The Year of the Snake

I honestly don't know where this summer has gone. Some days it still feels like I'm sitting in the courtroom awaiting the trial and other times it's such a distant memory it doesn't even feel real. I kept meaning to blog sooner but one thing or another happened and then I kept pushing it back. And then I wasn't in an upbeat mood and didn't want to sound too much like a Debbie Downer and I probably would have push it back more but I'm trying to get at least one done a month so - just in the nick of time! 

The trial was interesting because it wasn't really. The morning of, as we were sitting in the courtroom the guy plead guilty. Just like that the whole thing was over. I was grateful for it and yet part of me wanted everyone to know exactly how much pain this guy had caused. I'm not sure I would have handled testifying though, but one of the bonus of having parents who are lawyers was that they were able to drill question after question and prepare me for the defense. I'm not sure I would have wanted to relive the whole ordeal though because at this point I only have flashbacks of moments or events but I've never actually had to relive the whole thing at this point which is probably a good thing.
Because he plead out I actually got to share what I thought would be a fair punishment. He had other charges against him so on top of this he will see up to 2 1/2 years in the state pen and he had to write a letter of apology to me. I know what that letter is probably going to say (and if you really want to know you can ask my parents)- it's not really going to be a heartfelt apology, but it actually had to go through the probation officer so I know it won't be a bashing filled rant either. I didn't so much want the apology as I wanted physical proof that there was a reason I went crazy, that it wasn't just all in my head. I mean maybe it was but it feels better knowing that there is actually a solid piece of paper saying it was his fault. But like I said I haven't been in a good enough place to read it yet and I'm not sure I will ever be - but stay tuned. 
An ironic twist on the day was that my road bike finally arrived at Molly's house. See I had it since May but left it at Landry's Bike Shop to have them ship it out to me. . .well it kind of got lost in the shuffle for a while- but I was actually grateful that it didn't come sooner. I'm not sure I would have been ready to ride it before court. In my mind I some how came up with the thought that if I was riding again and got hit the defense would be able to pin it on me that getting hit twice would make both of them my fault-it would be my riding capabilities and not the crack head who actually didn't see me and crossed in front of me. So I didn't ride until I got home from MA. But let me tell you I definitely missed it- I mean mountain biking is all fun and good but you can't go bombing down a hill at 55 mph and not die. That's not to say that I don't read every license that drives by and I still don't wear a heart monitor for that very reason. Because well it would kill my average HR every time a car drives by and causes it to spike up. 

I also don't wear a heart rate monitor because I don't want to know what my heart is doing when I see a snake because I know very well it's abnormally high. See I have this ridiculously abnormal fear of these creatures, I mean pure ridiculousness. To give you an example in high school my mom had to go through my biology book and cover every picture of a snake with a post-it to prevent an ill fated event of flipping to a page with a picture of one on it to disrupt the class. I'm not sure if I was born with this innate fear or if it stems from finding fake snakes in my bed and getting them thrown on me when I was playing in the yard. (In their defense I did use to make Molly cry and bite Frank hard enough to draw blood, so I guess you could say I had it coming.) Regardless of how it got there- it's there. I can remember every snake I've ever had to encounter- getting drug through Reptile Gardens when I was 5, a blue razor outside of the case when I was 9, riding my bike out by 7-11 when I was 16, hitting one with my car when I was 18. . .I mean it goes on and on. Last summer I saw a total of 4 snakes while I was riding my bike and fortunately didn't run over one. That's why in comparison this summer has been out of control. I've already ran over 3 and I've seen 27. That number is including dead snakes but only the ones that remain intact enough to realize what it is. I almost expect one now when I'm riding and it helps to occupy my mind looking for snakes rather than focusing on the cars whizzing by.

He Who Shall Not Be Named

Part of me knows that the increase of snakes out is due in part to global warming, but DF must have gotten to me because I started taking them as a sign and decided to look and see what the meaning behind a snake is. My only real knowing of what a snake stands for comes from Adam and Eve and Harry Potter- not exactly the most factual based.

I started doing some digging- well actually just ran into a book at Border's but still. I took a picture with my phone (because I finally upgraded my phone to be able to do that) so I wouldn't forget. So even though the snake is associated with being the evil vector that women use to tempt man and cause him to stray from the straight and narrow path of ascetic virtue- it actually has a completely different meaning too. 

The serpent is also a symbol of regeneration, reincarnation, and of healing powers- who knew right? The physical characteristics of the creature that give it this reputation include shedding its skin and continuing to pulsate after it appears to be dead- it's also a long lived animal, so I've got that going for me. It's also seen twinning up the healing rod of Asclepius and of Hygeia, the Greek Goddess of health. Also in the Caduceus, which is almost universally accepted as the primary symbol of the healing arts, has two serpents coiling up it. After reading  that I've found a new respect for the slimy creature (I hear that they're not actually slimy but never actually touched one to see for myself). I told this to Molly about how the snake is maybe actually a sign of new life and she replies "So you're running over your new life with your bike?" Well that's one take on it I guess.

I'm not sure exactly what it all means, if anything, but I'm all for taking it as a sign of new life. I mean it can't hurt, and hopefully running them over with my bike doesn't squander my new life too much, but I suppose only time will tell.

I wrapped up my racing season with a nice slog through the mud. Don't worry you didn't miss much as the extent of my racing season contained Tri for the Cure and the Muddy Buddy. Tri for the Cure went well, it's really more of an event than a race as I finished 5th in my age group but still managed to run 9 min/miles- if that gives you an idea of the compeition. I took off time from my bike from when I did it 2 years ago and finished 47th out of 2400 on the bike so I'm hoping to come back next year and win when my leg lets me run 6min/miles and I don't have a panic attack in the water. 

Almost to the finish line!

The Muddy Buddy was awesome! Molly and Barb did it as a team and dressed up as a "Mudder/Daughter" team- it was pretty cute. Barb put flowers on her helmet and wore a skirt and apron and accessorized with a rolling pin. Wayne and I were a team, and while we didn't win, we almost took the costume contest with Wayne dressing up as Warren Jeffs and I was a child bride. Running in a dress, not fun. Beating boys in a dress, fun. 
That's been the extent of my life so far- I hope that this isn't too Debbie Downer the trial definitely wore on me and I'm not quiet at the closure point I was hoping that I would be after it but I'm getting there- or at least my shrink says so! 

Disclaimer: Molly is not as horrible as this blog makes her out to be.

When Life Hands You Lemons You Say "No I Will Not Jump the Fence, and Go Ride Your Bike in the Grand Canyon"

Okay, so I definitely realize that it's been a while. While I would like you tell you that my life has been so titillating that I couldn't even take a minute out that would be a complete lie. I basically just stopped June, it's almost like it didn't exist, because well I felt like I didn't exist. Honestly I didn't do anything. I rode my bike a total of 5 times, 5 times in 30 days- I used to ride 6 out of 7 days. That's quiet a sorry statistic. But I also felt like I needed it. When I had about 3 weeks left of college my Russian tutor and I were practicing some vocab and he asked me the next time I was going to relax, and my answer was "в месяц" which means "in one month" which he laughed at. It's so true at college you literally don't stop, there is always more you can be doing, if you do take a break it's almost like you feel guilty for not doing something. I feel like it almost took me a whole month to decompress, to get back to sleeping a solid 8+ hours a night, to start not feeling guilty about reading a good book, to actually sit and watch TV without trying to multitask with other reading or problem sets. It felt good to put the pause button on. But that wasn't exactly my intention when I left college. Ha

I actually took a "research job" in Arizona. I say research job loosely at this point. I was told that there would be plenty of mountain bike trails around the place I would be staying. Little did I know that those trails weren't actually maintained by local bike shops or the IMBA (international mountain bike association) no no no, these trails were maintained by 12 year old drug runners. And well most of the trails were actually out of commission due to the fires that are thought to be started by said drug runners. They also failed to mention that I would be living in Mexico, without much chance of returning without jumping the fence (don't worry, they knew a great place to do it). So realizing that the headlines would not be kind to a naive American student who disappears or gets shot and not wanting to create an international crisis because let's be serious Hilary has enough on her hands these days. I got the heck out of dodge! 

When life hands you lemons. . .

I began moseying my way back home. I stopped at the Grand Canyon and found out it was cheaper to ride my bike in than drive in. So I did, I figured I'd save money and be environmentally friendly while getting a workout in (the hill up seemed a lot shorter when I was driving it). Plus the money I saved I used to buy my Godfather a mug at the gift shop (maybe now he'll start reading this *cough *cough). I went to the first two lookouts and then realized the next 17 would probably look the same so I rode back out and loaded up my bike and drove out. My original plan was to go to Crested Butte for some serious mountain biking the next day but I didn't quiet make it that far and instead stopped at my family's summer cabin and rode around there. It's a lot different riding at 12,000 feet elevation than at sea level (i.e. sucking major air). I was back in Boulder a lot sooner than I thought I would be, but I didn't hate it. 

When I was there looking for a job and catching up on the Housewives of New Jersey, Molly found out about a ride in Colorado Springs called the Starlight-Spectacular. I was planning on heading home that day, but who can pass up a 22 mile ride at midnight in Garden of the Gods? Not this kid. Especially since it was a contest to see who could come up with the best costume and lighting scheme. We thought were were on top of our game by coming up with a pirate theme. We thought it was awesome until we got there and realized these people take their costumes very very seriously. We know next year to step up or game.

In honor of Johnny Depp

The ride was amazing though. I was able to pawn a road bike off of Wayne's girlfriend, which helped immensely to shed 20 pounds from my riding my MTB bike. And since it wasn't a race Wayne and I did an extra lap in the Garden before we headed out to the rest of the ride through Colorado Springs and Old Colorado City. It was a loop where we went back through the Garden and then finished on the other side of the visitors center. My front light went out with about 4 miles left and I was left with only the blinking light on my back. By this time most of the group was spread out and I was left pretty much alone in the Darkness. Without being able to see you really have to trust the feel of the road and being connected to the bike. It was amazing to look up at these huge rock formations that were illuminated by only the moonlight. It definitely felt extra-terrestrial, which you know I've had so many of those experience to compare it to. 


 I drove home so that the next weekend I could do the Big Mick. I rode my bike once that week at a trail in the Black Hills, which let me tell you definitely is nothing like the East Coast. The trails at home are much longer and usually a giant loop, where on the EC most of the space is condensed and you still have 9 miles of trail but only on 2 square miles. It was cool as the landscaped changed so much going from pine trees and descending down into a field of aspens, going through multiple streams and going up steep grades only to go screaming down on the other side (the screaming reference isn't meant that I screamed, but someone could). So I did that, and then the Big Mick came. This is actually my 3rd year doing it but only my 2nd year where I've actually officially been in it under my name. It was actually strange because the day before I was driving Barb and her brother up to Lead since they were doing the 100 mile and we stopped on the way at a little restaurant basically in the middle of nowhere because Barb's brother had left his jacket there the night before. We walked in and let me tell you this guy can make conversation with anyone, so while I'm in the bathroom he strikes it up with these 2 guys. These two guys actually turn out to be looking for a ride to Lead, but they have two bikes they need to take up. Well we do have a bike rack and we are going to Lead. It turns out that these guys were trying to ride the whole trail from Lead to Edgemont and back up to Lead, in one day- that's more than 200 miles. Well they called it quits at this bar and weren't sure how they would get back up there. So we loaded them up and continued our adventure. It actually turns out one of the guys used to live in Worcester, which just shows how much of a small world it is. 

The group after the ride- everyone made it!

The Big Mick was good, one of Barb's friends decided to do it on a whim so I rode with her for a while starting out. I know her not that well but well enough, so when I saw my first snake, not wanting her to think I was crazy because if anything it was only a little bigger than a worm, I couldn't freak out. So I remained as cool as a cucumber on the outside while my stomach did flips on the inside. I got past that one only to have another one a mile later go right under my tires. Oh I squirmed but once again did not want the crazy card to get pulled so like England did, I kept calmed and carried on. It worked out because I couldn't internalize running over a snake like I usually do and really freak out. But it also helps being on a MTB because you don't quiet feel the thump thump as on a road bike. What's really ironic about that is on the way up I was telling them that in the 2 years I have ridden it, I've never seen a snake. I tell ya God has quiet the sense of humor, and I will be sharing some words with him, eventually. The rest of the ride went off without a hitch, probably because of all the licorice I loaded up on and took to go in one of the rest stops (Thanks Denise!)

Mile 16- the best rest stop!

After the big Mick I started running more, as I have signed up for a marathon in October, I could probably start another blog about how that training is not going. But after not running for so long, and being able to go so fast on the bike (my top speed is 52.8mph, I'm still looking for a hill to break that speed) running seems soooo slow. But that's okay the marathon will be really fun because a lot of people will be doing either the half or the full, so at least I'll be in good company with sharing the misery. 

I still haven't gotten back on the road really, I'm working on it, but we'll see. I'll have you know that I have lent Machine Gun Kelly to my dad, as a hope to spur him into riding. If anyone can, MGK can get the job done. But we'll see. I'll also tell you that I have not named any of my other bikes so far. Because once you name something you definitely get attached to it. Like when I left Petzel (my waterbottle) on an airplane, I came close to causing a National Security issue. I can only imagine the hysteria I would have been in had I named my road bike. I should also let you know that one reason I decided to blog now, is court got moved to later this week, so you know I didn't want to load you down with a whole novel about everything next week. But I'll let you know how it goes. I don't really want to say anything incriminating about what will happen to the guy if the jury finds him not guilty, so I'm hoping for the best. So that's where I'm at not too exciting most of the days, now I watch the Tour de France and count that as my ride. Which for those of you who haven't been watching you missed a couple of epic crashes in the past few stages. One rider was seriously taken out by a car(!?!?!) A car, on a race course. Which leads me to believe there is little hope for us mere mortals. But at least I've already gotten that out of the way. 

 

Thanatos, St. Jude and Machine Gun Kelly

This guy has my back. Be jealous.

I'm not sure if I believe in fate, or that Thanatos has my back, but it almost seems like I should. The day I got hit, October 28th my whole ride I was cursing HC and basically coming up with an escape plan that included getting in my car and driving home. Spending 9 hours in the hospital that day derailed that plan pretty quickly. I also found out something odd during study break when I probably should have been studying Russian, but after my tutor informed me that even if I was one credit short I could still walk (real confidence booster there), so the pressure was off. Anyways I found out that October 28th is also St. Jude's feast day. Now for those of who didn't have a grandmother who made you read about the saints every time you wanted a cookie let me fill you in. St. Jude is the patron saint of desperate causes and lost causes. Let me tell you, I have a couple of those. It's a bit of an odd coincidence. Not only that but on April 28th I finally ordered my new bike without realizing it was the 6 month mark. On May 28th I'll be leaving HC for good, and on June 28th I'll be back out to testify. Maybe I'm just reading too much into it, like people do with the Mayan calendar (Mary Clair). But it does seem odd that for 3 months in a row, the date lines up with the original date that started so many changes. 

As for biking I don't plan on actually getting back on the road out here. There's no real point and I've been enjoying doing more mountain biking. So much so that I basically look like Jason Kidd's wife, allegedly. But I'm excited to actually get on my bike at home where I know the streets and area better and I only really have to be worried about buffalo and snakes and not crazy Woo-Rats (that's what they call Worcester natives, enduring right?) who fail to yield. And mountain biking basically makes me feel like a badass so that's a plus. 

The last court day went okay, he is still maintaining his innocence, so now it goes to jury trial. Let me tell you, Law and Order is deceiving when they wrap everything up within an hour. The last time I wasn't able to see him because they thought I would get called to do a line up and that seeing him would tamper with it, so they were constantly shuffling me around to avoid him. Which had it been SVU, I would have walked out of the interview room at the same time he had, so I was a little disappointed by the real court proceedings, much less drama. I'll let you know if anyone gets shot this next time, but don't hold your breath. 

I realized a couple of weeks ago that I was going to be okay, because I had been here before. My parents got divorced when I was in 5th grade. I was completely blindsided (luckily no car was involved). While at the time I thought my life was over, I mean who has divorced parents?!??? It's a pretty sweet situation now. My dad lives 6 houses down; I get to make 2 phone calls when I have exciting news; I have 2 bedrooms; 2 summer cabins; 2 birthday presents; and any time my mom is out of grapes I can just go to my dads. Jealous, right? Part of it is that right from the beginning my parents never let me be defined by it. I couldn't blame anything on the fact I was from a dysfunctional family, because we're the most functional-dysfunctional family I know. My dad still comes over for supper pretty regularly when I'm home, he's was there in the morning before I would go to school, and they are still together for holidays, birthday, and even late night jail breaks (kidding about the last one). They even punish me together, which usually means a lot longer than just one being the bad cop (7 weeks of being grounded is my record). With the crash and the leg incidents there too is a light showing at the end of the tunnel. While they are a part of me, I will define them not the other way around. Like Frankl says, it's not the event that defines who you are, it's how you react. 

Clearly not who I was writing about

So I finally wrapped everything up with DF, I turned in about 40 pages of random thoughts, okay not so much random, well he might think so. I ended up calling my paper "Machine Gun Kelly: The ride of my life and other athletic comebacks." It was only after I turned it in that I realized he has no idea that Machine Gun Kelly is the name of my bike. . .whoops. While some days that class felt like it was putting salt in an already bleeding open wound, addressing everything and putting to all together before I leave this place is what needed to be done. I can finally close the chapter on it all and walk away with almost a fresh start. Which is exactly what I plan on doing. I probably won't stop blogging though, as it's a way to still compile my thoughts even if they are random. And really I'm not fully back on the bike yet so I wouldn't want to let my loyal readers (mom and heidi) down. Ha.  

Why Hello Bike, Do you remember me?

  I am sitting in Russian lecture the other day, I should be paying attention. However, as my tutor will tell you that doesn't often happen. I'm looking out the window and thinking what a great day it would be to go for a ride, if only I rode my bike. I get my attention snapped back by a word. Cmeptb (pronounced smert) which means death. Immediately a song lyric flashes in my head. "Leave tonight, or stay and die this way." So I have two options; keep pushing my life back by not riding and keep come up with a reason not to ride or stop being a wimp and just go do it. The teacher wasn't even able to finish  до свидания before I was out the door. I didn't really have time to think about what I really needed or wanted; shoes, helmet, water, and bike, that seemed sufficient. I guess I didn't learn my lesson from 127 hours because I left without telling anyone where I was going, but I did grab a swiss army knife so I thought it canceled the other out. I knew that this ride was going to go one of two ways: A.) I would be so timid that I would probably wobble back and forth and fall over before making it 5 feet in total or B.) I would take the mentality that not even a car can take mt out so why would anything in the forest be able to do the deed. 

Much to my mother's dismay I went with the latter, I took drops and descents that I probably would have thought twice about before. As a result it was one of the most pure rides I think I've ever had, I wasn't even really thinking I was just riding. In hind sight I should have realized that taking 7 months off doesn't mean I'll be able to do amazing trick that I couldn't do before, but I still tried. I'm just glad that when I fell off a log I went right and not left into the electrical box (win!)

If I go missing, I'm in here ^

I've actually been out a couple of times since then. It's funny because I start in the same place thinking I'm going to be following the same path I've taken the last time. But riding is much like life, you look and see something you didn't before and it turns out to be a sick trail with all the fixings, and you missed it before because you were so focused on getting to where you thought you needed to be. I did notice, however, that in an Easter dress my legs looked quiet mangled from all the bumps/bruises and turns along the way but it's minor factor in the overall picture. At least my parents will be happy I took off the spider man band-aid.  

If there is one thing I've learned from my history with my bum leg is that you have to be proactive. Nobody really cares if you never run again, just like nobody is going to make me get back on the bike. Today I actually went to the bike shop to test ride a few bikes. It was actually the first time I've been on a road bike since the crash and I went full force, riding on streets, taking turns, and dealing with cars. I didn't even think about getting hit, I mean I did, but it wasn't controlling me like I thought it would. There was one time where my heart started racing when a car was awkwardly driving in the middle of the road, much like the one that hit me did. Maybe my subconscious set it off, or maybe it was the hill I was attacking. Anyways I found a bike, this is where my dad is going to roll his eyes. Because I know all the components and I know what the bike is capable of, but honestly I picked it because of the color. It's gorgeous and will do everything I need to to exceptionally well, but really it was just too beautiful not to get. I guess I really am my mother's daughter. And I made fun of her because she bought her car because it had a CD player and was white. . . .

As far as Heft went he did live, but he realized that he didn't have to be the best at cycling to be a good person, which I think gets lost in our society sometimes. He scaled back his training and didn't try to kill his body so much but he spent more time with his children and less time worrying about his power output. Not to say he stopped riding or taking it seriously he just scaled it back and wasn't quiet so obsessed. Maybe incidents like that are need to make someone take a break and to actually re-evaluate just what they are running from.  

As for the rest of the reading with DF I poked around Michael Phelps book, and Kelly Slater's but I'm mainly on the writing portion of the class. I'm trying to answer the question what makes the different between peak performance and champion performance. Let me tell you every champion you asks tells you a different answer so needless to say it seems to be never ending at this point.  

Tour de Harry Potter!

Did you know that Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin were born on the EXACT same day. Two men both altering the course of history, both so well known that all is needed is a last name to know exactly who is implied, on the same day. I mean, really, what are the odds? Well, wikipedia doesn't have those statistics posted, and much to my biostats professor's dismay I don't even know where to start to calculate that, I mean I know that it only takes 22 people for 2 of them to share the same birthday so that's not very high, but two people that famous, well that's pretty unlikely. I can tell you that statistically a cyclist can expect a minor accident/injury every 3 years and a more serious one every 15. So I figure I'm good to go for a while now, I told this to DF and he told me I can't live my life on statistics. Which is true but at the same time statistics are like stereotypes they're not always true, but some of them are and are based on something. So while statistically I should be good at least until 2025, I'm not going to be tempting fate either and ride in the middle of the street, or dash through red lights, or spit on car windows (even if the driver deserves it), at least not for a while. 

Yesterday was another day of firsts, it was the first day that I felt antsy to get out and ride, not antsy anxious, but antsy so much that I'm starting to look at mountain trails and see what openings I have in my schedule this week. I'm even starting to take the first step of buying a new bike and going into the shop that I work at for a proper bike fit, instead of just saying "oh maybe next week I'll get to it." I'm even going to bring my road bike in to see if there is anyway it can be salvaged to be at least somewhat functional, not race functional but let me go to the store at a slow pace functional. 

The only problem is that I have this sudden desire to just grab my mountain bike and go to some random woods (no mom, not completely random, I will not be calling for directions . . . again) and find some single track or double track. Unfortunately my car, which I would be using to transport my bike away from the crazy Worcester roads is in the shop because some masshole decided it would be a good idea to run into the back of my car and take out my bike rack. I swear these people out here have something against bikes, and all things related.

So I'm going to try and go out tomorrow after I pick my car up, which is ironic because it would be my first ride on the east coast since the accident and it's also the first day of court proceedings. I'm not sure where the new found motivation to go out is coming from, maybe it's the nice weather, or the fact that I had a complete break down on Friday and my mind realizes it might be the only way to stay sane until graduation . . .I'm not sure, but I don't hate it.


As far as read goes I read "Cycling Philosophy for Everyone: A Tour de Force" which has seemed to jump on the band wagon of calling everything Tour de _______ (cleverly fill in the blank to replace France and BAM you have a cycling hit!) The book talks about the ways philosophy, culture, and existential experiences arise when human energy is propelling two wheels. It encompasses a lot though, Lennard Zinn, Greg LeMond, and Lance Armstrong (and if you only know 1 of those names you are propably in line with the majority of Americans, and by default I'm sure you can figure out what the other 2 do if you know Lance). It touches on kinesiology, literature, political aspects, issues woman face in the industry, so a nice introductory book into our next focus of the course, which is cycling. It also means that after this book I get to pick the reading for the remainder of the semester! Harry Potter?!?? I'm sure we can work that in! Ha


Actually I went to the book store the other day and scaled their stands for bicycling related books. There are plenty of training bibles and books that promise you the ability to "climb like Lance" but not a lot of books that talk about other aspects of riding than just training. Training is very important, but I can't exactly keep a training diary and have that count as class credit, that would be pushing the envelop a little much. . . whomp whomp.

Does this look like a professional sufer to you?

I scanned the sports related reading to see what else I could find. I ran across "Soul Surfer" which has nothing to do with bicycling, but it's about this girl who has hopes of becoming a professional surfer when (spoiler alert!) her arm gets bit off by a shark. I figure it was relevant becasue she also went through a random attack for no rhyme or reason and it has significantly altered her life and (momentarily) derailed her plans. It's a quick read, I read it all on one of my long rides in the gym. I can only imagine what other people at the gym think of me because the other day I was watching a stand up comedian and could not stop laughing, he was hilarious (in case you're wondering his name is Daniel Tosh, youtube him, you will not be disappointed). And then I bring this book in and in some places I'm moved to tears, literally pedaling with tears streaming down my cheeks. Maybe they thought I was so upset with how slow I was riding (in my defense it was a long recovery ride, HR below 130) but no, it was not because of the ride. It was really hard to read when she talks about her parents and how much they have supported her and how strong they were through it all, it reminded me of my parents and how many years I have taken off their lives because of the stress I have put on them. . .not great. . . It's a great read though and the movie is coming out soon so I'll put that on my syllabus! 

Does this look like a rider?

 The other book I got, just so DF wouldn't think I was slacking, was a random grab, and I only followed through with the purchase after seeing the cover because it was under 10 and figure it couldn't hurt. The name is "Heft on Wheels" and this guys wasn't kidding. When he first started biking he was close to 280 (and I complain about having to carry 145 pounds up a hill, I can only imagine), smoking a pack a day (sometimes 2) and a raging alcoholic (which once you're out of college that's what it's called when you drink to get drunk 3+ nights a week). But this guy has so much motivation to prove himself he can do it, and he does. He transforms his diet, stops smoking and drinking and starts biking. Simple, right? Not exactly he does have a relapse at Red Lobster one night. Those cheesy biscuits get me too, so that's understandable. But the more miles he does the more his body and soul get transformed. Even the way he treats people drastically changes for the better, he has a completely new outlook on everything. At first I just thought it would be a nice little read, something I could talk to DF about motivation, drive, transformation, maybe be able to bring in some psychology aspects, nothing much, then I read the first chapter. It starts with him a year after he gets on the bike, he's on a group ride, one that he used to get his ass kicked on and now he's the one leading it. He's about 50 feet in front of the next rider when a truck hits him, by a driver who wasn't able to get a license for the past 10 years due to driving issues. From there it goes back and starts at the beginning of his riding days and works its way back up to the accident. Now I can't tell you how he recovers from the accident as I haven't gotten to that but I will keep you informed. My guess is he lives, as he goes on to write the book, but life is full of surprises so I don't put all my eggs in one basket.

Greatness in God-Forsaken Wyoming?

Greatness is defined by "a concept of a state of superiority affecting a person, object or place. Greatness can also be referred to individuals who posses a mere natural ability to be better than all others." This is from Wikipedia, and I'm told it's not the best place to cite but it seems to get the point across enough. Since last Wednesday the word greatness has been rolling around in my brain, which is a long time for one thought to be there (let me tell you.) When I was meeting with DF the other day I threw out the word (BIG mistake) and what it means to be great at something. He told me you can't be great at something without comparing yourself to others. I countered his thought with the fact that on your own spectrum you could be great at something. He countered that with saying it just meant that you were more connected to something not necessarily great at it. But if you were great at something, that would imply you would be better at it than someone else. (Fighting with someone with a PhD seems to be a lost cause).

If I told you I won 100% of my races I ran in track my senior year, you would think I'm a great runner right? That's not a fabrication, I did win all of them. But I wasn't a great runner, I only ran one race that season before I got injured, and I only beat 4 girls. But I was great runner compared to those girls. If everything is all relative, can't we all theoretically be great at everything and nothing at the same time.
See this is why I'm not a fan of the philosophical side of psychology, you go around and around and never really come out on an answer, no wonder the field is filled with crazies.

So while I contemplate being great on my next ride. Yes, if you read that right it should be clicking right now that the previous sentence would be implying I had a first ride. I did in fact take my first ride. See it happened completely spur of the moment which took out actually planning, pumping up the tires, checking the chain, filling water bottles, clipping it. . .So there I was without a car in God-forsaken Wyoming. And I needed to find my friend Heidi, because well I had wandered off. I jumped on a bike (don't worry I asked first and even remembered to lock it when I was done). As I'm riding around Laramie in the dark (I know what you're thinking because I heard my mother as I was riding saying 'Are you crazy , really, are you crazy, you got hit by a car and now you're riding your bike around in the dark. How is my child lacking so much common sense' but you're forgetting, I said I was in Wyoming, no one lives there, so there are no cars! I was riding around with no handlebars, because the bike was a little big and uncomfortable to stretch that far (I know I have come very far with my balance from the days where I would trip over a line) I couldn't help but wonder how it took so long for me to ride, because this is the BEST thing ever. Seriously. Get on a bike and try to be angry, or sad, or miserable. It's Impossible, like licking your elbow. Although I have met one person who could do that.

Switching gears, (hahaha, get it?) my dad called me the other morning and started the conversation with the following statement: "The State Attorney's office called me last night, do you know what you were doing January 22 . . .? Oh dear lord, I was still home, but all my friends were gone at that point so clearly I couldn't have been doing anything that bad, it shouldn't have involved the police in anyway and then after a long enough pause he added "1998" 1998?!? I was what all of 9 years old? "Um, dad I was 9, I have no idea" No way is he trying to be nostalgic with the state attorney's office being involved. No. Apparently at that time I had witnessed a guy peeing in public, which I don't even remember this happening. He was charged with exposure and never showed up for his court date. They put a bench warrant out but really when you gotta go, you gotta go so they didn't actively pursue it. The other night he felt guilty enough that after 13 years he decided to turn himself in. My dad just wanted to let me know that while the justice system may be slow, there is always justice. Which was not comforting in the slightest bit, but I know the intention was there.

Now switching gears one more time.

Over break I had to watch the movie 127 hours, I know, you wish you had that kind of homework too, and I'm telling you, you should be jealous. There is a part where he says that his whole life this boulder (spoiler alert!) has been waiting to trap his arm. Everything he has done up until this point has led him to this moment. The rock has been sitting there waiting for him to come along. (This is the part where psychology gets weird) Which has made me think a lot. I've had some pretty heavy stuff happen at college before I got hit, and each time I have questioned the path that I'm on, and always felt that while it might not be exactly where I want or the direction that I thought, it seemed like it was enough and that altering the course would cause too much destruction and chaos to make it ultimately worth it. Every time I had the opportunity to jump the tracks I turned it down, out of the security of staying and the fear of going. So it seems like each time I opted to continue down the 'simple path' I became one minute closer to getting hit, one minute closer to finally reaching the tipping point that allowed me to say enough was enough and finally put in changes that had been long over due. It hasn't been easy, I feel like damaged goods almost and the aftermath of how people view me isn't exactly ideal either. Rather than seeing me for all I could be worth, it's easier to see how damaged I have become. But like I said earlier, psychology is a soft science. It's all speculation. And it's just as easy to say I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My First Time

The last time I posted I finished with talking about how I at least have one good leg to stand on, which was pretty convenient because the next book I read was A Leg to Stand On by Oliver Sacks. Sacks was hiking one day and ran into a bull, and in his attempt to get away he basically fell down a large drop and destroyed his leg. Tendons ripped, ligaments shredded and his knee only bent backwards (Not great). He goes on to talk about his stay in the hospital and his recovery. As a neurologist himself he was finally able to identify with his patients and see it from the other side. The injury itself actually ended up provoking him to alter his research into the disassociation with a limb after surgery, like the one he experience. After his surgery when he woke up for some time he had no feeling or connection with his leg. Which I can attest it is a cool phenomenon, but only when it's not happening to you. He makes a full recovery (relatively) and towards the end of the book a friend writes him suggesting that this was all part of his destiny, a destiny he had no control over but came out of it for the better. The gives me hope, especially since everyday I get further away from the day of the crash. And closer to some closure, minus the fact the guy skipped out on his last court date, but with a warrant out for his arrest maybe now he'll actually get some jail time as that's pretty frowned upon in the judicial system (or so I'm told). 

As part of my "destiny" it just wasn't in the cards to get on the bike before spring break. The weather was pretty crummy and it's not that I wouldn't have gone out if it was absolutely pressing but having my first time back being filled with curse words because of the bloody wind isn't exactly how I want to start off, again. It's not that I want this completely euphoric ride either, if it's absolutely mundane I will take that, I just want at least some uncontrollable factors to be at least favorable. I'm just looking at it that it's the first ride of the spring, most riders I talk to haven't even been out yet because the winter has been so atrocious, so yah.

The last class I had before I skipped town for spring break the professor asked if anyone remembered the first time they put trust in riding a bike without training wheels. I'm not even sure what the question was pertinent to because at that point I stopped listening to think about the first time I rode without training wheels. Unlike my sister, who had my mom run over one of her training wheels, mine was by choice. It was at daycare with Suzie. It was a rush. One of those things you don't think you can do and then you just do it and you're like holy crap, I am the coolest person ever. Which is exactly what went through my 3 year old brain. I was so ecstatic that when I got home with my parents I had to show them, but  I'm not sure that they had full confidence in a crazy 3 year old with a blond fro and 25 pounds sopping wet. They didn't let me ride in the street (which was probably a good move as we live on a hill) and instead made me go on the back patio (which I'm not sure was a better choice due to the stairs) but due to my impressive handling skills I was able to make the sharp corners. Since then I can remember obsessing about getting my older brother to let me ride his "big" bike with no kick stand. Hardcore. It makes sense now as I still ride one of his hand-me-downs, with no kickstand (not the same one had when he was 6, don't worry). For some reason the fact that it was fitted for someone who is 6'4" doesn't detour me, as in my mind I'm taller than I am in real life. So at least some things never change. 

 I was talking to my strength coach for volleyball about altering our lift program to fit more to cycling and he talked about growing up and saving his money to buy a bike so his parents could no longer restrict him like  when they had to drive him around. He remember the freedom he felt and how cool he thought he was. Everyone seems to have a pure bike moment, when they were able to taste freedom for the first time. 

The plane ride from Boston actually got me thinking, see the guy next to me decided to would be an opportune time to eat a Tuna fish sandwich, which triggered my motion sickness for the first time in years. See, when I was a kid I would get it really bad, so bad that there are family vacation pictures where all I have on is a really long shirt. My parents would pack extra clothing even for an hour trip and I could easily acquire the front seat with a few gag reflexes (Yes, Frank I was faking a couple of times). But through out the years I've pretty much grown out of it, but I still take precautions, like not eating before I fly and checking to make sure there is a "motion discomfort bag" in the seat pocket. Even now my anxiety about biking and being around cars has decreased, comparatively but I know that it will probably flare up at inopportune times but I can prepare for that. Eventually it will just become a memory that isn't associated with an increased heart rate and sweat palms. But until then I'll carry a couple of extra napkins to wipe the perspiration and get on with my life.

-K