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6月25日 Support Come in all Forms
A favorite idiom hung from my desk when I was in college:
“I was never called a feminist until I refused to let others treat me like a doormat.” (unknown author)
I grew up in an era where being independent was a good thing, although during the years when I was emotionally and physically untethering myself from a destructive relationship, I learned that my lifetime of forged independence was actually a huge detriment because of the isolation it created.
Very quickly I was going to accept help from others, abandon my dignity at the door, and turn the page starting a healthier chapter of our lives. Having learned that lesson, I entered this endeavor knowing the support of family, friends and service-based organizations would help me meet my goals.
The following links are unsolicited testimonials for establishments that do not know me personally, but provided wonderful support, products and services so I could train for this tour and raise money for children’s healthcare.
Lynnwood Calvary Chapel – “I have plans for you…a plan for hope and a future without despair” this was the verse that kept me going during adversity (I’ll be reciting it while ascending the mountains!) I enjoy the heartfelt sermon taught each week by Pastor Scott and fully experience the spirit from where it comes. Casual and friendly, always a satisfying drink from the spiritual well providing inspiration from on high.
Triumph Multisport – For endurance training supplements, these guys rock! John and his crew have the BEST selection of supplements. When I mentioned doing a 685 mile ride through France for Children’s – eyes lit up and they responded “Oh man! I wish I could go!” They obviously “get it”! Next year, we'll welcome more riders.
Team Estrogen – My very favorite site for great women’s cycling and running apparel. All my favorite pieces came from TE – great selection, price and service all the way around.
Velo Cycles – As a returning rider, with most previous experience on a hybrid (read -- heavy with fat tires) I got Amelia, my yellow Giant TCR, at Velo. My cycling partner Lowell has been a customer at Lloyd Tamura's shop for years, buying many bikes there. Mike, their mechanic takes good care of us and our bikes.
Dinner’s Ready – In my quest to squeeze in precious time for training, I needed a way to meet my training goals and my children’s nutritional needs without relying on expensive poor quality take-out. Kathy and Pim of the Mill Creek Dinner’s Ready made sure I could feed my family affordable, high quality meals at a fraction of the time it takes to cook from scratch. For my kids and I, it saved time and money and we had less waste because I let each child pick their favorite meals.
Cascade Cycling Club – A nonprofit, Seattle cycling club making sure everyone knows the benefits of cycling. Fabulously organized with daily rides led by trained volunteer ride leaders, the club is for EVERYONE who loves cycling. If you’re new to the sport, welcome! There are rides for newbies as well.
In our current society where service and inspiration is sometimes hard to find, I hope you will consider those that daily follow their own passion and in turn assisted me in creating a healthier environment for our children.
Thank you for supporting Children's Hospital through the Pedal It Forward guild.
This time next week, we'll be cycling through the French countryside for Children's Hospital. Six days and counting!!!
6月22日 Mon Chien“Je me suis ennuyé de mon chien ! Mon chien! Mon chien,” I yelled from the depths of a restless dream.
As I stood there, holding the hand of my preschooler, I tried to communicate, in very poor French, with a conductor that our train had left without us. There we were, Sam and I, orphaned travelers, feet heavily attached to a foreign train platform that looked like a set out of Wild Wild West. I panicked realizing the train left with all our belongings, our identification, money and of greater concern, my cycling partner (who in real life is also my interpreter.)
My anxiety built, as the conductor looked at me quizzically, trying to ascertain why I was fervently telling him I missed my dog. My heart raced, I started to sweat. This was my worst nightmare. Thankfully, I woke up and it was only a nightmare.
Our 685 mile journey starts in 9 days. Am I ready? My first training ride was in February, the Chilly Hilly, covering over 30 miles with an altitude gain of 2,675 feet. The day after the ride, struggling to stay upright, willing my legs to work as a team on the way to the bathroom, Lowell chuckled, “want a bedpan?” All of a sudden, the teenage grief I gave my parents, teasing as their bodies rebelled from weekend tennis or cycling, was stinging payback.
I have lost 8 pounds and about 7 inches across a region spanning elbows to knees. I’ve cycled over 1000 miles and lifted roughly 4000 pounds of weights to prepare my body for the tour. My friends from afar say “You must be buff!” Well, no. Sadly, I am not. But I’m definitely fitter than before I started -- better muscle tone and endurance, more lung capacity, and legs that will carry me to the bathroom and back.
A couple of months into my training, I visited Eric Moen (http://kirklandpt.com), serious physical therapist for Rock Star cyclists (I don’t include myself in this group.) He took excellent care to fully explain why Amelia didn’t fit quite right causing some knee and neck pain. At the end of my visit, as I described the general route of our tour – starting in Bordeaux and ending at l’alpe du’huez -- he commented, “I have several patients because of l’alpe du’huez.” Uh, okay. Noted. Lucky for us, we end our trip at the top of the Alps, sans descent. After making the modifications, I took Amelia on a 40 mile spin; she felt like a different bike, and I felt like a whole rider.
My challenge during this tour is more than the physical. It is also the psychological; dealing with a language barrier, trying not to get lost on unfamiliar roads with a cycling partner who would rather pedal an extra 20 miles than ask for directions, and the physical, maintaining cadence to cover the ground before dusk.
Unlike the nightmare from last night, my excitement is fueled with the knowledge that we are all capable of dreaming big dreams, and through me and you, all children with health concerns will have the opportunity to dream big dreams too.
...because a healthy child is priceless.
Merci! A Ride with Curious GeorgeA favorite riding jersey is sun yellow with Curious George on it. Everytime I wear it, adults smile and kids point, "Hey, Curious George! Look Mom -- it's Curious George." I love a child's smile. Anyway, I like the jersey because it appeals to children and adults alike. That place where an inquisitive petite monkey CAN ride a bicycle, go to school and get into a lot of curious mischief, sans time outs.
The date was 1969. I was a Kindergartener and in the predawn hour mom was driving my father to the airport as my sister and I sprawled in the back seat in our jammies. As an aviation electrician, he was on his way to Vietnam to provide maintance support for a helicopter unit. As I sat engulfed in a sea of dirty brown vinyl that was the inner hide of our behometh nineteen-fifty-something paneled station wagon, I strained to read Curious George that dawn. It was my first book. Cover to cover, disappearing from the pain and simmering angst that belonged to my mother, I discovered reading was much like taking a walk to a new destination and picking the flowers along the way -- beautiful, surprising and engaging.
When we returned home from the airport, my little sister and I completely unaware of why mom was so upset, I told her I couldn't go to school. "Why? Are you sad Daddy left?" she asked softly. "No it's not that. My stomach hurts really bad" I replied in a very small voice. That's when I learned that reading in a cave of a car by bad light is not good for one's
equilibrium. "It's ok. You can stay home with me and Sissie" she said. I felt better. And I read some more.
Please join me in making sure every child gets the opportunity to discover their passion.
...because a healthy child is priceless. 6月21日 My StoryA number of people have been asking me "What's your Story?" since I announced the formation of our guild 6 months ago. What they really want to know is “What’s your motivation?”
At the top of my mind are events that led my three young children and I to move to Seattle several years ago. Ending an untenable marriage to a spouse with anger and control issues was the start. After a number of restraining orders that resulted in a divorce and court order to move, the kids and I left our home and friends to rebuild our lives.
I had always lived my personal and professional life as a peacemaker and a problem-solver. I’ve volunteered and worked for nonprofits most of my life, and as such, been acutely aware when others took advantage of the help available from the “social service network”. Up until this point, never had I needed charity; I was always on the other side of the fence, assisting and aiding.
During the pending court issues, I knew assistance was available from my church’s food pantry, and much needed and utilized counseling services from a local woman’s shelter, but when it came to seeing a doctor, for me or of greater concern, my children, there was little assistance offered. Getting appropriate medical care was not available if one was not living in the depths of abject poverty as defined by our governmental systems. For my family at the time, medical insurance was unaffordable as I tried to get back on my feet recovering emotionally, professionally and financially.
But that is not where I wanted to focus my energy when I’m asked “What’s your Story?” My story is more than the sum of interactions with one irrational person. Not dwelling on the negative under mind-blowing stress became an art form steeped in conscience determination. Controlling the whirlwind of drama that followed my former spouse like dirt devils in the Mohave was not something I could control. The broken family court system, also, something I could not control. I took a deep breath and prayed every day for our survival, for strength to overcome adversity, and to learn from the lessons in this season of my life.
That first Christmas was especially hard, as are all fill in the blank holidays the first year after a sobering loss. Then, one night before Christmas, my good friend Lisa, a nurse and mom of three, knocked on my door with her husband, and brought in overflowing loads of wrapped Christmas presents for my children and me. It turned out her coworkers in the OB ward at the hospital she worked adopted our family for Christmas! I was stunned. Speechless and dumbfounded, I stood as they carried in box after box while my children slept soundly. I felt unworthy; I did nothing to deserve their kindness, yet out of pure compassion, a group of benevolent strangers reached out and were willing to help a family in need.
Being the recipient of such generosity one hundred fold during this time from our friends, church, neighbors and family, I intuitively knew that our difficult circumstances were temporary and determination would be replaced with resolution. We were going to pull out of this tale-spin intact and in my heart of hearts there would be a time when I could give back again.
That time is now.
If my story touched you, I hope you’ll consider a donation to Children’s Hospital, through the Pedal It Forward Guild, because every day there are parents who have the same struggle and anxiety keeping children healthy and safe. Sixty percent of the patients seen last year at Seattle Children's Hospital received some sort of financial assistance.
During a single visit or years of care, through no fault of their own, the hospital’s young patients will seek to rebuild their health, while their parents and guardians seek to rebuild their faith. Both are accomplished through the help of an expert medical environment, its staff and facilities.
Our children are precious gifts to each and every one of us, and no parent should be left with the guilty burden of wondering how to financially meet the health care needs of their children when the overwhelming cost of medical care is not an option at the time.
For more information on how some families have been helped and healed by the doctors, nurses and staff at Seattle Children’s Hospital, click here http://storyproject.seattlechildrens.org/featuredstories.aspx.
Please consider giving…because a healthy child is priceless. 6月17日 A DisclosureSo this is old news, but I had a vicarious interest in Fat Man Walking (http://walking.about.com/b/a/257673.htm), partly because it's a curious story in a Forrest Gump-ish sort of way, and partly because Fat Man is from my home town. If you haven't heard, it's the story of Steve Vaught, who in a desperate attempt to regain control over his life and weight, walked across the United States from Oceanside, California to New York City. His 13 month journey received national press, and ended with the media claiming he hadn't actually walked the whole distance.
Who doesn’t love an underdog? My whole life, I’ve always rooted for the underdog, hence my grievous loss during the Superbowl this year (did anyone really think Seattle could pull it off?) This fact was also very evident in my choice of jobs, friends and the men I dated. I'm happy to say the latter was thoroughly analyzed by well-paid professionals and rectified. I'll stick to assisting others through public works, but leave sacrificing personal charity to my children, thankyouverymuch.
Throughout my childhood, I was a pleaser, obedient and self-sacrificing; living and breathing to do things for other people for miniscule amounts of recognition. As a young teen, every Friday throughout several summers, my sister and I accompanied mom to visit our shut-in invalid great-grandmother. For my "Nonnie", we would run errands, stock the fridge, mow the lawn and do other small tasks that required nothing but the time we had to give.
One particularly hot summer day, Nonnie slumped into her favorite chair, the one with hand crocheted doilies on the arms to disguise its worn condition. Wilted by the Long Beach heat and acrid odor of oil refinery smog clinging to the ozone, she complained that her feet hurt and asked, "Be a dear for me, and help me clip my toenails." At that moment, my stomach turning inside out -- I’d rather do anything than kneel on the floor touching her sore bunions and knobby, twisted arthritic toes.
Every cell in my body hated this task, but I did it, because she could not.
While I didn’t particularly like giving up my Fridays during the summer, I understood that helping Nonnie was part of our familial obligation. She lived for our visits and it brought her great joy to spend time with her granddaughter and great grandchildren during those short years before her death. Being the last of four generations with only girls rooted in a matriarchal family structure, "we girls" were use to doing things for others. A hint of martyrdom existed at times, but nonetheless, we tended to those who needed help as part of the fabric weaving one day to the next. Whether by design or condition, I have always rooted for the underdog.
Did Fat Man set out to intentionally defraud the public on his journey of self-discovery and health improvement? Does it really matter if he took a 100 mile bus ride in New Mexico instead of walking it? I've been to New Mexico -- it's hot. Really hot. And dusty. If I had walked across three states, through scorching desert heat, I'd probably take a bus too. The moral dilemma aside, the point of the excursion was not to punish himself, it was to stretch himself, to challenge and persevere, and that was what he accomplished, losing 100 pounds and finding some inner peace.
Even among the controversy brewing at the end of his biped journey some 2500 miles later, he helped others realize the power of the human spirit. Let's assume he helped just a handful of people in each city across the country, his excursion and the memory of the journey lives on as motivational fuel that may affect positive change for a generation of overeaters.
Our cycling tour through France to benefit Children’s involves 685 very hilly miles. As the tour nears, 15 days from now, I wonder if I will be able to do it, to hump and pump 685 miles through some of the most difficult stretches of mountains. My cycling partner (and guild member) Lowell has done this trip the past 3 years prior and he finished every time.
My preparation for this journey has morphed from the physical demands to the mental. Today as I cycled up Juanita Drive from Bothell to Kirkland, there alone -- just me and Amelia (my bike) in the cool early morning dew it was a duel between me and that hill. Nearing the top slowly, barely
staying upright, feet welded to the pedals, thighs and butt burning as if flames shot from the seat, a bouncy brunette runner flew past on foot. "Good mornin!" she chirped, not missing a stride. A modest nod was all I could manage as I almost fell over, like a tipped cow, trying to recover from my startle. I was in a zone. Which zone I don't know, but I was not going to be defeated by that chunk of dirt.
When I asked Lowell recently how one prepares mentally for the physical challenge ahead, he replied “You just do. At about day four, you realize it’s just you and the bike and you have to get from point A to point B before the sun sets.” While I appreciated his honesty, I know there will be days when I may not have the strength or stamina to make one more rotation.
Through burning thighs, ringing ears, and a heart beating so hard it feels like it might explode through my chest wall, I will give it my best efforts, tackling the mountainside with tenacity and spirit. The point of doing this ride is to challenge, not kill myself. I do, after all is said and done, have three beautiful children to care for and watch grow up.
So, the disclaimer – for all those generous people who love an underdog – that would be me. The generously spirited, self sacrificing, slightly overweight, middle aged single mom bicycling from one end of a country to another, in the hope to raise awareness and money for a wonderful organization. I am not a professional cyclist and I have never undertaken a ride of this duration or intensity before. If you are inclined to donate, do so with the understands of how an average person can push themselves mentally and physically to reach great goals, for themselves, and for others. There is a possibility that a sag wagon will be used (or, for that matter, a bus, taxi or mule) in the event that I bonk physically and start speaking in tongues. If that occurs, know that there are two of us on the journey riding as a team for Children’s Hospital, and one of us has done this ride several years over and finished.
6月14日 Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressorI quite easily could have named my blog “the Fat Female Cyclist” after on of my favorite blogs “Fat Cyclist” (http://spaces.msn.com/fatcyclist). I also considered “Fear of Embarrasing Oneself in Skintight Bright Spandex” which led me to examine why I often refuse to embark upon a task unless convinced it can be executed p.e.r.f.e.c.t.l.y.
One of my favorite authors, Anne Lemott writes in her book Bird by Bird, “Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people.” I so relate to this statement realizing I have spent much of my time trying to perfect an ideal standard which kept me from pursuing opportunities. Don't get me wrong, I've accomplished a lot, but find myself at times with a balloon bubble overhead recollecting childhood conversations with my mother. She's shaking her head slowly saying "why are you such a worry-wart?"
Perfectionism comes in many forms and when one brings it upon herself, well, it's just exhausting. Kinda like this blog that took me one evening to write and three nights to edit to perfection (augh!)
When my cycling partner, Lowell, told me about the ride he did every summer through France, he described in graphic detail the scenery, beautiful architecture, delectable food and camaraderie of the fellow riders. The mental images conjured up led me to a place so serene and breathtaking that I not only wanted to do the ride, I wanted to share the journey with others.
After doing research considering this tour, I categorized and vocalized to Lowell all the negative thoughts that crept to mind over coffee. I barfed up one issue after another why doing this ride was an impossibility for me. Negative self-speak spewed from me -- I’m out of shape. I’m too old. My bike isn’t good enough. I don’t remember my French. I can't afford it. What if I careen off a mountaintop and my children are left orphaned? After listening to me patiently, Lowell said, “Does it sound like something you would like to do?”
With enthusiasm I said "Yes, of course, it’s all the things I love. Bicycling on quiet country roads, being challenged physically, eating wonderful meals, and who can pass up fresh baked patisseries and coffee, as the French saying goes, is as black as death and hot as hell. Then deep green olfactory notes linking thousands of years of history while walking through damp stone castles and ancient ruins... "
His response was simple. “Then don’t accept any excuse! If it’s something you really, really want to do, don’t let anything stand in your way.”
It’s ironic. His advice was the same advice I would give others. Why did I find it so hard to give myself permission to do something that would fulfill me? It was then I realized my desire for perfectionism was just a convenient excuse to keep me from achieving my own goals. Perfectionism was my oppressor, and has been for many years.
Take a stand for what is important to you. Find your voice, and mobilize your body to fulfill your dreams. Life takes us on an incredible, relatively short journey and through every experience and every person met -- good, bad or indifferent -- experiences and encounters mold and massage our values and social responsibilities. Think about that the next time you let negative self-speak creep into your consciousness. Counter it instead with the possibility that you can affect change.
6月8日 Lost and Found -- MojoSo, I've been "in training" with a goal of pedaling 80 - 100 per week, including at least one grueling, long, hilly ride each week until the tour starts on July 2nd. Today I cycled home from work, a breezy 20 mile trip, and was not on my game. I was tired, off balance, and genuinely annoyed from a nondescript clicking noise under my left pedal. Worst of all, I just couldn't find that sweet space that one can sink into with a great ride -- the trifecta coming from a beautiful dance with earth, pedals and brain that makes time, and mileage, stand still. I love that place!
Maybe it was stress, maybe it was the laptop and 40 lbs of paper I was shleping on my back, or maybe it was lack of sleep caused by the stress. Whatever it was, I ended up catching a draft behind a nice stranger who kept a comfortable, steady pace my entire ride and points beyond. It felt like cheating. I was a barnacle on a humpback catching a ride to the Sea of Cortez.
When I committed to this ride back in February, I attended a Bike Expo sponsored by my local bike club (http://www.cascade.org/EandR/expo/.) Somehow I envisioned a little retail therapy, blatant commercialism and lots of nonprofit groups all vying for the attention and money of serious and recreational cyclists would suit my renewed pursuit for the pedals. Surely it would give me the emotional and physical fuel I seeked during the cold, dark winter.
At that Expo, I soaked up information around every turn. The best tidbet I received came from one of the female riders on the Group Health Team
(http://www.ghc.org/cycling/sponsorships/team.jhtml) When asked how she balanced her priorities with her passion for cycling as a mother, a wife, a professional in her field, and a cyclist. Her comment stuck with me, "Simply put," she said, "you decide what is important. I cut out what was an unnecessary time-waster, and that was TV." I can do that, I thought. I can live without TV. Absolutely. No TV. OK, but nobody said anything about not getting enough sleep. So, yeah, I've figured out what is important - sleep.
When I pulled off the road today, my five year old greeted me with her usually exuberance, arms outstretched, running towards me at full speed readying to collide into my middrift. As I took off my helmet and flipped my hair away from my sticky neck, she proclaimed, "Mama, you're bootieful." Ahh yes, priorities, sleep and my kids. Both give me mojo to pedal it forward. 6月6日 My Top 10The Top Ten reasons why I'm bicycling 675 miles for Children's Hospital is because:
10. I can,
09. True sacrifice should make one sweat,
08. Parents shouldn't have to chose either a roof over their head or a healthy child,
07. Succumbing to fear, doubt, or criticism are not options,
06. Ever since that quiet conversation with God, I've known I had it in me to do great things,
05. Every cyclist, no matter what physical condition, needs motivation to power up the Alps,
04. Thanks to Serena Williams, I've come to love my big thighs and want to put 'em to good use,
03. Every day we have on Earth is one more opportunity to love someone other than ourselves,
02. Our community is small but our world is big,
01. The health of a child is priceless. 6月5日 Life Imitating ArtI bought tickets for Les Miserable before I knew I was going to ride through France. Only knowing this production was a well-known favorite among patrons of theater, I found myself immersed in the fabric of the characters and set design. Simply put, the story embodied why I am driven to cycle across the country and bring understanding that we all should do our part to help those less fortunate than ourselves.
The protagonist Valjean echoed my cause. Valjean was a man with good intentions, but condemned to a life as a marked man because he was jailed as a young boy for stealing food. Very “Oliver Twist-ish”, the story parallels his life and the life of a single mother raising her daughter by herself, dying an early death from exhaustion and exile. Years after being granted amnesty by a grace-filled bishop who paid for his indiscretions with a single pair of silver candlesticks, Valjean honorably vows to care for her young daughter Cosette upon her mother’s death.
The brilliantly dark set design and costumes contrasted the ornate relief ceiling of golden peacocks and burgundy wine accents of the grand 1926 5th Avenue Theater. Herein was life, imitating art, presenting so superbly a visual juxtaposition between the rich and the poor. The struggle of the lower class, and depth of pain and despair caused by not having access to the basic needs to live, poignantly acted through song and dance, moving the audience to shoulder shaking cries of unadulterated sadness.
That is why I ride. I ride for all the Cosette’s and Valjean’s in our community. I ride to make a difference. I ride to ease the suffering, emotional and financial, for parents who do not have the resources to pay for medical care for their children. |
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