Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

For nearly a year now, I've been finding myself doing anything and everything besides what I need to be doing, namely reading and evaluating student work. Whenever I tell myself to plop my behind down in front of the computer and start in on the submitted exercises/assignments, a feeling akin to nausea rumbles in the pit of my stomach. Its slimy tendrils spread through my body, turning my limbs to jelly. I'll make it as far as the office door and can see my computer, but my feet refuse to take another step. Only when I turn and walk away, maybe washing the dishes or putting in a load of laundry or going outside to merely sit on the back deck, does the nausea abate. Avoiding what needs to be done has only created a huge pile of work that now seems insurmountable. A favorite pic from the summer. Maybe a hint?   It's time to face the problem. Instead of dancing around the issue, hoping the desire returns to continue doing what I've been doing for many years, a plan ...

The other day, a dear friend of mine witnessed a woman working at the thrift store being especially nasty towards a customer. While I don't know all the details, I know enough to say bravo to my friend for stepping forward and letting the thrift store woman know her behavior was out of line. My friend did know the customer, an international student who doesn't speak English as her first language and who has a tough time understanding what is being said to her at times. Unfortunately, this young woman was subjected to the ugly that some individuals live by. Today, I finally said enough to the negative comments of one individual towards another, both cyclists who rode the BTUSFMS during the summer. I consider both friends, and because I tend to shrink from confrontation, for four months, I kept my thoughts to myself. At this point, I decided my silence about the issue was actually an endorsement of the negative comments. I don't agree with this person's position and fin...

Less than three miles into a planned long ride on the I & M path, Hubby's phone rang. Angel Baby was having a problem with his left eye, and he had a headache. Could we please come get him? Honestly, part of me wanted to tell him to suck it up and get back to his classroom. Didn't he realize we'd just spent over an hour driving to get to the path? Didn't he realize I had mileage I needed to rack up? I didn't say any of this, though, because I could tell by his voice that he wasn't his usual perky, happy self. Instead, I told him his sister would be there as soon as possible to pick him up, and we would be on our way home within the next fifteen minutes. So we turned our bikes around, and rather than a day of ambling along the canal lined with purple-leafed vines and trees of vibrant yellow foliage, we hurried back to the truck, quickly removed the front tires from both bikes to load them in the back, then set off for the return drive. Once home, I made Angel...

My first hub and spokes light. I'm happy with it, but I do have ideas for improving upon it. I really enjoyed sitting on the stool in the garage, at the workbench Hubby made just for me and my projects, and putting this together. Hub and Spokes Side Table Lamp My workbench--all mine. With materials! Thanks bike shop dude for giving me the trash wheels.

What does one do when one buys a new mountain bike? Why, one signs up for a metric century mountain bike race of course. At least that's what I did. Which made one of my colleagues laugh so hard he about fell off his chair. Not kidding. He couldn't get over the fact that I had just bought the bike, had only rode it one time, then decided I was going to do the Gravel Grovel in Indiana Thanksgiving weekend. Clearly he thinks I'm nuts. Me, Brian, and Tanya getting ready to climb, climb, climb! My thinking is I love being in the saddle for hours. I also love having a challenge, something I've not done before. Riding across the US was definitely a challenge that allowed me to be in the saddle for hours each day. Climbing the Blue Ridge Parkway, Hayter's Gap, all of the hills of Missouri, Monarch Pass, Carson Pass, and lots of other hills in between, I found I can climb just fine. The ride strengthened my body and my mind, and now I'm ready for a different chall...

The pawn shop bike was a great buy. I made a clock out of the back wheel, a picture holder out of the front wheel, and key rings out of the chain. Not bad for a $25 investment. Since finishing the key rings, what remained of the frame and the rest of the components hung in the garage. Until this week. Now I'm onto another project. Rather, I should say projects. In the process, I've begun learning about cranksets, cogs, wheelsets, and tire sizes. I've begun learning how to tighten spokes as well as remove them. I've found myself sitting in the garage for hours at a time, fiddling with one bike item or another. I've been to the bike shops, asking the bike shop dudes all kinds of questions. Ideas, plans, and dreams spring forth in the garage as I get my hands dirty. My first project which will take some time to complete is to build a fixie. I initially thought I would use the frame from the pawn shop bike, but after examining the old wheels as well as the wheels from...

The Big Mac in a blender was an epic failure. The special sauce didn't provide nearly the amount of liquidfication I had hoped for, so the burger patties along with the bun, pickles, lettuce, onions, and cheese turned into what can best be described as a lump of poo. You'd think with this thought in mind as I'm scooping the glob out of the blender I wouldn't eat it, but no, I ate every last bit of it. Not enjoying any part of it. Just going through the motions because dang it anyway, I went through the trouble of blending it and I really wanted something besides cream of chicken soup, so I was going to eat it. After seeing what happened to the Big Mac, I decided against blending the fries. Those I left alone. Those I did enjoy eating. Thankfully the tooth/jaw/ear pain has disappeared. The liquid diet must have allowed the affected area to settle down, return to some semblance of normal, so last night I very carefully ate shrimp fried rice and a veggie egg roll. No pai...

What I thought was an abscessed tooth during the ride this summer wasn't really an abscessed tooth, it appears. At least that's what I'm thinking given the pain came back full force and then some last week. By Thursday I was in enough pain that I called my dentist who graciously worked me in that afternoon. Two xrays later, both of which showed absolutely nothing, the diagnosis was I have begun grinding my teeth in my sleep, and in the process of said grinding, I have bruised my gum. Seriously? A bruised gum becomes so painful that my teeth throb, my jaw feels like it's cracking apart, and my cheek swells up? My dentist suggested a treatment of ibuprofen to reduce the inflammation, and if needed, I'll have to wear a mouth guard while sleeping. I went home and took some ibuprofen, hoping this would do the trick. It didn't. Friday afternoon, the pain was so intense I was reduced to a wimpering puddle on the couch. The dentist wasn't in on Fridays,...

Spent a wonderful day on the I&M Canal path. Hubby and I started out from LaSalle and rode to Ottawa where we had lunch at an ice cream shop. Because my tooth/gum issue has reared its ugly head again, I stuck with a vanilla milkshake. Hubby had a decked out hotdog and onion rings. We then headed back to LaSalle. We hadn't gone more than a quarter mile when we saw a cheese/deli shop. The promise of fudge spurred us to turn off and check out the place. Unfortunately the fudge was gone, but Hubby was able to get some farmer's cheese, and I found a coffee I wanted to try. We started out again, making our way back to Utica where we found a candy/fudge shop. We left with a quarter pound each of peanut butter chocolate fudge, Belgian chocolate fudge, cheesecake fudge, and toffee chocolate fudge. Hubby felt drawn to try out the chocolate covered bacon but couldn't bring himself to actually buy a strip and follow through. From there we cycled back to LaSalle, passing the locks n...

Another obsession is brewing. Like I don't have enough obsessions already: cycling for hours on end, eyeing the calories burned number on the Garmin, keeping the speed over 17 mph . . .. Now I'm all ga-ga over heart rate. I had an idea that heart rate is directly connected to calories burned, and calories burned are directly connected to pounds lost, and pounds lost are directly connected to my happiness. So I began reading anything and everything about heart rate, how to use it to keep the pounds off. During my reading, I came across aerobic vs. anaerobic and became all confused. I get the idea of aerobic. Aerobic is the fat burning stage. This is pretty much what my entire summer ride consisted of. Long, slow distances (LSD), hence losing 12 pounds in two months. The anaerobic, though, throws me because if I'm understanding it correctly, this is a level you don't want to reach often as it burns carbohydrates rather than fat. But the anaerobic level is necessary to bui...

During my 100 mile ride today, the coolest thing happened. I was pedaling along, thinking about how I need to get to work on my manuscript and get it finished up once and for all. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow on the road. Initially the shape of it brought to mind the orange flags that cyclists used to use years ago. I turned to look, thinking I would see a cyclist passing me. Instead of a cyclist, I saw a large bird flying alongside, right at shoulder level. For nearly 20 yards or so, the bird glided, its wings spread so I could see the white and black pattern on the underside of its feathers, and the black stripes on its body. It then looked at me, flew ahead and across my path, and up to sit on a utility pole. Initially I thought the bird was a hawk, but after returning home and looking up the different types of birds of prey, I found what I think the bird truly was: an American kestrel. As I pedaled on, I marveled over the bird flying alongside. I see it as a very ...

Great Blue Heron This morning dawned much cooler than what we've been experiencing the last two weeks. With all the windows open, the bedroom was very chilly, and I had to pull the summer quilt tightly around me to find some warmth. Part of me wanted to get up and ride, but being snuggled under the quilt, still sleepy after a night of hearing several parades of college students walking by between midnight and 3 am, loud and obnoxious, I drifted in and out of snoozing for over an hour. The thought of french toast spurred me to get up and start the day. After breakfast and a quick run to a bike sale in the alley behind some guy's house (still no mountain bike), I finally pulled on the shorts and jersey to set off. Hubby had agreed to meet me up at the lake and ride around it with me, so I started off only to find myself heading straight into a stiff wind. With the cooler temps came the wind, and I felt like I was right back in March when I was prepping for BTUSFMS. Every da...

After last Thursday's ride, a 55 miler that going into I was so tired and didn't really feel like doing but did because I didn't want to sit around the house all afternoon, I took Friday and Sunday off. Saturday's ride was just a slow, short ride on the trail, with some students who had joined the new cycling club at school, so I didn't put much effort in and didn't feel much effect from it. Because of the long weekend, I slept in each morning, went to bed early, and lazed around, reading or watching TV. By this morning, I could feel my body bouncing back, ready to get out and do that 55 miler again. I only did 50, an out and back, and I made my goal of 17 mph for the first 40 miles. The final 10 miles were slow and easy. All of it felt great again, rather than as if I was slogging through pedal stroke after pedal stroke. I don't like to admit when I'm tired and need a break, but I've realized I'm only going to create more problems if I don...

Before I set out for my cross-country cycling adventure, my dad gave me a cardboard box. We were sitting in the living room of the little cabin he had built, where when we'd go visit, we'd walk in and see Mom sitting on the loveseat, surrounded by her magazines, books, paper, and pens. I opened the box to find several rubberbanded stacks of letters written by my mom to her parents, my grandparents. On top of the first stack was a sticky note, and in Dad's precise engineering handwriting I saw '79, '80, and so on, all the way to '86. He had painstakingly gone through all of the letters, putting them into order by year. Several more rubberbanded stacks of letters were labeled the same way underneath the first stack. As I stared at the letter on top, at Mom's clear and elegant handwriting, I wondered how many tears Dad shed while reading through the hundreds of letters. I closed the lid on the box. I would wait until we got home to begin reading them. The nex...