Tag: cycling

In Which I Am Famous

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures2 Comments

Today my friend, That Laura, sent me the following text:

“Hey, did you know you are on the back of ‘Biking the Best’?  How cool are you?”

Biking the Best is a booklet of maps of twenty-four of the best road rides in and around Shasta County.  I did not know I was on the back cover and I have to say it went to my head a little bit.  This was my reply.

“Send me a photo of it.  Wait, am I upright?”

Unfortunately, that is a valid question on my part.

“Yes, you’re upright.  It’s a picture of a bunch of people at a rest stop.”

Laura sent the photo to my phone but I couldn’t quite make it out.

“Oh good.  I was afraid it was when I fell over or something.  How do I get my own copy so I can brag about being big and famous?  And do you want me to autograph yours?”

Laura called a minute later and asked if I wanted to meet her at the bike shop because she was going to buy a copy.  Of course I wanted to buy my Very Own Copy.  I think she was actually buying it for the routes.  I, on the other hand, felt compelled to buy it because I was obviously the star of the book.  And bike routes are nice, too.  That way when I get lost because I didn’t look at the map in the first place I can still find my way back home.

So I puffed up my chest and strode into the bike shop.  Funny thing is, nobody in the shop stopped and asked for my autograph.  They didn’t even recognize me.  Didn’t they know the back cover model of “Biking the Best” was in their presence?

I swaggered over to the counter and picked up a copy.  I didn’t bother to flip through the routes.  Instead I turned right to the back cover.  And sure enough there were a bunch of my cycling friends.

“Are you sure I’m in this picture?  I don’t see myself.”  I said to Laura.

“Yep, you’re right there in your Fat Cyclist jersey.  See?”  She pointed.

I squinted.  A lot.  And sure enough there I was.  Looking like an idiot.  True, I am upright in the photo, but that’s the best thing I can say about it.  I apologize for the grainy quality of the photo.  It’s a photo of a photo, but you’ll get the gist.

Do you see me?  No?

I’m the one on the right.

Further right.

Yeah.  That one.

I have no idea what I was reaching for back there.  My only guess is that I had a sock stuck in my jersey or something.

Still, I’m happy to autograph your copy of the booklet.  In fact, you probably won’t mind if I sign in big, black permanent marker, right?  And I have a long name so you might not even be able to see my photo underneath the autograph.  And wouldn’t that be a shame.

NaNoWriMo: Help Wanted

On By Alicia McCauleyIn NaNoWriMo3 Comments

It is October 31st, known to most as Halloween, but known to insane writers everywhere as the night before NaNoWriMo.  That’s right, National Novel Writing Month is standing tiptoe at my door and I am, at best, unprepared.

Last year I did all sorts of things to prepare for a crazy month of writing.  This year I have done nothing.  Last year my plot came to me in a dream.  My dream life has been overactive as usual, but nothing worth putting on paper.  In short, I am skint.

Last year I was a NaNoWriMo winner, meaning I cranked out 1,667 words a day for 30 days for a total of just over 50,000 words.  I’m not saying they were interesting words or that my novel was any good, but I crossed the finish line and that’s what counts.

In cycling there is a term for people who do not cross the finish line.  It is DNF, as in Did Not Finish.  It is the most shameful of acronyms.  I know this because I DNF’d  once.  After a nasty sports drink incident, I found myself puking in front of scads of teeny tiny soccer kids, but even that was not as embarrassing as the DNF that appeared by my name.

So as I sit here on NaNoWriMo Eve, I am determined to win again, to outrun the dreaded DNF.  And I need your help.  Yes, you, the one averting your eyes and trying to click away from here.  Here’s how you can help: For the next month I need you to leave stuff in this post’s comments section.  Stuff like:

  • names
  • places
  • snippets of conversations you overhear
  • links to articles you find interesting or entertaining
  • favorite quotes
  • stuff your pet does
  • stuff your parents say or do
  • stories from your childhood
  • weird stuff your friends do
  • words you love
  • words you loathe
  • songs I should add to my writing playlist
  • anything and everything else that comes to mind

I am confident that with your help I’ll be able to pound out 50k words by November 30th and instead of a horrid DNF appearing by my name, it will instead say WINNER.  There’s a certificate and everything.

I. Must. Have.  It.

Letter #5: Signs

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters to Gramma1 Comment

Dear Gramma,

Another cycling season has come to a close and I thought of you often as I rode up hills and coasted through the plains.  I rode through places so beautiful, I thought my heart was going to burst from all that splendor.  You were always interested in the world around you and I wanted to share some of my favorite memories of the places I’ve seen from my two wheels.  I wish I could show you in person.  Sometimes Heaven feels so far away, such a long way off.

On Easter Sunday I rode with Uncle Jon.  We rode behind the hills you loved so much and came upon this cactus farm.


Pete completed his first century in May and here we are with the three Shastas: Shasta Lake, Shasta Dam and Mt. Shasta.  We had so much fun together and I wanted to call you so badly that night.

This one is from the finish line in Portland.  Do you remember my childhood best friend, Julie?  She cheered me on at the finish line.

And let’s face it, I will never, ever race in the Tour de France.  However, the LiveStrong Chalkbot is rolling out messages of inspiration all along the course.  This one is from my friend, Lynn.  Yes, I know how lucky I am to have such thoughtful friends.

The world is a wonderful place and I wish we were traveling it together.  But for now it is enough that I carried your sign in my jersey pocket and carried your spirit in my heart.  I love you, Gramma.

Love,

Alicia

The Best Gift

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike AdventuresLeave a comment

Yesterday was the sixth anniversary of having my heart repaired.  I actually thought it was seven years, but when I pulled out my old, jagged EKG, I discovered it’s only been six.  Time flies when you’ve got a heart like mine.  Here are some of my memories from that time in my life.  I know Valentine’s Day isn’t here yet, but I celebrate it all month long.  So, Happy Valentine’s to my friends and family.  I hope your heart is as full as mine.

You lay on the operating table, sleepy from the icy drugs running up the veins of your arm.  The doctor enters and asks “What kind of music do you like?”

“Anything but country.” you slur, the words like marshmallows in your mouth.  You close your eyes and try to block out the jerky beep, beep, beep of the EKG.

It is that very beep, beep, beep that brought you here.  The room is cold and the air wisping through the opening in your gown sends chills tiptoeing down your arms and legs.  You are wearing funny, striped socks on your feet.

You keep your eyes closed and then country music bleeds through the speakers.  The EKG fires in staccato. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep!

“Now.” the doctor says as he threads the wires through your leg and into your heart.  You feel the wires squirm.  Twisting.  Searching.  Repairing.  Your chest is made of bricks, heavy and stiff.  Your body lurches violently with each heartbeat.  A rogue tear slides down your cheek, taking your brave face with it.

The country music is whiny and unbearable.  The EKG is an alarm sounding, a code red noise.

“Country music is literally going to kill me,” you think.  Your mouth tastes like metal.  You are sure that this is what fear tastes like.

The wires weave.  Your sweat from every known gland.  Your heart beats so fervently it feels like it has no other choice than to simply give up any second now.  All of the air has been sucked out of the room and you’re sure that you are not going to make it.  Your heart hammers.

You smile at the thought of dying in funny socks and have a moment of pure gratitude for your life.

You do not hear the EKG anymore.

You only hear the doctor say “Okay.”  He slowly pulls the wires out, like pulling a loose thread from a sweater.

The EKG returns to a steady rhythm.  You breathe again.  The bricks are gone.  And, thank God, THANK GOD, a nurse finally turns off the country music.

You lay still in the recovery room.  Your husband, who has paced the entire time, holds your hand.  You lay with your legs elevated in a ‘V’, a ward against blood clots.

You are told “Lay still.  Do not move.  At all.”  After several hours every part of your body, including your hair, aches from all that stillness.

Sometime, maybe the evening, maybe the middle of the night, maybe the next day, you are allowed to go home.  Per doctor’s orders, you ride with your legs resting upright on the dashboard and your husband’s hand warm on your own.

A week later, you ride your bike on the river trail.  Your stitches send a pinch of pain as you swing your leg over the crossbar of your bike.  You pedal loopy, slow circles.  The frost nips at your fingertips and there is a perpetual drip from your nose, but your legs are sure.

The blood in your heart looks for ghost pathways, but your heart is strong.  And strength is what matters most.  Maybe all that matters.

Your heart is better than new.  It is stronger than you ever imagined it could be.

It is Valentine’s Day and you know with every cell in your body that you, the girl in funny socks, have been given the best gift of all.