reasons to ride

it's nice out.
it's not raining.
it's only raining a little bit.
it's not snowing.
it's not coming down very hard.

it's calm.
it's only slightly windy.
it's only windy in bursts.
they aren't gale force winds yet.

the road is dry.
the road is drying.
the road is just wet in places.
the road only has snow in the gutters.
the bike lane is almost clear.

I feel great.
I feel pretty good.
I don't feel well, but exercise will help.
this cough is nothing, and I can breathe through my mouth.
I'm not on my deathbed yet.

my knees feel great.
my knees only bother me a little.
exercise will help my knees.
I can still make the pedals go around, slowly.

it's so nice I don't need toe covers.
I've got toe covers.
I've got booties.
these neoprene, fur-lined booties keep my feet almost dry.

it's monday.
it's tuesday.
it's wednesday.
it's thursday.
it's friday.
it's saturday.
it's sunday.

because I want to.
because I should.
because it keeps my heart healthy.
because I'll feel great when I'm done.

because the guy with only one leg is out there riding, too.

because I'm darn grateful I can ride a bike.

and the ultimate, final, always appropriate, real reason:

so I can eat more cake.

lilypads

some might question why I write what I write.

the answer falls into two different realms: one, the reason why I write, and two, the reason behind what I write.

first, as you know if you read me often, I write for practice. to hone my skill. to keep me on my toes and challenge my ability to put thoughts into cohesive (more or less) sentences, paragraphs, and blurbs. the fact that it's here and "published" online just helps keep me honest. in other words, it forces me to fulfill my commitment to myself because it's entirely too obvious when I don't.

second, I write to challenge. to put a thought out there that may make you---oh gentle reader---challenge your beliefs, your practices, your way of thinking about a subject, experience or event. it may not, it may just make you yawn or hit the "close tab" button, but there's also a possibility that something you read here may stick with you for a while, wiggle through your cache of beliefs and Understanding Of The World, and ultimately, eventually, either confirm or eat away at a thought you've held firmly for some time.

or perhaps it will reinforce or validate a belief.

or it might tick you off.

or it may make you settle a little more deeply into a part of yourself you'd like to know better, support, or embrace.


my approach to the world is this: we are placed here for a number of reasons, but underlying them all is an expectation or desire that we will commune with others on our journeys. that we will connect, share, enlighten, be enlightened by, inspire, gladden, and enrich the lives of those we interact with. just as no man is an island, not a single soul can accomplish its work without the help of others. without interrelationship we cannot march along toward evolution.
you just can't do it alone.
some of us step on others to move forward, some of us pick up those who've been knocked down. we bump and collide, and could never become the best versions of ourselves without what we learn from our observations, interactions and experiences with others.

so I'm just one more little lilypad in your great big life pond. I'm here, I set out my offerings, I suggest opportunities for reflection and validation. you can certainly reach the other side without ever noticing me, approaching me, or stepping foot anywhere near me. but I am here, I share what I have, I offer a gentle green space that radiates peace and faith. and occasionally, a launching pad for great leaps.
as john burroughs and many others have said,
leap, and the net will appear.
I say pause here anytime you want, refuel yourself, then leap . . . and the next lilypad you land upon may be the one you've been waiting for and trying to reach for a long time.
you never know.
but know this: when you leap, though there may not be anyone with you, you are not alone.

reconciling oneself

I fear my thoughts are leading me to become a broken record, one which is stuck on the refrain,
why am I doing this?

it happened to me yesterday when I was climbing the final mile to the top of big mountain.

and then a few more times over the next several hours before I was finally descending that same climb, heading toward home.

[let me give you a bit of history regarding big mountain, because I didn't realize this until just last month, and it's possible you don't know this. (it's also possible that you do, especially if you were a better Utah History or Geography student than I.)

background: I thought that little mountain and big mountain were just names us cyclists used to describe where we rode. how egocentric can I be? and where the heck did I go to school?

truth: pioneers 160 years ago called these places little mountain and big mountain. (I have been trying to research who gave them their names and when, and cannot find those answers. if you know, please let me know!)]

back to me: I cannot always reconcile myself with myself.

I love to be clean, to wear nice clothes, and to look, if not my best, at least good. I love comfortable temperatures, say sixty-five to about seventy-nine degrees. I love to curl up on my couch and read, and I love being productive whether it be working, writing, cleaning, or just in keeping on top of everyday life.

so why in God's name do I spend hours and hours each week sweating, straining, forcing my muscles and lungs to work lightyears beyond their comfort zones, getting dirty and looking like crap and hurting, hurting, aching, unable to talk because I can barely breathe? why do I do this?
rewards, yes, there are rewards. but honestly, truthfully, I'm not quite sure why I press so hard.
the answer doesn't take long to come to me:
yes I know why I do. it's because I can.
see, I've learned that I can do these things, and if I can, well then, why not?

(see reasons listed above, which I know you already know, because you're probably not as scary crazy as me.)

I keep doing this to myself.
in the past two and a half weeks since I've returned to riding post crash/surgical recovery, I have climbed the following hills and canyons:
american fork, mt. timpanogos side and from sundance up on the other side
little cottonwood, all the way to albion basin campground
big cottonwood
millcreek
emigration, both sides
big mountain, both sides
morgan to east canyon dam
mountain dell to little dell
lamb's canyon
suncrest, both sides

in other words, just about everywhere along the wasatch front except city creek. (I'd better get there this week, hadn't I?)

now most of this has been in an effort to confirm for myself that I'm okay. that the nasty spill didn't hurt my strength or spirit. that I will not be defeated.
and the other piece of it is the big lotoja hanging out there: gotta keep moving forward, and forward draws me ever closer to the reason I train so hard all summer.

maybe next year I won't commit to lotoja.
maybe then I could ride less intensely, with less push.
maybe then I could stop asking myself why do I do this?

and then again, perhaps I will always be me: a woman who can't always reconcile herself with herself.

reasons

why I ride:

to eat more cookies.
to eat more cake.
to eat more everything.
to think.
to stop thinking.
to escape.
to strengthen my heart.
to challenge my muscles.
to breathe fresh air.
to enhance my (very strange) tan.
to stay fit.
to swoop and feel pure joy.
to experience that powerful feeling of triumph over difficulty.
to conquer the next peak.
to feel the wind on my face, the sun on my shoulders, the solid road beneath me.
and because I can.

this weekend I'll be riding many, many miles around and throughout the logan valley. this is an organized ride, the fundraiser for Multiple Sclerosis that I've been soliciting funds for over the past 2 months. about 3000 of us will be out there, sweating and panting and coasting and being thankful that we're able to do so.
I am so damn fortunate to have the health I do: I thank God regularly for the amazingly blessed path I'm traveling.
and which I intend to continue traveling upon:
spinning my legs around, feeling the sheer pleasure of canyon air on my cheeks, sweating and collecting a layer of dirt atop my skin, pushing myself, stretching my boundaries, and experiencing new heights of accomplishment with every ride.

see ya out there.