First sign of Autumn

It's cool and windy out. I also ran 11 miles this weekend. So . . . Cookies!

I was also invited to a "70's Party." I think with some fitting boots, this dress is the perfect costume.
I think I'll start at the Goodwill or something -- see what I can find. And I'll need a hair-stylist. And some accessories.

Finding Significance

A few weeks back, KC, Emily, and I went to Yosemite. My first time. It was a little overwhelming. Huge. Grandiose. Hard to imagine how our little lives have much meaning in the face of this age, beauty, and enormity. Alas.
My posts are rather . . . contemplative (for lack of a more creative word) lately, aren't they?

I got to Sonora before everyone so I had time to get totally freaked out by the scorpions in KC's cabin, sweep the spiderwebs away, and make some dinner. I also had time to take a lot of pictures of cows. A lot of pictures.

And a video. Of a baby cow running. That's all it is. A baby cow running. If you don't like baby cows running, you may as well skip this video.

Untitled from HMR on Vimeo.

KC volunteered her cabin in Sonora for the weekend. Lovely! Rustic.
Here's the momma cow giving the baby cow a bath. It was a little bit gross, but not so much that I didn't stare out the window the whole time I was chopping veggies (for what turned out to be fabulous veggie enchiladas).

That evening, Emily sang some songs while the rest of us had some wine and listened to the dogs running all over the place. Between them, they have 3 rather exuberant dogs.

Sleeping quarters (after the sleeping bags had been removed). We'd initially talked about camping somewhere, so I had it in my head that we'd be sleeping outside. It wasn't hard to talk everyone else into it. Though KC ended up on the bed inside at some point. Sleeping outside with strange noises isn't all romance and starry skies when there are 3 exuberant, and hyper-alert, dogs around.
Saturday morning we putzed around a bit and then went to the park. But first, took the what seemed like 18 dogs out to run and swim.
Here's a picture of a dog who doesn't know how little she is. She's barking at that cow like there's no tomorrow:

I ended up driving. A lot. And then some more. I'd rather be on the driver's seat on windy roads, but my lord it was a long day. I got a little grump on, but then we stopped for some food and a potty break, and it was better.
We got near the entrance and there were lots of warning signs saying it was going to be a long wait. For some reason, KC didn't believe it. Like maybe those signs were left over from something else. Here's the scene we came across.
The sign makes me laugh a little. I don't know why it's there.

After lots of slow driving and inspiring scenary, we got out of the car at our first tourist destination: Bridalveil Falls. Though some signs call it Bridalveil Fall.
We got up there -- about a 1/4 mile walk from the car, amidst a mass of people, lots of whom were scrambling on the rocks.
And there's this fabulous scene. Low water levels in mid-summer.
And KC and Emily start scrambling up the rocks too.I
I wasn't really feeling it. And not just because the sign said it was dangerous. But I waited patiently and took it all in. And I tried to listen to people's conversations, until I realized that dangerous places are where people go to bring out their bad-parenting skills, and then I just focused on the sound of the falls.

Bridge #1 of the day.
We decided to go for a little hike. If you walk away from the touristy places and the paved path, there aren't any people. We hiked for over 5 miles and saw maybe 3 other groups on the trail. On the road was a different story.
Here's an attempt at a self-portrait that turned out rather well, especially if you're not Emily.
Some passers-by who were certainly not French condescended to pause their short walk for a quick photo.
So we started the hike. We kept passing signs that said, "El Capitan Bridge: 2.1 miles" or "2.4 miles" or ".5 miles" but there was no sign of a bridge. I was very excited to see El Cap every time we rounded a bend and imagined the lovely, perhaps archaic, perhaps suspended, perhaps a demonstration of modern architecture, fabled bridge.
So we kept hiking. I kept a pretty good pace going, and sometimes turned around to try to get a picture, but I would stop, turn around to get the picture, only to find that KC and Emily also stopped. It wasn't a very good picture. So I asked them to pretend they were walking.
We hiked and hiked and sang and tried to focus on drinking only as much water as we needed because whenever we found this surely-amazing bridge, we would still only be halfway, as we would then turn around and go back (even though I tried to convince them to hitchhike back to the car with me). A little REO Speedwagon, a little Beatles, and . . . what? Lots of hiking-appropriate songs.
So we finally get to this place where the trail ends and there's a busy road and a million people and a stream. And we find Bridge #2.
The lovely El Cap Bridge. Actually, it looks a lot lovelier in this photo than it actually was. Especially after I'd been building it up in my head all day.
Here it is again, without the scenary:
Humph.

El Cap on the way back.
Some happenings along the hike: I got stung by a bee (not allergic!). I got bored and made them run. Emily was, unbeknownst to her, cast as an extra in this photo:

Emily had us skipping. KC wasn't into the skipping or the running, but she did get a photo.
KC had a camera and I had a camera, but Emily didn't have a camera, so there weren't a lot of photos of just me and KC. So Emily offered (after I asked):
It took several takes to get it just right, and I guess I got tired of waiting. I don't think KC knew what was happening until later because she's not blushing here and everything makes KC blush. Unless it's a movie, and then she cries.
I think I took about 20 photos of El Capitan. So imposing and incredible.
Along the trail.
KC's photo as I was driving.

Bridge #3. Oh, we also must have been singing the Eagles, because there was some "Seven Bridges Road" with bad harmony at some point.
(Actually the other side of Bridge #1, but it's still quite cute).

Back of Yosemite Lodge. A lovely, historical hotel.

Mmmhmm. I need one of these for my house.

That night, we had another fabulous dinner, some more wine, and more singing. There are two things portrayed in this video. 1) Emily covering Art Garfunkel and his prettier sidekick in For Emily, Whenever I may find her and 2) KC exhibiting how when she has a few drinks, she doesn't stop talking. So if you like listening to Emily sing, but don't like distractions, this video isn't for you. I find it kind of amusing, and I love this song. How come no one ever wrote, "For Heather, whenever I may find her"?

Emily For Emily from HMR on Vimeo.

The next day, after even more morning-fuffeling, we went on another hike, straight down into this little canyon that has a small river where the dogs swam, and this amazing, eery cave. I hear-tell you can swim through to the other side and it opens up again. Maybe next time.
















Bridge #4.

Then we drove home and stopped in Amador Conty for a little taste of wine. We went to the winery whose name I can't remember, but that has this very small pond with a giant boat.
What a lovely time. Next year, we're going back to climb Half Dome. Who's in?

Cross-training or crossed-wires?

Long story short: I'm training for a half-marathon. Running again. Crazy. Maybe.

Fall weather, motivation, training, distractions, discipline.

Different view, training with friends, slowed to the common denominator pace, built-in walking.

Once, as an adolescent, said, "I'm so bored, I don't even know what to do. I can barely move, but too restless to stay still."

When was that? Why was that? Do I train for things because of some discontentment or restlessness? Do I over-schedule my time to avoid that terrible boredom?

What did Ursula K. LeGuin say? "This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain." Or something like that.

Wondering. Wandering. Running. Biking.

Don't suppose I can erase the discontent by running for 13.1 miles. Nor can I flee from myself by pedaling harder.

But alas. I seem to continue to try. There's contentment in that.

Bump, Set, Spike

Last night, I picked up a volleyball for the first time in about 10 years. It was just like riding a bike. Okay, it wasn't at all like riding a bike, and I shanked it a few times, but it was pretty cool that I could still go through the motions and look like I know what I'm doing (well, there was a guy sitting in the hallway with a clear view of me hitting the ball against the wall, and I'm pretty sure I could hear him laughing). Now all I have to do is actually go in the gym when other people are playing and play with them. I hear-tell Saturday afternoons are good for volleyball-pick-up. Anyone in? Preferably, would like to hear from people who have also not played for 15 years (or more).

I guess the rules have changed a little since I played, but it seems like they are doing all the same things. Serve, bump, set, spike, repeat.

Look out Gabrielle Reece!

Artist

I've always been a little jealous of artists. And writers. And musicians. Okay, anyone who has talent and skill and creativity and does something with it.

That concludes the "confessional" portion of this post.

So if you've met T, you will know what an amazing likeness this is. If you haven't, you can take my word for it. Either way, it's a great painting, created and masterfully executed by the scary-looking, but lovely, romantic, caring, sweet, and fabulous, Zeljko (pronounced "Jel-co" . . . I think).

Fabulous, no?

Hope you don't mind pilfering from your site, T! Just loved the painting.

Day 4, NorCal AIDS Challenge 2009

May 17, 2009
Mileage: 52.48
Total: 335.56
Camp: N/A. Arrive at State Capitol!

Whew. What a ride. This year was my 3rd time riding and for the third time, the 4th day was the best (riding) day. It's not because it's only 50 miles. Not because I know it's about to be over (that part is actually a little sad). Hmm. Maybe it IS because it's only 50 miles.
Here's what happened on Day 4. Get up in the a.m. at our deluxe accommodations, eat lots of breakfast because after 3 days of this, the hunger starts piling up, but not too much because I still have to ride without puking (ideally), pack up for the last time, and start lining up. Joaquin talked about the route (wherein, we would be staring at Sacramento for a while that morning, about 12 miles from where we were standing, but would ride for 50 miles before we were through), and then told us to gab with our neighbors (something we're good at) about what the most meaningful part of the ride had been thus far.

My neighbor happened to be Jon, who had gotten up to speak on the first night about services he receives from CARES. Most memorable/meaningful for me was not climbing table mountain, or crying at lunch on Day 2, or even the victory of making it to Woodland on Day 3 without crying (something I cannot say for last year). This year it was listening to Jon and Clyde and Dr. Flamm speak on the first night. Holy smokes. We are taking action that touches lives. We might not be a huge piece of these organizations' budgets, but we are touching lives all the same. More than any other service I've provided via this ride and whatever else I happen to do, sitting there listening to the daily reality of someone living with AIDS was a big wake up for me. There but for the grace of God go I.

Anyway. This post is about Day 4. Jon's most memorable was the friends he'd made and the 'family' feelings and the many types of accomplishment associated.

So we start riding and I decide I'm going to ride with Roger -- whatever it takes. Roger is all muscle. I think even his hair is made of muscle. People line up for days to take his spin classes and then they crawl out of them, dripping with sweat. But, yeah. I'm going to ride with him.

Roger is riding with Jason and Ed. Jason, Ed, Roger, and me riding (into the wind) from Woodland to Winters. They ride fast. They don't call him "Fast Eddie" for nothin'. Jason and Ed took turns pulling and Roger and I, more or less, hid behind them as a wind-block and tried to keep up. Cycling 20-25mph (varied) for 50 miles has never been my strong suit but I had last-day excitement, motivation to keep up or ride alone in the wind, and ego on my side.

I apologized later for not offering to pull, but I am sure that I would have been pulling around 12mph which is more of a drag than a pull.

Even with driving through towns, stopping at rest stops, slowing for trains, etc, I averaged 18.5mph that day. Not too shabby.

On to the photabulousness.

So KC and Bronwyn look all cute and ready to go, and I am to' up. There are a million photos I won't even attach here because of my to'-up-ed-ness. Puffy eyes, puffy everything, sleeping outside, yadda yadda. Ouch.

I think this is the 'getting ready to go' phase and listening to Joaquin. I like it for two reasons: I put my sunglasses back on so the puffy eyes are hidden, and I'm still smiling after 3+ days.

Riders doing what they do. Though I don't know why they are doing it two-abreast.

I like this photo. Another of KC's (a lot of these are, as I was too busy chasing boys to take pictures).

I didn't get many photos of this little scene, but here's what happened. We're pulling out of Davis, and we get stuck at the railroad tracks by a train that's going about 8 miles an hour, pulling forward, stopping, and then reversing. People started talking about going around by going through town the other way. I wasn't really down with that, but everyone seemed to be hanging out waiting anyway.

As we're standing there, a bride and groom and photographer come out of nowhere. Seriously -- all that's on that corner is a hardware store and a lumber yard. Where did they come from? Who gets married in a lumber yard? Some riders called them over and had the photographer take photos of the happy couple (at least for now) surrounded by red and yellow jerseys. I didn't play along. Newlyweds scare me.

May as well take a self-portrait as long as I'm waiting around, though.

A few photos of riders that are either on the Davis-side of the causeway or just after the causeway. Just after the causeway, in West Sacramento (6 miles from my house. aye), were a gaggle of crew members pulled over the side of the road. They gave us 'five' as we road by -- so some of these shots are not just of one-handed riding, but action shots of a high-five in progress.

Coral, still going strong: Ron. You know what I like about Ron? He's rather understated (to which I can relate), he gets big grins when he's excited about something, and he gets big grins over NCAC. He was one of the first people to sign up 2010. I sort of think this ride changed something in him. I don't know that for sure though. It seems like over these 4 days (plus, maybe several months of training), he grew very very large and enveloped the Ride, the Challenge, the people, all within this huge space he'd created. It's really something else.
Mindy-Lou! Mindy told me she doesn't see good pictures of herself. I told her I don't see bad ones. Look at this smile! Look how happy she is after 4 days on the bike. This photo would really capture Mindy if at the same time, you could hear her laugh, feel her compassion, be reminded of her undying thoughtfulness, and get a hug.

Jana and Amber. Jana mows down the NCAC like she's got something to prove. Maybe she does, but I think it's mostly to herself. Part of what she proved this year was how much amazing progress she'd made since last year.
Harry. Seriously Jeff, do you have any other expression? I don't think so. And the good-natured exuberance to go along with it.
Here's Roger and Me! Still keeping up.
Here's the park where we secretly all gather so we can ride in together to Capitol steps. What's great about this photo is that all these people are 1) men and

2) waiting for the bathroom.

How often do you see a huge group of guys lined up for the bathrooms?

Me and Clyde! What a sweetheart. You remember him from the first night? Well, he did it!

Coral, Kelly, and Me. I thought I was puffy-eyed. Ha. Coral had some sort of reaction to something or other in Davis and her eyes swelled up and she had to take benedryl. How she made it from Davis to Sacramento while on that potent sleep-elixir, I'll never know.
Jana, Jen, Me. The West Sac girls.
Me and Emily. Emily crewed fabulously this year. I think she was even more tired than I was come Sunday.
Roger and Me! How cute is he? It's nice to be seeing his face, here, after staring at his backside all day (though that wasn't so bad either).
Tara and her boy, ready to ride in. That little guy got all the glory with none of the pain.
And here it is.

Doug riding in with the "Memory Wheel." All those slips of paper are folks remembering loved ones we've lost to HIV/AIDS or sharing why they are doing this ride. If you ever have a chance to spend a few minutes with this wheel, bring your tissue. Excitedly coming in.

Lining up. Listening (sort of) to Joaquin talk.Impressive, no?

Listening intently.
Bronwyn, Me, Emily. The sad thing about Day 4 is that it's all over. Four days together, on the road, at camp, sharing stories, getting close, and then . . . time to go home.
Me and my mom! I was just saying I don't have any recent photos of us together. My mom, her husband John, and my sister Karen came out for the final ride-in. I was a little nervous to ride in and see them all -- I suppose mostly because they hadn't been to the end before and it was a huge deal for me, but I wasn't sure whether it would be for them, or if they would wish they hadn't made the trip. As it turned out, it was a pretty big deal for them too -- or they faked it on my behalf.

Then we went to the Famous Sugarmill for a little vino! Karen told everyone that I had just ridden 330 miles in the past 4 days. She started most conversations that way, actually.

Wow. Another year over. And we're already getting ready for next year. I am still adjusting to the idea that this will be my 4th year riding . . . provided I make it that far. Many thanks to all of you supporters -- for all the various kinds of support you give. I really don't think I could do it without you. And I'd rather not find out.