My Blog

The following true story happened just before Christmas this year. At the request of several friends, it’s making an apperance this spring.

–

Dearest Friends,

Just before the holidays I had a profound experience that I wanted to share with all of you. As many of you know, I am a strong believer that there with so many different energies around us we have to be open to receiving all the good, bad and craziness in the world.

Mark this down in column three.

Recovering from a disappointing late Fall Spin class, I decided to vent the failures of the early morning by taking a few moments in the sauna. With my water bottle half full, clothed in a towel, I sat on the pine bleacher-style seat and enjoyed a relaxing beginning to an otherwise normal Tuesday.

Twenty minutes into my retreat, my water bottle was drained -typically, this is when I usually retire to the showers and begin my standard morning routine.

Not today.

Two visitors joined me. The fist was an Italian gentleman, wearing a track suit. The other, in similar attire, joining him, was R. Kelly. The first question that comes to mind when encountering a celebrity in an au natural setting is, “how big are his balls?” Mr. Kelly’s balls where nowhere to be seen, buried under a layer of NBA warm-up gear, sneakers, and I think a turtleneck.

For those of you who may not be familiar with R. Kelly, one of the finest R&B artists/child rapists of our time. Here is a link to his bio:

http://launch.yahoo.com/artist/artistFocus.asp?artistID=1014120

Let’s pause for a moment. It’s 7:00 a.m., almost 160 degrees - no odds-maker could have predicted this pairing.

Another member of his entourage entered, this time wearing camouflage pants and a hooded sweatshirt, carrying a small cooler of Gatorade. I looked out the window on the sauna door and another staff-member, this a sentry, wore a full parka with fur hood.

After a brief exchange including: “Where is it,” “It’s on the bus,” and “Well, go get it.” we were once again left alone. What “it” was or why “it” was so important is left to the ages.

Deciding that I had to unpurse my lip, lest the opportunity escape, I remarked, “I feel under dressed.” A cheerful observation on my obvious nakedness and their clothedness.

R. KELLY: Man, really? I’m cold in here, I’m trying to get a blanket or something.

HUH?

R. KELLY: This is how we do it.

TRAINER: If you’re here to just exfoliate you do it like you’re doing it. But if you’re here to lose a few pounds, this is how we do it.

R. KELLY: This is how we do it.

R. KELLY & TRAINER: This is how we do it.

R. KELLY: This, I don’t even feel nothing.

Taking a sip of his chilled Gatorade, he then pulled up the leg of his warm-up pants to show an under-layer that resembled a garbage bag with the NBA logo on it. Something to really seal in the heat.

At this point I make a conscious note that I am out of water.

This is not an excuse for the following comment.

ME: You’re all wrapped up like a Turkey.

Then there was silence. I thought to myself, “what does turkey mean? Is it slang for ‘you’re a rapist,’ or ‘please, sexually assault me in the sauna?’”

At this moment, the clouds part and I am met with a moment of clarity. I realize that I am white, naked and have zero street-cred.

They laugh and nod in true Trainer/R.Kelly rhetoric - whether or not it’s in reference to my comment is between them. R. Kelly and his Trainer have a very intimate grammar, with neither actually needing to finish sentences, although the other clearly knows the intent.

I closed my eyes, rapidly approaching the thirty minute mark. Should I stay? Should I go? When else will I have an opportunity to spend with one of the world’s top-selling recording artists. This was a man who urinated on a 14-year-old in a Chicago McDonalds, then followed up with one of the most amazing albums the world had ever heard.

The silence broke again as a rather large, naked, accountant entered. Taking one look at the pastoral he commented, “Man, it’s hot in here,” and promptly left.

R. KELLY: What does that fool think? It’s gonna be cool in here?

TRAINER: It ain’t cool in here.

I nodded in agreement. I also started to see spots. Most importantly I try to look cool as I eavesdrop, redistributing my body’s precious (and rapidly evaporating) sweat over my burning flesh.

They discuss wake up time in the morning and how the trainer will be there right when he wakes up. Very paternal, indeed. And then there was something about a night shift that neither understood very well.

Finally, knowing my limits I got off of the soaked pine bench and made my way to the door. I nodded and dropped a “have a good one, guys,” on my way out and was met with reciprocity.

The cool air calmed my screaming nerves, glad to be out of the pressure cooker. As I showered, dried off and put on my non-NBA-issue sneakers, I welcomed the return to reality.

Until we meet again Mr. Kelly. Until we meet again.

–end–

The birthday has come and gone, thankfully without a hitch or too-startling surprises.

Here’s what’s on the good-stress list.

The first (that I know of) improvised show on bicycles will open in less than two weeks.

Titled SWEAT, it will run at Donny’s Skybox Theater at Piper’s Alley. The 4th floor to be exact. I’ll have the pleasure of performing with my very close friend Meridith Crosley. She’s a fantastic performer and a great cyclist. It’s an interesting experiment and test the physical limits of performance. As if 35-45 minutes onstage wasn’t exciting enough, our heart rates should be pushing higher and higher.

Thursdays @ 10:30p - March 31 - May 5.

I did a little test just to see what the calorie burn was. At a pace that’s condusive to speaking loud enough on stage, it’s just about 500 calories/hr.

If you’re in Chicago and you can make it, this should definitely be an experience.

Happy Friday and have a great weekend.

It is the evening before my birthday.

The apartment is quiet right now, the clock teetotalling towards 10:00 p.m. There’s no more work on the plate for tonight, and there are very few things that are screaming “fix me,” or “start this immediately.” There’s nothing to procrastinate, and nothing more to prognosticate. Just the gentle humming of the refrigerator and the white noise seeping in from the busy street by the lake, just one story below.

When I put my feet down on the floor tomorrow morning, there will be more notch on the perennial doorpost. Can’t wait to mark it with a sharpie.

Tonight I talked to a dear friend from college - one who is able to express unflinchingly honest thoughts about all things important. He is in Madison, studying to be my personal attorney (or so I hope).

He is also getting married over the summer, to a terrific girl that I think is perfect for him; and vice versa.

As for the bachelor party, which I am (thankfully) in charge of - he has no idea what a excitement is being planned.

Seriously.

A Friday night at work, wrapping up what has been a crazy week of old projects and new projects and more projects to come. The good news is that the work is great, never been better. The bad news is minimal in comparison.

My professional goals are more clear in my mind than ever before. Now I just have to figure out how to get my friends involved with these projects, too. I was able to get a very close friend of mine an audition this week, which is a step in the right direction.

What else can I say? There is a lot on my mind - most of it makes me smile.

Training is going great, sliding into the pre-season with precision. Getting used to being on the bike again. My body remembers how it feels to shift into a gear that makes my leg ache, pushing a cadence to the point where my shoes are a flashing blur. My cycling computer tells me that my max speed was over 25 miles per hour.

Any thoughts on how to move those wheels faster? I will gladly take any suggestions.

It is nine days until my birthday; in fifty-three minutes it will be eight. Am I excited? Moderately.

The day always creeps up on me, startling me from behind or quiely sitting in an easy chair waiting for me to enter the living room.

The clock is just rounding 10:30p and I am still brimming back and forth between two computer screens, trying impatiently to speed the number of Xs on my DVD burner. It mocks me captively, as if to say, “I know how long it will take to render these thumbnail sheets.”

No workout today, plenty of eating.

Tomorrow’s plan includes an a.m. rise. Quick Powerbar. Another 55 minute shoot on the fluid trainer, then a shower and an evaluation of several DVDs. Off to rehearsal sometime in the late afternoon.

Maybe some photos will show up. We’ll see. On the to do list: postcard/poster, laundry, some cleaning, dishes and prep for next week’s pressure cooker.

If you’re reading this, I would welcome your thoughts on a new hairstyle for me.