It's all about The Dirt:

Okay, I have “gym phobia”, or an aversion to participating in any group class that is contained inside a building with stifled air. I began to examine why, so I go back into my 20’s (it doesn’t feel like that long ago) when “Flashdance”, aerobics and Madonna were hip and happenin’.

Traveling down my checkered past, I stumble upon an old life of “the gym”, or rather “the club”. First of all, it was necessary to have the hottest lookin’ outfit, as if it was a modeling runway of sorts: The leotard, the pants, the latest and greatest aerobic shoes, and the bang hairdo with a scrunchie. “The club” was a full-on 80’s style, nightclub gym. Complete with flashing lights, mirrors everywhere, carpeting pieced together in bright swirls, hip-hop music, bar and extremely attractive people everywhere. I always thought the overweight folks who cared to join had a LOT of guts being surrounded by the Barbie-doll women and buff, Ken-men. It was a real, live “meat market”.

All this was such a vanity world that I never realized I was a part of. The striving for perfection was oozing out of the walls, and I made that my home away from home? Six to seven days a week, I would pour my sweat out for a 30 min. warm-up on the stairmaster, feeling like it was a never-ending effort on steps to nowhere. Then fly into the aerobics room for an hour with 30 competitive women looking to get the highest kick and the best form at the highest intensity. For an activity that was in the dark with loud, 80’s music and flashing lights, it was an all-out battle to see who could keep up with the moves and power of the aerobic instructor. This was a “performance” because the entire back was enclosed in glass around the indoor track.

I think back and wonder why I did it. Really this was my first competitive sport… the aerobics room.

After the cloud of steamy sweat lifted out of the room, it was time to move onto weights. Nothing big or burly for me, just toning for about 45 min. Then about an hour run around the track, surrounded by more mirrors, parading me through the meaty part of the club, the bodybuilders all pumped up with their big weights and steroids, smelling testosterone in the air. A 20 min. stretch and cool down topped out the day, and I was ready to go home and eat. Almost every day… where’s the balance, fresh air and sunshine?

Almost every day, I went from a bus to and “el” train to a classroom or work, then back to go sweat in a building and exercise, with the pressure of competing and comparing.

I don’t want to be inside to play anymore!!!

I don’t want to compete on the floor, in a square room with over-
stimulating, fluorescent lights and some fake, pretend-you’re-outside music. The feeling is centered around comparing yourself to someone else, not being with you and your soul to find your true inner self, physically and emotionally.

When I ride, hike, ski, feel the sun on my face, smell the abundant air, this is when I feel alive. Not when I’m competing with somebody sardined next to me in a room so we all can fit. I’m game in a peloton, but being outside totally contributes to the entire experience: To ride alongside the road and see the sunflowers smile at you… to get a brisk wind in your face reminding you to push harder… to brush silky leaves as you whirl by… to stop at a log in the trail and breathe, hear and smell.

That’s what a full-body experience is made of… for me.

I know there’s a time and place for the gym when the weather is frigid and the snow is piling. To be able to put on shorts in the middle of winter has its warming qualities for sure. But there’s always something missing… a deep sense of a full body immersion into self while sweating, digging and powering. That’s why I like to play outside all year long. I’m so grateful that I can.

You’ll find me at the gym, but don’t expect me to be soulfully fulfilled in a box.

(photo credit)

Sometimes when I blog, I feel like I’m writing to a screen that has no end. It’s open, yet it’s closed. It’s free, yet it feels somewhat caged in cyberspace. It’s a white screen with a black hole. What do the faces of the readers look like? Are there smiles? Does it go in one ear and out the other? How many thousands of other words have you been inundated with before you read this?

Where’s the connection amidst the clicks and scrolls?

Hello, is there anybody out there?

Where is the personal link behind the box?

Facebook, you knew that the mastermind behind the computer has feelings… and you capitalized on connection.

When you start a blog, there’s a rolling momentum that encourages you to forge ahead. The thrill of clicking the “Publish” button and sending a post out to elicit some sort of connection or share some tidbits of knowledge that I stumble upon. The new and exciting feel of jumping on a new bike for the first time… or maybe just a new life.

Woo hoo!! The creativity, ideas, and blog posts spew out onto the screen with ease.

Then I feel like I’m just writing on a wall. Yes, you all can see but it feels like it floats out there as cyber bits of rock among the asteroids. Everybody is blogging with gazillions of words. Blogs are tangled like snarled ponytails (ask my daughter about those). When I feel discouraged, then comes life. The idea pipeline gets clogged. Muddle in the middle. Life oozes into the cracks that allowed the expression to escape, stifling the time and energy that zaps to a halting stop. Now is where the hard part comes. Forcing posts or pushing creativity does NOT work… the flow needs to re-emerge as something new and fresh once again.

So I’m “back in the saddle” once again: Riding, writing and life. The new flow goes, the creativity re-awakened and the energy disperses more evenly to create balance. I completed my road race goal and come back to tipping the scales the other way… at least for a while.

But that’s what a scale is for, right? To hit the tipping point, then come back home to balance.

What comes with me is an understanding that there is some tidal movement: It can be a tidal wave, and then tiny lapping waves with barely a ripple. There is a time for certain moments to occur and then allowance to move on.

Thanks for hangin’ with me through Missing-in-action-May. Just know that I will always be real, and “real” is taking breaks too.

❤ ❤ ❤

This post acts as a combo cycling/life lesson. A two-for-one deal. I’m always amazed how one mountain bike ride can reveal so much about life. That’s why I’m soooo addicted to the mental and physical challenge.

Parts of my biking = parts of my life. I learn and apply…even the crashes.

In mountain biking, most bikers ride on a hardtail (front suspension only) or a full suspension (both wheels have the cush). It’s nice to have a full suspension bike to soften the blow and stop from headbobbing and body jiggling. Plus, then you can also fly over baby skulls (loose, rounded rocks that resemble…I won’t say it again), roots and other things without missing a beat. I’ve ridden on both, and two shocks make me go faster. It softens the blow, yet rides over just about anything. But sometimes it buffers too much and I can get sloppy and careless, just like when I make choices in life…

Focus.

When I ride trails, some have switchbacks: The trail heads in one direction up a mountain, then flips to the other direction so you can climb without going straight up. It can be a nice, easy transition, or it can be a super tight turn. I constantly struggled with these at first, never quite figuring out how to pedal, look, and turn at the same time. It’s almost like patting your tummy and rubbing your head simultaneously…it takes practice. I finally figured it out after about 50 times when someone told me to LOOK AHEAD. Look through the turn and the bike follows. When life takes a sudden turn, look ahead…

Vision.

Sometimes climbing just sucks…wind. Breathing hard, learning to settle myself as my heart pounds in my ears, sweat pours down my face, gravity is cruel, and legs burn. Sound fun? If you master it (and I have yet to feel euphoric at that point), then you rock. One thing I did learn on a steep climb is to shift your weight forward onto the seat, and amazing things happen…my bike moves up the hill. The suffering is less. The conquering is more. The euphoria happens at the top, sipping your water bottle and chewing on goji berries. To lean into my world and be floored at what happens…

Movement.

After a couple of crashes, my bike doesn’t sound great afterwards. Rattling, clanking, scrapes, stickers scratched, gears out of whack or whatever. I know nothing about my bike and how it works, for the most part. It looks cool and I know some parts, but change a tire? That’ll take me an hour. I was cruising along one day and the front of the bike was noisy…and noisier, then really noisy. I stopped to take a look at the tire and it was super loose. Like almost falling off. If I didn’t listen, that would have been a nasty fall. Take a hint in life…

When a situation gets louder and louder, listen.

There are some days in a ride when I feel like I’m on the top of my game. Balance, lungs, smiles, legs cranking, less burping, well hydrated. I’m in a zone and feeling like I can ride forever…then I get cocky. When I feel good, there’s no stopping me, except for a fall. I corner faster, I risk more, I fly down descents, and the adrenaline rush is addicting. The next thing I know, I’m on the ground pinned under a tree, body sprawled, bike tangled around me with a stunned look on my face. What happened? Know your limits…

Balance.

Then there are days of self defeat. It’s not my day, my stomach hurts, ankle feels sticky, lungs burn, snotty nose, focus is blurry, balance is sketchy, and I feel like I’m crawling. Every pedal stroke is a sufferfest and a huge effort to crank out. Where’s my head? Is there anything positive from this ride? Should I just stop, go back and call it a day? Sometimes I do listen to my body occasionally and turn around, but then again, do I need to just get over the hump and feel better on the other side? Usually I push through and let my positive thoughts take over. To stop beating myself up because I’m having a different day. I look around at the beauty, the scenery, the peace, the quiet, take each climb as it comes and I’m back…into the place that gets me somewhere. Get through the tough stuff and accomplish more than you ever thought possible…

Perseverance.

This concludes my gnarly, needed lessons. Bike lessons, life lessons. My lessons, your lessons. Digging deeper and finding treasures.

Confessions of a Mom perpetually dancing in cyberspace:

2 am Brilliant idea I had while drying my hair half awake so I don’t have to sleep on a wet pillow. I have this weird thing about showering before bed. It just makes me sleep better.

3 am Norah, the 6 yr. old announces “I just need someone to snuggle with”. How can you pass that up? Back to zzzz.

6 am Devin, the 11 yr. old asks “Can I have carob chips in my snack for lunch today?” More zzzzzz.

7 am Elle, the 9 yr. old comes in to say good morning, but it’s not morning for me yet. Then zzzzz again.

8 am “Mom, can you get up and make me breakfast? I’m really hungry.” I say sure, just as soon as I get up…zzzzz.

Get up. I need to feed my birds, as I say.

Why is the floor crunchy? Why is the laundry room floor heaped? Where did those jeans come from that are capris now? Are you going to get out of your pajamas today? Is your butt glued to the seat? Why do you have two different socks on? Didn’t you have that shirt on for the third day in a row now?

Ahhhh…where’s the balance? My finger’s on it, then it goes away. I catch it again, then it disappears as fast as it reappears. Is Dirt filling my eyes, ears and brain? I understand there are waves of inspiration, but this is insane. If my head fills with anymore memories, blog titles, ideas that whisk me away to some imaginary place and having a beehive brain, I’m checking myself into bloggers anonymous…already.

As is with every new and exploding adventure, the flame will turn to a spark.

I relish in the momentum. I’m amazed at the whirling storms within my thoughts. Thunderheads of energy. Squalls that stir up the wind in my life, and then bring it a breath of fresh air. Opening up my eyes to a new way of thinking. Stepping out to experience “a seamless connection” with new ventures. Come share one with me…

My solo snowshoe hike in the dark:

It was the sweetest snowshoe hike ever. Glistening snow, muffled sounds, deep steps in the snow up the road. I work up a sweat within five minutes. The quiet sounds of my snowshoes turn squeeky and clunky as I travel on the plowed road, and then I arrive at the trail. There it was…looming in the darkness, waiting for me to travel on it’s white blanket. I climbed over the plow bank and started up, huffing and puffing all the way. Climb, breathe harder, climb, breathe harder. I turn a switchback, duck under a sagging branch, and stop to catch my breath. My heart is leaping out of my chest and looking for a bit of calm. I squint at the peaceful setting as snow lands in my eyelashes, standing high on a mountain top with a fuzzy view of the valley below. My headlamp illuminates the way to a path of animal tracks left like a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow. It’s so incredibly beautiful and the best high ever; it’s euphoria at it’s finest. I have no fear.

Afterwards, I settle back down to my family, to my life and to my next adventure. The tried and true vs. the exciting and new.