Lately J and I have been faced with problems making decisions. Not only together, as a team, but also individually. These decisions have come in all forms, big and small, life-changing and environment changing. Should we get a new car? Should we get new carpet? Should we take some time off together? How about a change in jobs? What is this uncertainty?
Part of me thinks that we are in a rut. We have lost our vision of where we are going and what we want. Perhaps all of the choices we make every day have wearied us from clearly seeing our path. We are bombarded every waking minute by ads, signs, voices, friends, family, magazines, all telling us what we should buy or how we should live. Perhaps this constant barrage has overwhelmed us.
Or, are we just more mature? In youth, we know what we want and we go get it. If we don't know what we want, we fake it. But, there is no fear of the unknown or of the "what might happen". As adults, we know the grass isn't always greener. It needs the same care and maintenance as the grass we currently have. It might also have hidden problems. Maybe we should watch for a while and see what pops up in the spring. It could be full of nasty weeds. Perhaps, it is an illusion of being greener, being better, but, in fact, our grass is better. So, we wait. Suspended in time we pause.
But, every indecision is a decision. A very passive way of choosing a way. Instead of saying, "this is what I want", we say "let's think about it". We decide to do nothing (by not deciding) and opportunities (or not) pass us by. We float along with all these decisions suspended around us like a whirlwind. Sometimes they are in our faces and we consider them. Sometimes they are behind us and we forget they are there.
Funny enough, I can't decide if this is a bad thing or not.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Training X 2
My bicycle training has begun again. J and I will be riding the Black Hills of South Dakota with ACA on September 11, 2010. Since I had to train to run my portion of the Missoula Marathon in July, I have neglected to keep up with my riding. 2 weeks ago I took a deep breath and plunged back in. This time I'm using only my new Voodoo Wazoo cross bike with no cushy suspension or low granny gears. The comfort of my bikes goes like this: cruiser- most comfortable, mountain- reasonably comfortable, cross- least comfortable. The opposite is true for speed. Until yesterday, my training rides have consisted of hopping on the path by our house and cranking as fast as I can down to Florence and back (16ish miles?). I consider the amount of effort to be the most important part of these rides. That, and getting my butt used to sitting on that saddle. I haven't been timing myself, but I feel my muscles returning to their hard state of 2007's summer. My biking shorts feel more snug even though I swear that I'm not heavier than I was back then.
Saturday, J and I decide to ride one of our training loops of 2007, but this time on our cross bikes. This is a major step in my ability to do the SD ride in 3 weeks. Leave it to me to procrastinate training. Actually, I'm very good at getting motivated to train, but this summer my body is out of whack again, leaving me feeling nothing but fatigue. This 26 mile loop starts at the famous Lumberjack Saloon, a crazy bar/restaurant 17 miles West of Lolo way, way, way off the beaten path. This is a place that can't be missed when visiting the beautiful Lolo area. There are live bands on the weekend, loads of greasy food, and always interesting folks, both working there and customers. On this particular night there must be a wedding as silver balloons lead us to our destination.
We begin our ride and it is pretty flat, easy riding. In 12 miles we begin to climb. And climb. J automatically starts to encourage me. He's been training and not struggling like I am. He tells me "you're amazing, keep it up, you're so strong,". Ordinarily, this would annoy me. Today, I eat this up. Because inside my head I'm telling myself "you can do this, keep it up, we're almost there". Telling yourself positive things really makes a huge difference. Having J tell me those things in my time of need is refreshingly nice. Thanks, babe.
I'm trying to go as fast as I can because it's not the long days of summer anymore. Darkness is coming faster than I would like. In my speed, I'm also wearing myself out faster. At one point on a hill I need to stop. J asks me if we can at least walk instead of stopping completely. Ah, he's worried too. Pushing a bike uphill is not a great task. I decide I don't want to stop anymore.
See, this is the thing, I feel that if I can't complete this loop, I probably won't be ready for our trip. It's do or die. Give it all you got! I dig deep, really, really deep. When my mind says stop, I look down at the ground in front of me and concentrate on my legs. How are they turning? What muscles are firing? What if I tweak this? Concentrate on the up instead of the down? This gets me through.
We reach the top as the sun is setting behind the mountains. This is an area that has been heavily burned. Fireweed is the first thing to grow and here it is almost as tall as I am. It is spectacular! We cruise along easily on soft roads and stop worrying about the time.
And then comes the downhill. Our bikes are stiff and we feel every bump on the way down. Also, the grade is fairly steep and our bikes are trying to zip down. We are sliding down our handlebars to grip the brakes. This makes me feel like my nose is inches from my front tire. It doesn't take long for my hands to start getting tired. We stop with five miles to go and J tells me that he can't wait for this torture to be over. Whew! I am relieved. I thought it was just me.
When we hit the main road the temperature drops and the visibility starts to get sketchy. Luckily, we don't run into any vehicles and go as quickly as we can. When we see the lights in the distance I think we do a mental high five, which becomes a real high five in the parking lot next to our truck. I will do this ride!
Saturday, J and I decide to ride one of our training loops of 2007, but this time on our cross bikes. This is a major step in my ability to do the SD ride in 3 weeks. Leave it to me to procrastinate training. Actually, I'm very good at getting motivated to train, but this summer my body is out of whack again, leaving me feeling nothing but fatigue. This 26 mile loop starts at the famous Lumberjack Saloon, a crazy bar/restaurant 17 miles West of Lolo way, way, way off the beaten path. This is a place that can't be missed when visiting the beautiful Lolo area. There are live bands on the weekend, loads of greasy food, and always interesting folks, both working there and customers. On this particular night there must be a wedding as silver balloons lead us to our destination.
We begin our ride and it is pretty flat, easy riding. In 12 miles we begin to climb. And climb. J automatically starts to encourage me. He's been training and not struggling like I am. He tells me "you're amazing, keep it up, you're so strong,". Ordinarily, this would annoy me. Today, I eat this up. Because inside my head I'm telling myself "you can do this, keep it up, we're almost there". Telling yourself positive things really makes a huge difference. Having J tell me those things in my time of need is refreshingly nice. Thanks, babe.
I'm trying to go as fast as I can because it's not the long days of summer anymore. Darkness is coming faster than I would like. In my speed, I'm also wearing myself out faster. At one point on a hill I need to stop. J asks me if we can at least walk instead of stopping completely. Ah, he's worried too. Pushing a bike uphill is not a great task. I decide I don't want to stop anymore.
See, this is the thing, I feel that if I can't complete this loop, I probably won't be ready for our trip. It's do or die. Give it all you got! I dig deep, really, really deep. When my mind says stop, I look down at the ground in front of me and concentrate on my legs. How are they turning? What muscles are firing? What if I tweak this? Concentrate on the up instead of the down? This gets me through.
We reach the top as the sun is setting behind the mountains. This is an area that has been heavily burned. Fireweed is the first thing to grow and here it is almost as tall as I am. It is spectacular! We cruise along easily on soft roads and stop worrying about the time.
And then comes the downhill. Our bikes are stiff and we feel every bump on the way down. Also, the grade is fairly steep and our bikes are trying to zip down. We are sliding down our handlebars to grip the brakes. This makes me feel like my nose is inches from my front tire. It doesn't take long for my hands to start getting tired. We stop with five miles to go and J tells me that he can't wait for this torture to be over. Whew! I am relieved. I thought it was just me.
When we hit the main road the temperature drops and the visibility starts to get sketchy. Luckily, we don't run into any vehicles and go as quickly as we can. When we see the lights in the distance I think we do a mental high five, which becomes a real high five in the parking lot next to our truck. I will do this ride!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Body Over Mind
The first ride of the season is always the most challenging. Today was no exception. Today was the first day I would ride on my new seat given to me by my husband for my birthday. This was a funny present as it is a Terry seat with a butterfly embroidered on the back. When we first looked at mountain bikes for me back in 2006, I had no idea what I was getting into. All the accessories, the materials of the forks and frames. When J saw a Canondale in our local store, his eyes lit up. It's so cool. This is the bike you want. I looked at it, seeing a bike, a foreign object with shocks and a weird one sided fork. Strange looking thing. But it had this cool embroidered butterfly on the seat. That's when I knew this was my bike. I felt like that little bit of girliness put my mind at ease. I was scared, but how scared could I be with a beautiful butterfly on my seat? See what I mean? Anyway, J orders me a bike and it arrives with an OEM bike seat. My first words when asked how I liked my new bike were "where's the butterfly?"
As previously posted, I got over my fears, I ride and I'm usually not scared to death. Last summer Voodoo had a big sale on cross bikes and J bought me a beautiful electric blue Wazoo. It's small and quick and makes me feel like I'm in charge. It's the bomb on our paved path or flat dirt roads. But its seat was nothing special, so for my birthday J bought me a Terry seat with an embroidered butterfly. This morning he put it on and we got dressed for a ride this afternoon.
I'm dressed, ready to leave and look outside. It's snowing. Sideways. Nope. I'm not going I tell J. He looks out and laughs. Wow. Blizzard. He agrees to wait and see if things improve. They do. I rise reluctantly out of my cozy chair and head outside. The ride starts off pretty well. When we reach Florence 7.5 miles later, I'm whiny. My back hurts, my ELBOWS hurt, my ass hurts (new seat needs broken in). J wants to continue down by the river. I want to head home. I look towards the mountains and see dark storm cloud pouring over towards us. I feel the snow coming, the wind. I tell J to head on his way and catch up with me on the way home. He hesitates, but complies.
I head home, into the wind, the temperature drops, the snow begins to fall and my head tells me I can't do it. How will I make it home? The whole way home I'm in my head, thinking defeatist thoughts. In spite of it all, my body feels fine. My muscles are churning, pushing me home. Back in the groove already. Why do I mistrust it? The powerhouse of my body takes me home on a breeze. The butterfly on my seat reminding me of who I have become.
As previously posted, I got over my fears, I ride and I'm usually not scared to death. Last summer Voodoo had a big sale on cross bikes and J bought me a beautiful electric blue Wazoo. It's small and quick and makes me feel like I'm in charge. It's the bomb on our paved path or flat dirt roads. But its seat was nothing special, so for my birthday J bought me a Terry seat with an embroidered butterfly. This morning he put it on and we got dressed for a ride this afternoon.
I'm dressed, ready to leave and look outside. It's snowing. Sideways. Nope. I'm not going I tell J. He looks out and laughs. Wow. Blizzard. He agrees to wait and see if things improve. They do. I rise reluctantly out of my cozy chair and head outside. The ride starts off pretty well. When we reach Florence 7.5 miles later, I'm whiny. My back hurts, my ELBOWS hurt, my ass hurts (new seat needs broken in). J wants to continue down by the river. I want to head home. I look towards the mountains and see dark storm cloud pouring over towards us. I feel the snow coming, the wind. I tell J to head on his way and catch up with me on the way home. He hesitates, but complies.
I head home, into the wind, the temperature drops, the snow begins to fall and my head tells me I can't do it. How will I make it home? The whole way home I'm in my head, thinking defeatist thoughts. In spite of it all, my body feels fine. My muscles are churning, pushing me home. Back in the groove already. Why do I mistrust it? The powerhouse of my body takes me home on a breeze. The butterfly on my seat reminding me of who I have become.
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