Love, Life and Puppy Dog Tales

It's funny how some memories stick with you for forever.  Some of those memories seem so very clear, it's almost like having a movie projector in your head. I have a teenage memory that stands out incredibly clear for me. It evokes potent emotions each time it comes up.  It is so vivid that when I call it up, I feel very much like I am there again. I can see the green and black zebra striped wall paper. (Who puts wallpaper in a mobile home?) I can see the molding strip that comes down ALMOST to the top of the mirror.  It stops about one inch away.  It was that way from the day my parents bought the place, and of all the flaws they found that they had the company fix, this one they missed.  So it stayed.  Yes the molding had the green and black zebra striped wall paper on it too. I can see the counter top, littered with soaps and lotions and potions all designed to make a teenage girl feel like a socially acceptable person. In case you were won...

I am still going. I started August 1st.  I have gone 274 miles. I have ridden almost 26 hours. I have climbed over 21000 feet. I am up to nearly 8 miles every day I ride. I am trying to ride 5 out of 7 days each week. My current average speed is about 11.5mph I am now at the point where each ride feels good.  Even the hard starts, and the awkward moments, and the "well crap, blew that" and have to push the bike up the hill a touch are all ending with 'that felt good' and the next morning I want to ride again. Now the days I don't ride, I have progressed from thinking "whew, glad I didn't ride" to wishing I could have ridden and truly missing riding that day. I feel stronger.  My legs have more strength in them. I can stand and put my pants on without leaning on something.  My cardiovascular capabilities are noticeably better.  I can actually run after my dog when he gives me an alert - I am truly at the point where I ...

I was going to talk about lessons after a rain.  Slippery places and puddles. My headlight playing tricks on me.  Riding in the dark.   But something happened. It was a rough start this morning.  Shortly into the ride, my bike shorts' elastic waist band folded over and rolled down.  This happens because, quite frankly, there's a bit too much fat in the middle of me and it pushes on the elastic until the elastic cries uncle and backs off.  That made me quite sad.  That had happened to me all the time in the beginning.  Every single ride.    Only recently had I noticed that it hadn't been happening at all.  In fact, on Thursday, after a particularly good ride in a week of particularly good rides, I allowed myself to think that perhaps changes were indeed happening with my body, even though the scale was reticent to share the same good news with me. When it happened again this morning, I was more than crestfall...

When I was about 10 or so, I had just figured out that my personal space - my home - could be invaded.  I don't think anything happened, at least I don't remember anything happening, to cause that realization.  It was just there. One night, with this thought fresh in my head, I went to bed. My bed was on the opposite side of the room from the door, with a good view of the door. I thought about how I wanted to go to sleep, knowing that at any moment, someone could come through my bedroom door and.... and... do what, I don't know, but they would be a stranger and they wouldn't belong and it would be bad.   So I chose to sleep facing the door.  It frightened me to think of the terrible things that could happen, but I decided that I wanted to be able to face whatever was coming head on.  So with great trepidation, I rolled onto my right side and faced the door. Eventually, I fell asleep.  Nothing bad happened. I survived. Several weeks went...

Habit: a settled or regular tendency or practice, especially one that is hard to give up. I was recently told during a leadership class that it take 12 weeks to form a new habit. Truth be told, this same instructor at a different leadership class had said the same thing, but I ignored it.  Now that I have something new that I am doing, something that I am trying to make sure that I keep doing, that 12 weeks has stuck in my head. I started riding my bike on August 1st.  So if this woman is correct, by November 1st, this bike riding thing will have become a habit.  Something that is hard to give up. It has been hard to continue.   Nearly every morning that I plan to ride, even though I try to make it a natural as possible, it is hard to get the clothes on, get the shoes on, get the helmet on, (not the gloves... I really like the gloves... they are an odd source of inner power for me), get the bike outside and go.   Those steps are all slow, awkward, and...

There are so many things in my head.  So many different ways I want to go with this post. Do I talk about control? Do I talk about my fears? Do I talk about what I want to do? Do I talk about my accomplishments? Maybe I can talk about all of it... Control. This has so many aspects in my life.  When the rest of my life is out of control, I rearrange the furniture in the house - because I have control over that.   Where it comes to light in riding is with hills.  This time however, in going down the hills.   When I was young - I rode bikes with abandon.  I don't recall having any fear of hills, up or down, at any point.  I spent summers riding to and from my sister's house and the store.  A ride fraught with hills - up and down - and curves and even some traffic issues - although a short cut through a trailer park allowed you to avoid the highway.  I sped up and down those hills without a second thought.   Even afte...

"This route is defeating."   I was talking on my ride this morning.  The route that I do 'regularly' was the subject of the conversation. As I ride it, it is hard.  At least it is hard for me.  I just get going and then I have to adjust.  I am either riding up a hill or turning down a street.  Sometimes turning down a street and going up a hill.  I have no way to get into a steady pace or rhythm.   At least that's what I said. And that's partly true. The bigger truth is that each of those hills makes me want to stop.  It gets so hard to make it up and when I am at the top, I just want to stop.I want to stop because I feel like I should make it up the hill and then just go.  Really go.  Why not?  I am past the thing that was slowing me down.  The road isn't going up any more.   But I can't just go.  I am spent.  I am unable to make my legs go round and round faster.   It takes me what feels ...