I went back to Sam’s Thursday post in the third week of April 2015 (11 years ago): The rules of cycling rewritten. It was composed of three linked posts and Phil Gaimon’s 3-minute video, New Rules of Cycling.
Sam’s two linked posts describe observations and correctives for some negative aspects of cycling she was seeing at the time, focusing on machismo and fussiness.
I found through the Wayback Machine the youth sport UK’s 27 rules for young cyclists, which emphasize respect, consctientiousness, and reality checks during training and races. The rules advise young cyclists to reject egotism and meanspiritesness and embrace competition while still seeing the bigger picture.
Finally, conplete with a makeshift outdoor office, a Cookie Monster mug, and his bike behind him, Gaimon shares general etiquette cycling rules that reject elitism and encourage safety and inclusion. And waving, as Sam notes in her OP.
If I had to boil it all down, the “new” cycling rules in 2015 were to Be Kind To Others and Be Kind To Yourself.
I think Sam’s post from eleven years ago is evergreen, not throwback. As a curious but hesitant new road and gravel cyclist over the last few years, I might not have even joined if I’d have known how gate-keepy it could be. I’m grateful for these posts because the culture of any sport is learned behaviour. As a novice, I only benefit from more seasoned riders who model and encourage unlearning the “old” rules that would have excluded me. Mark and Fred at the LCC lead in this way.
Longtime FIFI cyclists: have the “new rules” from over a decade ago become just “the rules” today? What’s changed, and what’s still the same in your cycling world?
By the time you read this, I will be in recovery following my heart valve replacement.
I’m grateful I was able to go into surgery relatively fit. It will help my recovery.
I’m even more grateful that we finally had some good weather and I was able to go for a bike ride on Friday.
And I’m especially grateful to this amazing group of women, my swim club lane-mates. I couldn’t ask for better pals and can’t wait to be back in the water with them.
Five women grouped together in a swimming pool, hamming it up for the camera.
Hi readers– remember Sunday, when I wrote about my love and extreme sappiness about the Boston Marathon? Well, I’m not alone in having strong feelings for all things having to do with this event. Witness the hullabaloo around the following signs put up recently in Boston by running shoe companies. Here’s one advertisement ill-advisedly run by a company that rhymes with “Mikey”:
Red sign saying “Runners Welcome. Walkers Tolerated,” Really, Nike? For shame.
Bostonians and visitors alike were feeling serious consternation and not keeping quiet about it. Yes, the Boston marathon requires pretty ambitious qualifying times (e.g. 3 hours for men ages 35-39 and 3:30 for same-aged women). But lots of people who enter are raising money for charities, so their finishing times are much longer.
Also, those who are not runners and who complete the race in wheelchairs or in cooperation with others on dual teams were also mentioned in comments. Don’t they count, Nike?
After realizing their bonehead mistake, Nike made this tepid statement of non-apology:
“We want more people to feel welcome in running – no matter their pace, experience, or the distance. During race week in Boston, we put up a series of signs to encourage runners. One of them missed the mark.”
Ya think?
Then their corporate sign-makers got to work and put up this more contrite version:
The new Nike sign, saying”Boston will always remind you, movement is what matters.” hmph.
Other shoe companies were not unaware of Nike’s gaffe. A company whose name rhymes with “basics” put this sign up in short order:
Purple-bluish sign saying “Runner, Walkers. All welcome. Move your body, move your mind.”
And that’s not all. The shoe company Altra put out an ad that led with “Run. Walk. Crawl,” and captioned a social post, “Go where you’re celebrated. Not where you’re tolerated.” Yes, I know that this is corporate piling-on for the purpose of rearranging market shares. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it, right?
Congratulations to all those who entered the Boston Marathon and who completed it, regardless of mode. And speaking of signs, if any of these corporate folks need some tips, asking the people at the Wellesley scream tunnel for advice. Here are a few of my favorites. Enjoy…
Signs saying “blink twice if you need Dunkin'”, among other things.
Today, as you may have guessed, is World Creativity & Innovation Day and I have a kind of thinky post underway for later today but for starters, I have a few questions for you.
My answers will be in my later post along with ideas and resources about the intersection between fitness and creativity.
1) What kind of creative practices do you use in your day to day life? (Creative problem solving counts!)
2) Have you used creative scheduling approaches to make it easier to fit fitness activities, movement, or wellness activities in your life?
3) Do you stick to the same fitness routine or do you get creative with your movements, exercises, and activities?
4) Have you ever used exercise to boost your creativity?
5) Have you ever found a creative solution to a fitness-related problem? (like figuring out a way to accomplish a difficult exercise or finding a way to a piece of equipment in a useful but unexpected way)
No pressure, of course, but it would be cool if you could put your answers to at least one of these questions in the comments.
I’ll see you later with my thinky post.
PS – Did you notice that I creatively repurposed one of my December number images for today’s image? 😉
When you are grieving loved ones, but starting to feel a bit more like yourself on some days, how much is too much joy?
When you are navigating elder care, but can only be physically in a place once a week, how many days focusing on your work without feeling melancholy, counts as selfish?
How much sun on your face, is too much? Did you get too happy and share that moment?
How many nights in a row of good sleep scores is indulgent?
How much yearning for a vacation when the climate is acting like a pubescent teenager and the fascists are making war is too much?
How much anger is acceptable when you recognize a genetic disposition to occasional releasing of repressed emotions?
What if you were taught you should always make time for a simcha (celebration) (unless you are in a strict mourning period). What if you don’t believe in strictness?
Don’t forget that if you exclaim over your good fortune, you should also wear something red to ward off the evil eye, or exclaim, “from your mouth to god’s ear, poo poo poo”, in case you are exclaiming too much.
My social share from Saturday morning:
I don’t have a video for Saturday evening or Sunday afternoon because I wasn’t plutzing. I was noticing sadness. Maybe frustration. Perhaps helplessness? I think that’s called balance? Allowable balance?
What if you are an independent person who can intellectually understand it’s OK to feel joy? What if you are a modern person who believes in self care? What if you are a set of ancient DNA that pulls in familar directions?
What if your work demands understanding and openness you have to remind yourself to feel to those closer to you?
What if reminiscing over old photos reminds you of close ties, good times, also – sad moments and lost potential? When did you deal with those old stories? Did you?
If you are fifty-three and three quarters you are not supposed to care what people think. Do you still get to care what you think? Do you get to think differently? Do you believe you will work on finding answers?
In 1998, we were traveling in Australia. That was a lifelong dream of mine. As far back as 4th grade I read books about animals. I began dreaming about parts of the world where they were widespread and different. Now, at last, with Bruce (my husband), daughters, and friends, we were there. This day we were in Queensland. We had seen the Barrier Reef, the giant clams, the enormous cod and all sorts of colorful creatures. Then, off to dinner and a good night’s sleep.
I woke up to find one of our friends sitting next to me, chin on hand, staring thoughtfully. He’s a doctor. My husband & I shared a room with a good friend whose mobility is severely limited (we’ve been good friends since high school). She told me I’d had a grand mal seizure. She had recognized it and, from her experience as a special-ed speech therapist, had been able to talk Bruce through it. The others had called a local doctor. He arrived, checked a few things then asked, “Do you know where you are?” I looked around. The whole thing had, to me, a pretty Alice in Wonderland feeling. Dream-like. I hadn’t thought to question anything. But now, I realized I had no idea where I was. A trip planned for 30 years, and it was gone?
Fortunately, the memory of everything through the previous evening came back. And the doctor said we could continue to travel (phew) but I’d need a cat scan if it happened again. He thought I’d had “a one-off fit.” So we finished the trip, but when I got back home, I went straight to my doctor, who sent me to a neurologist, who got an MRI, which showed the tumor. Surgery followed, then lots of MRIs & follow-up care. And, since my tumor was very low grade, a projected life expectancy of 10-15 years. In the brain cancer world, that is great. But for the 46-year-old hearing it, not so great.
Once I had grown somewhat accustomed to my new reality, it occurred to me that I’d better give up procrastination. I suppose we all think of that as a pretty good new year’s resolution, but this time, I meant it, and I followed up. And one of my top priorities had been to get back in shape. I had been running the family business and raising daughters, and there just wasn’t a ton of time out there. My daughters were, by now, away at college, so that excuse was no good any more. So I got a stationary bike – the old kind with nothing but a seat, handlebars and pedals. And I put in a half hour every day, and it began to make quite a difference.
After a few months, Bruce kept telling me how boring that was, and that I really needed to get out on a real bike. Eventually, I caved in, and got a hybrid bike and began to take cautious rides along local paths. I got up to 5 miles! Ten miles! He got me out to ride to a local reservoir, a ride that included some traffic and a final climb of 100 feet or so. I thought, 1) I might die from the effort, and 2) I must have climbed something roughly equivalent to Mount Everest.
And one more change, and then another: I joined a women’s bike club; I cured tendinitis caused by lugging the heavy hybrid bike onto the commute train by buying the road bike the shop guys recommended; I was so impressed by the lightness & easy riding – once I had overcome my fear of such a delicate vehicle – that I signed up for the following year’s AIDS ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles.
And so many things followed. More AIDS rides (there’s quite a story there, since when I finished the first one, I said to myself, well, I’ll never have to do that again!); lots of touring and leading local endurance training rides, some running, some strength training, some yoga, and lots and lots of tap dance. That was already a regular thing – my older daughter was in STOMP! for a couple of years & we went to tap festivals together.
Somewhere in the fitness journey, I stumbled across this blog, and loved it! I can go on with my stories, but first I want to thank all of you who write here for the inspiration and support you have given. And to apologize for the somewhat haphazard pace of my comments. I have comments in my head for almost every post I read, and only seem to get a few of them out to you. So thanks so much for all you have done to help this journey!
Quick Bio: I am a lifelong Californian. I have a husband, two daughters, and five grandchildren. I spent 40+ years in the family business, taking over when my father retired. I have served on a couple of school boards and worked with several non-profits and several individuals who needed help. My lucky life makes me very eager to pay it forward. My current fitness makes me very eager to see the world from a bike saddle.
Me at about age 10 with what I think was my second bike. 3 speeds, and we often had to wear dresses. Me holding my bike overhead at the half way point on the AIDS ride from SF to LA. The third is a picture of me and Bruce having ridden up Waimea Canyon on Kauai.
Tomorrow, Monday April 20th, is the 130th Boston Marathon. It’s a special day in Boston, roughly coinciding with Patriots’ Day, commemorating the first battles of the American Revolution in Lexington and Concord, MA. We also celebrate the rides of Paul Revere, William Dawes, and Samuel Prescott from Boston to Concord (although Revere was apprehended by the British). Reenactors on horseback retrace the rides on Patriot’s Day and there are parades and reenactments of revolutionary things.
In fact, on one Patriots’ day, while I was cycling with a friend in Lexington, MA, we saw a lot of people on the side of the road. I said to her, “I think there’s a parade happening here.” She disagreed until we spotted a guy in Colonial garb clip-clopping down Mass Ave in our direction. We prudently and expeditiously pulled over to the sidewalk to join the rest of the onlookers.
These reenactors aren’t in Lexington, but the one on the left is riding down Mass Ave. in Arlington. The three riders on the right are playing Prescott, Revere and Dawes. It’s fun to watch them and the rest of the colonial pageantry.
But the main reason why there’s a bank holiday Monday in Boston is the Boston Marathon. Tens of thousands of runners, their friends and family and marathon fans flood Boston, roads are closed for the race, and much of the city stops what it’s doing to watch the wonder of the 26.2 mile (42.1Km) event.
I admit that I rarely head to the course to view the marathon in person, but I always watch it on TV. With coffee, maybe pancakes or an omelette and toast, I make sure I’m in place for the start (Men’s and Women’s Wheelchair and Handcycle at 9:06 am and 9:09am, 9:37am for the Elite men, 9:47am for the Elite women), and then do house chores with it going in the background. The Wheelchair Elites finish starting around 10:30am, The Elite men cross the finish line starting around 11:45, and the Elite women winner will cross the line by 12:10 or earlier.
It’s that women’s finish that always makes my heart swell and my eyes water. Every time.
I don’t follow professional marathon racing, so I don’t know much about the women runners prior to listening to the color commentators that morning. And I am not nor have I ever been a runner myself. But as they hit the 20-mile and head up Heartbreak Hill in Newton, I am glued to the screen. Watching their form, their speed, their demeanor– it just gets to me. In the best possible way. I’m cheering them, worrying about them, feeling sympathy for those running out of gas on the course, and anxiously awaiting the last push to the finish line on Boylston Street.
Sometimes it’s a tight race to the end. Other times someone has pulled out ahead and is the clear winner coming out of the Kenmore Square tunnel at mile 25. Either way, I’m on the edge of my seat on the sofa.
When the women are in sight of the finish line tape, I always get choked up. Happiness, pride, inspiration (in a good way), relief– I have all the feelings. Every time.
I love watching the women run and finish the Boston marathon. Their race reminds me of how hard they have worked to get a spot in the marathon (women weren’t officially allowed to enter until 1972, although two women ran and finished in 1966 and 1967) and how hard they have worked to make their way as professional athletes.
Readers, do you have a special women’s athletic event that you follow, that makes you all teary-eyed and proud? I’d love to hear from you. In the meantime, I’m getting my Marathon Monday breakfast all ready…
It’s been a wet week for #30DaysOfBiking and also a very busy week at work, and so I missed a bunch of days.
And on our way into personal training at Movati, Sarah and I spotted this sign below. A very cheerful woman at the front desk saw us looking at it and said, hey I’m teaching the Glow ride on Saturday. You should come. It’ll be fun.
So that’s where I was this morning. (Sarah was off helping to put in the docks at the Guelph Community Boating Club. That’s a different kind of workout that involves waders.)
How was the Glow Ride? I liked the aesthetics–dark with glow sticks. The instructor was friendly and helpful. I love that they offer earplugs if you’re concerned about the loud music. I didn’t take them, but I liked that they were on offer.
Movati has new bikes which display all the things: power, cadence, speed, and distance. They’re easy to adjust for seat height. As usual, I hate all the dancing around on the bike. I’m also not a fan of upper-body exercises on the bike with tiny weights. But there was lots of the stuff I do like, climbing and sprinting. I didn’t have any bad effects with my hiatal hernia but I made sure to eat a few hours before the class, not right before. I also didn’t do anything too intense. See here for why.
Anyway, it’s a very rainy weekend and we’re back to chores and weekday work stuff that’s spilled over, way over, into the weekend. But it felt good to get some movement in.
Last Saturday morning I got a text from Cate, fellow blogger and extraordinary human, shortly after my post was published.
“One more resource is your friends and the ppl who think you are awesome — I send you a huge hug”
And I have to say, I’m blessed with a spectacular group of friends. From queer community to fitness bloggers to colleagues…I get so much love and encouragement. I have people I can ugly cry with.
My beloved and I often talk about the importance of social connection and a sense of belonging, especially as it relates to wellbeing.
Keeping social connections is highly gendered. This oldie but a goodie article from the New York Times explores the uneven burden but also the well being gains for women.
People expect that I, as a cisgendered woman, will seek out and maintain connections. Michel, as a cisgendered man, is seen as odd, even creepy. It’s weird.
We have shared friends and family. We also have our individual pursuits and friends. I enjoy his friends and he mine.
So yes Cate, you are a part of my strategy for coping and celebrating.
And if you are reading this thinking you haven’t heard from a friend for a while reach out and offer a hug, a hike or a heckin’ good time.
It will make all the difference to you both.
Some friends hanging out enjoying a sunset overlooking water.
Long time readers of this blog will know that the biggest joy of the last year for me has been fully embracing my creative writing self — and finding an amazing learning space, writing coach and community of writing women I meet with almost every day to co-write for a while. And I’m so thrilled that Heidi, the coach who has taught me so much, is launching her second novel.
Sam and I were talking about why telling stories about writing belongs on a fitness blog. “It’s the same process,” she said. We need goals, intentional plans, persistence, discipline, community — and celebrating our accomplishments.
I asked Heidi if her characters do anything fitness-y as well. “They do go swimming! And canoeing. Albeit a bit badly.”
