60
45
30
the story tomorrow!
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
uncertainty
the other day I was riding down the canyon and I thought to myself (really? to whom else would I think?)
what if I'm not really here?
what if I am living an angelic experience, me, a celestial being, invisible, untouchable, an apparition here on earth, not really here.
not really riding my bike down the road: there is no "my", there is no bike.
I've fantasized every encounter I think I've had, all of the exhaustion and sweat and sore muscles are just wishful thinking.
the relationships I think I have are all of my own making, perhaps some in conjunction with the dreams and fantasies of others.
I'm not really here.
I am a being of love and light that has woven this most complex tapestry of connection with true beings ~ I watch from afar as the me who is not works her magic with lights and mirrors and creates a reality that does not exist.
I'm not really here.
the grease stains on my hands are visible only to my ethereal eyes, the rush of the wind against my skin is a dream, the fast whirring of my coasting pedals resonates only in my own pretend mind.
I am not really here.
and as if to confirm my paranormal, otherworldly thoughts, I just received an email from the Ironhorse photographers down in durango, telling me that tomorrow's event was fabulous, and that they took pictures of me while I was riding. tomorrow.
I seem to be here today, at this moment.
I'll be in durango tomorrow, thus you won't be hearing from me for a couple days.
peace be with you, and I will try to find a more concrete version of myself to bring back.
hmm, I wonder if you can see me in those pictures, or if I'm just a phantom on a riderless bike . . .
what if I'm not really here?
what if I am living an angelic experience, me, a celestial being, invisible, untouchable, an apparition here on earth, not really here.
not really riding my bike down the road: there is no "my", there is no bike.
I've fantasized every encounter I think I've had, all of the exhaustion and sweat and sore muscles are just wishful thinking.
the relationships I think I have are all of my own making, perhaps some in conjunction with the dreams and fantasies of others.
I'm not really here.
I am a being of love and light that has woven this most complex tapestry of connection with true beings ~ I watch from afar as the me who is not works her magic with lights and mirrors and creates a reality that does not exist.
I'm not really here.
the grease stains on my hands are visible only to my ethereal eyes, the rush of the wind against my skin is a dream, the fast whirring of my coasting pedals resonates only in my own pretend mind.
I am not really here.
and as if to confirm my paranormal, otherworldly thoughts, I just received an email from the Ironhorse photographers down in durango, telling me that tomorrow's event was fabulous, and that they took pictures of me while I was riding. tomorrow.
I seem to be here today, at this moment.
I'll be in durango tomorrow, thus you won't be hearing from me for a couple days.
peace be with you, and I will try to find a more concrete version of myself to bring back.
hmm, I wonder if you can see me in those pictures, or if I'm just a phantom on a riderless bike . . .
Thursday, May 27, 2010
peppermints
yesterday I met a man at the top of emigration canyon.
he came huffing and puffing to the top, in that dangerously slow speed range where one fears they will fall, wobbling a bit back and forth in an effort to stay upright.
he crested the top, picking up a slight bit of speed, then looped once and came to a stop.
I'd seen him earlier. when I passed him he was resting a few kilometers from the top: he was a bit older, and he gave back a hearty "hello" in response to my own.
so when I saw him again at the summit I felt comfortable giving him a cheer, and threw out some words of that ilk, something about how great it was to reach the top.
"pretty good for 83, I'd say," he responded.
"83?" I replied, "wow!"
"yep, well, not actually until july."
I pulled up close to where he'd stopped and I unclipped and stood over my bike. "I want to be you," I said.
"you want to be 83?"
"well, someday, yes, I do," I laughed. "and I want to be riding when I get there."
we chatted for a few minutes, as he told me about his participation in the Utah Senior Games, and the medals he'd won. he asked where I lived, and he told me where he lived and how he makes a 26-mile loop on the ride he was on.
he gave me a peppermint to suck on.
he gave me an even bigger gift: belief.
belief in the life ahead of me, of the years and years still to come.
it's easy to get caught up in the reality of the present day, the issues and challenges and struggles and frustration. to be fully present in the now one must give up an attachment to and a dependence upon the future. and sometimes, just sometimes, it's nice to pull away from being engulfed in the moment and acknowledge that future days will come, bringing new experiences, surprises, and that unpredictability that enriches our lives. I could not have predicted I'd be where (physically, emotionally, career-wise, all of that) I am today, so how can I possibly predict where I'll be in another half dozen years?
I have no idea where I'll be when (hopefully) I reach 83. I have no idea where I'll be when I reach 53. the future is everywhere in front of me and I do not know what it looks like.
I just hope it always has a bike in it.
and a few little rolling hills.
and a tailwind.
and, perhaps, a peppermint or two for me to share with someone I meet at the top of a hill.
he came huffing and puffing to the top, in that dangerously slow speed range where one fears they will fall, wobbling a bit back and forth in an effort to stay upright.
he crested the top, picking up a slight bit of speed, then looped once and came to a stop.
I'd seen him earlier. when I passed him he was resting a few kilometers from the top: he was a bit older, and he gave back a hearty "hello" in response to my own.
so when I saw him again at the summit I felt comfortable giving him a cheer, and threw out some words of that ilk, something about how great it was to reach the top.
"pretty good for 83, I'd say," he responded.
"83?" I replied, "wow!"
"yep, well, not actually until july."
I pulled up close to where he'd stopped and I unclipped and stood over my bike. "I want to be you," I said.
"you want to be 83?"
"well, someday, yes, I do," I laughed. "and I want to be riding when I get there."
we chatted for a few minutes, as he told me about his participation in the Utah Senior Games, and the medals he'd won. he asked where I lived, and he told me where he lived and how he makes a 26-mile loop on the ride he was on.
he gave me a peppermint to suck on.
he gave me an even bigger gift: belief.
belief in the life ahead of me, of the years and years still to come.
it's easy to get caught up in the reality of the present day, the issues and challenges and struggles and frustration. to be fully present in the now one must give up an attachment to and a dependence upon the future. and sometimes, just sometimes, it's nice to pull away from being engulfed in the moment and acknowledge that future days will come, bringing new experiences, surprises, and that unpredictability that enriches our lives. I could not have predicted I'd be where (physically, emotionally, career-wise, all of that) I am today, so how can I possibly predict where I'll be in another half dozen years?
I have no idea where I'll be when (hopefully) I reach 83. I have no idea where I'll be when I reach 53. the future is everywhere in front of me and I do not know what it looks like.
I just hope it always has a bike in it.
and a few little rolling hills.
and a tailwind.
and, perhaps, a peppermint or two for me to share with someone I meet at the top of a hill.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
scared
I have been scared so many times in my life I couldn't begin to try to count them. especially in these past few years, as I have stepped beyond my own comfort zone time after time just in trying to navigate what the world has thrown my way.
I sometimes try to imagine a life with no fear.
this could go two different ways:
today (a most gorgeous day, by the way, in which everyone who owns a bike did their best to hop on it and pedal away somewhere) I was pedaling up a hill, pulling up on my pedals via my cleats, feeling the extra power that system allows.
I thought back to my first road bike purchase, three and a half years ago, and how scared I was to convert from regular old clodhopper pedals to the "clipless" system where your shoes are clipped into the pedal (don't let me get into a discussion of the clipless/clip/cleat jargon mess).
it was scary.
it was something new to learn, something that involved risk, possible embarrassment, and perhaps, pain. and sure enough, I've experienced both embarrassment and pain due to my cycling footwear, the most recent just about three weeks ago when I fell over at a stop sign because I couldn't seem to unclip my left shoe from its pedal.
I don't fear my cleats anymore---I've accepted the risk and possible negative outcomes and decided the reward is worth it---but I certainly did at the beginning.
I hurdled over that fear anyway.
just like I swallowed my fear in first signing up for power camp, and for walking into class that first day all those years ago. I face fear frequently, just making my way through this world as a homeowner, business owner, parent, and fallible human being.
I'd like to someday be fearless, to live as my second scenario above.
but for now I just keep piling up my fear-hurdling experiences behind me, and every once in a while turn around to view their immensity. there are hundreds of them, all puffy with pride and dense with growth.
forward-ho: it's really the only way to move.
yes.
I sometimes try to imagine a life with no fear.
this could go two different ways:
- it could be a quiet, tame life, one in which adventures aren't undertaken, nothing but the known is embraced. a life full of research and predictions and caution and "no, thank you's." tempting, at times, to think of living like this.
- or it could be a life full of newness and adventure and willingness, all accompanied by confidence. by a state of certainty, sureness; really, a state of faith. a life full of "yes." wow.
today (a most gorgeous day, by the way, in which everyone who owns a bike did their best to hop on it and pedal away somewhere) I was pedaling up a hill, pulling up on my pedals via my cleats, feeling the extra power that system allows.
I thought back to my first road bike purchase, three and a half years ago, and how scared I was to convert from regular old clodhopper pedals to the "clipless" system where your shoes are clipped into the pedal (don't let me get into a discussion of the clipless/clip/cleat jargon mess).
it was scary.
it was something new to learn, something that involved risk, possible embarrassment, and perhaps, pain. and sure enough, I've experienced both embarrassment and pain due to my cycling footwear, the most recent just about three weeks ago when I fell over at a stop sign because I couldn't seem to unclip my left shoe from its pedal.
I don't fear my cleats anymore---I've accepted the risk and possible negative outcomes and decided the reward is worth it---but I certainly did at the beginning.
I hurdled over that fear anyway.
just like I swallowed my fear in first signing up for power camp, and for walking into class that first day all those years ago. I face fear frequently, just making my way through this world as a homeowner, business owner, parent, and fallible human being.
I'd like to someday be fearless, to live as my second scenario above.
but for now I just keep piling up my fear-hurdling experiences behind me, and every once in a while turn around to view their immensity. there are hundreds of them, all puffy with pride and dense with growth.
forward-ho: it's really the only way to move.
yes.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
inspiration, faith, and patience
I'm quite sure that part of my intention in creating this blog had to do with inspiration: my sharing of what inspires me, hopefully to spread a bit of encouragement and inspiration to others.
and most days I find inspiration somewhere, somehow.
today, however . . .
my ride was hard with miles of a cold wind in my face, and I did not feel like I was performing well. at all. I didn't time myself because I didn't want to be discouraged. I dragged myself, kicking and screaming, to the top of the hill chanting my little mantra-of-the-day: I am happy, I am warm, I am strong. I am happy, I am warm, I am strong.
sometimes the power of positive thinking isn't quite enough to make things so.
thus I have little internal inspiration to share (okay, it was beautiful, with gobs of water clamoring to get down the creekbed and lots of snow clinging to shaded trees and hillsides and peaks) and am pulling from someone else's today.
I'm pulling this from steven lane taylor, who got it from a friend of his. it came to me via email this morning, and it's a short movie about, well, faith, and patience. I was able to practice the art of patience while watching it, and it just seems like the right message to pass along today.
I hope you find time to watch it, and then let the lesson just seep into your being over the next little while.
blessings to you all ~ here's the link: www.5millionforchange.com/MovieBamboo.aspx
and most days I find inspiration somewhere, somehow.
today, however . . .
my ride was hard with miles of a cold wind in my face, and I did not feel like I was performing well. at all. I didn't time myself because I didn't want to be discouraged. I dragged myself, kicking and screaming, to the top of the hill chanting my little mantra-of-the-day: I am happy, I am warm, I am strong. I am happy, I am warm, I am strong.
sometimes the power of positive thinking isn't quite enough to make things so.
thus I have little internal inspiration to share (okay, it was beautiful, with gobs of water clamoring to get down the creekbed and lots of snow clinging to shaded trees and hillsides and peaks) and am pulling from someone else's today.
I'm pulling this from steven lane taylor, who got it from a friend of his. it came to me via email this morning, and it's a short movie about, well, faith, and patience. I was able to practice the art of patience while watching it, and it just seems like the right message to pass along today.
I hope you find time to watch it, and then let the lesson just seep into your being over the next little while.
blessings to you all ~ here's the link: www.5millionforchange.com/MovieBamboo.aspx
Friday, May 21, 2010
heartbreak
it was inevitable.
I knew it would happen, and I knew it would happen soon.
on wednesday I saw signs that it was imminent.
yet still, today, my heart broke.
on wednesday the road had been cleaned, swept, the hillsides pushed back, all of the tumbled-down rocks cleared from the asphalt. no snow remained, just the dusty red scrapings of rock. the twigs and branches and gravel were all gone, the hardtop clean and ready for, sigh, vehicles.
yes, the gate is open.
today I rode three miles up past the open gate, and was passed by eight vehicles.
deep sigh.
the good news is this: I no longer have to slow down as I approach the gate, ride off the side of the road onto the squirrelly gravel and rock, and ride through that little muddy puddle that collects after each rain, just to go around the gate.
let's see, the other good things are . . .
okay, I tried. there is really nothing else good about the gate being open.
it's just forward movement, notice that summer will eventually arrive, a sign that nothing is ever static. now I just get to look forward to that autumn day when the air is cold and the skies heavy when the yellow metal gate will once again be pulled shut and locked at the bottom of the road up big mountain. and enjoy all of the beautiful, warm, clear days between now and that inevitable november day.
I knew it would happen, and I knew it would happen soon.
on wednesday I saw signs that it was imminent.
yet still, today, my heart broke.
on wednesday the road had been cleaned, swept, the hillsides pushed back, all of the tumbled-down rocks cleared from the asphalt. no snow remained, just the dusty red scrapings of rock. the twigs and branches and gravel were all gone, the hardtop clean and ready for, sigh, vehicles.
yes, the gate is open.
today I rode three miles up past the open gate, and was passed by eight vehicles.
deep sigh.
the good news is this: I no longer have to slow down as I approach the gate, ride off the side of the road onto the squirrelly gravel and rock, and ride through that little muddy puddle that collects after each rain, just to go around the gate.
let's see, the other good things are . . .
okay, I tried. there is really nothing else good about the gate being open.
it's just forward movement, notice that summer will eventually arrive, a sign that nothing is ever static. now I just get to look forward to that autumn day when the air is cold and the skies heavy when the yellow metal gate will once again be pulled shut and locked at the bottom of the road up big mountain. and enjoy all of the beautiful, warm, clear days between now and that inevitable november day.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
a rabbit tale
this afternoon I had two kinds of help getting up to the top of emigration canyon: a tailwind, and a rabbit.
the tailwind needs no explanation, it was just a glorious thing giving me pushes around corners and a gentle hand behind my back.
the rabbit was actually two. two rabbits: one in blue and one in pink, riding together.
I first saw them at the top of wasatch drive as we were coming up through the golf course heading to the mouth of the canyon. they were about a quarter mile ahead of me, a guy in blue and what looked to be a girl, in pink.
I saw them next rounding a curve just as I started up the canyon. then again at the end of a straightaway I had just curved into. the peek-a-boo game continued as we wove our way around curves and up the road. I even timed the distance between us a couple times, checking to see if it was remaining constant or if I was slipping and the time was increasing. they passed a white mailbox and I clocked the time until I passed the mailbox: one minute. they crested the rise, and I crested the rise one minute later. I couldn't gain on them, but I didn't seem to be losing ground either.
each time they disappeared around a bend I powered on the speed, hoping to catch sight of them again before another curve took them further away and out of my view.
I chased those darn rabbits all the way to the top, where they were standing astride their bikes, pausing.
you guys made great rabbits, I told them, I kept seeing you, trying to catch up, and I never could.
I looped around, smiling at them, and they smiled back and the blue rabbit then said, hi susan.
hi! I said, grinning at them both. well, I'm off ~ have a great ride! and I took off toward big mountain.
I have no idea who he was.
and if it was you and you're reading this, will you please let me know?
because I am embarrassed.
I spent the next thirty minutes trying to figure out who he was, then another half hour rehearsing how I could have handled it differently so that I would now know who it was:
Tyler, is that you? I could have said, allowing him the opportunity to say, no, it's Jim.
or Tom.
or Ryan.
or George.
it could have been Jason.
but darn it all, helmets and sunglasses are much too good of identity-disguising tools.
maybe it was Jason.
sigh.
I had a great ride this afternoon, the only flaw being this little niggling question of who my blue rabbit was.
and my little bit of resulting embarrassment.
if you know the mystery blue rabbit with the cute blonde in pink who hit the emigration summit today about three pm, you'll make my day if you'll just please tell me who it was.
it may have been Jason.
or not.
the tailwind needs no explanation, it was just a glorious thing giving me pushes around corners and a gentle hand behind my back.
the rabbit was actually two. two rabbits: one in blue and one in pink, riding together.
I first saw them at the top of wasatch drive as we were coming up through the golf course heading to the mouth of the canyon. they were about a quarter mile ahead of me, a guy in blue and what looked to be a girl, in pink.
I saw them next rounding a curve just as I started up the canyon. then again at the end of a straightaway I had just curved into. the peek-a-boo game continued as we wove our way around curves and up the road. I even timed the distance between us a couple times, checking to see if it was remaining constant or if I was slipping and the time was increasing. they passed a white mailbox and I clocked the time until I passed the mailbox: one minute. they crested the rise, and I crested the rise one minute later. I couldn't gain on them, but I didn't seem to be losing ground either.
each time they disappeared around a bend I powered on the speed, hoping to catch sight of them again before another curve took them further away and out of my view.
I chased those darn rabbits all the way to the top, where they were standing astride their bikes, pausing.
you guys made great rabbits, I told them, I kept seeing you, trying to catch up, and I never could.
I looped around, smiling at them, and they smiled back and the blue rabbit then said, hi susan.
hi! I said, grinning at them both. well, I'm off ~ have a great ride! and I took off toward big mountain.
I have no idea who he was.
and if it was you and you're reading this, will you please let me know?
because I am embarrassed.
I spent the next thirty minutes trying to figure out who he was, then another half hour rehearsing how I could have handled it differently so that I would now know who it was:
Tyler, is that you? I could have said, allowing him the opportunity to say, no, it's Jim.
or Tom.
or Ryan.
or George.
it could have been Jason.
but darn it all, helmets and sunglasses are much too good of identity-disguising tools.
maybe it was Jason.
sigh.
I had a great ride this afternoon, the only flaw being this little niggling question of who my blue rabbit was.
and my little bit of resulting embarrassment.
if you know the mystery blue rabbit with the cute blonde in pink who hit the emigration summit today about three pm, you'll make my day if you'll just please tell me who it was.
it may have been Jason.
or not.
Monday, May 17, 2010
birthday days
today my babies turn fourteen.
so I celebrated by getting up early and going for a bike ride.
before I left, however, I grabbed my lipstick and scrawled a big Happy Birthday! across the bathroom mirror in case they got up before I returned.
I contemplated parenthood on my ride. and being a mom, giving birth to babies who grow to be children and then adolescents and on. I thought about my life, and how parenting grew to give shape to so much of who I am. and then I thought about my breathing and my legs and my heart rate, and had to stop thinking about being a parent. basically I just had to stop thinking.
but my early morning musings have set the tone for the day. it's difficult not to look back fourteen years and remember the day these girls were born. which leads me to think of my sons being born, and reliving some of those experiences.
it makes for a nostalgic, wee bit melancholy, day.
I'm not one of those parents who bemoan their childrens' growing up: I enjoy each new step and phase, and I love to see how my children are maturing and moving through their own journeys. however, I do, at times like this, find myself looking backward and experiencing awe at just how beautiful and amazing my children have been at each step of their lives. freezing doesn't seem to be an option, so I thank God for pictures.
it's nice to have babies who are fairly self-sufficient. to know that I can go for a three-hour bike ride and they will be more relieved at my absence than anything else. to know that I can have my own life and passions while they continue to develop theirs. it's almost like my children and I are reenacting the stage toddlers go through called "parallel play," where two or more will each play, side by side, but not really interact or combine their activities. we are all here, we each have our own favorite and or necessary activities, and we all support each other in being our own people.
my ride this morning was awesome. the headwind and tired legs on the way up became a tailwind and energized, worked-out legs on the way down, and I returned home strong and ready for a day of cake and cookie making, present wrapping, lunch delivering, and general party preparation. it's been a good day.
and the lipstick remains, although every time I glance at that mirror I think, gosh, what's all over that thing? where's the windex?
I think I might have to leave it there for a while, just as a reminder of all that's good in life.
so I celebrated by getting up early and going for a bike ride.
before I left, however, I grabbed my lipstick and scrawled a big Happy Birthday! across the bathroom mirror in case they got up before I returned.
I contemplated parenthood on my ride. and being a mom, giving birth to babies who grow to be children and then adolescents and on. I thought about my life, and how parenting grew to give shape to so much of who I am. and then I thought about my breathing and my legs and my heart rate, and had to stop thinking about being a parent. basically I just had to stop thinking.
but my early morning musings have set the tone for the day. it's difficult not to look back fourteen years and remember the day these girls were born. which leads me to think of my sons being born, and reliving some of those experiences.
it makes for a nostalgic, wee bit melancholy, day.
I'm not one of those parents who bemoan their childrens' growing up: I enjoy each new step and phase, and I love to see how my children are maturing and moving through their own journeys. however, I do, at times like this, find myself looking backward and experiencing awe at just how beautiful and amazing my children have been at each step of their lives. freezing doesn't seem to be an option, so I thank God for pictures.
it's nice to have babies who are fairly self-sufficient. to know that I can go for a three-hour bike ride and they will be more relieved at my absence than anything else. to know that I can have my own life and passions while they continue to develop theirs. it's almost like my children and I are reenacting the stage toddlers go through called "parallel play," where two or more will each play, side by side, but not really interact or combine their activities. we are all here, we each have our own favorite and or necessary activities, and we all support each other in being our own people.
my ride this morning was awesome. the headwind and tired legs on the way up became a tailwind and energized, worked-out legs on the way down, and I returned home strong and ready for a day of cake and cookie making, present wrapping, lunch delivering, and general party preparation. it's been a good day.
and the lipstick remains, although every time I glance at that mirror I think, gosh, what's all over that thing? where's the windex?
I think I might have to leave it there for a while, just as a reminder of all that's good in life.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
cleats and pedals
these are all things I could write about today, having ridden the infamous Salt Lake Century earlier today:
the perfect riding weather
the million-and-one potholes on the streets
the fact that I went through a pothole and both my water bottles went flying
my forever-now-lost water bottle
how long it takes to catch back up to your team after you have to stop and look for water bottles
how nice the bad ass team members are
how many hundreds and hundreds of other nice people there were out there
the bugs I tasted
the other bugs I tried really hard not to taste
how much time I spent with my heartrate in zone 4B
how many people I flew past
how proud I am to wear a bad ass cycling jersey
how close I am to buying the bad ass cycling shorts that say you-know-what on the rear
the snow capped mountain peaks, from layton to sandy, that I was able to enjoy today
why century organizers insist on making their rides 104, 106, 108 miles......
but the only thing I really want to write about is the amazing sound of 60 cyclists clipping back into their pedals after stopping for a stoplight, then moving forward again when the light turns green. there is just something powerful and uniting about that sound. and as much as I love my time riding all by myself, in a strange little way I look forward to the next time I'm able to hear the sound of a slew of cleats clipping into pedals worn and owned by people who just might, possibly, enjoy that unifying sound almost as much as I do.
the perfect riding weather
the million-and-one potholes on the streets
the fact that I went through a pothole and both my water bottles went flying
my forever-now-lost water bottle
how long it takes to catch back up to your team after you have to stop and look for water bottles
how nice the bad ass team members are
how many hundreds and hundreds of other nice people there were out there
the bugs I tasted
the other bugs I tried really hard not to taste
how much time I spent with my heartrate in zone 4B
how many people I flew past
how proud I am to wear a bad ass cycling jersey
how close I am to buying the bad ass cycling shorts that say you-know-what on the rear
the snow capped mountain peaks, from layton to sandy, that I was able to enjoy today
why century organizers insist on making their rides 104, 106, 108 miles......
but the only thing I really want to write about is the amazing sound of 60 cyclists clipping back into their pedals after stopping for a stoplight, then moving forward again when the light turns green. there is just something powerful and uniting about that sound. and as much as I love my time riding all by myself, in a strange little way I look forward to the next time I'm able to hear the sound of a slew of cleats clipping into pedals worn and owned by people who just might, possibly, enjoy that unifying sound almost as much as I do.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
dromedary lessons
the universe is always providing lessons, whether we like it or not, and today I decided the universe is trying to teach me how to be more camel-like.
no, it's not about water.
it's about starvation and gluttony.
not, it's not about food.
it's about our wishes and dreams and desires, and how the universe goes about fulfilling them.
I can go for days on end (weeks, fortnights, often months) without much of a concession at all from the universe that yes, susan is working hard to achieve these goals and she might just benefit from some little acknowledgment that she's on the right path.
the business phone doesn't ring. the feelers I put out there about certain new activities go without response. people barely acknowledge my existence. I'm in a holding pattern with a new vendor. someone is late paying me money they owe. I'm waiting for responses from institutions with which I must deal. I ride up the same old hills in the same old time and way I always have.
I start to wobble, to falter, to question, to become impatient, to lean toward a funk.
this is when I realize I should have filled my little dromedarian hump with more than I did. I should have taken in a little more resolve, faith, courage, fuel.
today I was showered with reward: phone calls, orders, answers, responses, acknowledgments. I can feel my hump rising, filling, preparing for the next drought. and I am going to remember, this time, to keep giving it a little more than I think it needs so that I can make it a little further next time.
a few more pats on the back, a little more trust in single-lifetime karma. more faith. more self-belief. more awareness of just how much I'm doing right.
I'm not sure why the universe chooses to operate as it does, parching us then slamming us with hydration, but I'm going to start paying a little closer attention. going to start keeping my little dromedarian hump filled with just a bit more sustenance.
no, it's not about water.
it's about starvation and gluttony.
not, it's not about food.
it's about our wishes and dreams and desires, and how the universe goes about fulfilling them.
I can go for days on end (weeks, fortnights, often months) without much of a concession at all from the universe that yes, susan is working hard to achieve these goals and she might just benefit from some little acknowledgment that she's on the right path.
the business phone doesn't ring. the feelers I put out there about certain new activities go without response. people barely acknowledge my existence. I'm in a holding pattern with a new vendor. someone is late paying me money they owe. I'm waiting for responses from institutions with which I must deal. I ride up the same old hills in the same old time and way I always have.
I start to wobble, to falter, to question, to become impatient, to lean toward a funk.
this is when I realize I should have filled my little dromedarian hump with more than I did. I should have taken in a little more resolve, faith, courage, fuel.
today I was showered with reward: phone calls, orders, answers, responses, acknowledgments. I can feel my hump rising, filling, preparing for the next drought. and I am going to remember, this time, to keep giving it a little more than I think it needs so that I can make it a little further next time.
a few more pats on the back, a little more trust in single-lifetime karma. more faith. more self-belief. more awareness of just how much I'm doing right.
I'm not sure why the universe chooses to operate as it does, parching us then slamming us with hydration, but I'm going to start paying a little closer attention. going to start keeping my little dromedarian hump filled with just a bit more sustenance.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
mantras
sunday morning I rode up dell canyon to the top of big mountain.
(I'm quite excited to be able to make that statement, being finally able to name the canyon which I rode. it's all because I finally noticed a small sign planted at the far side of the parking lot up top of big mountain, a sign warning about the protected, watershed use of Dell Canyon.
ah! susan learns something new! she loves this.)
I had ridden hard the day before during my metric century valley loop, and my legs were determined to remind me of their efforts.
I also was confronted by a headwind at the base of emigration canyon which remained true to itself for the rest of my ride, streaming determinedly from the southeast.
soon into my ride a thought flitted through my mind: my legs are tired. then came another thought: I have a headwind. I took both these thoughts and smiled at them, knowing that they were just trying to help me feel better about the fact that I wasn't storming up the hill. it was all okay. my legs were tired, and the wind was pressing against me.
but soon I realized that those were the only two thoughts in my head. my legs are tired. I have a headwind. my legs are tired. there's a headwind. these two thoughts became a mantra, flowing through my mind as the oxygen level in my bloodstream sunk lower, my heart rate rose, and my brain quick thinking anything but the mantra that flowed and flowed and flowed.
now a mantra is typically a good thing. a chant---a phrase, a few words, a brief statement---that frees one from other thoughts and opens up meditative possibilities. mantras help us reclaim peace, they focus our attention onto the positive.
after about 25 minutes of my legs-are-tired-headwind mantra I finally hit a downhill where my oxygen level returned to normal and I was able to process thoughts again: at this point I realized that my mantra was not a helpful, peaceful, positive one. it may have been truthful, but it wasn't really in my best interest.
so I tried to tweak my mantra.
my tired legs are still powerful. this headwind will soon become a tailwind.
nah.
it's okay to be tired. headwinds are good for me.
nah.
nothing seemed to have the seductive rhythm of my original chant, and soon I found it creeping back in . . .
I'm riding well today even though my legs are tired and there's a headwind.
soon I started smiling at myself, because as powerful as I think I am, I cannot seem to outsmart my own brain.
when you get that conundrum figured out, please let me know how to do so.
(I'm quite excited to be able to make that statement, being finally able to name the canyon which I rode. it's all because I finally noticed a small sign planted at the far side of the parking lot up top of big mountain, a sign warning about the protected, watershed use of Dell Canyon.
ah! susan learns something new! she loves this.)
I had ridden hard the day before during my metric century valley loop, and my legs were determined to remind me of their efforts.
I also was confronted by a headwind at the base of emigration canyon which remained true to itself for the rest of my ride, streaming determinedly from the southeast.
soon into my ride a thought flitted through my mind: my legs are tired. then came another thought: I have a headwind. I took both these thoughts and smiled at them, knowing that they were just trying to help me feel better about the fact that I wasn't storming up the hill. it was all okay. my legs were tired, and the wind was pressing against me.
but soon I realized that those were the only two thoughts in my head. my legs are tired. I have a headwind. my legs are tired. there's a headwind. these two thoughts became a mantra, flowing through my mind as the oxygen level in my bloodstream sunk lower, my heart rate rose, and my brain quick thinking anything but the mantra that flowed and flowed and flowed.
now a mantra is typically a good thing. a chant---a phrase, a few words, a brief statement---that frees one from other thoughts and opens up meditative possibilities. mantras help us reclaim peace, they focus our attention onto the positive.
after about 25 minutes of my legs-are-tired-headwind mantra I finally hit a downhill where my oxygen level returned to normal and I was able to process thoughts again: at this point I realized that my mantra was not a helpful, peaceful, positive one. it may have been truthful, but it wasn't really in my best interest.
so I tried to tweak my mantra.
my tired legs are still powerful. this headwind will soon become a tailwind.
nah.
it's okay to be tired. headwinds are good for me.
nah.
nothing seemed to have the seductive rhythm of my original chant, and soon I found it creeping back in . . .
I'm riding well today even though my legs are tired and there's a headwind.
soon I started smiling at myself, because as powerful as I think I am, I cannot seem to outsmart my own brain.
when you get that conundrum figured out, please let me know how to do so.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Organized Rides
yesterday I rode in an organized ride, which is not always high on my list of "have to-do's". I know some people who register for and ride in just about every event they can find. I'm a little more selective. my reasoning goes something like this: we have so much beautiful, accessible terrain to ride through around here, with places available to stop and purchase my own little treats (G2's and water and gatorade and lemonade and bananas--if they're green enough--and granola bars and once in a great while a brownie or rice krispie treat or a payday...): why do I need to pay a bunch of money to ride with a bunch of strangers? I don't need any more water bottles or t-shirts or socks or anything with ride names tattooed on them. I have enough bib numbers on my magnet board, and medals on ribbons hanging alongside, enough pins and stickers and all the other stuff you collect when you participate in enough of these things.
I don't need to ride in a lot of these organized rides.
however, there are obviously some exceptions.
but these are rides with unique attributes that earn that exception status, at least in my book.
the MS ride. this will be my fourth, and it's a huge event run by a staff of dedicated, organized, powerfully positive people. it raises money to continue researching cures for MS. I know entirely too many people affected by MS, so I feel some sense of responsibility to raise money for this ride and show my support by participating in it. as a matter of fact . . . if you'd like to throw a little money toward that cause you are invited to visit my personal page on the MS fundraising site and contribute any old time: susanMSfundraisingpage
any challenging ride I am doing for the first time. okay, you know me, I like to conquer things. I don't think I need say anymore.
the ironhorse classic. I did this last year for the first time, and while I was panting and grinding my way up the first pass I swore I would never do it again. well, I'm doing it again. eyeball roll. for two reasons: I love durango and find it absolutely, stunningly beautiful and it's ambiance and setting just draw me; and this year I'm going to get up those hills without dying, like I did last year. or losing my tooth in a shot block, like I did last year. it's about redemption.
bikes for kids. this is the ride I did yesterday, and it left me with such a peaceful, positive, glowing aura that I will have to do this again. the organizers of this event run a program that is all about giving bikes to 2nd graders who would, without this program, be unlikely to have a bike. this year they're giving away 1000 brand new bikes to kids around the salt lake valley, and my entrance fee to ride yesterday contributed to that process. knowing what my bike has done for me allows me to feel the excitement, joy, freedom, and power these kids will come to know as proud owners of bicycles. how could I not want to help? in addition, this program was founded and is directed by someone I worked with years ago in another life, and I am thrilled that she has found this intensely beautiful thing to do with her time and energy. if you'd like to check them out, visit bikesforkidsutah.com
other rides I do because my bad ass cycling team friends are doing them. this is kind of a new category for me: since I'm on this (fundraising, not racing) team, I feel some pull to join them on group activities. such as this coming saturday, when I'll be riding the salt lake century. I don't really like this ride, as it's just a long and flattish cruise around the north western part of our valley. it's a good way to be a team player and to get a bunch of miles in. sigh. they participate in a few other organized rides that I plan to skip, however. where's my backbone again? oh, yes, there it is.
and, oh yes, lotoja.
okay, I haven't been talking about this.
it's not because of their hanger screw-up, either. it's just because it's a big deal for me, and it wasn't a good ride for me last year, and yes, I signed up to do it again. and yes, I got in.
sigh.
yesterday morning after the bikes for kids ride I was talking to two men who were parked next to me, stowing their bikes while I was doing the same. we both had lotoja stickers on our rear windows (you can find us everywhere . . . but especially at biking events), and the subject came up. the younger guy had registered to ride lotoja for the first time this year, while the older has already done it 4 times. I asked if they both got in, which they did, and I said to the first-time rider, oh, I'm sorry.
I mean this, and I don't.
it's just a darn long ride that necessitates a significant training commitment.
but it's also a darn long ride that you really can't just go do on your own.
so yes, I am doing this again. and probably again after that, so I can earn my big 1000 mile award for riding 5 of them. will work for carrots.
so, there's my organized ride scoop. I don't always adhere to my own theories, they tend to more be a jumping off point. in other words, these rides come up and my first answer is no, I'm not doing that. and then I think about it a little more, contemplate, wait for gauntlets to drop at my feet, or carrots to swing from little strings out in front of me, just beyond my reach.
some of you might consider me a little off my rocker, but let me just leave you with this thought: some of my biking buddies spent their day yesterday in buena vista, colorado, participating in an Adventure Xstream race, which involves mountain biking, trekking, orientation, tyrolean traverse (??), and kayaking. they called it quits after seventeen hours, as apparently the course was just grueling.
helps me look a little more normal, doesn't it?
that's what friends are for.
see ya at the races.
I don't need to ride in a lot of these organized rides.
however, there are obviously some exceptions.
but these are rides with unique attributes that earn that exception status, at least in my book.
the MS ride. this will be my fourth, and it's a huge event run by a staff of dedicated, organized, powerfully positive people. it raises money to continue researching cures for MS. I know entirely too many people affected by MS, so I feel some sense of responsibility to raise money for this ride and show my support by participating in it. as a matter of fact . . . if you'd like to throw a little money toward that cause you are invited to visit my personal page on the MS fundraising site and contribute any old time: susanMSfundraisingpage
any challenging ride I am doing for the first time. okay, you know me, I like to conquer things. I don't think I need say anymore.
the ironhorse classic. I did this last year for the first time, and while I was panting and grinding my way up the first pass I swore I would never do it again. well, I'm doing it again. eyeball roll. for two reasons: I love durango and find it absolutely, stunningly beautiful and it's ambiance and setting just draw me; and this year I'm going to get up those hills without dying, like I did last year. or losing my tooth in a shot block, like I did last year. it's about redemption.
bikes for kids. this is the ride I did yesterday, and it left me with such a peaceful, positive, glowing aura that I will have to do this again. the organizers of this event run a program that is all about giving bikes to 2nd graders who would, without this program, be unlikely to have a bike. this year they're giving away 1000 brand new bikes to kids around the salt lake valley, and my entrance fee to ride yesterday contributed to that process. knowing what my bike has done for me allows me to feel the excitement, joy, freedom, and power these kids will come to know as proud owners of bicycles. how could I not want to help? in addition, this program was founded and is directed by someone I worked with years ago in another life, and I am thrilled that she has found this intensely beautiful thing to do with her time and energy. if you'd like to check them out, visit bikesforkidsutah.com
other rides I do because my bad ass cycling team friends are doing them. this is kind of a new category for me: since I'm on this (fundraising, not racing) team, I feel some pull to join them on group activities. such as this coming saturday, when I'll be riding the salt lake century. I don't really like this ride, as it's just a long and flattish cruise around the north western part of our valley. it's a good way to be a team player and to get a bunch of miles in. sigh. they participate in a few other organized rides that I plan to skip, however. where's my backbone again? oh, yes, there it is.
and, oh yes, lotoja.
okay, I haven't been talking about this.
it's not because of their hanger screw-up, either. it's just because it's a big deal for me, and it wasn't a good ride for me last year, and yes, I signed up to do it again. and yes, I got in.
sigh.
yesterday morning after the bikes for kids ride I was talking to two men who were parked next to me, stowing their bikes while I was doing the same. we both had lotoja stickers on our rear windows (you can find us everywhere . . . but especially at biking events), and the subject came up. the younger guy had registered to ride lotoja for the first time this year, while the older has already done it 4 times. I asked if they both got in, which they did, and I said to the first-time rider, oh, I'm sorry.
I mean this, and I don't.
it's just a darn long ride that necessitates a significant training commitment.
but it's also a darn long ride that you really can't just go do on your own.
so yes, I am doing this again. and probably again after that, so I can earn my big 1000 mile award for riding 5 of them. will work for carrots.
so, there's my organized ride scoop. I don't always adhere to my own theories, they tend to more be a jumping off point. in other words, these rides come up and my first answer is no, I'm not doing that. and then I think about it a little more, contemplate, wait for gauntlets to drop at my feet, or carrots to swing from little strings out in front of me, just beyond my reach.
some of you might consider me a little off my rocker, but let me just leave you with this thought: some of my biking buddies spent their day yesterday in buena vista, colorado, participating in an Adventure Xstream race, which involves mountain biking, trekking, orientation, tyrolean traverse (??), and kayaking. they called it quits after seventeen hours, as apparently the course was just grueling.
helps me look a little more normal, doesn't it?
that's what friends are for.
see ya at the races.
Friday, May 7, 2010
four words via five hands
I am usurping someone else's words here today, words which have come to me fourth-hand. now you get them fifth, but I trust they've retained their wisdom as they have traveled to you in the following way:
dr. jason galea, sports psychologist first uttered them,
to jeremy powers of team jelly belly (how can we go wrong with this!),
who passed them along to bicycling magazine,
in which I read them and decided to
pass them along to you via this web log:
respect all. fear none.
once again, nuf said.
dr. jason galea, sports psychologist first uttered them,
to jeremy powers of team jelly belly (how can we go wrong with this!),
who passed them along to bicycling magazine,
in which I read them and decided to
pass them along to you via this web log:
respect all. fear none.
once again, nuf said.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
not the only one not to be thwarted, or, how my right foot got wet
tuesday I set out to conquer big mountain.
I was thwarted. at mile marker 6, about two and a half miles from the top, snow took over the road. footsteps ventured a mere three or four feet up into it, and the solid, thick blanket nestled quite comfortably atop my only road to the summit.
my conquering was not meant to be.
so today, two days later, I once again set out to conquer big mountain. since my previous attempt we've had some sunshine, some warmer temperatures, and not too much moisture, so I decided today was the day.
all was well, beautiful, really, until I was so darn close to the top that I was not to be denied.
ideally the pictures would be the ones to tell the story, but I'm going to have to help them along. so here we go:
the picture above shows what I encountered just about one kilometer from the top. the road was dry, and then the road was covered with snow, with just a single, fat track heading up and around the curve. hmmm. I saw footprints off to either side, one here, then one there, then one here . . . and continued on. I unclipped my right foot, and pushed myself along by tapping it down every few feet. in the slush, the snow, the deeper snow, then as I emerged around the bend back into the slush and then soon, back onto dry pavement. I am not to be thwarted today.
the rest of the story continues below:
after emerging from the snow-covered bend I encountered the next obstacle: the rock slide. which I gracefully skirted and wove through. the summit finally arrived; in the distance you can see the green sign that marks the edge of Morgan County.
then I had to give you another picture of the snow-covered section, this time looking down around the curve. it was a bit easier going down than up, my right foot again tap-tapping into the snow.
how lucky can I be?
what a beautiful day to ride to the big mountain summit.
Monday, May 3, 2010
emerging skills
this is my latest developing skill:
whipping a banana peel off into the weeds and brush alongside the road while riding.
I am getting good at this.
the first time I did this I nearly crashed.
okay, you laugh, but this is why: when one throws something to their immediate right or left, one usually twists a bit while doing so. and when one (cycling neophyte) is riding a bicycle and twists his or her torso without thinking, the bike has a tendency to want to twist a bit as well.
when I first experienced that I was shocked. I had no idea that throwing a banana peel could cause my bike to wobble. it's one of those core things, that stability stuff. so the next few times I tried to dispose of my banana peels I was cautious, barely getting the peel off the side of the road. (they're biodegradable, remember, helpful to the environment. I'm composting, in a very small way. when the peels stay on the road they are a hazard, at least until they start blackening and losing their slip. so it's important to be able to wing them safely away.)
and today, I winged and my bike experienced nary a wobble. not even a wiggle. my wheels stayed straight and my path remained true.
it was a good banana, too.
ain't progress grand?
whipping a banana peel off into the weeds and brush alongside the road while riding.
I am getting good at this.
the first time I did this I nearly crashed.
okay, you laugh, but this is why: when one throws something to their immediate right or left, one usually twists a bit while doing so. and when one (cycling neophyte) is riding a bicycle and twists his or her torso without thinking, the bike has a tendency to want to twist a bit as well.
when I first experienced that I was shocked. I had no idea that throwing a banana peel could cause my bike to wobble. it's one of those core things, that stability stuff. so the next few times I tried to dispose of my banana peels I was cautious, barely getting the peel off the side of the road. (they're biodegradable, remember, helpful to the environment. I'm composting, in a very small way. when the peels stay on the road they are a hazard, at least until they start blackening and losing their slip. so it's important to be able to wing them safely away.)
and today, I winged and my bike experienced nary a wobble. not even a wiggle. my wheels stayed straight and my path remained true.
it was a good banana, too.
ain't progress grand?
Sunday, May 2, 2010
the impact of desire and motivation on structure
I see it like this:
D + M = S
(desire +motivation = structure)
increase desire, increase motivation, and you then see a strengthened structure.
decrease desire, and decrease motivation, however, and you then see your structure decline.
I'm not talking about biking here. I'm talking about writing.
I seem to be having difficulty adhering to the structure I've created for this blog.
originally it was a daily post.
then it became every other day.
and even at every other day I keep messing up.
and it has to do with desire and motivation.
my desire to write here has slipped, and I cannot seem to find much motivation to write, either.
thus my slipping structure.
see, in addition to my Secret Fantasies of wanting to be a back-up singer and a runner, I have this Real Life Desire to write. two of my most fulfilling places to be are swooping down a gently curving descent on my bike, and engrossed in the writing process.
this weblog began as a way for me to commit to writing by adding the structure of a daily assignment. but lately I have struggled to find the desire to keep doing this. I often don't want to, and worry about repeating myself. it's work, it's effort, and I'm not feeling connected to my Real Life Desire, so I'm neither eager nor excited about writing and posting my missives here.
and that, I believe, is why I didn't post anything here yesterday. in the morning I thought about it, but was busy doing other things. I had commitments early afternoon and early evening with a predicted hour gap between: I thought I'd be able to write and post then. but when that gap arrived, writing and posting neglected to enter my thought-system, and it didn't hit me until today that I'd messed up. again.
life is like this. enthusiasm ebbs and flows, and most of us keep slogging through the troughs until we can revel in the inevitable peaks. and if those peaks stop appearing, we learn to adjust things so that we can find them again.
life without desire and motivation is flat, boring, and at least for me, a struggle.
I don't have the answer.
as I was swooping downhill this afternoon, gleeful with the rush of cold air and the dusting of snowflakes, fresh snow on the ground and burning wood from fireplaces scenting the air, I thought of writing about it, not knowing how else I could possibly share with the world how thrilling and fulfilling those moments were.
so now I have,
and I've repaired yesterday's hole,
and I will hopefully be on the right path to rediscovering a little passion and desire.
which will lead to motivation.
which will support and encourage a strengthened structure.
see ya tomorrow.
D + M = S
(desire +motivation = structure)
increase desire, increase motivation, and you then see a strengthened structure.
decrease desire, and decrease motivation, however, and you then see your structure decline.
I'm not talking about biking here. I'm talking about writing.
I seem to be having difficulty adhering to the structure I've created for this blog.
originally it was a daily post.
then it became every other day.
and even at every other day I keep messing up.
and it has to do with desire and motivation.
my desire to write here has slipped, and I cannot seem to find much motivation to write, either.
thus my slipping structure.
see, in addition to my Secret Fantasies of wanting to be a back-up singer and a runner, I have this Real Life Desire to write. two of my most fulfilling places to be are swooping down a gently curving descent on my bike, and engrossed in the writing process.
this weblog began as a way for me to commit to writing by adding the structure of a daily assignment. but lately I have struggled to find the desire to keep doing this. I often don't want to, and worry about repeating myself. it's work, it's effort, and I'm not feeling connected to my Real Life Desire, so I'm neither eager nor excited about writing and posting my missives here.
and that, I believe, is why I didn't post anything here yesterday. in the morning I thought about it, but was busy doing other things. I had commitments early afternoon and early evening with a predicted hour gap between: I thought I'd be able to write and post then. but when that gap arrived, writing and posting neglected to enter my thought-system, and it didn't hit me until today that I'd messed up. again.
life is like this. enthusiasm ebbs and flows, and most of us keep slogging through the troughs until we can revel in the inevitable peaks. and if those peaks stop appearing, we learn to adjust things so that we can find them again.
life without desire and motivation is flat, boring, and at least for me, a struggle.
I don't have the answer.
as I was swooping downhill this afternoon, gleeful with the rush of cold air and the dusting of snowflakes, fresh snow on the ground and burning wood from fireplaces scenting the air, I thought of writing about it, not knowing how else I could possibly share with the world how thrilling and fulfilling those moments were.
so now I have,
and I've repaired yesterday's hole,
and I will hopefully be on the right path to rediscovering a little passion and desire.
which will lead to motivation.
which will support and encourage a strengthened structure.
see ya tomorrow.
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