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April 28, 2006
Feminine principles
City riding is a continual lesson in feminine principles, in particular the art of being vulnerable. A confrontational, macho aesthetic spells calamity. You must learn to yield, to dodge, to seek harmony. You are obliged to mind the web of interrelations, that complicated mesh of interests, conflicts, intentions.
Chip Brown, A Bike and a Prayer, 1988
April 27, 2006
How do you get back that lovin' feeling?
I've been very productive of late, and reaping the benefits of that. Which means I haven't been writing here much.
I admit, I'm having a bit of an identity crisis about the blog. When I started it, I was training for a marathon, I was all on fire about competitive walking—let's face it, I was a bit of a tiger.
Then after the Gorge Marathon last June, I started losing interest. Actually, it was the Sauvie Island half-marathon. I was doing great, I was doing great, and then I saw a runner down. I never learned really what happened to him. And after that, I just couldn't get enthusiastic about competitive walking any more.
I've done events since, but I've had none of the butterflies in your stomach, must think obsessively about strategy. Instead, I've transfered this obsession on to the guide.
It's like religion. I wish I had it again, but I don't. I loved feeling like there was an order to life, I was happier believing that something bigger and better than myself cared about me. But when it's gone, how do you get that back?
Let me be clear here: I don't want to be a believer again. But boy, I wish I were a competitive athlete again.Competitive walking was great, but I don't know how to get back that loving feeling.
I hesitate to call this a slump, as it's been going on for nine months.
How do you regain your passion for your sport?
...
So I guess this blog is now a personal blog (though it always was) about movement, about commuting, about exercise.
Because even though I've regain all the weight I had lost and lost the muscle tone, I still love bicycling and walking, I'm still obsessed with movement, with the act of going from here to there.
...
I've ridden the bicycle to work so far three days this week. Tuesday, I scooted because I didn't have enough time between work and pilates. As it was, I was so late leaving work that pilates got lost in the shuffle.
I like the way the schedule works when you leave enough time to walk or cycle or bus from here to there. It's very humane. You have this built-in bumper time. It doesn't allow you to overschedule, which I think is a plus.
Anyways, today I came in on the three-speed. I love having the basket up front, and I love the silly bell. I enjoy recognizing the kids, and the pedestrians, the cats and the newly blooming flowers.
I changed out my route today, so I had some hillyness coming in. It was a nice change. And as I was pedaling across Holladay St, I could tell there was a cyclist behind me, so I motioned for him or her to pass me. He wouldn't, but he asked about my bike, and I got to gush about how much I love it.
In fact, he has several from that same bike company, and we talked about how solid, and how much fun they are. At this point we were both flying down the ramp to the Esplanade, and we bid adieu. Nice.
So I got into work feeling like I had accomplished something, feeling happy and competent and ready for anything.
...
Riding back home hasn't seemed so bad. It's definitely easier with the 24-speed, though that's a ridiculous amount of gearing for what I'm dealing with. I've managed to ride the whole way home, and not collapse into a heap when I get there. Progress!
April 25, 2006
the teddy bear parade
I began this, long ago, on Sunday, and I was achey all over. My legs, my arms, my back—all sorts of underused muscles are all going, what the hey?
Yesterday, we had an adventure. We rode to The Dalles and back on the scoots.
It started, as these things do, insanely early. Get up, get gas, get bears. With a giant grey koala and a somewhat smaller goldish bear, we meet up with a friend and go over the river and through the woods to the ringleader's house. After krispykre@ms and much discussion of motorcycles running and not running, we hit the road.
The top deck of the Marquam bridge, a freeway bridge, is scary on a scooter. The winds are heavy, the traffic nuts, everything seeming to conspire against us.
I had been hoping for surface streets, which don't go all the way to The Dalles, but would cut the freeway portions into smaller chunks. Mais non. It was freeway all the way.
Things got exciting when we appeared to have dropped a rider, though by the time we got over to the shoulder, he came riding up. Then there was the gorge wind, always a bit much, and passing at over 80mph. I knew my scooter could do it, but it seemed a bit foolhardy to see how much of it I could do.
So I was already uncomfortable and cold, in spite of many layers. I need a better neck gaiter, I need better gloves and arm warmers, I need some sort of legwarmers. And they need to be not just wool but also something wind resistant.
Anyways. In the best of times, going to The Dalles in the car takes about an hour and a half. On the scooter/motorcycle entourage, it was two hours of some of the most unpleasant scootering you can imagine.
But it was all redeemed when we got to The Dalles.
We had seen tons, metric tons, of motorcycles on the highway. Meetups of a dozen, dozen and a half bikers in Troutdale, collections of Harleys, collections of Japanese bikes.
We pull off the highway into West The Dalles, which is this frontage road of big box stores and fast food, and the street is lined with motorcycles, and with people ready to watch the parade. Dude!
As far as the eye can see, motorcycles. Trikes. No scooters. Not a one.
Soon enough, everyone gets ready to ride in the parade. A man gives me a pink teddy bear, which I stuff between my sideview and my steering column—the gold bear is on the other side. My helmet safe under the seat, we start to ride the parade route at a rousing 9 mph.
Because this is the Cherry Festival, with Cherries Gone Wild!as the theme, we're not the only game in town. There's some old cars and well, I know there has to be other stuff going on as well.
But for the time being, we are it! We loop around downtown The Dalles. Everyone appears to be out on the sidewalk, waving and cheering. The sun is out, and it's gorgeous. It's pretty darn cool. I wave like a parade princess, trying to look tall and majestic on my goofy blue scooter.
And quickly enough, it's over. We're giving our teddy bears to cub scouts with bags that are as tall as they are, which is to say, not that tall. And everyone is wandering around looking at other bikes, talking about bikes, bikes, bikes, bikes.
...
After lunch and some hang out time, we head back towards Portland. We take the historic highway back as far as Mosier, where it ends. Then the freeway to Hood River. Then we drive through HR.
On the way out of HR, I decide to check out the place that Sweetie and I stayed the first time we made an out of town trip: the Meredith Motel in West Hood River. We ride up the frontage road, where it appears that the majority of businesses have gone out of business.
And then, at the end of the road, a somewhat forlorn Meredith, looking dusty. We ride up, and there's writing on the walls, literally. Beds, frames, tables, lamps, air conditioners, fridges had all been for sale. One unit has its air conditioner removed, with its hole left open and exposed. Devoid of furniture, the motel isn't charming; it's sad. And there isn't even a note. There is no evidence if the motel closed on Friday, or last year.
(And the web site is stuck in time, as if they were still open)
Just east of Multnomah Falls, the historic highway starts up again. We ride it into Troutdale, and surface streets back home.
...
This is how I know I'm a wuss. I was so tired when we got home at 4 that I could have gone to bed for the night. And the next day, the both of us are walking around like old people. My thighs, my butt, my back, my arms—all seriously sore. Our faces and heads and hands, sunburned. What fun!
Stress can be good
No pressure, no diamonds. —Thomas Carlyle
April 21, 2006
Damn, this is cool
I'm a sucker for this sort of thing. This is happening at St. John the Divine, one of my favorite places in my favorite neighborhoods in NYC.
Cathedral of St. John the Divine - Blessing of the Bicycles
Hundreds of cyclists aim to ensure safe pedalling by attending the somewhat eccentric Blessing of the Bicycles ceremony, held at the Cathedral of St John the Divine in Manhattan each spring.Cathedral Dean, The Very Reverend Dr James Kowalski, offers the blessing to kick off a safe cycling season, sprinkling holy water over each bike in the process. This is followed by a moment of silence to remember those who have died in cycling accidents during the past year. Bike messengers, racers, commuters, recreational bikers and, of course, children, are all invited to this colorful service.
The event has been running since 1999 and adds to the cathedral's colourful collection of annual events and services, which include summer and winter solstice concerts as well as Halloween, Christmas, New Year and Easter happenings.
text from travelguides.lastminute.com/sisp/index.htm?fx=event&event_id=33901
photo from nycbicycleshow.com/blessing/
more info at http://nycbicycleshow.com/blessing/about.html
I read about this via Heath Row's Media Diet
April 20, 2006
Mission possible
I'm at my best when I have a mission.
This morning, I was reading my mail, and one of the few folks I know in the bike community here asked about parking at the convention center. I have a couple of routes, one of which goes right by the convention center, so I email her back and we chat. I check out the web site, and of course, there is nada about bicycles, but they do have a parking structure.
Click! So I jot her a note saying I'll check it out.
It's chilly this morning, but clear, and a perfectly nice morning for a ride, so I go down to take notes on the CC. I check out the parking meters in the neighborhood: 75 cents an hour, til 10pm. I ride up and down the sidewalks like a dork around the CC: it's 8:00am and the bike racks are all ready almost full.
Today's event was not something I'd think of as terribly bike-ish; but Wordstock this weekend is all about quirky Portland bike-ishness. Which means that those bike racks will be full early.
So I ride into the parking garage, and I see the attendent in one of the booths, so I stop to chat with her, more as a courtesy, cuz I fully intend to ride around the structure. She points out on of the sets of hanging bike parking, and says she's unsure if there's any more. On my first pass around, I spot some more racks in a darkish corner, and then nothing. Interestingly, there are very few cars, and very little traffic. It's just me on the bike, pedestrians carrying laptops and briefcases into the CC.
I go down the very gradual ramp to the lower level, and chat with the attendent down there. She's amused by my mission—I wonder how many bikes they see in the parking garage. I locate a couple of the U racks—there's not a lot down here. An official person looks at me suspiciously. I must be one of those freaky uppity cycling kids, yeah.
The paving is so perfect and it's so quiet here, I just want to ride and ride and ride. It smells like outside, and the breeze blows through.
I finally, somehow, got myself back outside. The ride into downtown was beautiful, and it felt good to have a pocket full of notes.
April 19, 2006
being in the zone
It's looking beautiful (and frigid) outside. I will bicycle! I will!
While my day yesterday started off cranky, especially as I was hacking some scripting that had worked before, but suddenly was no longer... well, everything turned around in the end. I got my script to work and I'm back to coding, and I had that elation that made me just want to stay at the computer and keep going. If I was single, if I hadn't had pilates last night, if, if, if.
But I still got on the bus feeling like life was very good.
And then Sweetie made me cornbread!
And I was able to scoot to pilates. And the effort of working out wiped my mind clean.
...
We're thinking about scooting to The Dalles on Saturday morning. Their annual cherry festival is underway, and there's a parade on Saturday. With motorcycles. The theme this year: Cherries gone wild! No really, I'm not making that up.
It's an hour and a half by car to The Dalles, and I'm not sure how long it would take us via scoot, but much of it will end up being Interstate, as there are no through roads between here and there. (Actually, there is highway 14, but it's curvy, and I think the Interstate might actually be safer)
I hope we have decent weather. I hope we have decent weather. This sounds like so much fun!
...
A blog I follow has been talking about adjusting to life in a wheelchair. For me, this is fascinating stuff, and more than a little scary. Yesterday's entry was about working in a building that isn't ADA compliant, and what that really means for him/her.
When I look at places for the guide, wheelchair accessibility is one of my criteria. Really, I need to make a pad with all of the different things that I want to be figuring out, because there's always something (generally several somethings) that I forget, and then I have the choice of writing a review that I'll have to edit, or sitting on it.
Most of the time I do the former, because, you know, I'm not getting paid for it and I have a deadline.
Anyhow, the blog is scooterlife and yesterday's entry was The elevator from hell
...
I had an odd, though not unpleasant dream last night. I only had one breast and that one was kinda mishapen. I had the most amazing dorm room, that I needed to move out of right away. As usual, communication was indirect and diffuse. I had (duh) a lot of stuff. But it was all very cheerful.
April 18, 2006
Free people get to slouch.
This morning, when I left the house (and waited 20 minutes for the bus to come), it looked like it was about to dump. Now, the sun is shining. I shoulda rode my bike, I shoulda rode my bike.
But the bus is good for entertainment, at least. I was sitting unfortunately close to a couple women who were loudly discussing where the Nik3 outlet store was originally and where it was now, a friend who had gone back into prostitution and called it the music biz, text messaging with the guy du jour who was about to get dumped, how offended she was that another friend had offered to cut her (awful) hair, etc. I just worked on my i-cord for the ip0d sock.
Yesterday, I walked part of the way to work, and then walked all over creation over lunch. Quite pleasant. I got caught under the heated awning of the St2rbucks during a brief hail storm—I love watching a good storm from a safe place.
...
This weekend marked the six mile walk. It's mortifying to me to see how much conditioning I've lost. It was a hard walk, not physically, but emotionally.
I know there are folks out there who find solo activities to be thoroughly unpleasant, just because the mind won't shut up. I generally really like my own company, but Saturday was hard. I was very relieved when my coworker caught up with me and we were able to chat.
Maybe this has nothing to do with it, but my dad's birthday would have been Sunday. He's been gone for 8 years now, and it's confusing why some years are harder than others.
I know he would be proud of me. But I miss him a lot.
...
And, it appears my camera is dying. I've grown to love taking pictures, and now that it's mostly taking pictures of random digital noise, it is seriously bumming me out. We initially thought it was the compact flash. So, we changed out the card. Then, maybe it was the batteries. But now its sadly clear that it's the camera.
April 13, 2006
things I need to share
Do you need a searchable index to Calvin and Hobbes cartoons? Well, pshaw, of course you do.Try it with "chocolate"
http://www.transmogrifier.org/ch/comics/search.cgi
(this, I got via Laura Lemay)
happy Yuri Gagarin day! (yesterday)
I'm told that there's a party around the world in celebration of Yuri Gagarin and his amazing feat. He was the first person to go into space, to orbit the earth.
I probably wouldn't know about Yuri if it wasn't for going to Moscow during the 80s. Our first stop was at some Aerospace memorial which had a huge round picture of Yuri behind a dove. Since then, I've been obsessed.
(Though not obsessed enough to know about Yuri's night without someone telling me about it. Sigh)
...
I went to pilates last night, and it hurt. It hurt all during class, and I was seeing stars, but I kept going. My quads were cramping, then my feet. Jill chatted with me a bit after class, and I felt like I might fall over. By the time I got home, every part of my body was sore.
I did the only reasonable thing: drank some water, took some calcium, vitamin C and potassium, and drank some more water.
I was kinda expecting to wake up and be unable to move, however, I felt better. Still very achey, but better.
...
I had an icky experience at MPOW. I like to think I'm considerate, and punctual, and hard-working, that I'm a good judge of what's important and what's not. Anyways, I got my buttons pushed today, and I keep trying to figure out how I could have handled it better. I mean, I did handle it okay but it still made me feel icky.
And the next morning, it is still making me feel rather despondent. It's about respect. But it's also about my ability to take care of myself.
I'm going to need to figure out how to elevate the mood. I'm thinking, walking or biking to work.
April 11, 2006
Argh!
Oh. And the dog ate my bra.
Si se puede!
Maybe. But still.
...
I just got back from walking a quick mile and picking up some coffee. The air is brisk, but it's not raining. The sky, of course, looks like it may begin at any minute, but for the time being, it's dry.
It's been a good morning. I got some great cuddle time in with Sweetie, did some housekeeping on the guide, a load of dishes, and a load of laundry. And, I'll be learning some new stuff too. Wuhoo!
It's good that I'm suddenly productive after a couple of days of laying low with a headache that wouldn't budge. The weekend was a wash. I did go see a couple movies at a film festival, but otherwise spent too much time on the couch. Didn't read, didn't knit, didn't walk, didn't watch TV. Ugh.
Yesterday was kinda cool though. I had seen the headlines on USA Today about how immigrants were going to flood the streets, but to be honest, the protests and rallys weren't really on my agenda. So I'm at my desk when I hear chanting. My window faces out into the plaza of One World Trade Center, and it's a popular enough place for a protest.
I looked out and saw people walking in, carrying mexican, american and combination flags and signs, very peaceably. I decided it was time to take my lunch.
By the time I got downstairs, the plaza was entirely full, and people were still streaming in. Things were orderly, polite. I took my place with the professional photographers and their big fancy cameras, and hoped that the compact flash card in my camera would manage to hold out for one more set of pictures.
I could see our building's security people, all standing outside as if all hell was going to break loose.
There was very little police presence, and none of the drama that surrounded protests and rallys before we got this police chief. No riot squads, no SWAT team, no ATVs, no horse cops.
At one point I noticed a tall blonde cop standing over a significantly shorter hispanic man, and I noticed this as the rest of the crowd did, as they started surging toward the cop. The cop left like it was no big deal, and the atmosphere went back to being a celebration.
I tried to go into the coffee shop on the plaza, but the security guards wouldn't let me in. Where else could I get a bacon sandwich? So I ended up walking up 2nd Ave, against the current of the crowd flowing in. At one point, I ended up on the street, because there was no room on the sidewalk!
I got a fish taco, and headed back to the building. The cops had shut down the street, and they were obviously relaxed, answering questions. Wow, what a crazy idea that a protest doesn't have to be a confrontation.
I have to admit, my half-hour or forty five minutes in the rally/protest/celebration hugely buoyed my spirits. Si se peude, in deed!
April 7, 2006
clueless
There's been a lot of buzz on beer blogs and mailing lists about Michael Jackson, the craft beer expert, appearing on Conan O'Brian. It was an embarrassment.
Let's see. He had his fly open. And he was visibly drunk.
To make matters worse, Jon Lovitz was also on, and he had an easy target.
It made me think. Do beer lovers, even high-falutin' beer lovers like me, appear to be lushes? Am I clueless?
Well, I know Michael Jackson is, at least. Dude, this isn't about Conan, and this isn't about what you wore.
This is about being disheveled and drunk. This is about looking like an idiot.
...
One of my biggest fears is being clueless. Obviously, there are lots of opportunities for ignorance, but it's one thing to be ignorant, and another to be an idiot. I don't ever want to be an idiot.
April 6, 2006
scootational!
The worlds cutest kitten (aka Fuggles) inspects the Stella
I biked home last night—a gorgeous afternoon, and as usual, the ride home kicked my butt. Someday it will be fun. I suspect that's a long ways off, and it will come when I stop looking for it. Soon afterwards, Sweetie and I scooted to our scooter club meeting.
The meeting consisted, as it frequently does, of all of us standing in front of the Bookstore, talking about motorcycles and scooters. There wasn't a vintage scooter in the lot. We even talked a bit about official club business: the parade coming up, and the Cherry Blossom Festival in the Dalles, maybe even getting patches. We're such dorks!
We were at the point of actually starting to ride when a clutch cable snapped—I'm thankful that it was before the ride started. As it was, A's bike had a waiting garage about two blocks away, so it could have been much worse. But he had been so excited about the weather and the first spring ride, and his regret was palpable.
Anyways, we ended up just riding down to the pizza place around the corner from our house, and as we were parking the scoots, up comes A with family, so we all got to hang together and chat. It was the nicest evening I've had in a long while.
No computer, no TV, just socializing. Good.
Not that I've been having bad evenings. On Tuesday, Jill and I hung out for a while after pilates, and it just felt really good to catch up with her. And I got to have coffee with Jess on Tuesday morning. But I feel like I've had limited face to face time with humans I like lately, other than my sweetie.
Speaking of pilates, every inch from the knees and elbows up aches. Damn. My glutes hurt so bad that I have to think about how to rise from my office chair!
April 5, 2006
process, progress
So, I've managed to be good for the last 24 hours or so. I don't know how long I can hold out!
I'm joking, some. I went to pilates last night; I've eaten sensibly; I've been drinking water like a camel, and I rode the bicycle in today. It's not glamorous, but it's something.
Last night's pilates was all about hip flexors and glutes, for some reason, and now today I am all about feeling how achey and cranky my hip flexors and glutes are. I really like that achey feeling, though—I like this tangible reminder that I'm making my body stronger, and that I showed some self-discipline last night.
I'm reading (slowly) Steve Pavlina's Self-Discipline series, and it's quite clear that in some things, I have lots of discipline, and in others, I have none. I'd like to improve everything all at once, of course, like some sort of crazy magic wand that somehow cleans the house, and gets the weird grit and moss out of the grooves of the car's exterior, teaches me how to appropriately wear makeup and style my hair, and causes my bank account to swell.
But ya gotta start where you are. I've been reading Granny gets a Vibrator (worksafe, in spite of the name. Though it does have the word vibrator in very large letters right at the top)—she's got a great voice, and while there is a bit of noise, there's a lot of signal there. A recent post talks about how she went from being an 115 lb weakling to the formidable ass-kicker she is now, and it's clear that her transformation took some time. And it makes me really want to get back to the gym.
April 4, 2006
I shoulda biked
About this awful picture: it appears there is a fort, or a porch, or something, on top of a roof, right off Alberta! I gotta know more!
It's gorgeous outside—beautiful, sunny. I thought about bicycling, but then, I didn't. It was a matter of time: tires needing inflation, locks needing to be gathered, etc.
I met up with Jessica of Andiamo! this morning at the neighborhood coffee place, which is conveniently located by her new job at the BootsNAll World Headquarters. I've been following BNA since the beginning of time (which, I think means since about 1999 or 2000), when they were just three guys in a shared house in Eugene who had this blossoming, exploding travel web site. And it is so totally cool, so great, to see something so personal, so human, so what the web should be, paying for itself.
Anyways, I joke that BNA might be my dream job. But maybe I'm not joking.
It was great to meet Jessie, chat about travel and work and cats (the cat yesterday, by the way, was Fup. Store Cat. at Powells)—a tremendously humane way to start the morning.
Oh, and she gave me a DVD of the last day of the Tour de France, so I can see Lance's speech. Is that sweet or what? Wow!
Also, she has gorgeous hair.
...
So, I took the bus in, which was unexpectedly interesting. There was a couple, nodding off. This might not have caught my attention if not for the fact that there was gator@de all over the floor of the bus when I got on. A stop or two later, one of the passengers at the front of the bus began putting down paper towels and giving meaningful glances to the woman who had spilled the gator@de. It was only after watching the gator@de spilling woman (GSW) that I realized that she was, in fact, nodding off.
Her gestures, towards herself, and her seatmate, were clumsy. Sweeping back her hair meant using her hand like it was a piece of wood, totally foreign to her. She'd remain upright, but the hand holding the bottle would start to tip, or loosen. She'd fall into her seatmate, who would poke at her like you might a classmate who's snoring beside you, except his hands aren't working right either.
At one point when the gator@de holding hand started to fail, the woman who had put down the towels started saying, "Miss, Miss, your drink..." to no recognition. So the man behind her jabbed her and said, "Your drink is spilling". GSW initially looked pissed, like Courtney Love pissed, like I'm gonna beat up as soon as I can figure out how to stand up.
But then, she started thanking people for telling her. When they clumsily, slowly lurched off the bus, she thanked everyone again.
This totally made the normal looking guy who was having a conversation about celebrity women with himself seem, well, commonplace.
...
I had another bad night's sleep punctuated by waking up and thinking about the guide. Jessie was talking about how the BNA big cheese bounds outta bed super early charged by the new ideas he's excited about... I wish that was me. Instead, I wake up in the night thinking, I gotta figure out x or I gotta do y, and I just lay there, trying to will myself back to sleep.
I think this is just my body saying, VJ, you better get out there and get some more exercise.
I've been intrigued by the idea of getting up earlier. Brett of Walking Portland has been talking about rising at 5am, and Hollie of Cheesepuppet mentioned this article about how to be an early riser. Essentially, it just comes down to getting up earlier. No whining, no but I'm tireds. Just set the alarm and do it.
...
Part of this might be about the fact that, for the first time in a couple months, I don't have a collection of entries waiting to be posted on the guide. Usually, I have at least a couple in waiting, and a couple partially written.
I've been so caught up in upgrading, and in working on an alternate version. I need to keep the big picture in mind!
April 3, 2006
time changes
May I just say that I hate when the time changes? I hate it!
Saturday's PFit was good. There was walking, about 4 miles worth. I lost one of my toe-sock-cum-fingerless-gloves, so I'm bummed. But by and large, a nice walk, good heart rate, blah blah blah.
Then I went and ruined it by having a beer with breakfast. Which meant I went home and slept most of the afternoon.
As you might have noted by the last message, I upgraded my blogging software. It all went well, ha, until Saturday night when I couldn't get the guide to rebuild (which basically means: I couldn't change anything). So Sunday morning, I sat on the back porch combing through code while Sweetie brewed some beer. It took a ridiculously long amount of time to find the bad code... but once I did, it all was lovely and sparkly and new.
Still, if you encounter weirdness, please e me at -vickijean at gmail dot com-
Setting up the cellphone, however, has not been as smooth. For some reason, it doesn't seem to matter what phone number I dial: I get an answering machine at American Eagle. What is American Eagle? Hell if I know.
I just want it to work. I don't want it to be a project. Sigh! Time for a walk!
April 2, 2006
this is a test
Okay. I've just upgraded MT. I wonder what the fallout will be. This seems too easy.
