tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68756205911197722582024-03-05T03:04:19.635-05:00Tour de What You WillMusings on Bicycles and Buddhism. Broadcasting from the fair city of Boston and its surroundings.jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-84880391864625564132015-07-20T21:31:00.000-04:002019-02-21T11:25:02.909-05:00Yearning for the Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<i>Yearning for the road, your twists, your turns. Your subtle curves; gravel, dirt, pavement. </i></div>
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<i>The climbs that hurt, the descents that thrill. Those times when the air is wrenched from my burning lungs as I try to prove that, yes, this time I can. I will climb <a href="http://furtherfasterforever.com/" target="_blank">further, faster, forever</a>. </i><br />
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<i>I want so much to be with you Road, where I pedal all the darkness, all the pain, and the disappointment I've ever known into joy. Where I pedal through the good times and the bad in this dialogue with nature. Nothing quite compares to you.</i><br />
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By this point so many have been riding their mountain bikes in woods or in races, or bikes on the trail or the peloton or in any and many an adventure journey, summer is for bikes. But for me, for now, my conversation with the road is one of those <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2013/12/winters-heart-dreaming-of-spring.html" target="_blank">dreams of summer</a>.<br />
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I yearn for the road like a long lost friend. I ride to and from work and everything else every day, year round. It's not just time on the bike that I yearn for, it's the road.<br />
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This spring and summer have seen my time at work be long, for historic peace accords only come once in a lifetime (these days). Travel too, but all on a mission. Coursework in my enduring labor of love with the Japanese language has claimed my waking hours as well.<br />
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<i>But no matter how long the hours since last we met, as the days dawn hot and long, Road I yearn for you.</i><br />
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Cyclocross will come when it comes and at that time I will rejoice. Road racing is a magnificent thing but not in the plans for now. <br />
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What I long for are those long hours on quiet New England back roads with the speckled shade playing through the leaves above me. I long for the satisfaction that comes from challenging a climb and a distance and winning over myself, not a Strava segment, but something inside. No matter the distance, type, or speed so much of this is what we carry inside, and that's the challenge of a lifetime.<br />
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Since competing in cycling I've grown in ways I could never have imagined before. I so admire those that make this their life, those that make it possible, those that make the bikes, those that give their all for what they love.<br />
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But this small love letter is for where it all began, one girl's love affair with the road by bike.<br />
<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-67031814789040905482013-12-22T12:47:00.000-05:002013-12-22T12:50:20.470-05:00Winter's Heart Dreaming of SpringThe miles pass by as I pedal on. Clipped in and on. The hills flow past, the sweat, the summer wind. I am almost there, fifty miles down - this trip a rare solo journey. Over the bridges in the woods, this one small rail trail - in this shade and by these brooks the temperature dips a few kind degrees. The worst hills will find me on the other end of this tiny section of solace. The hills I have had to walk up before will not win this time, I vow.<br />
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In this place the pain is less. Things aren't so great at home. It's not the same big problems like before, but sinister new ones that infect the spaces and the places that felt like home. And yet not. They have been with me always, just manifesting differently now than they used to. And so I pedal on.<br />
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The hills and the heat beg me stop. But in this pain, legs burning, lung yearning, I am purified. I am cleansed of all that came before, all that makes me lose my confidence, my sense of me.<br />
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In this space my imagination soars again, up into the cloudless blue sky. My solitary self upon the road free to be and dream and hope in ways that daily life does not afford me with its demands, its expectation, its endless hunger for efficiency.<br />
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Here the road is mine, the sky is mine, and my dreary self rejoices. I am revitalized. I am made whole again by this one simple act.<br />
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It is not that hope is gone, or that other things places and activities are less or less wonderful, less rejuvenating, or somehow tainted. It is not that the people I love are any less marvelous and wonderful, or that I lack gratitude for the fortune to know and love them. It is a different journey than that.<br />
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At the end of the day there is no one to wrestle my demons but me. I would not, I shall not compare them to anyone else's demons - you have yours and I mine - and we are allies and we help one another, but at the end of the day it's me and my demons.<br />
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And this is my favorite battlefield. For now, for me this is where my mettle is truly tested. It wasn't always this battleground, it may not always be this battleground, but for now this is the where.<br />
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The hills come, the pain comes. I arrive, those last few pedal strokes into the driveway and up to the porch where they are waiting, the most delicious reward. The embrace of a place. I have done it. I won the hills. I won over the demons in me. I am made anew and eagerly anticipate the ride back tomorrow, no matter what my legs feel now.<br />
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I sleep that rare sleep of true accomplishment. I awaken.<br />
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And I remember that it is winter. My heart yearns for the roads to come, in spring, in full bloom.<br />
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There is a little yearning pang of pain in my heart, for it is winter.<br />
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But winter always turns into spring.jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-23901641502585376182013-08-13T09:33:00.002-04:002013-08-13T09:36:07.615-04:00Manning the TillerI heard somewhere once that you get sea sick because you're at the whim of the waves. You're not in control and that helplessness is sickening. But the man (somehow it's almost always a man in the stories) at the tiller - the man steering the ship doesn't get sea sick. Why? Because he's steering the boat.<br />
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And I suppose life is like that.<br />
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Feel tired, overwhelmed? Want to avoid the things you used to love? At cross-purposes with yourself? "Won't everyone just leave me alone!" "Why do I have to keep being interrupted?" "I feel trapped in this place." "This doesn't feel like home anymore." "It's too loud here, I can't hear myself think." "I can't be myself here."<br />
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We live in an interconnected universe. Our very existence depends on others, and they on us - this inter-related dependence of life on life on life on the environment and back on forth is called <i>dependent origination</i> in Buddhism.<br />
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It doesn't have to mean we live at the whim of an arbitrarily cruel or kind universe. Buddhism says the opposite, that the universe is a cosmic life of infinite compassion, that we are as inherently part of as the cells that make up your body. Are you your cells or the amalgamation thereof or something more?<br />
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<b><i>Grasp the Tiller</i></b><br />
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Even amongst this inter-dependency there is agency and responsibility. The person at the tiller of the ship cannot tell the sea what to do, the sea is too large, too beyond the power and comprehension of one life form, too expansive to be persuaded to change by one tiller.<br />
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Yet the person at the tiller guides the ship toward the goal in this environment. And in so doing does not fall prey to the whims of the waves, which themselves may not be helping in the transit to the goal.<br />
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The waves in between are just part of the journey, the goal is paramount. The control of the journey to the goal gives the tiller-operator agency and independence. The sea is still there, the waves that countermand the goal are still there - but operating with determination in an interdependent system makes for a journey of purpose, free from that one ill, seasickness.<br />
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<b><i>Complaint</i></b><br />
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We complain for all sorts of reasons. But what many of them come down to is that things are not how <i>we</i> would have made them. Much complaint comes from lack of responsibility or a feeling of not being in control.<br />
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No control? Make some goals - chart a course for your ship and pilot that great journey beyond your comfort zone.<br />
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It's always someone else's fault? Somehow things never go your way? People never really do what they say they're going to do, they never get it right. They don't get it? Take responsibility. We're all interconnected. When one person stands up to take responsibility and makes goals, everything can change. This boat is carrying more than just one life you know.<br />
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Will you pilot your own ship?<br />
<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-6131049389590711492013-07-11T21:20:00.000-04:002013-10-18T11:31:01.046-04:00The Cheerful Caboose: My First Century<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Tales from the Road</i><br />
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<b><i>Shared pain is lessened, shared joy is increased.<br />Thus we refute entropy.<br />--Spider Robinson</i></b></div>
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Last Sunday I rode <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/1375217" target="_blank">my first century</a>. In bicycle-speak that's a 100 mile ride. I'd ridden a metric century, 100k, before - every time I've ridden to my childhood home where my mother still resides has meant another. One hundred kilometers is a good ride these days, but it doesn't represent the distance challenge it used to. (On the other hand if you fill it with hills, it's still just as difficult.)</div>
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But to this point, never yet 100 miles.</div>
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In the cycle-verse a century is some kind of stepping stone. Maybe even a right of passage? And mine was a long time coming. Within the past 3 months I have taken to my most consistent longer-distance riding. I'm not talking anything like what endurance teams do or what stage races mean, I just mean for me anything over 60 miles still feels like a pretty long way.</div>
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And I <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-voyage-into-clipless.html" target="_blank">voyaged into clipless</a> about a month ago.</div>
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All to do this.</div>
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<b><i>Rapha Women's 100</i></b><br />
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July 7th marked the <a href="http://www.rapha.cc/womens100" target="_blank">Rapha Women's 100</a> - all around the world, women on bikes riding perhaps a metric century, perhaps an imperial century. I participated in a joint ride effort put together by the most excellent folks at <a href="http://rawrbikes.com/" target="_blank">RAWRbikes</a> in concert with <a href="http://ridestudiocafe.com/womens100/" target="_blank">RideStudioCafe</a> in Lexington. This was my first group ride of this nature.</div>
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Last fall was my first Hub on Wheels - my first large-scale, coordinated bike ride for a purpose; and in June the Bikes Not Bombs Bike-A-Thon was my second. In both of these I rode primarily amongst many other strangers and acquaintances, primarily with the Bandit Man as my only dedicated riding companion. Social bike rides and themed bike rides, like Boston by Bike at Night or the Boston Bike Party are familiar to me. </div>
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The ethos and protocol of this kind of road ride was pretty new to me. Any training I completed was either solo or with the Bandit Man. I signal my stops and directions but much more than the idea of don't leave anyone behind, I was new to.</div>
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Our ride was divided into different speed groups. The faster 17-19 mph group left first. In the promotional/planning materials we were told that there would be a 14-15 mph group and a 13 mph group.</div>
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One other thing I have very little knowledge of is how fast I actually ride. I can guess from how long certain rides take, but I generally map them after and forget to keep track of how long my stops are.</div>
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I do not yet have a bicycle computer.</div>
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From conversations in passing I had a pretty good idea that 14mph would be a challenge for me to maintain with so much climbing for so long a distance. </div>
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And I was correct.</div>
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Of my marvelous century group <a href="http://instagram.com/p/be9myJO3EV/" target="_blank">several of us were first timers</a>. I was grateful not to be the only one. </div>
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So we set off - our fearless leader consistently setting us on the true course.</div>
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<b><i>Hyperventilating</i></b></div>
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On a hill in Stow I met my lungs. This hill has a decently steep grade (~9%) and I attacked it. And I forgot to breathe. I started hyperventilating half way up the hill. I vaguely recognized a need to stop but I couldn't unclip. So I performed a strategic fall over on someone's lawn. Unclipped, got up - lungs heaving. By this point everyone had gone by. I was anxious and not at all recovered. I was faced with how I really was not conditioned well enough for a hill of this magnitude, not at that speed at any rate.</div>
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So I pulled air and made it up the last part of the hill where my group was waiting. And then the hyperventilating began in earnest. Looking back I think this was equal parts lack of air and confronting my very apparent limits in this situation. </div>
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Most of my hill battles, moments of truth, and failures have been on solo missions, or with the Bandit Man.</div>
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Struggling for breath, tears streaming down my face - this was my public moment of truth.</div>
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One of our participants was a physician who inquired about my heart rate, if I'd eaten enough, and was generally very helpful and calming - I have an immense appreciation for her. </div>
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After that as we climbed each hill - and there were a lot of hills - everyone asked how I was doing.</div>
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I was mildly embarrassed at first, but the genuine concern of people you've only just met is an encouraging thing.</div>
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I don't consider myself to be a strong climber but over the course of the day I think I actually got better.</div>
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Problems I've had all along as I've taken on longer distance rides - pacing, cadence, which gear, do I stand up or stay in the saddle, remembering to breathe, suddenly started to sort themselves out. Yes I did have to walk up a couple of steep grades (according to what I looked up on ridewithgps these were more than 9% grades), and yes I was incredibly slow, but some of the painful mystery became empowering realizations.</div>
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Overall my cycling is not the the point where I could even maintain the 14 mph to stay with my group. I was consistently the last person, losing sight of our mini-peloton. At each navigational stop they waited for those of us who had fallen behind, myself usually the farthest back. </div>
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As my jersey was red and I was at the end, so most naturally I was named myself the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caboose" target="_blank">caboose</a>.</div>
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And as the miles went on I was told I was a very cheerful caboose.<br />
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<b><i>The Cheerful Caboose</i></b></div>
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The hyperventilating moment of truth unlocked something important. That moment was a struggle in the deepest sense - a struggle we all face again and again in life, the place where expectation meets reality. We have goals, or expectations of perhaps a level of performance or insert yours here and eventually when it meets reality <a href="http://bikesandbeats.tumblr.com/image/6040180330" target="_blank">we must face it for exactly what it is</a>. </div>
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Sometimes it delights and enthralls us. Sometimes it disappoints. These moments of publicly discovering either weakness or strength have always been deeply changing for me. When I competed in horseback riding in college I cried every time I rode in a show, whether I placed well or poorly. It never failed. On some of these long bike rides I have been reduced to tears.</div>
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But that hill, that moment let me shed the transient and reveal the truth - that no matter what I was going to do this. That my present level of climbing or biking or strength or what-have-you is only the beginning of what is possible. Maybe I'm not "good at bikes" the way racers and long-time enthusiasts are yet, but my love of cycling powers my persistence to get me there.</div>
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After that moment of truth I was free to learn to climb better. Appreciate another one of our group members teaching me to draft, which I was not able to maintain. Appreciate the birds, the land, the potholes, the deer flies, the sun, the music in my heart - each and every sore muscle, delay, or advance.</div>
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I was the cheerful caboose because I was weighed, measured, and found myself wanting - and wanting to continue anyway. Having been revitalized by others I did my utmost to reciprocate - when a fellow first timer centurian dropped a chain I stopped to help. When one of my fellow riders was the last on the climbs with me, we stayed together. </div>
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I also must shout my gratitude to our <a href="https://twitter.com/acindysays" target="_blank">amazing ride leader</a> (vocabulary word: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domestique" target="_blank">domestique</a>) for waiting for my lagging self at the turns then riding all the way back to the front to lead the main group onward. Patience thy name is domestique (or maybe just Cindy?).</div>
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I was one of the few to ride to RSC before the ride, a simple seven or so miles from my house. But as the ride concluded and the rain began (which I relished!), the simple seven miles home seemed a very long way indeed. The Bandit Man in his kindness rode out in the rain from Somerville to meet my dirty, smelly, exhausted husk on the Minuteman to ride back home. </div>
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By the end of the day it was 115 miles and more climbing than I have ever done before. And I am gaming for more!</div>
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Future cycling education will probably include, pacelines, drafting, a bicycle computer, and more miles of self discovery.<br />
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jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-20502666850037401302013-06-17T14:41:00.000-04:002013-07-05T10:49:33.612-04:00A Voyage Into Clipless<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Tales from the Road</i></div>
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So I lay on the path with gravel embedded in my knee and I laughed. Bike on top of me, a couple of people going by and they may very well have figured that I'd completely lost it. But <i>that</i> was a good laugh.<br />
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You see, I'd just gone my first 60 some odd miles with clipless shoes and pedals.<br />
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With the final 10 miles and the most challenging hills yet to come I was getting a little tired and did not disengage my foot in time. I've got a few scratches and a purple knee but I earned my newbie markings with pride.<br />
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This entire change has been a long time coming.<br />
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<i><b>Late for Dinner</b></i><br />
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I get into things late. When I was seven and I couldn't transition out of training wheels I made the kind of cut-and-dried decision that young children seem so good at; I decided I would never bike again and I would be damned if I kept those training wheels on at that age. Three years went by and I started riding horses in between. At the ripe old age of ten I got on a bike for the first time in three years, and just rode. Wobbly yes, but there was no going back after that.<br />
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My story followed that frequently told tale, I bicycled everywhere until I could drive. Then I kept biking. College came, but I did not take my try at urban cycling until I moved off-campus and the advent of Gus the hybrid commuter. When Charlie came along I learned to ride with the toe basket (aka toe clip) pedals that he came with. But ever on the periphery of my cyclist observations from biking around were these shoe/pedal interfaces - part of both the shoe and the pedal that I saw seemingly <i>certain</i> people had. Science fiction bicycle feet.<br />
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(And as a linguist, that they're called <a href="http://gizmodo.com/5990381/why-you-should-switch-to-clipless-pedals" target="_blank">clipless</a> when they are actually clips is ever so annoying..If this is a new thing for you, read <a href="http://gizmodo.com/5990381/why-you-should-switch-to-clipless-pedals" target="_blank">this</a>.)<br />
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<b><i>Changes</i></b><br />
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This past year has brought a lot of changes. At this time last year I had only one bicycle and was still relatively ignorant of how to care for it properly. (Now I have 3 and do most of the maintenance myself.) At this time last year I'd never built up a bike. (Now I've built up several.) At this time last year my longest bike ride had been about 30 miles. (Now I've gone over a metric century a few times.) At this time last year I would never have tried to do some of the things I do now.<br />
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<a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2012/11/in-my-fathers-shoes-or-pedals-rather.html" target="_blank">Last fall</a>, in one of those manic ideas that seems great at the time, I took my exhausted self on my first 60 mile bike ride. I was struggling so deeply at work and in my life at the time biking alone on an unknown route, in 20+mph headwinds, in November with no support, no specialized equipment, no experience, and a yearning desire to prove something to myself all seemed like a great idea.<br />
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I <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hitting_the_wall" target="_blank">bonked</a>, but I did it. It took me seven hours and multiple times getting lost, but I made it.<br />
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While it snowed all winter I dreamed of biking more and further than I could imagine was physically possible for me.<br />
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<b><i>Clipless Voyages</i></b><br />
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As I trained for the Bikes Not Bombs Bike-A-Thon I rode with the Bandit Man many times. The Bandit Man, being as he is, can climb hills with his rocketship legs. To my observance he has never met a hill he couldn't climb. Myself on the other hand, I've meet with hills and they have won, time and again - relegating me to walking up them.<br />
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The November solo ride where I bonked had me walking up all the hills for the last 10 miles. And it's those 10 miles that have the most hills. In April the Bandit Man accompanied me on the ride home, part of which was the Boston Populaire route by the NER. <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2013/05/a-better-page-to-turn-to.html" target="_blank">With getting lost and making up the last part of the route to my mother's house, that day's ride was over 70 miles.</a> There were many hills. I walked up quite a few. The Bandit Man climbed them all and waited for me at the top.<br />
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That was my first long ride this year. In late March I struggled with just 30 miles. In April I was able to do over 50 for the Midnight Marathon Ride (out and back, no hill walking there!). The day after the 70+ mile ride, we rode the 65 miles back. Back and forth the training rides have gone - I've made a <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/2593370" target="_blank">route</a> that is just about 70 miles long and finally have it memorized, so that's helped with time and stopping.<br />
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But those hills keep pestering me.<br />
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Long over the winter I asked the pro-cyclist of my household for her product reviews on clipless pedals. She has consistently answered my ridiculous questions on all manner of topics for which I am incredibly grateful.<br />
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And so came my voyage into clipless. On Saturday I rode 70 miles clipless. And 70 the next day.<br />
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I had never quite realized how tilty I ride. The shoes have rather helped realign me. My body was confused as it fought to put me back into my off-kilter, one shoulder pitched up and front, hips facing too far to the left position I have adopted unconsciously over the years. Once I stopped fighting this I found that I did not hurt as much and tire as quickly. My legs got more bang for their buck. The time it took to reach my destination was shortened.<br />
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I was floored.<br />
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<b><i>Back to the Top</i></b><br />
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As as I fell over on the Wachusett Greenway, and later at a red light in Somerville I got to laugh. As I've acquired the scrapes and purple knee I wear my newbie badges with honor. I'm learning how to ride all over again and it's great.<br />
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Maybe you're never too old to start anew?<br />
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<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-61231547555674160572013-06-02T14:05:00.000-04:002013-07-03T14:05:51.186-04:00Charlie Day!June 2, 2013 marks <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2010/10/charlies-post.html" target="_blank">Charlie</a>'s third birthday with me.<br />
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After spending last fall and winter "out to pasture", waiting for me to build him some <a href="http://instagram.com/p/VTzofSO3Bf/" target="_blank">new wheels</a> and change up a few things, Charlie was brought back to the roads of Somerville in late March.<br />
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He's been rebuilt. My first wheelset, <a href="http://instagram.com/p/XUveWku3EW/" target="_blank">White Industries track hubs</a> laced to H Plus Son Archetype rims. New <a href="http://instagram.com/p/YV1_ciu3F_/" target="_blank">cranks by FSA</a> (Full Speed Ahead). He's running 42:15, instead of the old 40:16. New breaks and cabling - hat tip to <a href="http://broadwaybicycleschool.com/" target="_blank">Broadway Bicycle School</a> for the instruction on that and the wheel building. <a href="http://instagram.com/p/V9z5PMu3HU/" target="_blank">Drop bars</a> which once belonged to <a href="http://epicstratton.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Mr. Epic</a> - purchased at the <a href="http://www.geekhousebikes.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/289822_10152120410205089_1343630748_o.jpg" target="_blank">Bike Swap</a>. Same old bottom bracket, head set, and saddle.<br />
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Rolling strong toward 10,000 miles. Or do we have to start over now that he's been rebuilt?jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-5043217277376840052013-05-20T20:48:00.003-04:002013-05-21T11:42:14.422-04:00Training the Never Defeated SpiritIn approximately 12 days, depending on how you count it - <a href="http://howahumanwon.org/" target="_blank">The Bandit Man</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/4JenniferG" target="_blank">my cousin Watson</a>, 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.<br />
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I ran my first Mudder solo last October, I learned an awful lot about what I'm made of inside and out. (<a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2012/10/mental-grit-and-dragon-kings-daughter.html" target="_blank">More on that here.</a>) 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.<br />
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Our team is named "<i>Never Defeated</i>".<br />
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<b><i>Never Defeated: What's In a Name</i></b><br />
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This isn't a competition. <a href="http://toughmudder.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/toughmudder_pledge.pdf" target="_blank">Tough Mudder Pledge</a>, Part 1 -<i> Tough Mudder is not a race, but a challenge</i>. And parts 2 and 4 - This is about teamwork and camaraderie, helping fellow Mudders comes before course time.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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And that is something we put to the test in 12 days.<br />
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<b><i>Training the Never Defeated Spirit</i></b><br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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During that month, while I couldn't run I could ride.<br />
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Ride a bike, you see.<br />
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<b><i>Boston Populaire</i></b><br />
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The Bandit Man and I took part in a parcel of the <a href="http://www.bostonbrevets.com/" target="_blank">NER's Boston Populaire</a> but made our own route.<br />
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<i>Day 1, 70 miles,</i> a longer winding route to my mother's house <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2012/11/in-my-fathers-shoes-or-pedals-rather.html" target="_blank">than last November</a>. 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.<br />
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<i>Day 2, 65 miles</i> back to Somerville.<br />
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A two-day century, well more than a century actually, it was 130 miles+ by the end.<br />
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The most I've ever ridden in a day, and in consecutive days.<br />
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The goal of the century draws near.<br />
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<i><b>Run On</b></i><br />
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And since the foot has been back in action - what then?<br />
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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 <a href="http://november-project.com/" target="_blank">November Project</a>. 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.<br />
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Here we find exemplified the spirit of <i>never defeated </i>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.)<br />
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And having company on this journey to the better self is surely one of the finest experiences one can ask for.<br />
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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.<br />
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We make mistakes in this lifetime. I'm transforming mine.<br />
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<i>I overcome all fears.</i><br />
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<b><i>And next?</i></b><br />
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The day after the Mudder, <a href="https://bikesnotbombs.org/civicrm/pcp/info?reset=1&id=1541" target="_blank">Team Falcor (so far the Bandit Man, and I (and maybe some recruits?)) </a>will ride the Bikes Not Bombs Bike-A-Thon. 65 miles. We'll talk more about that later.<br />
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<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-10970422700420680122013-04-16T21:35:00.000-04:002013-04-17T10:01:46.381-04:00A Grander Vision: the Midnight Marathon and Redefining SecurityI wanted to tell a much different story than this, but this is the story that I am going to tell.<br />
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Monday was one of the best days, then one of the worst.<br />
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And it started on Sunday.<br />
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<i>One of the best days...</i><br />
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On Sunday we rode bikes. And that's what made it one of the best days.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://thehum.bostonbiker.org/" target="_blank">Greg Hum's</a> idea has become a movement of sorts. This year being the biggest yet.<br />
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And so Sunday passed into Monday and it was one of the best days.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2012/05/tales-from-road-midnight-marathon-ride.html" target="_blank">last year's Framingham train track debacle.</a><br />
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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.<br />
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<i>One of the worst days...</i><br />
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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.<br />
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People died, people were injured. The media did as media does. I will leave you to read what you will of the official documentation.<br />
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Someone decided to do something horrendous to my beautiful city and I'm not happy about it.<br />
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<b><i>A Grander Vision</i></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<i>Moments Like These: a powerless present</i><br />
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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.<br />
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We want to get mad or be able to just do <i>something</i>.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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<i>And then I learned about Women, Peace, and Security.</i><br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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And all of that happened before I'd really been paying any attention to any of it.<br />
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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.<br />
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<b><i>Redefining Security</i></b><br />
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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.<br />
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And we owe such gratitude.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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But it starts with each one of us.<br />
<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-26326521401801125422013-03-28T07:57:00.003-04:002013-03-28T07:58:38.845-04:00Reinvention: 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.<br />
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Those gold stars were something else, surreal and powerful to my young mind.<br />
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Right now Charlie is the gold star.<br />
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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.<br />
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Charlie the blue fixie returns to the streets at long last!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the stand, hoods uncovered</td></tr>
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<br />
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!<br />
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<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-17233050592203594852013-03-21T12:36:00.000-04:002013-03-21T12:36:17.867-04:00Stuck in WinterYesterday spring began! Did you notice? or think to look?<br />
<br />
I almost didn't, because what did it do the day before? The sky belched winter upon us.<br />
<br />
Winter seems to be arriving late, and staying too long. At least here in Boston land anyway.<br />
<br />
So what's a girl to do? Besides work and run and bike and drink coffee (or tea increasingly), and dream of spring?<br />
<br />
Build a bike of course!<br />
<br />
I'm one 15T White Industries splined track cog away from Charlie being up and running as his new overhauled self.<br />
<br />
One track cog away from putting the beater away.<br />
<br />
One track cog from riding on a wheel set I built myself.<br />
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One track cog away from so many things.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Remember the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Man_of_the_Mountain" target="_blank">Old Man on the Mountain in NH</a>? 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.<br />
<br />
Can you feel it in the breeze?<br />
<br />
Next mission, clipless pedals for Princess Buttercup, and for me learning how to ride SPD.....jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-64143765496252487732013-03-11T08:35:00.001-04:002013-03-12T07:33:13.315-04:00Cars and The CaveThe Bandit Man has excellent ideas, this began once again from one of our conversations - I went one related direction <a href="http://howahumanwon.org/transportation/2013/03/LeavingTheCaveBehind.html" target="_blank">whilst his thought pattern went another in Leaving the Cave Behind</a>.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Cars and The Cave</i></b><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
In Plato's <i>Republic</i>, 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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>Anathem</i> - 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.<br />
<br />
<i>So where do the cars come in?</i><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
But sometimes they're not.<br />
<br />
Sometimes our cars are Plato's Cave.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Shadows Upon The Wall</i></b><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
There's another tool for the job actually, and you might like this one.<br />
<br />
But beware, it's not a Cave. It can't be.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
This is a bicycle.<br />
<br />
And it doesn't mean you have to bike every day, come rain, snow, sleet, or asteroids. (Although some of us do.)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Now that's escaping the Cave.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Would you like to step outside of the Cave?jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-89207547370569703462013-03-06T10:39:00.001-05:002013-03-08T11:29:07.376-05:00The Process of BecomingThere's a quote I love: <i>"To accept is easy, to continue is difficult. But Buddhahood lies in continuing faith." </i><br />
<br />
<b><i>A Moment for Philology</i></b><br />
<br />
Taking a moment to expand on some of the words here. We can take <i>Buddhahood</i> 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. <i>Faith</i>, 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 <i>faith</i> 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.<br />
<br />
<b><i>"Fascinating New Thing"</i></b><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Oft times that's where we stop. But that's the kicker...<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
In the process of becoming, so frequently impatience kicks in. <i>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.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b><i>In Bicycles as In Life</i></b><br />
<br />
I am rebuilding Charlie. After over 8000 miles it was about time. Charlie is in the process of becoming his new self.<br />
<br />
He's got a little of this:<br />
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And some of this:<br />
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<br />
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.<br />
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And it keeps snowing.<br />
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Where are my parts? Why won't it stop snowing, it's March now.<br />
<br />
(See what I mean about impatience?)<br />
<br />
<b><i>What I Want, Right Now</i></b><br />
<br />
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.<br />
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Spring will come.<br />
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But how you pass the time between now and then is up to you.<br />
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Doing the work that's right in front of you, starting where you are is the next step in the process of becoming.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-17159091047372525522013-02-14T23:59:00.001-05:002013-03-21T08:29:34.479-04:00What I'm Capable of: Mental Grit and Bikes Not BombsWell last year I did a my first Tough Mudder solo, <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2012/10/mental-grit-and-dragon-kings-daughter.html" target="_blank">more on that here</a>.<br />
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And I rode home for the first time solo, <a href="http://tourdewhatyouwill.blogspot.com/2012/11/in-my-fathers-shoes-or-pedals-rather.html" target="_blank">more on that here</a>.<br />
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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.<br />
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I also play taiko, and we've got our first round of competition coming up.<br />
<br />
So why not challenge myself a little more.<br />
<br />
Enter, the <a href="https://bikesnotbombs.org/bike-a-thon" target="_blank">Bikes Not Bombs Bike-a-thon</a>. (If you want to help <a href="https://bikesnotbombs.org/civicrm/pcp/info?reset=1&id=1541" target="_blank">our donation goal</a>.)<br />
<br />
Last year was my first Hub on Wheels (<a href="http://charlieblue.bostonbiker.org/2012/09/24/the-hills-are-alive-with-the-tick-of-derailleurs/" target="_blank">more here</a>), compliments of the <a href="http://howahumanwon.org/transportation/" target="_blank">Bandit Man</a>. And once again, we endeavor upon a bike ride. The Bandit Man has done the Bike-a-thon for several, many a year (<a href="http://teeheehee.bostonbiker.org/2010/06/26/bikes-not-bombs-ride-bring-on-the-heat/" target="_blank">see here</a>). I have not yet participated.<br />
<br />
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!)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
So spring training has a new meaning. Running, biking, and drums.<br />
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I'm already running 8 miles with hill climbs, so let's see what we can do next!<br />
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Looks like a job for.... Princess Buttercup (<a href="http://instagram.com/p/RkZW-Eu3O8/" target="_blank">aka the Bumblebee Bianchi bike</a>)....<br />
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<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-70448773298559632542013-02-08T15:02:00.000-05:002013-02-08T15:02:26.310-05:00True Wheels, True Self<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Wheel Building, part 2</i></div>
<br />
So I've recently had a chance to add wheel building to the eclectic mix of bike nerd skills I've acquired this year.<br />
<br />
Once you've got the wheel laced and get a little tension happening you have to start dealing with lateral truing and radial truing. The wheels I've been building for Charlie have been a challenging set to true radially (i.e. the wheel ought to be a circle, not an oblong-circle-like-thing). No wheel is perfect but these have not been easy. Which has been entirely to my advantage because I get to learn more.<br />
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Lateral true: you spin the wheel in between a set of calipers and identify spots that are warping up (or out, depending upon how you look at it I guess) and tighen the opposite side. Little by little as you deal with the problem areas the calipers come in and the standard deviation of wobbliness (not a technical term), is reduced until your wheel has only maybe one or two millimeters of imperfection.<br />
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Radial true: How good of a circle is it? My rims have some impressive deviation in this regard. Truing radially has taken quite a long time. Still dealing with one problem area at a time, refining the wheel through patience, diligent attention to detail, and an understanding of the bigger picture.<br />
<br />
Once again bicycles help get the deeper meaning out of life. We're not perfect, but how well we roll depends on how we refine ourselves. Just as no one spoke has provided the easy answer to all my wheel building problems, no one quick fix makes life suddenly trouble free.<br />
<br />
We deal with the obstacles as they come up, refining as we go - just like building the wheel. Without an understanding of the bigger picture we might get too caught up in the details and make things worse, but if we ignore the details we cannot refine the current situation.<br />
<br />
Wheels are of course meant to be used. Not just admired, even if they are ever so pretty, like those I am building for Charlie. Through use they break in, and sometimes are damaged, need a spoke replaced, need to be trued again. They also say wheel building is an art form. Our lives are like this, best when used, continuously a work in progress. An art form that's never quite done.<br />
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And isn't that the best part?jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-69355797736836319152013-02-04T14:41:00.005-05:002013-02-04T14:41:43.167-05:00The Only Way Out is ThroughSometimes something happens that has the potential to make us hate what we used to love. After a trying moment of my own last fall it almost happened to me and bicycles. I didn't want to have much of anything more to do with them. It took a couple of weeks and some digging into what really matters to me, and I got over the first hurdle.<br />
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Healing means we have to get through the pain one step at a time, it doesn't happen all at once. And ignoring the pain is definitely not going to help. There is no way around this, the only way out is through.
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A lot of mistakes and Buddhism taught me that. Face your problems head on. They cannot be buried or pushed onto someone else. Cause and effect is very strict like that, think you can avoid anything and you will find it calling back around at some point.
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<br />
Karma is accumulated thought, word, and deed. Karmic cycles of behavior are not necessarily some bad thing as pop culture would point out. We can have good cycles of behavior and negative ones. The negative ones ought to be dealt with head on if we ever want to change our lives.
<br />
<br />
I once read that the definition of insanity was doing something the same way over and over and expecting a different result. How much of our avoidance is just this? Wasted effort. The way around is just that, around - it comes back on itself.
<br />
<br />
The way through may be more difficult, more uncertain, but there is a better me on the other side of it. jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-37866800121980642282013-01-30T15:52:00.002-05:002013-01-30T15:53:33.128-05:00Charlie's Got A Brand New Bag<i><b>Setting the Stage</b></i><br />
<br />
First, channel James Brown, specifically - "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag":<br />
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Then instead of fly dance moves from back in the day - think bicycles.<br />
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<b><i>Charlie</i></b><br />
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My darling, he's old, he's Austrian, there's no one like him - he is a bicycle. We've gone more than eight thousand miles together over the past two and a half years. Late last summer I took him apart because he looked like this once the cranks came off. He needed to be cleaned.<br />
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<br />
He needed a new chainring and a few other things.<br />
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And he's been waiting.<br />
<br />
Mercutio's become the winter bike, he's aluminum so I'm not so worried about the road salt eating him alive, whereas a couple of winters have tried their hands at Charlie's steel. (Princess Buttercup does not come out when there is road salt, she's too fancy for that.)<br />
<br />
So Charlie has waited patiently, but now Charlie's getting a brand new bag.<br />
<br />
Compliments of the most excellent idea of one of my roommates, we are taking the wheel building class at Broadway Bicycle School. Charlie's fly new wheelset, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/91630775@N06/8423822528/in/photostream/" target="_blank">made by yours truly</a> includes a lovely White Industries track hubset laced to H Plus Son Archetype rims.<br />
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Charlie's getting rebuilt, just like me.<br />
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Last year brought a lot of change, and fall brought some more. I always used to think that you had to take what was handed to you and deal with it, but it doesn't have to be like that.<br />
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<b><i><ikeda creativity="" quote=""></ikeda>Building Anew</i></b><br />
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You can build yourself anew. And I'm doing that with life, and I'm doing that for Charlie. The bicycle of my personal awakening, of making me into a cyclist, deserves that. But even outside of anthropomorphizing my bike, people deserve that too.<br />
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You, me, and all the folks out there.<br />
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<shine a="" from="" light="" ls="" of="" quote="" wisdom=""></shine>Some words I continually come back to:<br />
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<i>"<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Indulgence and indolence produce nothing creative. Complaints and evasions reflect a cowardly spirit; they corrupt and undermine life's natural creative thrust. When life is denuded of the will to struggle creatively, it sinks into a state of hellish destructiveness directed at all that lives.</span></i><br />
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<i>Never for an instant forget the effort to renew your life, to build yourself anew. Creativity means to push open the heavy, groaning doorway of life itself. This is not an easy task. Indeed, it may be the most severely challenging struggle there is. For opening the door to your own life is in the end more difficult than opening the door to all the mysteries of the universe.</i></div>
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<i>But to do so is to vindicate your existence as human beings. Even more, it is the mode of existence that is authentically attuned to the innermost truths of life itself; it makes us worthy of the gift of life.</i></div>
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<i>There is no way of life more desolate or more pitiful than one of ignorance of the fundamental joy that issues from the struggle to generate and regenerate one's own life from within. To be human is much more than the mere biological facts of standing erect and exercising reason and intelligence. The full and genuine meaning of our humanity is found in tapping the creative fonts of life itself." </i>-Daisaku Ikeda, from <a href="http://www.daisakuikeda.org/sub/resources/works/essays/educ-essays/the-flowering-of-creative-life-force1.html" target="_blank">"The Flowering of Creative Life Force"</a></div>
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Building Mercutio taught me a lot about the mistaken delusions of perfectionism; Charlie is teaching me how to rebuild and start again, all over again.<br />
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Come spring, we'll be rolling by - renewed, refreshed, rebuilt, and ready for anything.jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-35618062284650588042013-01-22T18:28:00.000-05:002013-01-23T17:31:07.559-05:00What It Means to Be HumanI attended a most interesting talk on quantum computing (and a mess of other things) by a noted professor of MIT in December (in a pub). (Hat-tip to the Bandit Man for this suggestion.)
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Besides sending photons back in time and qubits and such, there was of course talk of parallel dimensions and alien life, the sort of thing often reserved for science fiction. This combined with a recent conversation sent my mind to wandering, here's a paraphrase and a bit of a tangent....
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<i><b>Rodenberry's Vision and My Childhood in Spaceships</b></i>
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I've always loved science fiction. Some lovers of literature and other genres don't quite understand why. It is often seen as some sort escapism. But for those of us who love science fiction, many of us love it because of its power to show us what it means to be human. We seem to have to take a step outside of ourselves to truly understand what it is to be exactly human. To answer, "what really is alien?"; we must look at ourselves and ask "what is it that is truly human?".
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And there's more to it than just fiction or our best stories. Beings that are at once perhaps either supernatural, alien, fantastical, or godly in our stories are removed from the human experience by this otherness. They are not human, yet interact with a human world on a human scope (or near), close enough that we can still relate to the story. It could be argued that stories have to be relate-able on some scale in order to move us. (And probably has been long before this musing...)<br />
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Growing up I always loved watching <i>Star Trek: Next Generation</i>, and while there were crystalline entities, the godlike Q, energy forms, the Borg, and androids, so many of the races met on the Enterprise were humanoid. And while we might argue that from a special effects budget perspective it makes more sense to slap makeup on some actors, I think Gene Rodenberry's vision was deeper than that. That somehow we must often have the mirage of humanity in order to relate to the stories at all.
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I don't think that the probability of (or incredible improbability of) parallel (or convergent) evolution producing unrelated-yet-humanoid life forms all around the cosmos was Rodenberry's point; or the appearance of so many Earth-like (M class) planets either. Those may have helped with not needing space suits in every script. So much of what we have observed in the heavens from our own local star system to exo-planets does not point to the prevalence of human-life-friendly-type-worlds that abound in the realms of science fiction. These observations do not seem to support his hopeful view. But once again I think this link to humanity, in an ecological-story-setting sense, makes for better story telling.
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And so we move from a story telling style of a great alliance of planets, The Federation, governed by a Prime Directive, to an even more intimate story telling methodology: the individual.
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<i><b>Doctor, Archetype, Hero? </b></i><br />
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Coming out of a recent conversation about <i>Doctor Who</i>, came a discussion as the Doctor's function as a hero of the individual. (I've seen just about every episode, even on back to the black and white ones from the '60s all the way to the present revamped version.) He represents the freedom of the individual in a cosmos of standardized, emotionless, conformist, conquest-driven military societies and races. Not all <i>Who</i> nemeses are like this, but the favorite and timeless enemies of the Doctor; e.g. Cyberman, Daleks; demonstrate this behavior. Even the Time Lords themselves, his own people, were strict and hands-off when it came to matters of time travel and space happenings. The Doctor himself is antithetical to their philosophy. He stole a TARDIS and travels anywhere and any-when in space and time without regards to the Time Lord structure and rules. (If he was subject to the parameters of <i>Star Trek</i>'s Prime Directive, he would have been a very, very bad boy.)
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And in his seeming humanity, in both appearance and mannerisms, he reminds those he encounters of the human race what it is to be human. He encourages them to move beyond freaking out or giving up when the going gets tough to remembering how they got there in the first place: through uniquely human brilliance, creativity, determination and teamwork. He remembers humanity when we forget ourselves and so reminds us. All the while constantly having to remind humans that he is not himself human.
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Aliens are so frequently saying how weak, how destructive humans are across the films, tv shows, and books I have encountered.
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Is that how we see ourselves? Or is that how we're challenging ourselves not to see ourselves?
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<i><b>Us, Ordinary People </b></i><br />
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I want to consider for a moment a role the Doctor plays in the lives of so many people who encounter him. He serves to wake people up to the wonder that is the universe in which we live, to the profundity of the nature of the life of the ordinary person. More so in the story lines of recent years, he constantly voices that there is no individual more important and significant in time and space than the ordinary person.
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The great storytelling that has sustained my love of this genre, long past when it was only the forceful insistence of my elder brother than began it, shows with such lucidity; and often in a very uncomfortable way, just what our behavior as human beings looks like outside the norms of our today. Outside our usual days, objects, transit options, and interactions it is easier to see exactly what sort of cruel and generous, destructive and altruistic creatures we are. And this is all from fellow story tellers of our own species.<br />
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<i><b> Look Beneath the Surface</b></i><br/><br/>
Science fiction looks from the lens of the outside and can teach us much. But true and lasting change comes from within, so we must see ourselves as we are, here and now. We must awaken, and there isn't going to necessarily be a goofy alien time traveling rebel to help us wake up. It's the choices we make now - it is a choice to open our eyes and see.
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The choice to wake up or not - the whole point of Buddhism in my understanding is to impact our daily lives on an immensely positive scale so that we can then engender a positive change in society at large - ultimately so that humanism is the common sense of the era. Buddhism issues this challenge to look beneath the surface, to face the current situation for exactly what it is, to transform our present truth into that seemingly ephemeral better tomorrow.
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And the best prescription to see what's really here means going out there and getting a bit messy. That's what the Doctor excels at. And a bicycle can be that lens from inside the present - you don't get to hide behind technology here: face to the wind, it's you and the road and the people and the city and the world. In your face. In real time. Eye to eye. The real human experience.
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A bicycle can tell us a lot about humanity when we look at how we treat our most human forms of transit. All this in the nitty gritty present, not a far-off world, an alternate dimension, or life form we've never seen. This is every day people, those folks we pass and know and don't know and love and hate and ignore and greet... our species.<br />
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And maybe this bicycle is the vehicle of change too.
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My bicycle may have modern components, but it is a time machine. And yes bicycles aren't spaceships. But I think the people who dare to ride them are heroes. Every day, ordinary heroes. It's a simple thing, this bicycle. It doesn't have a warp core, it can't make the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs, as Han Solo says. But it challenges the way we move, the way we think in this ordinary world that is so amazing.<br />
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On a bike you have to look people in the face. You can't hide the humanity of this thing, because it has no real life without a person to make it move.<br />
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A bike helped wake up my life, and it's helping my city wake up - maybe even the world. <br />
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But what can a bike teach us about being human? Sure I pedal and it goes...but there's more...
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My bicycle allows me to confront myself by revealing my behavior as a human being. I don't need a space ship or a time machine to show me what the reality is of being human today.** My human powered transit can teach me that. Humanism on wheels = bicycle. If we ignore our human transit we're ignoring an essential part of us. And just as people who don't introspect and face themselves head on don't grow - how can we? Our treatment of our cyclists can tell us a lot about where we are as human beings right now.<br />
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Will we listen? Will we take action? <br />
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** But I don't mind the idea of a TARDIS:)
jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-53420912199119176422013-01-08T20:38:00.000-05:002013-01-09T13:03:42.421-05:00No Excuses<i>"I can't, I just can't. Because of all these things (insert variables, x, y, z, q) I just can't. And that's all there is to it. I can't and so you must. You must do this because I am unable."</i><br />
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How many times and in how many places have we heard this? It comes in many flavors too...</div>
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...Sometimes it's uplifting: Yoda cannot bring back the Jedi because his time is through, and so it falls to Luke. </div>
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... Sometimes it's a bit irrational: A dear friend who is afraid of spiders will not enter a room where one is present if she can observe it or knows about it until it is removed.</div>
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... Sometimes it's defeat: Something is hard enough that you can't do it right the first time, and so give up.</div>
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We learn in life, in books, in songs, in Buddhism, and - of course - in bicycles that victory comes in many forms. If I had stopped riding just because Gus (my old bike) broke, or Charlie would get flats that I couldn't fix (or any other manner or repair), or it rained or I got lost - then life would not look like what it looks like today. I would not be me. In these, as in so many things, sometimes perseverance is in and of itself the victory. We keep riding, we keep going, because we must, because to give up is to admit defeat - and defeated people don't ride. </div>
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Victory may not be standing at a podium with a medal around your neck, cameras blazing while you give a speech, or receive some delightful recognition. Victory may be that you just pick yourself up and try again, and again and again, until finally something goes right. Never give up.</div>
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It hurts my heart when someone talks this way through the lens of defeat, of fear, of giving up. There's so much more to us than defeat. </div>
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Hemingway writes in the <i>The Old Man and the Sea; </i>"But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated."</div>
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Just because it doesn't work out the way you wanted, or on the first try, or it seems so easy for others while it is so difficult for you doesn't mean you can't; it just means you have to try harder. I have invited myself to live a life of no excuses; I will stop with reasons why I can't and instead redetermine - however many times it takes, to do it and know in my heart I've won.</div>
jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-14091107752933616692012-12-06T15:09:00.002-05:002012-12-06T16:21:01.377-05:00So I broke a chair<i><b>Broken Chair</b> </i><br />
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On Monday evening, whilst having the most delightful chat with my roommate, the chair I was sitting in suddenly broke right out from under me. Smush. Bottom hits the floor in mid-sentence, I am uninjured and mostly just surprised.<br />
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And no, while this blog has had some downtime, I haven't turned into a whale, I don't think that that is why the chair broke. These chairs have lived in several apartments and have had several owners. They are much used and loved, and much repaired. It really wasn't much of a surprise that this one broke. (The others may be soon to follow, we expect.)<br />
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It just had to happen right then.<br />
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<i><b>More Than Just a Chair </b></i><br />
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This chair breaking out of the blue is like the changes that have happened in my life of late. A sharp shock, but there's more to it than that. This chair breaking means there's not enough at the table now - change is coming. The chair is beyond repair, so whatever comes next is going to be very different from the other furniture. Or maybe it's time for something entirely new (to us)?<br />
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The things we base our daily lives on, and base our daily lives around, become staples. Become a foundation upon which we build other things. We can take them for granted. Chairs are one of those things, we don't expect them to break. So this broken chair, these life changes, can be a surprising and uncomfortable shock as best, injuring at worst.<br />
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But someone lends a hand, and helps pull you to your feet. You learn to laugh at yourself in the face of your damaged pride. We keep growing. We learn to have gratitude for what was, for what has supported us, and we move onward. (This is one profound chair, but my parallels leave something to be desired.)<br />
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Changes on this site aren't complete yet, but coming - some things you cannot foresee to plan around... <br />
jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-35981184416663176892012-11-11T18:50:00.002-05:002012-11-11T18:54:01.805-05:00A Brief PauseGood day! Main blog content will be down temporarily for a few updates and changes! Check back soon!<br />
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Will be back up in a couple of days.
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We leave you with some goodies from the old days to hold you over.jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-58168731200533255702012-11-06T14:48:00.002-05:002013-01-08T20:59:18.363-05:00In My Father's Shoes, or Pedals Rather<div style="text-align: right;">
File Under: <i>Beyond Biking</i></div>
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On Saturday I biked 60 miles from where I live in Somerville, MA to my hometown - a rural town in central Massachusetts. I had never undertaken such a solo mission before and I'll be writing more about that adventure in it's own post.<br />
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But I biked all these miles in my father's pedals. My first bike ride to my childhood home, carried on a piece of memory, carries significance for me.<br />
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As if I have come into my cycling inheritance.<br />
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<b><i>History Lessons</i></b><br />
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My first bike, the very first one, the one with the training wheels, came in the mail, in a box, in a million pieces. My father built it up. We sat on the porch while he put it together. It was white, with streamers, sparkles, and had a top tube protector with unicorns. It was the most ridiculous bicycle ever.<br />
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My dad spent a lot of time with me and that bike. Around the age of seven I still had training wheels, and as it came time to take them off - I fell again and again. I had grown dependent upon them. But Dad didn't give up. And it wasn't until I had fallen down more times than I could count and cried and flailed and said that I was done with bikes forever that he did not push me any further.<br />
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For the next three years my friends and cousins learned to ride without training wheels. I refused to try. I would run along with the bikes, which made me a fast runner but I was ashamed of myself and my failure. Over these years I also took up horseback riding.<br />
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<b><i>Then It Happened</i></b><br />
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Fast forward to the age of 10, and one day in late fall I thought to myself, I haven't tried a bike in awhile, I wonder what would happen if I just got on? I can ride horses, maybe I can ride a bike now... Fully prepared to fall and bite the dust, donning my horseback riding helmet - I got on a bike. And I rode.<br />
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Yes, I was wobbly, but I didn't fall. And I kept going. Soon I was biking everywhere. I biked constantly and well on into my teen years, up until driving became a priority, and on even after that. I didn't bike in college, although I often considered it. It wasn't until I moved off-campus in my final year that the cycling bug bit again and I've been urban cycling ever since.<br />
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<i><b>Connect the Dots</b></i><br />
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My father passed away when I was twelve, so there were a lot of things about him that I didn't get to learn. Anecdotes and found objects have helped me to fill in the pieces of the man I only sort of got to know. And it was only about two years ago that I learned how my dad was a cyclist.<br />
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We always had sheds and out buildings filled with bicycles growing up, so I should have guessed - but I thought that that was normal. Everything from vintage step through frame bikes to vintage road bikes to racing bikes (but no mountain bikes) dwelled in our sheds.<br />
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When you got too tall for one bike, there was no necessary trip to a shop - there were probably already several to choose from on the premises Tire flat? Wheel out of true? Derailleur not working? No problem, those where easy for him to fix. Other people gave him bikes they didn't want anymore and he fixed them.<br />
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All this bicycle-ness was completely normal for me growing up. My uncle, an auto body pro, would paint my cousins - his daughters' - bikes in the most fantastic ways - anything we wanted. Sparkles. Unicorns. Pastel. Fluorescent. Bikes were an intrinsic part of life. My sister, who knew how to ride, but opted not to was always a mystery to me.<br />
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<b><i>The dreams of little girls</i></b><br />
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Bicycles were the horses for my imagination. We couldn't have horses when I was young, but I took lessons and rode in shows. And because I couldn't have my own horse, and my similarly 'afflicted' cousins (who lived down the street) couldn't either, the bicycles became our horses.<br />
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We would ride for hours and hours, our imaginations would fill in the storylines.<br />
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After my father passed away I kept biking. I did eventually become a horse owner as a teenager and even rode competitively in college. When I was in college my family gave away all the bikes left from my Dad's time. I was the only biker, and yet not.<br />
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<b><i>Fast Forward to November 2010</i></b><br />
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The year before last while the entire family embarked on emptying out the attic of the old farmhouse, I found a wheel set, an old wheel set - one my father had built. Amongst the hodgepodge, from an unlabeled box with a hole in it peeked bicycle things. Still coming into my own as a cyclist I didn't recognize all the tools or components in that box but I knew it for what it was: bike guts.<br />
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Later, as I dug through the box I got a snapshot of another chapter of my father's life. A time dedicated to cycling and building bikes. Before he met my mom.<br />
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I was shocked and elated.<br />
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<b><i>Heritage</i></b><br />
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I learned through research and asking at shops more about the components left in that box. And my Dad did not skimp on those parts, all were of top-of-the-line European and Japanese manufacture from the late '70s. Amongst them were a hex wrench set, another wrench set, a chain breaker, all of which I still use, and a set of pedals with clips (aka toe baskets).<br />
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At the time I only had one bike, and Charlie's pedals were fine, so the pedals sat in my pile of spare parts.<br />
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<b><i>Cycling Inheritance</i></b><br />
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Over this past summer, as I've entered the cycling industry I now have three bikes. One of them is a yellow Bianchi Veloce named Bumblebee (or on occasion she goes by Princess Buttercup, she's rather girly). She came into my life used, but equipped with clipless pedals for which I did not have the shoes (nor at that point wished to acquire said type of shoe).<br />
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So I thought to put on these pedals of my father's, to finally put them to use. They are vintage Mikashima keirin approved pedals with clips. They go nicely on the Bianchi with Campagnolo group-set situation that Bumblebee has.<br />
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But more so than that they are a piece of something greater. They represent a piece of something shared between those who cannot be together.<br />
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So, I may never have a chance to go on a bike ride like this with my Dad, but I somehow inherited his love of cycling. (Not just that but also his penchant for pretty components and very long rides (my aunt recently told a story of his bike ride to Cape Cod, but that's for another time).)<br />
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Somehow, despite life changes, distance, and so many other variables - I have become a cyclist of my own accord, just like my Dad. As I embraced my solo trek from my present to my past, I rode on my father's pedals.<br />
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I guess there's more in common than I have ever known.<br />
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Connections last across generations and distances and those we love are never far away because they're a part of us. As my dear friend has lost her father recently, I offer this up as a small anecdote that small things go a long way; and it's what we do with what we carry in our hearts after the fact that determines the future.jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-42907129150387598562012-10-31T12:00:00.001-04:002013-01-08T20:57:40.371-05:00The Scariest Thing You'll Ever Face: Yourself<div style="text-align: right;">
File Under: <i>Breaking the Limits</i></div>
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I'm giving up on giving up. I've decided. I've had it with fear, doubt, and disillusionment. These things were cool when I was watched <i>Reality Bites</i>, long before I went to college and started living on my own, long before life got hard. (Life was never exactly easy, but this is before it got difficult as a direct effect of my own actions, or actions in this lifetime (if you're into that sort of thing).) Back then identifying with the disillusionment was enough, there really didn't need to be anything on the other end of those emotions. I was the disillusionment.<br />
<br />
I've got a counter-force brace on my right arm, supporting my busted elbow (micro-tears in the tendon) from my Tough Mudder. I've got bone bruises on my patellas (aka knee caps), abrasions, strained tendons in my knees, ankles and feet that keep swelling up at the most inopportune moments. I've got bruises everywhere. (And a nasty burn on my arm from baking a cake.) And a smile on my face.<br />
<br />
Why would this make me smile? I'm not a masochist. I'm also already signed up for a Rebel Race in 2 weeks and another Tough Mudder in May. No, I don't think I'm insane either.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Battered by Sandy</i></b><br />
<br />
I imagine those much more intensely effected by this hurricane than I may feel something like this:<br />
<br />
<i>Everything hurts in here, it hurts in my heart. Everything is gone. And I'm so angry at this situation, and it keeps coming out at everyone else. Am I angry at myself? Or the world? This whole situation sucks.</i><br />
<br />
Just don't give up, as soon as we give up the growing stops. The healing stops.<br />
<br />
There's a story of a man, Devadatta, in the Lotus Sutra and elsewhere. So the story goes, this man - a relative of Siddhartha, an exemplary practitioner, gave way to jealousy, scheming and greed. Convinced the king to kill his father and usurp the throne. Tried to kill the Buddha and take over the community. But all of this grew out of his giving up his own internal struggle, really.<br />
<br />
It hurts so much, but keep going. I keep throwing myself headlong into these challenges because I want to try, I want to challenge myself in a big way not to give up. Look my doubts square in the face, and win.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Outside In</i></b><br />
<br />
One reason I did the Tough Mudder was because I was sick of looking at my life from the outside in, judging my success in any endeavor by someone else, or what I thought someone else thought of me. Even by this age and amount of living I know better, yet the propensity arises from time to time, and lately more than I'd like.<br />
<br />
I here endeavor to be completely honest with myself, even if I don't like what I see. Even if I'm stuck doing things that I don't want to do. It's the only way forward. The Mudder was mine, and mine alone. I certainly wasn't alone at all in the doing of it, before or after - but the confrontation of the self was mine.<br />
<br />
That Devadatta fellow I mentioned before - he was all about external appearances, all about being in charge of everything for his own glory. There was none of the introspection, the struggle to find that sometime-ephemeral sense of having a unique mission in life that requires so much work. I don't want to be that person.<br />
<br />
Doubt, self-deprecation, self-begrudging come from the same place as arrogance. They come from a place where our outsides determine the innermost truth of our heart. It is place that has no respect for the inherent worth of each individual, because from this perspective the individual only has worth in regards to the outside.<br />
<br />
There is no inner growth here.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Dangerous Buzz Words</i></b><br />
<br />
<i>"The faith that can change destiny cannot be carried out easily. Must not doubt. The fundamental cause lies in my own determination and faith.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>"I have a mission. Without a mission, a Bodhisattva of the Earth has no reason to exist. Human beings must never forget their mission. Since this is the case, my only choice is to courageously carry out powerful, unyielding, indomitable faith."</i> Oct 10, 195? Daisaku Ikeda, <i>A Youthful Diary</i><br />
<br />
Faith is a dangerous word, full of all sorts of connotations. But here I use it to mean faith in ourselves; in our own unique capacity; faith in oneself to know that, e.g. I can grow more, be more - being just who I am. (In case you were wondering: Bodhisattvas of the Earth are those who answered the Buddha's call to stick around after his death to continue to lead others to enlightenment on into the future, especially when the eras become rife with strife.)<br />
<br />
In training for an event you have a goal - e.g., I will run 12 miles of mud and obstacles and finish successfully. I will ride my bicycle 100 miles in one day. In life - <i>scary big-picture moment here</i> - we have a mission. No one tells you what it is; it's yours alone - yet so intricately connected to everything. Sort of a determining your own destiny thing. But it's also a lot more exhausting than riding hundreds of miles or running tens of miles to discover it. And also, just as exhilarating - probably more so.<br />
<br />
Through challenge we grow. We get a chance to seek the profound inside our lives during this existence We get a chance to write our own definitions, not be told who and what we are from the outside. We get to each discover what our mission is, and for each it is different.<br />
<br />
But it means we have to make a choice to do this, a choice for self-determination.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Mudder as Life</i></b><br />
<br />
I cannot look to another to know my purpose. The mud covered people running next to me, helping to catapult and pull me up and over obstacles, just as I aid them - they cannot tell me either, although we run and struggle together. I would not assign an arbitrary value to any one of them based on their muddiness because I am just as muddy. But underneath that mud, the person inside is shining. That person is fighting with everything they've got, surmounting obstacles with the help of others and helping others. That person is fighting their own internal battles just as much, even if I cannot see from here.<br />
<br />
Each one of us is running this thing for some reason, some internal drive. Some mission we've made for ourselves. This run isn't a competition, it's a challenge. You've got to have some deep personal reason to run it, or you won't finish.<br />
<br />
Part of my goal was to do to every obstacle, not to skip any. In a Mudder you can skip an obstacle if you need to - although most don't, but in life the only way out is through.<br />
<br />
I'm running through my proverbial mud.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Mission</i></b><br />
<br />
Dream bigger than what you think is possible, only then will your life begin to approach what you're truly capable of, is a paraphrase from the person I identify as my mentor in life. Well, right now my sense of mission is murky, and I've got dreams that should very well be impossible. But just because I don't have the answer now, and maybe am not yet capable of what I imagine, doesn't mean I can't ever, or won't ever.<br />
<br />
The future is farther than the horizon, what is possible is more than what we can see right now. When we give up on giving up, give up on defining ourselves by our current external limitations, the possibilities open wide, and the only limit is our own vision.<br />
<br />
You might have noticed by now, inside our innermost beings, there are no limitations.<br />
<br />
Herein is an existence that does not require the outside to exude joy. Never giving up means it doesn't matter how muddy my outsides get, I am not defeated, I am not destroyed - no matter how bad the getting goes.<br />
<br />
And that's where this smile comes from.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-10942307621314062272012-10-23T14:42:00.001-04:002013-01-08T20:56:15.838-05:00Mental Grit and the Dragon King's Daughter<div style="text-align: right;">
File Under: <i>Breaking the Limits </i></div>
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This is a long one.<br />
<br /></div>
It's been a little while since I've posted anything here. Life has seen a loss, a birth*, and a wedding. I've been writing for a larger project and also training. I pushed myself to be able to run 10 miles without stopping in a very short two-week period.<br />
<br />
"Why?,"<i> </i>do you ask? Because I made a promise to myself.<br />
<br />
Back in July I was supposed to participate in a <a href="http://www.toughmudder.com/">Tough Mudder</a> with my intrepid cousin, whom I call Watson. Circumstances came to pass that meant that I could not go to that one, she finished and became an inspiring example. However, I was able to participate in the TriState Tough Mudder this past weekend in New Jersey.<br />
<br />
That's why I drove myself to be able to run 10 miles.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgES9yVlkHU7jEM7g2WeDaIamjw1X2V_GoehmSsnCx-iwHI62shAvwZyhXXl12jue1GvUOf7Sx35BfgRrDNWTAHn8bMOHujSad1WD3UwAYX_ZNc6Wi2ITUHLyP28fvAbirlFXL732fgMw0c/s1600/photo888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgES9yVlkHU7jEM7g2WeDaIamjw1X2V_GoehmSsnCx-iwHI62shAvwZyhXXl12jue1GvUOf7Sx35BfgRrDNWTAHn8bMOHujSad1WD3UwAYX_ZNc6Wi2ITUHLyP28fvAbirlFXL732fgMw0c/s400/photo888.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me in the middle back with knee bent.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><i>Mental Grit</i></b><br />
<br />
If you look at Tough Mudder's marketing and their website it's very "tough guy" looking. Their logo is the silhouette of a man running through fire. The event is marketed as: <i>"Probably the toughest event on the planet." </i>In the Frequently Asked Questions they mention that about 25% of participants are women.<br />
<br />
So why do it? Is this some machismo thing?<br />
<br />
There's a lot more to this than meets the eye. The Mudder pledge includes a number of significant things that make it different that other events of this kind.<br />
<br />
To paraphrase <a href="http://toughmudder.com/about/">The Pledge</a>, at the start participants pledge that they understand this is a challenge, not a race; camaraderie comes before course time; not to whine; help fellow Mudders complete the course; and to overcome all fears.<br />
<br />
From the outset it's about working together rather than competing against each other. Many of the obstacles cannot be completed alone. This is something I came to understand very well as I ran this as an individual. I certainly had some wonderful friends who came as spectators and cheered me on. Every turn of the course that had me lay eyes on them again was like the sun coming out behind clouds. It would put extra power in my stride for the coming mile.<br />
<br />
This was grueling: Mud for 12 miles; hills of mud, pits of mud. Smoke and fire. Small crawl-through spaces, filled with mud and muddy water. Barbed wire. A freezing bath of ice water, cold enough that as you plunged in you're passing through a layer of ice. Jumping off a high platform into muddy water, sliding down a chute that begins at the vertical and you can't see the way out. Tunnels in the dark, in the mud. Bog up to your shoulders. Walls, climbs.... I think you get the point.<br />
<br />
And electricity. They introduced five new obstacles at our event and one of them really pushed me beyond what I thought I could handle. This involved crawling along in muddy water on your stomach (much like under the barbed wire), except it was not barbed wire above you, but live wires carrying 10,000 volts of electric current.<br />
<br />
Take a moment to pull out your science book from grade school, consult an electrician, or <a href="http://what-if.xkcd.com/16/">xkcd</a>. Wet, muddy you plus crawling through some wet, muddy goo means you're even more conductive and delicious for an electric current to use to ground itself than the infamous "Electroshock Therapy" that comes at the end of the course.<br />
<br />
To put it simply, I was shocked more times than I can count. And it hurt. It felt like a stab and a punch at the same time. A quick series of shocks followed by one powerful hit almost made me black out. But I kept moving.<br />
<br />
I challenged each obstacle head on. I did not skip anything. Even when my arms failed and I fell into the cold water below and had to swim I did not give up. People I have never met and may never see again helped me. They gave me leg ups over walls, pulled me up mountains of mud. Caught me when I fell. Pushed when I slipped. At each obstacle I stayed to help those who had helped me and those coming up behind. By the end my right arm gave out completely.<br />
<br />
You run, you slip. Sometimes you fall. You climb you jump, you're covered in mud. It tries to take your shoes. You help people up. You continue. By mile 9, I felt it well and true but I did not stop. Many people were suffering from severe muscle cramping, especially in the calves. I didn't, but I am very grateful for all those bananas they gave us.<br />
<br />
I finished.<br />
<br />
So much of this is not just physical strength and athletic ability. They call it <i>mental grit</i>, and I understand what that means now. I didn't think I had it in me to do anything like this. But my mind, even when fear wanted to consume me - was true. I never gave up on my promise to myself and I've come out of this with a renewed perspective and fresh focus.<br />
<br />
I feel more awake, not just to my daily external reality, but to my internal one.<br />
<br />
<b><i>The Dragon King's Daughter</i></b><br />
<br />
Running the Mudder wasn't for me so much proving that as a woman I can do the same course as all these burly men. It wasn't to prove something because I work in a male-dominated industry. It was about pushing my limits to see what lies beyond, to dare to dream outside my daily circumstances.<br />
<br />
This kind of challenge, this kind of dream does not necessitate a trial by fearsome and difficult physical trials. So often our daily lives hand us challenges so great that we do not believe we can surmount them. And sometimes we pretend that they're not there, or try to blame others for them. We fear them and try to avoid them. And this can go unchecked for years.<br />
<br />
But remember,<br />
<br />
<i>I do not whine, kids whine. </i><i>I overcome all fears.</i><br />
<br />
There's me and there's this obstacle, the internal dialogue goes. The only way out is through - trying to go around gets us nowhere. Me - just as I am - has to be enough.<br />
<br />
Or to quote Yoda: "Do, or do not. There is no try."<br />
<br />
In the Lotus Sutra the enlightenment of the Dragon King's daughter is just such a case of: <i>me - just as I am - has to be enough</i>. The story goes, this young girl, as just the half-dragon half-human that she is - is able to manifest enlightenment.<br />
<br />
This is a big deal.<br />
<br />
Up until this point historically, in no sutra was the possibility of <i>anyone</i> female <i>ever</i> attaining enlightenment even a remote pipe dream. The best you could do in this lifetime was be pristine, austere, and pray to be born a man in a future existence, then maybe after enough lifetimes you could achieve enlightenment as a man. It required a complete forfeiture of the self.<br />
<br />
Yet she manifests enlightenment, just as she is.<br />
<br />
This story is pointed to as the place that marks the doctrinal possibility for the enlightenment of women. Something previously completely denied. It also is pointed at to show that we do not change the core of who and what we are when we reveal the Buddha-capacity already inherently endowed within each life. We manifest our Buddhahood as we are. Even dragon-girl princesses from the bottom of the sea.<br />
<br />
Or to take it out of storyland...<br />
<br />
That means that my awkward, muddy self is a lot more than meets the eye. This means that whatever your outsides, your circumstances, your struggles, your gender, your anything - that the capacity to awaken to and manifest the best version of you, of your life, is untarnished. We are each completely endowed with this capacity, even if it exists in a latent state.<br />
<br />
By facing challenges head on - whether they come in the form of excessive credit card debt, strenuous relationships with your family, or a giant mud pit with fire and smoke - we reveal our internal worth. It is by advancing further today than yesterday.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Underlying Humanism</i></b><br />
<br />
And the teamwork comes into play too. We take on our own challenges and help others do the same. As trying as the Mudder is, it is a humanistic experience because through the shared struggle and helping one another advance and overcome these physical obstacles we validate and demonstrate the worth of each person, regardless of their level of fitness. I overheard many a pep talk amongst friends and team members on the course. These teams were not just supporting over physical barriers but also internals ones, they were cultivating the internal strength, the mental grit of their comrades.<br />
<br />
When we help others take on their challenges we can create this humanism in our daily lives.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Where does mental grit come from?</i></b><br />
<br />
Tough Mudder is a test of this mental grit. A series of obstacles that test your inner strength and resolve as much as that out on the outside. In a conversation with my partner in crime, the Bandit Man, I attested some of my own mental strength to previous disciplines in my life. As a young person I was a ballet dancer, ran in the track team, and rode as a competitive equestrian. I did martial arts in college. I've been playing taiko for years, with this past year's training being some of the most rigorous I have ever done. I am a cyclist who rides no matter what time of year it is, and here in New England the winter can be a monster.<br />
<br />
But more so than perhaps any of these things, and it was the Bandit Man that brought this up, perhaps it was my Buddhist practice. And Buddhist practice is the continual self reflection and improvement of the self, paired to the commitment to helping others do the same.<br />
<br />
There is a passage in the second chapter of the Lotus Sutra that reads, "In all of the ten directions/ the Buddha alone is without fear." And that has how I have been striving to live this year.<br />
<br />
Face my fears head on. Do the thing I am most afraid of, because it is probably what I need the most to grow.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Mud Again</i></b><br />
<br />
This coming May will mean another Tough Mudder, but this time as a team.<br />
<br />
_______<br />
*I'm a crazy "aunt" now! My dear cousin had her first baby girl! (Different cousin than mentioned earlier.)<br />
<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-44205572647790942232012-09-26T12:45:00.000-04:002013-03-22T10:44:19.159-04:00Trade Shows, Gender, and the Cycling Sausage Fest<div style="text-align: right;">
File Under: <i>Tales from the Cycle-verse</i>
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<i><br /></i>
Hi, I'm a girl and I can fix a flat on my bike. I can do it on my own, on the side of the road while thousands of other cyclists fly by on Hub on Wheels. Of course - I'm still immensely grateful for all the volunteers who stopped to ask if I needed anything. <br />
<br />
Hi, I'm a girl and I can build up <a href="http://www.fixedgeargallery.com/2012/oct/3/JessieCalkins/JessieCalkins.htm">this bike</a>. (Not talking welds here, but believe me that's on the to-do list.)<br />
<br />
Hi, I'm a girl who writes about, advocates for, fixes, recommends, photographs, advises, commutes via ... all-things-bikes.<br />
<br />
Hi, I'm a girl who is a keen observer of and sometime professional in the cycling industry and sometimes I want to vomit. Especially when I see things <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lovely_bicycle/8025848831/in/photostream">like this</a> and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151166962717929&set=a.156849812928.113232.60184767928&type=1&theater">this</a>.<br />
<br />
Yes, these beautiful women are doing their jobs, it's true. But if this industry is supposed to be egalitarian, forward thinking, and challenging the status quo - not just in health and infrastructure, but also beauty - <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151166962717929&set=a.156849812928.113232.60184767928&type=1&theater">why does the largest North American cycling tradeshow resound with this imagery?</a><br />
<br />
<i>Where did the real women cyclists go?</i> There were a few there but most were left back at the office.<br />
<br />
There are real women out there; we're out here, we ride bikes, we know what we're talking about and yet are pretty much absent from this trade show. <a href="http://prollyisnotprobably.com/2012/09/the-ritte-girls-at-cross-vegas/#6">There are some elite athlete beauties</a>, but somehow even that imagery is a question mark.<br />
<br />
Recently Elly Blue of <a href="http://takingthelane.com/">Taking the Lane</a> <a href="http://takingthelane.com/2012/09/17/is-this-thing-sexist-introducing-the-bike-test/">wrote a post about how to figure out if cycling imagery is sexist</a>, and what trends we are seeing. A conclusion from this article, that somehow in marketing imagery it is men that are riding, challenging, and adventuring whilst women somehow end up next to the bike, as a place to secure fashionable accessories - an auxiliary subject for the gaze.<br />
<br />
She notes:<br />
<br />
<i>"I want to point out that these images are not just made and chosen by men. Women are also active in many representations of bicycling that would fail this test, both as willing models and as photographers and producers. My point is not that we’re the helpless victims of sexist men, but that we’re all part of a culture where sexism is normalized, celebrated, and rewarded. I think there’s a widespread sense that this is the game we have to play if we want to succeed. In a way that’s true, but I’d argue that there are inherent limits for women in this game; we can only go so far. If we really want equality we need to change the rules." -<a href="http://takingthelane.com/2012/09/17/is-this-thing-sexist-introducing-the-bike-test/">Taking the Lane</a></i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And there are even comments on the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151166962717929&set=a.156849812928.113232.60184767928&type=1&theater">InterBike Facebook photo post</a> linked to above, from men and women viewing this:</span><br />
<br />
<i>
"Yep, this is part of the reason the industry and sport stagnates. Even Hooters is realizing how limiting this approach is." </i>[from a man actually...]<br />
<i><br />
"I want to know if any of those girls could fix a flat..."</i><br />
<br />
I know - just in this city - some amazing women in this industry, <a href="http://hubbicycle.com/">lady shop service shop owner and mechanic</a>, <a href="http://bikeyface.com/">web comic artist</a>, <a href="http://www.stephaniecrumley.com/">photographers</a>, pro racers, and so many others who live for bikes even if this may not be their profession. They are incredible. They are gorgeous, they do amazing things. And yet somehow they're left out.<br />
<br />
They're not worth marketing to?<br />
<br />
Trade shows take industry culture and condense it, stick it under a magnifying glass and shine dazzling lights all over it. Under this level of magnification you can't help but notice some things are out of balance, somebody's missing. Somehow at this show, real women cyclists are missing, or eclipsed.<br />
<br />
The thing is you can market for them, to them, and things can look different. The attitude at the European trade shows is a lot different, and they keep growing - whereas this North American show has actually gotten smaller over the years, with big industry names leaving and running their own shows...<br />
<br />
<i style="font-style: italic;">Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc</i><br />
<i style="font-style: italic;"><br /></i>
Or if you're rusty on your Latin, correlation does not imply causation. Just because the great North American trade show looks like this does not necessitate that this is the why of it getting smaller. But there are a lot of women out here, from an economic perspective that's a big market demographic which this sort of imagery often alienates. <br />
<br />
Perhaps you could even sell your brand better with informative, experienced bicycle geek girls who know what they're talking about rather than just having it memorized for the show?<br />
<br />
Even a pro marketer must find it exceedingly difficult to take a tradeshow, which should be a veritable goldmine and market it successfully when you take a great product and put it through this kind of lens. <br />
<br />
And as a consumer it's also hard when you're disgusted by a lot of it. <br />
<br />
And the disgust is not so much, "Oh, overly-sexualized-imagery-again...", it's more of a: "Is this the best we can do? We can make bikes that you can jump out of planes with, bikes that are lighter than my shoe, bikes fast enough to break land speed records, but we can't think of a tradeshow approach any more evolved than this?".<br />
<br />
<i style="font-style: italic;">Talking Humanism</i><br />
<br />
This great device, this bicycle, is a great vehicle for humanism. But when half the species is not being put on an equal level, it's not humanism at all.<br />
<br />
Just as Elle says, let's change the rules. Somehow I'm going to! Humanism in cycling, here we go!<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="font-style: italic;"><br /></i>
jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6875620591119772258.post-69990450649902533212012-09-12T17:46:00.001-04:002015-06-19T20:36:03.109-04:00Newbie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I had been in the same place for so long I forgot what it was to be a newbie. At this time last year we had hired a bunch of new waitstaff, and one young man in particular was very anxious to know how long it would be - <b>exactly</b> - until he wasn't a newbie anymore. I now wonder exactly the same thing.<br />
<br />
A friend of mine was saying that she's been at her "new" job for just over a year, and finally - just maybe a little bit now - she feels like they're trusting her to do her job. Finally everything she says and every judgement isn't questioned constantly. She isn't being given filler tasks and constantly being told she doesn't know all the things she's supposed to know. She is finally being impeded slightly less at doing her job by those who are trying to tell her how to do it.<br />
<br />
It sure is hard being the new kid.<br />
<br />
Especially when the turnover isn't particularly high (which is a good thing), and they haven't had to do this in quite awhile. Haven't had to break in a new person in so long that so they've forgotten how.<br />
<br />
Well, guess what?! I'm new. I'm going to make mistakes.<br />
<br />
And lots of them. And I might not understand something the first time.<br />
<br />
Not only is this a new job, it's a new industry. <i>A whole new world.</i><br />
<br />
But I won't be swayed. And you can tell me one thing, and then do something completely different. You can say, well you should be doing this or that; or know this or that. But I won't know until it comes up. Because there is no guide here, no standardization, no training - just jump in the deep end and swim. (Coincidentally, as a child I had to be rescued from many a swimming lesson for almost drowning because I jumped in the deep end.) Even though all the manuals are years old and out of date and I'm supposed to know them, even though I don't have all the answers - I will swim.<br />
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And this may come off as impassioned. And maybe I sound frustrated - because, face it - I am.<br />
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But this is a chance to expand my capacity and I will not back down. Sure, maybe I haven't proven myself indispensable here yet, but I will. I will work as hard as it takes, as long as it takes, to produce some kind of concrete, proactive, and innovative value.<br />
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I work on my off hours. I work in my sleep. <br />
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I'm not backing down. Not from this momentary obstacle, not from anything.<br />
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Because this doesn't define me, it can't. My potential is bigger than this. <br />
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And one thing I don't have much of, and boy do I know it - is patience.<br />
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But I'll grow some.<br />
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Hi, I'm the newbie. I make mistakes, lots of them. Every day. <br />
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But I'm learning.<br />
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We have this quote in the office on one of the filing cabinets attributed to Thomas Edison and it reads, "If you want to increase your success, you must double your rate of failure." Well, if that's the case then I'm golden. I'm here to learn.<br />
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When I was a kid we took the training wheels off my bike when I was 7, pretty late, eh? I couldn't ride without them so I gave up for 3 years. Then one day, when I was 10 - after having started riding horses for several years at that point - I got on a bike and could ride. Just. Like. That.<br />
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Maybe this is the story of my life?<br />
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Ok, I'm off to make some more mistakes! No I'm not begrudging myself here - I'm learning....<br />
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<br />jessiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03720494488734101938noreply@blogger.com0