When Menopause Attacks! Part Endless

    Remember that line in James and the Giant Peach where the peach is careening out of control and everyone aboard is hanging on for dear life?  "Well, I guess this is it, Joe"  While I sincerely doubt Roald Dahl meant for his story of a giant peach full of giant insects and one normal-sized boy to be a metaphor for the trials of perimenopause, I believe he fully captured the cycling chaos and despair that is my life these days.  And for those who can relate, those crotchety insects perfectly represent with Jungian clarity the perpetual internal dialogue every facet of my personality is having with the world.  There is a silver lining in all this; I appear to be in the later stages of perimenopause, which means soon I'll have all the symptoms I have now, just without the period.  If the silver lining catches the sun too often and hurts my eyes, it better be prepared to be yelled at.
    Remember how judgmental I was last year?  It is now exponentially worse, in a tragic/comic way.  I think I may have even brandished an umbrella at some youths, although my memory is hazy these days and I can't be sure.

"Well, I never!

And the mood swings are like PMS on four hits of the brown acid; all that is wrong with the world is amplified and unrelenting, while all that is hopeful and harmonious is but a fool's dream.  I've done every stupid healthy thing advised under these circumstances, with what I can only guess are results that are less (?) horrible than if I ate donuts and drank wine all day.  Not like I was doing that at any time anyway.  In fact, I was already living a ridiculously healthy lifestyle before all of this nonsense happened.  (Insert "damned if you do, damned if you don't" cliché here).  One "lifestyle change" I haven't done yet though, is meditation.  So I'm going to try it, and I'll be learning from the best - Edina, Sweetie!

An excerpt from her masterful selection from the Cabernet Sutra

    

    So, somehow in the midst of all this crap, I managed to get myself appointed as a Liv Ambassador, because the crabby, cynical, Snape-like contingent of women's cycling was clearly underrepresented.  (Look for the picture of the woman in a black pointy hat with a greenish hue to her face.)  Liv Cycling, for those of you who haven't been paying any attention whatsoever to what I think is important, is a division of Giant Bicycles devoted entirely to women, and run entirely by women, from bicycle design all the way to marketing and advertising.  Every bicycle Liv makes, even though it occupies a comparable category to the men's (aero road, enduro, performance XC, etc...), has been completely redesigned based on a buttload of data on women's bodies; their center of gravity, how they physically achieve maximum power output, where they don't need stiffness in a bike frame compared to the norm.  Keeping in mind that not all women's bodies are the same, the data represents an average of a very large sample, which has now been used to produce a lot of options of factory stock bicycles for a segment of the population that was virtually shut out of the industry until recently.  This is also good news for men who don't conform to standard sizing who have had a hard time finding bikes for themselves.  And they don't have to worry about all their choices being pink.
    As for my part, I'm working hard to be the fly in the ointment, by suggesting repeatedly that Liv make road bike models in two wheel sizes, 700 and 650c.  Scott has done this already, building several of their mountain bike models around 27.5 and 29 inch wheels.  As far as I know, they didn't plunge immediately into bankruptcy upon introducing this to the public.  Liv could probably do something similar without imploding, and probably make a profit, too!  Crankenstein over here will keep moaning loudly until something happens.  Or until I turn 50, whichever comes first.

It All Started With Winter Solstice And A Black Dog At A Crossroads

  

    Last year at this time I was furiously blogging; mostly about the one thing I love to do as often as possible - cycling. In this part of the world, last year's winter was especially godawful, and yammering away about all things cycling-related on the interwebs was a balm for me, and hopefully entertaining for some of you.  Well, this winter has proven itself to be even worse than the last one, and my reaction this time around has been to sit in stunned silence for the most part, occasionally slapping at the Netflix arrow to make it "go".
    I can't shake the feeling that summer never happened, or the feeling of being trapped in a zip code I no longer want to live in.  This sensation is utterly new for me; I used to love the season, and all of its activities. An aversion to winter, however, has been growing, surely and steadily.  It's not about being cold.  It's kind of not even about winter.  It's about restriction of movement, and about the resources I (and most everyone else) waste in staggering amounts to have this lifestyle in extreme weather.  It's about growing old in a place that is "no country for old" anything.
  

A fine line  

    On the Winter Solstice it was cold, but the roads were dry, so I decided to go on a 30 mile bike ride to a historic lighthouse.  During the summer the road that led to the lighthouse was being rebuilt, but by now it was complete, and smooth, and quiet.  Powdery salt drifted across the dirt shoulder, and there was a briny hint of it in the air.  As I rode along in that grey morning, I started to think, "It could always be twilight here". An anxiety began to stir within, and I remembered a time someone told me, "Anxiety is when the Universe says, 'Yes'".  Aloud, I said, "Is it ok to forget what the question was?"  At that moment I knew I was riding on a section of road that was unlike any previous section.  I don't tend to use the term, "haunted", because ghosts are rarely involved in these types of things.  It's more like a place that is not the here-and-now, but overlaps with the here-and-now anyway, like a worn-out cassette tape that plays both sides when you hit the button. One side is clear, the other a whisper; but which is which?  The results of this overlapping can be, "busy" all the way to, "I'm really not welcome here".  At that moment I was smack-dab in the middle of "slightly disturbing".  Knowing at this stage in my life never to ask, "why" because sometimes there's an answer, I kept on pedaling until, about 2 miles down the road, I felt the unnerving place fall away behind me.  It was no longer "always twilight" and the sky, the houses, the road all appeared normal.
    I arrived at the access road to the lighthouse without incident about 20 minutes later, and found a barrier across it for the off-season.  Since walking my bike around the barrier would take me through what looked like someone's front yard, I decided to turn around and head back. Oh well!  Never reaching your intended destination is just one of the many things I love about cycling.  I took some awful glove-hampered cell phone photos, ate a few snacks, and rode back the way I came.
    Pretty soon I was back in the "special zone".  This time, as I approached an intersection with another road, I passed two things: a large stump with several pairs of children's shoes and stuffed animals nailed to it, and a sign that read,  "High Collision Intersection. Drive Smart."  How did I not see these things while going in the other direction, I thought.  Then I noticed there was only the sign facing in my direction - there was no warning on the other side (?)  And the stump was set back from the road a bit on this side.  Well, I could have seen the stump out of the corner of my eye while riding the other way, and then I could have subconsciously "felt" something.  There is a fine line.  Or, as some say, a veil.

     

Another road and a dog

      

    At an intersection I came to an abrupt stop and stared at the black shepherd dog standing in the middle of the crossroad, looking in my direction - searching, it seemed to me.  Cars coming from all directions started to slow and halt.  The dog took a few limping steps, then again looked up, searching.  I tried calling to her - there was no reaction.  A truck on my side stopped and the driver asked me what was going on.  I started to babble something about trying to lure the dog and maybe there was injury and his face went blank and he drove away while I was in mid-sentence. Other cars started to creep around the dog and drive off.  Just as I was beginning to panic about what to do, a woman pulled up and yelled to me out of her window, "Should I call the SPCA?"  Relieved, I replied, "Yes!  I didn't know there was an SPCA in this town!"  At that moment, the dog suddenly snapped to attention, like she just remembered she had somewhere important to be, turned around and trotted lopsidedly through someone's yard toward a green house set back from the road. I jogged with my bike over to the woman in her car, and said, "I'm going to ride down to the house and ask if that's their dog.  I can't tell if she's injured or where she's supposed to be."  

    I got on my bike and took off down the road and on to the dirt driveway.  The dog was nowhere in sight.  As I got closer to the house, I saw it had a sliding glass front door with a lot of potted plants behind it and I paused for a second.  Probably never used, I decided, and kept going.  The driveway curved away at the back of the house where there was a parked car, and there the dog stood, looking at the back door. I laid my bike down in the driveway, its lights still blinking, and walked at an angle toward the dog, who was now pointedly staring at me.  She let out a no-nonsense warning bark a second later, and I told her she was a good girl and tried not to hold my breath.  I could see now the flecks of white on her muzzle, like snow.  She barked once more at me as I came closer, but this time she pointed her nose at the door right after - "Let me in!" I laughed my relief and walked up the steps and rang the bell.
    "Ahhh!" A woman's voice.
    "Hello?" I yelled, trying to look in a kitchen window but seeing nothing but the top of a sink.
    "Ahhh!" Again, shaky.  An elderly woman.
    "Do you need help?"  Holy shit!
    "Ye-es! I can't come to the door!"  Holy shit shit!
    "I'm going to call for help! I'll be right back!"  Hoping that was in my Adult Voice.  I grabbed my phone out of my jacket and ran around to where I could see the road.  The woman was still in her car but had pulled it up to the end of the driveway.  I started running toward her with my phone held in the air, like this was a universal symbol for something useful.  It was at least batty enough to get her to jump out of her car and come running.  She met me almost halfway.
    "I went to the back door and a woman on the other side said she needed help!" I panted.  Was I holding my breath that whole time?
    "Oh my god!  I'll call 911!"  I noticed she was also holding her phone aloft.
    "I'll go back to the house and see if she's ok!"  We were Agents of Doing Something.  I ran back around the corner where the shepherd dog still stood expectantly at the door.
    "Someone is on the way to help you!" I yelled as I ran up the steps, and impulsively grabbed the knob.  It was unlocked.  As soon as the door was open part way the black dog barged her way in.  If there had been any doubt she lived there, it was gone in one proprietary second.

Am I an asshole?

      As soon as I was in the door I was facing a set of carpeted stairs, and to my left was the doorway to the kitchen.  "Hello?"  I leaned into the kitchen at the sound of her voice, and there were the head and shoulders of a white-haired woman smiling at me from a bed in a room at the back.  

    "Are you ok?  Help is on the way!"  She's bed-ridden.  She hasn't fallen.  Jesus!

    "Oh, I'm fine! I can't answer the door, I'm stuck in bed."

    "Oh! Uh, do you have anyone taking care of you?  Do you need anything?"  ?????

    "Oh, bless your heart!  My husband Bill is upstairs.  He's probably asleep.  You can call him.  He's hard of hearing.  So, what is your name?"  I answered, starting to feel my head morphing into that heel shape like in a Warner Bros. cartoon.  She proceeded to ask for my last name, and precisely what part of the street we found her dog wandering on, "That's Lily.  She limps because she's old. And she's probably getting a little senile, too."  I looked at Lily, who had made herself comfortable in the hallway. She met my gaze and sniffed.  After some more orderly in-depth questioning (well, I had just walked into her house uninvited), the woman again assured me she was fine, and to go get her husband Bill upstairs.  Then it struck me - what if there was no "husband Bill"?  What if the woman was "getting a little senile" like her dog?  To me it seemed impossible that anyone would have slept through a stranger walking into his house and talking loudly across a room with his wife.  He would have at least sensed the change, wouldn't he?  Wouldn't I?  I wouldn't have fallen asleep in the first place, ever.  Never, ever again!  The complete absence of worry in this house was, worrying.  And a new thought - if he did exist and I walked upstairs and startled an old deaf man, would I give him a heart attack?  I tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs, "Uh, Bill?" I called up, rather limply.  Nothing stirred.  I could see a closed door at the top and I listened to the silence.  Remember, there's a car in the driveway, I told myself.  Someone drives it, and it isn't her.
    I walked back into the kitchen doorway and took a good look for the first time.  The kitchen was clean, and tidy.  There were hamburgers defrosting on the counter.  Clearly Lily's counter-surfing days were over.  And clearly someone was taking care of everything and everyone in that house.
    "I want to thank you so much for your help!" the woman beamed.  I looked down at the floor - it was covered with dirt and melting snow from my cycling shoes.  More work for Bill.  I smiled at her wanly.  I didn't quite feel like what I was doing was "help".
    There was movement in the corner of my eye - the woman from the car was standing behind the glass screen door waving her arm.  I had left the main door to the house open too, I realized with mounting embarrassment.  The heel-shaped head threatened to turn into the donkey butt.  I walked over and cracked open the door.  She gave me the 911 Report - there was an officer and an ambulance on the way.  I told her about the woman being confined to a bed, and my dilemma, real or imagined, with Bill.  We looked at each other for a minute, and then decided to let the 911 call stand, and hopefully get the SPCA call canceled.  She walked off dialing her phone, and I walked back into the kitchen.

"Doing nothing is better than being busy doing nothing" - Lao Tzu

    "Someone should be here very soon to check on you - I'm very sorry for the intrusion."  I was starting to reel under the destructive power of Good Intentions.

    "Oh my, I can't thank you enough for your help!"  That unending cheeriness, a constant light on in the face of someone whose life dangled by a thread held at one end by an old man who had fallen asleep somewhere.  A thread that could be unraveled by well-meaning nincompoops.  I took one last look at her, at the dog curled on the rug in the hallway, at this solid and quiet part of a house I no longer wanted to leave for some reason, "I'm going to go outside and wait."

    The police officer had already arrived and was speaking to the woman, who was scowling.  When he saw me coming he walked over.  His face wore the bland mask of training.  A friend once told me about a sudden revelation regarding authority she had had during emergency heart surgery.  She had to remain awake during the procedure, and she realized that the only way she could get truthful, or any, answers to her questions was to ignore the blood pouring out of her chest cavity and the fact that she could die at any moment, and pretend like she was at a seminar, or a dinner party.  In other words, she had to fluff the surgeons' illusion of themselves as having no doubts or fears of their abilities.  This advice served me now as I tried to answer his questions as concisely and emotionless as possible.  Because now I wanted there to be less, not more.  Privacy for this house, not eyes upon it.

    He strode over to the back door, and the woman turned to me, wrinkled her nose, and whispered, "I don't like him.  He's too gruff, almost rude!"

    "Well, I think he's just making sure he has the facts."  She doesn't know.  She's my age, maybe older, but she doesn't know.  "Maybe we should head back down the driveway." 

    I picked up my bike and we walked down to her car.  She asked me where I was riding.  I told her about the lighthouse, and how I didn't actually make it all the way.  She said, matter-of-factly, "Oh, you could've gone around the barrier."

    "What?"  I stopped and stared at her, but she was looking elsewhere.  The ambulance was pulling up.  A very happy driver rolled down her window and said, "Were you the ones who called?"  We nodded. "The  officer called us off - we're going to go get lunch!"  Lunch!  My inner hobbit grew alarmed; I was clammy, I was freezing, and I was very hungry, with significant miles to go between here and where I lived.  But no one was going to remove two old ladies, one human and one canine, from their mutual home, and that was a relief in the soul.

"How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought." - Sylvia Plath

     The cop pulled up alongside me as I was riding away.  I slowed down and stopped.  "I wanted to let you know everything is ok.  It looks like there was a bit of an over-reaction."  I could feel my face flushing. "The husband, Bill, is hard of hearing and it seems he was sleeping on his good ear." A-ha!

"And I just want to apologize if I seemed short with the both of you - I needed to make sure I knew everything."  This touched me unexpectedly.  Could he have heard the woman whispering to me?  I thanked him, and apologized also, and thanked him again, and we went in our separate directions.

    I found myself riding hard; instinctively trying to get warm again.  But maybe also to flee something, or flee to something.  I wanted to be far away from the tenuous world of those three beings - so fragile, held to each other by something thinner than a molecule - and from my ridiculous worry, my desire to somehow keep them safe, preserved, and therefore not real.  The two mingle, the reality of growing old in this world and the desire to keep that world from encroaching, and they split apart again, and this is the current, the movement overlapping all other movements; and which is which depends on your stretch of the road.

Details were altered or omitted to protect the privacy of humans and canines.

The Joys of Muzak

   I first heard Pat Metheny at Lulu's house, at a high school upperclassmen party where I felt very uncomfortable, being younger (and geekier) than everyone there.  In a dark enclosed porch area off the living room where her family's stereo was kept, Lulu put the first side of the first disc of Travels on the turntable, and left to go hang out with her friends in the kitchen.  I stayed in that dark room by myself, for the rest of the evening, mesmerized.
   By now, I had heard some pretty weird and exciting music, courtesy of MTV and a few cool friends, but this was the first time I had ever heard jazz.  Not swing jazz, not showy dance tunes from the forties, but jazz.  Heart-wrenching, sing to the moon, offer-up-your-very-existence jazz.  This is where you might laugh, which is fine.  A lot of people consider Pat Metheny to be just a hair short of Muzak, jazz lite, crowd-pleasing crap.  I'll admit that I'm a little embarrassed every time I hear him on a jazz station.  But I'm also excited and happy at the same time, for very personal reasons.
   It makes perfect sense to me that my introduction to jazz wasn't from Miles, or Coltrane, or Mingus, or Billy Holiday, or from any of the cool artists, the artists who actually coined the term, "cool".  My portal into the real was opened by some geeky white guy playing a guitar through a synthesizer, on a recording of his tour through places like Sacramento, and Hartford, Connecticut.  I hadn't yet learned that the most special places are often offered up to us by the unlikeliest of characters, and therefore I hadn't yet learned to ignore what was right before me.  This might sound contradictory, but it isn't.  Sometimes you have to learn to be fooled in order to be "unfooled".  This hadn't happened to me yet, but as I listened to the music that night, I suspected that some other things had.
   The mastery, the centeredness, the sipping at euphoria slowly, savoring it like the rare and precious thing that it was - how could I have these things?  Where could I get them?  How could I get to the here and now, instead of being caught between a thousand chaotic worlds, where every morning I woke up feeling like I had fought a battle whose purpose was intentionally being withheld from me?  My deepest suspicion surfaced - that I was being slowly murdered.  That I possessed a powerful wellspring of energy that everyone else got to use but which I was not allowed to touch, and that once I was sucked dry, no one would give a shit.  And if I was lucky, I could dare to sip from my own fountain before that happened.  Let's just say the Fountain of Youth wasn't yet a metaphor, in my mind. 
   The word "travels" suddenly had more significance to me; yes, I could go!  I could put my feet on a road away from my psychotic mother, my spineless father, my wonderful friends who humored me but didn't understand, this insular, rigid town.  I could move and move and move - in fact, I have been moving all along!  Pat Metheny, my savior!  (And yes, I also confused the doorman with the door - I'm still pretty slow in that regard.)  I walked out of Lulu's house that night into a cool, clear starry world, with a secret discovery, and plans.  And we all know how plans turn out.

Abundance

  First of all, I am going to apologize right away for not having any photos.  Remember what I said about the Carol Burnett/catastrophe thing when I eat on a bike?  Well, it's even worse when I try to take photos on a bike.  I could either be describing the amazing photo I took just before the crash that broke my phone (and my head), or I could be describing all of those picture-perfect moments that eluded digital documenting while I stayed upright and in awe of my good fortune.  We'll go with the latter.
  It has been a good long while since I added anything here - I forgot what happens when there is actual bike riding going on!  As Henry Rollins said (or yelled, while flexing), "Don't talk about it!  Do it!"  Well, I've been doing it! (not it, but "it" - you know what I mean!)  When Spring finally hits in Buffalo, there is an abundance - an abundance of flowers in the many gardens, an abundance of bands all playing on the same night, an abundance of cookouts (food!), and this year, I believe, there's an Abundance of Kick-Ass Ladies on Bikes.  May is National Bike Month, so women, men, children, marmots, insect colonies - they're all out there on bikes, in force.  But I'm noticing (and I'm not just wearing rose-colored Oakleys) here in Buffalo that this year the women are on their bicycles and they're excited about it, big time.
  Last Sunday, May 11, was Cyclofemme, an international event honoring women and the joy of riding a bicycle.  Here in Buffalo, there were at least two "official" Cyclofemme rides held that day - one by GoBike Buffalo, and the other by The Bike Shop in East Aurora.  I use "official" in quotes, because anyone riding that day was celebrating the event as far as I'm concerned!  Having recently discovered The Bike Shop and its awesome all-women group rides, I joined their ride that day.  And I have to say, there were some eye-popping moments.  Besides experiencing a heart-stopping half- second of the dreaded wobble, I was thunderstruck at some point by the uniqueness of this ride.  The magnitude of this hit me when I fell back from the group for a while, to check on a few riders behind.  After I saw all was well behind me, I watched this pack of, well, cyclists up ahead, just flowing along a country road, and I thought, "They're all women!" (it takes me a while to catch on, sometimes) I realized at that moment that this was only the second ride I had ever been on that was all-female (the first one being the women's ride sponsored by The Bike Shop just the week before), and definitely the first ride where I was with fourteen other women!  I'm still feeling the impact of this on my brain, and the implications - that this rare, surreal event might not be so rare or unusual pretty soon.  And Hooray! for that.  A fellow rider that day, Alexis David, had some mind explosions herself, it seems.  Here is her account of the day.  I think everyone on that ride said the word, "amazing" at least once.
  Still flying high on the Cyclofemme ride, I rammed right on in to a back-to-back 5K race (Greek Fest 5K) and 62.5 mile cycling event (Hospice Gran Fondo).  Why did I think this was a good idea when I really wasn't in shape for it?  Oh yeah, souvlaki.  And wine.  The Hospice Gran Fondo is new this year, and went very smoothly, except for some cars getting stuck in muddy ruts in the field where we parked.  Since my car is made of styrofoam and Chinese newspapers, it wasn't heavy enough to get mired, and bounced jauntily along the hillocks into its parking spot.  "Jaunty" is not the word I would use to describe the bike ride part, however.  The course was beautiful; winding around wine country in Niagara County, and almost completely flat.  It was, by far, the easiest bicycle course I've ever been on.  Yet by mile 50, there was Excessive Whining.  My hip flexors and quads were alternating between uselessly leaden and blowtorch-braised, like filets. Luckily, I had a friend who was eager to join in the crying game, so we whinged and moaned our way ("Not another incline! Auuugghh!" Yes, you read that correctly - "incline".) the last 12 miles to Chateau Niagara Winery for lots of food and about a zillion different wines. Oh, sweetness!
  So the next day I was massaged with hot oil by lithe and attentive servants, who also fed me pizza when I snapped my fingers.....Nah, I went on a bike ride.

Interview With a Blogger #2

   This is getting pretty fun!  And I feel so "professional", even though "professional" is hardly a real condition in my little world of blogging about cycling and non-cycling topics.  This time around, we have Sam B., the London, ON co-founder/co-author of the blog, Fit, Feminist, and (almost) Fifty offering up her take on life as an active, thinking woman approaching fifty.  Her in-depth blog tackles topics centering around this, and so much more - guest writers appear regularly, covering anything from women in weight lifting to philosophical and feminist thought as they pertain to fitness and body image.  Sam also maintains an active facebook page, Fit is a Feminist Issue, where she posts so many incredible links I can't keep up with them all!  I urge anyone seeing this for the first time to check out both her blog and facebook page.  So....here we go!

Detournement: By your own description, your blog came to be when you and Tracy set a goal to be the fittest you've ever been by the time you turn 50.  As that date approaches for both of you this late summer and fall, how do you feel about your fitness?

Sam B: I’m a more well-rounded person that I was at other life stages. There were times when I was a faster runner and there were times when I was a faster cyclist but in those times that one thing was all that I did. I’m stronger now, more resilient. I’m loving CrossFit and my martial arts training in addition to cycling and running. I spent a season rowing and loved that too. I feel more ready to take on new things. It’s harder to measure fitness when you’re doing lots of things but I’m okay with that too.

D: Was fitness and health always a concern and/or part of your lifestyle, or did they develop into a routine as you got older?

 

SB: I regret very much that I didn’t discover athletic me until adulthood. Growing up in the 70s it seemed you could be smart or sporty but not both. I was an avid reader and I excelled in school and didn’t give sports a second thought. (See http://fitisafeministissue.com/2012/11/02/indoor-soccer-team-sports-and-childhood-regrets/.) Of course, come teen years and early adulthood there were many years of dieting and trying to be a certain size Once I gave that up I decided that if I was going to be bigger than average I was going to be fitter and stronger too. I started running in the years around my 40^th birthday, cycling shortly after that and so it began!

D: Were you blogging before you started this particular blog? 

 

SB: Yes, I blog with The Feminist Philosophers Blog, http://feministphilosophers.wordpress.com/ and other places too. A complete list is at http://samjaneb.tumblr.com/blogs.

Here’s a sample blog post not about fitness! http://peasoup.typepad.com/peasoup/2009/08/performance-evaluations-in-an-entrepreneurial-work-culture.html

D: What led you to start receiving contributions from other writers to your blog, and was it your intention from the beginning?

 

SB: Well, at first we thought it would just be us but then friends started suggesting ideas, we’ve developed a strong community of readers on which we can draw, and it turns out we’re not alone. There are lots of women who identify as feminists thinking about fitness and how it fits into their lives. We typically know the people who guest post for us—either through the academic world or through the blog—and we have one or two guest posts a week. I love our guest posts!

D: Do you think you are reaching your intended target audience?  Is there a target audience?

 

SB: Yes and no. We reach lots of academics and fitness oriented people but I’d like to reach more into the community of women who aren’t quite there yet either in terms of feminism or fitness and help them find a way in.

D: Do you feel your pursuit of and education about fitness has changed your feminist perspective at all?  How about your philosophical perspective(s)?

 

SB: Well, as we say on the blog “But we’re also feminists and philosophers, so we want to ask: what does it mean to be fit? What are appropriate measures for the goal? And, from a feminist perspective, in what way(s) does women’s quest for fitness and health contribute to empowerment and/or oppression.”

Sometimes it might mean we over think things! But hey, that’s what we do.

D: Cycling, of course, is what drew me to your blog, but you engage in so many more physical activities.  Could you list a few (or all!) and explain their importance for you?

 

SB: In terms of cycling, I’m a road cyclist first and foremost though I also own a cyclocross bike, a mountain bike, a track bike, and a fixed gear commuting bike.

But I also love Aikido, which is a very beautiful martial art. I’m training for my 4^th kyu test (so I’m a middle rank). I love it for self defense reasons. I love the community. And there is something very empowering about spending an evening throwing large men around in the dojo. I say that in a joking tone but I’m serious about the empowerment part. I’m more comfortable with my size and strength and how my body moves. The practise of Aikido has changed the way I am in the world both on and off the mat.

I started CrossFit a couple of years ago in the cycling off season and I love the intensity. I’ve always lifted weights but it can be lonely as a woman in the weight room. At CrossFit there are lots of women and many of them are stronger than me. I love that. I also like the variety. There’s something new almost everyday and I really think there is something right about the functional fitness idea.

Oh, and I play soccer recreationally. But that’s mostly for fun, with friends from my neighbourhood.

D: Which type of exercise/training is your favorite, and would you consider it to be the most fun out of all of them?

 

SB: Cycling! There is something about going fast on my bike that makes me smile. I feel like a little kid again. Whee!

D: Have you faced any serious challenges and/or setbacks on the way to your goal, and if so, how did you overcome them/it?

 

SB: Oh, stress fractures a few years back. Too much running, too soon. And the hard part was that they took me out of all physical activity for 6-8 weeks each time. The downside of seeing a sports medicine doctor is that they know too much about what we do. I asked if I could ride my bike and he said, “Yes, but no big gears, no hills, no sprinting, and if you can’t do that stay off the bike.”

D: What advice would you give to another woman having a similar setback?

 

SB: Build slowly!

D: What fitness products/gear have you discovered you really like to use, and what ones have you gotten rid of, if any?

 

SB: I’m a big fan of heart rate monitors and bike computers. Love my Garmin.

D: This might come off as silly, but do you think there is a different perception of exercise/fitness in Canada than in the US, or do you think both countries are roughly the same in this regard?

 

SB: First, Americans tend to be either into things in an over the top way or not into them at all. I notice that the US is the land of the super fit and the land of people who don’t exercise at all. It’s very much a “go big or stay home” kind of place. There’s less room for the person who wants a little bit of everyday exercise.

 

Second, the biggest difference isn’t between Canada and the US but between Canada and the US, on the one hand, and Australia and NZ, on the other. The latter have a much more participatory sports culture. There are more Masters athletes and more club level racing. Racing isn’t just for the elite cyclists there.

 

D: I was wondering if you could elaborate on the last one, which I found really intriguing and others might, too.  Have you had first-hand experience of the sports culture in that part of Oceania?  Is it a part of your research interest?  Do you think feminism plays a role in NZ and AUS' more inclusionary behavior in sports?

 

SB: I've done visiting academic gigs in Australia and New Zealand. I was a Visiting Faculty Fellow, Social and Political Theory, Research School of Social Sciences, The Australian National University, September-December 2011, 2007-2008. From Sept to Dec 2011 I was a Visiting Faculty Fellow in Philosophy, RSSS, The Australian National University in Canberra, Australia. From Jan-June 2012 I was a Taylor Fellow in Philosophy and a Visiting Fellow in Bioethics at the University of Otago in Dunedin, New Zealand.

In Australia, at ANU, I met up with the Vikings, http://vikingscycling.org.au/home/ and did their Novice program and then later rode with their women's group, the Valkyries. I raced time trials, road races, and crits and generally had a blast. The racing culture there was very inclusive. For example, for crits they had Women's A, B, and C grades whereas here we often just have Men's A and B and women race with Men's B. There were lots of Masters women and young women too.

In Dunedin, New Zealand (land of crazy big hills!) I hooked up with Women on Wheels, a track cycling group, http://www.cyclingotago.co.nz/customdata/index.cfm?fuseaction=display_text_listing&CategoryID=12690&itemLayout=2&headerselector=3&OrgID=6359. Again, there were loads of opportunities to race and to train that we just don't have here.

Why the difference? The culture generally in both Australia and New Zealand seemed much more active, sporty, and outdoorsy. Racing seemed like a normal part of life, no matter what your sport. 

 

 

Aaaaand.....I don't really know how to end these things.  Mainly because I don't really want them to end!  I feel the discussion could keep going and going and going....Well, that is sort of the intention, isn't it?  

Please feel free to check out any and all links that Sam provided in this interview, and let's keep going!  

An Interview!

   Several weeks have gone by since the last post; weeks full of grown-up responsibilities (boo), a stress meltdown here and there (boo), bike rides in non-arctic temperatures (yay!), and a blogger interview swap between the author of Life on Two Wheels, Josie Smith, and myself (big yay!).  My goal was/is to find out more about the women out there who are riding bikes and blogging about it, and sharing this info with the five people who read my own blog (shhhhh!).
   Josie Smith entered the world of bicycling with heart and soul in 2012, and being a pretty darn good writer, has been blogging extensively about her experiences, and the experiences of others via interviews.  Besides Life on Two Wheels, she also contributes bicycle-related articles to Imagine Northeast Iowa, and to the blog page of her fabulous local bike shop, Decorah Bicycles, as well as a number of other blogs.  Can you say, "productive"?  She also answered all of my questions in record time, so without any more blathering on my part, here is her awesome interview:

What led up to 2012 being the Year of the Bicycle for you?
I woke up on a Monday morning and felt sick of myself and the fact I drove to work and it was a measly 3 or so blocks away. I didn't realize I had exercise induced asthma, so when allergy season started to get bad I'd find it difficult to walk to work without an attack-hence the driving. I was also in an unhealthy marriage that was going nowhere. I was off of antidepressants and feeling stuck, lethargic, and trapped; I wanted to reclaim myself and apparently a bike could do that.
I text a co-worker/friend and informed him of my decision and that I requested his assistance since he was a. a year-round commuter, b. a bike lover, and c. the one who had pushed me for 2 1/2 years to get a damn bike. I told him I would have a bike by the end of the week, to which he played reverse psychology on me and said "I bet not." Well, we stopped at Decorah Bicycles and found a used bike I felt comfortable on-long story short I found I really enjoyed biking.
I'm also allergic to exercise...so I hate working out and will not go to gyms. For me a fitness activity must not, under any circumstances, feel like "work" and that isn't to say it doesn't require effort-but it must be enjoyable when effort is given.
I started riding the paved trail that is built in Decorah-Trout Run Trail and found myself enjoying this special "me" time. This morning bike ride also proved to be very therapeutic for me. I was under an enormous amount of stress over my life and the things going on in it. My marriage was straining me in multiple ways and I was having a lot of scattered energy. Biking honestly helped keep me off of anti-depressants and it also helped me come to terms on my own time, that I had to make life changes in order to be happy: divorce was something I had to consider. I biked my way through divorce, it helped me keep my sanity, and it also helped me find love too.

What inspired you to start blogging?
I've always been a talker and apparently a good writer...I actually had a blog I kept awhile back that was based on my cat(s). It was also an outlet for my depression and eventual divorce from my husband. I actually find that I write a lot better than I speak, most times because I actually have time to form the sentences that I want to use. I guess you can consider it the sort of "stage fright" and I'm also nervous over speaking up/out or expressing my opinion due to low self-confidence. However, when I write I don't care. Writing for me is a very freeing sort of communication.

What inspired you to start an interview series on your blog?

Originally my blog was to be a personal blog for my bike riding experiences that I felt I couldn't write up something "blog worthy" for another site (Imagine Northeast Iowa...pen name-JosieLeah)
I for one, get intrigued about the lives of others; especially when pertaining to bikes/bike riding/adventures. I was told by a friend last year that I had inspired her to start commuting in the winter. She figured if I could do it-she could too! This was all because I talked about it, Facebooked, and blogged; I guess I figured if I could inspire someone others could too.
I'm not talented or well-versed in all aspects of the bike riding world. I would say I'm commuter first, paved riding second, snow biking third, and mountain biking fourth. I'm still getting my feet wet! I wanted to interview all sorts of different women (and men) who are well-versed in many different areas: professional, road, mountain, and commuter...to give something that everyone can relate to and find inspirational.

As a female bike rider, what would you like to see happen?

I would like to see more women to start saying "Let's do this!" or "I can do this!" instead of saying "can't" because that word just stops you from even attempting. I kept myself off a bike for more years than necessary and it was all do to the "I can't" and I feel frustrated by that. Commuting is sometimes scary, but so is walking in the street. I've found commuting during the winter months more comfortable than driving!
Riding fatbikes up in the pine trails of a local park was very liberating and not scary at all; mountain biking still makes me nervous, but I sure as heck want to give it a winning try. I realize I may never be an adept mountain biker but if I can manage on some of the less technical trails then I'll be sure to have fun out there. So often we are our own setbacks and this is something that I worry is more predominant in females than males-biking in any shape or form can be a very liberating and freeing experience and we shouldn't tell ourselves that we can't do it. I think of more of us develop a can-do attitude the more bike companies and bike shops will take notice-which means more female based product as well as people taking the time to find out what we really want in terms of color and gear. (If persons chose to wear "gear")

What kind of riding do you like the most, and is this the type you engage in most often?

Hmmm...good question! The riding I do typically the most is commute to work. The second most common riding I do is paved trail riding (which I hope to incorporate more paved surfaces in the future, however I would like to do that with a riding partner vs. go alone. I will be honest, the idea of road riding by myself doesn't sit well.) I really enjoy the Trout Run Trail and think it's a great addition to the community of Decorah. I like how I feel on the paved surface when I go down the switchbacks, it feels really awesome! The curve and swerve into the corners are intoxicating to me. I'm finding that I'm enjoying hill climbs a bit more with being clipped in; strong and powerful come into my mind.
I really loved fatbiking in the snow this year and feel strongly it's something everyone (and woman) should try! Fatbikes really are fun and they give you more ability to get from point a. to point b. in the snow. I feel that if people try fatbikes out, they will be more liable to try mountain biking (you can mountain bike on a fatbike if you are really nervous about roots and things.)
I have this deep-seeded desire to be a better mountain biker because I really do love being outside in the wooded areas. It reminds me of my dad's home and I always enjoyed walking in the woods. Plus, few women in Decorah actually mountain bike so I figure if I got out there, maybe some of them would want to give it a go.

It appears you name your bikes. What are the stories behind the names?
Sir Richard the Ironhearted is my trusty first and undoubtedly most homely bike I own. He is not ridden much anymore (but will be utilized for getting groceries this year) He was the one who "started it all" and actually brought Travis and I together. He's very heavy and a very bland colored bike, but the first bike I bought myself. Richard is named after my uncle Rick whom I love dearly, and who also names his cars fun and clever names.
Captn' Johnny is my Specialized Vita Elite, the second bike I bought myself and my regular paved trail riding bike. I realized soon after I started riding regularly that I wanted to go fast! Johnny has been upgraded a bit this year so he's a bit closer to a road bike than not-and I'm also riding clipless on him as well. In the winter he's set up on my stationary trainer, thinking of those warmer spring days while we pedal nowhere. I really love the Pirates of the Caribbean movies....(hinthint)
Nikita is my first custom built Surly Karate Monkey, otherwise known as my bicycle engagement ring (per Travis). She's swanky, decked in some rare Chris King bling, and has parts that probably do not really *need* to be on her. She's mainly used for gravel and paved trail riding (road).
Athena you could say, is Nikita's little sister. She's my second custom Surly Karate Monkey that has some hand-me-downs from one of Travis' bikes. She's my regular go-to commuter bike as well as for paved riding. She's my first "sexy" bike and I felt her name should signify that...plus I was watching the original La Femme Nikita series on dvd....heh heh.

Bruno is my custom built/panted Surly Krampus whom is my mountain bike used ironically for mountain biking :) (The Karate Monkey bikes are also mountain bikes, but not used for that purpose) he's big, bad, and totally rad! I have to remind everyone that when one talks of fatbikes, the Krampus is not a fatbike and will not act as one. I named him Bruno after my dad's dog that was around when I was little...I figured he should have a strong, protective name.

Freya is my future mountain bike, a Trek Cali Carbon SLX-she's still a work in progress and will be ridden once I'm a bit more seasoned on some of the trails. I'll be honest, her name might change once she's more complete and I ride her.

Lastly is Bettie Page, a Specialized Ruby Elite Compact EQ.....a mouthful. She is my first official and true road bike. She has a doozy of a neat chain, is super sexy, and is totally "me" when it comes to color. (I like black and blue bikes, apparently). She's also a work in progress, but will be done by the time I'm to ride my first century ride this year. I feel it's a classy, sharp, and beautiful bike.

I have a lot of bikes but you can blame Travis for that. The one I would say I had the most desire for would be Athena, a more nimble commuter bike that was more versatile than Richard. Travis feels because I've grown and love bike riding so much, he wants me to have similar experiences as he did with different kinds of bikes. If I end up disliking something or it's never used then it will likely find a new home. I guess it's all part of the experience, eh? I can't lie, when he showed me the road bike he had gotten in for the store, I will admit that I did really like the look of it. However, that bike was a size too large for me so I tried to tell myself "I don't need this" however, I ended up getting the opportunity regardless.

Do you look at your life any differently now that you ride, than you did before you became interested in cycling?
My life is pretty different now, for sure! I am not sure I can say exactly how and why but I think it's because I proved myself wrong....that I could ride a bicycle. I am not a "super-pro" by any means, but I do believe I ride a bike fairly well. Being organically interested in bikes (not just because I'm in a relationship with an owner of a bike shop) allows me to relate to or meet new people with similar interests. I find bicycles fascinating and even more-how they have changed or provided fulfillment in the lives of others. The bicycle gave me confidence that I lacked, it opened many doors to me, and it also has provided me with opportunities to bring more purpose into my life.

Had you ever exercised or thought about fitness and/or health before you rode a bike?

Off and on I experimented with fitness type things. I mostly did my own exercise routine of crunches, push-ups, and squats. I hate running (and so do my legs/hips) so that was short-lived. I do not mind hiking but it ends up being me out and taking pictures more than anything. I'm not a fan of gyms or group fitness. The same year I bought my bike I had originally started doing a kickboxing routine on the Wii, however I wanted to incorporate something more into my life. Once I got the bike I actually stopped with the kickboxing, biking was much more entertaining to me than being inside.

Do you think about fitness and/or health now that you do ride a bike?
I have to be careful with being too obsessive about how fast I go or how long I can ride my bike. I had an eating disorder throughout the latter part of my high school years and a few years after graduation. The more stressed I am the more I start obsessing over something I can "control" and at times struggle with the concept of "earning" food. Overall I'm alright and manage to cope and work through this without too many emotional moments, Travis has been very good at being the level head and helping to keep my obsessive tendencies in check.
I focus on how good it makes me feel on a mental and emotional level, sure I might reward myself with a treat if I work extra hard, but I do not deprive myself. I ride my bike because I like how it makes me feel and because I enjoy it, the fitness aspect is second.

Do you feel you would have gotten as far as you have without the support of a local bike shop?
Probably not. Honestly, my relationship with Travis really did bring forth more opportunities for me than what I originally thought I'd experience. Before Travis and I officially entered into the relationship I was in the process of buying Capn' Johnny. I imagine what would've happened in the future had Travis and I not actually started seeing each other I would've bought a Surly Karate Monkey. I say this because I have a friend of mine who likes to go gravel riding, plus it is a mountain bike and we may have gone on some of the more "beginner" trails in town together (which there is a plan for that!) I'm sure I would've come to the conclusion I needed a slightly more versatile bike so I could do other kinds of riding with my friends. Capn' Johnny would not have been the last bike I would've purchased, no way. Would I have still commuted in the winter months? Yup. Perhaps not as well as I did with Travis' assistance with providing gear, tires, etc. however I still would've done it.

It's hard to say, but I'll say I would've been more set-back financially and probably would not have gotten as far as I have. However, I feel I would be enjoying my bike riding regardless, it's humbling and I greatly appreciate the opportunities and experiences I get to have. Equipment really can set you back-had I been braver and bought a 700 dollar bike my first time vs. spending around 150 on a used bike-I could've accelerated my growth.

Do you feel your town/city/State of Iowa supports bicycling, and is there room for improvements?

From the outside looking in, you would think Decorah would be very supportive of the internal bicycle community, however I feel it isn't the case. We have a fantastic paved trail that draws in a lot of tourism, and last year introduced bicycle stalls which are installed in a car-parking spot during the nicer months. This year one of the stalls which was put on Water St. was moved to a parking lot, which to me says a lot about our "bike friendliness" for local people.

Apparently a business complained of the bike stall taking up precious downtown parking (which being that bicycles are vehicles, we should have ample parking as well). With the stall moved to a parking lot, it's very much showing the "out of sight, out of mind" concept. A person I know posted pictures on Facebook-bikes parked all along the front of businesses on that block and no bikes at all in the bike stall.
Bike racks in the winter are barely cleared, I think most of the ones cleared were by people who used them-not the city who would be responsible for clearing them. The bike racks where I work were piled with snow-there isn't much acknowledgement of the year-round commuter nor enough who actually commute year-round for the city to care. (sad)

We had sharrows painted on our roads, but they are becoming worn away and barely noticeable. For sure they provided people with stuff to talk about, some nay-saying them and others approving. People do not seem to know what they mean! Also there is one painted bike lane on a street I do not even like driving on. I would not want to ride my bike on that street, especially when busy, because I do not feel confident people would actually pay enough attention to me. If it were a protected lane or painted with a bright color-then perhaps I'd change my tune.

We have a long ways to go before our local bike riders are accepted as much as tourists-I feel the latter hold more precedence because the city feels they bring in more money. 

 

 

Wasn't that great?  Be sure to check out Life on Two Wheels for Josie's own interview series. Ciao bella!

An Unnecessary Freezing of Water

  (I started this on Saturday, became overwhelmed with snow ennui, and had to go lay on the fainting couch.)
  One long winter years ago, I actually started to suffer from seasonal depression.  I was also dating a lunatic, so that might have had something to do with it as well.  Anyway, my solution was to try tanning, to get those life-affirming yet deadly UV rays - and it worked!  I felt a lot better, and I didn't even care that I looked ridiculous.  As I sit here watching out the window at the sleet falling, the sleet that will eventually turn into five inches of snow by morning, I'm considering tanning once again.  Fortunately or unfortunately, this time around the thought of middle-aged me knowingly entering a tanning salon is seriously holding me back.  So I'm wondering, will using a tanning product fool me into cheerfulness?  I was thinking of going with Kardashian Glow.

It's supposed to give me, "that glowy tan feeling", in the erudite words of Khloé.  It's supposed to give me big boobs, too.  I don't know...after months of brittle cold and feeling like I want to eat pounds of raw meat for the vitamin C, I'm afraid this is the only "Kardashian" you're going to meet if you run into me at this point.

(Her boobs are still bigger than mine.)

   The hammer blow of this recent weather development is particularly heavy because, 

1. All predictions up until 24 hours ago were pointing to It's Finally Going to Get Warm! and, 

2. My Ride for Roswell buddies and I were going to go on our first group ride since October.

Sunday, March 30

Well, I gave up yesterday, ate a lot of pasta, and hid under the covers.  This morning we woke up to this:

 

Before admitting defeat, however, I went for a ride yesterday before the sleet/snow started.  Just by myself - the group ride will have to wait, again.
   I decided to go over to Canada (everything's better in Canada) and ride on the Friendship Trail (see? they name trails after friends!), and see what's up.  Here is the start, below the Peace Bridge (I'm pretty sure Canada named that, too).

 

The trail was pretty clear for the next 2 miles, with some squishy spots, and then I left the trail to ride along Lakeshore Rd., which is what Canada builds along its lakefront instead of a thruway.

 

To be fair, there's a Lakeshore Rd. on the American side, too - it's just 20 miles south of Buffalo, in a place that isn't Buffalo.  

   This part of Lakeshore Rd. on the Canadian side, going SW, ends at the next trail head for the Friendship Trail near Waverly Beach.  Here is where the trail became impossible to ride on.

Under several feet of snow is another foot of sand that had blown in before the beach froze.

(frozen beach)

After some "portage", and with floppy, wet toe covers that looked like elf shoes, I chose to ride on an access road called Edgemere Rd., which runs parallel to the trail.  Every once in a while I'd pop onto the trail to see if it was clear,

and, nope.  Silly me had taken the studded tires off my bike already, it being March and all, otherwise this ice landscape would have been ride-able.  

Edgemere Rd. ended at someone's property, so clearly it was time to take a picture of my bike.

 This is the mountain bike for "getting around unpleasant obstacles", rather than for actual mountain biking.  Which is a good thing, because the bolt holding the rear derailleur to the frame disintegrated a month after I bought the bike (no, there was no salt on the roads at this point).  Ah, Specialized, why did I think you were a good idea?

   Heading back the way I came, I decided to take a picture of the "thing".

This has been under construction for months, and I never knew what it was until yesterday, when I interrupted a conversation between two men standing in front of it to inquire.  The fellow who looked the most knowledgeable began with, "Well, now, it's got three storeys, see...."  What I took away from this speech was, this was a house, and the owners were actually living in it already, in the back of the first floor, and there was a swimming pool on the second floor.  The third floor, with large glass doors "so they can go look at the lake after they get out of the pool", is apparently just for after-pool lake viewing.  Oh, and "for watching the dogs in the yard", which I realized three hours later was probably humor (or maybe it all was).  So now I know, and it's even weirder than I thought.  It still reminds me of making Star Wars stuff out of shoe boxes when I was a kid.

   More portaging, and more soggy elf shoes, and then it was over the bridge back home (I forgot to mention that I was scolded at the Canadian crossing for doing exactly as I had been instructed the last time I crossed, which seems to be a fun activity for Canadian customs agents, and is a regular occurrence - I guess not everything is better in Canada).

These instructions appeared last fall on both ends of the bridge.  No one walks their bike over, ever.

                    Just about the halfway point - there's a lot more "hill" on the way back over.

 The scary Niagara River (which wasn't too frightening this time), and good ol' Buffalo.

And then the "cage" at the end you get to stand in until someone lets you out.  So very welcoming we are, aren't we?

We get a bike rack, at least.

 After making sure he could see my ears really well, the American customs agent sent me on my way.  I don't want to know.

So this has been circulating the interwebs for a couple of weeks.  It's British, and it's cool.  It's also applicable to us here in the US, just without the words, "mum", or "velocipede".

Here is also something those fabulous Canadians are doing in Vancouver.  It would never fly here in Don't Tax Me Tea Party Land, but it's always nice to dream.

Also, to top off this ok blog post - I was reading a Team Estrogen forum thread about the ubiquitous topic of My Ass Hurts, and found out about this really interesting cycling apparel company in the Southwest.  They have a line of wool clothing, even shorts!  And the designs are classic.  Let your randonneuring friends know about this one.