Blog Archives

The Bike Guy

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Craigslist is a wonderful thing. When I moved from my old house last fall to the “Treehouse”I now live in, I got rid of virtually everything I owned. The Treehouse is 400 square feet larger than our old house, two story, and surrounded by large old cedars. In fact, one grows right up through our very spacious back deck. Since the Treehouse is much newer, having been built in 2005, than our old place which was a 1970’s style 1-story ranch home desperately in need of some updating, we were loath to bring anything into it that was not also newer (at least to us). I essentially sold all our furniture on Craigslist, except for a few choice pieces, and replaced it all with items I found on Craigslist. I even spun a few extra furniture deals in the process, mixed and matched table and chair sets to create the dining arrangement that I wanted, and sold the castoffs as a set, all the while making money on the deal.

When I’m not trolling the furniture section of Craigslist, I’m scanning the bicycle section. On a number of occasions I’ve seen ads for used bikes at reasonable prices from one particular person. I’m talking about really nice bikes: Treks, Cannondales, Specialized and the like. Apparently, he finds the bikes used, then fixes them up and resells them. Of course, he also sells the Schwinns as well. I’ve even responded to a couple of his ads, the last being for a balloon tire cruiser which he’d already sold by the time I called.

The other day, we were driving through the neighborhood to drop off one of my daughter’s friends and there, next door to the neighborhood corner market (which I happen to love, by the way), I noticed that a new shop had opened up. I was especially pleased to note that this shop, of all the kinds of shops it could be, was a bike shop. I love my new neighborhood for so many reasons. The addition of a bike shop, especially a bike repair shop, right around the corner, is just one more way this place keeps getting better and better.

The Fun Wheels needs a new seat. It has needed one for a while which is one reason I haven’t ridden it much lately. Today, we decided to take the Fun Wheels down to the new bike shop and see if they could order a new seat. The shop was closed (strange for a Saturday) but here is the sign that was on the door:

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It turns out that the new bike shop is none other than the Craigslist Bike Guy and he just happened to set up shop right around the corner from the Treehouse. Needless to say, I’m pretty stoked. I plan to get to know the owner very well, and maybe one day he’ll come across that used road bike that happens to be just my size (and the right brand and color, of course) for a price I can’t say no to.

The Bike Guy is clearly starting up on a budget. He’s outgrown his home and needs a shop. He’s opened the doors, but you can tell he’s keeping his overhead low, which hopefully will come back to customers in terms of reasonable prices on repairs and used bikes. I , for one, am doing my part to help him out by spreading the word to my small neck of the woods. I’m still completely loyal to the bike shop where I purchased my Specialized Ariel Elite, which is where I ended up going today. They will try to see if they can track down a new seat for the Fun Wheels. Even so, for those small things I don’t want to go across town for, The Bike Guy might prove to be convenient.

If you live nearby you might check out The Bike Guy. Maybe he’ll have the perfect bike for you.

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Goldilocks and Life Choices

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Sometimes the decisions you make alter the direction of your life forever. We make decisions every day. Most of the time we do this without thinking and these decision don’t dramatically affect the course of our lives. At other times, the decisions are huge and they change everything: whether or not to marry, to stay in a marriage or relationship, to take or refuse a job, to move from one location to another. When we are younger, especially if we happen to be making decent money and we don’t have children, reversing the impact of any decision is much easier. As we age, we may gain seniority in jobs, making it more difficult to relocate because doing so means taking a significant pay cut and/or losing some job security. When children become part of the family, their security, well-being, and safety, among other things, must be considered.

I’ve always wanted to live in a city. Not just the suburbs, but right in the city where you walked to the corner grocery, picked up the Met from down the corner, and really had no need for a car except when you were leaving town. I made some decisions early in life which, I think, may make my dream of ever living in a city an impossibility. At least, it may be impossible until I’m too old to be able to negotiate a move and adjusting to a new lifestyle. Now that I have children and a decent job with a level of stability, the likelihood that I will ever relocate, to a city or anywhere, is next to none. In these circumstances, it is easy for the adventurous spirit to feel a bit stuck.

Sometimes, even when we make decisions that take us away from our dreams, we still make pretty good decisions though we might not realize this at the time. Sometimes, our dreams and goals change or we add other dreams and goals into the mix. We then realize how our earlier decisions, which seem to be taking us away from what we wanted actually brought us closer to where we really wanted to be anyway.

The cost of living in a city, almost any city these days, is much higher than living where I currently live. Moving would mean a job change, loss of income and job stability, all factors I’m not thrilled about encountering. Health care services available in my area are outstanding and, for the most part, it is exceptionally convenient to get around almost anywhere by bike which is something I’m committed to doing as much as possible for as long as I possibly can. It’s a far greener and less expensive mode of travel. Quite frankly, I’m also a bit unhappy with the costs of vehicles and gas. Riding my bike is my way of protesting all of this excess damage to our environment. Plus, each mile I ride makes me stronger. I’m getting in shape. I’m training for old age which isn’t for cowards. The bike helps me get around, and combines my workout with my travel and entertainment, thus saving me time. I could definitely still ride in a city and I’m no stranger to that. The convenience of cycling here, though I don’t live in a city per se, makes me feel just a little less stuck in life.

Way back in the day, I did live in a city and I did live near a city. This city experience was short-lived and I’ve never gotten the city bug out of my system. Choices I made took me away from that life. Results of those choices keep me away now. Sometimes it makes me sad to think that as I age the likelihood that I may never realize my dream of being immersed in city life. There are days, and quite a few of them, where I don’t feel the least bit despondent about this. Yesterday was one of those days.

Southern Oregon, in my opinion, has perfect weather all year round. Winters are mild and snow rarely ever falls on the valley floor so riding year round is not only possible for the fair weather rider it is enjoyable if you have the right gear. If you like snow, there’s entry to experience most years just about 40 minutes away.

It rains in the winter and spring, like most places in western Oregon, but just when we are all just about ready to be sick of the rain, the sun emerges and bathes us in golden 80-degree brilliance which is perfect cycling weather no matter what time of day.

Throughout the year, there are only a few “too hot” days and not that many “too cold” days. Most of the time it is Goldilocks weather around here: just right. For a noob cyclist healing up after radiation treatments, who is about to reach that fateful half century date on the calendar, and who is working on getting shape via bike there really is no better place to be. Sure, it’s not the big city, but I think I’m okay with that. The decisions I made back in the day which took me away from city life and the ones I’m making these days which keep me here are turning out just right.

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A Day Just Perfect For Wasting

It’s one of those early summer days, just perfect for wasting.  It’s a warm, clear, zero-percent-chance-of-rain day in Southern Oregon.  It’s the kind of day that results in a greenway full of young lovers walking hand in hand, dog owners meandering back and forth disregarding the posted “Keep to the right” admonitions, and cyclists of all types rolling through.   I should be among them. But I’m not.

Instead, I’m home…which I don’t mind…wandering listlessly around the house trying to find some project or task that can both absorb me, and for which I will have the staying power to complete.  The Significant Other is off at his part-time job. (Yes!  He finally got a steady part-time job!) All my kids are gone, for the moment.  The youngest just headed off to her dad’s for Father’s Day weekend. The college student is away at college and won’t be coming home in between the end of her term and the beginning of her internship in Portland this summer.  The recently graduated child is off being recently graduated, enjoying her friends and working.  The son will return later, at which time, I’m hoping I have the energy to go for a bike ride.  Until then, it is just me, here, alone.  I love being alone.  I love being in my home and alone.  I almost never have a problem finding something to engage in.  In fact, I am the one who is most likely to be voted “The Person Who Has Too Many Things She Wants To Do To Have To Work.”  Today, something is definitely wrong.  I find myself feeling almost…not quite, but almost…bored.

It isn’t that there aren’t plenty of projects to be done.  There are.  Even as I peck these words out on my laptop from the upper deck of my town home, I hear the S.O.’s voice in my head suggesting laundry as a top choice to become absorbed in. It is, in fact, overflowing, and it does, in fact, need to be folded and put away.  Then, there is the garage, most of which, I’ve gone through, tossing decades worth of paperwork that no longer has any meaning in my life, but which I just never took the time to toss. I’ve worked the overwhelming pile down to a box and two 2-drawer file cabinets that I must go through and organize into a useful filing system.  There are several bins of school paperwork that managed to just get tossed into bins over the course of the year rather than being filed in the appropriate binders.  (I find there are binder people and there are file people.  I am most definitely not a binder person.  Give me a file and let me flip through it, please.  Binders, for me, always end up in bins or buckets…or files. I’m far to busy to take the time to carefully open the rings, select the pages I want, get them copied, then return them.  Forget that.  I’m the type that grabs the file and plans on the go.  When I’m done, it all goes back in the file ready to be pulled out again and used next year, this time with added notes and comments about what did not work.  If I really had my way, I would have neither bins nor binders nor files…I’d have an iPad.  It would save me so much time rummaging through the paper pile.  It would save space: good-bye binders and files.  It makes sense.  It is also a pipe dream for me, right now, as I look at the fairly large amount of medical bills I have yet to pay, combined with the expenses associated with now having two children in college.)  Organizing the garage and the remaining files would be a worthwhile project for an afternoon such as this. So would reading a book, going to get some tomato plants and beginning my veggie container garden, or going for a bike ride, or working on developing any one of my many blogs which I’ve neglected over the last couple of months.

There are any number of tasks that could absorb me.  The problem comes when I begin to consider my energy level.  There’s not a task here, including this blog post, which I think I’ll have energy to complete and I hate the idea of creating yet another unfinished project in my life.  I hate unfinished projects.  Just yesterday, my Mac crashed.  It’s possibly a video card going bad.  But it is something I now have to deal with, which I can’t because it will cost money, which I just don’t have. Another unfinished project.  I hate this.  I hate how life can sometimes be going along swimmingly, in fact, perfectly, if it weren’t for all the loose ends.

Yesterday, I had my three month follow-up appointment with my surgeon.  I always enjoy meeting with this man because, besides being a personable sort, he has this way of rendering highly technical medical information into easy-to-understand packages for me. Yesterday, he took a bit of time discussing what I might expect in the months and years to come.  He suggested that I’ll probably be feeling much better in the next couple of months as far as energy levels are concerned, but that I should expect it to take a year, maybe more, before I feel like this is finally behind me.  In short, I need to give myself permission to feel tired and to rest when I just can’t go on.

I wonder…is today’s almost bored listlessness just another way the fatigue is manifesting itself?

I told you I wouldn’t have enough energy to even finish this post.  I’m going to go take a nap.

The End

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We usually think of it as a bad thing; the end of a romance, a good book, a great concert, or fun vacation. Sometimes, even though they can be emotionally laden, endings can be positive. They can provide long awaited closure to the loose ends in life. They can be the end of stressful events, situations or unresolved dilemmas in life. Endings aren’t always a bad thing.

This has been a year of transitions or, more accurately, conclusions, for me. Endings. Finales. Mostly, life just goes on from one phase to the next, from one event, day or season to the next, without much fanfare. This year, I’ve noticed an unusual amount of endings to things that have been going on in my life, some of them for years. Things I’ve been working on cleaning up and moving off my plate are going away and, with them, the accompanying stress. I find it interesting that while 2012 has been an absolutely disappointing year, at least I can say that a great deal of the stressful chapters in my life are closing.

Since May of last year, I have been working on resolving the situation with my home which has become an overwhelming financial and physical burden for me. The tax break was nice, the hedge against inflation nice, the stress not so nice. Also, the fact that it gave me a negative net worth wasn’t exactly cheery either. I am pleased to note, that this chapter should be concluded by the end of July. That takes a huge amount of stress off my plate. I can’t say I’m disappointed. This signifies closure on one of the most unhappy and nightmarish periods of my life. For many reasons, I’m eager to say goodbye to this home and all it symbolizes.

My second oldest child is graduating from high school this year. We are in the midst of all the last minute preparations to close yet another chapter in our lives. For both of us it is an ending and a beginning of new things; new ways of being with each other as she adjusts to the demands and responsibilities of adulthood. While, she is not necessarily going far away to go to college, her role as a college student and theatre major will mean that she is, for the most part, not around. She will be making more of her own decisions and this reality ends my role in her life as it has been until now.

Another school year is winding down. This is always a bittersweet experience and this year it is even more so. It’s been a bumpy year. While it couldn’t be helped, I do wish it could have been different. I can’t change it now. 11 more days and this school year is a wrap.

For the last seven years, I’ve been driving around an older SUV. I believe the life of this vehicle is nearing an end. When I look at the cost of insurance for my 18-year-old who drives it now, combined with the cost of gas, I am certain that my days of driving any SUV around are nearly over. In fact, this brings me to recognize a fun new beginning in my life: that of transitioning from the car as my primary mode of transportation to the bicycle.

It took me almost the entire year to figure out a routine and how to make the 2.95 mile commute to work feasible, but for the last month, I’ve successfully commuted by bike to work, then to radiation treatments, then out for some riding time, then back home most days of the week. This has been wonderful for so many reasons. Obviously, the savings in gas costs is significant. It also means that I am able to get a 20+ mile ride done at least 5 days a week. I no longer have to worry about fitting a ride in after school or dinner or before it gets dark. I’m looking forward to the day when I can say goodbye to the old SUV for good, replace it with a more fuel efficient economy car then drive only when absolutely necessary. This chapter of car insurance hikes, exorbitant gas prices and spendy car repairs is one chapter I can’t turn the concluding page on fast enough.

The best news this week? Monday, I went in for my radiation treatment thinking I had 11 treatments left. I was informed that I have only five treatments left and, if I double up on one day, I will be finished with treatments on Friday. So now, at the time of this writing, I have only two treatments left. My short, little journey with cancer diagnosis and treatment is ending. I’m going to miss the techs, the bike commute across town, and the great routine I had worked out, but I can’t wait for my skin to heal, my energy to return and summer to finally and officially arrive.

Some goodbyes are just good.

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A Hee Haw Life

This week reminded me of one of those That’s Good, That’s Bad” comedy skits from the variety show Hee Haw I used to watch as a child. The routine begins with one person asking the other how things are going. The person responds to the question with a statement about a disastrous event that just happened. The first person reacts with horror, “Oh no! That’s bad!” The other person then replies with “No, that’s good because…..”, and he states something good that came about because the bad thing happened. Then this first person says, “Oh, well, that’s good,” to which the person then mentions something bad that happened as the result of the good thing happening. This elicits the response, “Oh that’s bad!” and so the skit goes to its humorous conclusion.

This was my life this week.

First up, I returned to work (that was good). But the ex also decided that instead of bringing our daughter home according to our agreement, he was going to keep her. Without planning ahead and indefinitely. (For the record, his reasoning for doing this was not so off the wall, but the manner in which he did it was what created the stress.  Stress is not what I need as I’m recovering from surgery and returning to work.) That was bad. This did, however, give the Significant Other, and I some time together without the kids around. That was a little unexpected treat. I was able to get the family paperwork and finances done, also good. But because of the Ex’s bully tactics, I decided to seek out the advice of my attorney. That event gets mixed reviews. I love talking with her, because beyond being a fascinating person, she is so very reasonable, and has a great deal of life wisdom. The downside: it cost money at a time of the month where things begin to get tight for us. (Sure wish the SO could find decent paying work!)

On the way down to another appointment I had this week, something terribly wrong happens to my car. I barely get it parked, call the SO to come have a look-see and head up to my appointment. The SO gets the hood opened but has no idea what is wrong. Of all his fantastic qualities, vehicle mechanic is not on the list. Miraculously, a mechanic walks by, takes a look, and diagnoses a blown water pump. That’s really bad! Fortunately, my mechanic was able to come get the car and get it to his shop. He was able to have the vehicle repaired in less than 24-hours and $466 later, I have my car back. He was able to allow me to pay over two months, which definitely eases the strain that an unexpected mechanical problem can place on the budget.

In the midst of all this, after going back and forth with the ex about what exactly our divorce document means and him changing things at will, I had no confirmation from him that this self-appointed parenting time he’s taken the liberty of giving himself will ever end. I finally received confirmation and a pickup time and location is decided. 12 hours later, I receive texts from him wanting to bring the daughter back early. A full 24-hours early. It’s crazy-making but I’m certainly not complaining that I get to have my daughter back for which, it now turns out, will be all of Spring Break.

As all the rest of this is happening, I’m plugging along at my first week back after surgery, too exhausted to work out each evening. It’s also raining, so I can’t ride. In the midst of it all, the SO gets the word that his teaching credential was finally granted (a process that took almost an entire year) and the very next day, he receives a job offer at a wonderfully classy dining establishment (read tips and discounts on great food, ca-ching!). He can substitute and work this job so he will have work all year long. Very, very good news. He’s been out of work for a very long time.

Yesterday was the last day of work before Spring break, I packed the family up and headed north to pick up the oldest to bring her home. We planned a special night at Chuck E. Cheese. It is, after all, the closest thing to Disneyland in state and probably safer too, since I’m not sure my stomach can handle the rides like they used to.

For those who are not familiar with Chuck E. Cheese, let me explain briefly this bizarre dining experience.  Chuck E. Cheese is an arcade place where parents spend a small fortune for a bunch of gold-type coins imprinted with a rodent’s smiling face. These tokens are then used to play the arcade games which, in turn, earn the kids tickets.  These tickets can then be traded for prizes at the Cheesy Store.  The pizza is just pretend.  I believe it is really cardboard masquerading as pizza.

For my oldest kids (21, 18, and 16), Chuck E. Cheese was an opportunity to revisit some of their quickly fading childhood.  My youngest was ecstatic.  The SO was the most amusing. As serious as he sometimes comes off as being, it was surprising to see him enter into the fun. At one point, I heard the girls calling my name and I look over to see him on a mechanical horse race game. It was crazy hilarious to see this guy, nearly 50, on an arcade horse ride game. I do have a video, but out of respect, I won’t post it.

Chuck E. Cheese, however, was not such a good plan for me. Looking back, scheduling an evening at Chuck E’s after teaching 4th graders who’ve checked out for Spring Break (that’s not bad, but it isn’t easy) and driving 3 hours (usually not so bad, but my body was in pain) was probably taking on a bit much just two weeks after surgery. By the time we arrived at Chuck E’s, I was feeling pretty ragged. By 9:00, I was in pain and exhausted. And we still had a 3 hour ride home. My kids’ enthusiastic gratitude helped ease the pain, but by the time we got home my body was screaming in protest at the discomfort of the crowded Durango seating.  I was exhausted. Probably not the smartest thing to run myself into the ground like that.

This morning, I  planned to attend a ride with the local Velo Club. It would have been my first ride with a group larger than three. I’d been looking forward to it all week.  As my head hit the pillow last night at nearly 1:00 a.m., I decided not to set my alarm and take my chances with waking up in time for the ride. Upon waking this morning, I felt energized…for about three minutes.  I gave it my best shot.  I actually got up, got in my gear, checked the weather, then checked email. Due to the “iffy” weather they cancelled the ride. Personally, under normal circumstances,  I would have ridden in this kind of weather anyway, because I try to ride whenever I can except in pouring rain or when it is so cold there might be ice on the ground. Today, I took the excuse offered by the wimpy weather, the cancelled ride, and decided to try listening to my energy level by making today an easy, lazy day.

That was such a good decision,  I might just try it again tomorrow.

Party In The Surgical Ward

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This last Monday I headed backed to one of the local hospitals for my second excision biopsy. There were several names this particular procedure has been called and, since each time a nurse came in to talk to me or polk me with a needle or I-V,I had to repeat what procedure I was having done, I got really good at pronouncing all the hard words. I was in for my second wire-isolated lumpectomy…except what we are dealing with are not lumps…they are micro calcifications. They are so tiny they cannot be seen by the naked eye, thus the wire. The surgeon has to do his best, by going into the body guided only by my radiology images of the wire placement and of the wire itself. To make matters even more interesting, the new section they discovered is resting deep at the back of any tissue, right on my pectoral muscle. All this means is that I was up for a day of good times at the hospital. I was,if nothing else, pleased to receive my second pair of purple slipper socks! This time, at least I knew what to expect. It shouldn’t be too bad. Or so I thought.

Since I knew I was in for a bit of a wait, I decided to take advantage of the fab new hospital fashion they have going these days. Gone are the old threadbare cotton hospital gowns that cover nothing and expose everything. They now have paper hospital gowns. That’s right, folks, save a cotton plant, kill a tree.

The nice thing about these paper gowns is that they are lined and they do provide good coverage even for my large, lumpy, old carcass. The best part is that these gowns come with their own climate control. They just hook into this shop-vac type tube which hooks into something behind the bed somewhere. Then you turn on the tube and set the temperature for either warming or cooling, as you desire. Last time, I wasn’t quite looking forward to the process like I was this time, so I didn’t take full advantage of all my hospital accommodations. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I hooked up the shop vac and turned it on full force.

Now, I’m sure this situation is just ripe for euphemism and innuendo, but since this is a family friendly forum I’ll leave the strangeness of this type of modern fashion device to your imagination. I will say this, the air from shop vac going into the gown was not in the least bit flattering to my figure and it did absolutely nothing for my already very fragile body image. It wasn’t long before I was pulling the hose out of the gown and begging the nurse for an early dose of sedatives. In all honesty, I can see some value to these gowns. At minimum, if one were incontinent, they could use the warm air from the hose to dry things out before their surgery. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.

The best part of the day was when I got to go to imaging. The same techs were there this time that worked on me last time, so we got all the small talk out of the way. It wasn’t long before they were telling me their darkest secrets. Okay, I’m just kidding about the dark secrets part.

If you’ve ever had a mammogram or have had one described to you, then all I can say is that this wire placement process was like having the mammogram of all mammograms and having it last for.ev.er. Imagine having any certain tender part of your anatomy stretched and twisted and smashed between two flat plates of glass while you strike some freakishly bizarre America’s Next Top Model pose. Then imagine Dr. Radiologist has to leave the room to consult with Dr. Surgeon in order to determine the best wire placement possible while you hold that pose, in compression, the entire time. Then imagine they are discussing this situation for nearly 15 minutes. It may have been more, I stopped worrying about it when my arms went numb.

Now, lest you think I am complaining and that I’m implying in any way that any of the fantastic medical professionals who treated me were anything less than incredibly skilled and competent, let me assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. I’m very pleased with the care I’ve received all along the way. This instance being no exception. The most stressful aspect of my kind of cancer is getting ALL of it. Remember, my surgeon, who truly is amazing, needs that wire to be accurate and he needs accurate images. They were actually discussing whether I needed two such wires, and if so, what was going to be the least obnoxious and most effective method of inserting said wires. My attitude about this is “Please take all the time you need and while you’re at it, how about another round of those sedatives?” The professionals handling my treatment are so compassionate and wonderful. They truly were concerned for me and my comfort. (I must have really looked ridiculous!) All I can say is that I think everyone is going to be very pleased when medical science develops “softer” means of getting images of all our softer body parts.

In any event, while I was in the room attempting my pose for my audition for America’s Next Top Model Senior Edition, my eye wandered over to the window sill. Lo, and behold, there on the windowsill was a spatula. Okay, now that was weird. Well, me being me, I just had to ask. I just couldn’t let that much weirdness go by without comment. Again, because this is an attempt at a family friendly forum I’m not at liberty to give you all the specifics. Yes, they do use the spatulas in the radiology department. No, they are not making cookies. I did get the specifics from the techs, and the story was so fascinating I didn’t even notice that the needle and wire had been inserted. While, I can’t exactly say that part of my day was over before I knew it, I can say that great fun was had by all. Furthermore, I now know that the kitchen spatula is truly a multipurpose tool.

Of course, after imaging is when the real fun begins. That’s when I get to meet up with the anesthesiologist and plan my cocktail for the afternoon party in the surgical wing. I was fortunate enough to have the same Dr. Cocktail as the last time, and since last time was such a great trip with no nausea on the back end, I opted for the same recipe. I was good to go.

Moments later, I was being wheeled into surgery. I remember greeting everyone (it was a big party they set up just for me) and someone making a comment about the surgeon’s choice of music. They strapped the massaging leg warmers on me and as that I-V cocktail began to take effect, I remember closing my eyes and going to my happy place. I was riding. Effortlessly. Fast. Free. On that $8k S-Works Specialized road bike I saw in the shop this last weekend. I wasn’t dreaming about work this time, like I did last time. The wind in my face felt fantastic! The climbs were effortless. Life was good!

And the next thing you know, the party’s over. They’re handing me my regular clothes, telling me not to make any major decisions or bathe for the next 48-hours and sending me off with nothing but a big patch on my chest and prescription for pain meds. Kinda makes me wonder if it was something I said.

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The Way To Start A Week

I lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico for a brief couple of years in the early ’90’s.  During that time I fell in love with the Southwest and with Byrd Baylor’s books, The Way To Start A Day, being one of my favorites.  This last weekend, due to school budget cuts, ended up being a three-day weekend.  Since we had Monday off and since rain was forecast for later that afternoon, the Significant Other and I decided to try something new.  We avoided the ease and predictability our beloved greenway and ventured forth on the open road. It was an excellent choice for so many reasons.  I’ve documented our ride in words and pictures, with Baylor’s book as my inspiration.  I’m calling this The Way To Start A Week.

 


The way to start a week

is to get up early on Monday morning while others sleep,

and greet the sunrise with a smile and a cup of coffee; cream, no sugar.

Revel in in the cloudless blue of the early morning sky,

feel the chill March morning air,

inhale the fresh scent of dew and cedars.

Give thanks for being alive and having the ability to enjoy it.

Take your time dressing, but not too much time, the day awaits.

Find your favorite bike shorts and

slip on the Bontrager tights that were well worth

the hundred bucks you spent on them.

Slip into the cold weather gear given to you by a friend

who no longer cycles, and be glad for her again,

since she saved you hundreds

and extended your riding season significantly.

Fill the water bottle,

grab the camera,

select the playlist,

and with your favorite riding buddy, find a road you haven’t traveled before.

Venture forth.

As you ride, be glad that you can.

Even if it is cold.  Even if it is hard, with the cold air biting through your

Balaclava, freezing your nasal passages and numbing your fingertips through gloves.

After about a mile stop,

take some pictures,

and take off the first outer layer.

Things heat up fast on two wheels.

 

After about 4 miles, stop for more pictures, a water break and to take more pictures.  You’re in no hurry.

Decide to head to a historical old town.

It isn’t far now.

You’re over halfway there and feeling good.

The hills that you could climb a year ago are nothing to you now

You’re stronger and less fearful.

The occasional car whizzing by no longer intimidates you.

You can do this.

And you enjoy it.

 Upon entering the town

select a place to enjoy a leisurely lunch while gazing out the window at passersby.

Laugh and enjoy the fact that you have overcome

caring about how you look in public places when

wearing padded pants

and sporting helmet hair, though you still quickly check

the rear view mirror of the nearest car to make sure

you don’t have bugs in your teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

During your meal, you laugh and smile,

enjoying delicious sandwiches with thirst-quenching beverages.

The miles make them taste all the better.

You observe the retired ladies, dressed up for lunch…

they must be in their 70’s or 80’s.

You think of your grandmother, who always dressed up

even to go to the grocery store,
It’s not a given, but you’re on the right path.and you hope you live long enough to do the same.

Anything can happen…
unexpectedly…

so you decide to live life…

to the fullest of your ability and today is part of that plan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the way home, you skip the easy road,

the one you rode in on,

and you opt for the one ahead

that sports a rather long hill.

You take it.

You make it.  And you’re not even riding your fastest bike.

A year ago, you had to walk up stuff less daunting than this.

Not this time.

You feel the burn…

you inhale each breath and

experience the pounding of your heart

growing stronger with each rotation of your pedals.

Nothing feels better.

You’re healthier than you were.

You’re happier than ever.

You are your own person.

 

At the top, you celebrate this realization.

You take in the valley you call home.

The rest of the ride is almost entirely

a straight drop down to your doorstep. 

It’s Monday.

You’re riding in the right gear,

no matter what the road

and it is an exhilarating adventure.

This, you whisper to yourself as you ride up to your home,

is not just how you start a week…

It’s how you live a life.

 

New Year’s Resolutions, Revised

I’m a great one for setting goals and New Year’s Resolutions are no exception.  Back in the day, I’d write them down making sure they were measurable and achievable.  Most of the time, back in the day, I was able to realize all  these goals I so dutifully recorded.  Things sure have changed. Oh, I still set goals, alright, but with each passing year, the goals seem more difficult to achieve. I’m lucky if I can set one priority a year and make it happen.

In 2010, I made it my goal to purchase my bike.  I achieved that goal.

In 2011, it was my goal to put a thousand miles on my bike.  I didn’t meet this goal until February of 2012, but I got close. That was good enough.

This year, my priority, is losing 50 pounds by my 50th birthday, which is in June. My mantra has been “50 Less By 50.”

Well, it was my priority, until, the first week of January.

Sometimes life has a way of circumventing the most noble objectives.

In brief, my life was clicking along just great.  In December, I was called back to have further images taken after a routine mammogram revealed some areas of concern.  On January 6, I found myself lying prone while I endured what I now know is a stereo-tactic needle biopsy.  On Valentine’s Day, I was in the hospital for a wire-isolated lumpectomy, the results  of which revealed ductile carcinoma in situ, or DCIS…cancer.  At the time of writing, I’m awaiting an additional surgery which will likely be followed up with radiation.

No chemotherapy.

No free boob job.

I’m not contagious.

And…given that DCIS is completely curable…I’m likely not going to die.  At least, not right now, from this.

My overriding emotion these days?

This is really messing with my 50 Less By 50 plan.

Actually, that’s not entirely true.  My overriding emotion is gratitude.  You see, cancer, in particular breast cancer, is not the death sentence it used to be. Even so, cancer, really is no laughing matter.  I know this.  I know people who’ve suffered and died from some form of cancer.  I have immediate family members who have suffered through cancer.  It is not a pretty nor is it humorous and were it not myself involved, I’d definitely refrain from the gallows humor.  I’ll go off on how early detection is critical, and how women should absolutely make sure they keep up on their exams at a later time, but right now I’d just like to take a moment to be grateful.

Cancer caught me by surprise, and as any potentially life-threatening disease will do, it has forced me to re-prioritize my life.  Yes, I still have my 50 Less By 50 Plan as a priority, but somehow it just isn’t the most important thing these days.  In the last three months, I’ve learned a great deal about breast cancer and some of the approaches we now have available to treat and cure it. That I live in a day and age when I can benefit from so much research and the medical advancements made just in my lifetime, doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the many, many things I am grateful for.

As I take the next step in this interesting journey through 2012, each day I find myself revising my New Year’s Resolutions.  50 Less By 50 is still a priority, in fact, even more so since exercise and healthy eating reduce one’s risks.  But, if I don’t quite make it by my birthday, or if I just need to allow myself some time to rest, I’m going to give myself permission to do it.

Two days after my surgery, I was on my bike.  Of course, it was inside on a trainer.  I made it two miles, in just under 10 minutes before I just couldn’t go any further.  Two days before my surgery, I’d completed a ride that logged me almost 40 miles for the week.  Yeah.  This thing is really messing with my workout plans and my riding goals.

I just have to let that be alright for now.

I am going to make it.

 

Crashing

Over the years, I’ve been involved in a couple of car accidents and several cycling accidents.  From the time I wrecked a friend’s car in high school because I wasn’t wearing corrective lenses because it was before I was diagnosed with needing them, to the several fender benders I’ve had in my own vehicles over the years to the bicycle accidents I’ve lived to tell about, each accident has its own story; its own specifics. While the circumstances surrounding each crash differ, there are some similarities with each incident. I think there are some lessons I can learn about each of these crashes in my life.

But wait, there’s more

Life, Like Coffee…and Bikes

00399231I used to take it black; pure, untainted, full strength, undiluted.  I began this habit back in college; back in those days of choosing and learning to choose. Back then I chose my daily schedule, I chose my purchases, I chose my food, my friends, my fun.  Like my coffee, I chose life pure, untainted, full strength, undiluted. But wait, there’s more