tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72845838055085776812024-02-19T01:53:12.594-08:00mindful mulemindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.comBlogger408125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-10023988260857968442023-02-16T09:53:00.000-08:002023-02-16T09:53:44.794-08:00A Cricket in the Kitchen<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wait. What’s that sound?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Man, this old house—creaks and clicks, thumps and bumps…</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">But this sound is new. Well, I haven’t heard it in a long while anyway.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Is it the florescent under-cabinet lighting heating up and shifting?</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Or wait! Ah! It’s a cricket! </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It gets quiet as I get closer to the sound as I search for it—so like Cricket!</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think it’s right here… </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s lucky, I’ve heard—a cricket in the house…</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think I’ve got it cornered now… slowly moving forward…</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s just my water bottle equalizing pressure out its squeeze-top…</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Funny. Fun. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Life of a cyclist…</span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-4543155362665911262022-11-03T09:43:00.000-07:002022-11-03T09:43:33.520-07:00Walking With Jack<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">There’s this great Mexican restaurant in town that I’ve been visiting for about a decade now. Daughter was practically raised there. We’ve probably over done it (Daughter now rolls her eyes when we mention the place) but we’ve also had a lot of good times and brought a lot of friends into the place and made new ones there, too. It’s a little bit of a trek to get there from home but we’ve got various activities to attend to in that part of town so it’s easy enough to drop by before or after or during… </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ll often bike there. There’s one bike rack in front. They could use a couple more. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s also pretty close to the commuter train. So that’s easy, too. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I’ve made some new friends in there (did I mention there’s a bar?) I’m reminded that not as many people bike, train, walk places… So, for example, when I was in there the other day I was mentioning that I had just hopped off the train and walked over and that I’d be doing the same on the way out… John (we’ll call him), an older jazz saxophone player looked at me with amazed eyes—“you mean you’re just going to walk all over town and hop trains all afternoon—like Jack Kerouac?!” </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fast forward a few visits and John was in there again. As I was heading out I said, “I’m gonna go walking with Jack…” He must have forgotten about the Kerouac comment because he conjured up a very different image this time, saying, “you mean your 8-foot tall jackrabbit?!” </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Haha, that’s right!” Sometimes it’s best to just nod and smile and go with the flow. As I was walking off into that blissful sunset, though, I did enjoy the image of me and my invisible giant rabbit Kerouac-ing around together… a couple of amigos on the road…</span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-68857867244037166682022-02-03T09:30:00.004-08:002022-02-03T09:30:48.352-08:00Microspikes<p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I suppose this fits in the category of Trail Shoe Test Lab although microspikes are more of a shoe accessory—just try wearing them without you shoes!</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There's a snowy mountain on the horizon. It’s been watching over me for all these years. Of course, snow melts, but at its high altitude more or less at treeline it always looks bald.</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And there’s a trail to the top! Let’s take it! Let’s take it a lot! Over and over again! </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But with big mountains comes big responsibility. And big preparedness. I tried visiting the mountain with burley hiking boots and the mountain said No. Its snow and ice turned me around halfway to the peak—right about that moment when I saw a group of hikers coming down wearing crampons and helmets and carrying ice axes, oh my!</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I prepared so more. I guess I need crampons, I thought. But that seemed so serious—I’m no mountaineer! Or am I? Maybe there’s a middle ground. A mountain hearer? Perhaps. After all, “the mountains are calling,” as He said. And the middle gear for answering that call for me turned out to be microspikes—not the cute little ones with Track&Field spikes but those with a dozen one centimeter-long daggers! So practically crampons. (And they do come with a cute little carrying bag!) </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, they stretched right on over my boots just as they should and amazing they were! Right up the mountain I went… Because, “I must go…”</span></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-54634292894366875702022-02-03T09:29:00.000-08:002022-02-03T09:29:22.792-08:00Naked Without My Bike<p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Trying to leave the house these days seems to be getting more and more challenging. Let’s see… Do I have everything? Pockets check: wallet, phone, mask, another mask… Sweater, hat, gloves? BYOBags… Pants?! Check.</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But sometimes it still feels like something is missing as I walk along the sidewalk… I find this sensation to be particularly strong the day after a long day of riding. My legs longing for that sensation of smooth circular motion. There’s an endless soothing in that pedal stroke that doesn’t translate to walking. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After a few blocks I’ve more or less recalibrated my expectations to the footfalls of walking—especially once I start dreaming up my next ride!</span></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-43141032259453010882022-01-19T13:26:00.000-08:002022-01-19T13:26:58.831-08:00Why Is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?<p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Well anyone who’s been late for a very important date knows about this riddle… But here’s another perspective that also leads us in various directions…</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"> </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was just sitting down at my writing desk (the one with the computer…) with another half cup of tea, when, gazing through the window (the looking glass, nearly), I chanced to see Raven alight on Deodar Cedar across the way… An inspiring moment!</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That moment reminded me that I often rehearse thoughts about writing while out on long rides on my bicycle named, would you believe… Raven! </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, why is a Raven like a writing desk? Well, both Raven (the bike) and the writing desk provide a space and/or opportunity that, while may not be totally free from distraction and/or interruption, at least, helps to guide or focus our thinking toward a certain end… (the end of blogging, as it is still dead...)</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps they allow us to wonder… about a bird… a bike… the land… </span></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-83944681623028677552021-10-07T09:20:00.000-07:002021-10-07T09:20:15.408-07:00The Squeaky Bird<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">We’ve had a lot of good birdwatching around these parts lately. Mostly all the old familiar favorites as they migrate through again. One day I’ll learn their names. For now I’m just happy to see them again—it’s been several months!</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was listening to a particularly sweet sounding trio of little birdies recently on a long stretch of a bike ride. So lovely to hear them again… But, they sound so regular… And are they following me? Oh, it’s my shoe rubbing on my crankarm…</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Days later I heard a squeaking rattle coming up from behind. Clearly, this was some sort of ill tuned vehicle (MM would never sound like that!) So, as I was approaching a winding blind curve that I wanted to take at my own pace, I slowed to let this chortle mobile pass me by… But when I looked back there was no vehicle behind me at all… It was a gaggle of crazy nonsense birds fluttering around through the branches… </span></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-408800533296085522021-09-29T10:03:00.000-07:002021-09-29T10:03:29.168-07:00Let Me Ride<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">(In the parlance of our beloved Beatles:)</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I find myself in times of trouble</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mindful Mule, she comes to me</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Spinning wheels of wisdom</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And in my hour of darkness</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She is track-standing right in front of me</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Spinning wheels of wisdom</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The winds, they whisper wisdom</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And with the broken-transit systems</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The world will come to all agree</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The bike will be the answer</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And if their habits can be parted there is</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Still a chance that they will see</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The bike will be the answer</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yeah, the bike will be the answer</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The winds, they whisper wisdom</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">And when the night is cloudy</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Still that headlight shines for me</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Ride until tomorrow</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">I wake up to the sound of freewheels</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mindful Mule, she comes to me</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Spinning wheels of wisdom</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride, yeah, Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The bike will be the answer</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride, yeah, Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The bike will be the answer</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride, Let me ride, Let me ride, yeah, Let me ride</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The winds, they whisper wisdom</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ride</span></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-19592937537282972192021-09-23T09:52:00.000-07:002021-09-23T09:52:06.247-07:00Enter the Night<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Fall’s arrival has been presenting itself for weeks. It’s the same old slow process, of course, but every year it catches me off guard—It’s getting dark so early, I think. And stepping out in the morning the air is crisper (despite lingering 100 degrees days,) the light sharper—Suddenly it feels like life in the mountains—memories of summers at altitude where the season shift comes earlier, still, than down here in the valley—the coastal plain, really.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I haven’t been riding at night for quite sometime. Well before the pandemic, even, I mostly stopped the practice entirely—preferring to walk, perhaps using the train to get further afield. It was a phase that centered on staying local and safe, and one that will continue some of the time—I certainly do hope to continue with a good amount of walking—I mean, what more human thing could we possibly do! It’s got to be good to get in a few daily miles… </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I’d forgotten about what it feels like to experience the night on the bike—these perfect early Fall evenings when all you need to carry is the lightest of extra clothes… And lights! Light up the night!</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A week ago was my first night ride back. I wasn’t really expecting to be out so long, but as often is the case on these leisurely weekend afternoons, I was. And, not having ridden at night for years I had no lights on the bike. But I had some reflectors (which are so Cool again now that we’re old) and luckily, a light sweatshirt! Which of course I didn’t put on when I started the ride because I was just going about a mile from my friends house and figured, It was a hot afternoon, I’ve been sitting comfortably outside in t-shirt and shorts all afternoon… But then! it hit me—that first, coldest ride of the year, again! It used to happen to me at about this time every year. You think it’s warm, you think it’s Summer… But it’s already Fall, my boy. And the cool evening bicycle-windchill reduces you to shivering. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, in my age-old wisdom I stopped the bike. Put on that light long-sleeve shirt and all was well. Although, without lights—so, little streets, slow speed, ride like an invisible butterfly… a moth, rather. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The forecast for Fall is that it will continue! The forecast for biking: Same! So I dug around in the shed to find and dust off the lights. Amazingly, both front and rear still held a charge! But I recharged them anyway—age-old wisdom… </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The following week, after another lingering afternoon of a similar nature, when I was a little further from home and another friend arrived to extend us into the evening, I didn’t need to worry about a thing—Be Prepared, they say! A prepared, cozy, happy, calm cyclist waltzes through the night… enjoying the breeze… the crickets!!! and the quiet… the evening blossoms… and the Moon! Hello Moon… O! to ride a bicycle through the night again… </span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-1876923060204355672020-12-27T12:12:00.001-08:002020-12-27T12:12:53.106-08:00It’s Not Like Riding a Bicycle<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s like riding a bicycle, as the saying goes. Once you’ve learned to ride a bike you can pretty much pick one up for the rest of your life and make a decent ride of it… Which is true, I suppose… like… in a park or a quiet cul-de-sac…</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But a friend recently asked if he could borrow or buy a bike from me. He’s a runner and a swimmer and is thinking about getting into Triathlon. We’re the same height and I’ve been wanting to get rid of a bike. All good so far. Glad to help. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But despite that old saying it’s really not quite so simple as just riding a bike. I’ve been riding for, like, forever now and I know so much—probably too much. And as a wizened old cyclist I’d happily help this fellow get into biking and share all my knowledge and equipment and recommendations, etc. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But it’s also the pandemic. And how much of that can one really accomplish through text messages without going frustratingly crazy? </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are questions I need to know the answers to. And I can ask them all. But I don’t want to overwhelm or turn him off to riding. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It reminds me of a Northern Exposure episode. I believe it was Marilyn Whirlwind that comes to Chris Stevens to ask for help learning to drive a car. Chris gets really into it and guides her through a full education about the automobile and how it functions and its history, etc. I don’t think they ever even get her behind the wheel. His efforts were all too much. She decides she likes walking. Something like that. At the end of the episode, on Chris’s radio show he sums up his experience by comparing it to someone asking him what time it is and him telling them how to build a clock. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And I worry that I’m overthinking it and doing the same thing with this friend of mine.</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I guess at a certain point we just have to point someone in the right direction and let them find their own path. </span></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-60214871157552571692020-10-04T13:38:00.001-07:002020-10-04T13:38:32.414-07:00Even Cyclists Get the Blues<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">We almost didn't have Le Tour this year. Luckily it was eventually rescheduled... in September! That was weird. And kinda cool. Seeing France at a different time of year was nice. So many of those stages finishing up further into the evening because of the shorter days. So much riding into the sunset... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">But back at home pretty much everything is getting rescheduled, or postponed or cancelled, too. I notice a lot of the regular groups rides are active, although mine is not. I haven't ridden with anyone since the beginning. I've been riding by myself pretty consistently, though. Trouble with that is that I tend to be overly repetitive. So I do the same route every time. At pretty much the same speed and intensity. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The heat is manageable. It's summer. It's normal. But the smoke from the fires is tough. I suppose that's normal summer, too, but it just seems like a lot of them this year. Sometimes we can ride through if the wind is right but seems best to stay close-ish to home in case the wind shifts. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And riding solo all the time is just a little too much. I like riding solo. A lot. But I also like riding with people. And 6 months is a long time without someone to ride with. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And riding solo feels a little more vulnerable. I'm not exactly sure where everyone is driving these days as there's basically nowhere to go but it seems like where ever it is must be of a quite urgent nature as everyone is speeding and impatient. I know. Again, totally normal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe it's just everyone is feeling everything a little more intensely. The stressors aren't subsiding. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And so perhaps we're feeling it too. Perhaps we're feeling a little over squeezed. A little bummed. A little unmotivated. Like, what's the point exactly. What's the point of going out on a ride and dealing with all of that risk. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is meant to be fun and invigorating and relaxing. But it's not so much.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">So we take a break. We probably need it. Fall will develop and bring cooler temperatures at least and the fires will have to stop and we'll find that vaccine and everything will be okay. Maybe not the same. But it will be okay. It will get better than it is right now. This break will give us rest and peace and we will ride again. We will Ride Like the Wind!</span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-25919484256180671512020-09-25T14:28:00.000-07:002020-09-25T14:28:45.129-07:00Why do cyclists shave their legs?<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I had a roommate in school that was a swimmer. That is to say, he was on the swim team. He took his swimming pretty seriously. Maybe he loved the sport. Or maybe it was the scholarship. He shaved his legs to be more streamlined, to swim faster, to place higher.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This was back in the nineties. But even then everyone knew that swimmers shaved their legs to go faster. It was before my leap into the fanatical following of professional cycling. But even then everyone knew that cyclists shaved their legs, too. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A few years later, when he-whose-name-cannot-be-mentioned was winning races and hearts across America and the world, cyclists’ legs were all over the screens - clad in neon Lycra advertisements, deeply tan-lined, glistening, and, well… shaved. Well shaved!</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But why do cyclists shave their legs? </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Originally, we thought it was, like swimmers, to go faster. Reasonable assumption. But probably only the slightest of aerodynamic effect on the hairiest of gents in the peloton. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you’ve watched pro cycling long enough, actually almost any amount of time will do, you’ve likely seen some crashes. Riders are always getting tangled up in each others’ business or coming into a corner too hot. Clearly those Lycra suits are not Kevlar reinforced - providing nary an extra layer of skin’s worth of protection. This is when we learned the term road rash - quickly branded into our minds with graphic images. And then the argument goes that hair and wounds and bandages and infection don’t mix very well if one is planning to finish the stage and then up and ride another several hours on the next stage and the next and next, week after week after tour after tour, all through the season. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And what about massage? It seems these cyclists live quite the life of luxury, if not leisure. Daily massage after each stage. Not so bad! And there’s that massage oil - keeps things slippery. Wouldn’t want hair to get in the way of the relaxing and restorative advantages from the spa.</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then we add in tight clothes and long days in the saddle and friction and one can guess that there are various remedies, tonics, and lubes that must be applied to certain areas of the body. Does shaving help with that application or the reduction of friction? </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Similarly: sunscreen. Whose legs would you rather rub down with sunscreen? I’m not sure a lot of these riders wear much sunscreen though. Did I mention those tan lines?! </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe it’s cooler in hot weather…</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And how often do they shave? It seems a lot of work to shave daily when they’ve already got so much going on in their day… you know, like massage... and dinner and interstage transport… oh, and riding all day! (When do they sleep!)</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And what about amateurs? And the regular weekend warriors? We’ve seen them out there, too… </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And what about their arms… hmm…</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think we can all see now why cyclists shave their legs… Because it’s so damn sexy!</span></span></p>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-6883016934889707632020-07-31T11:15:00.000-07:002020-07-31T11:15:25.142-07:00keep your toes upI've been finding myself tripping on things a bit lately. Mostly it's more like scuffing the ground with my shoes. Only once did I come crashing down to the sidewalk. I was running at the time so momentum was harder to halt. Trying to avoid head butting a palm tree I shimmied left and landed heavily on my elbow and grazed my knee. Concrete is not forgiving!<br />
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But it finally dawned on me as I was walking to the store a few days ago and I again scuffed my shoe on a slight rise in the pavement while crossing the street. My downward peripheral vision has been blocked.<br />
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As annoying as it is to wear a mask (and believe me, it's really annoying to run in one) I didn't realize it was affecting my vision. We tend to look far ahead and as we walk and run. Things underfoot tend to pass magically under us. But it's not magic is it? Some part of our brain is still paying attention to that lower field of view.<br />
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Interestingly, I don't trip when I'm walking home from the library and start reading a new book on the way. Maybe that creates such an obvious distraction to my vision that I'm paying closer attention, consciously and subconsciously, both.<br />
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So I've been trying to focus on keeping my toes up so as not to trip so much. And my knees up. And my eyes up... And my spirits up!mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-39633551303685057952020-03-30T12:19:00.000-07:002020-03-30T12:19:00.338-07:00Vidal Sassoon and the Ruination of My HipsSometime in the early Eighties I had a pair of jeans that I really loved. I wore them all the time and since I was still a little kid I even wore holes in the knees the old fashioned way - by doing kid stuff on the floor, ground, in the garden, crashing bikes and roller skates and all that... There was a narrow metal copper-colored label riveted to one of the back pockets. I think it just read: Sassoon. Were they hand-me-downs from my sister? Or was I really so chic?<br />
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Sometime toward the end of their useful life - my mom was not a holey jean fan - something shifted in me. Maybe it was the early stages of becoming a man, of noticing that girls walked differently from boys. And maybe it was something about those sexy slim-fitting jeans that prompted me to notice that I was still walking with a pronounced swing in my hips. Like a girl. Well I had to put a stop to that immediately. I remember consciously focusing on not moving my hips while I walked. Social pressures ensured that I kept up my diligent training and before long I was walking straight ahead at all times. No more swing.<br />
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But that's not a very natural way to walk. Even for a man. It forces all kinds of straight-legging that shuts free flow down and stiffens up almost every join from head to toe. It turns one into a board. After years and decades that board-body is no longer going to be able to do much of anything but peg-leg up to the bar like a cowboy - something my childhood self would have been delighted to attain.<br />
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I wasn't ever a ballerina or anything so it all worked out okay... for a while. But then I started running. And running and running and running and over the years started focusing on form and how to improve stride and pace and efficiency and speed. Across the decades I've come to believe that none of that focus on form was going anywhere until I got to the root of the problem. Cowboys don't run.<br />
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I can't and don't blame Vidal for this. If anything, he showed me the way all those years ago and I just chose to ignore him. Actually, now, if anything, I should thank him and those jeans because now I have a point of memory that I can go back to. If I can just imagine myself wearing those jeans again and walking like I used to when I was a kid and being willing to roll around and move freely like a real human animal then maybe I can bring some of that swing and twist and freedom back into my gait - to my hamstrings and glutes and hips and back and neck and mind! Freedom at last to run freely through the world as goddess intended!mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-39798325252816654922020-01-30T09:19:00.000-08:002020-01-30T09:19:40.940-08:00keeping track<span style="font-family: inherit;">As cyclists, as runners, as people, I suppose, we keep track of things. So many miles recorded. Or, distance, anyway, I should say. Some of us keep track of other things, too. Number of rides in a month. Average heart rate trends. Minutes per mile. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I tend to total up each week, and then each month, and then each year, and then start over. I've never totaled all the years. That would be a lot. I'm not sure it would really be useful information for me. A few decades? A few times around a globe. But not really around the world, around the Earth. Around town... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I got to the end of last month a totaled it up, as I do, and then went straight on to the next month. I hardly even gave that yearly total a second thought. We kind of have a sense of that as we go along anyway. Each day's schedule becomes fairly predictable as it rolls into the week's which rolls along and along... Some shifting here and there but mostly staying the course. </span><br />
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I wouldn't say it's pointless, though. Keeping track becomes part of the process. A daily connection, a checking in. Sometimes even a motivator in it's own right.<br />
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Of course, these days, there's Apps that will do it all for you. "They'll" even send you a message at the end of the year with all your stats all tallied and graphed. Some stats that you might not even have known were being tracked. Who needs a pencil and a log? What's a log? What's a WebLog... LOL. Wink, wink... Who knows anymore...<br />
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I like my App stats, though. And my App friends. And I'll keep them. But I think I'll keep my pencils, too. And the process. The sharpening of the pencil, even. Journaling the day in micro poems of distance or route or people along the way...<br />
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Sweeping the path, chopping the wood, carrying the water... moments into moments...mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-70940957171445518902019-11-18T14:50:00.003-08:002019-11-18T14:51:27.310-08:00Red Tail Invited Ground Squirrel for Brunch<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-kerning: none;">One day Red Tail invited Ground Squirrel for brunch. Ground Squirrel was very excited. She had known many friends who had been invited to brunch by Red Tail in the past. They had never returned so she assumed it must be the most lavish brunch in the clouds that one would never want to leave. So she happily accepted Red Tail’s invitation. “I’ll meet you under the Lemonade Berry Bush at 10am sharp,” Red Tail instructed. Ground Squirrel could hardly sleep that night as she stayed up thinking about all the lovely seeds and nuts and refreshing herbs that would be spread across Red Tail’s table. And she was also really looking forward to catching up with all her old friends. Ground Squirrel was bright eyed and bushy tailed the next morning when she showed up early to wait for Red Tail. He showed up casually late as if he really didn’t care much. “Curl up into my talons and I will carry you to my brunch,” he rather gruffly squawked at Ground Squirrel. Just as she was rather uncomfortably settled into his talons Red Tail began to flap his powerful wings and they slowly began to rise through the branches of the Lemonade Berry. Just as they had broken free from the last rustling leaves Old Man came running down the arroyo past them. All were quite startled for a moment. Even Red Tail lost his normal cool and his grip on Ground Squirrel. As she fell a few feet back down to earth she suddenly had a flash of enlightenment. She was for brunch! She quickly spun around and scurried straight back into her burrow under the Lemonade Berry. Her heart wouldn’t calm down for quite sometime and she wasn’t even hungry anymore. She decided that from then on she would abide by her name and stay on the ground…</span></div>
mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-56977269560683222722019-11-14T11:29:00.000-08:002019-11-14T11:29:53.356-08:00Tour of Cal No MoreSo the news is out there that the Tour of California week-long professional bicycle stage race will not be returning for the year of 2020 which in my mind puts it at extreme rick of never occurring at some future date.<br />
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It's a bit sad and surprising. It seemed to be well attended and sponsored. And there were some great stages over the years.<br />
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A couple of favorite stages that come to mind were both seen in person. It's still the only bicycle race I've ever seen from the ground. I remember George Hincapie crushing it on a breakaway on several loops around the Rose Bowl which also included a climb up and out and back in, I think up Holly St somehow. That was some great hard fought racing! I think that was the first race I ever saw.<br />
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And then one year a stage started right here in town. Which was lot's of fun. Mission Street was closed off all morning with all the team cars and bikes lined up for viewing and general swag and excitement all around. I even pulled my daughter out of school early that morning so we could soak in all things cycling for a brief moment. She was in Pre-K at the time so really big deal, I know! I wonder if she'll remember that.<br />
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In recent years I've felt a little overwhelmed with riding the mountain roads around here because of all the speeding cars and motorcycles. It hasn't felt safe up there on a bicycle for a long time but I do love those roads and those mountains. And that was one of the amazing side effects of Tour of Cal - it closed off roads to cars for the racers but fans on bicycles could still head up early before the race and enjoy the mountains car free - oh, and sure, the race... I'm realizing now that I didn't take nearly enough advantage of that loophole...mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-8344312081627368972019-11-07T11:18:00.001-08:002019-11-07T11:18:35.251-08:00sneak up on opportunitiesWhen I was a kid, like, in my teens, I liked to work on cars. Tinkering, turning bolts, fixin' stuff... but mostly just hangin' around with other car people... There was an older guy, probably in his sixties or seventies back then, whose house we'd frequently hang out at - there were always a least a few old cars in various stages of repair lined up in his driveway.<br />
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He'd been fixin' stuff his whole life it seemed and pretty much new all the answers to our questions even if he usually tried to hold back his opinions and let us figure it out on or own. He mostly just sat around in a folding lawn chair nearby and drank. There's a certain kind of clinking sound that ice makes on those hard plastic tumbler glasses and that sound still reminds me of him. We called him Chuck. Not his real name. Not changed here for privacy, that's just what we called him.<br />
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To give you an idea of his ways, we were once trying to figure out why one particular car kept leaking oil on the ground. Chuck didn't tell us what was likely to be the source of the problem but rather suggested we just pour the oil straight on to his driveway instead of into the engine - "Avoid the middleman," he laughed and laughed...<br />
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And his advice for those tough to loosen stuck bolts, "Well, you gotta sneak up on 'em, ya see... Don't let that bolt know what you're up to until - Wham!" And, you know what, it often works.<br />
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And in that same way, we've sometimes got to sneak up on those moments in our day when we can get out and do our thing - whatever that thing might be... a run, a blog post... Things can't always be planned and scheduled. Sometimes we gotta just say, Hey, I've got a few moments here all of a sudden and - Wham! Get out there...mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-42977592839782765622019-10-31T10:44:00.000-07:002019-10-31T10:44:28.685-07:00smokey seasonThere's wildfires burning all over the state. Again. Some of them are even fairly close to Mindful Mule. Within a couple dozen miles. They've been burning now for a couple of weeks I'd guess. It's been very dry. Like 5% humidity on some afternoons. And it was pretty hot a few days ago. 97 degrees. This morning it was down around 44 degrees. Amazingly, if it weren't for all the news reports I'd have little idea that anything was even going on through all of this. There have been slightly gustier winds but nothing too significant. But today there is an obviously strong presence of smoke in the air. So much that I'm trying my best to stay inside. The fires haven't gotten any closer. I guess the wind has just shifted a little bit. Bringing the smoke my way. There Air Quality Index is still hovering down at around 50. Which is really not too bad. Given the strong smell of smoke I would imagine the AQI to be much higher. It's a very heavy air out there. It seems unhealthy. I wonder if maybe smoke doesn't directly affect the AQI reading. It should register as a particulate at least. There's been a lot of talk about the Santa Ana winds that are driving the flames. There's always a lot of talk about The Santa Anas. I've heard about these winds for as long as I can remember - for life. They've been a big part of that life, too. A long current of natural connection. They even burned down Brown Mountain ten years ago. Remember that?! And yet they feel like home. If the Santa Anas picked up a bit they'd blow the smoke away from me and Mule and we could get on with things. But they would also fan the flames downwind of here and extend the fire threat to others. It's very still out there right now. So I'll just stay put and sniff around some more. Maybe write you all a little note...mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-3931271859921534342019-06-04T10:44:00.001-07:002019-06-04T10:44:16.773-07:00Friends Don’t Let Friends Wear Sheer Bibs And Other Adventures in Lycra<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes we become overly attached to our garments. Perhaps an old t-shirt from that trail race back in Aught Seven with the sweet multicolor silkscreen logo… a pair of comfortable shoes that walked with us all over this earth… or our first pair of cycling bibs! We just can’t seem to throw them out and don’t really even want to stop wearing them despite their faded, ripped, stained, holey condition. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It took me a long time to come to cycling bibs. Lycra shorts, sure. They’re comfortable for long spirited rides. Those have been with me for decades. (I like that I can pretty much throw the word decades into any conversation these days…) But as I don’t wear suspenders with my pants—let alone my shorts!—it never quite made sense to use them for my cycling, which is kinda sorta what bibs are, although to a much sexier level—you can tell already I’ve been turned… But one day a trusted riding friend was adamant about their advantages and so I thought I’d give them a try… And they are great. And sexy! But that’s not what this post is about…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We become attached to our things. We like to keep wearing them. They’re cool or comfortable or maybe we don’t want to throw down a hundred bucks to replace them… </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Have you ever been riding behind someone, though, and they seem to be wearing one of their old favorite shorts or bibs that have developed a certain amount of thinning of the fabric so that you are more or less just looking at their butt? Mostly just the top half of the buttocks as the chamois pad will always block vision into the lower depths. But there is clearly a cleavage thing happening that in certain angles of light may be more pronounced. I see it pretty frequently. I’ve grown more or less immune to it. I mean, it’s just a butt. And really, a cyclist’s butt at that and so often times a pretty nice butt! If you don’t want to look at it just ride faster…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But. Then there’s also the coffee stops and such. Again, not a big problem if you’re encircled by your riding crew. But if you’re alone or still waiting on the crew’s arrival or at the edge of Le Peloton de Cafe (not really a phrase) and seated next to a non-cyclist, a non-understander of the culture of a crew of old men that find it okay to ride around looking at each other’s butts… well, then, sometimes a certain insecurity arrises. A wondering. Have I worn these bibs too far? Am I offending that family breakfast over there? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So my suggestion to the cycling crew is to be in communication with each other. It’s okay to tell your friend that maybe it’s time to throw down that hundred bucks… </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">And anyway, a nice fresh pair of bibs feels really great!</span></div>
mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-29758972642380824242019-04-04T10:55:00.000-07:002019-04-04T10:55:46.743-07:00PermaGrinAs with most things in life our dedication to riding can ebb and flood. (Why isn't that the saying?) Numerous contributing factors account for this - season, sleep, injury, stress, busy-busy-busy, training, et cetera. But for those of us that actually like riding, love it even, it's sometimes harder to tell the difference between excitement and monotony. Joy&Suffering. War&Peace. Grin&Grimace.<br />
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Anyone who's watched a little of the pro cycling season is familiar with announcers commonly commenting about a stone-faced rider, not giving up any indication to their competitors about whether they are about to shoot out for a breakaway or are just hanging on by a thread and hoping not to get dropped.<br />
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And if you think about it, this all sort of makes sense for anyone that does a lot of riding. Regularly riding to the tops of mountains, for instance, requires some determination, some grit, some amount of pain even if it is chosen and enjoyable - dancing on that line between Suffering&Struggle. Is it a grimace on the way up and a grin at the top? At what point do they slowly fade from one to the other? Done enough times and even the rider will stop noticing the difference - think of them the same way. Start grinning at suffering.<br />
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On good days there's that moment. A moment we sometimes have to wait for for some time. Like waiting for spring, for our injuries to heal, for our rides to get longer, for the sun to finally shine through the gloom... for that solo ride where your legs just want to spin forever and your lungs seem only to be continuously breathing in... and all of a sudden you feel it... you're smiling! You're having fun! Enjoying! Joy&Peace&Grin!mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-61452170241189319132019-03-28T10:55:00.001-07:002019-03-28T10:55:25.144-07:00Forward Ho!<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't want to open up a whole other conversation about the use of turn signals, and lack thereof, and how incredibly relevant they are to proper road flow, but there is one somewhat unusual element of it that keeps popping up for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There's a road that circles the Rose Bowl stadium in Pasadena. It's a loop with a few feeder roads coming in and out of it. The loop encloses a fairly large area, as in addition to the stadium and relatively limited-seeming car parking area, there is also a golf course where during stadium events the extra/overflow (perhaps the majority of) cars are parked. The loop road is 3.1 miles around. Which makes it perfect for several 5K run/walk events to be held there every year. The road planners couldn't possibly have intended that but it works out quite nicely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The loop is used daily by many people. Walkers, runners, bikers, primarily. And rollerblading seems to be making a meager comeback. I guess the attraction for all these people is that it's a somewhat social, safe place to go and get some nice views of the San Gabriel Mountains and people watch and maybe a central enough place to meet one's friends. And while it's not exactly car traffic free there is somewhat of an easing of the mental effort required to navigate along normal city streets. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Three miles is a pretty long walk. I imagine most people walk one lap. It's a great distance for a run and, depending on what you're into, one or two laps can be great. Three miles on a bike is pretty easy. So multiple laps are required if you're going to get much out of it. I've done my fair share of mind numbing multiple laps there before. Turn off brain - spin. Endless clockwise loops. You'll never be able to remember how many laps you've made. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And so many cyclists do this loop around and around and around that every single car drivers knows exactly where every cyclist is going to go... Or they think they know. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">(Even the cops! I've been stopped on my bike by a cop there as they were preparing to close the loop down to "recreational use" in order to clear the area for a Rose Bowl event. He said, "You have to turn around and go back to your car." LOL. Car?!) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But not every cyclist is riding laps. Sometimes a cyclist is just passing through the area to get to somewhere else. Which brings me to my point. Imagining the loop as a clock face in which riders are moving clockwise, at about the 10 o'clock there is a right turn to stay on the loop. Every ridder takes it - almost! But one can also go straight ahead there and leave the loop to go elsewhere in the world - anything to avoid riding around in circles... At this same intersection there is a stop sign for vehicles coming from the 11 o'clock - counter clockwise. But no stop sign for vehicles turning right or going straight forward. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, a car stops at the stop sign. No turn is indicated. The car can only go left or right. Which is it? The driver looks left. Sees an approaching vehicle. The operator of the vehicle (a bicycle it may be but a vehicle it still is!) has not indicated a turn. Therefore, is continuing straight forward. However, the driver of the car at the stop sign knows that every bicycle turns right to continue on the Rose Bowl Loop. Assumes the approaching bicycle/vehicle is turning right. Pulls directly in front of said vehicle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, I, as the operator of the approaching vehicle, signal straight ahead. I am leaving the Rose Bowl loop on my bicycle - going off the clock, so to speak. But there is no official hand signal for that. I point straight ahead - forward. Sometimes I point slightly upward and ahead as there is a short steep hill that rises out and away from the loop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Actually I've taken to doing a lot of pointing anyway when I use hand turn signals. Hopefully it helps people understand. I don't know. I only know that I generally feel ridiculous sitting up tall on my saddle and pointing straight ahead as if an alien spaceship is landing I want everyone to see or as if reenacting the crossing of the Delaware... </span>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-9883804769978624422019-03-18T14:53:00.003-07:002019-03-18T14:53:46.560-07:00t-shirt communications<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s early on a bright, sunny Monday morning and I’m out for my regular easy run up and down the street. I’m stopped, waiting to cross the intersection by the new coffee shop. I’ve pressed the pedestrian button to trip the traffic signal so I can cross the street but I’m looking around, checking out the new shop and the woman walking toward me on the sidewalk with her little fluffy dog. Maybe I’m holding my glance at her a little too long. I’m trying to figure her out. She’s wearing a green t-shirt. It’s got the logo from the Irish pub across the street. Is she somehow affiliated with the pub? I’ve never seen her in there before but she looks vaguely familiar. Wait. It’s the day after St. Patrick’s Day. Has she been out all night? She doesn’t seem the type… but what do I know. I turn to face the street. My light will be turning soon… </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“That must be a tough race! Did you win?” she quips. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me. Why is she talking to me? Oh, she’s commenting on my shirt. I take a quick glance down to the logo on the front of my shirt because out of the dozen or so race t-shirts I have crammed into my drawer at home I really have no idea which one I’m wearing. I really never do. I don’t care. It’s not a statement. It’s a free shirt (just pay the exorbitant race fee!). They’re wicking and light and other than the fact that they smell like hell before you even put them on I still wear them. They function well enough - sort of. There’s a blue mule printed on my chest. I do a quick scan of my remaining brain matter. Ah. Mt. Wilson Trail Race. Don’t remember which year. Doesn’t matter. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh. No. I did not win… very steep up there!” I respond, trying to be somewhat cheery for this St. Patty, while at the same time hoping that the conversation will end, because, although I’ve turned now and am no longer facing the street but my new companion, I’m sure my light has changed and I’d like to cross and continue my run - my heart rate is dropping like a brick! And what was it that I was just thinking about before I got to this intersection… another lost blog post! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think she kind of gets it. But as she’s waking away, now crossing the train tracks with her puppy-doodle, she actually offers out some surprisingly genuine trail knowledge. “I’ll bet! I used to take the Girl Scouts up there…” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Ah! Okay! Thanks!” I say. Or some such words. She keeps going her way. I turn to check the light. It has changed for me. I can still make it across. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A few blocks further along I recall the lost blog post - not a very good one - not even a title - just a topic, a sensation… Why are my calves sore? I read something about trying to engage one’s glutes to help alleviate stress on the calves… how exactly does one do that, again? But that’s already lost its interest for me. So my calves are sore. Probably from the big weekend. All I want to know now is how did she get that t-shirt… and how can I get one?!</span></span></div>
mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-1040270384449277212019-03-14T09:46:00.000-07:002019-03-14T09:46:14.446-07:00Underwear and How to Wear It (Part II)<span style="font-family: inherit;">And now for an epiphany twenty-five years in the making. In part one of this thread, if I recall, I haven't bothered to reread it, LOL, I essentially relayed the pro (read: amateur) tip about wearing ones underwear inside-out. A great tip. It does help. But something still wasn't quite complete. Something has been nagging at me. I kept thinking about underwear. And running shorts. And why do they have that liner? An extra layer to trap heat that no runner needs except maybe in the depths of a SoCal winter. So I thought about cutting it out. I'm a fan of altering ones clothing to fit ones needs. I do it with my running shirts all the time, or, I should say, to almost all of them. I cut off all the hems around the neck and sleeves and waistline. It's in a post. "It's down there somewhere." But not without careful thought. Always with careful thought, the cutting. But I just couldn't get myself to cut out the liner in my shorts. Why is it there? Why is it always there? I kept asking myself while staring at the ceiling as I lay awake through the middle of the night wishing I could just get out and go for a run like a lunatic a two-thirty in the morning. (Hashtag: Way of the future?) Finally it came to me. I'm not sure why this took me so long to approach. I mean, I've been running my entire adult life. And I'm getting pretty old! I'm totally half way through. Is this my midlife crisis? Well, I hope so. Because it's going to be a whole lot cheaper than a red Porsche convertible and the complications that would arise from its Barbie-esc accompaniment. And it will save You money too! All will benefit and stay cooler through this revving up summer season. So here it is. Underwear and How to Wear It. Don't. Just don't. What do you think that liner is for?! I mean, two pairs of underwear? Isn't that a little extravagant? So now you'll save money because you can stop buying thirty dollar running underwear. And be less stinky! And run cooler! You might feel a little like a pervert for the first few runs. But you'll get used to it...</span>mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-14162872108347873822019-01-20T10:36:00.004-08:002019-01-20T10:36:50.469-08:00Sunglasses are so cool… Or are they? (Part II)<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Having previously determined that sunglasses are not nearly as cool as we give them credit for, I’ll move on now to the flip side of this, as usual, counterintuitive storyline. Cool, cloudy, wettish days are when sunglasses really shine. Because they keep the skin around your eyes blocked from the cold wind and therefore give you the impression that you’re not so cold. And as we’ve likely all learned by now it’s all about our impressions of this world. Our minds rule our world. If we can tweak some minor sensory inputs that factor into these impressions, these perceptions then we expand the limits of what our mind will allow. We may only be talking about micro adjustments here, marginal gains, in the parlance of our times… but more and more I’m starting to believe that the difference between feeling good on a run and feeling like crap can be ever so slight, if not even the same but with a different perspective. As in running, in cycling, in life… put on those rose-colored glasses (or take them off or whatever) and enjoy these moments just a little longer, fuller, faster… a little more…</span></span></div>
mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284583805508577681.post-69163610486318429052019-01-16T09:18:00.000-08:002019-01-16T09:19:30.959-08:00when locals disappear<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are a few riders that I frequently see passing by on my street. I know them well as riders only. I don’t know their names or where they live except that I assume (perhaps wrongly) based on their regular presence that they are from somewhere fairly nearby. Although, my street is a common throughway for many people on foot and bikes and cars so they may live far away. But to me they are the local riders. I know each one of them by their style and posture and cadence as they’re coming up or down the street long before I could possibly recognize their faces. And, actually, if I were to be standing next to one of them in, let’s say, the checkout line at the grocery store, I’m quite sure I’d have no idea who they were unless they happened to be wearing their full kit. But still they are my locals—people I look out for—my friends, if only imaginary… </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Which is all well and good (having imaginary friends—they’re so easy to deal with!) But in cycling things take a twist. We hear stories, read the news about, know people who… let’s say, didn’t come back from their ride. And so we worry. We worry when we haven’t seen one of the locals for a while. We hope they’re just taking some time off… nursing an overuse injury… taking another route these days… or maybe they moved to Portland… We hope they’re okay. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And so it is with great joy that when, after what seems like months have passed, we see them again, riding by, looking more or less the same and unharmed… we want to jump up and wave and call out and hug them! But they don’t know me and I don’t know them and maybe they’ve never even seen me on my bike—maybe I’ve never ridden past their house. So I can’t—we can’t. But, to all those local cyclists, my friends, please remember when you’re out there that I am looking out for you, that we are looking out for each other… and please try to remember to ride by my place once in a while! </span></span></div>
mindful mulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351688583487129714noreply@blogger.com4