The local community center had a $30/30 days promo running, and they have a pool and a rowing machine, so I decided that I better cram in a few kayak-related workouts before Pedal and Paddle - which is in about a month.
Spent 20 minutes on the rower, and I know I'm going to feel it later. whoa.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Cookie Time
Today was a bit of a crazy day (which is why I'm posting at 11:51pm to make my daily deadline...)
As soon as Sarah got home, we headed over and picked up Madi from school, and made a beeline to the hairstylists to clean up Sarah's self-made hairdo. I love my stylist - she even threw in a free French braid for Madilyn, since we had some extra time!
After running a number of errands, I decided a treat was in order, so we ended up at Grandma's Bakery. Both girls chose decorated cookies - Sarah had a Big Bird cookie, and Madi picked one with a lizard on it. They didn't get a chance to eat them right away, since they decided that they would much rather eat the donut holes that I had ordered for myself. I guess I should credit them for saving me from myself - at least partially. I did manage a few. :)
As soon as Sarah got home, we headed over and picked up Madi from school, and made a beeline to the hairstylists to clean up Sarah's self-made hairdo. I love my stylist - she even threw in a free French braid for Madilyn, since we had some extra time!
After running a number of errands, I decided a treat was in order, so we ended up at Grandma's Bakery. Both girls chose decorated cookies - Sarah had a Big Bird cookie, and Madi picked one with a lizard on it. They didn't get a chance to eat them right away, since they decided that they would much rather eat the donut holes that I had ordered for myself. I guess I should credit them for saving me from myself - at least partially. I did manage a few. :)
It was a beautiful, sunny day, and great to be out and about. We ended up running errands all the way until it was time to head for church for youth activities. Madi never even made it to our house until 9 pm.
I'm glad that days like this only happen once in a while. It's exhausting!
Old Blue in the Shop
But life happens, things change, and after California, bike riding in New Ulm, Minnesota didn't have the same appeal. Then Sarah was born, and my bike was left to gather dust. I'm ashamed to say that it gathered dust for about 11 years before I realized how much I missed cycling. It took another year for me to lose enough weight to get back in the saddle comfortably.
I still remember the first time I got Blue saddled up and headed out for a ride again - as I rode down the street, my whole body relaxed and I thought "Aaahh. THIS is where I'm supposed to be." But, Blue was a bit worse for the wear. All that time hanging around, and she paid a price. If I had thought about it, I would have shifted gears at least once a year, changing the tension on the cables so they didn't develop a memory. But I didn't.
Before my first ride, I got her tuned up and ready to go. But she just wasn't the same. We'd fight - I'd shift gears, and she'd shift back, usually when I was cranking hard - jamming my knee and making me swear under my breath. She had a gear she liked, and wanted to stay with it. I told the bike shops about our arguments, but after two separate tune-ups at two different bike shops, I was starting to think that we were two cranky old ladies who just had to learn to put up with each other.
The situation was tolerable, but things got a little harder to take once Gary got his flashy new (non-grumpy) road bike. HIS bike shifted without a hitch, willingly, with a simple twitch of the fingers on the brakes. Beautiful integrated shifters - no hands off the handlebars, reaching down to find the levers, monkeying until it "felt" right, listening for the gear change - completely automated, smooth as silk, and I was jealous.
Because Gary is the kind of guy that he is, and because I am not above using guilt to shift outcomes in my favor, we talked about upgrading my bike with integrated shifters. He discussed it with the bike store when he was shopping for his bike, and was told it could be done, for about $200. For those of you who don't ride, $200 on a bike might seem expensive, but, in the cycling world, where "real" bikes start at $1500, it's a bargain.
Thinking that I would eventually get the upgrade made riding more tolerable. When Blue was cranky, I would think "just you wait - I'm going to get those shifters and all these troubles will be behind us!"
And then the crash happened. When I took Blue to the local bike shop to be repaired, I asked the mechanic to quote me a price for upgrading to integrated shifters. He wasn't sure, so called out the lead mechanic - the one who would be doing the work - from the back. The man who emerged had an arrogance born of experience - it was obvious he knew what he was talking about - and precious few social skills. After subtly belittling the first mechanic and running through all the components that would need to be upgraded in order to make it work, the total was close to $550.
He looked at me, looked disdainfully down on Blue, and said "For that amount of money, I'd rather sell you a nice 10 speed." It might not be obvious, but this was a serious slapdown. No one who is even a little serious about cycling rides a 10 speed. NO ONE in the cycling community calls it a "10 speed" - it's a road bike. His comment was an indictment of both Blue and me.
Seething, I silently repeated "He's a jerk. He's just a jerk." (I do admit that, in my head, I did use a stronger term than "jerk"). I agreed that it probably wasn't cost effective to upgrade, but could they please look into the shifting issue. The head mechanic left, since that apparently was beneath him, and I continued talking with the original mechanic, who suspected that the problem was actually a bent derailleur hanger (part of the bike frame).
Long story short, I am now in love with the (nice) mechanic. He trued my front wheel, fixed my bent frame, and Blue is back to her prime. Well, not her prime - we both have a few battle scars - but she is running like a champ again! She shifts so smoothly that I barely mind that I have to reach down to shift.
Now I might actually ride with Gary once in a while. Especially if we can figure out a way to do it along the California coast.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
There is a downside to improvement...
At my girls' doctor appointment last Friday, I spoke with the doctor about the behavior changes that I've seen in Madilyn since we found the current dose of her ADD meds. Overall, she is SO much better... but now she's more like a typical kid. Before - overly cautious, worried, not really into playing. Now - throwing couch cushions across the room when looking for the remote (and knocking over a water bottle, making a mess... ) - basic lack-of-judgment things you would expect from any kid.
He told me that, when ADD is controlled, any developmental delays caused by the brain imbalance tend to correct themselves, and kids act age appropriately. In Madi, this means increased independence and thinking for herself... and some foolish choices.
Did I mention that we started Sarah on ADD meds, too? Since she's been having real attention issues at school -it was worth a shot. It's too soon to tell, but this is the sight that I came upon in the bathroom on Monday morning (day 3 of meds):
So, it does seem that the meds are bringing out the "true child" in each of them. Heaven help me, I hope I'm ready.
He told me that, when ADD is controlled, any developmental delays caused by the brain imbalance tend to correct themselves, and kids act age appropriately. In Madi, this means increased independence and thinking for herself... and some foolish choices.
Did I mention that we started Sarah on ADD meds, too? Since she's been having real attention issues at school -it was worth a shot. It's too soon to tell, but this is the sight that I came upon in the bathroom on Monday morning (day 3 of meds):
Yes, Sarah cut her own hair. Is there a child who doesn't do this at some point? Granted, for most kids it occurs around age 2 or 3, not 14... and for the record, I do NOT keep scissors in their bathroom - she had to go searching for them.
When asked why she did this, she replied (most reasonably) that it was hanging in her eyes and bothering her. I asked her why she took it off at the roots, but got a blank stare on that one.
So, it does seem that the meds are bringing out the "true child" in each of them. Heaven help me, I hope I'm ready.
Poor Old Blue and the Crash
Bike training in the spring is always a touch-and-go thing if you're wimpy like me and don't like to ride in the rain. Freezing drizzle might seem harmless in May - it certainly doesn't ice the roads - but coupled with wind, it can feel like tiny knives cutting your face as you ride. Needless to say, I avoid it whenever possible.
The weather has not been cycling-friendly lately, making me low on training miles, with my 40 mile ride quickly approaching. So, I was delighted to see that we were going to have a sunny, 50 degree day on Tuesday - the only rain-free day of the week. Checking my calendar deflated my spirits a bit - I had a lunch date with a visiting out-of-town friend. Although very excited to see her, realizing the lunch was smack in the middle of my proposed three-hour riding block dampened my enthusiasm. Thinking outside the box, I decided that I'd ride twice that day - 17 miles in the morning, home, shower, throw Old Blue (my bike) in the back of the car, lunch, another 17 miles, then home in time to meet Sarah's bus.
Great plan, but a slight problem in execution.
About 8 miles into my ride, I was zipping along at a peppy 17 mph when I crossed an intersection containing a splitter island. Everyone's seen a splitter island, but might not know what they're called, so I found the photo below online to illustrate. It's not the actual intersection I crossed.
Let me digress here, and share some curb terminology. There are two main types of curbs - insurmountable and surmountable. Insurmountable are sharp, almost 90 degree curbs designed to keep cars in the roadway and off the sidewalk. Surmountable are sloped and angled such that they can be traversed without damage to the vehicle. Back to my story.
My ride to this point was on a bike trail filled with surmountable curbs, nicely sloped at each intersection, allowing the rider to maintain speed. It's such a rookie mistake, but I didn't look closely enough at the ground as I crossed, and couldn't tell until about 2 feet away that I was rapidly approaching an insurmountable curb at high speed.
I was mad. I knew what was going to happen, there wasn't enough time to fix it, and I was MAD. In that split second, I pictured my front wheel hitting that curb, stopping abruptly, and me, still attached to my bike (thank you, clip-in pedals) in an amazing rear-over-front, skidding, sliding mess. In the middle of the intersection. With traffic. So I yelled. Not a girly, I'm-so-scared-because-it's-really-going-to-hurt scream, but an angry, how-dare-this-happen-to-me "NO!" at the top of my lungs.
And a miracle occurred.
I stayed upright.
I am convinced that in that second after impact, when my front tire exploded and my rim bent, God (or, more likely, one of His angels) grabbed me from behind and kept me upright, until I regained my balance and rode my damaged bike across the rest of the street. I'm at a loss for any other explanation.
I found out later that the impact was so strong that it popped one of my water bottles straight up and out of its cage, and popped out one of the handlebar end caps. I was too shaken up to notice in the moment, otherwise I would have gone back and gotten them from the middle of the road. I found their crushed remains later in the day when I revisited the scene.
So, on the other side of the intersection - undamaged me, and a limpy Old Blue. Now what? Well, it's about an hour and a half before my lunch date. I'm about a quarter mile from the restaurant, so I could easily walk there and meet my friend. I'm certain she'd give me a ride home afterwards.
And then the wind shifts, and I catch a whiff of me. Instantly, I realize that that plan's not going to work. I haven't showered in two days, I'm grimy and sweating, and I'm wearing skin tight black cycling pants and a fluorescent yellow jacket. Not really the way I want to reconnect with a friend I haven't seen in two years.
I assess the situation, and it's this: I'm about 6 miles from home. My husband is out of town. My friends have recently (reluctantly) rejoined the workforce. I have a cell phone and credit card, but no tire patch kit. I don't have contact info for my out-of-town friend. Things are not looking good. I call my good friend Ann, who works from home, but she's on her way out the door to a meeting. It tears her up inside to not be able to help, but I won't let her even consider it. I rack my brain for other people I know who are at home at 10:20 am on a Tuesday morning... it's a short list.
All the while, I'm walking toward home, dragging Old Blue along with me. On a regular day, I would have just walked the 6 miles in my inflexible bike shoes and called it a workout AND a learning experience. But this wasn't a regular day - I really wanted to see my out-of-town friend!
A brief prayer reminded me of my wonderful home teachers, a couple in their 70's who had just sold their home and were just in the midst of both packing up their house and watching their grandson. I called, and Becky dropped everything and came to my rescue. I loved her before, but this sealed the deal.
I got home in time to shower, dress, and fly out the door... and I beat my friend to the restaurant by about two minutes. Someone was really looking out for me that day. :)
The weather has not been cycling-friendly lately, making me low on training miles, with my 40 mile ride quickly approaching. So, I was delighted to see that we were going to have a sunny, 50 degree day on Tuesday - the only rain-free day of the week. Checking my calendar deflated my spirits a bit - I had a lunch date with a visiting out-of-town friend. Although very excited to see her, realizing the lunch was smack in the middle of my proposed three-hour riding block dampened my enthusiasm. Thinking outside the box, I decided that I'd ride twice that day - 17 miles in the morning, home, shower, throw Old Blue (my bike) in the back of the car, lunch, another 17 miles, then home in time to meet Sarah's bus.
Great plan, but a slight problem in execution.
About 8 miles into my ride, I was zipping along at a peppy 17 mph when I crossed an intersection containing a splitter island. Everyone's seen a splitter island, but might not know what they're called, so I found the photo below online to illustrate. It's not the actual intersection I crossed.
Let me digress here, and share some curb terminology. There are two main types of curbs - insurmountable and surmountable. Insurmountable are sharp, almost 90 degree curbs designed to keep cars in the roadway and off the sidewalk. Surmountable are sloped and angled such that they can be traversed without damage to the vehicle. Back to my story.
My ride to this point was on a bike trail filled with surmountable curbs, nicely sloped at each intersection, allowing the rider to maintain speed. It's such a rookie mistake, but I didn't look closely enough at the ground as I crossed, and couldn't tell until about 2 feet away that I was rapidly approaching an insurmountable curb at high speed.
I was mad. I knew what was going to happen, there wasn't enough time to fix it, and I was MAD. In that split second, I pictured my front wheel hitting that curb, stopping abruptly, and me, still attached to my bike (thank you, clip-in pedals) in an amazing rear-over-front, skidding, sliding mess. In the middle of the intersection. With traffic. So I yelled. Not a girly, I'm-so-scared-because-it's-really-going-to-hurt scream, but an angry, how-dare-this-happen-to-me "NO!" at the top of my lungs.
And a miracle occurred.
I stayed upright.
I am convinced that in that second after impact, when my front tire exploded and my rim bent, God (or, more likely, one of His angels) grabbed me from behind and kept me upright, until I regained my balance and rode my damaged bike across the rest of the street. I'm at a loss for any other explanation.
I found out later that the impact was so strong that it popped one of my water bottles straight up and out of its cage, and popped out one of the handlebar end caps. I was too shaken up to notice in the moment, otherwise I would have gone back and gotten them from the middle of the road. I found their crushed remains later in the day when I revisited the scene.
So, on the other side of the intersection - undamaged me, and a limpy Old Blue. Now what? Well, it's about an hour and a half before my lunch date. I'm about a quarter mile from the restaurant, so I could easily walk there and meet my friend. I'm certain she'd give me a ride home afterwards.
And then the wind shifts, and I catch a whiff of me. Instantly, I realize that that plan's not going to work. I haven't showered in two days, I'm grimy and sweating, and I'm wearing skin tight black cycling pants and a fluorescent yellow jacket. Not really the way I want to reconnect with a friend I haven't seen in two years.
I assess the situation, and it's this: I'm about 6 miles from home. My husband is out of town. My friends have recently (reluctantly) rejoined the workforce. I have a cell phone and credit card, but no tire patch kit. I don't have contact info for my out-of-town friend. Things are not looking good. I call my good friend Ann, who works from home, but she's on her way out the door to a meeting. It tears her up inside to not be able to help, but I won't let her even consider it. I rack my brain for other people I know who are at home at 10:20 am on a Tuesday morning... it's a short list.
All the while, I'm walking toward home, dragging Old Blue along with me. On a regular day, I would have just walked the 6 miles in my inflexible bike shoes and called it a workout AND a learning experience. But this wasn't a regular day - I really wanted to see my out-of-town friend!
A brief prayer reminded me of my wonderful home teachers, a couple in their 70's who had just sold their home and were just in the midst of both packing up their house and watching their grandson. I called, and Becky dropped everything and came to my rescue. I loved her before, but this sealed the deal.
I got home in time to shower, dress, and fly out the door... and I beat my friend to the restaurant by about two minutes. Someone was really looking out for me that day. :)
Monday, May 2, 2011
New bike!
It's late, and I might have missed my deadline for posting, but I had to try:
Here is Gary on his NEW BIKE! After someone got him riding, oh, say... 17 years ago, he's finally decided to cross over to the fast lane, and he bought a road bike. I promptly declared that although I was so happy for him, I would never ride with him again. Because if he's able to keep up with my road bike when he's on that clunky mountain bike, well, I don't really stand a chance now.
Here is Gary on his NEW BIKE! After someone got him riding, oh, say... 17 years ago, he's finally decided to cross over to the fast lane, and he bought a road bike. I promptly declared that although I was so happy for him, I would never ride with him again. Because if he's able to keep up with my road bike when he's on that clunky mountain bike, well, I don't really stand a chance now.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Dogpile
Mom: "Madi! Don't jump on your sister's stomach!"
Watching Sarah laying on the floor of my room, I foolishly made a quip about "dogpiling on Sarah"... which prompted Madi to run to Sarah's side, then drop to her knees... on Sarah's stomach. Leading me to the quote above.
After a brief training session on the humane application of "dogpile", Madi left for... something electronic, probably. Sarah, apparently uninjured, continued laying on my floor, quizzing me about why stomach jumping wasn't a good idea.
Sarah: "What might happen?"
Mom: "One of your organs might get bruised."
Sarah: "What would happen?"
Mom: "It would hurt."
Sarah: "Would I have to go to the hospital?"
Mom: "Maybe - if it was bad."
Sarah: "And then you would get a brand-new Sarah?"
Mom: "Never! There's only one Sarah - I couldn't get a new one!"
Looking at Sarah's silly smirk at this point, I realized yet again that there is a lot more going on in there than she lets on. After all, who doesn't want to be reassured that they're totally irreplaceable once in a while?
Watching Sarah laying on the floor of my room, I foolishly made a quip about "dogpiling on Sarah"... which prompted Madi to run to Sarah's side, then drop to her knees... on Sarah's stomach. Leading me to the quote above.
After a brief training session on the humane application of "dogpile", Madi left for... something electronic, probably. Sarah, apparently uninjured, continued laying on my floor, quizzing me about why stomach jumping wasn't a good idea.
Sarah: "What might happen?"
Mom: "One of your organs might get bruised."
Sarah: "What would happen?"
Mom: "It would hurt."
Sarah: "Would I have to go to the hospital?"
Mom: "Maybe - if it was bad."
Sarah: "And then you would get a brand-new Sarah?"
Mom: "Never! There's only one Sarah - I couldn't get a new one!"
Looking at Sarah's silly smirk at this point, I realized yet again that there is a lot more going on in there than she lets on. After all, who doesn't want to be reassured that they're totally irreplaceable once in a while?
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