In truth, I care very much...about just about everything in my life, and probably yours. But that little expression is one of my guilty pleasures.
Secretly, I love it. I'm not sure why, since it is pretty far outside of the way I talk. But every single time someone prefaces a statement with that little gem, I feel an uncontrollable giggle start in my diaphragm, up up up until it escapes out my lips, thereby kind of ruining the moment, whatever it is.
I mean, what does that mean anyway? Who came up with that expression? Maybe it's funny simply in its randomness. Why does it have to be a RAT?
I especially love it when my sister Rebecca says it, because she adds in these little descriptive snacks, like, "I don't give a TINY rat's ass..." And when we are on the phone, even in the midst of whatever she's complaining about, I can literally HEAR the corners of her mouth turning upward as she says the words, which shows they amuse her as much as they amuse me.
It's kind of dangerous, though. A friend of mine in Kemmerer got a little religious/political with it, saying, "I don't give a Mormon rat's ass". Thanks -- you know who you are. Now we're all going to Hell.
But the thing is, I can't really adopt it because it just doesn't sound natural when I say it, like I'm trying too hard. Wyoming may have roughened my soft edges a little, but there's a limit to what I can embody without sounding affected.
Maybe if I were to practice.... In my house, in my kitchen, in my office, in my car, well, not at church, but just about everywhere else, so that when I get done with this 323 mile bike ride, I could come home and preface almost every conversation with, "I don't give a rat's ass about ________________________ (fill in the blank)!!!!! I just finished 323 miles on a bike in 6 days. That's right. Not a TINY rat's ass.
Do you think I'm overestimating the satisfaction I'll get from it? You do? Yeah? Well, I don't give a .... nope, still not there for me.
In truth, the ONLY thing coming out of my mouth when I finish will be thank you....God......thank you.....blog........thank you.......loved ones....
(Unless I don't give a.......). Ok, ok...it does lose its funniness if overused.
Nite, blog.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Investment in Life
Gosh, it is getting so close now. Three weeks to go. I find myself shifting from the long-term, general training to trying to work out all the logistics -- what equipment I still need, booking motel rooms, figuring out what to pack, wanting to practice with panniers and gear on the bike, etc. Adam and I are perusing all kinds of internet sites looking for everything from a rain-proof jacket to energy gummy snacks. I've been searching map sites, trying to find some good cycling maps to print out for my handlebar map and phone case (that I also still have to get...)
It's a little overwhelming. To that point, I was driving my friend's daughter, Braelyn, home the other day, and was asking her if she would rather come to the Event Center and work on a craft instead. "No," she said, "I think I am just going to go home." I asked what she was going to do once she got there. "Maybe play with my babies and watch a movie. And I'm going to talk to Miley (their shih tzu) about my feelings, because I have a lot of feelings today!"
I feel ya, Braelyn! I have a lot of feelings, too! I'm excited, nervous, determined, afraid, proud, worried, restless, apprehensive and everything in-between.
But one cool thing, when we take Aislynn down to Salt Lake to do school shopping next week, it will be like school shopping for me, too, but for the School of Long Distance Cycling. Have you ever tried a new sport or activity where you needed to buy new clothes and gear? I always love that feeling of being "official" once I make those purchases... like a Real Athlete. I'm looking forward to that piece.
I was lamenting to my stepmom, Sandy, about the cost of cycling as a hobby. Soooo expensive. She didn't miss a beat. "Sweetheart, you need to look at this as a wonderful investment in you. Look at what you are accomplishing and how you are feeling. This is money toward an active and fulfilling life." Love her. Spot on.
So, for now I will plan, strategize and keep getting on the bike. And get some shopping in, too -- hoorah! One step at a time.
Thanks, blog.
It's a little overwhelming. To that point, I was driving my friend's daughter, Braelyn, home the other day, and was asking her if she would rather come to the Event Center and work on a craft instead. "No," she said, "I think I am just going to go home." I asked what she was going to do once she got there. "Maybe play with my babies and watch a movie. And I'm going to talk to Miley (their shih tzu) about my feelings, because I have a lot of feelings today!"
I feel ya, Braelyn! I have a lot of feelings, too! I'm excited, nervous, determined, afraid, proud, worried, restless, apprehensive and everything in-between.
But one cool thing, when we take Aislynn down to Salt Lake to do school shopping next week, it will be like school shopping for me, too, but for the School of Long Distance Cycling. Have you ever tried a new sport or activity where you needed to buy new clothes and gear? I always love that feeling of being "official" once I make those purchases... like a Real Athlete. I'm looking forward to that piece.
I was lamenting to my stepmom, Sandy, about the cost of cycling as a hobby. Soooo expensive. She didn't miss a beat. "Sweetheart, you need to look at this as a wonderful investment in you. Look at what you are accomplishing and how you are feeling. This is money toward an active and fulfilling life." Love her. Spot on.
So, for now I will plan, strategize and keep getting on the bike. And get some shopping in, too -- hoorah! One step at a time.
Thanks, blog.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Oh Yes I AM!!!!!
I had lunch yesterday with my friend, Mark -- a rare treat these days in between the activities and responsibilities of our professional and private lives. We had "cause"... Mark is an integral help in planning and executing the Kemmerer leg of the International Pedigree Stage Stop Sled Dog Race, and planning is already underway for the 2014 race.
As the city's Cultural Arts and Events Director, I was asked to "bring the sled dog race" back to Kemmerer. Until that time, the only sled dogs I'd seen in my entire life were Mark and Doris' eight rascals, and our entire relationship consists of them putting their noses up my skirt and me squealing, jumping back and pushing them away. That lasts exactly as long as it takes the pack to realize that our little Charly -- our seven-pound Pomapoo-- is with us. Then the rest of the visit is all about the Hunt. (One guess as to who is the "hunted".)
Anyway, suffice to say I was bumbling my way through the race preparations last year until I got Mark's guidance, communication and hard work.
I saw Mark and Doris last night at the City picnic, too. Mark has been extremely supportive of my cycling journey. I told them about explaining to a Councilman with great enthusiasm the bike ride I am doing next month, only to have the Councilman give me a skeptical once over. Down, down, down went his eyes, and then up, up, up they came, followed by an uncomfortably-long pause. "You think I am too chubby to do this.." I said for him.
"Oh no... no.. I mean, I would be too chubby to do it," he said, patting his stomach. Nice save. This man has a body fat percentage of about 10. My friends were laughing as I recounted the awkwardness. Another friend of mine, Natasia, jumped in about my cute little helmet that she sees all over the city as I ride. "You're just sooo safe, with your little helmet and your little gloves...." Uh huh...Wait til she sees the fluorescent orange and green vest my sweet friend Nancy just brought me. Even Adam teased that I am probably a little too worried about being seen by motorists. (Is that another fat joke??)
Anyway, I took it all with good nature because I feel so good about what I have accomplished and where I am now. And my reward was at the end of the lunch when Mark said, "I just can't get over how much better you look now than when you first got here. Not just the weight you've lost, but everything. You look healthier. You sound better. It's everything."
(What's not to love about a friend like that??)
So, okay world, I may look silly in my biking gear, and spandex just may not be my best style... but I...AM....DOING...IT. And you know why?
....because I can.
Thanks, blog.
As the city's Cultural Arts and Events Director, I was asked to "bring the sled dog race" back to Kemmerer. Until that time, the only sled dogs I'd seen in my entire life were Mark and Doris' eight rascals, and our entire relationship consists of them putting their noses up my skirt and me squealing, jumping back and pushing them away. That lasts exactly as long as it takes the pack to realize that our little Charly -- our seven-pound Pomapoo-- is with us. Then the rest of the visit is all about the Hunt. (One guess as to who is the "hunted".)
Anyway, suffice to say I was bumbling my way through the race preparations last year until I got Mark's guidance, communication and hard work.
I saw Mark and Doris last night at the City picnic, too. Mark has been extremely supportive of my cycling journey. I told them about explaining to a Councilman with great enthusiasm the bike ride I am doing next month, only to have the Councilman give me a skeptical once over. Down, down, down went his eyes, and then up, up, up they came, followed by an uncomfortably-long pause. "You think I am too chubby to do this.." I said for him.
"Oh no... no.. I mean, I would be too chubby to do it," he said, patting his stomach. Nice save. This man has a body fat percentage of about 10. My friends were laughing as I recounted the awkwardness. Another friend of mine, Natasia, jumped in about my cute little helmet that she sees all over the city as I ride. "You're just sooo safe, with your little helmet and your little gloves...." Uh huh...Wait til she sees the fluorescent orange and green vest my sweet friend Nancy just brought me. Even Adam teased that I am probably a little too worried about being seen by motorists. (Is that another fat joke??)
Anyway, I took it all with good nature because I feel so good about what I have accomplished and where I am now. And my reward was at the end of the lunch when Mark said, "I just can't get over how much better you look now than when you first got here. Not just the weight you've lost, but everything. You look healthier. You sound better. It's everything."
(What's not to love about a friend like that??)
So, okay world, I may look silly in my biking gear, and spandex just may not be my best style... but I...AM....DOING...IT. And you know why?
....because I can.
Thanks, blog.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Sometimes I just wish I could curse.
Stupid wind. 11 miles in a strong, Wyoming headwind is a long, arduous, depressing process that does not exactly ingratiate one to the joys of cycling.
Despite the fact that I felt good about my 44 mile weekend, I feel kind of pissy about riding at the moment. So... in no particular order...
Weather.com, for two days now you have insisted that the wind was coming WSW at 10 mph, when I can ASSURE you that it was, in fact blowing from the WNW at 25 mph... enough to exhaust me and make for two white-knuckled, tough rides. I'm not sure who your meteorologist is, but I would like some input before you nominate him/her for the accuracy award this year. Here's a tip. Get on a bike for ten minutes and you'll know exactly what the weather is doing.
And let me just say to the truck driver who inexplicably thought it was cool to come up behind me at 70 mph and honk your obnoxious foghorn just as you passed, YOU SUCK. Maybe you're not aware of the fact that it is hella scary riding on a highway shoulder to begin with, and that your blankety-blank 18 wheeler causes enough wind as you pass to make my bike jump sideways in your wake, or maybe you're just a jerk. In any case, it was NOT appreciated, and if the wind hadn't been wreaking its havoc, I would have written down the number on your "How's my driving" bumper sticker and given whoever had the bad misfortune of answering my call an earful.
Finally, hey Utah driver of the Kia Sorento heading southbound on 189 around 3:20 pm, would it really kill you to give three feet of space to cyclists just to be on the safe side? I realize I am riding on the shoulder rather than in the road, but you were still cutting it pretty close there. YOU ARE BIGGER THAN ME, and I think I am correct in saying that clipping a cyclist and killing or maiming said cyclist would adversely affect the rest of your life.
(All that being said, I want to extend a sincere thank you to the driver of the pick-up truck who slowed down and rolled down a window to check on me when I had pulled into the rest area to check my gears yesterday. I have found the majority of motorists to be courteous and friendly on the road, which is especially comforting for us "novice" riders.)
Kay. 'Nuff said. Thanks, blog. Tomorrow will be better, I promise.
Despite the fact that I felt good about my 44 mile weekend, I feel kind of pissy about riding at the moment. So... in no particular order...
Weather.com, for two days now you have insisted that the wind was coming WSW at 10 mph, when I can ASSURE you that it was, in fact blowing from the WNW at 25 mph... enough to exhaust me and make for two white-knuckled, tough rides. I'm not sure who your meteorologist is, but I would like some input before you nominate him/her for the accuracy award this year. Here's a tip. Get on a bike for ten minutes and you'll know exactly what the weather is doing.
And let me just say to the truck driver who inexplicably thought it was cool to come up behind me at 70 mph and honk your obnoxious foghorn just as you passed, YOU SUCK. Maybe you're not aware of the fact that it is hella scary riding on a highway shoulder to begin with, and that your blankety-blank 18 wheeler causes enough wind as you pass to make my bike jump sideways in your wake, or maybe you're just a jerk. In any case, it was NOT appreciated, and if the wind hadn't been wreaking its havoc, I would have written down the number on your "How's my driving" bumper sticker and given whoever had the bad misfortune of answering my call an earful.
Finally, hey Utah driver of the Kia Sorento heading southbound on 189 around 3:20 pm, would it really kill you to give three feet of space to cyclists just to be on the safe side? I realize I am riding on the shoulder rather than in the road, but you were still cutting it pretty close there. YOU ARE BIGGER THAN ME, and I think I am correct in saying that clipping a cyclist and killing or maiming said cyclist would adversely affect the rest of your life.
(All that being said, I want to extend a sincere thank you to the driver of the pick-up truck who slowed down and rolled down a window to check on me when I had pulled into the rest area to check my gears yesterday. I have found the majority of motorists to be courteous and friendly on the road, which is especially comforting for us "novice" riders.)
Kay. 'Nuff said. Thanks, blog. Tomorrow will be better, I promise.
A Little Bit of Everything
The title of this blog entry is also the title of a song by Dawes. It caught my attention the first time I heard it because the middle verse talks about a man standing in a buffet line trying to make up for everything missing in his life through the food he orders:
"I want a little bit of everything,
The biscuits and the beans,
Whatever helps me to forget about
The things that brought me to my knees,
So pile on those mashed potatoes,
And an extra chicken wing,
I'm having a little bit of everything."
Man, can I relate to that (except for the extra chicken wing.. I have always found them gross.) Food is such a complicated thing. Fred and I were talking about food addiction, nutrition, health, emotional eating -- all of it -- when we were on the 30 mile ride in Grand Junction. It was an intense conversation, and an awkward one for me. I mean, as proud as I am of the work I have done with my body and spirit, the question that still hangs in the air like LA smog is, how could I let myself get to 350 pounds to begin with? How could I have done that to my own body? My own emotions? And let's face it: I still have a ways to go and still struggle daily with food issues (or demons, as I sometimes think of them.)
Not an easy conversation to have with anyone who has always been fit and has never had a weight or eating problem. How to explain to an always slim, always active 70-year-old the craziness of trying to eat your way un-unhappy, unbored, unlonely, unstressed, un-everything, when the eating itself is causing you to be unhealthy, unhappy, inactive, lonely and stressed?
Really, it's no different than trying to self-medicate with cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol, heroine, etc. Well, actually, there is one huge difference. One can resolve to never again touch any of the items in the above list, but one cannot decide never to eat again. A food addiction cannot be avoided... it must be managed, and I think that may make it harder to overcome than the others.
So, I guess I am managing it better now than I was three, five, ten years ago. But I would sure like to get to a place where it's not an everyday struggle... I would sure like to take the time and energy I expend thinking about, worrying about, micromanaging food and put it to more important, productive, creative things in my life. I have to believe I will get there one day.
"I want a little bit of everything,
The biscuits and the beans,
Whatever helps me to forget about
The things that brought me to my knees,
So pile on those mashed potatoes,
And an extra chicken wing,
I'm having a little bit of everything."
Man, can I relate to that (except for the extra chicken wing.. I have always found them gross.) Food is such a complicated thing. Fred and I were talking about food addiction, nutrition, health, emotional eating -- all of it -- when we were on the 30 mile ride in Grand Junction. It was an intense conversation, and an awkward one for me. I mean, as proud as I am of the work I have done with my body and spirit, the question that still hangs in the air like LA smog is, how could I let myself get to 350 pounds to begin with? How could I have done that to my own body? My own emotions? And let's face it: I still have a ways to go and still struggle daily with food issues (or demons, as I sometimes think of them.)
Not an easy conversation to have with anyone who has always been fit and has never had a weight or eating problem. How to explain to an always slim, always active 70-year-old the craziness of trying to eat your way un-unhappy, unbored, unlonely, unstressed, un-everything, when the eating itself is causing you to be unhealthy, unhappy, inactive, lonely and stressed?
Really, it's no different than trying to self-medicate with cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol, heroine, etc. Well, actually, there is one huge difference. One can resolve to never again touch any of the items in the above list, but one cannot decide never to eat again. A food addiction cannot be avoided... it must be managed, and I think that may make it harder to overcome than the others.
So, I guess I am managing it better now than I was three, five, ten years ago. But I would sure like to get to a place where it's not an everyday struggle... I would sure like to take the time and energy I expend thinking about, worrying about, micromanaging food and put it to more important, productive, creative things in my life. I have to believe I will get there one day.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Easy Peasy
That was my 30-mile ride today. Easy Peasy Southern Breezy (as my daughter used to say before she got too cool.) I rode from the southwestern end of State Highway 28 to Farson, WY, which not-so-coincidentally is the "Home of the Big Cone". I mean, really, what's not to love about ice cream at the end of two hours of cycling?
Anyway, if you would have told me two months ago that I would be breezing through a 30-mile ride with energy (if not sit bones) to spare, I would have said you were "outta yer mind." And yet, voila, here we are and OH YES I DID.
Adam and Aislynn dropped me off at the start of the route and then drove on to Farson, had a little lunch and started on their own bikes the opposite direction on 28 toward me. I felt crazy good about the fact that when I met up with them I had 24 miles under my belt. I felt even better about the fact that Adam and Aislynn both rode 12 miles (6 to me and 6 with me back to Farson), which means we were out there getting active together, as a family. Whoo hoo!
The ride is mostly a view of sagebrush with the Wind River Range (I think) off in the distance. But I did get close enough to an antelope to cough a little on his dust when he finally leaped away from me. That probably puts me in a pretty small percentage of riders. (In Cody I got similarly close to a golden eagle. Isn't it incredible that these are commonplace views out here??? That's the glory in the Wild, Wild, West.)
I felt sufficiently good today to begin visualizing that final ride across the bridge to Astoria, Oregon in September. I thought I about how I will feel and what it will mean to this journey and to my life as I move forward. I guess some people would call that counting chickens, but I think it's important to imagine that moment so that it becomes cemented in my mind's eye as not only a goal, but something that can and will be accomplished.
I'm feeling so thankful for and inspired by the people in my life who have taken interest in this "project". My friend Janelle is in Alaska, doing a marathon. She is a fitness maniac, and really has "her stuff" together. And yet she has taken time to encourage me and has genuinely been excited for me as I train for the ride.
Layne is a master cyclist. He has ridden his bicycle across this great nation, not to mention internationally. He is an incredible writer, performer, artist, and still he has been generous with his words and spirit as he has followed this blog.
Peter and Dianne are avid cyclists who embraced this "newbie", opening their home to my family and taking time to ride with Fred and I, sharing their insights, advice, experience and knowledge.
Fred is a nationally ranked racquetball player with international and national championships on his resume. He plays in tournaments all over the country throughout the year, and has taken time out of his normal drill and playing time to prepare for this trip so that he can do it with me. And his sister, Nancy, is taking a week out of her life to drive support vehicle to ensure the ride is as safe and comfortable as possible.
The list goes on, from my husband and daughter who are cheering me on daily, to my sister and brother who listen to every sordid detail of the affair and alternately sympathize or celebrate with me, to all of you who have so sweetly have read these blog posts and offered your comments and support. This whole journey has been just one example of the many ways my cup runs over.
So, in the tradition of Facebook, "Jennifer Lasik is feeling....... grateful."
Thanks, blog.
Anyway, if you would have told me two months ago that I would be breezing through a 30-mile ride with energy (if not sit bones) to spare, I would have said you were "outta yer mind." And yet, voila, here we are and OH YES I DID.
Adam and Aislynn dropped me off at the start of the route and then drove on to Farson, had a little lunch and started on their own bikes the opposite direction on 28 toward me. I felt crazy good about the fact that when I met up with them I had 24 miles under my belt. I felt even better about the fact that Adam and Aislynn both rode 12 miles (6 to me and 6 with me back to Farson), which means we were out there getting active together, as a family. Whoo hoo!
The ride is mostly a view of sagebrush with the Wind River Range (I think) off in the distance. But I did get close enough to an antelope to cough a little on his dust when he finally leaped away from me. That probably puts me in a pretty small percentage of riders. (In Cody I got similarly close to a golden eagle. Isn't it incredible that these are commonplace views out here??? That's the glory in the Wild, Wild, West.)
I felt sufficiently good today to begin visualizing that final ride across the bridge to Astoria, Oregon in September. I thought I about how I will feel and what it will mean to this journey and to my life as I move forward. I guess some people would call that counting chickens, but I think it's important to imagine that moment so that it becomes cemented in my mind's eye as not only a goal, but something that can and will be accomplished.
I'm feeling so thankful for and inspired by the people in my life who have taken interest in this "project". My friend Janelle is in Alaska, doing a marathon. She is a fitness maniac, and really has "her stuff" together. And yet she has taken time to encourage me and has genuinely been excited for me as I train for the ride.
Layne is a master cyclist. He has ridden his bicycle across this great nation, not to mention internationally. He is an incredible writer, performer, artist, and still he has been generous with his words and spirit as he has followed this blog.
Peter and Dianne are avid cyclists who embraced this "newbie", opening their home to my family and taking time to ride with Fred and I, sharing their insights, advice, experience and knowledge.
Fred is a nationally ranked racquetball player with international and national championships on his resume. He plays in tournaments all over the country throughout the year, and has taken time out of his normal drill and playing time to prepare for this trip so that he can do it with me. And his sister, Nancy, is taking a week out of her life to drive support vehicle to ensure the ride is as safe and comfortable as possible.
The list goes on, from my husband and daughter who are cheering me on daily, to my sister and brother who listen to every sordid detail of the affair and alternately sympathize or celebrate with me, to all of you who have so sweetly have read these blog posts and offered your comments and support. This whole journey has been just one example of the many ways my cup runs over.
So, in the tradition of Facebook, "Jennifer Lasik is feeling....... grateful."
Thanks, blog.
Friday, August 9, 2013
A "Real" Cyclist
Tuesday night I left Kemmerer to travel to Cody for Wyoming Arts Alliance and Wyoming Arts Council board meetings. I wanted to bring my bike so that I wouldn't lose a whole week of riding. It took some "doing".
First, I packed a big duffel bag full of clothes and equipment: cycling shirts and shorts, lots of socks, my neon green nylon wind breaker, helmet, gloves, shoes, water bottles, baseball caps, gloves, energy gels and snacks, sunglasses, sunscreen, bug spray. Whew... I'm slowly learning to work off a check list and to be more organized with my newfound sport, especially after a couple rides that got uncomfortable because I didn't have the supplies I needed along the way.
The duffel bag was in addition to the suitcase with my business clothes, the bag with all my "beauty maintenance" items, the tote with my laptop, tablet, agenda book, board binder, and my purse. I am pretty sure the car was a few inches lower with the weight of all my gear, and I admit I did have a concern or two about turning into a bag lady.
Then, of course, the bike rack and bike itself had to be mounted on the car.
It was quite a process.
But I rode. I took the time to pack my professional clothes and send them with a colleague so I could do an hour-long ride in the mornings, ride to the meeting sites, and get cleaned up and presentable at those sites. Cody has an upper and lower section, which denotes a pretty decent climb from one section to the other. I am proud to say that after my adventures in Grand Junction and all the advice and encouragement from my new friends Peter and Dianne, I not only did not avoid those climbs, but sought them out. That's right. My new perspective was, "Oooooh, there's a climb. I'm doing it! It's good for me!" (True.)
So.... I am s-t-r-e-t-c-h-I-n-g and GROWING. Feels pretty damn good, to tell you the truth. (Aches and pains notwithstanding..)
I'm not going to lie. Working cycling into travel, meetings and daily life is a time-consuming and fussy project, and often means making choices about where my time is best spent. I'm hoping that as I make it a priority, more and more it will become second nature and a quick process that highlights organization and efficiency, two pieces still lacking as far as I am concerned.
The upside? I am starting to feel like a "real" cyclist and an "active person" -- way exciting.
Thanks, blog.
First, I packed a big duffel bag full of clothes and equipment: cycling shirts and shorts, lots of socks, my neon green nylon wind breaker, helmet, gloves, shoes, water bottles, baseball caps, gloves, energy gels and snacks, sunglasses, sunscreen, bug spray. Whew... I'm slowly learning to work off a check list and to be more organized with my newfound sport, especially after a couple rides that got uncomfortable because I didn't have the supplies I needed along the way.
The duffel bag was in addition to the suitcase with my business clothes, the bag with all my "beauty maintenance" items, the tote with my laptop, tablet, agenda book, board binder, and my purse. I am pretty sure the car was a few inches lower with the weight of all my gear, and I admit I did have a concern or two about turning into a bag lady.
Then, of course, the bike rack and bike itself had to be mounted on the car.
It was quite a process.
But I rode. I took the time to pack my professional clothes and send them with a colleague so I could do an hour-long ride in the mornings, ride to the meeting sites, and get cleaned up and presentable at those sites. Cody has an upper and lower section, which denotes a pretty decent climb from one section to the other. I am proud to say that after my adventures in Grand Junction and all the advice and encouragement from my new friends Peter and Dianne, I not only did not avoid those climbs, but sought them out. That's right. My new perspective was, "Oooooh, there's a climb. I'm doing it! It's good for me!" (True.)
So.... I am s-t-r-e-t-c-h-I-n-g and GROWING. Feels pretty damn good, to tell you the truth. (Aches and pains notwithstanding..)
I'm not going to lie. Working cycling into travel, meetings and daily life is a time-consuming and fussy project, and often means making choices about where my time is best spent. I'm hoping that as I make it a priority, more and more it will become second nature and a quick process that highlights organization and efficiency, two pieces still lacking as far as I am concerned.
The upside? I am starting to feel like a "real" cyclist and an "active person" -- way exciting.
Thanks, blog.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Kind of a Big Stretch - Part Two (Sunday)
Saturday night we decided that Fred and I would ride with Peter the next morning. I still felt nervous about this because Peter is way fit and a very experienced cyclist, but the great thing about him is that he has this awesome, laid back, accepting demeanor that made me feel relaxed and comfortable. I knew he would be patient and non-judgmental on the ride.
But when I woke up Sunday, tired and sore from the day before, my anxiety returned, especially when we started talking about where to ride and decided that a descent into the monument and a ride along the rim would be the route. If I am a novice and a slow rider in general, I am 100 times worse on climbs. But I didn't want to be a baby, and was also operating under the conviction that I needed to challenge myself and establish a benchmark at the same time.
And so we started out. There was about a mile of downhill riding on a gravel road, which was tough for this scaredy cat. Gravel freaks me out because I'm desperately afraid of my wheels skidding sideways, causing me to crash. When I was 12 I was standing up, pedaling furiously on my bike and one of the pedals came off. I crashed hard, sliding several feet on concrete and gravel and still remember the pain of my mom picking the gravel out of my hip, ribs and arms. Definite negative emotional tagging there. Happily, no crashes today.
The first part of the ride was great. More downhill riding than climbing and breathtaking, stunning vistas, which you will see below this blog. But as we rode down, down, down, I worried more and more about the up, up, up that would be necessary in order to get back to the house. About midway through we did a fairly ambitious climb, and I could feel the previous day's ride, because pushing uphill was even harder than usual. Then there was a long, steep downhill ride. It was like flying. So much fun. But when we turned back toward home, the real work began.
Peter is really, really good at climbing and genuinely enjoys it. By my estimation, he climbed about three times as much as Fred and I, because we would begin a long hill and he would take off like a bullet, riding up the hill, then turning around and coming back down to where we were to check on us and start all over. He was amazing, offering advice and encourage and lots of energy to the experience. I was thinking that Peter is to cycling what Brett Favre was to football (before he got weird and creepy.) He has this great boyish joy about riding that is infectious, and it makes me want to get really good at it so I can love it the way he does.
That being said, today was the hardest physical challenge I have ever attempted. I have never been so out of breath for so long a period of time in my whole life. We climbed 1200 feet the second part of the ride, and I slowly dragged my carcass up every inch of it, huffing and puffing the whole way. It was such hard work that I couldn't recover in-between climbs, so each one started more out-of-breath than the last one.
And I had to contend with both my fragility AND my ego. So at some point I started doing this weird half-gasping, half-crying thing where I would suck in a huge gulp of air and then push it out in these ragged, pathetic sobs. Then I would see Peter riding back down the hill toward me and my pride would force me to swallow it and get it together long enough to say, "Oh, I'm fine. I may be slow, but I am determined."
When I became not only teary but really shaky I realized I need to get some calories into me. I stopped to drink water and eat these tasty little gummy energy bites. Fred stopped, too, and downed an energy bar, and Peter rode back, I think a little mystified as to why the ride was even taking long enough or taking enough energy to warrant a mini-meal. Apparently my façade was also starting to break down, because he offered to ride back to the house and bring his truck back so we could throw our bikes in the back and be done. "No!" I said. "I am going to finish this ride. I may be slow, but I can do it." (All false bravado. I really doubted I could make it all the way back at this point and was beginning to wonder the exact spot in which I would lie down on the side of the road, unable to make one more revolution of the pedals.)
Fred was jubilant, by the way. Although he, too, felt sore and extremely fatigued by the ride, he was buoyed by the thought that what we were doing was harder than any single day of our September ride will be. We finished our energy snacks and started another long, steep climb. Peter stayed by my side as I began to lose my breath again and encouraged me. "When you get to the top of the hill -- see those three arrows?-- it will be the crest. Well, there is one more hill, but then it's downhill and easy riding from there."
"Okay," I told him. "I got this. But go on and ride ahead, because if I start to cry I want to do it alone." Peter laughed, reassured me one more time and took off. I gritted my teeth and worked my granny gear. At the top of the hill the road veered left behind a cluster of trees, so I couldn't really see where the road went as I climbed. But I kept my eyes fixed on the top of the hill, telling myself that this was it -- the last tough piece. And I did it. I got to the top of the hill, turned left... and there was another steep hill (which Peter had referenced, but which had not registered in my oxygen-deprived brain.) I stopped my bike.
Fred turned and rode back to me, and when he asked, "Are you okay?" I shook my head. No, I wasn't, and this time I didn't bother trying not to cry in front of anyone. Like a pressure valve releasing, tears streamed down my cheeks, and Fred was smart enough and kind enough to just let me cry.
But you know what? I finished the ride. After that last climb, there was a most glorious downhill ride and about halfway down, I felt the energy from the food we had consumed kick in. There were about four final miles of mostly rolling hills, and they flew by like nothing. And afterward, I had something huge to feel proud of. Dianne met us as we were coming back up the driveway. "How did it go?" she asked.
"It was hard," I replied. "I cried a little, but I stayed on my bike." Yeah, probably not the best thing to tell her, because she looked a little alarmed and asked me several times after that if I was okay. I hadn't known her long enough to disclose my weeper tendencies, or that I am surprisingly gritty despite the sometimes freely-flowing tears.
We finished our stay with a brunch of omelets and peach and walnut pancakes. The weekend was so great for learning, growing, testing my limits and getting a more accurate picture of the road ahead (no pun intended.) As I told Peter, there is some work to be done in the next month. There's a road off of 189 that is a two-mile long climb, and I think I need to get on it and ride up and back, up and back over and over to practice.
In the coming days I will reflect more on all the subtle and outright things I learned, but for now, thanks blog.
And thanks so much to Dianne and Peter, our wonderful hosts and mentors, for an incredible weekend.
But when I woke up Sunday, tired and sore from the day before, my anxiety returned, especially when we started talking about where to ride and decided that a descent into the monument and a ride along the rim would be the route. If I am a novice and a slow rider in general, I am 100 times worse on climbs. But I didn't want to be a baby, and was also operating under the conviction that I needed to challenge myself and establish a benchmark at the same time.
And so we started out. There was about a mile of downhill riding on a gravel road, which was tough for this scaredy cat. Gravel freaks me out because I'm desperately afraid of my wheels skidding sideways, causing me to crash. When I was 12 I was standing up, pedaling furiously on my bike and one of the pedals came off. I crashed hard, sliding several feet on concrete and gravel and still remember the pain of my mom picking the gravel out of my hip, ribs and arms. Definite negative emotional tagging there. Happily, no crashes today.
The first part of the ride was great. More downhill riding than climbing and breathtaking, stunning vistas, which you will see below this blog. But as we rode down, down, down, I worried more and more about the up, up, up that would be necessary in order to get back to the house. About midway through we did a fairly ambitious climb, and I could feel the previous day's ride, because pushing uphill was even harder than usual. Then there was a long, steep downhill ride. It was like flying. So much fun. But when we turned back toward home, the real work began.
Peter is really, really good at climbing and genuinely enjoys it. By my estimation, he climbed about three times as much as Fred and I, because we would begin a long hill and he would take off like a bullet, riding up the hill, then turning around and coming back down to where we were to check on us and start all over. He was amazing, offering advice and encourage and lots of energy to the experience. I was thinking that Peter is to cycling what Brett Favre was to football (before he got weird and creepy.) He has this great boyish joy about riding that is infectious, and it makes me want to get really good at it so I can love it the way he does.
That being said, today was the hardest physical challenge I have ever attempted. I have never been so out of breath for so long a period of time in my whole life. We climbed 1200 feet the second part of the ride, and I slowly dragged my carcass up every inch of it, huffing and puffing the whole way. It was such hard work that I couldn't recover in-between climbs, so each one started more out-of-breath than the last one.
And I had to contend with both my fragility AND my ego. So at some point I started doing this weird half-gasping, half-crying thing where I would suck in a huge gulp of air and then push it out in these ragged, pathetic sobs. Then I would see Peter riding back down the hill toward me and my pride would force me to swallow it and get it together long enough to say, "Oh, I'm fine. I may be slow, but I am determined."
When I became not only teary but really shaky I realized I need to get some calories into me. I stopped to drink water and eat these tasty little gummy energy bites. Fred stopped, too, and downed an energy bar, and Peter rode back, I think a little mystified as to why the ride was even taking long enough or taking enough energy to warrant a mini-meal. Apparently my façade was also starting to break down, because he offered to ride back to the house and bring his truck back so we could throw our bikes in the back and be done. "No!" I said. "I am going to finish this ride. I may be slow, but I can do it." (All false bravado. I really doubted I could make it all the way back at this point and was beginning to wonder the exact spot in which I would lie down on the side of the road, unable to make one more revolution of the pedals.)
Fred was jubilant, by the way. Although he, too, felt sore and extremely fatigued by the ride, he was buoyed by the thought that what we were doing was harder than any single day of our September ride will be. We finished our energy snacks and started another long, steep climb. Peter stayed by my side as I began to lose my breath again and encouraged me. "When you get to the top of the hill -- see those three arrows?-- it will be the crest. Well, there is one more hill, but then it's downhill and easy riding from there."
"Okay," I told him. "I got this. But go on and ride ahead, because if I start to cry I want to do it alone." Peter laughed, reassured me one more time and took off. I gritted my teeth and worked my granny gear. At the top of the hill the road veered left behind a cluster of trees, so I couldn't really see where the road went as I climbed. But I kept my eyes fixed on the top of the hill, telling myself that this was it -- the last tough piece. And I did it. I got to the top of the hill, turned left... and there was another steep hill (which Peter had referenced, but which had not registered in my oxygen-deprived brain.) I stopped my bike.
Fred turned and rode back to me, and when he asked, "Are you okay?" I shook my head. No, I wasn't, and this time I didn't bother trying not to cry in front of anyone. Like a pressure valve releasing, tears streamed down my cheeks, and Fred was smart enough and kind enough to just let me cry.
But you know what? I finished the ride. After that last climb, there was a most glorious downhill ride and about halfway down, I felt the energy from the food we had consumed kick in. There were about four final miles of mostly rolling hills, and they flew by like nothing. And afterward, I had something huge to feel proud of. Dianne met us as we were coming back up the driveway. "How did it go?" she asked.
"It was hard," I replied. "I cried a little, but I stayed on my bike." Yeah, probably not the best thing to tell her, because she looked a little alarmed and asked me several times after that if I was okay. I hadn't known her long enough to disclose my weeper tendencies, or that I am surprisingly gritty despite the sometimes freely-flowing tears.
We finished our stay with a brunch of omelets and peach and walnut pancakes. The weekend was so great for learning, growing, testing my limits and getting a more accurate picture of the road ahead (no pun intended.) As I told Peter, there is some work to be done in the next month. There's a road off of 189 that is a two-mile long climb, and I think I need to get on it and ride up and back, up and back over and over to practice.
In the coming days I will reflect more on all the subtle and outright things I learned, but for now, thanks blog.
And thanks so much to Dianne and Peter, our wonderful hosts and mentors, for an incredible weekend.
Kind of a Big Stretch - Part One (Saturday)
We got home a little while ago from our adventure in the Grand Junction area. I tried to blog last night, but was simultaneously exhausted and keyed up and couldn't put two coherent sentences together. Then today I tried again during the ride home and still couldn't focus my thoughts.
You know how it is when so much is jam-packed into a short time that it's hard to figure out what to say about it and what angle to approach it from? That was this past weekend. But I just got done talking to my sister, Rebecca, recounting the past few days, and now feel ready to blog. (Unfortunately for Rebecca, if she reads this, it's going to sound really familiar. But that's what sisters are for, right??)
We spent the weekend at Fred's sister and brother-in-law's place in Glade Park. Peter and Dianne have 35 acres that sit above the Colorado National Monument. They are avid cyclists, and were gracious enough to invite my family to stay with them so that Fred and I could log some hours together on our bikes. First, let me say that two days in Peter and Dianne's home have made me realize that the Southwest style of home decorating is for me -- something I never would have thought before. The house and the guest house are done in earthy tones of terracotta, oranges, greens and blues, and it was as if my entire soul let out a collective content sigh in the midst of it. Their home is also clearly made for entertaining family and guests... I have never seen space so aptly made for people to sit and visit and enjoy one another. I know exactly who I am going to consult when I am ready to decorate my next home.
We arrived late Friday night and got up moderately early on Saturday. After a light breakfast, we got ready to ride. (Lesson one, Fred and I both need a checklist and better organizational skills, as it took an inexplicably long time to gather everything and get on the road.) The route we took was just over 30 miles long, what I call an "out-and-back" where we road almost to the Utah border and then turned around and rode the same exact path in reverse. It was mostly rolling hills and really just about the distance and time on the bikes.
Fred did really well, as expected, except of course for the four or five times he cut me off when he was riding in front of me. We have now come up with a plan for what Peter and Dianne call "car backs", which is when a car is coming up from behind and riders need to be as close to the shoulder as possible in a single file line. It has been agreed that regardless of who is on the inside or outside, any time there's a car back, I will slow down and Fred will speed up to form a line --- these are the kinds of things you figure out as you ride together.
Anyway, we both felt pretty good when we got back from the ride, sore sit bones and fatigue notwithstanding. Adam and Aislynn were just coming back from a trip to town, but agreed to ride back in with us to go to R.E.I (a sporting good store.) (I now know what Butt'R is, Layne!) We also took a little ride through the downtown of Grand Junction -- tres cute. And good timing, because right about then I was hitting a hypoglycemic low, which is not a good experience for anyone around me, because I get uncharacteristically agitated and impatient and can't make a decision to save my life.
We had a light meal at a bagel shop and then walked around a bike store before returning back to the house for the most delicious meal I've had in a long time. Grilled shish kabobs, corn on the cob, squash, saffron rice and a dessert of brownies (that Aislynn made) and ice cream. Soooo dee-lish. I loved Dianne's comment at the dinner table: "The best thing about riding," she said, "is that you get to really eat!" Cheers to that.
So any day that ends after a good accomplishment, great food, fantastic company and some card-playing gets an "A+" in my book.
Stay tuned, blog. Day 2 was a whole different kind of adventure.
You know how it is when so much is jam-packed into a short time that it's hard to figure out what to say about it and what angle to approach it from? That was this past weekend. But I just got done talking to my sister, Rebecca, recounting the past few days, and now feel ready to blog. (Unfortunately for Rebecca, if she reads this, it's going to sound really familiar. But that's what sisters are for, right??)
We spent the weekend at Fred's sister and brother-in-law's place in Glade Park. Peter and Dianne have 35 acres that sit above the Colorado National Monument. They are avid cyclists, and were gracious enough to invite my family to stay with them so that Fred and I could log some hours together on our bikes. First, let me say that two days in Peter and Dianne's home have made me realize that the Southwest style of home decorating is for me -- something I never would have thought before. The house and the guest house are done in earthy tones of terracotta, oranges, greens and blues, and it was as if my entire soul let out a collective content sigh in the midst of it. Their home is also clearly made for entertaining family and guests... I have never seen space so aptly made for people to sit and visit and enjoy one another. I know exactly who I am going to consult when I am ready to decorate my next home.
We arrived late Friday night and got up moderately early on Saturday. After a light breakfast, we got ready to ride. (Lesson one, Fred and I both need a checklist and better organizational skills, as it took an inexplicably long time to gather everything and get on the road.) The route we took was just over 30 miles long, what I call an "out-and-back" where we road almost to the Utah border and then turned around and rode the same exact path in reverse. It was mostly rolling hills and really just about the distance and time on the bikes.
Fred did really well, as expected, except of course for the four or five times he cut me off when he was riding in front of me. We have now come up with a plan for what Peter and Dianne call "car backs", which is when a car is coming up from behind and riders need to be as close to the shoulder as possible in a single file line. It has been agreed that regardless of who is on the inside or outside, any time there's a car back, I will slow down and Fred will speed up to form a line --- these are the kinds of things you figure out as you ride together.
Anyway, we both felt pretty good when we got back from the ride, sore sit bones and fatigue notwithstanding. Adam and Aislynn were just coming back from a trip to town, but agreed to ride back in with us to go to R.E.I (a sporting good store.) (I now know what Butt'R is, Layne!) We also took a little ride through the downtown of Grand Junction -- tres cute. And good timing, because right about then I was hitting a hypoglycemic low, which is not a good experience for anyone around me, because I get uncharacteristically agitated and impatient and can't make a decision to save my life.
We had a light meal at a bagel shop and then walked around a bike store before returning back to the house for the most delicious meal I've had in a long time. Grilled shish kabobs, corn on the cob, squash, saffron rice and a dessert of brownies (that Aislynn made) and ice cream. Soooo dee-lish. I loved Dianne's comment at the dinner table: "The best thing about riding," she said, "is that you get to really eat!" Cheers to that.
So any day that ends after a good accomplishment, great food, fantastic company and some card-playing gets an "A+" in my book.
Stay tuned, blog. Day 2 was a whole different kind of adventure.
Friday, August 2, 2013
THAT Family
I am blogging from the passenger seat of our Ford Edge. The car is packed with suitcases, backpacks and totes, and our three bikes (Adam's and Aislynn's mountain bikes and my road bike) are mounted on the hitch rack. We are headed down to Grand Junction where Fred and I are going to log some good training mileage and Adam and Aislynn are going to try out some off road trails.
I feel so excited and so proud of us -- we are THAT family this weekend, the ones we all see headed to their healthy, active, sporty weekend. In the past I would glance sideways at them on the freeway as I was headed home to watch movies and gobble popcorn, exhausted and ready for yet another sedentary few days off.
Do you realize I could get one of those bumper stickers that says, "I'd rather be riding my bike" and actually MEAN it?? Hoorah!
The weather is gorgeous, and with each passing town sign (Coalville, Wanship, Kamas) I feel my stress lifting like a morning fog burning off in the sunlight.
Something good is about to happen...I just know it.
I feel so excited and so proud of us -- we are THAT family this weekend, the ones we all see headed to their healthy, active, sporty weekend. In the past I would glance sideways at them on the freeway as I was headed home to watch movies and gobble popcorn, exhausted and ready for yet another sedentary few days off.
Do you realize I could get one of those bumper stickers that says, "I'd rather be riding my bike" and actually MEAN it?? Hoorah!
The weather is gorgeous, and with each passing town sign (Coalville, Wanship, Kamas) I feel my stress lifting like a morning fog burning off in the sunlight.
Something good is about to happen...I just know it.
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