Oh the Facebook of it All

An interaction on Facebook has me all worked up this morning. A friend made a complaint, and friends chimed in with shared frustration. The drivers who weren't actually experiencing the interaction were jumping to anger over the reality that bicycles are occupying space on the road. Here's what I'm thinking. I want to resurrect the human status of cyclists by sharing my experience, and also recall the legality of the choice. 

{Did I mention I ride bikes? You guys know this because you're here and probably got here because you know me personally or you ride bikes. Not everyone agrees with my choices, but we can at least civilly disagree.}

When a driver and I disagree about a lane use issue. The exchange is typically punctuated by honking. Sure, that's predictable, but I invite you to an experiment. Try this. Set your 3 year old in the driver seat of your car, obviously not running or in any way powered on. Just set the child in front of the steering wheel's horn button. Now, go stand in front of the car facing the same direction of the vehicle with it behind you. Wait, and then see what happens. 

Often in-motion lane use arguments are much more brutal: A bus driver passes and tips my helmet with the mirror of the bus, nearly spilling me into a rash of poison ivy in the culvert of the road. The mini van mama screams obscenities through an open window while honking and cutting into the lane in front of me to turn right. A one-ton truck driver discards the remnants of a fast food drink, including cup, and then accelerates heavily to leave me in a puff of exhaust. All of these examples have happened to me this year. Everyday I ride my bike, I have an encounter like this.

Please pause and think about the last time you were walking and somebody threw a drink cup at you, screamed obscenities, or just straight up hit you. What was that like for you?

It happens to me every single day that I ride my bike. My humanity wants me to believe this type of interaction isn't normal and doesn't characterize the morality of the individual. I try to lift the interaction out of the well by responding with a super-big smile and wave, "Have a good day!"

(Would you shoot a person who is smiling and waving? It's my only defense on my 20-lb bicycle against a 3,500lb vehicle.)

This is a real fear. Regularly, cyclists are physically assaulted. A driver has pulled a gun on me while riding my bike. I happened to have been pregnant at the time.

People who ride bikes are people. In my case, I'm a mom of three kids. I manage a team of engineers for a major corporation. I also teach yoga for peace, and math to little kids. I pay taxes on my car, my home, and my income. 

When I ride my bike, I am not trying to take anything from you. I'm trying to get to work. When I ride in a peloton, I am not trying to prevent you from using the road. I'm getting a workout. Any delay you experience will likely be short, and I appreciate you waiting until it is safe to pass. 

Why yes, that is a vacuum cleaner in my pannier.

Yesterday my friend said to me, "Are you ok then? I worry about you." 

It dawned on me that I've created this victim persona of myself with her. That identity does not give me comfort. I never dreamed my ex-husband would do the things he has done, but that is not me. I am not living the prescribed life that my family or former friends would like for me, but I am me. I am not a victim. I am not what has happened to me. 

Alertness set in on me early this morning, my whole body filled with inspiration. Yesterday's sickness and fever linger, and it is 26 degrees. I have to get in to the office to remove a mural I painted a few weeks back. My thoughts grappled with each other: drive or bike this morning? 

I remembered a movie, 180 deg South. I lusted after the responsibility-free life of these climbers. These guys did everything to climb, surf, and sail. They gave up the things I define as success on a hunt for a thrill. Hey self: slow down there, Judgy McJudgerstein. They aren't less than human any more than you are or anybody is. Hell, they have a movie. This is their path. What's yours?

"If you set out on a journey to affect some kind of physical to spiritual gate and you compromise the process along the way, and you’re an asshole when you start then you’ll be an asshole when you finish” ~180 deg South

This is how I find myself packing a vacuum cleaner into pannier bags and donning the ski gear intended for yesterday's non-trip to Wintergreen mountain. It isn't because a sickness happened to me, but because the backside of pain is experience. Experience is life, and life is beautiful.

In no particular order I present to you, dear Universe, my goals:

• Ride the divide from Banff to Fort Collins
• Lose sight of shore for long enough that it becomes a new normal
• Build a product and company that serves the greater good
• Raise up some childrens (ya'll)
• Keeping working a handstand until it breaks my bones

Jump Track

Adventures on a Friday included:

1. Cake for breakfast
2. Jump track

But what is our gang sign?

In two separate pregnancies, I imagined twin daughters. Instead, these two smart, handsome boys charmed my life. They fight with the worst of them, but they also have lifelong, built-in buddies. The sun was shining on us today.

In the Quiet in the Dark

I have a confession. Today I rode my bike for the second time in many months. Yes. Only two times in maybe three or four months, and one was last week. Life has thrown me some fast balls and some curve balls, and I'm holding on to keep up with all of the action. I made it - the miles are mine again.

Last week I found myself scared on the way home. I was well-dressed for the weather, and lit up like a rolling Christmas tree with all my lights. I didn't understand my own reaction, except to say we are close to the winter solstice and light is scarce. I was easily startled. Maybe it was because the shadows on a trail move faster than you expect when rolling through the dark.

I did a repeat tonight to test myself. My phone blared music while I bounded through miles of greenway in the night. About the time Bruce Springsteen came on, I caught my groove. The song reminded me of the nights in high school when we would drive out to the swamp with the windows down to listen to the croak of the alligators.

Can't wait for daylight savings to end!

My People

This is post-Fat adventures. Before this picture the scene was different.

It started when I told my daughter that I was ok with skipping it this year. I wasn't feeling it, didn't want to get out, etc. She was justifiably shocked. This is my favorite event and all. She didn't go crazy or anything, just restated her enthusiasm. That's all it took. You can see one child still wearing his Fred Flinstone tie and baby girl wearing her Betty Rubble get up.  We kind of rocked that Flinstones gig. I was happier for going.

So, when this photo happened, I was totes stoked for reals. Yo.