I am a huge Ken Davis fan. If you read my blog, you know that. I feel like I owe him a lot and I tend to gush when I talk about his impact on my life over the past 20 years.
Depression does horrible things to people. I have friends who can’t bring themselves to eat when they are depressed. HA! Not to be flip, but I don’t have that problem. When I went through my depression from 2004-2008 I went from 154 lbs to 207 lbs in just a few years. Instead of needing to lose 20 pounds, I now need to lose 60. Not fun. I’ve spent the last four years gaining and losing the same 20 pounds. To add insult to injury I have friends and family who thought taking bad photos of me would convict me to change. Nope, just made me camera-shy.
When I met Ken in 2009, he talked about how he was planning to ride in a triathlon of sorts. The dude is in his 60’s. I was 43 and in no condition to even think of doing such a thing. The photos never bothered me. Sitting in a room listening to a man old enough to be my father talk about a life change, got to me. I started following his blog. He placed second for his age group in said triathlon. He’s not depressed any more. His spiritual life is changing. His personal life is improving.
Now he has my attention.
I had an unexpected hysterectomy in 2010 and my doctor told me I HAVE to lose weight. I listened. I pursued multiple forms of diet and exercise and learned my ankle does not tolerate a lot of things. My bulimia became active again and I had to deal with that monster one more time. (Walking in victory today) I learned that walking, running, Zumba, Step Aerobics are all out as my ankle cannot handle the strain. I can however ride a bike and so I purchased my first real bike last October. I even lost 20 pounds (again) if you’ll recall. Then I got busy and gained it all back.
I got my first copy of Fully Alive in June and devoured it in three days. No lie. Loved the book. I even took the DVD to my Mom’s and we laughed ourselves stupid for an hour. Then something humbling happened. My husband started reading the book and asking me questions about passages. “So what do you think of thus and such? I like his point, don’t you?”
I must have missed that passage.
“Oh well how about…..”
Nope..
“Did you read the book or did you skim it?”
I read it.
Hmmmm
OUCH.
My goal was to read the book. I read the book. I never allowed it to digest. I Deana, am a passive participant in literary pursuits. Nothing traversed past my brain. Sure I highlighted great tweetable quotes, but you know what – reading without gaining the nourishment intended and much needed and then regurgitating it all back to you guys makes me a literary bulimic.
Yuck.
My husband went out and purchased a new bike himself. He is at the “I own a grown up bike and it isn’t a Huffy” honeymoon phase. He wants me to ride with him. I like that. I also want to really read Fully Alive, not from a passive stand point, but as an active participant. I want to digest the chapters and get the words from my brain and into my heart. Once I do that, I plan to walk it out with my husband and with you guys.
Do you want to join me?
Benjamin Franklin is quoted as saying, “Many men die at 25 and aren’t buried until they are 75.” This book is intended to wake up these people.
Fully Alive uncovers forgotten signs of life in a culture seemingly filled with the opposite. Through action steps that led to his physical, mental, social, and spiritual health, Ken Davis recounts his journey back to the land of the living and the signs of life he found along the way.
The anchoring focus is based on the apostle Paul’s quest for life, when he said, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection.” A power greater than death is available for what we face today? Who doesn’t want a piece of that?
Filled with narrative stories, humor, and practical help, this book is for anyone who wants to live fully and wonders just what that might look like in daily life.
Many people are lurching in the twilight, hoping to sing once again…living lives of quiet desperation, searching in vain for signs of life.
St. Irenaeus said, “The Glory of God is man fully alive.” For those who have been sidelined in life, for those tempted to give up, this book screams…Live!
In Fully Alive, readers will learn how to:
Discover the adventure hiding in the middle of the mundane.
Exchange the pain of unmet expectations for the joy of living with expectancy.
Get unstuck and take the first step that will lead to a new body, mind and spirit.
Kick guilt to the curb and experience real freedom.
Drive a stake into the heart of your everyday fears and live again.
Tap into a power that will protect you whether you’re crawling through the valley or standing on the mountain top
You were made for more. It’s time to reignite your desire and live Fully Alive! Go here http://fullyalivebook.com/ for more information.
First off, I had no idea that a mint julep was mostly bourbon. That would explain why southern women are so genteel — they’re smashed.
“Oh honey, I have the perfect thing for this terrible heat. Here have a mint julep, it’ll cool you right down.”
Cool me down? Knock me out is more like it.
Have you ever had a mint julep? It’s Southern Tea with a Kentucky Whiskey kick you never see coming.
They taste all cool and minty like. It’s like drinking double mint gum only you get green stuff stuck in your teeth. One glass of that and you really don’t care that it is 104 outside. You just want to melt into the porch swing and have another one.
I don’t suggest having another one. unless you want to nap for a week or so. Just trust me. They taste really good and in this heat you really do want more. I don’t know why.
In light of that revelation and the desire not to be a puddle on someone’s porch this summer I believe I’ll stick with my zero calorie alcohol free Crystal Light thank you very much. I am supposed to be on a diet and all.
Rumor has it though Mint Juleps won’t ruin your diet and they “only” have between 150-220 calories a glass depending on how they are made. I don’t know if it ruins your diet or not, but I do know that telling yourself it’s too hot to ride your bike therefore you skip say the whole month of June, since you are traveling and all will.
I gained 10 lbs last month. Add to that the 10 I gained back during the Spring and I’m up 20 and flat back to where I started in November. Pound for Pound.
I was so proud of myself on June 2. I rode in the Tour de Cure for Diabetes and could have ridden longer. I celebrated my victory with being an absolute sloth for the whole month of June. I already have the metabolism of a sloth, remove the work out part of the equation and the weight comes back very quickly.
It wasn’t intentional. I was tired. Spring was busy. The end of senior year for my son was one event after another. Then in June I road tripped it to Nashville for the CCA Conference and while I could have used their workout room, I told myself that I “deserved” a few days off. Then I came home only to leave for NY two days later and well, there isn’t a gym at Mom’s house. Then last week it was in the hundreds all week and no way was I getting out in that kinda heat, you know?
So here we are. Or rather here I am. Back at square one.
One excuse after another and I’m back where I started.
I’ve been yoyoing for a year now. That can’t be good on my body.
Re-upping my commitment I did what any red-blooded American woman would do. I went shopping for bike gear and a pretty new helmet because we all know that shopping for workout clothes is just as good as actually working out, right? Okay not really, I just like to shop. Still I have bike only clothes.
The good news though is I have five new people signed up so far for my Tour de Cure Team next year. I’m hoping for more. My husband even joined the team. How cool is that? Now I have people to ride with and train with. It’ll be fun.
I have to get back on my bike now. I can’t very well lead a team, tell them we can do the 50 and not do the work myself. And yes, I said 50 FIVE OH! Miles. I had to make it 50. Now that I know I can do 25, I need a new goal. One that will require me to train or I won’t do it.
Here’s to starting over.
I’m not the first person who ever back slid with excuses. How about you? Do you need a do over button on your fitness plan? Why not join me and hit it today.
People are asking if I’m still riding my bike or did I give up that ghost. I am still riding my bike and while I can tell I’ve gotten stronger, my weight has plateaued. I’m guessing my mad cooking skills combined with having all three men at home may have contributed to that. I cannot be trusted near chips, dips, cheese, mayonnaise or dairy. I need to work on my self-control skills.
In keeping with my goals — I joined forces with ADA and rode in Tulsa’s Tour de Cure to help fight diabetes. I only signed up for 10 miles as opposed to the 25 mile ride for multiple reasons which in hindsight, were short-sighted.
1. I wanted to get me feet wet and find out what these rides were like. –
2. The 25 mile route goes on main roads and I’m not ready for roads/group rides, I still have a lot to learn. –
3. The fear of “what if I have to pee” is a present reality in my life. Ten miles is my safest bet. (This is true for a lot of us women in our 40’s)
I could have done the 25 miles, and next time I will.
The ride went well. The fun ride of ten miles was a relatively small group in comparison to the others. I made all the hills without having to get off my bike once. (woot! could not do that six months ago and one of those hills was a killer, I passed a lot of walkers.) I didn’t crash or hurt anyone. I had fun and it was for a great cause.
The only problem I had was my allergy induced asthma flared up and I did not bring an inhaler. Rather than cross the finish line sucking wind, I dropped just before the finish line and went straight to my car instead. I know, I cheated. I could feel the asthma attack coming on and went home to get my inhaler, which was a good thing because it hit right before I got home.
Ten miles was easy, and that is growth in my mad riding skills. We raised over $110,000 for diabetes and everyone had a great day. My only disappointment is I didn’t trust myself enough to push. At least I’ll be better prepared for the next time out and therefore able to stay all day. I even have people interested in being part of a whole team next year. That will be fun!
The feeling I have from completing a goal is priceless. No one can hand you self-esteem on a silver platter, it has to be earned. Yes, I struggle with that like most women do. I like to compare my outer self with other’s high light reels. I’m working on that.
“I’m not a control freak, I just want everyone to be happy. Oh, and like me. Yes, I definitely want people to like me. Why? Because that’s the only way I can like myself.” — me
Oh yah, no control issues here. Eye rolling is allowed.
I may “waller in defeat” from time to time, as my friend Tonya would say, but I don’t stay there.
Nobody, I don’t care who they are, or how famous and together we might think they are, leads a charmed life.
Everyone has problems.
Everyone has choices.
That’s why I like the Full Circle link so much. Here’s a guy, who hit rock bottom 19 years ago doing a benefit ride for the very place he got sober. I think that’s cool. I think that takes courage.
What does courage look like to you?
Is it public speaking?
Skydiving?
Saying no when you really need to even if it means disappointing someone?
Or is it risking feeling selfish and realizing that the greatest gift we can give this world is to be the best us we can be?
One of my favorite devotional pages says :
March 26 in The Little Blue Book ONE DAY at a TIME in AL-ANON:
Why is it so hard to admit we are powerless over alcohol, as the First Step suggests we do? All of us have heard and shared in discussions at Al-Anon meetings as to whether this should be interpreted as “alcohol” or the “alcoholic.” We have no power over either one. No one can control the insidious effect of alcohol or its power to destroy the graces and decencies of life. No one can control the alcoholic’s compulsion to drink. But we do have a power, derived from God, and that is the power to change our own lives. Acceptance does not mean submission to a degrading situation. It means accepting the fact of a situation and then deciding what we will do about it.
TODAY’S REMINDER
Progress begins when we stop trying to control the uncontrollable and when we go on to correct what we have the right to change. If we accept a situation full of misery and uncertainty, it is no one’s fault but our own. We can do something about it!
“Fighting futility is just a waste of energy, Samantha. Either do something or quit fretting.” – Celebra Tueli
While this particular page refers to alcoholism and alcoholics it can be about so much more. It hurts watching people we love destroy their lives. What causes even greater pain is putting our lives on hold while we wait for everyone else to get it together.
It has taken me a long time to really believe that I am powerless over people, places, and things, meaning I cannot control people or make their choices for them. I cannot control how people see me, or whether or not they like me. Nor can I control the weather, or disease/disabilities. Shoot, I struggle with controlling myself, thinking I can control others is pure ego.
All I have is the power to make the best choices for me.
That’s really where courage begins. Finding the power to make the best choices for ourselves regardless of the choices our loved ones make. This includes our spouses, siblings, friends, and dare I say it adult children.
I’m a firm believer that the power to change can only come from believing in a God that’s bigger than me. For some of us, finding that God takes courage.
My wish today for you and for myself is that we stop right where we are at and know beyond knowing that we can make better choices today than the ones we made yesterday — and then go do it.
Maybe for some of us, that choice is simply the acceptance of knowing the we are loved beyond measure no matter what and acting on that belief.
People ride bikes for different reasons. Some like the fellowship. Some like being outdoors. Me? I want to live. It really is that simple.
Tiffany’s death last fall scared me. We’d grown up together back in Michigan. One day she was Facebooking about the most recent cuteness of her 5-year-old son and the next day she was gone. pulmonary Embolism. That’s not fair.
My mother is 71 and is dying from COPD. She has suffered from severe depression on and off for most of my life and hasn’t had a drink since Aug 12, 1977. I would do anything for her, we even offered to buy her a house so she could live near us and she turned me down. Her depression keeps her from truly seeing and receiving love and some days it’s hard. She has convinced herself she would be miserable here and that she would die within six months if she moved. I have no choice but to let her live her end of life as she sees best.
While I spent roughly 30 years in Alanon, Mom doesn’t have a recovery program and I wish she did. Maybe that’s why I like Anne Lammot so much. She and my mother are a lot alike, only Anne chose a different path. I get jealous sometimes when I read her books. I still read them because I hope they can help me find my path and stop trying to live everyone else’s.
Don’t even ask about my Dad. I feel responsible for him as well.
I started having chest pains last summer and was sent to a cardiologist. When the tests came back perfect (except for a slight murmur) we assessed that perhaps my issues were more on the emotional bend rather than physical. I finally fessed up to some of the stress I was feeling and told her what was on my plate. Her response was a very simple statement. “I’d smoke too.”
Not the answer I was looking for, but she was right Codependency can kill.
I’m one of those people who puts off dealing with things until I can get away from people for a few days and have a private melt down. Then I pull up my bootstraps and carry on as the song goes. I didn’t get to do that last summer. August was full of commitments and I kept telling myself that this would have to wait. I could cope for a while, I’ll deal with it later. As if later will somehow take the sting away.
I should have known I was in trouble when I went in for my annual check up. If my doctor had been any nicer I would have burst into tears on the spot. It’s hard to handle kindness when we aren’t being very kind to ourselves. I had a very difficult time hearing his kindness over the voices in my head and my own woundedness screaming “What do you want from me!”
A middle of the night trip to the ER with stomach pain that made childbirth feel like a paper cut and chest pains that made me throw up scared me enough to change.
I can’t fix the people I love. I can’t make their choices for them, nor do I need to make myself responsible for their choices. The serenity prayer tells me to accept the things I cannot change, change the things I can, and find the wisdom to know the difference.
Instead of buying a house for my Mom, I bought a bike for myself. That’s a good step in the right direction.
Instead of reading blogs on fixing other people, I read blogs written by people who are after the same things I am; Healthy living. Emotionally, Spiritually, and Physically. The link below is one such writer. He’s a recovering alcoholic and is open about it. He rides to live, just like I do. I hope it inspires you as much as it does me. Click on the link to read his story. Full Circle….
If nothing changes, nothing changes. Let it begin with me.
My new 18 speed Giant. My very first true road bike purchased just last fall.
A few people have been asking so I thought I better fess up. I have not been on a bike of any kind in almost two months. I’ve also gained back the 10 pounds I lost while riding.
I know, I know. I do plan on returning in a week after my oldest comes home from college. Not that it is any excuse, but I have been fully immersed in my youngest son’s soccer season. He’s a senior and this is his last year to play varsity. I’m having a blast. I LOVE SOCCER!
The soccer season ends next weekend, my oldest will be home as well, and I will be back out on the trails with my new toys after May 6. I will post on cycling again once that happens.
Dear Readers and Friends. An unexpected trip to the ER this weekend reveals that I have a bladder infection that has traveled to my kidneys. Angry kidneys hurt like none other let me tell you. I’ll spare you the wonderful details. Suffice to say I am on Lortab for pain as well as nausea meds and antibiotics. Per doctors orders I am resting, re-hydrating and focusing on getting well.
I have learned that Social Networking and pain medication are not wise cohorts. In light of that, I will refrain from blogging, Tweeting and Face-booking. I will be checking in with my primary doctor on Friday to make sure that the infection is completely gone. Until then – have a wonderful week.
Fear and desire are two sides to the same coin. – Vis-a-vis my stupid fortune cookie.
We ordered take-out tonight. I love fortune cookies if for no other reason than they make me laugh. (Not that I believe in them, just to clarify they are for fun) And I love Chinese food. double bonus. I do not love the ” fortune” I got tonight and offered to trade. Until I read his anyway. Do you know what his said?
“Engage in group activities that further transformation.”
He chuckled when he read it and then he asked me the rudest question, “So how’s the cycling thing going?”
I didn’t see the trap and lit up like the 4th July. For 1o minutes this man, my soul mate, listened to me talk about this blog and that book and this group and that ride. He stopped me at rides.
“So when are you going?”
“On what?”
“That group ride you’re talking about. When are you going to ride with a group?”
“Oh I’m not ready to ride with a group, there’s too much to learn.”
“Sounds to me you got the right fortune, but you want mine. You can’t have it. “
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll never find what you are looking for in a book. You want the experience without actually having the experience. It can’t happen. Put down the books and just ride. It’s the right next step.”
Busted. He’s right and I know he’s right. The only way I’m going to learn how to ride with a group is by riding with a group. Books aren’t going to teach me that.
My question to you , Do you remember a time where you desired something but were afraid of it at the same time? What did you do?
DISCLAIMER: Loyal readers, you KNOW I like to poke fun of just about everything. I mean I once wrote a humorist rant about sedation gynecology (still think it’s a good idea if for no other reason it keeps me from saying something stupid to my doctor like “Oh that’s so gonna cost you a roofie.”) so you KNOW nothing is off-limits for my warped mind. I love my new bike, I love the adventure. And like everything else I love, I love to poke fun.Most of my cycling rants are very much tongue in cheek – if by some small chance a REAL cyclist reads my blog – cut me some slack kay? TY
A local cycling enthusiast posted this on Twitter today for levity sake I’m sure. The first time I watched it, my brain started to freeze up. That’s a lot of new words. The second time I watched it, I laughed. Dear Readers: Please promise that if I become like the guys in this video you will slap me, kay?
I’ve learned four words in the last two months. I know Carbon, Kit, Toe Clips, and trainer (Which isn’t a bra by the way). Those are the only cycling related words I know right now. I’m happy with those words. Carbon means a really light frame, a kit is what I need if I get a flat (unlike my car, my bike doesn’t come with AAA), Toe Clips are the sadomasochistic buggers attached to the pedals that tried to kill me, and the trainer is a metal contraption used to lock your bike in place while riding indoors – kind of like Madonna’s bras back in the 80’s?
A lot of cyclers do speak about “Spin Classes” and somehow I don’t think it has anything to do with yarn. One guy twittered about doing 20 miles in an hour at a spin class with his wife. I’m an ADD redhead, I have been spinning at 90 to nothing my whole life. 20 miles does not sound impressive. I’m kidding. Okay so I understand FIVE words. Yeah me!
I have only two a few questions:
Is fartlicking anything like what the boys learned how to do that one late night while at church camp?
Does it involve bic lighters and a dark room?
Is “peaking too early” really a phrase guys want to be using in public?
What is”Bonking?” It sounds like one of those words you don’t want your mother to know, you know?
If you don’t ride or do triathlons you won’t understand these words either, but enjoy the video anyway kay? Have a great weekend y’all!
When it comes to learning new things, I am like a two-year-old with a “me do it myself” attitude, only with better resources. Blame it on my DNA if you must, or the fact that I was raised by a boomer to be independent. Who knows. Either way, I’m a book nerd through and through, and have spent most of my 46 years believing if I can’t find it in a book – fake it. Pulling my nose out of the books and interacting with – gasp – humans while I learn, stumble, fall, and learn some more is a HUGE growing experience. The whole everything is better in community stuff. Getting over the whole I-hate-to-look-stupid mindset is a trip and a half down a dark alley. Fortunately my close friends know this about me and love me anyway.
I’m learning a lot of things right now. All of them on purpose. Most of these new adventures do not affect my ego really. Not much anyway. I used to design ss7 switching protocol for a living, complete with electronic and geographic diversity for a major player in telecommunications. (SS7 is, or perhaps was, to telecom what the central nervous system is to the human body.) While that isn’t exactly rocket science, it isn’t easy either. I remind myself of this fact rather frequently these days while I stumble through my new adventures.
Jo is teaching me how to ride horses –– We practiced jumping this week and while I fell off Cowboy during a jump last week, I didn’t die and we were right back at it the following week. We literally raised the bar and the speed and I am having a blast. I’ve known Jo for almost ten years. Having her teach me how to ride, race, and jump does not bother me. This is my escape from the testosterone around me. Nothing against the guys, but being the lone female in a house full of men can get overwhelming sometimes and I need a break. There is a coolness factor involved here to be sure. There is no way I could simply saddle up a horse and start jumping all on my own. I needed someone to step me through it.
Ruth is teaching me how to make a quilt. I cannot presently sew to save my life. I was raised by a woman’s rights baby boomer. My never learning how to sew is no big deal. My mother wanted more for my life than to be domestic slave. I mean housewife. – I am a housewife today. This kills her. That status is changing ever so rapidly, but I digress. I’m learning how to quilt because my grandmother was a blue ribbon quilter. She cut small squares, pieced everything by hand, and even quilted by hand. That’s a strong legacy. My mother also quilts, but uses a sewing machine. My mother is dying and does not have the time left to finish all of the quilts she had in mind. Mom gave me two boxes of material when I was home last summer. I’m learning how to quilt as a way to honor both her and my grandmother. Ruth is taking our small class through every baby step imaginable. This too is fun and does not bother me.
Soccer Mom meets Hipsters and Racers – oh yeah this one bothers me a little. – Broomfield this is for you. Riding bikes with the kids on our Mom bikes is NOT the same thing as wanting to go the distance with adults. I’m just sayin. There is a learning curve so curvy that it makes Dolly Parton look like an A-Cup.
My Bicycle evolution: (do not be fooled by the photos, owning bikes and knowing what to do with them – are not the same thing.)
An example of my Very First Bike -- I got a banana seat Schwinn for Christmas when I was 10. It was totally decked out with streamers and a flowered basket. Being the only girl on the block I raced the boys up and down hills and destroyed it in no time. But I still loved it.I got my first and only 10 speed when I was 13. Oddly I never had to change a tire or anything major. I owned this bike until I was almost 30. My husband and I used to ride the trail systems of Chicago back in the day.Example of the "pretty" 5-speed from Wally World. I HATED this bike. Nuff Said.My new 18 speed Giant. My very first true road bike purchased just last fall.
I bought a new bike last fall because I wanted to get back in shape – easy peasy. It’s just a new bike, how much is there to know? Apparently a lot. I learned this week that leaving the sporting goods store behind and going to a local bike shop is fun, exciting, and scary. Scary because I’m a soccer mom. They are well, not soccer mom’s. They are mostly grown men (save for one nice gal that helped me pick out my bike) who get to work on gears, chains, frames etc in what I will call an oversized garage – only much cooler looking. — If I could pick a dream job for my youngest son, it would be this. They also race and I hear there is beer involved at the end of the day. — Testosterone heaven, minus the pin up calendar.
For some strange reason, I find myself slightly intimidated at this point. I love this store and I really like the staff. Yet walking in with my questions, I feel like Velma from Scooby Doo walking in to a surf shop wanting a boogie board. I could swear there were moments when I could see the backs of people’s heads through their eyeballs. — My first attempt at picking out a new bike last fall met with some quiet smirks and a few giggles. It seems I picked out a rather expensive trick bike that was primarily for “hipsters.” I wanted to know what a hipster was, but decided it was one of those words that if you don’t know, don’t ask. We landed on a just my size Giant and I’m very happy with it.
Not a whole lot of humility has been required at this point. I order a bike, I pick it up. I notice the tires are thin and bald, but I don’t ask why. It doesn’t have a kick stand either but I don’t notice that until I get home. — I later learn that street bikes come that way. OH! — I try my new bike out for two months and keep falling over because of the death straps on the pedals. I get a post card in the mail reminding me the shop will tune up the bike for free after 30 days and to bring it in. They lure me with the promise of 15% off any one accessory.
I get to accessorize? OOH! I’m there.
I wasn’t feeling intimidated when I dropped off my bike for its check up, I did however feel intimidated when I had to pick it up. Dropping off was easy, the store was empty. Picking it up, the store was full — of pros. Racers et al. Some nice fellow puts my bike back on the rack because whoever worked on it forgot to remove the death grips. While talking about those little buggers that want to kill me, I did learn that they are called “toe clips.” OH! — I can hang any hope for cool points out the window. This is Walmart meets Lance Armstrong all the way. Part of me was secretly wishing for my soccer van back.
Watching him work on my bike, I am suddenly transported back to Chicago, 1987. My car is in the shop, running badly, and the mechanic is little lady this, little lady that – trying to convince me that my sweet pinto is on it’s deathbed but for $500 he can hook it up to machines and bring it back ala Frankenstein. I grab my keys, turn the motor, and the car shakes like crazy so I pop the hood. I jiggle the spark plugs, reconnect the loose wire that wasn’t loose when I dropped it off for the oil change, and viola my car is resurrected from the soon to be dead. hmm. Jerkface was trying to rip me off.
Truth is, I knew more about cars at 22 than I know about bikes at 46. I also paid more for this street bike than I did for my first three cars. I am completely at the mercy of these guys. These men who probably have other jobs, but maybe not. Who race, sweat, get covered in grime, wipe out, drink beer and live to ride another day. If you really want to know, I’m not a mercy rule kind of gal, unless I am the one dealing the mercy cards anyway. I’m more often than not the two-year old who insists “I do it myself.” sigh.
Thankfully, none of them laughed at my questions – at least not to my face. I needed a “kit” and helmet. Having no clue what either entailed I had to rely on the guys. The kit I learned is made up of an inner tube, tire repair kit, bag that fits under the seat, some blue plastic sticks and a CO2 Cartridge. The look on the guys face when I asked what the sticks were for was priceless. Yes I’m sure I saw the back of his head through that one. He then walked over to the bike on the rack and mimed how one would use them to pry off a flat tire. That was nice of him. A real mountain biker walked in at that point and needed his expertise and so Mr Mechanic dude took over after that.
He seemed far more well, amused? Empathetic? Tolerant? Closer to my age – yes that would be it right there. He got me a CO2 kit that was “idiot proof, no offense.” none taken I assured him, put the kit bag together, double checked everything on my bike, and helped me size my first helmet. A simple grey deal which I consider my starter helmet.
Being helped to pick out a helmet that fits by a total stranger, that kinda bugged me. Dear lord, you’d think he helped me pick out a training bra or something. I’ve never worn a helmet in all my 46 years, there is no way I would instinctively know anything about sizing, so why it bugged me I don’t know. Must be my EGO pure and simple. It’s not like I put my first pick on backwards or anything, I just happened to pick up a kids helmet. Yep – I needed help with sizing. It only killed me a little bit. You know?
So now I have my re-tuned bike, a road kit, and a helmet. I’m ready to step up the challenge and learn to ride with a group. Maybe. That is my eventual goal I know. Can’t ride the MS150 by myself. I’m thinking I should try the trails on my own first, maybe? That way I know them and I”m not learning group etiquette and geography all at the same time. Baby steps and all that jazz.
I know I said I was going to post miles each week, but I can’t figure out how to gauge that. Probably another toy or something. I’ll figure it out eventually that or I’ll ask someone. Just not today.
Benjamin Franklin is quoted as saying, “Many men die at 25 and aren’t buried until they are 75.” This book is intended to wake up these people.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 