Saturday Ride Holmdel Park, fitness trail, and the death of my childhood.

Gunner man:
Friday brought the rain and thunderstorms, but it did not stop me from getting in a quick 6 miler to try and learn to ride with the weather instead of against it. 500 push-ups before bed, and a good nights rest in anticipation of killing my legs on the roads of Holmdel. Conspicuously absent from today's ride, Giggs.

There are some things I will always identify with my childhood and growing up in Monmouth County. Some of them are people: Mike the Barber, the guy who owned the shoes store near the Little Silver train tracks, or the old lady with the beehive who used to sit in the first pew at mass. Others are places, such as Dairy Queen in Lincroft and how we used to go after wins in Little League, the Eatontown Roller Rink, the CECOM building in Tinton Falls and how my father used to take us there when we were 15 to teach us how to drive. Unfortunately, few of the places and people still remain. Mike is still cutting hair next to his smart mouthed and surly coworkers, the shop still a testament to community, trust, friendship, and Monmouth County. Dairy Queen will always be a staple of Lincroft and Little League. Most of these things, however, are gone. The shoe store is long gone replaced by a pet store, the old lady with the beehive has probably since passed away, and the roller rink was closed in 2005 and then collapsed in 2009. CECOM was abandoned, and as Tinton Falls argued and debated over what to do with the acres of land, the entire structure became an eye sore for the community. Though, in a weird way, it always reminded me of home. Last month, construction crews began to tear down CECOM to make way for an age restricted community.

However, one place that will always remind me of the wonder of youth and childhood was the wooden playground in Holmdel park. This playground hidden in the woods, and made entirely of a dark, dreary wood, was an young child's fantasy come true. This playground with its hideouts, creaky bridges, miniature back hoes, gigantic metal slides, and 20 foot drops, was always crowded with children dreaming up new adventures. Countless hours of my youth were spent on that playground imagining I was Indiana Jones, or trying to dig through to China with the backhoe. There was nothing safe about this playground. Hell, there wasn't even anything inviting about this playground. The kids knew it, the parents knew it, and the park system knew it. But, it was a different time back in the 80's and early 90's. A time when our playgrounds were built to capture a child's imagination. To let them run around, scrap their knees and cut up their arms, and to enjoy the wonders of life. A time before we started handing out participation trophies, and no young child was able to fail. In essence, it was a time before the "Parents of America" (POA) softened this country with the coddling and over protection, and stopped allowing kids to enjoy their youth while still being able to grow and mature.

Why does any of this matter? Because today, on the bike ride through the hills of Holmdel we stopped at Holmdel Park to run the fitness trail. The first thing I notice as I am walking up the first hill towards the bowl is that the playground I once knew and loved, the playground of my youth, had been replaced by a colorful, padded, and inviting monstrosity. The type of playground that doesn't allow children to fall and get hurt (or cry) or test their imagination. A playground most likely funded by the POA.

Through the years, little pieces of my childhood have disappeared, and I always thought the wood playground of my youth would remain. As we finished our trail run and biked through the back hills of Holmdel, I could not help but think about the thousands of kids who had missed out on a playground that was so menacing, yet at the same time, so brilliant. Hey, at least we still got Mike and Dairy Queen.