Training the Never Defeated Spirit

In approximately 12 days, depending on how you count it - The Bandit Man, my cousin Watson, my brother, a friend of his, and I will take to the sides of Gunstock Mountain in NH and run into the jaws of a Tough Mudder. This will be my second Mudder (and Watson's as well). The rest of the team are newbies. My brother is, however the veteran of many a Spartan and Warrior Dash.

I ran my first Mudder solo last October, I learned an awful lot about what I'm made of inside and out. (More on that here.) But Tough Mudder is meant to be a team. It's designed for that, and while participating solo has its own rewards, a team is well, just that - the right approach for the challenge at hand.

Our team is named "Never Defeated".

Never Defeated: What's In a Name

This isn't a competition. Tough Mudder Pledge, Part 1 - Tough Mudder is not a race, but a challenge.  And parts 2 and  4 - This is about teamwork and camaraderie, helping fellow Mudders comes before course time.

So it's not as though we each all win competitions all the time, well maybe my brother does, but that's another story. The idea behind the name is that as a team we have what it takes to never be defeated by anything; mud, heights, distance, electricity, water, cold, heat - all of these things cannot claim to have trodden us down. But more so than the physical is the heart.

Tough Mudder talks about mental grit. Yes, your physical strength gets you over and through, but it is what you carry in your heart and mind that determines if you really win.

And that is something we put to the test in 12 days.

Training the Never Defeated Spirit

We all have been preparing in different ways, as team Never Defeated gathers from more than one state. But being only myself, here I will share my part of this tale.

Last Monday I ran ten and a half miles. I hadn't run in a month due to a foot injury. It was wonderful to run again.

During that month, while I couldn't run I could ride.

Ride a bike, you see.

Boston Populaire

The Bandit Man and I took part in a parcel of the NER's Boston Populaire but made our own route.

Day 1, 70 miles, a longer winding route to my mother's house than last November. This time sun, sunburns, and still the always dependable hills. Left the randonneur route in Sterling, and went to my childhood home. It meant a DNF (did not finish), but our journeys never fit into molds very well.

Day 2, 65 miles back to Somerville.

A two-day century, well more than a century actually, it was 130 miles+ by the end.

The most I've ever ridden in a day, and in consecutive days.

The goal of the century draws near.

Run On

And since the foot has been back in action - what then?

Also the Bandit Man and I, and he has been able to partake more-so than I (early morning work hours call one in), of the wonderful November Project. Morning people, being active, joyous and pushing the limits year-round outdoors. Such a lovely invention. I am very new - only twice so far- but this is a group of people I look forward to seeing even on many a cold morning to come when one's breath is in the air.

Here we find exemplified the spirit of never defeated in daily life. Self-motivated, but also team/tribe motivated, and not because someone's wallet is saying "Well, you paid for this, so you'd better show up!". Each one pushing to beat their best, to beat fatigue, self doubt, maybe fear. I see no signs of begrudging life anywhere here.

Small things matter. It is important never to forget how simple a smile and a hug can be in the morning. Especially when it took everything you had to get there. We run up and down Harvard Stadium stairs, we run up hills, we find new places to strengthen our hearts, minds, bodies, spirits, friendships.

We come back again and again because each time we break through we realize the only limits are those we came in with, those we brought with us - so frequently our limitations are those we set for ourselves because of fear. Maybe fear of failing. But the never defeated spirit knows no fear of failing, or at least cowers not before it.

The Tough Mudder itself is one brilliant moment to shine with the never defeated spirit. And training for events like this can take us onto the road of growth and change, to confront the self and develop courage. But it is only one day. The truly never defeated spirit lives in our daily lives, is shown each day. To get up early and run and strive as November Project does, is one way to train and practice, to nurture the never defeated spirit in our daily lives. (There are other ways and many stories one can tell about this kind of development, but for now this is the story I am telling.)

And having company on this journey to the better self is surely one of the finest experiences one can ask for.

From all of this I will learn anew and re-solidify in my life, down to the depths of my being what it is to be truly fearless. Not reckless and crass, not overly cautious and filled with excuses as I once was. But truly free to be and fail and win and laugh and fall and get up again. To dance in my pedals, to dance on my feet. To rise up when I fall and help someone else do the same - whether it's literal mud or the muck of life.

We make mistakes in this lifetime. I'm transforming mine.

I overcome all fears.

And next?

The day after the Mudder, Team Falcor (so far the Bandit Man, and I (and maybe some recruits?)) will ride the Bikes Not Bombs Bike-A-Thon. 65 miles. We'll talk more about that later.

A Grander Vision: the Midnight Marathon and Redefining Security

I wanted to tell a much different story than this, but this is the story that I am going to tell.

Monday was one of the best days, then one of the worst.

And it started on Sunday.

One of the best days...

On Sunday we rode bikes. And that's what made it one of the best days.

We rode from Somerville, then out along the Boston Marathon route to the starting line in Hopkington. We rode up all the hills; up and up and up for a few hours to meet with more than a hundred other cyclists already there.

We were joined not long after by those getting off the special bike-only commuter rail train which stopped in Southborough to disgorge around 700 cyclists.

And then we rode the Boston Marathon at midnight, as many of us had done before.  For five or so years now what began as Greg Hum's idea has become a movement of sorts. This year being the biggest yet.

And so Sunday passed into Monday and it was one of the best days.

When you bike along quiet roads in beautiful nature with little disturbance from cars, surrounded by friends and like-minded individuals - especially on the way back when everything is downhill - and the miles and the stress melt away - that's when it's one of the best days.

When we crossed the finish line in the early hours of Monday to so many smiling faces and friendly law enforcement officials along the way - we were so pleased that the bicycle end of things was safer then last year's Framingham train track debacle.

But as we departed from there in the early hours of the morning, little did we know that about 12 hours later it would become one of the worst days.

One of the worst days...

Later on Monday afternoon - around 3pm or so - there were a couple of explosions by the finish line. Packed with people at one of the most publicized sporting events in the US this was no small situation.

People died, people were injured. The media did as media does. I will leave you to read what you will of the official documentation.

Someone decided to do something horrendous to my beautiful city and I'm not happy about it.

A Grander Vision

Last week I had the opportunity to interview the amazing Sayre Sheldon, long time peace, political, and social activist, professor and so much more. One of the places she has made a mark (or perhaps created the benchmark?) is in women's participation in war and peace activities. In that chance I had to speak with her I was exposed to a mind and a personality that has seen the world change more than once; I heard the view of a far reaching vision.

Moments Like These: a powerless present

When we hit moments like these we want retribution, perhaps harsh justice, we want to get mad. Nothing is quite so disempowering as watching the news, reading the feeds and receiving so much information and yet being powerless to take any seeming real action.

We want to get mad or be able to just do something.

And some people did - more than 1000 people volunteered their homes as places to stay for those who may have been displaced in the chaotic happenings after these harrowing events.

But when we get to the point when we look at what happened on Monday not through the lens of the immediate but of a lesson to be learned, as history - then how will we see it?

And then I learned about Women, Peace, and Security.

I want peace and security in my country, in my lifetime. In my city, in my neighborhood. Sayre says this has something to do with redefining security itself. It has to do with a grander vision for our society, our world.

There was a UN resolution passed back in 2000 - referred to with the rather impersonal sounding call code of S/RES/1325 (short for Security Council Resolution). And it had something to do with women, peace, and security as far as I knew. Then in December 2011 President Obama signed an executive order (Executive Order 13595) that the administration would adopt an official action plan to get in line with this UN Resolution.

And all of that happened before I'd really been paying any attention to any of it.

But it's amazing the power of one person - if we know even just one person who cares about something then it might matter to us too. And now I know more than one person who - these people, rather (and maybe even me too someday) - are making this women, peace, and security thing a reality in this, my own country.

Redefining Security

When those explosions went off the first responders were on the scene - doing their job - and in so many ways doing what no one else can do. And that is part of the definition of security. That's the part we see the need for, and know without having to be told that these kinds of harrowing happenings would be a much darker place without them.

And we owe such gratitude.

But security must needs look beyond the immediate need of the moment. Beyond first hours where the fight of life and death balances on the edge of a knife. Security is defined by so many other moments tied to these dire events.

A day from now, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now, a decade from now - I do not want to hear how this, that, or the other damage to a person was not addressed, not healed. Security is defined by this too. It's not just defensive munitions, options, personnel, tech, and placement. It's not just training. It's not just offensive tactics and position. Security is the health and well being of those injured on Monday years from now. It's the ethos of the city that bore this wound. It is in the immense capacity for compassion that our first responders demonstrated. Will those displaced have food, will those injured - not just physically, but also the wounds of the human heart - have the care they need?

Security in the traditional sense is something we need yes, but a grander vision for security is something we need too. This Women, Peace, and Security resolution (and connected National Action Plan, and WPS Act that is in the works) challenges us to do just that - to rebuild our concept of security.

I'm no lawyer and no legislator but this is why I give a damn about this - not just as a lady person but also - can you believe it - as a cyclist too.

Sunday was one of the best days because the security to be in that place - doing this simple thing with so many others - was in place. We could just be. And that's how Monday was supposed to be.

I'm not a fan of retribution or vengeance. I'm not a fan of violent forms of 'justice'. The only way I know how to change the course of causes that leads to things like this is individual transformation of one person at a time.

My bicycle has taught me humanism, as only a device with such people who love them can. My bicycle has given me a different view of security as something ephemeral. I can put on all the armor in the world but my security depends upon my relationships with others upon the road. Ephemeral security does not mean insubstantial or non-existant - I mean it here to be a trust we put in others - because our civilization does not work without each person - ordinary people are the most important beings in the world.

When we look at ourselves and our place in this world and see security not as locks, chains, alarms, armor, and weapons but rather as the social and community ties that tide us over and heal us long after these others are gone or are obsolete - then we begin to see that grander vision. We begin to redefine security.

But it starts with each one of us.

Reinvention: Charlie the phoenix bicycle?

Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages - this is one of those moments I tend to equate with showing your parents you got an A on the spelling test and a gold star sticker, one they put it on the fridge.

Those gold stars were something else, surreal and powerful to my young mind.

Right now Charlie is the gold star.

I started out half a year ago on a project that I thought might take a weekend, but I let creativity run the show and so it's become a growing opportunity mixed in with a creative outlet.

Charlie the blue fixie returns to the streets at long last!

New old bike day!

He's got a snazzy 700c wheelset I build myself - H Plus Son Archetype rims laced to White Industries track hubs. His lovely 15T splined cog came in. He's running a track chain and has some drop bars.

Old road aesthetics meet some period appropriate componentry with a touch of modern and a side of DIY - mix together and you there you have him.

On the stand, hoods uncovered

By last summer we had racked up over 8k miles together. Mercutio has been the fall and winter mount, earning himself a respectable (approximately) thousand miles. (And now needs a bottom bracket overhaul compliments of winter road grunge.) But now it's Charlie's turn to shine!

Stuck in Winter

Yesterday spring began! Did you notice? or think to look?

I almost didn't, because what did it do the day before? The sky belched winter upon us.

Winter seems to be arriving late, and staying too long. At least here in Boston land anyway.

So what's a girl to do? Besides work and run and bike and drink coffee (or tea increasingly), and dream of spring?

Build a bike of course!

I'm one 15T White Industries splined track cog away from Charlie being up and running as his new overhauled self.

One track cog away from putting the beater away.

One track cog from riding on a wheel set I built myself.

One track cog away from so many things.

One track cog isn't very large. And that's about the distance between now and spring. Between the present and the amazing possibilities around the corner.

So all you need is one track cog's worth of patience. Keep chipping away at the work that needs to get done, and eventually the little hairline fractures in your great obstacle will result in a great breakthrough.

Remember the Old Man on the Mountain in NH? Well, eventually his nose fell off (then the whole of it), and sad as that may be for him, or scenic mountain profiles, I'm excited about that moment, just around the corner when winter's nose falls off too.

Can you feel it in the breeze?

Next mission, clipless pedals for Princess Buttercup, and for me learning how to ride SPD.....

Cars and The Cave

The Bandit Man has excellent ideas, this began once again from one of our conversations - I went one related direction whilst his thought pattern went another in Leaving the Cave Behind.

Cars and The Cave

The conversation began with the comparison to cars and caves. And while I happily point to the Bandit Man to speak his piece in his own way, my tangent went in the direction of Plato, rather than our species' anthropological history.

In Plato's Republic, to relay in brief (in case it's been awhile since you've read it), our reality is compared to shadows on a wall. That we as humankind, dwell in a cave - chained together, facing the back wall of the Cave. The entirety of our perception is the shadows we see cast upon the wall before our eyes. We cannot turn around to see the source of the shadows. We do not know life outside the Cave.

From Plato's perspective - from the perspective of those who followed Metaphysics - this world of ours was only ever a reflection of a more pure world, where the true root of all concepts, all perceivable things comes from. (On a side note, if you've ever read Neal Stephenson's Anathem - this perspective on metaphysics corresponds to the Hyalean Theoric World from the novel.) We have no access to this pure realm of absolute concepts and definitions, we can only perceive small snippets  blurry forms as insubstantial as the shadows upon the Cave wall.

So where do the cars come in?

Cars are rather useful. They get us places, they get us there fast. Ambulances often make the difference between life and death after an accident - getting there swiftly to save a life. We rely upon the vehicles of our law enforcement and fire fighters. Vehicles are part of our society and are useful tools.

But sometimes they're not.

Sometimes our cars are Plato's Cave.

Traffic, fumes, parking spaces and all of the drama and frequent time sucking that goes along with it. For some of the trips the car is not the tool for the job at all. And that's where it becomes the Cave.

Shadows Upon The Wall

Surrounded by metal, plastic and glass one is shielded from the world, from the noise, from physical exertion. There are blind spots. You could be on the phone, as just about every single cab driver in the greater Boston area is all of the time, and neglect to really check for oncoming traffic because of the phone in your hand. (We don't have hands free driving equipment as mandatory in MA.) Perhaps your car can update you on Facebook statuses, and there's always music.

It's not as though you can really chat with the people around you. You're boxed off, a horn blast or a certain finger gesture often the best communication you'll receive. But is that really communication?

And is it worth it to sit in traffic for an hour if you're going less than 10 miles? Public transit doesn't cover the distance so you have to drive, right?

There's another tool for the job actually, and you might like this one.

But beware, it's not a Cave. It can't be.

There's no cushion between you and the world here. This is getting up, removing the chains on perception, turning away from the shadows upon the Cave wall and walking out to see the sun. Maybe for the very first time.

This is a bicycle.

And it doesn't mean you have to bike every day, come rain, snow, sleet, or asteroids. (Although some of us do.)

It's a way to move you and your perception. My bicycle and I were Metro-West commuters, 12 miles each way, each day - and I got to work faster than sitting in traffic, faster than the bus, and I didn't need a gym membership.

Now that's escaping the Cave.

All I ever really needed was the sun and the sky, and the wind on my face. Unfiltered, no windshield, no metal cave to restrain me.

Life outside the Cave has been learning to love transit. It's not the daily grind, it's a bike ride that happens to be to work, or wherever else my legs take me.

Would you like to step outside of the Cave?

The Process of Becoming

There's a quote I love: "To accept is easy, to continue is difficult. But Buddhahood lies in continuing faith." 

A Moment for Philology

Taking a moment to expand on some of the words here. We can take Buddhahood to mean the enlightened aspect of a thing or person, or perhaps the manifest best side of something or someone. E.g., The person who speaks against injustice without regard to their own safety or reputation could perhaps be said to be manifesting the Buddhahood of that situation. Faith, so often a loaded word in politics and interpersonal relations, comes in many forms. Faith in an idea, a movement, a deity, a sports team, a parent, a loved one. But more so here, we're taking faith to mean faith in one's self; faith in one's ability to grow and manifest one's best self. Faith to undertake the challenge to see life exactly for what is it and deal with it, whether we fail or win the first time.

"Fascinating New Thing"

When we start something new it's really exciting. New job, new school, new project, new love, new house, new things... you get the idea. But eventually things are divested of sparkling their newness and we're left with what is.

Oft times that's where we stop. But that's the kicker...

So often, what is is better than the idea of shiny newness that we ascribed. So often what's there is a shining, beautiful thing. But it takes something to get there.

In the process of becoming, so frequently impatience kicks in. Why can't this be done yet? Why am I not there yet? It feels like nothing has changed, all this time has gone by and I still have all these same problems.

In Bicycles as In Life

I am rebuilding Charlie. After over 8000 miles it was about time. Charlie is in the process of becoming his new self.

He's got a little of this:

And some of this:

And some new wheels, but there's the waiting. The parts order is in but there's only so much we can do in the meantime.

And it keeps snowing.

Where are my parts? Why won't it stop snowing, it's March now.

(See what I mean about impatience?)

What I Want, Right Now

That's the thing about continuing. It's not about what I want right now. It's about the big picture, about remembering that when things don't go your way, when it keeps snowing, when everything seems arrayed against you.

Spring will come.

But how you pass the time between now and then is up to you.

Doing the work that's right in front of you, starting where you are is the next step in the process of becoming.

Me, I'm building another bike, but I'm still riding the beater. I'm doing another Mudder, so I'm running. I'm starting a business, so I'm learning.

I'm somewhere in the process of becoming the next best version of me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to throw current me into the bilge trap. This me is pretty awesome too, because she is continuing, even though the destination is over the horizon.

What I'm Capable of: Mental Grit and Bikes Not Bombs

Well last year I did a my first Tough Mudder solo, more on that here.

And I rode home for the first time solo, more on that here.

I still haven't ridden a century, and I've got another Tough Mudder coming up in June. This time with a team. I've been running all winter, even with this crazy pile of snow Nemo dumped on Boston last weekend.

I also play taiko, and we've got our first round of competition coming up.

So why not challenge myself a little more.

Enter, the Bikes Not Bombs Bike-a-thon. (If you want to help our donation goal.)

Last year was my first Hub on Wheels (more here), compliments of the Bandit Man. And once again, we endeavor upon a bike ride. The Bandit Man has done the Bike-a-thon for several, many a year (see here). I have not yet participated.

So why not do a Tough Mudder, then the Bike-a-thon, back to back? Supporting The Wounded Warrior Project and Bikes Not Bombs in one weekend. (And it'll be the Bandit Man's birthday!)

I am no triathlete. I am not an elite cyclist like one of my roommates. I am however, stubborn, and I want to see what I can do.

So spring training has a new meaning. Running, biking, and drums.

I'm already running 8 miles with hill climbs, so let's see what we can do next!

Looks like a job for.... Princess Buttercup (aka the Bumblebee Bianchi bike)....