Remembering Ryan

**The following events happened exactly 5 years ago. Tip back an IPA tonight in memory of a man who is gone but will never be forgotten. What you are about to read is an excerpt from my book, "Leaping into Lovers Lane."

The hike up to the base of Goat Wall left him wiping his brow. The load in his backpack was much lighter this time since he wasn't burdened with the weight of climbing hardware. He had only brought his climbing harness, shoes, rope and a few karabiners for the rappel descent. Still, the twenty-minute steep approach was not for the faint of heart, nor the out of shape.

After removing his backpack, a gentle September breeze swept up from the Methow Valley and flapped his sweat-drenched T-shirt away from his skin. Lost River flowed three hundred feet below on the valley floor, twisting and turning its way through sparsely populated Mazama, Washington, located on the North Eastern flanks of the Cascade Mountains, emptying into the Columbia River and hundreds of miles away into the Pacific Ocean. The sights and sounds of the Methow Valley filled his senses as the sun kissed him.

Makiah, our twenty-five-pound miniature Australian Shepherd, was panting too.  The big steps he had to take during the scramble up in the talus field were enormous leaps for her. Yet he didn’t need to assist her, she had made it up on her own. He’d contemplating shaving her fur - especially since she was miserable in the late season summer heat. But fall was just around the corner and she'd be more than a little humiliated without her signature shaggy coat.

Squinting up at the rock, he quickly found his rock-climbing route, Prime Rib on Goat Wall. Rated a moderate sport climb, where metal bolts are drilled into the rock face, the climb gains a total of 650 feet. He knew exactly where it started since he had researched the climb quite a bit. That morning he had spoken with Brian Burdo, who had developed a lot of the sport climbs in the Mazama and surrounding area, including Prime Rib, and received a first hand account of what to expect on each portion of the climb. He was so confident in his choice of climb that day that he left the climbing guidebook back at his one room rustic cabin about a mile up Lost River road. He was, after all, an expert and experienced climber, rope or no rope.

Climbing suited his athletic and compact frame. His strong, muscular hands could cling onto the smallest rock features while his body contorted sideways. He could flex his core so tightly it would momentarily suspend him, weightless on the rock. Not only was he built for rock climbing, but also his pain threshold and ability to transcend through discomfort allowed him to push the limits.

Pushing his limit happened every time he encountered rock. Each and every time he approached rock he would show up ready to improve his climbing through sheer grit, determination and hard work. It provided a portal to his nirvana: improving himself through climbing.

His confidence had grown as he gained experience climbing in countless regions around the world. Over ten years of practice, rocks had become extensions of his body. Everything in his life revolved around climbing. All vacations were at climbing destinations; he frequented climbing forums and all of his friends were climbers. He lived, breathed, and slept climbing.  He would climb with such passion and become so obsessed with what he was doing, that in those moments, nothing else mattered.

Armed with information on what to expect on the Prime Rib route, and knowledge that the climb was rated well within his ability, he decided to climb without a partner and the added protection of using a rope to ascend.

He set his backpack down, pulled out his climbing harness, shoes, rope, and chalk bag, and took a big swig of water. Sitting down on a flat rock, he took off his approach shoes and carefully slipped on his tight climbing shoes.

"You stay here, Makiah."

He didn't even bother to tie her up. He didn't need to. Makiah was well trained and did as she was told. Plus she rarely wandered and always stayed within earshot. He stashed his backpack near the base of the climb and left Makiah with some water. He slung a seventy-meter rope over his shoulder, crisscrossing it around his chest, and secured it with a series of climber knots so it wouldn't impede his ascent. He planned on using the rope to descend. He chalked up his hands and with that he started to climb up the loose adventure route. This was it, one last climb before heading home to Seattle after spending a week in Mazama. One final climb to top a fun filled week full of recreation in the Pacific Northwest.

Makiah watched as her owner started the ascent up Goat Wall, and once he was out of sight she dug herself a comfortable spot to wait and keep careful guard over her owner’s backpack.

She was the last being to see him alive.

All you have to do is pick the day

A friends profound six year old painted a 3' canvass with the words, "All you have to do is pick the day." It hangs boldly in their living room as a reminder that if there's a life out there you long for, then pick the day.

Really. It is that simple.

As it would turn out, both parents had lifelong dreams of taking their kids abroad. They wanted to provide them with a South American experience and get off the grid. They wanted to leave behind the stress of the city, the constant whirl of texts, emails and play dates so they could show their kids they live what they teach them.

This past spring they picked the day. They are going to Argentina. They let their employers know, arranged for house renters, took care of the necessary details and are living the life of their dreams. They picked the day and stuck to it.

If there are things you long for in life: painting, writing, moving to a sunny spot with mountains, reaching for the stars, starting a business, moving to Argentina, getting married, etc. All you have to do is pick the day.

The choice is yours. So what are you waiting for?

Daring Greatly

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again,

because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause;

who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly..."

- Theodore Roosevelt's "Citizenship in a Republic."

I could taste it.

The one water bottle rule didn't work today. You know, the one I told you about before. Some coach told my friend Tela Crane that she could be pissed/upset/sad/mad/frustrated about the outcome of a race for one water bottle's worth. After sucking down its contents, you chalk up those feelings to experience. You sit back, and say to yourself, hot damn. I got to do what I love today. And sure it didn't pan out as hoped. But it paned out.

A champion is not someone who wins all the time. Sure, that helps. But a true champion is someone who learns from their mistakes and sees them as opportunities to improve.

Tandem racing is a trip. It's all about tactics, and figuring out the momentum game. Picking the right line, the right wheel and staying out of harms way. Just like racing the single bike. But the speeds are higher on the descents, the cornering that much more exaggerated and the accelerations slow. It's also way more fun because it's a new challenge. And I get to share it with a blind athlete, Shawn.

We came in 6th today. I was racing aggressively for 3rd place since the break up the road had the first two podium spots. We were chasing hard to bridge and overcome the Polish. Going into the steep descent and right hand turn, I told Shawn to hold on. We FLEW through the last corner, easily hitting 40 mph. Then came the curb. Up we went, through a family on the sidewalk and almost t-boning a 4 year old on a bike. We lost our momentum. The Polish were gone and the Great Britain Team and other USA team came by. We pushed, we pulled, we put everything we had into it, but our chance was gone. DAMN!

To be so close to a podium. To taste it, smell it, feel it. To be SO CLOSE!!! I would be lying if I didn't say I wasn't disappointed. That I'm going to just chalk this one up to experience.

Next week we have another opportunity. The stakes are higher - a world championship title is on the line. More opportunity to live and grow. And bottom line: more bike racing!!!

9 Tips to Going Pro

Tip #1 - Stop dabbling as an amateur. If you really want to be pro you've got to look it, think it, feel it and act it.

Tip #2 - Don't accept excuses from yourself. Get up everyday and do exactly what will make you a professional. Forget that weekend warrior stuff - a pro is someone who takes themselves seriously.

Tip #3 - Change your perspective! The biggest difference between being a pro and an amateur lies within your mind. Commit to yourself and take it seriously.

Tip #4 - Get the right gear and a great coach. Whether that be a business coach, writing coach, cycling coach or underwater basket weaver. You deserve the best! Look right and feel right.

Tip #5 - Take ownership of your gifts and believe in yourself. You can do it! You are on this planet for a reason and make a difference for other people. Express yourself!

Tip #6 - Commit to what you want to be, even when the going gets tough. Breakthroughs will happen but you must first persevere through adversity.

Tip #7 - Create a practice and dedicate yourself. Practice makes perfect. So perfect practicing.

Tip #8 - Watch out for saboteurs! Those people or little voices of self doubt can creep up on you. Stay strong and align yourself with supporters.

Tip #9 - Be your own creator. Ah, there grasshopper, lies the key.

Making Gains

I sometimes wonder if I was in Shawn's shoes and couldn't see what terrain was ahead, if that would help. Think about it - you would never know how big a hill or an obstacle was unless you had experienced it before and you wouldn't psyche yourself out as a result. I'm sure my eyes have conditioned my mind, especially when it comes to long, steep hills. You see them coming, you know it's going to hurt and if your legs are tired or your mind is ready to play tricks on you, well then - you suffer before the climb even begins.

But if you couldn't see - all you could do is feel...

Talk about living in the moment. All you know is what you're experiencing right then and there. You couldn't see to judge something, you could only live it.

We suffered on some hills today. And then we suffered some more. I tell Shawn we're approaching a hill and then try to estimate how many seconds or minutes to the top so she knows how long to push. It's her way of seeing what's coming. I don't tell her how much it's going to hurt or if my legs are screaming - no way. Instead I tell her how well we are doing, how much we're fighting and to stand and eventually sit. Focusing on the positive and keeping a good attitude does wonders for getting up hills as quickly as possible, even if you feel slow as dirt.

We put a big deposit in the bank for the upcoming World Championships held at the end of this month. And although the altitude was a little bit of a culprit today, we still made some excellent progress.

And then we got to test and see what our maximum power is on the bike. Ouchie!

How to get your best power numbers ever.

I could see the thunderstorm in the distance. The sky touched the ground in dark purple and grey as a crooked flash of lightening sliced through the undefined clouds. The wind was still at my back, making my pedaling easier but bringing me closer to the storm.

I saw the landmark cell tower in the distance, summoning me to turn east. I kept glancing at the 20 mile wide storm cell, willing it to head north. Follow the wind, I thought.

Follow the wind.

And it got closer, and closer. I could feel the electricity in the air on my face. It brought moisture and panic, all at once. My mind started racing as the wind shifted dramatically. A cool stiff gust pushed south, directly in my path.

I kept riding.

What if I ride through the middle of that?
What if I get struck by lightening?
What if? What if? WHAT IF?!?

A flash illuminates the sky. I'm still listening to my iPod and I miss hearing the thunder. I can't count the seconds between the strike and the boom. I feel it though. Its hiss is on my right shoulder, the boom surrounding me in all directions. The sky overhead looks like a deep skin bruise full of yellow, purple, blue and blood.

There's no where to hide. There's nothing for miles. And there's no traffic on this desolate road.

I ride faster than I have ever ridden before. I don't look at my power meter, I ignore my screaming body. I put my head down, tucking into an aero position and ride like my life depends on it. I ride through the wind, outpacing the storm by only a few miles per hour. If I can just make it to town, everything will be okay.

I have enough sense to capture this moment. If I just make it to town, I'll have another tool to draw upon when I'm training and racing - one that taps into the most basic survival instinct.

I keep pushing and pushing and then the rain starts, slowly at first. Could that be my own sweat? I look down at my top tube and see that it's wet. I increase my pace, and keep my eyes on town. It's getting closer as the drops grow bigger.

If I can just make it to town....

Holding Hands

A weekend of firsts....

Friday night Benjamin and I headed to the track for some racing. Earlier in the day I received a text from Maddie saying that Cari was running a Madison clinic for interested ladies and asked if I would be interested in helping out.

"OF COURSE!!!" was my response.

I love the Madison! Better yet, I love sharing and teaching others something I feel passionate about: holding hands and going fast as humanly possible.

What is a Madison? Why it's a disguised track points race. One where you and your partner dosey doe while other teams are doing the same on a bike with no brakes. It's wild, it's hard, it's dangerous. It's AMAZING.

Pat McDonough set up an exhibition women's Madison night and the ladies rallied. We had 10 women show up, ready to give it a whirl. Cari paired the experienced racers with the non in a 20 lap non-competitive first ever Colorado Springs 7/11 Velodrome Women's Madison! I had the honor of flinging Amanda Cyr into the race while she shot putted me into the corners. We had a blast!

I am so excited about this. And even more thrilled to be a part of a new movement, again. (I might have had a little something to do with the Madison scene at Marymoor. :))

Afterward, Ben and I got to hold hands in the men's 50 lap Madison. Around and around we went, going blow for blow with Jo and her partner Dave, Sarah and Cari and then getting lapped multiple times by Colby and Jake. I will say this: the competition in Colorado is the best in the country.

And

I have the best partner in the Universe.

Winning in Life

I've composed over ten blog entries in my mind over the past couple of weeks. They come to me when I'm just about to start an interval or go uphill. They get lost during the exertion, only to be forgotten hours later when I have the time and brain power to get them down on paper.

Life is full of cycles. The warmth of summer lingers, as do late season races and goals. Except this year is different. I'm not going to Master or Elite Track Nationals. This year all of my hard work and dedication, intervals, sacrifices, perseverance and grit paid off: Shawn and I will be racing at the ParaCycling world championships.

Ten years of work and now a career defining opportunity is on my doorstep. I am so thankful and grateful for the opportunity. And I'm thrilled knowing I have the huge support of my community, family and friends behind me. When I stand on top of the podium, know that I'm thinking of all those moments, big and small, that have brought me to this moment, this now.

A quick visit home last weekend helped me realize just how much I love my life now. I love where I live, in these purple mountains. I love the sunshine that shines brightly everyday. I love that Benjamin and I are growing older together. I love that as I type, Moonli lays snoring a few feet away, my loyal office companion, while Makiah lays on her bed in the other bedroom. I am feeling lucky, lucky indeed.

From ProVelo Passion Image by Mary Topping.

Taken from the DailyCamera.com Photo by Cliff Grassmick

Love, your newly crowned Colorado State Crit Champion. BOOM!

Taking Stock

What really matters:

Enjoying this moment, right here, right now.

Being grateful for life's opportunities.

Letting those I love know it in so many different ways.

Never giving up.

Looking at the sunniest of sunny sides.

Exploring, playing and in search of adventures.

Laughing, heartily.

Celebrating!

How Failure Helps You Win.

"Failure is the key to success, each mistake teaches us something."

That was my mantra during several moments of todays' race. Not that I was throwing in the towel by any means. Even after having a strange mechanical where our brakes engaged and felt like someone threw on the emergency brake, seeing the pack get a little too far away and then chasing with everything we had, every ounce of fiber, as the men's and two women's tandems went up the road. But we just couldn't close the gap, and they galloped away. The National Championship Title just rode away.

This can't be happening, I thought. Oh shit, Shawn. I'm so sorry.

My mind turned a switch. It went from savvy, confident racer to being off the back. My heart grew heavy, my demeanor changed. Shawn could feel it, she told me afterward. I knew the exact moment it happened. That little voice of self doubt creeped in... and I tried pushing it out. I tried shutting it down. Tried telling it to "SHUT UP LEGS!" But the move went up the road. And my head hung heavy.

Tandem racing is unlike any other thing I've done athletically. It pushes you in so many ways. It demands strength, skill, speed, legs, grit and hard work. It requires 100% trust in your partner. It's an equal effort, we both want it bad so we train hard to get there. Individually, I work on all of those things. I practice and cycle, go to sleep and then repeat. My life is built around doing just that. So when you're tested, truly tested to the core and that foundation gets raddled by a poor performance, it makes you think. It makes you re-evaluate things. It makes you try to figure out what, when, why and how.

Regardless of what exactly happened today, I know I have some things to work on. Yes, I would have loved for a perfect performance today, especially for us and for Shawn. I would have loved to be zipping up that National Championship jersey up to our chinney chin chins. I would love to be looking at Shawn while standing atop the podium and celebrating our success. But today was not the day.

Today was not the day.

But tomorrow is another opportunity, another chance to get stronger. We have a world championship to crush. That will be our day.


(PS - We did get selected the world championship team yesterday!!!)

Team Shawnifer Updates

Greetings from Waterloo, Wisconsin!

It's the day after the 26.5 km time trial, in the early morning hours, watching the Tour and doing a little catch up and all things outside of the cycling world. Well, the world outside of my own little cycling universe. Funny how it tends to consume everything. And by everything I mean every waking moment is centered around being on the bike or being off the bike and making the most of recovery time, especially in the summer time.

We had a great ride yesterday. The ten days Shawn spent with me in Colorado Springs was time well spent. We dialed in our standing sprints, our accelerations and momentum carried over the hills and cornering. We still have more work to do - but are off to an exciting and excellent start. 38 minutes 3.5 seconds of putting pain in the back seat and saying yes to pushing through the rolling farm hills of Wisconsin.

We'll find out by 2pm central time today the world championship selection for late August. If selected, we'll get more and more time together on the bike for training camps in preparation for our debut in Quebec.

In the meantime we're trying to find funding to purchase our own racing tandem, which will replace the American Blind Association's stars and bars loaner we have been super lucky to start on. Cycling is a crazy expensive sport.

We're working on PR and getting a website up and going. If you would like to contribute to our quest toward world domination (website design, donation ideas, fundraising, creative housing ideas, etc), please contact me! It takes a village....

Updates

Two weeks!!! It's already been two weeks since my last entry?

Here's a quick recap on what's been happening:
Shawn and I got 3rd in a world cup! You read that right. We are officially on Team USA and International Medalists. Boom!

A super duper long travel day home. For some reason it feels harder coming back to the US then leaving. 24 hours of travel left me a little tired.

Racing Dead Dog in Laramie, Wyoming - sucked some wind and came in quite a bit of time down from the winner. Next day: the crit and time trial. Went for and won a $190 prime (which was more than the overall for the Stage Race win) and had a great break through in the time trial. Let's just say I figured out a new protocol to follow during the race and it is MONEY. It is on.

The past week Shawn's been here training at altitude. We've put quite a bit of time in together on the tandem and made some HUGE improvements.  Standing starts, sprints, time trial efforts, pushing through the heat, just to name a few. We're really looking forward to Nationals next week and racing to our potential.

What's next? Well the World Championship selection is based off of the time trial results and we should  know what's happening by July 5th. Here's to super fast legs and setting a new course record!

In the meantime... I fell back in love with track racing. Had a sweet night out at the track yesterday duking it out with Katie Compton and Missy Erickson. Though the women's scene is small, it is strong. Add a few more people in the mix and we have a pretty sweet field! I'm registered for Master Nationals in Indy.... and thinking about Marymoor GP. Kind of depends on what happens with the worlds selection.... will keep you all updated!

Till then, keep on keeping on.

Pre-flight Arousal

I have goosebumps and feel like I could jump out of my skin right now.

In a few short hours, Shawn and I will be in the starting house, ready to take flight on a flat 22km time trial course in Segovia, Spain. I'm trying to contain myself, trying to not expend too much energy and channel all of that energy into going FAST. BUT I'M HAVING A HARD TIME!!!!!!!

To have put so much time and energy into something: the hundreds of training hours, the mental fortitude, the collective moments of pushing through the pain cave, the I can't's turned into I CAN, the emotional and physical breakthroughs. And now we get to perform. We get to take everything we've trained so hard for and race against the clock.

I am so grateful for this. To be living my life to the fullest. To take this opportunity and make the most out of it. I'm crying tears of joy.

Thank yous

Happiness is receiving two hand written thank you notes in the mail in the same day saying you've had a positive impact on someone's life.

And it also serves as a reminder that going out of your way to say thank you goes a long way.

Creating change.

"I see what you're saying. That you're looking at his death as a gift. And that brings up the urgency of our limited time on Earth and the preciousness of life."

"Exactly."

"That's so different then what I've read out there."

"I know. That's why I'm driven to write it. I want to start a different conversation."


A change agent is an event, organization, material thing, or more usually, a person that acts as a catalyst  for change.

"The success of any kind of social epidemic is heavily dependent on the involvement of people with a particular and rare set of social gifts." - Malcom Gladwell

5 characteristics of successful change agents: Clear vision, patient yet persistent, asks tough questions, knowledgable and leads by example and has strong relationships built on trust. 

Check, check, check, check and check. 

Get ready world - things are going to change. 

Chapter Three - Urgency excerpt

(A little teaser for my regulars. Thank you all for being patient while I work on my book. Regular blog posts will resume.... eventually.)

Still in my shin-height nightgown and before drinking black coffee, I pulled the drawstring cord to open the horizontal oak blinds. Light beamed into my eggplant purple bedroom, illuminating dust balls. We painted this room seven years ago, together. I look down to the dirty hamper directly beneath the window and focus on the backpack that has been sitting there for three weeks. The time feels right. This is one of the baby steps I have to take. I take a big breath of air, mustering up the courage to open the grey Deuter pack and go through the contents inside.

The pack smells of dirt, metal and sweat, Ryan’s sweat. I sit down cross-legged on the floor, take another deep breath and make sure I want to do this now. It’s only been three weeks and yet it’s already been three weeks. I’m thankful someone hasn’t written a manual on the proper timing for going through someone’s belongings after they die. I am ready now but that could change in a heartbeat. I sit up tall and start carefully at the top of the pack, locking each moment of discovery deep in my memory banks. In order for this to feel right I want to remember everything, down to the finest detail. I am looking for clues, anything that would tell me why Ryan died. I wanted an explanation or a reason. Something that would make me feel better.

In the top lid of the pack are tools of the trade: two drill bits, a wrench on a piece of bright orange cordlet and a sandwich bag full of gymnastic block chalk. No obvious clues there. Each item is a sign of his commitment to the sport. They are just objects with no attached meaning. They do nothing to soothe my sadness and broken heart.

I sit up tall again, folding down the lid and opening the drawstring for the main compartment. I catch a whiff of something rotten. Something smells like it’s been left in a hot car too long. Tears stream down my face, dripping onto my nightgown. 

Inside of a lunch size brown paper bag is a soggy peanut butter and honey sandwich and red apple. The apple is soft to the touch and needs to be thrown out. Taking this step and acknowledging the passage of time that all organic matter decomposes, I close my eyes. I long for what might have been.  Seeing his lunch confirms what I knew all along: this was an accident. Ryan had full intention of coming home after his climb.

Underneath the brown bag was a blue PowerAid and reused Gatorade bottle nearly full of water. Both were missing small sips. His last sips. I opened the lid and went to put my lips where his had been and couldn’t sit up any longer. My body started shaking as it built up deep sobs. Why? Why Ryan?

Several minutes pass. I try breathing through my stuffy nose, congested with snot. I rub my temples, trying to relieve sinus pressure. If I finish going through the pack now, I will be done. One more step, complete. I glance again at the brown bag, ready to move on.

In the bottom of the bag are his hiking shoes with the laces removed. When Ryan’s body had been discovered, Kevin had used the laces as a leash for Makiah. Tucked into his shoes were balled up black Cane Creek cycling socks with a faint sour foot smell.

Sad yet thankful I finished the job, I sigh. I didn’t find the clues I was looking for.  

Coal Miners Repeat!

Seeing one lap to go surprised me. Where did the time go? I was on the front, getting ready for any late race attacks and had my nose out in the wind much more than I should have.

The late race attack comes up the left hand side of the road and the group chases hard. I take several hard power pedal strokes to maintain my speed and then relax settling into the draft in front of me, knowing we still have plenty of time. We're roughly 4km to the finish line.

The last few kilometers are all about staying in position and not falling for any accelerations that might zap the legs for the final sprint. It's also an exercise of patience and trusting your teammate to do what we had talked about prior to the race. You're trying to conserve and be ready to pounce, like a tiger on its prey.

Heather takes the lead going into the second to last corner, accelerating hard making a couple of riders anxious. There's a little reshuffling in the position but I maintain my spot. We make the final left hand turn with Heather still in the lead and I'm sitting fourth wheel. Kori is up out of the saddle along the right side of the road - the best place to be with the wind. Her move is early but I would be foolish not to follow it. We still have 400 meters to the finish line and Christa accelerates as well, coming on the inside of Kori. I know the move is now or never.

Up out of the saddle, all of my power pounds on the pedals, carrying me past Kori and Chritsa. We still have 150 meters to go, and that was everything I have. I hear the crowd from the sidelines and think I hear a rider approaching. I look under my right arm, then glance over my left shoulder. I've created a nice gap and no one is contesting me so I raise my arms high and proud in a V for victory.

The euphoria stays with me for two seconds and then exhaustion takes over. I slump over, surprised by the first win of the year. Tickled that everything went according to plan. Stoked that my teammate did exactly what we had talked about and I was able to deliver a win for the team.  I can't wait to repay the favor!

Oh the places you can go...

These are a few of my favorite things...

Pikes Peak Highway. 14,114 feet. All reachable by bike.

Rock landscapes that should be on the moon. All observed with my own two eyes.

What they say is true, you know.

What goes up, must come down. And that's the best part. At least according to this tall girl.

Some adventures are closer to home than others. The one above is 20 minutes from home up an old gold mining road. I am that lucky.

And today's reminder? We're back in fire season. This is what's left from the Waldo Canyon fire. Tomorrow - more adventures through burn areas.

Temptation

With a strong smell of spring, Benjamin and I zoomed down the Falcon Trail in the Air Force Academy around 6pm last night. Dodging thundershowers and racing daylight, I had one of those "I love it here" rides. And by here, I mean where I am both physically and mentally. I love following Benjamin's quick descents on his mountain bike, love zooming through the forest and over rocky trail sections. Love that my life is what it is and appreciative of so much abundance. And I love that my legs felt amazing, ready for the meandering challenge.

The smells were incredible. An earthy scent: dust, pine needles, green blades of grass, and peppered with small rain drops. I breathed deeply in, thankful for the opportunity to be playing in its presence, full grin on my face as we flew down the trail. Yes, I sang the whole way.

"Who are you talking to?" Benjamin asked at one point.

"Nobody! Just singing!" ZOOM down the trail, booming out the chorus to New Order's song Temptation. Benjamin added the lyrics.

"Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home"

Colorado rain is much different than Washington's. It comes in small spurts and the drops are like fine needles, barely touching the skin. In the high desert, the rain is welcome. It's the greenest I have ever seen it here, thanks to the nightly thundershowers. Funny though, if you were to visit from Seattle, you'd wonder why everything looks brown.

Spring is late. Much later than last year. We are just now hitting temperatures in the 70's. The snow is melting off the surrounding fourteeners and the river and stream banks are bulging. Our street is lined with bright green bulbs, providing shade and color.

Somedays just leave you thankful. Thankful for everything in your life, in this moment, in this lifetime in this Universe. Come visit me in Colorado and I'll take you on those trials so you can feel it too.  Singing is mandatory.

Signs from another dimension....

Days of the week are flying by. The weeks are screaming by too. And we're nearly half way through May? It's not that I mind, not at all. More than anything I notice how different my routine is.

The world keeps spinning madly on. Fingers fly over the keyboard, communicating with my beloved community right next door and thousands of miles away. Getting things done here there and everywhere. My book is one of my main focuses right now so I charge ahead. (Oh just wait! It's going to be good. Really, really good.)

And then it hits me. A Radiohead song sends me back in time, back to a place that I haven't been in a while. One where I feel alone and the waves of loss wash over me. A lump builds in my throat. My shaggy dog whines from the other room to comfort me. I guess that sob was out loud. Or maybe she's just hungry.

If you've ever lost someone close to you, you know what I mean. If you haven't you will eventually.

It's not that I haven't created a new wonderful life. One that I am thankful for each and every day. I wouldn't trade my life for anything. It really is beautiful, unique and full of abundance.

It's just that sometimes it still hits me without warning. A song, a smell, a taste, a sign that from another dimension letting me know that he thinks about me and misses me too.

Sigh.

A breather from diving deep...

Reconstructing past painful events is hard work. I'm diving deep into when I first understood Ryan died and the events surrounding it. It's like an injured limb that will never be the same after its trauma. Certain weather agitates it, leaving you achey and remembering what it was like before. Before the loss, before the hurt, before the circle of life. 

Except I know I'm stronger. I know I'm wiser. I know I wouldn't trade what happened to me for any one else's life, but that still doesn't make it any easier at times.

Why do I go there? Especially if it's so painful? Because I know deep in my core that it will help heal me. And even better - it could help someone else going through a similar experience.

So here's to facing your worst fears and turning them into beautiful stories.

Tandem Racing is AWESOME.

Written somewhere in the air closer to the Washington Dulles Airport in route to Denver...

The pre-race jitters hit me hard. Heartbeat racing, anxious stomach swirling, and the inability to make a decision. Yet underneath it all - excitement. I tell Shawn that I'm excited and aroused by what's to come. It's her first race so she asks why and I respond because this is a new type of race and I love a new challenge. That and I truly love racing bicycles.

The race is hot from the start. As hot as getting 300 pounds up to speed can be. We lug and heft our body weight quickly, positioning ourselves in the top two around the first one hundred eighty degree turn. I take the corner with no fear and absolutely zero hesitation. Upon exit I tell Shawn to stand and in one fluid motion we're up together winding the tandem back up to speed. We're on the Kiwi's wheel, zooming down the tailwind descent, having enough momentum to pass them and be the first to navigate around the round-about. I take it at full speed, angling and cutting it close to the curb, which puts a gap between us and the chasing teams.

The Kiwi's catch us and accelerate, being the first through a shallow left hand turn and accelerate hard over a small hump of a hill. We fly down hill, gaining speed into the bottom left hand corner. Positioned in second, we take the inside line and lean hard, angling the bike at forty five degrees. I'm focused on the race, not hearing or sensing Shawn's glee as the ground zooms by. The Kiwi's still on the offense, surge on the next hill. Their practiced teamwork seamless and impressive. But the new girls on the block, with two weeks of training and growing engines, are not to be discounted. We came to play. We match the Kiwi's speed while keeping careful watch on the other tandems.

Mackenzie and Kara are the only two brave enough to attack and get a gap on the descent. The tandem teams look at one another, no one keen to initiate the chase. Mackenzie and Kara quickly gain a fifteen second advantage. Coming into the hill, the Kiwi's surge again and we close the gap as we quickly catch Mackenzie and Kara. No one counters until we come to the two backside steep hills. The Kiwi's throw an attack again this time followed by Debbie and Karissa, testing their legs and muscling a big gear. I watch them muscle uphill as Shawn and I delicately spin 100 rpm to their 60 rpm, saving our muscles from early fatigue.

The Kiwi's are trying again to gain a gap and we've already dropped the weakest tandem. My heart is beating hard, lungs thankful for the extra sea-level oxygen. We power up the hill and I make note of the weaker tandems, already showing kings in their armor this early in the game.

Shawn is matching my power, spinning smoothly, face buried in my ass. She doesn't ask what's going on, she just pedals. The surging continues but our light gear and ability to accelerate continue to play in our favor. Her sonar hearing assists as she tells me which side approaching tandems are coming, their movements and creaking bikes announcing the galloping elephants.

We start creating intentional gaps, spinning and accelerating and cornering quickly causing other teams to surge and close the gap. Every move is playing out to my expectations. I'm having a blast, cautious yet giddy at playing different cards with the other teams. It reminds me of track racing and how just out of sheer joy and fun, I'm able to push that much harder. Coupled with the added benefit of partnering with Shawn, and I'm digging into a new level of disassociation. One where I can hover over the pain in my searing lungs, lactic-acid building legs, pushing beyond what my brain communicates to my body. The euphoria is intoxicating. The first lap was hard, but we stuck with the group and I'm encouraged and start observing where to make the final sprint to the finish line.

Mackenzie and Kara attack again, gaining a minute fifteen seconds while the rest of the teams play cat and mouse, waiting for the Kiwi's to try another breakaway. Every move is quickly absorbed and the Kiwi's call a truce and pedal to the back of the group. The next lap is slow and the Kiwi's summon the other teams to work together and catch the break. We quickly reel Mackenzie and Kara back in and they have a hard time staying with us when we absorb them.

Benjamin is standing on the sidelines, coaching me, telling me to feather the gear and spin up the hills, to get off the front but stay attentive to positioning. I start calculating who has anything left in the spring. Lisa and Rachael had muscled up the hills, putting a strain on their muscles. Debbie and Karissa put in a lot of energy when chasing down Mackenzie and Kara. The Kiwi's are the biggest threat. Coming into the last corner, I know this is it.

We're through the left hand turn followed by a sweeping right hand. From the sideline, Benjamin reminds at me to be patient. It's a long uphill headwind sprint from the feed zone. The Kiwi's initiate and we jump on their wheel, easing into their draft. At 150 meters to go, we surge making an attempt to come around the hard charging Kiwi's. We don't stand, mainly because I'm not confident and that lack of extra zip puts us in a respectable second.

I tell Shawn we just got second and she screams in excitement, grabbing my waist and thrilled with our success. I'm tickled as we let our accomplishment hit us in waves. The new kids on the block with a pinto stars and bars bike just made a major statement.

That night we recalled the race from our different perspectives. Shawn, verbalizing her excitement trust my every move. She trusted my tactics, my racing prowess. I told her how synched we were and how much I enjoyed racing with her.

We just received word that in a little over a month, Shawn and I will be representing the United States at a world cup in Italy. Look out world!

My Budding Boxing Career

“Hey Jen, my mom gave me a copy of Billy Blanks Tai Bo. Want to try it?” my next-door neighbor Rose asked one afternoon. Rose was also looking for an athletic vent to shed some weight. And we could follow the sequence of moves lead by a spandex clad kickboxing fanatic with the blinds drawn.

Our moves awkward and uncoordinated at first, we struggled to keep up with the timing between giggles.  After a handful of tries, thirty minutes started to pass with less effort. I started to increase the intensity and began doing the beginner tape twice a day. As I started to shed some weight, I also felt empowered. My fanaticism wore on Rose’s enthusiasm and she started to loose interest and eventually stopped joining me.

“Whatcha gotta do, you gotta PUSH YOURSELF!” Billy Blanks would shout through my TV, willing me to keep my arms up that much longer, challenging me to higher jump kicks as sweat flew from my body and dripped down the walls. I loved every minute of the physical and mental challenge and decided to progress my newfound passion at a local cardio kickboxing gym called, “Kick It.”

The studio was full of eager women punching and kicking freestanding punching bags lead by techno music and an enthusiastic and skilled instructor, Susan Thomas. It smelled of Febreeze coated sweat, masking the odor of dank Everlast gloves and Ringside focus mits. Susan patiently led us through a series of kicking and jabbing combinations, demonstrating them slowly at first and then showing us full speed, sharply exhaling on each point of contact.

“Ch! Ch! Ch! Ch! Ch! Ch!” Her movement fluid as she gracefully moved around in a circle, keeping her hands up and chin tucked. Entranced I decided right then and there that I wanted to move like that. I was ready to take kickboxing to the next level.

“Hey Susan, I have a question,” I asked that day after class. “How do you compete in this sport?”

“Oh! Come with me to a boxing workout tonight. It’s traditional boxing but a start.”

That night we drove 20 minutes north of Bellingham to the small town Ferndale. In the Cobra Kai dojo tucked behind Main Street, Susan and I were the only two females in a testosterone-laden gym. The stink of sweat stung my nose as ten or so guys assembled dressed in white tank tops, baggy shorts and hands wrapped in cotton gauze. The room was lined with mirrors, contained a ring, and time clock. On one of the walls hung a framed handwritten slogan “A Champion Is Made A Day At A Time.”

“Hey Coach Ferguson, this is Jennifer,” introduced Susan. “She’s interested in competing.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, reaching out my hand to shake his. His blue eyes sparkled, nose flattened like a pancake from years of being in the ring and smile displaying a denture mouth. 

“Well, go get dressed Jennifer,” Coach said.

“You can call me Juice,” I boldly replied.

We ran around the exterior of the building then shadow boxed in the mirror, my movements jerky and lacking the finesse of the other boxers. Sweat started to drip from everyone’s temples as we did 50 push-ups, 100 jumping jacks, footwork drills and lunges back and forth across the room and finished with 15 minutes of jumping rope. Coach paired us up according to ability then height to work on punching combinations. The new stimulation left me exhausted before the sparring session even started.

“Juice, want to try sparring tonight?” Coach asked.

“Sure,” I said, having no idea what I was getting myself into but eager to impress.

I strapped on a well-oiled and salt encrusted piece of headgear and slipped on 14 ounce blue boxing gloves. I shoved my cheap plastic mouthpiece in and ducked between the ropes. My opponent, a 14-year-old kid named Jimmy, was the same height but 30 pounds lighter.  His eyes showed no fear and his jabs caught me off guard, popping me hard square in the face and whipping my head back. Eyes watering, nose throbbing I was relieved to hear the end of the round after only 30 seconds. We sparred two more rounds before Coach called it a night and I retired to the women’s locker room.

I sat on a cold, hard wooden bench in shock. The sting of getting hit in the head by a 14-year-old induced real tears when I was safely alone. I knew better then to let those boys see how shook up I was of willingly getting beat in the head. I sobbed for five seconds, looked directly at myself in the mirror and said sternly out loud, “This is it, Juice. This is the reality of the sport. You either take it or leave it.”

I showed up two days later.

Grief as a gift.

I had just left the chiropractors office where the receptionist was watching a live stream of the Boston Marathon. She was an avid runner herself and had a handful of friends competing. Incoming phone calls were answered as she multitasked and filled appointment slots while keeping watching the crowd of runners for those she knew.

I was getting my lower cranky back adjusted. I pushed a little too hard in the team time trial on Saturday afternoon, through the gusts of wind and up hill. My body, unaccustomed to the lower position, protested the next day as I was putting down my 10 pound bag, getting ready for the Air Force Academy road race. I felt a sharp pain in my L5, S1 and couldn't stand up straight. I decided to go out to the race anyway, just in case it was a fluke tweak and see if it would loosen it up by riding.

The line for registration was 50 people deep. I opted instead to get dressed in spandex. I attempted to lift my leg and pull on my shorts, only to feel shooting pain. Nope, no racing for me today. My immediate thought went to the bigger fish to fry next weekend in Greenville. If I'm going to throw my back out, it's going to be at a big race.

That night I had trouble sleeping. It hurt to lie down. It hurt to sit. It especially hurt to stand. I aged 50 years in a nanosecond. My dreams were erratic and I was being chased by a monster.

The next morning I emailed a few people asking for massage recommendations or seeing if I could get into the Olympic recovery center. Mike Durner responded with a referral of his chiropractor, Dr. Jeff Mathews just south of downtown. Lucky me they had a morning opening. It was there I saw the receptionist watching Boston.

Minutes after I left the explosions started. Social media blew up. Normally, Benjamin is my source for what's going on in the world. But when he's gone I frequently peruse FB and Twitter. The tweets started flooding in, adding to the confusion and angst. What is REALLY going on?!?

It brought me to the day Ryan died. When I had so much confusion, so much angst and so many unanswered questions. And now, a Nation is asking themselves those same questions. I want to help, in  any way I can.

Here's what I can offer to those affected by the bombings. And by affected I mean in any way connected to the Boston Marathon. You didn't need to be there to feel its enormity, to witness its ripple effect.

You have permission to be sad, angry, upset, tired, anxious, and guilty. It's okay not to be sad. It's okay to not know how you feel yet.  We all handle tragedy in a unique and personal way. There's no right or wrong. There just is.

Slowly, and often without notice a gift will emerge. It is your choice to let it. To let this reminder of mortality help you live the life you long for. To stop settling for things. To bring fulfillment and happiness into your life now. Trust me, it will happen if you let it.

The power of YES.

Last day, best day.

Greetings from beautiful and sunny Chula, Vista, California. It's the last day of a week long para-cycling camp where I've been piloting a tandem bicycle with my blind partner in crime, Shawn. Together we've powered up and glided down the steep hills surrounding the Olympic Training Center. And I'm happy to report, we've made some serious gains: gains in fitness, gains in time trial times, gains in communication and figuring out what we need to do as a team on our journey to world domination. I repeat, world domination.

Shawn (who is 100% visually impaired) getting instruction on throwing the hammer from Olympic Hammer thrower Brittany Henry.  "People always tell me the things I can't do. I always show them the things that I can." 

Today is our last day of camp. Our last day of combined hard work, pushing and pulling our legs up the Honey Springs hill as quick as we can with various power surges to push our bodies beyond what's comfortable and then settling back into the slightly uncomfortable. Only to repeat the effort a few minutes later. And repeat again, and again and again.

Would I trade this for anything? No way. I'll take every minute of discomfort, every second of pain, every ounce of struggle. And Shawn does too. That's required. Especially on a tandem. Our motives must synch up and our efforts must be in harmony. We must strike the perfect balance between both of our roles, one where we both have our strengths and weaknesses. Together we create a unique blend of feminine power, ready to conquer the world. And we laugh, a lot.

I woke up excited to go uphill. Yes, excited. Dreading hills is now part of my past. Today is a new day and a new opportunity to give it my full self. And I'm thankful for each and every day I get to do that. In many ways, it's a true celebration of being in the now and living in the moment. And to be honest, that's how I want to live me life, everyday, in the now.

I'm able to dig deeper on the tandem. Knowing Shawn is counting on me giving it 100% and counting on me to be on the top of my game every effort enables me to tap into that pain cave that much harder. I banish negative thoughts as soon as they arrive, focusing on the now and the yes, I can!

YES WE CAN push a tandem bike up hill quickly and efficiently.

YES I CAN push through the pain cave that much longer, that much harder.

YES WE CAN  because my partner can too.

YES I AM strong, powerful and confident.

YES WE CAN.

YES!

I discovered that the more you can enter yes's into an equation, any equation for that matter, the more you can. The more you focus on the positive and what you can do, the more doors open up. The Universe responds and grants you more access to what you can do. And often it reveals more than what you first thought possible. Just think of what opens up to you if you practice this often, let alone everyday. Yes we can win. Yes, we will win.

Engagements, funerals, birthdays, para-camps oh my! March is done. And wow, what a month!

I'd tell you more but a picture is worth a thousand words.

The Proposal

We were quickly packing for our trip to Tennessee. It was the kind of trip where you take mainly cycling gear, a couple of cozy pants and sweatshirts and not much else. Our mission: to romp around the back roads of Eastern Tennessee and do some secret training. Benjamin had spent winter there years ago in preparation for the 1996 Olympic trials. He discovered smooth roads, little to no traffic and lots of amazing terrain.

We were in our pajamas, filling our suitcases and he asked if I had room for something. I looked up and in his hand was a little box. A little box with a big ring inside. He got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

I'd been dreaming of this moment for a while. Not sure when it was going to happen, and in some ways okay with if it never happened. I knew my love for him was beyond measure, beyond conditions, beyond limitations. I feel so lucky and blessed to feel this way about someone, about Benjamin.

So when that little box had a beautiful ring inside, accompanied by a proposal by the man of my dreams, I flew over the moon. And turned beet red.

"I had all these ideas in mind. But I couldn't wait any longer."

Floating on cloud nine, I couldn't stop smiling. If there were ever a moment I could stop time, this would be it. A moment full of much love, appreciation, and adoration.

In fact, I don't think I've stopped beaming.

BOOM!

I feel an energy swirling about, bubbling up inside of me like a volcano getting ready to erupt. It's fueled by many thoughts: on grief, on cycling, on bucking the status quo. Thoughts on why things are the way we think they are. Thoughts on how to make things different.

And then BOOM! Off goes my mountain top. I'm ready to take action! I'm ready to step into who I want to be and who I want to become. I'm getting the ball rolling, one step at a time to make things happen. With each step, I'm taking on the world and making a difference.

The action may seem small. I'm only one human. But my impact on the world may have a rippling butterfly effect. And knowing that fuels my passion. It wakes me up, eager to start each morning. Thankful I have another opportunity to do so. Grateful to express myself and am surrounded by people who believe in me.

Tomorrow night I arranged a Meetup called Loving Friends, aimed at bringing widows and widowers together to start a conversation. To build up my arsenal of people who view grief as a gift and opportunity. To start spreading the message and do good in the world. I'm ready to change consciousness, one being at a time.