Around my birthday, I set myself a goal to walk 55 miles over the summer to commemorate my age. I never kept track, but I’m confident between running, biking and walking our dog occasionally I logged way more than 55 miles. Since I didn’t track it officially, my competitive self told me it didn’t count.

This summer, my friend Kathy set herself a goal of riding her bike twenty miles on one ride, and invited me to join her. We’ve taken several rides on the Katy trail and so my trek today was inspired by her. I set myself a goal to ride my bike 55 miles in one day. I chose a solo trek, because I was inspired by a podcast by Bradley Rohlf to take a silent pilgrimage alone.

On his trek, he gave himself a prayer or mantra to think about while traveling. My mantra became “secrets, surprises and setting yourself a goal.” As I rode my bike I mulled over those words in my mind.

Up until this blog post I kept my goal a secret, only letting my husband and mother know my plan. I didn’t tell mom how long the ride was, so she wouldn’t worry about me. Sometimes keeping a secret does benefit others. Les helped me plan the trip. I really appreciated his idea to leave from our house, instead of hauling my bike to the trail.

I surprised myself by leaving around the time I planned, 7:00am. I ate breakfast, but decided to reward myself with a coffee at one of my planned breaks along the route.

I rode through the neighborhood bundled up with a jacket and gloves to stave off the chill of the morning. I decided to ride on the sidewalks to get to my turn by the library. Thankfully most of the trip was along protected pathways.

Part of setting a goal is to break it into doable steps. I knew if I could get to the River Greenway trailhead without incident my confidence would be set for the rest of the day. That section of the route includes riding on a busy street and navigating a major intersection. I took the lane at the light. Confidence was building and I was happy to note that a bike lane had been added along the Rock Road. When I got to the trailhead, I double checked to make sure I was on the correct path and headed towards the 370 Bridge and eventually the Katy trail.

I told myself if I could get the first ten miles under my belt I would be fine. The trail was mostly quiet with the exception of a couple early morning joggers. The weather was fine and I was enjoying the scenery, stopping along the way to take photos.

I always enjoy observing nature, and the trail is a feast for the eyes winding past the river, fields and woods. I made my way to Machens, the Eastern terminus of the trail. I was surprised to meet a couple there. They were riding the whole trail over the next two weeks. It was fun to chat with them. Also was surprised that there is a bathroom at that stop. Good thing because after 15 plus miles I needed the facilities. After that break, I got back on the bike fueled up with an apple and visions of the Bike Stop Cafe in St. Charles for early lunch and coffee.

On this leg of the journey it helped to have a reward in mind and knowing that at St. Charles I would be more than halfway done with my goal. At St. Charles, I texted Les my mileage just short of 30 miles. It’s good to have a coach to keep you motivated towards the goal. He recalculated the next leg of the trip and asked how I was feeling. I felt pretty good, and enjoyed my coffee, some Gatorade and the egg and cheese wrap.

To keep my momentum going I took another bathroom break and was surprised to get some encouragement in the loo.

Twenty five miles to go! It’s no secret that the next phase of my trip could have been bogged down with having a meal, but I reminded myself that I could take it easy and not push myself. I found it comforting to be riding a familiar section of the trail. More people on the trail, but I was able to stay in my pilgrimage state of mind. Keeping my eyes open for natural beauty and my spirit buoyed up by singing songs to myself along the way. I also decorated my bike with “flowers.” I find that doing things that make me happy enhance my ability to stay focused on the goal.

When I hit a certain milestone, I rang my bell. On this trip my bike odometer registered the 400 mile mark. I was surprised that I’ve put that much mileage on it, but I have had it for at least 10-15 years. My sweet husband bought it for me on a family vacation. I had decided not to bring a bike (Les and our boys had theirs along), but then when we got there I wanted to ride the trails with them. While my sister-in-laws chose jewelry for souvenirs, I got a new bike and matching helmet.

Back to the trail and my long ride. At 40.5 miles, I turned around because my coach had calculated that from that point I could ride home and be able to hit the 55 mark. I took a selfie and sent it to Les to celebrate.

You would think at this point I would be either pretty tired or overwhelmed by the last 15 miles. I thank my friend Kathy for all the “training” rides we did this summer that improved my stamina. I had a snack and some Gatorade, and gave myself another mini goal to keep me motivated. My plan was to take it 5 miles at a time. I paused at each 5 miles for a water break or bathroom break as indicated. And signs along the way kept me encouraged.

At fifty miles, I stopped and enjoyed a rest on this bench. A monarch butterfly and two dragonflies cheered me on. Five miles to go, and I was feeling fine. Another principle in goal setting—save the best for last. Most of the trip was flat, and seeing that I was staying so strong, why not take the path with four little hills to ride up to get home. I surprise myself quite a bit, don’t I?

I hit 55 miles as I passed through Creve Coeur lake, and this cute little van celebrated with me. I ended up having almost two more miles to make it home, but I didn’t care, I finished my goal, and then some. I pedaled into my driveway at exactly 3pm. A decent day for a bike ride.

The secret to life? Find new ways to surprise yourself; maybe even set a goal once in awhile.

a weekly series of fiction to enjoy with your bowl of cereal

Igor and Spank by Kel Rohlf

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

Chapter 3

What was I thinking? I should have said we could order pizza. I hate this grill. If Jack were here, he’d have it the right temperature.  Oh, crap, there’s the doorbell. It can’t be 6:30 already. I’m coming.

“Hello everyone!  Come in, dinner’s sort of ready. The chicken is going to have to cook a little longer; I couldn’t get the grill hot enough. Where’s Georgie?”

“Oh, I left him with a sitter,” explained Elena, “very busy, that one.”

“You could have brought him. I would have enjoyed his energy.”

“Perhaps, but, I needed a break,” sighed Elena.

“Igor, why so quiet?” asked Gail.

“I dunno know.”

“He’s missing his papa.”

“Where is he?” inquired Gail.

“Gone.” Igor simply explained.

“Gone where?”

“Never mind,” Elena said, “I’ll tell you later. For now let’s check the chicken.”

“Oh, yes, the chicken, I almost forgot,” Gail said with a frown. “Come this way, the grill is out back. The table is all set and ready, out on the patio.”

Igor went directly to the table and started munching on some carrots from the veggie tray.

“Igor, wait, for our hostess. You’re not being very polite today.”

“It’s fine, let him eat. This is a casual evening. I may have to resort to PBJ sandwiches, if this chicken, doesn’t hurry up. I’m not much of a grill person, my husband, Jack used to do all the grilling.”

Elena’s expression made me think she wanted to ask where he was, but we had already fumbled over the whereabouts of her husband. Maybe she would ask later.  I pulled the lid off the grill, smoke poured out, and then the some flames burst up over the chicken. “Well, now it’s cooking.”

Elena took a seat next to Igor and I invited them to pour lemonade for themselves. Igor told me that he had spent the day at the local water park with a neighbor. Elena had worked a shift at the Custom Clippers that morning.  I cut thru a piece of chicken on the grill and it was done. After we finished eating Elena offered to help clean up, and I sent Igor to play on the swing set in my side yard.

As we rinsed the dishes, and put them in the dishwasher, Elena cleared her throat,  “Um, Gail, if you tell me where your husband is, I’ll tell you where mine went.”

“Oh, Jack, he’s in New York City. We are separated. We were having difficulties. And that’s that.”

“Are you sure? You seemed very upset that day at Dairy Queen. I noticed, you know.”

“I’m just trying to get on with life, Elena, things are getting better. For months, I couldn’t function. I stayed in bed all day and night. I just want my life to get back to normal.”

“Normal? I don’t know what normal is, my dear, but pretending it will go away is no better than hiding from it. I know.”

“How would you know?”

“My husband is gone as well, he is dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t know…”

“Of course, you didn’t know, we’ve just met.”

The screen door slammed as Igor skipped into the kitchen.

“You seem happier,” Gail inquired.

“Yep! That old swing helped me swing my cares away. What are you two doing?”

“What does it look like, Silly?” Elena teased.

“I’m not silly.”

“Yes you are,” Elena said as she grabbed Igor and gave him a tickle hug. Igor squealed with delight.

“I have ice cream cake for dessert! Anyone interested?”

I served up the ice cream cake with some milk for Igor and decaf coffee for me and Elena. “Let’s sit on the porch,” I offered.

Our group settled on the porch. I rocked in my wicker rocker, while Elena and Igor enjoyed the double glider.

“Momma, I was thinking, since we’re eating cake, and this would have been Papa’s birthday, could we sing him a song.”

“I guess so if Gail doesn’t mind.”

“No go right, ahead. What will you sing?”

“It’s a song from our country.”

“Where are you from?”

“We are from Bosnia.”

As Igor sang the lilting melody in his language, tears rolled down both Elena’s face and mine.

“What do the words mean?” I asked.

Elena explained that is was an ancient blessing from the Hebrew people. It goes like this in English,

“The LORD bless you and keep you; The LORD make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; The LORD lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace.”

With a sad smile on her face Elena continued, “I’d like to tell you more about my husband, but my heart is too heavy this time. Soon, Igor returns to school. You will come to our house this time, yes?”

I wiped the tears from my face, “Yes, of course. Let me give you my phone number. Wait here while I get paper and a pen.” Elena smiled at Gail, as she hugged Igor to herself.

Gail returned with the number, and Elena rose to receive the paper, “Come, Igor, we must rescue the babysitter from Georgie.”

“Yes, momma.” Igor replied. He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and whispered, “Good-bye, Igor.”

Elena directed Igor to the street. They rumbled off in their dream car. As I watched them leave, I smiled to myself, humming the new melody.

a weekly series of fiction to enjoy with your bowl of cereal

Igor and Spank by Kel Rohlf

Link to Chapter 1

Chapter 2

            The next time I saw Igor, we were both at Dairy Queen. He was there with his mom and little brother. I had forced myself out of bed that day. I was craving a chocolate dipped cone. I hadn’t had breakfast yet, and since it was almost lunch time I got up. I threw on my navy sweats, and drove to DQ.  Igor recognized me immediately. They were in line when he spotted me pushing the door to enter.

            He ran over and asked, “How are you today?”

            “Fine,” I replied. I fought inside myself, but had to ask, “How’s Spank?”

            “Just fine. He lives with us now. My mom says he was a gift from God.”

            What a face that boy had. It was expressing eagerness, joy, curiosity and innocence all at once. Dark hair bouncing every which way with straight bangs, over his deep brown eyes set perfectly above a cute nose and smiling mouth.

            “Igor,” called his mother. “Who is that? What do you want to eat? Get over here and help Momma with Georgie.” He smiled at me and ran back to her. As I stepped into line behind them, I overheard him whisper, “That’s the lady who helped me look for Spank’s owners,” I smiled nervously at Igor’s mother. She nodded politely, yet with some interest.  I ventured a polite, “Hello.”

            “Hi, I guess you’ve met Igor already, this is my son Georgie.” Georgie looked about two or three. Thumb in mouth, other arm wrapped around his mother’s leg.

            “Nice to meet you, Georgie.” I bent down to his eye level, he looked me in the eye and clung closer to her.

            “Momma,” Igor interrupted, “It’s our turn to order. I want the chicken finger basket.” Igor’s mom placed the order, then turned back to me, “Would you like to join us?”

            “I guess so,” I shrugged.

            They went to get a booth by the play area. As I ordered my ice cream, in my mind I heard my therapist cheering me on, “Go, Gail! Meet new people, get out there.” Walks around the neighborhood, trips to Dairy Queen, having lunch with strangers- would miracles never cease? I stopped by the drink station, picked up some napkins and filled a courtesy cup with water. As I approached their table, I thought I heard Igor whisper to his mother, “This lady seems lonely, momma.”  I hesitated. Igor noticed; he jumped up took my hand which was full of napkins and pulled me into the booth next to him. Igor handled the introductions. “This is my momma! Her name is Elena. What’s yours?”

            “Gail.”

            “Nice to meet you, Gail,” she nodded while helping Georgie dip his french fry in ketchup. “Igor is my little gentleman, isn’t he?”

            I laughed. My ice cream was dripping down my hand, so I gave it my attention. The cool treat satisfied my craving. Lunch was completed in the midst of children’s requests to go play and a mother’s urging to finish lunch first. I just sat quietly and enjoyed their presence while eating my “lunch”. When we all finished eating, Elena sent the boys to play on the indoor playground. Igor patted my hand, after he squeezed past me to get out of the booth, and then chased his brother to the top of one of the slides. Tears brimmed in my eyes. I hadn’t felt the warmth of a child’s touch in months. I tried to gulp back a sob before Elena noticed. She glanced at me, recognizing my pain, then becoming engrossed with a ketchup stain on her blouse. Georgie deposited it there when he was grabbing fries from her earlier. I fiddled with the pile of napkins, took a deep breath, and looked over to watch the boys climbing up the slide the wrong direction. I automatically began to correct them, just like I used to do when Adam was a little boy. “Be careful, Igor, slides are for going down, not up.” He laughed at me and continued his upward quest. Just like Adam. My mind sent out a warning, “No, don’t think about him. You’ll start crying and never be able to stop.”  I was a fool. Why did I think I could leave the house? I’m just not ready yet. I got up abruptly to leave. Elena openly stared at me, but made no motion to stop me. She probably thought I was crazy.

I fumbled with the key in my car’s door. Finally I got in and laid my head on the steering wheel. Too late, now the sobs and tears were coming forth like a dam lock being released.

            Dam lock. Dam store. Dam tour. Joshua would have been making a big deal out of that. He loved to say those phrases because he was swearing without swearing. We all laughed every time, even though it was an old joke. “Oh, Adam and Joshua, please come back. Please, please, please.”

Adam and Joshua had been gone for about two months now. My husband, Jack, took them with him to New York. He was transferred with his job, and under the circumstances it seemed to be for the best. I just couldn’t keep up with the three of them anymore. Jack was traveling extensively. Home on the weekends, but that was just about all. When we got married, we were eager to start a family, so Adam arrived about 11 months after our wedding. On our first anniversary we had a one month old. I was at home with Adam all day. At first I really wanted to be at home full time. I was going to be a fantastic homemaker. Many of my friends had chosen the same, so it wouldn’t be that lonely. We could take walks with the babies or visit over coffee during naptime. I had grand designs of making our house a home. Yet it was lonely. Jack was just starting out with the airlines. So, he had the worst schedule. Just like he still has and I’m still lonely. Wouldn’t this ever stop? I thought life was going to be full of romance and adventure, even if I had to create it. But life just never seemed to cooperate. My mind wandered back to Igor. Why did Igor get to keep Spank? That didn’t seem like the way life usually works out. He was supposed to be disappointed and heart broken, just like I have been over and over again.

Sirens wailing past the Dairy Queen broke in on my reflections. I started the car and drove home. As I pulled into the garage, visions of burrowing under my comforter called to me. That’s exactly what I will do. I will climb into bed, cover my head and rest from all this crying. Sleep always helps. I guess.

“Jack, is that you? Wait, don’t leave, I’m stuck in the covers… Jack, Help me! Help me! I can’t get out of bed.”  I hate that dream. I’m stuck under the covers and Jack leaves before I can talk to him. I better tell my therapist about it. She’ll probably tell me that I just miss him or something lame like that. At least I’m up now. The alarm clock is flashing 12:00. The power must have surged while I was sleeping. I look at my watch. It reads 8:00am. I must have slept all afternoon and through the night. Time to make some coffee. I always feel much better after my first cup of coffee.

Today is a fresh day, the sun is shining, I’ll have my coffee, take a shower and call my boys. I can shake the dream off.  The dream always ends the same way where I can’t get out of bed, but this time the whole dream seemed so real. I was in Central Park having a picnic with Jack and the boys. We were all laughing and they were telling me how great it was to have me with them, “We wish you had come from the start. Why didn’t you?”

 Just as I am reveling in their adoration, a flying Chinese dragon, like the ones in Chinese New Year’s parades comes swooping out of the sky and carries me away. Then at the end I am back in bed struggling to get out of bed.

Igor would get a kick out of that dream. I just hope he doesn’t have any dreams about me because they might come true. At least the one he had about the dog came true, but that was just a coincidence. Maybe I could invite him and his mother over some time.

The coffee pot whistled. I poured the steaming water into my mug of French Vanilla flavored instant coffee. As I sat outside on the porch enjoying the warmth of the morning sun, a car rumbled around the corner. It looked just like the 1969 Dodge Charger that Igor and I talked about, and his mother was in the driver’s seat. Igor sat in the passenger seat and Spank leaned his head out the backseat window to catch the breeze. I waved, jumping out of my seat and hollered, “Hey, Igor!”

Amazingly, Elena stopped the car at the corner just past my house. Now they must really think I’m crazy. A little out of breath I made it to the car, and let Spank lick my hand. “Hi, Gail”, they both chimed. “Where did you get this car?” I asked.

“It was given to us by the neighbors up the street,” Elena explained, “they were moving overseas and couldn’t take it with them?”

“Really, that’s interesting. How nice of them.”

“Yeah,” Igor agreed, “and I dreamt it would happen, too!”

“No way,” I teased. Igor laughed. “Hey, I’m glad I saw you. I was wondering if, uh…”

“What? What?” Igor asked as he bounced out the car window towards me.

“Can you guys, come over for dinner sometime?” There I had asked. What will they think?

“That would be nice,” Elena replied, “We would like that. When is good for you?”

“Um, how about, let’s see, today is Tuesday- how about Friday at 6:30pm?”

“That’s fine, right Igor?”

“Yipee! Yes, momma.”

“I’ll make grilled chicken, OK?”

“Wonderful, thanks again for inviting us. We don’t have many friends here yet,” Elena explained as she tousled Igor’s hair.

“Bye!” they called as the car rumbled off.

I caught myself smiling again. Back to my coffee and the porch, and planning a menu.

One of my dreams for a long time has been to write a novel. Or at least a short story or two. I have some short stories in my file and the beginnings of a few novel ideas. Instead of waiting any longer to be discovered, I plan to post a weekly series publishing fictitious plots and characters aplenty.

The first installment is a story about a boy and his dog. I started writing this story in 2004, and the last time I looked at it was 2016. Enjoy the first chapter of Igor and Spank by Kel Rohlf.

“If there arise among you a prophet, or a dreamer of dreams, and giveth thee a sign or a wonder, and the sign or the wonder come to pass….” (Deuteronomy 13:1,2a KJV)

Chapter 1

            My therapist tells me that it’s good for me to get out of the house more often. I don’t disagree, but it’s just that I’d rather stay in bed with the blinds closed. But to appease my therapist, I took up walking the neighborhood. On my afternoon walk, I noticed a boy roaming the neighborhood with a young black lab tied to a piece of clothesline rope. He waved me down and asked if I had lost a dog. I assured him that I had not lost a dog. The boy informed me that he had been door to door on his street and several others. No one claimed the dog.  I patted the dog on its head; quite friendly wagging its tail.

            “I call the dog, Spank,” the boy explained. I could tell he was already much attached to this particular dog, and felt a twinge of pain that the boy who found a lost dog would soon be at a loss without the dog. I looked away making some excuse about having to get on with my walk. The boy invited himself to join me. That made me nervous. I asked if his mother would mind. Oh no, he was fine. His mom was at work and her boyfriend was home. We walked around the corner with Spank in tow.

            “What’s your name?” I asked.

            “Igor.”

            “Hmm,” I thought to myself who would give such a name to a child?

            “I can spell it. I-g-o-r.”

            “Very good.”

            “I can spell Spank, too,” he added eagerly, “S-P-A-C-K.”

I started to correct him, then just grinned and asked about his plans for school this coming fall. He told me he was going into third grade at a private school nearby, not the public school in our neighborhood. We were getting further up the hill, when Igor stopped in his tracks and pointed me toward the other side of the street.

            “Look at that car! It’s a 1969 Dodge Charger! It’s my mom’s dream car!”

            “Really.”

            “You know what?”

            “What?”

            “My mom’s boyfriend said I could get a cat since we moved into our own house now, but I really like black dogs. You know what, last night I had a dream that I’d find a black dog, just like Spank, and I would take him on a walk with a white clothesline. And it happened. Just like I dreamed.” He grinned first at the dog and then at me.

            I shuddered inside. How could you tell a boy that although this dream came true, that most likely the dog’s owner would show up? Or his mom’s boyfriend was lying about pets and houses. Classic case of being set up for disappointment.

            “Look, Igor… I, uh… better let you get back home, my house is on the other side of the neighborhood. I don’t think you should take Spank that far from home.”

            “Yeah, you’re probably right. Nice to meet you.” Boy and dog trotted off to other adventures.

            For the rest of the day and week, Igor and Spank invaded my thoughts.  The next time I was heading out of the neighborhood in my car, I took a detour past their house. No Spank in sight, just Igor in a red cape on his bike riding around with a friend. He had already forgotten about me and Spank.

Why do you always forget us?
Why do you forsake us so long?

Lamentations 5:20 NIV

Why is a rich word with various uses and meanings. It compels is to ask, to understand, to seek explanation, to delve into mysteries and express surprise. It drives us to uncover secrets and express hesitation, to dig into baffling problems and express approval or disapproval. (Such as the question: Why did you do this or that?) Why helps us name enigmas or express impatience, always wanting more details, more openness, more—there is always more to know or to solve.

Why is a useful question, but also can put us on the defensive. Why are you questioning my motive is the stance I often take when someone poses the why question.

Recently in my journal keeping class, I offered myself and my student, this series of questions:

How am I?

When am I?

Where am I?

What am I?

Who am I?

Why am I?

An interesting exercise, and I left why for last because I thought it would be most difficult to answer. I jotted answers to each one; more of a list than long narrative answers.

Here’s some highlights from my answers in order of the list above: I am okay, up and down, struggling. I am 2020, August, 55 years old, COVID-19. I am in my house, St. Louis, on zoom. I am tired, creative, a woman, an artist and writer, weary, word lover and inspirational. I am Kel Rohlf, “lily,” friend, child, loved, cherished, respected, cared for and sought out. And then it was time to answer: Why am I?

And the recurring answer was “to be” or “because” this or that. I am because GOD thought of and created me. I am here for a reason. I have purpose in my various roles. The answer to why is often because. Maybe next time we will use the prompt: “I am because…” and see what mysteries are revealed.

I invite you to set aside some time to look up the definition of why for yourself. It’s a rich word. If you like to journal, ask your self the above questions and possibly uncover some secrets about YOU.