
Listening to cyclists' stories about their first long or difficult rides, I often hear things like "Afterward, I wanted to throw my bike away" or "The next day, I couldn't even look at my bike."
It always struck me as interesting how the feelings of pain and exhaustion caused by riding can become associated with the bike itself. In a sense, it is easier to think of the bike, a concrete object, as the source of our discomfort than it is of a deficiency in fitness or endurance on our part.We look at the bike and remember how we felt during that hard ride.It's not so much that we literally blame the bicycle, as that the bike becomesa signifier of the pain and exhaustion we experienced. That feeling of wanting to throw it out, or not wanting to look at it, is a way of dealing with frustration over our own limitations.And of course this is in addition to the possibility that the bike itself is at least partly to blame - be it through saddle discomfort, harshness of ride, inappropriate gearing, or bad positioning.
If only mildly, I have had my share of all this. I've overdone it before, to the point of fatigue at the mere sight of a bike that only time away from it could cure.
But I am thinking of this now, because more recently I've experienced something of the opposite. Still feeling battered and drained after an especially tough ride, the morning after I walked past the bike and thought about how much I loved it, and about how much I loved cycling. It was an unexpected reaction, having tumbled out of bed feeling as if a train had run over me. After a day of passion and heartbreak, it feels good to still love it all, and to want to ride again tomorrow.
Lara-Karena Kellogg (formerly Lara-Karena Bitenieks) died Monday evening while climbing Mt. Wake in the Alaska Range. Some of you may have known Lara from her years as a climbing ranger and member of our Mt. Rainier search and rescue team. But w
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Since we came home, instead of leaning over to pick up seashells on the beach, I’ve been picking up pecans by the bucketful from the ground under the pecan trees. Some nuts were undeveloped, shed by the trees in response to the drought, some were bitten, half-eaten and thrown around by the squirrels. I don’t think the trees themselves are in danger, since the leaves are green. These trees did the same thing last September - in the middle of the night we were wakened over and over by a hearing a thunk on the roof, followed by a rolling sound, then a thud as the nut hit the ground. It was unnerving at first, but it eventually became one of those comfortable, usual, recognizable sounds – your brain just says, ‘Pecan falling’ and lets you stay sleep.
... Both lilies grew for years in large deck pots, where they developed into multiple bulbs. Once we moved here, the bulbs were planted in the ground, but the tags were lost and the individual bulbs were mixed up. Whatever the name, I'm thrilled to see it bloom!