the tao of cycling: why les miserables is on my ipod

Sunday, June 17, 2012

why les miserables is on my ipod

I have learned many things this past week.

first--and terribly importantly--the brighton store and cafe is open again. whew! I don't know the entire story, but they reopened for the summer season june 15. john and I caught them preparing, restocking shelves, filling coolers, moving fixtures around, on the 14th. so all my sadness and bemoaning the loss of an institution was unnecessary. whew.

next, although they repaved state route 65 (which we ride from the bottom of little mountain all the way to east canyon dam), which is a huge woo-hoo, they've painted the white stripes so far to the side of the road they fall off at points. a huge truck and boat nearly took me out this morning, and I don't think the driver cared one teeny bit. I waved; he kept driving up the road. my geez! was loud and accompanied by a slightly fearful and incredulous shake of my head: I swear the rear right side of that trailer was a foot away from my left hip. I thought about riding all the way down to the east canyon reservoir, tracking him down, and letting him know what I thought of his driving . . . but then thought better of that.
the sad news is that all the mile- and kilometer-markings on the road have been covered over: I enjoy those bits of encouragement. they'll be back soon, I'm sure, as the Deseret News marathon down from the top of big mountain is coming up next month.
the great news, though, is they've widened the shoulder alongside little dell reservoir so that stretch of road is safer and a little more bike friendly. and as soon as that lovely asphalt gets tamped down a bit more and all the little crumbly black things get brushed/blown/squished away, it will be absolutely lovely.

saw my first porcupine of the year this morning! a big fat thing just sitting in the gully off the shoulder somewhere around little dell. living, thankfully. didn't learn much from this sighting, except how much joy it brings me to see those darn things.

got shivers this morning listening to the finale (6:25 minutes in) of les miserables on my ipod---and just got them again as I googled this to make sure of my accuracy---when jean valjean sings,
to love another person is to see the face of God.
this isn't something to learn in a moment, like the opening of the brighton store, or that a road is recently paved, or that fat porcupines still live in dell canyon. this is something to come to understand through time, through experience, through commitment, and during quiet moments in a verdant canyon.

of everything I learned this week, my favorite---as much as I love the brighton store and cafe---is that I want to keep on seeing the face of God in as many different ways and times as I can, for as long as I live.

with gratitude to victor hugo,
namaste

No comments:

Post a Comment

the Male Ego

The other day I was coming down a canyon in my drop bars (two years ago I would have said, 'what's a drop bar?'), working hard, when I came up on two guys who were also heading downhill but at a more leisurely pace. I passed them, said hello as I did so, and pulled back into the bike lane. a few minutes later they went flying past me, faces looking dead ahead, not a single bit of acknowledgment that I even existed on this planet let alone was involved in and enjoying the same sport they were.
I have to attribute this to the male ego. what else can it be? now I know we all have egos, myself included. and mine even shows its ridiculous little head once in a while, or perhaps more often. but the difference between mine and say, those of certain men on bicycles, is that I KNOW mine exists and I can LAUGH at mine. I know my ego was quite excited to pass those guys, and I could also smile because I knew if the men had really been working like I was, they would have kicked my butt down the hill.
I think I pissed them off.
and I'm sure I will be sharing with you much more of my thoughts about the male ego . . .

a little history

I was married, and I had a mountain bike which I rarely rode. we separated, I moved out, and four months later someone stole my bike. the next spring, 2005, I bought myself a new mountain bike. I rode occasionally, and in april 2006 I rode in my first century, the Cactus Hugger in St. George, Utah. I made it 54 miles on that mountain bike, and it took me about 6 hours. I think that included the rest stops where I prayed that someone would steal my bike again . . .
in june 2006 I started riding my mountain bike five mornings a week, a 45-55 minute loop that was intended to be all about exercise. and what I found was that I loved the quiet, peaceful morning full of bird chatter and barely breaking sunrises. by that fall I was hooked, and began considering the purchase of a road bike. I rode up emigration canyon for the first time that Labor Day of 2006, panting and plowing along on my trusty (heavy) bike, and a month later I was the proud owner of my own road bike: I had become a two-bike girl!
a 17-week-long "power camp" over the winter and a handful of new friends kept bicycling front and center in my life, and when spring of 2007 rolled around I was ready to hit the pavement. I rode my first century the end of april, when I again went to St. George and completed that Cactus Hugger. it took me about 7 hours, but this time I rode the entire 100 miles with about 9300 feet of vertical gain. woo hoo!
I started riding canyons around our area, emigration and millcreek, city creek, big cottonwood, little mountain and big mountain, and once--yes, only once--little cottonwood.
then in september of 2007, I rode from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming, in the slightly infamous LOTOJA race. I rode, I did not race. and I completed the thing, crediting my good training buddies, the incredibly perfect weather, my support team, and an amazing convergence of all things positive in the universe.
I put in about 3500 miles last season, and as of today, july 19, 2008, I have about 1700 in, adding to it every day.
I have again signed on to ride the LOTOJA race, and my goal is to have just somewhere near as great a ride as I did last year. oh, and to have someone fun to talk with along the way as I got incredibly bored last year . . . star valley is still a nightmare scene in my biking memories . . .
and here is a picture of the machine that has helped me reclaim my life.