I'll start this by writing what I remember of the post I was going to write last Thursday, but my life's pretty crazy in a number of directions and so here it is Tuesday but it's good to have a starting point anyway.
My commute to work typically (there are a few different ways to go, I'm talking about taking the Jail Trail, aka the bicycle highways, though sometimes I take a rode that might as well be a highway, and if I leave the house early enough I take a meandering bike path along the river) goes through a bit of construction, traffic, a speedy bike path, more traffic, and a lot of quick thinking. This past Thursday, a messenger came into my path from a different direction, we crossed and took our separate lines, and as I did a quick track stand and maneuvered myself into a turning line to make it to my building, Mr. Slowerthanme caught up and, apparently heading in my direction, commented on my stellar bike handling skills and good line choice. At the time, I thought, "Well, duh," but afterwards, I thought of it like hockey, being a smaller player who'd already more or less maxed out in the height and density department as far as puberty's concerned while the rest of the players on ice just kept growing like aliens, a la The Deadly Spawn. I'm crediting it to my smaller size but really it's probably what all half-decent players do, but there was a line to take, where you saw the best possibility of catching or keeping the puck, of making it out alive through the group of pubescent mutants on the attack, and get it out of our zone or better yet, get it into the opponent's net. It translates to riding a fixed gear, knowing almost intuitively how traffic's going to move, and it translates to running late to work, feeling that stopping is not a possibility and moreover as throughout the commute you've not only been yelled at by drivers and almost killed by both fellow bicyclists, who can't both pedal and steer AND look where they're pedaling and steering, and drivers and by that point think, "well, shit" and direct it, quite generally, to humanity at large as I pedal, stop, pedal, like a puzzle, my good line pulling me through like a beacon.
There's more places where this post goes in my head but for sake of not making myself out to be a total misanthropic ass, I'll stop here. Haven't done yoga or meditation since returning from New Mexico, and it's starting to catch up with me.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Back in action (get it? from before?)
If only you could see the blog posts I've started, then saved, then could not get to finish and post them before they became irrelevant.
I had the great joy of spending the last week and a half in New Mexico, mainly at Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu for the A Room Of Her Own retreat, and also spending some quality time in Santa Fe with my good friend Jason, whom I don't see nearly enough, and who is one of those friends I can miss for years and then a minute after greeting each other, be content sitting in the sun, smiling not having anything much to say, which is something I'm really grateful for and at times feel undeserving of such comfort.
AROHO took my brain and peeled it like an orange. I wrote past my comfort level, outside my genres, cut through the folds of my heart and explored it. We howled at the moon, we howled at each other. It was the most supportive environment I've been in for a long, long time. The amazing thing was that it was non-hierarchical. How do they do that? How do we get to sit, picking apart our wilting salads and overcooked vegetables with Pulitzer Prize winners, Pushcart winners, people who have actually, you know, made money with their writing.
Also, keeping with the theme of this sad blog. We walked. And walked. My guess is that it was probably a mile, a mile and a half between my dorm, which was on one far side of the campus, and art building where roughly half of the events took place and also nearby where a number of my AROHO friends were dormed, on the other side of campus. So I spent a good amount of time walking from one side to the other, occasionally stopping at the cafeteria to remind myself why I brought a box of granola bars.
Also, the hiking trails! I went on a hike almost every day and have the dried and cut up feet to prove it. Ghost Ranch is where the great summer blockbuster hit Cowboys & Aliens was filmed, and I hiked to the top of the spaceship a few times, including once on my own and once with a group of feral women at midnight during a full moon (I know, right?). By the end of the week, my tailbone and butt didn't hurt as much as I expected, but my hips did, all that pulling up of myself, those tight, high steps, the coming down off impossible mesas.
There's a photo that the impressive and inspiring Amy Siskind took of me hoisting myself via a rope through a tight and steep crevice, something a bit like metaphysical birth (or whatever, maybe I'm grasping a bit too far here). I haven't seen it, but she assured me she took it, so if you're lucky enough to know her, ask her sometime. I had climbed this before years ago, before the rope was put in place, and this was certainly less dangerous but then again I take less risks these days.
Towards the end of the trip, Jason picked me up at Ghost Ranch and we went to Lake Abiquiu, a dammed "lake" fed by the Chama River. There are rattle snakes in the lake, but like Jason said, there are snakes in any body of water and they have as much of a right to be there as we do, if not more. Even though the water was low, it was still deep enough to jump off big rocks into the water, an act that's always terrified me. I did testers at increasing heights, plummeting myself on my own accord to see if I could touch the snaky bottom, which I couldn't.
I'm still not back on P90X, and when I last ran with Major Tom, before I left for New Mexico, my butt muscle hurt. But I think I'm ready. The only thing stopping me at this point is my own laziness. I have been keeping up with Ab Ripper X, though, at the gym, along with swimming, using the elliptical and lifting weights, so I'm getting there. I tried to do some pull-ups at Ghost Ranch whenever I passed the jungle gym, and could feel myself being at once strong and weak, and it was good to feel my back muscles clicking awake all at once.
There's a group women's mountain bike ride tonight at Frick, but I'm hesitant about going. I'm under-rested despite being "on vacation" for the past ten days - smiling for 10 consecutive days is apparently exhausting - and have a lot of work to do at home. Thankfully, my boss gave me the day off since I stayed late yesterday and she's at court all day today anyway, so I have a bit of time to catch up.
On a last note, follow me on Twitter!
I had the great joy of spending the last week and a half in New Mexico, mainly at Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu for the A Room Of Her Own retreat, and also spending some quality time in Santa Fe with my good friend Jason, whom I don't see nearly enough, and who is one of those friends I can miss for years and then a minute after greeting each other, be content sitting in the sun, smiling not having anything much to say, which is something I'm really grateful for and at times feel undeserving of such comfort.
AROHO took my brain and peeled it like an orange. I wrote past my comfort level, outside my genres, cut through the folds of my heart and explored it. We howled at the moon, we howled at each other. It was the most supportive environment I've been in for a long, long time. The amazing thing was that it was non-hierarchical. How do they do that? How do we get to sit, picking apart our wilting salads and overcooked vegetables with Pulitzer Prize winners, Pushcart winners, people who have actually, you know, made money with their writing.
Also, keeping with the theme of this sad blog. We walked. And walked. My guess is that it was probably a mile, a mile and a half between my dorm, which was on one far side of the campus, and art building where roughly half of the events took place and also nearby where a number of my AROHO friends were dormed, on the other side of campus. So I spent a good amount of time walking from one side to the other, occasionally stopping at the cafeteria to remind myself why I brought a box of granola bars.
Also, the hiking trails! I went on a hike almost every day and have the dried and cut up feet to prove it. Ghost Ranch is where the great summer blockbuster hit Cowboys & Aliens was filmed, and I hiked to the top of the spaceship a few times, including once on my own and once with a group of feral women at midnight during a full moon (I know, right?). By the end of the week, my tailbone and butt didn't hurt as much as I expected, but my hips did, all that pulling up of myself, those tight, high steps, the coming down off impossible mesas.
There's a photo that the impressive and inspiring Amy Siskind took of me hoisting myself via a rope through a tight and steep crevice, something a bit like metaphysical birth (or whatever, maybe I'm grasping a bit too far here). I haven't seen it, but she assured me she took it, so if you're lucky enough to know her, ask her sometime. I had climbed this before years ago, before the rope was put in place, and this was certainly less dangerous but then again I take less risks these days.
Towards the end of the trip, Jason picked me up at Ghost Ranch and we went to Lake Abiquiu, a dammed "lake" fed by the Chama River. There are rattle snakes in the lake, but like Jason said, there are snakes in any body of water and they have as much of a right to be there as we do, if not more. Even though the water was low, it was still deep enough to jump off big rocks into the water, an act that's always terrified me. I did testers at increasing heights, plummeting myself on my own accord to see if I could touch the snaky bottom, which I couldn't.
I'm still not back on P90X, and when I last ran with Major Tom, before I left for New Mexico, my butt muscle hurt. But I think I'm ready. The only thing stopping me at this point is my own laziness. I have been keeping up with Ab Ripper X, though, at the gym, along with swimming, using the elliptical and lifting weights, so I'm getting there. I tried to do some pull-ups at Ghost Ranch whenever I passed the jungle gym, and could feel myself being at once strong and weak, and it was good to feel my back muscles clicking awake all at once.
There's a group women's mountain bike ride tonight at Frick, but I'm hesitant about going. I'm under-rested despite being "on vacation" for the past ten days - smiling for 10 consecutive days is apparently exhausting - and have a lot of work to do at home. Thankfully, my boss gave me the day off since I stayed late yesterday and she's at court all day today anyway, so I have a bit of time to catch up.
On a last note, follow me on Twitter!
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