Category: Cycling

Deana1 Comment

“You get the idea – one thing at a time, one day at a time and all of a sudden, bam, you’re awesome.” — I’m all for awesome. I really like reading this guy. I’m not sure whether or not I’ve ever shared him with you guys before, so I am today — no matter what your struggle is, stay in today — you can do anything today. Deana

bgddyjim's avatarFit Recovery

Are you fat? Pleasantly plump? Cheerfully chubby?  I would classify myself, twelve years ago “almost overweight”.  I decided to get fit just before s#!+ got ugly.  Have you ever been bitten by the bug to lose the weight, to eat right and to finally get healthy, only to fail after a week and fall back into your old ways because it’s just too tough?  Hell, I couldn’t do all of that at once.

Worse yet, have you started to exercise a bit, start with a daily half hour walk, only to find two months later that you’ve lost all of a pound and a half, lose heart and quit?

I am the toughest sissy you’re going to meet. I’ll ride 200 km (125 miles) on my own just to see if I can do it. I’ll ride just as hard as I can in a pace line just to see…

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Music Monday: eye of the tiger, ala the pedal pusher society

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I think this video is hilarious and I’m kinda diggin the Girl Power Groove thing they got going on  here.

I’m under the weather at the moment so I thought I’d catch up on my blog reading — I was starting to get scared again while studying group rides and what counts as an acceptable speed. I needed the levity. These gals are having fun and you know, I kinda think that’s how it should be.

And then another cycling video just for fun.

 

I’m Riding in the Tour de Cure: Go Team Phoenix Rising

Deana2 Comments

photo (2)Okay, I know I said I wouldn’t post while under the influence of cold meds, BUT I have got to share this with you guys. It’s official. My group of friends have all agreed (mostly all anyway) to ride with me in the Tour de Cure this year for ADA. I rode alone last year — yes they sent me out as the scout. I came back alive and so they’ve decided if I didn’t die, neither will they. That and the sub-culture at my husband’s office is one of physical fitness and it seems everyone and their grand-kids signed up this year —

Because I didn’t know what to expect, I only rode 10 miles last year — this year I’ve signed up for 25. All road, no trail that I know of . YIPES. (put paper sack over face, breathe deep, I can do this!)  Most of the team will hang at the 25 mark because this is their first ride for ADA. My base is presently at about ten miles, all trails, zero road. I need to up that over the next ten weeks or so in order to get ready — and ready I will be. I have to be ready, I’m the team captain for heaven sake. I mean how would it look if the captain dies mid route?

It would look bad.

Granted these riders are pros. They know what they are doing. They really just needed me to co-ordinate everything for them. I’m like the Wedding Planner only cooler. All they have to do is train and show up — I got the rest.

I have not ridden 25 or more consecutive miles on a bike since that day back in 1989 where Jeff (my then boy friend, now husband) tried to kill me. I still did not know my way around Chicago so when he suggested we take a “fun bike ride” from Niles IL to the Botanical Gardens, I had no idea how far it was.

I spent the night sleeping on the floor of my apartment with every muscle in my body seizing up because that was where I landed when we got back and getting up was not possible. I couldn’t walk right for a week. I should add, I was also in my best physical shape possible, weighing in at a whopping 124 pounds. I ran cable and installed PBX systems for a living. I rocked. And I still almost died.

And here I am ready to do it again — some 24 years later. HA This time, I’ll be prepared. This time I’m training. This time I have to because I don’t weigh 124 lbs anymore. My “diet” took a fun turn in December and January while I blew off some much-needed steam. (Translated, I decided to throw a major temper tantrum) I may have over enjoyed my newly discovered friends: Zacapa Rum,  and Glen’s Fiddich and Livet, My Irish Friend Jameson and my new favorite girlfriend Miss Tequila Rose with a splash of Baileys. I also discovered yummy smoothies made with avocado, cucumbers and coconut milk that probably pack half a days calories per pinch as well. While my calorie intake from food remained at 1,300-1,500, I’m afraid my beverage consumption offset that terribly.

Explaining to my doctor on Monday why I didn’t lose the ten pounds he suggest I lose two months ago was awkward and embarrassing.  He used the word “moderation” and I’m like okay, yeah, probably a good idea at this point. Alcohol has a lot of empty calories and I can either continue to be a brat or I can suck it up, find my resolve to get back in shape and start again. I’m not a heavy drinker, never have been, I just didn’t pay attention to the caloric intake and I’m paying for it with my lack of weight loss.

My temper tantrum is over.

I used to be an athlete.

I used to be a model.

I’m neither of those things today.

I’m not used to having to work at it. At least I didn’t consider it work when I was competing at Shaolin and Tai Chi. It was just fun.

Guess I need to learn how.

Now is as good a day as any.

CC_TourDeCure_190x190 Click on the Photo and Support My Ride!

Where Did She Go?

Deana2 Comments

ill It would appear that some lucky bug has come to roost at my house this month. It arrived just before Valentines Day and like a bad guest refuses to clean up after itself and leave already. I have learned from past experience that blogging while under the influence of cold and/or pain medication just causes the potential for restraining orders as well as evidence in mental health hearings. Granted I’ve written some of my best work while under the influence with my no holds barred, Can I Keep My Doctor if I said he followed me home bit being the best of them all– and of all 700 something blog stories I’ve written, THAT would be the one to go viral before I came to enough to remove it from the blogosphere.

I promise to be back at the joke writing, and whining about my lack of weight loss and having to explain to docs who use the word “moderation” in regards to my diet that I believe 1,300 calories a day is about as moderate as I want to get thank you very much so quit yer yapping at me..soon enough.

And if by some chance really bad poetry makes it way here before I am well, just know that I blame the NyQuil and hope to delete it once I come to.

Thank you for understanding.

 

Excuse me whilest I lie here and bleed

Deana12 Comments

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My money and I have parted ways. It’s been a horrible breakup really. Dollar bills flying out the window, while I sit on the floor crying, begging them to come back. I make false promises of goodness and mercy, but they don’t listen. They know I’m lying. Truth is if I could hang on to enough of them, I’d just hand them over to my hair dresser anyway — my roots are showing, I’m desperate. I’m almost willing to go without food if it means staying a red head for a little bit longer.

My husband however, is not as committed to my vanity. He lies and tells me he likes my roots and thinks I should grow them out. After all, if I’m as committed to GMO free and organic food as I say I am, does it not make sense to stop poisoning myself with expensive hair dye? rhoda

I tell him to stop trying to confuse me with logic. Vanity is no match for truth at this point. If this keeps up, I’m going to wind up channeling my inner Rhoda.

In spite of my desperate pleas to stay, my dollar bills continue to leave me for greater loves like college tuition, a new furnace, a blown engine (which required a new to us car for my son), property taxes, dock fees, my sons meds, caring for my parents, my comedy habit, and physical therapy. Not to mention the usual things like food, utilities, and my mortgage; now it seems they want to leave me for my laptop.

I am presently laptopless — which sounds waay dirtier than I mean that. My laptop is my life people!

Let me just say that every letter in the alphabet is important, especially those that are part of your passwords and when that one letter doesn’t work, all heck breaks loose. There’s no getting onto Facebook, or Twitter, or your bank account or… if you’re like me this week  – YOUR WHOLE STINKIN LAPTOP.

There is no work around. Trust me, I’ve tried!

My life is locked away in a 4 lb it’s”gotta be pink because it’s cute” Dell processor. My banjo practice videos, my art work, my writing, my jokes, my blog. ALL of it – locked away from my prying eyes, because one stupid letter has gone awry.

Desperate to access my “life in a hard drive” I did the unthinkable. I pried off the offending letter in hopes that if I applied appropriate pressure to that little dot beneath the key, my letter would somehow resuscitate itself.

Didn’t work.

And to add insult to injury, adjoining keys have now bailed in protest. Nice. Traitors.

Which means I get to suck up what’s left of my redheaded pride, put on a hat, go to some geek rescue store and try to explain what happened. That’s not going to be cheap. Nor are these children going to care that I have a computer degree (from 1986, I know don’t laugh). They are going to look at my keyboard, and then try to sell me a new computer. My laptop is MAYBE five years old, I don’t want a new computer, or their goofy software that they will no doubt load trying to up sell me something. I just want my keys to work properly.

I need another expense right now like I need 10 more pounds. And no, I do not wish to discuss the ten pounds I gained over Christmas leaving me 20 in the hole with my doctor’s goal of “just lose ten by Valentines Day, can you do that?” — sigh. Hoping for a miracle here.

monkeysee-harness-01There is good news in this wine and cheese fest. I won something this week that will help me – not with the money, or my hair, but with my weight. See that pretty harness? It’s from MonkeySee in Australia. My friend Ashley B. over at Women Cyclists Blog (Seriously check her out, I love her blog and I’m not just saying that because I won free stuff, I promise.) did a product review and hosted a giveaway. I won. Yeah me!  I got to go online and order my own (I got pink of course) and I can’t wait to get it. Yes, I will review it for you guys. This looks like a killer product. Actually anything that makes me visible to motorists at night and helps me stay alive rocks in my book.

So you see, it’s not all bad. And I do realize in the grand scheme of things, not being able to afford to get my hair done is not the end of the world. There are people far worse off than I. So don’t send me hate mail, okay?  I am “cowgirling up” as they say in Oklahoma and I am gonna ride — maybe not a horse per se’, but at least my bike.

Have a great weekend you guys.

This Is Pretty Awesome: What to wear when you ride

Deana5 Comments

photo (2)Okay, okay. I haven’t exactly been writing about riding much lately, but I AM still riding — see I have proof. My husband took this of me on our last ride in November. I’m still hitting the trails and I love it. I still look like a total dork in full gear, but oh well. I’m out in the sun, getting exercise, building muscle, losing weight (7 1/2 pounds in November), etc. and with every mile I put on my bike, I’m one step closer to climbing Pikes Peak and other cool stuff. So looking like a dork or no, I’m out there.

Temps have been crazy in Tulsa and while my gear worked for the summer months, I’m finding the clothes  don’t adjust well to cooler temps. I hit up a friend of mine for advice and they told me about this really cool web page. All you have to do is type in the Temp, Wind, Sunny or Cloudy, and Warm or Cool when you ride and this page will make suggestions on what to wear.

How freakin‘ — I mean – awesomely cool is that? Now, I’m sure all of you know about this page already, but on the off-chance someone does not, and wants to keep riding as long as possible, I offer up WHAT TO WEAR FROM BICYCLING DOT COM.

So if you want to ride outside through out as much of winter as possible, check out that really cool link. Stay healthy and stay warm. — See y’all on the road.

 

Monsanto-No-Sanity1

 

I Bonked, and I’m Back: Cycling Update, Unexpected allies and third base

Deana2 Comments

Bonk : Hitting a wall, In endurance sports such as cycling and running, hitting the wall or the bonk describes a condition caused by the depletion of glycogen stores in the liver and muscles, which manifests itself by sudden fatigue and loss of energy. Milder instances can be remedied by brief rest and the ingestion of food or drinks containing carbohydrates. The condition can usually be avoided by ensuring that glycogen levels are high when the exercise begins, maintaining glucose levels during exercise by eating or drinking carbohydrate-rich substances, or by reducing exercise intensity. (Source Wikipedia)

I’ve learned that nothing kills my personal enthusiasm for cycling like having a hot flash while riding my bike in triple digit weather. Puking at the top of the hill in front of my husband and the cars passing by on Sheridan Road is a moment I will not soon forget. Neither will anyone else, I’m sure.

Star date – 360 something since I bought my first road bike, and I’m still learning. I’m a newbie in the cycling world and I spend a lot of time trying out new things, asking questions and following teams and cyclists on blogs and twitter. ALL of my cycling friends are male. I do not know a single female cyclist. Even so, my hope is to one day run with the big dogs, or at the very least keep up with my friends who are already road warriors in my opinion. The problem with only knowing male cyclists is they don’t have the female answers I sometimes need. Or so I think. Men don’t have hot flashes while riding, and being able to relieve the call of nature anywhere they want, personal restroom stops are not as important. Cutting back on fluid intake because I’m unsure of where the bathrooms are, is not smart and can put you in the ER with a bladder infection if you are not careful. Don’t ask how I know that.

I want to learn and therefore I read whatever I can find, and since I can only find male bloggers about cycling, I read them. While I do receive instructional benefit regarding diet, and how to avoid bonking I must confess, if I read one more cycling blog on the benefits of “man-scaping” for cyclists, I’m going to throw up again. While I realize that male cyclists who blog about cycling need to cover all bases, I really wish they’d leave third base out of it. But they can’t because it’s important to their over all health.

In my pursuit of cycling knowledge, I discovered that the universe is shrinking. I know this because I once saw my gyn’s name fly across my twitter screen. It seems he is an avid cyclist and I was following his racing team without knowing it was his team. Once I cleared the coffee spray off my screen, neurotic un-following and mass apologies quickly followed. Chalk one up for neurotic boundaries. I’ve been flying solo ever since and that journey has had more ups and downs than the hills on the trail I ride.

My husband purchased a bike this summer and I’m excited to have a riding buddy. He’s also taught me about shifting gears and powering through hills. The only real downside is the only time we could ride together was for 30 minutes in the morning. I push harder when I ride with him and I built muscle riding the hills. The downside is losing out on the cardio benefit with those short rides. While I haven’t lost weight, I have gone down a full clothing size. That’s a plus. Now that it’s too dark to ride before work, I’m back riding solo. Not wishing to ride alone, I got pissy and blew off September. Not surprisingly, my weight has plateaued again.

A friend from Colorado reminded me that if it’s important to me, I’ll find a way, if not I’ll find excuses.  It’s time to get back on the bike. For safety purposes, I’m hitting Riverside trails where there are people. Safety in numbers and all.

I’m also back to reading blogs, and asking questions.

Of all the people I thought to ask questions of, my doctor was the last person on the list. I didn’t know how to start the conversation – oh yeah I saw you on twitter and found out you ride — (that just sounded creepy to me) and I wasn’t sure that I want him in my personal life. I mean, he’s seen me naked, you know?

We run in adjacent social circles, have for years. How we’ve never run into each other is beyond me. Now that I’m cycling, our circles are intersecting more and more. I was worried that I’d crossed a personal boundary by following his team and tried to extract myself as discreetly as possible. Turns out I was worried for nothing. Having a doctor who is a cycling enthusiast can be an asset. At least, it’s an asset when I’m not being whiny or trying to make him laugh.

I do not suggest telling a man who just completed a 400 mile bike tour that you are working your butt off and still not losing weight as it’s all laughably relative at that point and it just sounds whiny. Just sayin.

Opening up and telling him what I’m attempting has been beyond beneficial. It also turns out that third base is important, especially if I want to ride more than ten miles at a stretch.

Three things I did wrong my first year out:

1. Hydration Hydration Hydration. — If I’m avoiding fluids because I’m afraid of being a water hazard he can fix that. I’m not alone on this issue. Many women wrongly adjust to their circumstances by cutting back on fluids and that is the worst thing you can do to yourself and your body. And trust me on this Bonking sucks.

2. Get fitted for your bike. – Form is important. Bikes are not a one size fits all. There needs to be a balance between the seat and hand rails in order to take pressure off your spine, shoulders and nether regions. A good bike shop will do this for you in no time at all.

3. Wear the right clothes. I’ll be honest, I avoided cycling shorts for obvious reasons. I think they look ridiculous and I’m attached to looking “cute” while I sweat and puke. Good quality cycling shorts come with much-needed padding in the right places if you know what I mean. Your seat is important. Chaffing can be avoided with the right gear. Your thighs will thank you. The right shorts make all the difference in how far I can ride. Being comfortable has now outweighed the whole “do these make my butt look big” issues in my brain; of course they do, accept that and move on. The trick to remember is don’t wear panties with these or you defeat the purpose and get out of those shorts as soon as possible after the ride to avoid unnecessary infections. Also a good chamois cream with anti-bacterial ingredients does not hurt.

Lastly doc put me on an estrogen patch to help with those hot flashes and night sweats. I presently believe that an estrogen patch is to menopause what a morphine drip is to pain — No more insomnia, hot flashes or night sweats. Does wonders for our married life as well. The mood swings, however, have more to do with my personal temperament than my hormones though so I need to work on that.  Comes with being a redhead.

Getting and staying in motion is important to my overall health. It impacts me physically, emotionally, and spiritually and that is a good thing.

Happy riding you guys!

Thought for the day: Are we there yet?

Deana3 Comments

I’m a redhead again. My year of hair repentance is over. (Some of you may remember the great blonde fiasco of 2011). There is much rejoicing in my house as I got the green light to cut my hair and go back to my truest self. I cannot tell you how much I missed my hair. Learning patience is not an easy journey.

Raised an only child by a single mother who worked two jobs when she needed in order to make ends meet, I had to learn how to wait for things.

Today I live in a world where I no longer have to worry about what I’m going to eat, if I’m going to eat, and where I get to live. Lulled by a false sense of security, I’ve forgotten how to wait.

I am safe.

I am in many ways, the exception rather than the rule.

I am impatient and a perfectionist.

In this season of my life, I catch myself wanting it now instead of later and get impatient with the journey.

I still wait for the day when I can finally say “I’ve arrived.” only I read in Fully Alive that arriving is death. Once I arrive it means I’m out of things to learn and mountains to climb. Arriving means I get to relax. I’m ADD, if I relax I’ll get bored. When I get bored, I forget who I am and make stupid choices.

It’s the valleys of life that teach me compassion and it’s the mountains I conquer that teach me bravery. Without those two crucial things in my life, my spirit withers. I lose touch with who I am created to be and I lose touch with others.

I want to race through the valley, and be on the mountain top already. I forget that the journey is the life. Whether I’m in a valley, climbing a hill on my bike, or standing on top of the mountain, I’m breathing. I’m alive.

I used to dream of the day when I would no longer be neurotic until I realized it’s that place of living in the raw, stuck between the shitty first draft (As Anne Lamott would call it) and the clean up that gives breadth, depth and meaning to all of my relationships and experiences. It’s here in the middle where the oxygen is most abundant and I am at my most truest self. It is here where I am free.

Living in the middle means I get to be bad at something until I become good at it.

Living in the middle means I get to feel pain, know hunger, and suffering on occasion and learn that this too shall pass.

Living in the middle lets my eyes scan the horizon for the next goal, and the next opportunity to push myself beyond my perceived limitations and experience the joy of real accomplishment.

Jeff and I took a new path while riding bikes yesterday. This one has more hills than flat lands and I wasn’t prepared. I wound up walking the first hill and dug down into myself for the rest. I decided that I could stop and catch my breath if needed but I was not coming off my bike again no matter what. I knew that hill was waiting for me on the return trip. I knew I was going to have to dig in if I wanted to climb it.

I watched my pace and kept close to his. I shifted gears, pushed through the pain and refused to stop. I made it to where he was waiting and then…

…………………………………………………………………I threw up.

I am living in the middle of the consequences of throwing a temper tantrum and gaining 50 pounds hoping to assure that I’d never get hit on again. I’m living in the middle of learning boundaries, facing fears and finding myself. Sometimes living in the middle means doing the right thing even if it means I have to throw up afterwards. (Fellow scardy cats will understand that one)

Living in the middle is messy. It means I don’t get to have all the answers. It means I get to make mistakes and be imperfect. It means I get to try again until I get it right.

I don’t know what middle you are living in right now. Maybe it’s the middle of a storm, the middle age of life, the middle of a climb or the middle of a descent and you keep waiting for the day when you can finally say “I’ve arrived.”

Don’t settle for arriving. Don’t waste time wishing you were there, when you could be living in the here and in the now.

Strive to live.

Dig down.

Get messy.

Make mistakes.

Be neurotic.

Throw up if you have to.

Choose joy.

Believe in yourself.