OK, for anyone who's been riding for a long time, what I consider an endurance ride may be laughable, but you know, we've all gotta start somewhere. I'd been talking about it with Nancy for awhile. Our rides from Trout Creek usually end up being about 17 miles; the main trail loop is about 15 miles, but we do some side trails and add some mileage. I thought it was time to ramp up our riding. Do the loop both ways.
Last Wednesday, Nancy, Matt and I attempted the ride. Nancy was on her son John Paul's bike because hers was in the beloved and trusted hand's of Abner, owner of Links Cycle Works, our go-to guy, for repair. They're about the same height, but he's got a 29er with just front suspension, vs. her full suspension Giant Trance. The bike didn't fit her well and she had a hard time the entire ride. It's hard enough to ride a bike that doesn't fit you well, much less for a looooong ride. We tried to take a short cut back but ended up doing 27.26 miles. I got home and face-planted it into the bed.
Matt and I met Thursday and duplicated the ride, but I added an extra jog to make it to a total of 30 miles. We got back to the parking lot and my odometer read 29.40 so I circled the parking lot until it clicked over 30 miles. Matt thought I was mad. The guys we'd helped with a flat tire in the woods probably thought I was a bit nuts, too. But you know, I can't say that I rode 30 miles unless I actually did. I felt dead after that ride, too.
This past Wednesday, uh, yesterday, we debated and decided to do the enduro ride again, vs. just trying to do a loop of the hard trails. We ended up doing two of the more difficult trails: Gator Bait and Heartbreak Ridge. I felt good most of the ride; I wasn't wiped at the end of the ride. I pushed hard at the end and still had something in the tank. I was actually feeling pretty good about my riding. A woo-hoo moment.
Matt and I met today and for some unknown reason decided to do enduro again. And we added Panther to the mix. I haven't posted my old long blog entry about my first encounters with Panther from my Myspace page, but I will soon. I've always been a weenie, and when I first started I had this wonderful woman try to help me through Panther. I think it was too early in my mountain biking career. I crashed hard, bled a lot, and have been wary of the trail since. I didn't make it through Panther clean today, but I did 99% of it and feel confident that I will be able to clear it soon. Just need to find some good lines.
Matt and I did the main trail to the hole in the fence (HITF) and back again. I was hurting and feeling the ride by the time I got to the HITF but somehow, stupidly, decided I needed to finish this ride. It was about at this time, 1/2 way through my ride, that my normally comfortable saddle started to feel like a seat of wood. Every root, every bump, it reverberated through my rear. I found some reserves, occasionally, but for the most part limped back to the car. We had a long rest at the Morris Bridge stop and I made it all the way back. Matt kept asking me if I wanted to stop and rest and I said no. I don't want to have to climb back onto my bike again. Just ride. My ass hurt; my ass still hurts. Don't know if I can I ask my massage therapist for a butt massage. Too embarrassing.
So, I feel good that we've made these epic (to me) rides. I've had a marvelous time in the woods with my friends. And I obviously don't have a trainer to give me a training plan. But in the overall goal of increasing fitness and riding ability, I will not do two days of long rides back to back.
There may be a day when a 30 mile ride is no longer long. I'll let you know.
Jen
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The Hold Steady- Orlando, FL 5.22.10 at The Social
I'm starting this post a little after 2 am. Just got home from the show. I was blown away. Have been thinking for hours how to articulate and explain a Hold Steady (THS) show. I don't know if I'm capable, but I'll try. (And I'll finish this later today after I sleep some.)
My buddy Adam, from my music listserv Postcard From Hell (PCFH) and his lovely wife, Beth, met me and he drove us to Orlando. We had an unremarkable Thai dinner and got to the venue a little after the doors opened, about 8:15. While standing in line I heard one of the bouncers say that the opening band wasn't going to hit the stage until 9:30. I was hoping I heard him wrong, but it turned out he was right. So, we had over an hour to stand around and chat.
I'm 5' tall, so I usually like to be right up front by the stage; otherwise I can't see what's going on. Even though we got there early, it was already five deep. One of my superpowers, however, is being able to maneuver myself into a place in front of the stage. By the time the opening band started, I was right up front, below where THS leader singer Craig Finn would spend most of the night.
They say politics makes strange bedfellows; you can say the same about music. We struck up a conversation with a guy behind us. He was from West Palm, his diminutive girlfriend was from Gainesville, and we exchanged insights into bands we liked. Adam and he got into a deep discussion about stuff, so I moved over and started talking to the next group over and met Matt from Tampa. I didn't catch his buddy's name. His buddy, a red-tank-top-wearing, unibrow, neanderthal-forehead-looking-walking-testosterone-ad had me worried, but he greeted me with a drunken smile. I moved away from them and met Jaden and his wife from Ocala, and Britt who'd flown down from Pittsburgh for the two shows. Beth moved up too and we hung together until the first band started right a little after 9:30.
I had been worried because Matt, his buddy, Jaden and Britt all looked like big guys. THS shows are not known for their campfire peace singalongs, but instead are known for their raucously loyal fans madly singing/screaming along, waving their arms wildly and pumping their fists, pogoing, dancing...in general, the shows are a rock-n-roll smack down. Why in the world I wanted to be smack dab in the middle of this madness I don't know, but as long as it's not too wild up front, that's where I like to be.
The guys behaved themselves during the opening act, Twin Tigers, from Athens. Probably because we were all struck mute by the shear wall of sound coming out of the speakers. I've been to some loud shows, but this has to be in the top 10. Even earplugs couldn't muffle it. And when it's that loud, you can't hear anything. Lyrics, melodies, all lost. The chick bass player did slow things down a bit when she sang, but the song she chose was a Bob Seger cover (really, WTF?) The only good thing I can say about Twin Tiger is their drummer was phenomenal. And he was phenomenally cute, too. No, make that drop dead gorgeous. All the girls up front were struck dumb, myself included. He was an incredibly intense drummer, he was pounding wildly, almost savagely, throughout their entire set, his arms flying and his hair flaying about. He went through a half dozen or more drum sticks, he just shredded them. I was thinking he should wear protective eye gear; you could see the bits of wood flying from the sticks and I was afraid one may spear his eye. As they left the stage, my new buddy Jaden called out, "Hey drummer dude, my wife thinks you're hot!" All the girls up front agreed.
We had another wait between stage changes. It was very orderly and precise. The placement of the monitors. The tuning of the instruments. The towels folded just so. Water brought out. Set lists carefully taped down (with everyone up front craning to see...Yay! They'd be opening the set with the opening track to their new record, Sweet Part of the City.) Beer bottles opened up and lined up. Adam had drifted to the back before the first band came, but Beth hung up front and we continued our conversation with Jaden and his wife, who was talking with all the guys around her, and Britt from PA. I was right up front, and their was an under 21 waif right next to me and her rather burly boyfriend. The anticipation was building.
I'd mentioned to Jaden that I was worried about being in the middle of a mosh pit, and he said, "Nah, don't worry about it, I can't see that happening." Well, it wasn't exactly a mosh pit, but when THS took the stage, their legion of fans responded how I expected. All crowding up to where Finn was doing his thing, center stage, raising their arms in support, and at the end of those arms many of the hands had beer, which of course sloshed all over everything, including my back and my head. Some of those bottles and elbows were making contact with my head as well. Beth and I were dancing along, laughing and dodging what we could. (It hurts but it's worth it.) It was a zillion degrees in the pit, with sweaty bodies bumping into each other as we danced and cavorted and swayed and shouted and sang and smiled along with the rock and roll greatness that is The Hold Steady.
After a while, though, I'd had enough, especially of unibrow. I grabbed Britt and wedged him between me and unibrow. When that didn't work, I asked him nicely to be my protector and he braced his two arms on the stage and I got between them and he acted as my shield. I was able to enjoy the show and not be bumped every 30 seconds.
How to describe front man Craig Finn? I was late to THS. PCFH had been raving about them for years and I'd thrown some stuff on my Ipod but I just didn't get it. What is it? Why does this guy keep singing about the same things over and over again? Why doesn't he sing, why does he just talk sing-song like? Why does he keep name dropping people and places. Who is Charlemange and St. Theresa and why should I care if Ybor City almost killed him? Then I got their last record and it just slayed me. It all clicked, it all made sense. I went back in their catalog and listened and now am a huge fan. These hopeless, hapless characters Finn writes about over and over again, they somehow find hope and sometimes redemption. So I finally got the songs.
But the front man, Finn. I've never seen anything like it. He's not exactly rock star god material. He looks like the guy who works in the mail room. Not particularly tall or handsome, he's got nerdy rectangular glasses, a receding hairline, and dressed in short sleeve, western snap button shirt. Not exactly a fashion plate. But when he gets on stage he's a bundle of energy and nerves. He breaks out all kinds of dancing styles, he interprets his lyrics with his emotions, he's sometimes twee, sometimes conspirator, sometimes gang leader, sometimes goof ball, sometimes preacher, sometimes disco queen, sometimes mad man. He was all that and more, a sweaty spastic. All I can say is I've never seen anything quite like it before.
The show was a little over an hour and a half and they didn't play nearly all my favorite songs. I'm tempted to go back to Orlando tonight but think I'll take it easy, instead, and bask in my memories.
Let me try to add a video here:
Jen
My buddy Adam, from my music listserv Postcard From Hell (PCFH) and his lovely wife, Beth, met me and he drove us to Orlando. We had an unremarkable Thai dinner and got to the venue a little after the doors opened, about 8:15. While standing in line I heard one of the bouncers say that the opening band wasn't going to hit the stage until 9:30. I was hoping I heard him wrong, but it turned out he was right. So, we had over an hour to stand around and chat.
I'm 5' tall, so I usually like to be right up front by the stage; otherwise I can't see what's going on. Even though we got there early, it was already five deep. One of my superpowers, however, is being able to maneuver myself into a place in front of the stage. By the time the opening band started, I was right up front, below where THS leader singer Craig Finn would spend most of the night.
They say politics makes strange bedfellows; you can say the same about music. We struck up a conversation with a guy behind us. He was from West Palm, his diminutive girlfriend was from Gainesville, and we exchanged insights into bands we liked. Adam and he got into a deep discussion about stuff, so I moved over and started talking to the next group over and met Matt from Tampa. I didn't catch his buddy's name. His buddy, a red-tank-top-wearing, unibrow, neanderthal-forehead-looking-walking-testosterone-ad had me worried, but he greeted me with a drunken smile. I moved away from them and met Jaden and his wife from Ocala, and Britt who'd flown down from Pittsburgh for the two shows. Beth moved up too and we hung together until the first band started right a little after 9:30.
I had been worried because Matt, his buddy, Jaden and Britt all looked like big guys. THS shows are not known for their campfire peace singalongs, but instead are known for their raucously loyal fans madly singing/screaming along, waving their arms wildly and pumping their fists, pogoing, dancing...in general, the shows are a rock-n-roll smack down. Why in the world I wanted to be smack dab in the middle of this madness I don't know, but as long as it's not too wild up front, that's where I like to be.
The guys behaved themselves during the opening act, Twin Tigers, from Athens. Probably because we were all struck mute by the shear wall of sound coming out of the speakers. I've been to some loud shows, but this has to be in the top 10. Even earplugs couldn't muffle it. And when it's that loud, you can't hear anything. Lyrics, melodies, all lost. The chick bass player did slow things down a bit when she sang, but the song she chose was a Bob Seger cover (really, WTF?) The only good thing I can say about Twin Tiger is their drummer was phenomenal. And he was phenomenally cute, too. No, make that drop dead gorgeous. All the girls up front were struck dumb, myself included. He was an incredibly intense drummer, he was pounding wildly, almost savagely, throughout their entire set, his arms flying and his hair flaying about. He went through a half dozen or more drum sticks, he just shredded them. I was thinking he should wear protective eye gear; you could see the bits of wood flying from the sticks and I was afraid one may spear his eye. As they left the stage, my new buddy Jaden called out, "Hey drummer dude, my wife thinks you're hot!" All the girls up front agreed.
We had another wait between stage changes. It was very orderly and precise. The placement of the monitors. The tuning of the instruments. The towels folded just so. Water brought out. Set lists carefully taped down (with everyone up front craning to see...Yay! They'd be opening the set with the opening track to their new record, Sweet Part of the City.) Beer bottles opened up and lined up. Adam had drifted to the back before the first band came, but Beth hung up front and we continued our conversation with Jaden and his wife, who was talking with all the guys around her, and Britt from PA. I was right up front, and their was an under 21 waif right next to me and her rather burly boyfriend. The anticipation was building.
I'd mentioned to Jaden that I was worried about being in the middle of a mosh pit, and he said, "Nah, don't worry about it, I can't see that happening." Well, it wasn't exactly a mosh pit, but when THS took the stage, their legion of fans responded how I expected. All crowding up to where Finn was doing his thing, center stage, raising their arms in support, and at the end of those arms many of the hands had beer, which of course sloshed all over everything, including my back and my head. Some of those bottles and elbows were making contact with my head as well. Beth and I were dancing along, laughing and dodging what we could. (It hurts but it's worth it.) It was a zillion degrees in the pit, with sweaty bodies bumping into each other as we danced and cavorted and swayed and shouted and sang and smiled along with the rock and roll greatness that is The Hold Steady.
After a while, though, I'd had enough, especially of unibrow. I grabbed Britt and wedged him between me and unibrow. When that didn't work, I asked him nicely to be my protector and he braced his two arms on the stage and I got between them and he acted as my shield. I was able to enjoy the show and not be bumped every 30 seconds.
How to describe front man Craig Finn? I was late to THS. PCFH had been raving about them for years and I'd thrown some stuff on my Ipod but I just didn't get it. What is it? Why does this guy keep singing about the same things over and over again? Why doesn't he sing, why does he just talk sing-song like? Why does he keep name dropping people and places. Who is Charlemange and St. Theresa and why should I care if Ybor City almost killed him? Then I got their last record and it just slayed me. It all clicked, it all made sense. I went back in their catalog and listened and now am a huge fan. These hopeless, hapless characters Finn writes about over and over again, they somehow find hope and sometimes redemption. So I finally got the songs.
But the front man, Finn. I've never seen anything like it. He's not exactly rock star god material. He looks like the guy who works in the mail room. Not particularly tall or handsome, he's got nerdy rectangular glasses, a receding hairline, and dressed in short sleeve, western snap button shirt. Not exactly a fashion plate. But when he gets on stage he's a bundle of energy and nerves. He breaks out all kinds of dancing styles, he interprets his lyrics with his emotions, he's sometimes twee, sometimes conspirator, sometimes gang leader, sometimes goof ball, sometimes preacher, sometimes disco queen, sometimes mad man. He was all that and more, a sweaty spastic. All I can say is I've never seen anything quite like it before.
The show was a little over an hour and a half and they didn't play nearly all my favorite songs. I'm tempted to go back to Orlando tonight but think I'll take it easy, instead, and bask in my memories.
Let me try to add a video here:
Jen
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Roadies
Met Matt at Flatwoods for an early ride today. He had to hurry to hit his bootcamp class before he went to work. Have I mentioned he's nuts? Anyway, he doesn't have a road bike. He put fat slicks on what was his first mountain bike that's he's since replaced with a full suspension sweet ride but he's now using it for a commuter bike. Anyway, as strong as he is, he can't push that bike too fast for too long, so we had a nice paced ride but didn't push ourselves.
We're tooling along on the backstretch and we both hear a rather loud whistle coming out of the woods. We look off to our right and don't see anything, so we continue chatting. We hear another, then another. I thought it odd, cause I'd assumed it was runners in the woods trying to collect their group, but why was it keeping up with us. I finally heard a group of riders behind us. I veered off as close to the edge to the right as I could, and Matt went to the left. There was a wide area for them to slip through. A mouthy woman was giving instructions, telling Matt that the proper thing to do was to go off to the right. There were five of them I think, and they whisked on by.
I got pretty pissed. I've been riding at Flatwoods for, what, five years now? Longer? I've never been whistled at to pass. A hearty and loud "ON YOUR LEFT!" is sufficient to get my attention. I mean, I'm not your fucking dog. I've run into some pretty rude toadies, uh, I mean roadies in my time, but this really takes the cake.
They lapped us again, it's inevitable when we're tooling along at 15 mph and they're doing 20 something. I hear the whistle again. Matt makes a grand gesture and tells them to pass in French. The head guy pulls beside me and I sort of wobble. The mouthy woman demands, icily, "What are you doing?" as I stray from the right side of the path to the middle, I tell the guy, with what I hope is good humor:
"I'm not your dog, you don't have to whistle. An 'on your left' would be fine."
He said, "I did say it, you didn't hear me."
Bullshit.
The lady at the end of their group, now down to four, smiled at me as she passed. Don't know if it was in derision of me or sympathy with my point of view. And off they went. I was still kinda cranky about it, but glad I addressed it without using the 'f' word, or escalating it into a confrontation, which was an accomplishment. Because really, in my heart of hearts, throwing tacks in their path crossed my mind.
Matt and I passed a group of three that had been in the parking lot the same time I was getting ready. I asked them, "Did you get whistled at, too?"
One of the women answered, "Yes, and it's 'cause we're sooooo hot!"
Matt and I cracked up. I thanked her for her perspective. What a way to put a positive spin on the situation. Instead of getting pissed, like I did, this delightful woman found a way to see the humor in it.
Jen
We're tooling along on the backstretch and we both hear a rather loud whistle coming out of the woods. We look off to our right and don't see anything, so we continue chatting. We hear another, then another. I thought it odd, cause I'd assumed it was runners in the woods trying to collect their group, but why was it keeping up with us. I finally heard a group of riders behind us. I veered off as close to the edge to the right as I could, and Matt went to the left. There was a wide area for them to slip through. A mouthy woman was giving instructions, telling Matt that the proper thing to do was to go off to the right. There were five of them I think, and they whisked on by.
I got pretty pissed. I've been riding at Flatwoods for, what, five years now? Longer? I've never been whistled at to pass. A hearty and loud "ON YOUR LEFT!" is sufficient to get my attention. I mean, I'm not your fucking dog. I've run into some pretty rude toadies, uh, I mean roadies in my time, but this really takes the cake.
They lapped us again, it's inevitable when we're tooling along at 15 mph and they're doing 20 something. I hear the whistle again. Matt makes a grand gesture and tells them to pass in French. The head guy pulls beside me and I sort of wobble. The mouthy woman demands, icily, "What are you doing?" as I stray from the right side of the path to the middle, I tell the guy, with what I hope is good humor:
"I'm not your dog, you don't have to whistle. An 'on your left' would be fine."
He said, "I did say it, you didn't hear me."
Bullshit.
The lady at the end of their group, now down to four, smiled at me as she passed. Don't know if it was in derision of me or sympathy with my point of view. And off they went. I was still kinda cranky about it, but glad I addressed it without using the 'f' word, or escalating it into a confrontation, which was an accomplishment. Because really, in my heart of hearts, throwing tacks in their path crossed my mind.
Matt and I passed a group of three that had been in the parking lot the same time I was getting ready. I asked them, "Did you get whistled at, too?"
One of the women answered, "Yes, and it's 'cause we're sooooo hot!"
Matt and I cracked up. I thanked her for her perspective. What a way to put a positive spin on the situation. Instead of getting pissed, like I did, this delightful woman found a way to see the humor in it.
Jen
Blueberries
As I mentioned a few days ago, it is not easy to keep up with this thing all the time. I want to. I've got two half written entries just hanging in cyber space, waiting to be finished, destined not to be.
But I must tell you about my most excellent day.
My friend Cindy went blueberry picking years ago and brought me her excess. I've been planning on going since then, but it has not worked out until this year. Cindy had a day off work, so we planned a blueberry day. We asked lots of peeps but in the end it was me and Cindy and Heather and Nancy. Heather drove us in her big ass pick up truck; we headed out a little after 9.
Cindy had done the research and found us a place to pick. $3 a lb, or $15 for a 6-7 lb bucket. We headed out with a big bucket tied around our necks and commenced to blueberry picking. The owner said to eat what we wanted. What didn't get picked would go to waste. The price had dropped so low because the berries in Florida came in late due to the cold winter weather. The blueberries in GA and NC were ready and they couldn't sell theirs for a profit. Believe me, we ate like black bears while we were picking.
We pick for an hour or so. Cindy gets two buckets, the rest of us get one and 1/3. That was the fun part. But once you pick them, you have to do something with them.
After a few stops along the way, we end up back at my house around 1 o'clock, famished. Cindy headed home, and Nancy brought out the goodies she had brought. An excellent gouda cheese, some roasted veggies, a veggie pate, and some crackers. I dragged out the chicken salad I had made from the chicken left over from the night before, and I opened the nice bottle of Zin that Nancy had brought. We feasted while we worked.
Heather had to head home, but Nancy and I nibbled and sipped and rinsed all of the berries. Somewhere between 15-18 pounds or berries. That's a lot of berries. And we made two batches of preserves. One a blueberry marmalade and one straight blueberry. Ended up with nine 12 ounce jars filled with sweet gooey goodness.
It was a great day. It was a great way to spend a day.
Jen
But I must tell you about my most excellent day.
My friend Cindy went blueberry picking years ago and brought me her excess. I've been planning on going since then, but it has not worked out until this year. Cindy had a day off work, so we planned a blueberry day. We asked lots of peeps but in the end it was me and Cindy and Heather and Nancy. Heather drove us in her big ass pick up truck; we headed out a little after 9.
Cindy had done the research and found us a place to pick. $3 a lb, or $15 for a 6-7 lb bucket. We headed out with a big bucket tied around our necks and commenced to blueberry picking. The owner said to eat what we wanted. What didn't get picked would go to waste. The price had dropped so low because the berries in Florida came in late due to the cold winter weather. The blueberries in GA and NC were ready and they couldn't sell theirs for a profit. Believe me, we ate like black bears while we were picking.
We pick for an hour or so. Cindy gets two buckets, the rest of us get one and 1/3. That was the fun part. But once you pick them, you have to do something with them.
After a few stops along the way, we end up back at my house around 1 o'clock, famished. Cindy headed home, and Nancy brought out the goodies she had brought. An excellent gouda cheese, some roasted veggies, a veggie pate, and some crackers. I dragged out the chicken salad I had made from the chicken left over from the night before, and I opened the nice bottle of Zin that Nancy had brought. We feasted while we worked.
Heather had to head home, but Nancy and I nibbled and sipped and rinsed all of the berries. Somewhere between 15-18 pounds or berries. That's a lot of berries. And we made two batches of preserves. One a blueberry marmalade and one straight blueberry. Ended up with nine 12 ounce jars filled with sweet gooey goodness.
It was a great day. It was a great way to spend a day.
Jen
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Haul from Sunshine Thrift Store 1/2 price on clothing sale
The Sunshine Thrift Store has their monthly 1/2 price on clothing sale usually the second Thursday of every month. My friend, Bev, and I usually go together on a marathon shopping spree there about once every other month. We have our shopping down to a science.
First, we dress in tight fitting clothes. I've got a pair of what I would have called biking shorts before I started biking. They're black, tight, come down almost to my knees. (no chamois, that would be really awkward) A tight fitted tank top of top. Then I put my regular clothes over that.
Whoever gets there first grabs a cart (waiting for someone in line to pay and ask for theirs) and heads to a specific location. Today I got there first, around 9:15, and started in the kid's section. My oldest son's eighth grade graduation is in a few weeks and he needs a nice outfit for that. Since he's graduating eighth grade, it only makes sense that he is starting high school in August. He's worn a uniform to school since kindergarten, so I'm trying to bring him home some things he'll like and think are cool. I found quite a few things for him.
Bev arrives and we spend time there, in the housewares section, where I grab one of about 10 George Foreman grills for $3, and a set of vintage bar glasses (for consignment) for .40 each.
I need some shorts since I've (ahem) grown lately. Also wanted to get an outfit for Tropical Heatwave this Saturday night. We go through the racks, pull something that looks promising, and throw it in the cart. I hit the wall at 11:30. I was hungry and we still had to sort all that we had piled in the cart.
That's where the tight fitting clothes part comes in handy. I take off my top layer and try on the clothes by a mirror in the back. There are only 2 dressing rooms and the line for them is long. While Bev and I were doing that, we were talking with some fellow shoppers and they commented on how clever we were. (I'm clever like the Doctor.) I got a hand basket to put the clothes in that I wanted, folded nice and neatly so the price tag is showing, making the cashier extremely grateful.
So here's what I ended up with:
2 pair of capris
5 pair of shorts (I know, really???)
1 skirt
2 dressy blouses (1 of which combines with the skirt above to make up my Heatwave outfit)
3 tshirts
1 long sleeve tshirt
1 long sleeve boy's dress shirt
2 technical t's for riding or running
2 pair boy's jeans
1 pair men's jeans
2 pair boy's pants
1 small George Foreman's grill1 black velvet cocktail dress (w/ crinoline)
1 chinese silk jacket
4 vintage bar glasses (these last 3 items are for consignment)
Total tab $51. Less than you'd pay for a pair of jeans in the mall. I rock. Bev rocks. Sunshine Thrift Store rocks.
Jen
First, we dress in tight fitting clothes. I've got a pair of what I would have called biking shorts before I started biking. They're black, tight, come down almost to my knees. (no chamois, that would be really awkward) A tight fitted tank top of top. Then I put my regular clothes over that.
Whoever gets there first grabs a cart (waiting for someone in line to pay and ask for theirs) and heads to a specific location. Today I got there first, around 9:15, and started in the kid's section. My oldest son's eighth grade graduation is in a few weeks and he needs a nice outfit for that. Since he's graduating eighth grade, it only makes sense that he is starting high school in August. He's worn a uniform to school since kindergarten, so I'm trying to bring him home some things he'll like and think are cool. I found quite a few things for him.
Bev arrives and we spend time there, in the housewares section, where I grab one of about 10 George Foreman grills for $3, and a set of vintage bar glasses (for consignment) for .40 each.
I need some shorts since I've (ahem) grown lately. Also wanted to get an outfit for Tropical Heatwave this Saturday night. We go through the racks, pull something that looks promising, and throw it in the cart. I hit the wall at 11:30. I was hungry and we still had to sort all that we had piled in the cart.
That's where the tight fitting clothes part comes in handy. I take off my top layer and try on the clothes by a mirror in the back. There are only 2 dressing rooms and the line for them is long. While Bev and I were doing that, we were talking with some fellow shoppers and they commented on how clever we were. (I'm clever like the Doctor.) I got a hand basket to put the clothes in that I wanted, folded nice and neatly so the price tag is showing, making the cashier extremely grateful.
So here's what I ended up with:
2 pair of capris
5 pair of shorts (I know, really???)
1 skirt
2 dressy blouses (1 of which combines with the skirt above to make up my Heatwave outfit)
3 tshirts
1 long sleeve tshirt
1 long sleeve boy's dress shirt
2 technical t's for riding or running
2 pair boy's jeans
1 pair men's jeans
2 pair boy's pants
1 small George Foreman's grill1 black velvet cocktail dress (w/ crinoline)
1 chinese silk jacket
4 vintage bar glasses (these last 3 items are for consignment)
Total tab $51. Less than you'd pay for a pair of jeans in the mall. I rock. Bev rocks. Sunshine Thrift Store rocks.
Jen
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Gung-ho
I started out this thing a few weeks ago, writing something I hoped was entertaining, even if just for me. I was trying to write just about every other day. I was hoping my posts were a bit entertaining, engaging, maybe even funny, with a few pithy comments thrown in here or there.
It's hard to do this all the time. So I will say that my admiration has grown for those who have a full time blog, with a cadre of followers. It's hard to deliver, day after day.
Think about it.
A writer of fiction, whether it be novels or short stories: the time line between production (of proffered work) and induction (reading) of same can be quite lengthy. There are editors involved. And rewrites. And editors. And rewrites.
A painter can spend years (or maybe months/weeks/days or hours) on a canvas but there is still a time lag between the artist putting paint to canvas and the canvas being shown/appreciated. There can be representatives involved, who tell the artist which pieces should be shown. (Whether it's the spouse or a paid agent.)
A songwriter has an idea, and it can emerge in a flash or a song can develop over years, but it still takes time to get from idea/inspiration to audience. Most releases have producers, who do the editing function.
I can make the same analogy with filmmakers, writers who publish articles in magazines, even the people who work so hard to publish their church bulletins. There is a delay between thought, product (not the right word but want one to encompass all forms of expression) and reception by the audience. An in a lot of cases, there is a middleman who has given some input/constructive criticism.
But blogs are different. You write your thoughts down, hit enter, and it's out there. (Of course, if you're like me, you don't have much of an audience so you don't need to worry about disappointing anyone.)
This is new to me. So, if you're reading, please be patient with me through my explorations. My thought processes.
My inspiration is the Fat Cyclist:
http://www.fatcyclist.com/
If you have some spare time, I recommend starting with his 'Top Posts' section and go from there. He's a blogger that I follow religiously. I'm sure I'll refer to him often.
The point is, after doing this for a whopping two weeks, I just need to say that I admire those who can do this on a very regular basis. Trying to create something that people look forward to reading....hmmm...it's ..OMG.. it might become work instead of fun. But right now it is still fun. And right now very few folks are reading, so it all works out. And trying to be good/creative/fun with only myself to edit my ramblings, yeah, that is a challenge.
Jennifer
It's hard to do this all the time. So I will say that my admiration has grown for those who have a full time blog, with a cadre of followers. It's hard to deliver, day after day.
Think about it.
A writer of fiction, whether it be novels or short stories: the time line between production (of proffered work) and induction (reading) of same can be quite lengthy. There are editors involved. And rewrites. And editors. And rewrites.
A painter can spend years (or maybe months/weeks/days or hours) on a canvas but there is still a time lag between the artist putting paint to canvas and the canvas being shown/appreciated. There can be representatives involved, who tell the artist which pieces should be shown. (Whether it's the spouse or a paid agent.)
A songwriter has an idea, and it can emerge in a flash or a song can develop over years, but it still takes time to get from idea/inspiration to audience. Most releases have producers, who do the editing function.
I can make the same analogy with filmmakers, writers who publish articles in magazines, even the people who work so hard to publish their church bulletins. There is a delay between thought, product (not the right word but want one to encompass all forms of expression) and reception by the audience. An in a lot of cases, there is a middleman who has given some input/constructive criticism.
But blogs are different. You write your thoughts down, hit enter, and it's out there. (Of course, if you're like me, you don't have much of an audience so you don't need to worry about disappointing anyone.)
This is new to me. So, if you're reading, please be patient with me through my explorations. My thought processes.
My inspiration is the Fat Cyclist:
http://www.fatcyclist.com/
If you have some spare time, I recommend starting with his 'Top Posts' section and go from there. He's a blogger that I follow religiously. I'm sure I'll refer to him often.
The point is, after doing this for a whopping two weeks, I just need to say that I admire those who can do this on a very regular basis. Trying to create something that people look forward to reading....hmmm...it's ..OMG.. it might become work instead of fun. But right now it is still fun. And right now very few folks are reading, so it all works out. And trying to be good/creative/fun with only myself to edit my ramblings, yeah, that is a challenge.
Jennifer
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Mrs. May's Trio bars
I don't consider myself an advocate for many products. I have, really, very few brands I'm loyal to. I'm a marketer's nightmare (I can claim that proudly; my BBA degree is in Marketing.) Let me see if I can think of a few things that I hold so dear that I would not consider switching brands.
...pause while I open up fridge and pantry.....
OK, here's my list...and I think you will conclude, that for the most part, I'm price driven, not brand driven. I will buy a generic product before the brand product if I perceive the quality is equal.
Pop-tarts (store brand didn't pass the kid muster)
Hellman's mayonnaise. (hands down the best. reduced fat version is great as well)
Heinz ketchup. Kids probably can't tell the difference but on the rare times I use ketchup it makes a difference to me.
Uncle Ben's Long Grain and Wild Rice
Good Season's Italian Salad Dressing Mix
Gatorade powder mix
Publix Mac and Cheese
Cape Cod Sea Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips (though I'm trying to avoid them)
Organic Valley milk. OMG the absolute best thing to ever hit the shelves. I didn't drink milk growing up, I thought it was gross. Then hit my teens and found the 'good with sweets' connection, then the 'good with breakfast' connection. I've been a milk drinker since. When I was pregnant with my first child, I craved milk. I wanted to be showered/bathed in milk. I had dreams of buckets of milk being dumped over my swollen, pregnant body. (OK, oversharing here, sorry.) Only drink it now once or twice a week, usually with breakfast. The point is, Organic Valley milk is just fabulous. Their whole milk tastes like cream, the 2% milk tastes like whole milk, and their skim milk tastes like 2% milk. Color me impressed. (Listening to the radio archives and that song, by The Replacements, was just playing. How fitting.)
And the whole point of this post: Mrs. May's Trio bars. I can't wax enthusiastic enough.
Where do I begin?
To tell the story of how great a love can be?
(if you don't recognize the lyrics, that's the theme to Love Story)
I've bought a variety of bars since I've been riding. Really, after an hour of hard riding, you need something if you plan to ride another hour or more. So I've experimented around. I tried the Clif bars, Nature Valley, Gu, Power Bars, etc. I know I need to add fuel on a long ride, but most of these things are inedible, to me. The Kashi bars were exceptionally unpalatable. (An aside: I put the Kashi bars that I couldn't bear to consume in my glove box. My plan was to give them to the homeless guys who have the 'HUNGRY' signs. I don't have money to give them, but I try to keep something in the car to give them to assuage my guilt. My husband had tried one of the Kashi bars and quipped: That's a great idea, honey. You give one of those bars to those guys, and the next time they see your car they'll take off....'oh, no, it's the Kashi lady!' You won't be bothered by those guys again!)
On an impulse I bought a box of Trio bars at BJs. It says 3 nuts, 3 seeds and 3 fruits. No additives, no cholesterol, no preservatives, no gluten, dairy, wheat, or gmo. Kosher. Anyway, none of that matters if it doesn't taste good. And, my god, this bar does. It is a treat. Yes, it is higher in calories than other bars, but they are nutritious calories. When I'm on a group ride I try to break off a piece to share with someone. Converts, all. We're spreading the word. Just wish I could get a commission.
I've seen them at Sweetbay and at BJ's and at Amazon. If you work out hard and need a snack break, I think you'll be happy with a Trio.
Mrs. May's Trio bars. One of the best things, ever.
...pause while I open up fridge and pantry.....
OK, here's my list...and I think you will conclude, that for the most part, I'm price driven, not brand driven. I will buy a generic product before the brand product if I perceive the quality is equal.
Pop-tarts (store brand didn't pass the kid muster)
Hellman's mayonnaise. (hands down the best. reduced fat version is great as well)
Heinz ketchup. Kids probably can't tell the difference but on the rare times I use ketchup it makes a difference to me.
Uncle Ben's Long Grain and Wild Rice
Good Season's Italian Salad Dressing Mix
Gatorade powder mix
Publix Mac and Cheese
Cape Cod Sea Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips (though I'm trying to avoid them)
Organic Valley milk. OMG the absolute best thing to ever hit the shelves. I didn't drink milk growing up, I thought it was gross. Then hit my teens and found the 'good with sweets' connection, then the 'good with breakfast' connection. I've been a milk drinker since. When I was pregnant with my first child, I craved milk. I wanted to be showered/bathed in milk. I had dreams of buckets of milk being dumped over my swollen, pregnant body. (OK, oversharing here, sorry.) Only drink it now once or twice a week, usually with breakfast. The point is, Organic Valley milk is just fabulous. Their whole milk tastes like cream, the 2% milk tastes like whole milk, and their skim milk tastes like 2% milk. Color me impressed. (Listening to the radio archives and that song, by The Replacements, was just playing. How fitting.)
And the whole point of this post: Mrs. May's Trio bars. I can't wax enthusiastic enough.
Where do I begin?
To tell the story of how great a love can be?
(if you don't recognize the lyrics, that's the theme to Love Story)
I've bought a variety of bars since I've been riding. Really, after an hour of hard riding, you need something if you plan to ride another hour or more. So I've experimented around. I tried the Clif bars, Nature Valley, Gu, Power Bars, etc. I know I need to add fuel on a long ride, but most of these things are inedible, to me. The Kashi bars were exceptionally unpalatable. (An aside: I put the Kashi bars that I couldn't bear to consume in my glove box. My plan was to give them to the homeless guys who have the 'HUNGRY' signs. I don't have money to give them, but I try to keep something in the car to give them to assuage my guilt. My husband had tried one of the Kashi bars and quipped: That's a great idea, honey. You give one of those bars to those guys, and the next time they see your car they'll take off....'oh, no, it's the Kashi lady!' You won't be bothered by those guys again!)
On an impulse I bought a box of Trio bars at BJs. It says 3 nuts, 3 seeds and 3 fruits. No additives, no cholesterol, no preservatives, no gluten, dairy, wheat, or gmo. Kosher. Anyway, none of that matters if it doesn't taste good. And, my god, this bar does. It is a treat. Yes, it is higher in calories than other bars, but they are nutritious calories. When I'm on a group ride I try to break off a piece to share with someone. Converts, all. We're spreading the word. Just wish I could get a commission.
I've seen them at Sweetbay and at BJ's and at Amazon. If you work out hard and need a snack break, I think you'll be happy with a Trio.
Mrs. May's Trio bars. One of the best things, ever.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Coconut Grove and Techno Pig are now my bitches
Really. I rode them today, and hard.
OK, actually I made it through both of the trails cleanly today, for the first time.
In truth, I may have made it through TP last year one time cleanly, but that was before Squiggy when I crashed two times on the trail, thus erasing any perceived triumphs.
Don't know what got in to me today. Had planned to meet (OK, have to give these peeps names until I can get their permission to talk about them on my blog) Konaguy but that didn't work out so I had another solo ride. You know, I think I need to plan at least one solo ride a week. I've made great progress lately by myself. Why, oh why I can't try the tough stuff with someone around.....??? My mind is a mystery to me. I enjoy riding with someone, but I really like riding alone, too. Just me, my bike, my Ipod and I'm good to go. Well, gatorade and a snack, too.
Some of my friends give me grief for riding alone, but I feel perfectly safe at Wilderness Park. I've got the ranger's help line phone number in my cell phone. I've got some of the ranger's personal cell phone numbers in my phone. If I run into trouble, I can also call 911. And if I crash funny and break my neck, then I will die doing something I love. Don't think you can ask more out of a premature death. And out of all the years I've been riding (not that long, really..but) I've never felt intimidated or threatened.
OK, so back to me conquering the more difficult trails.
I've not been writing this blog thing for very long, but I think I've made it clear what a wuss I am. Some people hop on a bike and within months they're ready to join the pro circuit. HWWR comes to mind. My progress comes slowly, really slowly. (Or should that be slow, really slow?? Don't have a grammar editor here.)
The last time I tried to ride Coconut Grove was probably a year and a half ago. The sign at the entry says 'VERY DIFFICULT TRAIL' and that is enough to freak me out. Makes my heart pump faster and my breathing accelerate so that I'm sucking air. It's a short trail, with about three or so challenging sections. The last time I tried it I was, again, the horse refusing the jump. I can look at the trail and realize in my heart of hearts that it is very do-able, but that doesn't make me able to get my bike over that tough section of terrain.
After trying five times and being near tears of fear and frustration and embarrassment, I walked my bike the rest of the trail and have been too afraid/intimidated/embarrassed to try it again. I've run the trail a few times and said to myself, 'Yes, I can do this!' but, until today, have not had the courage to try it.
So, I'm not sure why I veered my bike to that trail today instead of taking the double track Bayshore around. 1) I was by myself. 2) There was no one else around. 3) It wasn't too hot. 4)???? I vaguely remember thinking to myself as I headed in that let's just see what we can do. The hurdle that stopped me the last time I tried (you approach then take a fairly sharp left turn over a log...you can't get over the easier side because there's another log hanging out over the trail...then after that you've got to take another left cut) I just sailed over today. I realize, after my log jumping the other day, that it was no big deal. Really, it's smaller than a lot of the tree roots on the trail. And after that there are some nasty palmetto roots to either thread through or go over. Think I got up on the pedals and muscled over them. That's all it takes, really. So, I was feeling pretty good about myself after finally, FINALLY, nailing Coconut Grove.
By now, the sun was up and the temperature was rising, and the humidity was already up. I swear, it's the first week of May but it could be July. So not fair, going from Winter to Summer without much of a Spring.
Was working on going faster and not braking through the corners ( but of course I did) and somehow ended up at the entrance of Techno Pig, so I went in. The start of the trail (from South to North) has got some of those really sharp turns that have me braking and going down to 6 mph to get through them. S turns, you know? So I got through them, slowly. (Uh, had fallen at one of those turns just last month.) Then there are the series of palmetto roots. Most of them are no big deal. Just gotta get some speed up to get over them. But at the end there is a fairly long series of palmetto roots followed by a big root. In the past, the colt on me has refused the jump, but today I saw it and just decided to hammer it. I did and I cleared that big root. And it gave me hope. Maybe I can get better. Maybe I won't be too embarrassed to go on group rides because I can't keep up or am too scared to hit the tough trails.
I've got a long way to go. Some of the difficult trails that I've conquered in the past have been closed for awhile due to the rain. I haven't ridden Indian or Gatorbait for awhile. So I'll need to work up my courage for those once they are open. And Panther. I've made it through that just one time, North to South. It's open but muddy so I'm waiting for a fresh batch of courage for that one.
But, as of today, I've successfully ridden all the trails in the Wilderness Park Trail System.
woo-hoo
np: Liz Phair 'Ride' ...oh, how appropriate
OK, actually I made it through both of the trails cleanly today, for the first time.
In truth, I may have made it through TP last year one time cleanly, but that was before Squiggy when I crashed two times on the trail, thus erasing any perceived triumphs.
Don't know what got in to me today. Had planned to meet (OK, have to give these peeps names until I can get their permission to talk about them on my blog) Konaguy but that didn't work out so I had another solo ride. You know, I think I need to plan at least one solo ride a week. I've made great progress lately by myself. Why, oh why I can't try the tough stuff with someone around.....??? My mind is a mystery to me. I enjoy riding with someone, but I really like riding alone, too. Just me, my bike, my Ipod and I'm good to go. Well, gatorade and a snack, too.
Some of my friends give me grief for riding alone, but I feel perfectly safe at Wilderness Park. I've got the ranger's help line phone number in my cell phone. I've got some of the ranger's personal cell phone numbers in my phone. If I run into trouble, I can also call 911. And if I crash funny and break my neck, then I will die doing something I love. Don't think you can ask more out of a premature death. And out of all the years I've been riding (not that long, really..but) I've never felt intimidated or threatened.
OK, so back to me conquering the more difficult trails.
I've not been writing this blog thing for very long, but I think I've made it clear what a wuss I am. Some people hop on a bike and within months they're ready to join the pro circuit. HWWR comes to mind. My progress comes slowly, really slowly. (Or should that be slow, really slow?? Don't have a grammar editor here.)
The last time I tried to ride Coconut Grove was probably a year and a half ago. The sign at the entry says 'VERY DIFFICULT TRAIL' and that is enough to freak me out. Makes my heart pump faster and my breathing accelerate so that I'm sucking air. It's a short trail, with about three or so challenging sections. The last time I tried it I was, again, the horse refusing the jump. I can look at the trail and realize in my heart of hearts that it is very do-able, but that doesn't make me able to get my bike over that tough section of terrain.
After trying five times and being near tears of fear and frustration and embarrassment, I walked my bike the rest of the trail and have been too afraid/intimidated/embarrassed to try it again. I've run the trail a few times and said to myself, 'Yes, I can do this!' but, until today, have not had the courage to try it.
So, I'm not sure why I veered my bike to that trail today instead of taking the double track Bayshore around. 1) I was by myself. 2) There was no one else around. 3) It wasn't too hot. 4)???? I vaguely remember thinking to myself as I headed in that let's just see what we can do. The hurdle that stopped me the last time I tried (you approach then take a fairly sharp left turn over a log...you can't get over the easier side because there's another log hanging out over the trail...then after that you've got to take another left cut) I just sailed over today. I realize, after my log jumping the other day, that it was no big deal. Really, it's smaller than a lot of the tree roots on the trail. And after that there are some nasty palmetto roots to either thread through or go over. Think I got up on the pedals and muscled over them. That's all it takes, really. So, I was feeling pretty good about myself after finally, FINALLY, nailing Coconut Grove.
By now, the sun was up and the temperature was rising, and the humidity was already up. I swear, it's the first week of May but it could be July. So not fair, going from Winter to Summer without much of a Spring.
Was working on going faster and not braking through the corners ( but of course I did) and somehow ended up at the entrance of Techno Pig, so I went in. The start of the trail (from South to North) has got some of those really sharp turns that have me braking and going down to 6 mph to get through them. S turns, you know? So I got through them, slowly. (Uh, had fallen at one of those turns just last month.) Then there are the series of palmetto roots. Most of them are no big deal. Just gotta get some speed up to get over them. But at the end there is a fairly long series of palmetto roots followed by a big root. In the past, the colt on me has refused the jump, but today I saw it and just decided to hammer it. I did and I cleared that big root. And it gave me hope. Maybe I can get better. Maybe I won't be too embarrassed to go on group rides because I can't keep up or am too scared to hit the tough trails.
I've got a long way to go. Some of the difficult trails that I've conquered in the past have been closed for awhile due to the rain. I haven't ridden Indian or Gatorbait for awhile. So I'll need to work up my courage for those once they are open. And Panther. I've made it through that just one time, North to South. It's open but muddy so I'm waiting for a fresh batch of courage for that one.
But, as of today, I've successfully ridden all the trails in the Wilderness Park Trail System.
woo-hoo
np: Liz Phair 'Ride' ...oh, how appropriate
Monday, May 3, 2010
Dreams
I've always had vivid dreams and nightmares. I can still remember some of the horrible nightmares I had as a child; they usually involved beasts with sharp teeth chasing me and wanting to eat me. They had usually already eaten my family.
As a programmer on WMNF for the past 20 years, I've had my share of dead air nightmares. The are universal amongst programmers; every one I've asked has experienced them. The theme usually involves dead air. There is some...thing preventing me from getting a song on the air. I'm locked out of the air studio, I can't find anything to play, I've already played all the CDs, I can't get the equipment to work, I can't get the CD to cue up. Last week, right before marathon, my dream had people coming in and out of the studio while I had the mike open, talking, laughing and joking, banging the door, as if the air studio was any other room in the building. The list is endless of the things that have gone wrong in my dreams about me being on air. I guess it's a variation of the naked dream.
So it was refreshing to have a good dream about me being on my bike. It was Friday night, after I had successfully jumped the log. I dreamt I was in the mountains, and I made the climbs and descents without any problems, and I felt myself pedal through a rocky mountain stream. It wasn't a long dream and I don't remember much of it, but it was nice to wake up to a positive vibe vs. a negative one.
As a programmer on WMNF for the past 20 years, I've had my share of dead air nightmares. The are universal amongst programmers; every one I've asked has experienced them. The theme usually involves dead air. There is some...thing preventing me from getting a song on the air. I'm locked out of the air studio, I can't find anything to play, I've already played all the CDs, I can't get the equipment to work, I can't get the CD to cue up. Last week, right before marathon, my dream had people coming in and out of the studio while I had the mike open, talking, laughing and joking, banging the door, as if the air studio was any other room in the building. The list is endless of the things that have gone wrong in my dreams about me being on air. I guess it's a variation of the naked dream.
So it was refreshing to have a good dream about me being on my bike. It was Friday night, after I had successfully jumped the log. I dreamt I was in the mountains, and I made the climbs and descents without any problems, and I felt myself pedal through a rocky mountain stream. It wasn't a long dream and I don't remember much of it, but it was nice to wake up to a positive vibe vs. a negative one.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Baby steps
I've been riding a mountain bike for a little over two years now. Yep, I just re-upped my SWAMP membership for the third year. I have a road bike and was riding that a lot up at Flatwoods. I didn't even know what fat tire meant. I ran into some people who kept telling me how much fun it was. I had a hybrid at the time and finally took in on a trail. Squiggy was the first one I went on. I thought, man this is great fun. Then I tried Panther (sign going in saying Very Difficult Trail) and said huh-uh, this is not for me.
The point is that I'm a chicken. Squawk, squawk. I'm not particularly interested in the tough stuff. I've had enough bad falls as it is, I don't want to invite trouble, you know? I took the 'Intro to Mountain Biking' class right after I started riding off-road, and I'm sure they thought they'd never see me again. I was too scared to do the dips, the really big palmetto roots struck fear in my heart, and I wasn't brave enough to try to jump a small log. I remember running into the instructor a few months later and he said, "Oh, yeah, you're the woman who wouldn't try anything." I wear my weenie mantle with pride.
But that doesn't mean I don't want to improve. I do. I want to be a better rider. I have improved....slowly. When I first started riding, my buddy John told me I'd be one day barreling over a section of roots like it was nothing. And he was right. Things that used to terrify me don't anymore. Things I used to walk my bike over I can clear with ease. But considering how little it takes to intimidate me on the trail, uh, that's not saying much. No, no, I'm not trying to put myself down; I'm trying to be realistic. I've come a long way, baby, but I've got a long was to go, too.
I've got a bad case of the nerves. Fears, neuroses, whatever you want to call it, I got it bad. Oh, and they're selective, too. One bridge I can't do, another one, exactly the same, I can. One dip with a rooty out is no problem, the next one will stop me cold. And I'm my own worst enemy. A year ago, someone said to me, in exasperation, "Jennifer, what is wrong with you?" I'm sure she didn't mean it to become a catchphrase that I flagellate my self with, but alas, it has. I can't turn off the negative tapes that loop in my head, no matter how hard I try.
So, the other day, HWWR and I were riding along and there was a probably 4" log in the path. No big deal, I should be able to clear it with ease. NOT. Like a horse refusing a jump, I just stopped cold. I approached it about three times before I said 'forget it', and apologized profusely for my idiocy. HWWR kindly dragged the log off the trail and we continued the ride. (HWWR is a kind fellow.) I can't do the hard stuff with other people watching, no matter how friendly, nice or kind they are.
It is an internal battle. I want to get better, but if I'm all worked up and afraid then I'm not having fun and what's the point in that?
So when I went out yesterday, I decided to try jumping logs. After all, there was no one else around (to judge or condemn me.) I found a place on a double track that had lots of fallen branches around. At first I set up 3 fairly small ones and practiced on those. No problem. Then I found a bigger log, bigger than the one I had refused the day before. I avoided it the first time by, but turned around and nailed it. It felt like jumping a horse. (Something I haven't done in over 30 years, mind you.) And I did it again and again. It was fun. It was good.
So, yay for me. One more tiny baby step towards proficiency (at least how I define it.)
OK, and it was a really good day for seeing wildlife. Let me count: one gopher tortoise, two wild turkeys, one raccoon, two whitetail deer, one wild hog, one snake (may have been a moccasin; didn't get close enough to figure is out) and two bald eagles. And today had a ride with hubby Ed and my friend Susan. Saw a large bird swoosh down ahead of me and land right by the trail. I came abreast of it and was staring at a very large owl. It took flight, leaving behind a dead squirrel. I'm sure it came back for his late breakfast after we were gone.
I had two solo rides this week. Thursday was on my road bike at Flatwoods and put in about 32 miles in two hours. Friday I was on my mountain bike and put in a little over 17 miles in about two hours. Both days had my IPOD on, rocking to tunes. I was so miserable by the end of the road ride; I just wanted it to end. I was bored, bored, bored. Not so on my mountain bike. I was happy and mellow and sorry the ride was over. So, I need to make sure that I've got someone to ride with when I do road rides.
NP: Frank Turner Poetry of the Deed
The point is that I'm a chicken. Squawk, squawk. I'm not particularly interested in the tough stuff. I've had enough bad falls as it is, I don't want to invite trouble, you know? I took the 'Intro to Mountain Biking' class right after I started riding off-road, and I'm sure they thought they'd never see me again. I was too scared to do the dips, the really big palmetto roots struck fear in my heart, and I wasn't brave enough to try to jump a small log. I remember running into the instructor a few months later and he said, "Oh, yeah, you're the woman who wouldn't try anything." I wear my weenie mantle with pride.
But that doesn't mean I don't want to improve. I do. I want to be a better rider. I have improved....slowly. When I first started riding, my buddy John told me I'd be one day barreling over a section of roots like it was nothing. And he was right. Things that used to terrify me don't anymore. Things I used to walk my bike over I can clear with ease. But considering how little it takes to intimidate me on the trail, uh, that's not saying much. No, no, I'm not trying to put myself down; I'm trying to be realistic. I've come a long way, baby, but I've got a long was to go, too.
I've got a bad case of the nerves. Fears, neuroses, whatever you want to call it, I got it bad. Oh, and they're selective, too. One bridge I can't do, another one, exactly the same, I can. One dip with a rooty out is no problem, the next one will stop me cold. And I'm my own worst enemy. A year ago, someone said to me, in exasperation, "Jennifer, what is wrong with you?" I'm sure she didn't mean it to become a catchphrase that I flagellate my self with, but alas, it has. I can't turn off the negative tapes that loop in my head, no matter how hard I try.
So, the other day, HWWR and I were riding along and there was a probably 4" log in the path. No big deal, I should be able to clear it with ease. NOT. Like a horse refusing a jump, I just stopped cold. I approached it about three times before I said 'forget it', and apologized profusely for my idiocy. HWWR kindly dragged the log off the trail and we continued the ride. (HWWR is a kind fellow.) I can't do the hard stuff with other people watching, no matter how friendly, nice or kind they are.
It is an internal battle. I want to get better, but if I'm all worked up and afraid then I'm not having fun and what's the point in that?
So when I went out yesterday, I decided to try jumping logs. After all, there was no one else around (to judge or condemn me.) I found a place on a double track that had lots of fallen branches around. At first I set up 3 fairly small ones and practiced on those. No problem. Then I found a bigger log, bigger than the one I had refused the day before. I avoided it the first time by, but turned around and nailed it. It felt like jumping a horse. (Something I haven't done in over 30 years, mind you.) And I did it again and again. It was fun. It was good.
So, yay for me. One more tiny baby step towards proficiency (at least how I define it.)
OK, and it was a really good day for seeing wildlife. Let me count: one gopher tortoise, two wild turkeys, one raccoon, two whitetail deer, one wild hog, one snake (may have been a moccasin; didn't get close enough to figure is out) and two bald eagles. And today had a ride with hubby Ed and my friend Susan. Saw a large bird swoosh down ahead of me and land right by the trail. I came abreast of it and was staring at a very large owl. It took flight, leaving behind a dead squirrel. I'm sure it came back for his late breakfast after we were gone.
I had two solo rides this week. Thursday was on my road bike at Flatwoods and put in about 32 miles in two hours. Friday I was on my mountain bike and put in a little over 17 miles in about two hours. Both days had my IPOD on, rocking to tunes. I was so miserable by the end of the road ride; I just wanted it to end. I was bored, bored, bored. Not so on my mountain bike. I was happy and mellow and sorry the ride was over. So, I need to make sure that I've got someone to ride with when I do road rides.
NP: Frank Turner Poetry of the Deed
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