Tag: bicycling

Brave

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures3 Comments

Fearless is a word I don’t have much use for.  Being fearless is sometimes touted as this great character trait, but there are things to be afraid of, things worthy of a shake in my shoes, a shiver up my spine, and a sweaty nightmare or two.  I am not fearless, but I’ve got bravery in spades.  Or at least I used to.

These past few months I’ve taken care to follow doctor’s orders to rest my heart.  While spiders laced cobwebs through the spokes of my bike and my most favorite cycling season fell to the ground in a blush of yellows and reds, I waited for my heart to be sure and steady.

While I waited I pursued my love of words.  I wrote a novel.  I wrote poetry.  I wrote about teaching and life in general.  As the air whispered out of my tires, my fingers flew across the keys tapping out this life of a writer.  Writing can be a frightening affair and I faced some of my writerly fears head on.  When I reached a stuck point in my novel, I tucked my head down and pounded away at the keys until my characters moved my story along for me.  I’d heard of that happening, but I thought it was just something writers tell each other to get past the quicksand that secrets itself away in every newborn plot.  But no, it turned out to be true, even in my meager novel.  I dipped my toe into being published and faced my first rejection letter.  With bravado to spare, I tackled two fears at once: public speaking and reading a piece born of my own hand to a large group people I know.  It turned out to be one of the most rewarding days in my life as a writer.  So this idea of facing fears is one I’ve grabbed hold of with both hands in my life as a writer.

It’s puzzling to me then that this boldness in my writing life would come at a time when I was paralyzed by fear of riding my bike or doing anything else that might press my heart beyond its capacity.  The weight of the heart monitor was so much more than the half pound of space it occupied in the corner of my purse.  It sat in that dark corner, unwanted and untouched for almost a month.  My little heart beat away happily, normally as if my heart knew of the monitor’s presence and decided now was the time to play nice inside my chest.  For months I was careful not to strain my heart in the least.  Trust me, I’ve got the gelatinous thighs to prove it.

It was at the tail end of this time that a friend asked me “Is this the life you want to live?”  Well, not really, but the “live” part of that question was of more import than the quality of living I was doing.  On days when my heart was a sloppy quick step and my arm throbbed, living was enough all by itself.  Honest to God it was.  But is that a way to live a life?  No.  Definitely no.

Eventually the time came to turn in my heart monitor.  Enough days had passed without incident or pain that I was free to resume life.  And yet, I was afraid.  Quivering in my shoes, waking up in a pillow of sweat, eyes wide as moons kind of afraid.

What if my heart started to race in the middle of nowhere on my bike?

What if I lost feeling in my arm and crashed?

What if?  What if?  What if?

As I sat on my couch pounding out tales of my brave writing life, my fear of turning the cranks came to a head.  I could not stand the stagnation of my life a second longer.  It was time.  It was time to pump air into my tires, to pull on my gloves and brush the dust off of my saddle.

It feels appropriate that my reunion with my bike happened on Christmas Eve morning, a day full of anticipation.  On Christmas Eve Terry and I found ourselves in Sacramento, near my old friend the American River and it’s seemingly unending bike trail.

That morning I pulled on my tights and armwarmers, my nerves bouncing just inside my skin.  The what ifs rose to every surface of my being.  I forced them back down as I tightened my helmet strap and velcroed my shoes, breathing deeply before facing the morning air.

It was a frigid thirty degrees when I rolled the Rocket out to the street.  I said a prayer and watched my words float above me in bleached puffs against the blue sky.  I wanted to ride 25 miles.  25 miles is nothing on a bike.  Barely long enough to warrant filling a water bottle.

Three of us set out that morning.  My legs moved in unsure circles after so many months off.  I thought about the time I was cycling in a dream and sleep pedaled my sheets into a lump at the foot of my bed, but this was no dream.  We moved onto the American River Trail, the river rushing to the left of us.  My heart was steady.  Steady and happy.  It was a slow and beautiful ride.

After 26 miles I unclipped and rolled to a stop back at our starting point.  Steam rose from the vents in my helmet and the morning air was cold on my teeth as I smiled.  I packed my bike into the car and breathed a sigh of relief.  I patted my heart for a job well done.

A few minutes after our ride, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  These last few months, my increasingly chubby cheeks or my multiplying chins have been the first things to catch my attention when I look at my reflection, but not this time.  This time I was taken aback by the expression on my face.  It was familiar, but something I hadn’t seen in quite some time.  It was the expression of a girl who’d faced fear and found it wasn’t so terrifying after all.

Welcome back, brave girl, welcome back.

Death By Chocolate Cake

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike AdventuresLeave a comment

I haven’t ridden my bike in almost two weeks.  I have a litany of excuses related but not limited to a pencil stabbing and birthday cake.

I am exhausted from the first week of school.  This week is usually completely tiring, even when all goes well.

All did not go well.

In the span of one week my precious students dealt me 2 bouts of vomit, 1 rush of pee on the playground, 1 pencil stabbing, 1 punch in the face, and a long string of profanity.

I’m going to have to dig down deep this year.

My body tends to tell me when it’s time to rest by getting sick.  I woke up Saturday with a bit of a stomach bug.  I laid on the couch and watched a lot of bad tv.  Sunday I woke up with fever aches, but by Sunday afternoon I was feeling well enough to go to the grocery store.

My step-dad, Chris, has been taking amazing care of my mom as she recovers from eye surgery.  Sunday was his birthday and I wanted to do something nice.  Since I love my step-dad, I didn’t bake for him.  No, I bought him a shimmering quadruple chocolate monstrosity of a cake.

As I carried the cake and an armload of groceries from the car to the house, I noticed that the washing machine had leaked all over the garage for the second time that weekend.  I stepped carefully because flip-flops do not have the greatest traction.  I’d almost made it to the door when my feet slipped.  I held the cake aloft.  Oh no, oh no, please don’t let me ruin the cake.  Wait, please don’t let me hit my head or ruin the cake.  No, wait, please don’t let me hit my head, rip the seat of my pants or ruin the cake. With a thud and a weird “Oof” of air, I landed squarely on my tailbone.  Pain shot up my back.  I cringed.  What about the cake?  What about the cake?

I peeked in the bag and to my great relief the cake stared back at me in perfect condition.  It’s all about priorities, people.  

Tailbones heal.  Cake does not.

And so there it is, my list of excuses as to why The Rocket is in the garage, stewing with Frank.  That’s never good.  I’ll ride soon and I hope that when I do, The Rocket will forgive me without demanding penance for my inactivity or for the divine piece of chocolate cake I inhaled.

Riding Bikes with My Brother

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures2 Comments

Yesterday morning my alarm went off at 5am.  Yes, it’s still summer.  Yes, I set it for 5am on purpose.  Yes, I did the same thing again this morning.  On Saturday That Laura, my little brother Pete, and I headed out for a 17 mile jaunt along the river.  This morning, Pete and I did the same route again.  My brother has recently started cycling the two miles to work and back and when he expressed an interest in doing longer distances, I jumped on it.

I have a simple rule: If you like bikes, I like you.  If you ride a bicycle, or even its ugly cousin the unicycle, you pretty much have to be Satan for me not to like you.  I don’t know much about bike parts and that kind of geekery, but I can talk to you about rides until your face falls off.

I already like my little brother, so I knew taking him on a bike ride would be great.  We rode along the Sacramento River when the air was still cool enough to send goosebumps skipping up my arms.  I know this trail like the back of my hand.  I’ve ridden it in the dark, knowing exactly where I was based on the rise and fall of the pavement beneath my tires and the black shadows of the trees around me.

Since this trail is an old friend, I chattered about bumps in the road, blind corners, the mint that grows here, the blackberries that grow there, the gravel that always gathers around this corner, the fence that marks the end of the hardest part of the hill and all the little details that I have learned about this trail over the last few years.

When Pete was 3 and I was 8, he used to copy what I said.  Not in that irritating way when someone instantly repeats you over and over.  Although he did that, too.  The copying I’m talking about was when I’d hear phrases I used come out of his little mouth within the context of normal conversation.

As we rode in the quiet of the morning, I heard Pete say some of the same things I’ve said on The Rocket.  It’s so relaxing.  It’s better with company. Of course, there were familiar utterances of another vein, too.  My butt hurts.  My legs are sore.  I wanted to get off and walk the hill, but I didn’t let it beat me.

In a lot of ways, riding my bike with Pete feels like we’re kids again.  Only better. When we were kids, we were just brother and sister.  Now we’re friends and I can’t wait to show him another one of my favorite rides next weekend.

Clipless Pedals

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike AdventuresLeave a comment

Clipless pedals.

The name itself is totally misleading. Clipless pedals are the kinds of pedals you clip your bike shoes into so you are in essence attached to your bike. This can be a really good thing when you’re pulling up a hill and want a little extra power. It can also be a really bad thing if you come to a stop and forget to clip out. I’ve spent some time making asphalt angels after realizing I stopped and didn’t disengage. As if it weren’t bad enough, I’d look over and see the driver of the car next to me cackling.

It turns out bruises, scrapes and humiliation are pretty efficient teachers in my cycling life. After a couple of falls, I was vigilant about unclipping my right leg so I could come to a stop and stay upright.

This left me with one more pedal issue to resolve. After clipping out to stop, I needed to learn how to clip back in without swerving all over the intersection while the light changed from green to yellow to red with me still stranded in the middle. I called on the expertise of a far more experienced cyclist. He told me not to worry about trying to clip my foot in right away. One foot was still clipped in and I could use that leg to pedal across the intersection. Once in a less trafficked area, I could look down and clip my other foot in. It was definitely one of those “Why didn’t that occur to me moments?” From that day forward, I’d stop confidently and start up again with my one legged pedaling.

A year later, I was leading some new cyclists on a ride and we came to a stop. One newbie tottered back and forth, clipping out just in time. When it was time to start up, she tried without success to clip in her dangling foot. She made her inaugural asphalt angel and from the ground asked, “Can you help me figure my pedals out?” I helped her up and smiled because I’d been there. I’d so been there. We spent the next few miles stopping, unclipping, lopside pedaling, and clipping in. Over and over again until she got the hang of it.

I won’t say that I’m an expert or even that I possess any expertise because I’ve spent way too much time on the ground for that. I will say this, it takes humility to ask for help. And when asked, I’m always willing to share my experience.

Now if someone will just explain to me how I can avoid crashing that would be great.

What I Would Say to Cancer

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike AdventuresLeave a comment

For the past three years, preparing for a century ride has become a natural part of my life.  Cycling season is as real to me as winter, spring, summer and fall.  I think daily about cycling.  Routes to try, weather conditions, jerseys to wash, pedals to tighten, miles to log, hills to climb.  Since a large chunk of my limited brain space is occupied by all things bike, it’s ironic to me that I don’t often think about the big picture.

This year I’m riding for The Lance Armstrong Foundation as a member of Team Fatty.  Actually our full name is Team Fatty: Fighting For Susan.  Susan is the wife of Fat Cyclist.  Fat Cyclist doesn’t have the luxury of forgetting the big picture because Susan, a mother of four, is in the fight of her life against cancer.  She is has battled cancer before and it’s back for more.  Previously I understood that riding my bike and raising money to cure cancer is important, but I didn’t fully get it until I watched this clip, What I Would Say to Cancer.  Here’s what I’d say to cancer:

You have taken too many children long before it was their time.  You leave mothers with drawers full of onesies fresh with the scent of baby.  You have taken mothers  leaving children longing to hear just one more bedtime story snuggled in the crook of their mommy’s neck.  You have taken fathers, leaving daughters to walk the aisle alone on their wedding day.  You have taken husbands and wives, leaving one side of the bed cold.

Here’s the worst part of you, cancer, you’re greedy.  When you can’t take a life, you take whatever you can.  You are a sneaky thief, taking lungs, breasts, brains, limbs and other parts that don’t belong to you.  You have no conscience, no heart.

But I do.  In fact, I’ve been told that my heart is freakishly strong and you can’t take that away.  So, for all my loved ones and loved ones of my loved ones who have battled cancer, I’m pulling on my Spandex, swinging my leg over the crossbar of my bike and getting ready to ride 100 miles.  I could go on, but I won’t because each pedal stroke is my answer to you, cancer, and I’m going to keep on pedaling until you get what I’m saying.