where to find me

oh thank you, God, I rode my bike outside and found myself again.

I don't know where I've been, but I found me, saturday, as I rode my bike to power camp class and back. a whopping 10.5 miles, but that wasn't the important part. the important part was being outside, being on my bike, pushing myself up those inclines and little hills, swooping on the slight declines and corners.

sigh.
this is good.

this is where I am, and I just have to figure out a way to bike outside more often in the winter, because I really like it when I find myself.

it makes me think of peter pan, who lost his shadow and needed to have it re-attached to become complete again. the shadow me is always on a bike, and I must feel slightly lost without her.

thank God for my bike, for 55 degree february afternoons, for white-dusted foothills and the sun peeking through clouds.

hope you find you somewhere, always.


namaste.

nakkali

I am a girly girl.
I don't mind getting sweaty, dirty, grimy, gross, all in the pursuit of a great adventure, but man oh man do I love cleaning up afterward.
I love showers, I love the smell of my shampoo, I love smooth skin, I like my hair in control, I like me with a little makeup.
this is me: I really wanted to take my straightening iron to nepal, because I like my hair straight and smooth. I didn't take it, experimenting with how much of me is about my appearance. I missed it. I survived.

because I can handle myself gross, and I obviously am willing to go there frequently, but when I'm not disgustingly sweaty and dirty, I like to be well put together. and I don't really like my mind-of-its-own wavy hair.

hmm.

while in nepal I met an eighteen-year-old intern with CHOICE humanitarian named kate who is just a totally amazing, beautiful person, without and within. not once did I see her worry about her hair, her face, her appearance. she is, of course, naturally stunning, but what comes through is an internal joy and acceptance that overpowers her physical beauty.
everyone loves her: the villagers, the CHOICE staff with whom she works, us expeditioners who were just there with her for a week, everyone. and the nepalis who know her call her--teasingly--nakkali.

nakkali is a nepali word which means pretty girl, fancy girl, a fashionable girl. one who cares about the flowers in her hair, her ribbons, her dress, one who likes nice things: all those things that kate is seemingly not.

I fear I am too much nakkali and not enough kate, but at this point, I don't know that I'm going to change very much. however, the awareness is there, this understanding that what kate has is so beautiful, so genuine, so authentic.
I am destined to just be both: a girly girl, and a sweaty, gross, happy, cyclist.
meshing them together is my goal, which (to look at all the pictures of me cycling) is just not always possible.

but kate reminds me of what's authentic and true, that what matters most is what's in our hearts. when our hearts are happy, we glow, no matter what our hair looks like.

namaste, and thanks, kate.

now I'm off to have my toenails done.

summer plans

yesterday someone in power camp asked me what my summer plans were.
yikes!
I could barely tell her what my plans were for today, for the rest of this week.
but this has been niggling at me a bit, because as I've told everyone and their dog, I am not doing lotoja this year.
yep, not.
I've done my five, I'm darn proud of myself, I'm happy with that, time for a break.
I'm not doing it this year.

well, not as of today.

last week someone mentioned putting a female team together, that she had a sponsor, that we could all do this, it would be fun . . .
I am resisting.

but this is what happens: if I don't sign up, don't plan to ride, what do I do? do I still do all those centuries, will I stop caring about how many miles I log each week? do I choose some other big ride as my goal, do I just start riding for fun, what happens to the susan who has done this for five years?
will I become someone else, a different person, where will I put my energy, my focus, my commitment, do I need therapy?

at this point I've committed to one ride, in durango, over memorial day weekend, the ironhorse classic.
that's it, no others, nada, no plans.
no plans.

which feels really strange . . . so I'm just sitting with it. it's early, it's only the beginning of february. I don't need to know what my summer will be like yet, I don't need to make plans, I have plenty of time.
so I'm sitting, waiting for inspiration, and will eventually fall off my fence and into one set of plans or another.
hey, lotoja registration is still two months away.

of course, I won't be signing up for that because I'm not doing it.
yep, not.

on the road

so far, this best-version-of-me who I'm working on being in each moment

is more patient.
rolls her eyes less.
is more thoughtful.
says yes more often.
says no with great love.
is much more patient.
thinks first.
doesn't ask why quite so often.
is more grateful.
realizes there's all the time in the world, even when it doesn't seem that way.
keeps on doing crunches and ab work.
is calmer.
isn't as anxious.
still goes to power camp, still sweats, still works.
still reads, makes her bed, feeds the dog.
chops wood, carries water.
has no idea where she's found all this patience.

she still likes candy (cookies, cake, pie, chocolate) though, so I'm pretty sure it's still me.
just a slightly improved version of me, one which feels really good from the inside.

the road

I'm trying something new.
so far, so good.

it's not about cycling, but I suppose it applies, as the goal is to apply it across the board, to all aspects, moments, and phases of life. and I suppose we could make it about cycling . . . why not?

this is it, simply, in two axioms:

expect nothing
trust life

in my incorporation of these (incorporate, literally, to take into one's body) I find myself releasing the hope for outcomes, instead, focusing on being my very best me in each moment. these past seven or so weeks since my return from nepal have been very strange for me, and I've often found myself in a place of "not knowing." when confronted with situations I find perplexing, uncomfortable, anxiety-provoking, I have found myself frustrated or indecisive or---possibly worse---disconnected.
and with these two brief statements, four small words, I find myself relaxing and drawing back from this place of "ick" into a place of "ah."
okay, this is only my second day, but the sense of relief is significant. I am simply focused on being my best with each conversation, each encounter, each decision, each action, and letting life itself figure out the rest. (of course I forgive myself when I err, because the act of forgiveness is always a sign of one's being one's best self.)

okay, now let's apply this to cycling.
expect nothing: always bring your own water, your own food, your own electrolytes, your own extra clothing. be prepared. have money, have tubes and cartridges, have your road ID, have sunscreen.
yep, that works pretty well.

trust life: what goes up comes down, so enjoy your swoop after your climb; your body wants to live, and will take just about every healthy challenge you throw its way so don't wimp out; when you fall, someone will eventually help you get up; if you keep smiling and waving, someone will eventually return these efforts.
yep, that works pretty well, too.

expect nothing,
trust life.

because it's truly all about the process, not the result, as brilliantly illustrated by cycling:

it's the road there, not the destination.

end of the blahg

a friend of mine, the other day, commented that they had been reading my blahg . . .
which made me smile, while internally wincing.
ouch.

I'd better get gruntled quickly, hadn't I?


well here goes.

our biking buddies brad and ivy moved to seattle last november, breaking off little corners of all our hearts. they were in town last weekend and we gathered for dinner--fourteen of us, a goofy collection of souls--and I think part of my malaise has to do with the fact that they were brilliantly here and now woefully gone.

the crew who gathered comprised
a plane salesman (girl)
a computer guy
1 entrepreneur
1 nurse
1 writer and small business owner (me!)
2 geologists, one of whom works in academia and one in the real world with environmental issues
1 PhD who has just begun medical school
1 strikingly lovely bulgarian grad student
1 environmental attorney who loves to rock climb
1 professor in the school of business

3 physicians (who can be, if you don't know this, a little bit lovably geeky)

the interests of this combined group skip and scatter about, jumping around the globe and covering many sports, most outside activities known to man, myriad intellectual pursuits, fabulous authors, independent and big screen movies, bacteria, viruses, and raising chickens.

if only our 2 biologist friends had been there, we could have widened the interest range to include worms and axons and plant toxins.

two days ago our temporarily-based-in-seattle (hint hint) friends posted a short video on facebook; ivy the cinematographer, brad the actor. brad was riding his bike around their living and dining rooms and kitchen, while ivy provided the dialogue which was to the tune of "we're adults, look at us, brad is riding his bike in the house, yes, we can do this because we have a big enough house and we're adults."

I miss them.

and my point today is simply this: we are not only what we eat, we are who we choose to spend time with. the people we love, the people we choose to be with, they are part of us, they fuel us, they may at times reflect portions of ourselves (and that is why we're drawn to them) but they also, at times, provide what we ourselves don't have.

I've never ridden my bike in the house. and now I don't have to, because I can live vicariously through the brad-and-ivy show.

and I'm a better person for it.

on being gruntled

He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.

P. G. Wodehouse, 1938, The Code of the Woosters

I am not disgruntled.
but I'm not exactly gruntled, either.

the word disgruntled has been in use since the 1600's, but it wasn't until about 1926 that someone decided there should be a "gruntled" to contrast it. this is--in my opinion--one of those words that just doesn't quite work. gruntled does not sound at all like being in good humor, which is what it is supposed to represent. it sounds more like rooting around, grunting, being annoyed . . . rather like being disgruntled, I suppose.

regardless, I am not exactly gruntled.
maybe it's the continuously gray skyed dry and monotonous "winter" we're experiencing, maybe it's that I'm tired of being cold. maybe it's the third phase of power camp where excitement (and attendance by others) has waned and the work load is heavy, maybe it's that aspects of my work life seem to have stagnated, maybe it's that I haven't been up enough canyons. maybe it's a combination of all of these things, with dashes and pinches of others as well.

and thus I sit here somewhere between disgruntled and gruntled, waiting for little miracles to tip me into gruntledom.

hope you're on the gruntled side today, and I hope to join you there shortly.