Recalibration

My 2010 “racing season” is over. I am not sure that it really involved any “racing” or that I would call it a “season” anyway. The reason I enter these races is to have a goal to work towards, to push myself to stay in shape. If I have a “race” on my schedule, I then have a “training program,” and I am less likely to find excuses to go home and sit on the couch. I am incredibly slow in any athletic event I have ever undertaken, so I usually think about “participating” in these events and not racing or competing. With no competitive events on the horizon, I have been spending time doing what I love to do – riding my bike -- without regard to mileage or speed. I have been emancipated! This has me rethinking my whole "fitness" philosophy. Perhaps it is time to recalibrate. How can I keep myself motivated to maintain an athletic lifestyle? do I need an event to keep moving forward? what if training starts to feel more like medicine than fun? While I think this through, I will continue to spend time on my bike and smile! I might even take a few pictures along the way.

Where were you in 1969?

On Friday, DH and I went up to Bethel NY to visit the "Woodstock" museum. We made sure to go on a day there was no show so we could spend time there without any crowds or difficulty getting in and out on the infamous Rt 17B. It was fabulous. The museum does a great job balancing the culture of the '60s that paved the way for Woodstock, the multiple story lines from those magical days in 1969, and the impact on the world. The photos and video are awesome. We drove up and back listening to the soundtrack and bought a copy of the original movie. Neither DH nor I were there, but we still both felt the energy when we walked across that field. Peace and music. What a great concept.
Staying true to the "where were you in 1969" theme, the next day I drove up to Sylvan Lake to a reunion of my childhood summer friends. We spent summers at the same bungalow colony complete with day camp, color wars, talent shows, musical theatre, boyfriends and girlfriends, little brothers and sisters, pinball machines, kickball, rowboats, etc. There were about 10 of us. Some of these people I have not seen for 35-40 years. There was alot of catching up to do! We sat under the same tree that shaded our mothers. We look like our mothers! It was strange-- we are becoming our mothers and yet we could see ourselves doing what we did as kids as if it was yesterday. But it was wonderful to reconnect and make new memories.

Drop Tail Bibs

A couple of months ago the bicycle club had a fashion show. One of the women modeled her Pearl Izumi drop-tail bibs. Folks who do wear bibs have told me that they are much more comfortable than plain shorts, especially on longer rides because you don't have a waistband cutting into your middle. I have never worn cycling bibs, because you have to get almost naked if you have to pee. But these "designed for women" cycling bibs feature a "trap door." The bib is hinged in the back, with a tail that tucks in to make sure you are covered while riding. I decided to purchase a pair and I wore them today. And I am going to wear them tomorrow. And I might have to buy another pair. They are super comfortable and my trips to the ladies room were accomplished as easily as advertised. The bib straps are super stretchy so I hardly noticed them on my shoulders or across my sports bra. Not having a waistband is more comfortable, and the elastic gripper legs have "just right" tension. They are a little pricey, but I'm very glad I bought them. My sisters (of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Bike Shorts) are going to be jealous!

Today was a beautiful summer day and I enjoyed a beautiful bike ride. So glad to be back on my bike.

Let the Good Times Roll

DH and I are home after spending a long weekend in Lancaster County PA with a group of our cycling club friends. This is what we did: eat, ride, drink, eat some more, sleep, then repeat this sequence. It was gobs of fun. Flori's shirt says it all: let the good times roll indeed! This marked my return to the saddle and it was just about perfect. Lancaster County is the heart of Amish country, so we were riding on roads through beautiful farmlands and small towns. Yesterday DH offered to ride with me since most of the slower riders either had to head home or decided to find something else to do. Our hotel was in Paradise and we rode to Intercourse. So, you would think Amish dogs would be very mellow, kinda trot around bark at the chickens, take a nap. DH was riding ahead of me, and we pass this Amish farmhouse with 2 small dogs in the front yard. The dogs kinda watched DH ride by, and when I rode past them, they both start barking and coming for me at full speed! One of those Amish dogs wouldn't quit, and I kept thinking about sharp little teeth. The little fucker finally gave up. When were a safe distance away, I looked at DH, and asked him why they ignored him and came after me. "It's because they could tell you are weak." I reminded him that the plan was to return to Paradise from Intercourse. He quickly changed his mind and admitted that the dogs must have been attracted to my shiny new silver cycling shoes.