And it’s not just legal blogs. Oh no. Wander into any comment section, anywhere, on any topic, and the pattern is identical. You could be reading a harmless nostalgia piece about the 80s sitcom ALF. Just people reminiscing about a wisecracking alien puppet who wanted to eat cats.

And still someone finds a way to post:

“Sure, ALF was a good show, but in the age of Trump you’d be arrested for making it now.”

What? How? Who is arresting whom, for what? Why is Trump lurking behind every pop-culture corner like a jump-scare in a haunted house?

Comment sections are almost always cesspools. And the worst part is: even the good ones rot. Every decent corner of the internet eventually becomes a swamp. It starts out fine—maybe a few polite disagreements, a reference or two to actual facts—and then one day you look down and realize you’re knee-deep in toxicity with a stranger named “ConstitutionalPatriot99” screaming at “WokeSnowflake420” about something entirely unrelated to the original post.

And I always tell myself: Don’t scroll down. Don’t do it. Just enjoy the article and walk away like a normal human being.

But do I listen?

Of course not.
I scroll.
I read.
I regret.
Then I vow never to do it again.

Until the very next day, when I once again convince myself that this time the comment section will be different. This time it will be full of reasoned arguments and thoughtful replies and maybe even a citation to an actual case.

But no. It’s the same hellscape, just wearing a different avatar.

One day I’ll learn.
Or maybe I’ll just get that tattoo.

Life is better when you don’t read the comments.