do it anyway

some things just take time;

they say that nothing good comes easily.

and that we appreciate it more when we've earned it.

and then there's greg lemond's comment that it never gets easier, you just go faster.

these things boil down--for me--to the realization that effort eventually pays off, though it might not always result in what you think might happen.

for the longest time I thought I could keep riding/training/working and eventually find it to be easier.  but greg's right:  it never gets easier because of that constant inner drive to improve.  yes I'm stronger, yes I'm faster, yes I have increased endurance:  but I still work as hard.  it's only easier when I slow down .  .  . which I don't do very often, because .  .  . of that constant inner drive to improve.

which is the same thing that entices me to try new things.

I've been "working" for a couple years on my balancing skill.

I want to ride my bike--like the flobots sing--with no handlebars.  

and I am now calling this an emerging skill.

I am getting better.

slowly.

the trick someone taught me was to sit on the rear part of my saddle--scooting back a bit--and sit tall:  this helps.  it's core strength, but it's also the position.  and now, I'm better than I used to be.  I can do it for blocks at a time (if it isn't too gusty windy) and can even curve (gently) with a bending road.

woo hoo!

I'm thinking this skill may have taken time to learn, and will still take time to perfect, but it is getting easier.

as is eating while riding, and drinking.  (although I am experimenting with a GU "flask" instead of those pesky little foil packets that leave me with tiny strips I have to shove deeply into a pocket and terribly sticky fingers---and I dropped a water bottle during last saturday's race, yikes.)

and cleaning my chain.

some things do get easier.

and some things never do.

and sometimes the results of all our work, all our actions, all our planning and scheming and efforts, take us some place we never thought we'd be.

sometimes you just can't know, so my advice is this:

follow your heart, never give up, and just do it, anyway.  

to balance oneself on a bicycle

as one who has been practicing hands-free riding and hovering at stop signs/lights, balance is an ever-present theme in my life.

and not just on a bike.

balance between work and pleasure, between austerity and gluttony, between expectations and acceptance, between needs and wants and desires and realities.  

balanced is a nice place to be.

it's a place from which one can be patient, accepting, calm, tolerant.

and thus I'm passing along a few words attributed to helen keller (think about that for a moment after you've read the quote, and reflect upon your own fears and fearlessness) which made me glow;  I hope they do the same for you.

toleration is the greatest gift of the mind;  it requires the same effort of the brain that it takes to balance oneself on a bicycle.

namaste.

1895, 2012

having just returned from durango, where I rode my bike--along with thousands of others--to silverton, colorado (incorporated in1885), I thought I'd share some thoughts about bicycling written about the same time silverton was coming to life.  some things remain fairly constant, don't they?


I began to feel that myself plus the bicycle equaled myself plus the world, upon whose spinning wheel we must all learn to ride, or fall into the sluiceways of oblivion and despair.  That which made me succeed with the bicycle was precisely what had gained me a measure of success in life -- it was the hardihood of spirit that led me to begin, the persistence of will that held me to my task, and the patience that was willing to begin again when the last stroke had failed.  And so I found high moral uses in the bicycle and can commend it as a teacher without pulpit or creed  She who succeeds in gaining the mastery of the bicycle will gain the master of life.


frances e. willard, how I learned to ride the bicycle, 1895

durango, land of . . . cacti

durango, colorado.
I pictured a dry, rather barren and desolate corner of colorado.  cactus.  big trees along the river, dust everywhere.  cowboys.  you know.
and then I went there, and fell in love.

I'm heading to durango this weekend for the ironhorse classic, a bike "race" (I don't race) from durango to silverton.  silverton is a tiny mining town a little less than 50 miles from durango, up two mountain passes and down into a little valley.
I first visited durango 3 years ago when a friend convinced me to ride the ironhorse classic, this ride that begins the same time as a train sets off for the same destination, the goal being to beat the train.
I haven't managed to beat the train, but the two times I've ridden this I've managed to enjoy the beauty more than enough to combat the pain.  and my visions of a desert land were completely, totally wrong ~ where did that vision come from?

durango is nestled in a groove in the land, thick with trees and rounded hillsides, a bustling little town full of personality and, well, trees.
I can picture myself living there in a small, gabled cabin in the trees, writing, gazing out on the misty valley as the steam rises from the river.

so I'm off to race (I don't race) the train again, in a beautiful plot of country in southwestern colorado.  but shush, don't tell anyone how pretty it is there, because I don't want them to get to my little cabin in the trees before me.
just tell them it's dry and barren, desolate, full of prickly cacti.

life quotes

I often misread quotes.
I see what I want to see, and only later--usually while doing further research into the quote--do I discover that I've misread it.
example:
this great quote by leigh standley (creator of 'curly girls' cards/gifts) caught my eye:
love imperfectly with great delight.
I added it to my signature line on my emails I liked it so darn much.
it wasn't until years later that I found the real quote to be
live imperfectly with great delight.

I like my version better.

and then this morning I saw an ansel adams quote on the library website. I thought, oh, this is perfect, it captures the essence of life, and I can use it in what I want to say here today:
in wisdom gathered over time I have found that every experience is a form of explanation.
ah.
yes.
in researching the quote, I found it to actually be this:
in wisdom gathered over time I have found that every experience is a form of exploration.

well, I like my version better.
(yes, the library website stated it correctly; I just saw what I wanted to see.)

I find that my experiences explain much to me.
it's possible they're also explorations.

but on to today's subject:
my experience of the salt lake century, where every year thousands of cyclists flood the road: cyclists who ride fast and well, cyclists who ride slowly and well, cyclists who don't ride much at all, cyclists who have a little to learn about road etiquette, cyclists who are gracious, cyclists in a hurry, cyclists who are grumpy, cyclists who are kind and awesome and generous and funny and just about every other adjective you can think of.
and also on the road are motorists, motorists who come in a hundred different varieties just like cyclists.

my experience during this event explained a great deal about human behavior.
we are all innately egocentric, we are unable to understand (and are often oblivious of) others' perspectives, we are quick to criticize others for things we ourselves do, we jump to judgement, we're not all gifted with the same strengths and abilities, we are desperately impatient, and we can never truly see what we look like from behind (literally) or from outside of ourselves, and possibly most important of all: we are almost all of us beautiful, loving people who simply want to be loved, respected, and be part of something greater than just ourselves.

this was all made clear to me as I passed and was passed by other cyclists, as cars whipped around us on narrow roads, as I heard comments float by and offered some myself, as I sat on the grass at a rest stop and listened to the chatter, as I joked and interacted with friends both old and new.
we all have different journeys in this world, and none of them are races. there are no competitions. there are no prizes for getting to the end first. in fact, I think we're supposed to take our time, be peaceful, play well with others, explore a little along the way, and, oh yes, most importantly of all...
love imperfectly with great delight.

106 miles

rode the salt lake century today.
have many things to say about it but no time, as I spent my afternoon making six cake layers in rainbow colors for my daughter's birthday cake, and now I'm getting ready to take off for a wedding.
so . . .
catch ya tomorrow!

may 17

ok, I know, I messed up.
first, I posted on the 15th, forgetting that my new guideline is to only post on prime number days.
second, I didn't post yesterday the 17th, which is a prime number day.

on the 15th I simply forgot my new rule.
on the 17th I plain old ran out of time.

and part of why I ran out of time is that I had to make two trips to the bike shop: to take my rear wheel in for a hub repair, and then later to go pick it up. WHICH is a beautiful thing and has earned the crew at CONTENDER BICYCLES on 9th south in SLC my undying gratitude!
bike shop boys are slammed this time of year, with everyone wanting to get their bikes in shape for riding.
and contender's clientele comprises a lot of serious riders who probably have the same intensity as I do about not wanting to give up a bike for more than half a day.
what, leave it overnight? are you kidding? how can I ride the next morning? I need it!
so I was thrilled when shawn took my wheel, my name, my phone number, and called me three hours later to tell me it was ready to go.

I don't always choose contender: I have a favorite bike shop boy at BINGHAM downtown, and my newest tire came from BEEHIVE on 15th and 15th, but as this wheel came from contender I thought I'd let them fix it. I'm all for loyalty, but there are just too many good shops--and people--around this town.

but the main reason I ran out of time yesterday is that it was my daughters' birthday: my babies are now 16 years old. 16!!! we won't talk about what that makes me.

so, sometimes I forget my guidelines, and sometimes the rest of my life takes priority over posting. work, bike repairs, children, cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, oh, and actually getting on the bike and riding.
with my newly stabilized hub and rear wheel,
which is ever so nice.
thanks again, shawn.