Mindfulness, Acceptance, and Winter Riding

It’s January and I am finally getting back to my neglected blog. During my absence, the season turned and it is fully winter in Boston. Today the high was in the low twenties with a wind chill factor of five degrees. On days like today, I stay indoors and work on the trainer; however, if it is thirty or above, I will venture out on my bicycle.

Winter riding is qualitatively different than riding in more temperate conditions. It takes a kind of mindfulness that riding in summer does not. For one, in cold weather, you have to be more prepared. When I get ready to go out it takes me up to a half an hour to get ready. The other day when I went out I wore a base layer, a heavy jersey, a down vest, two jackets, and shorts under a heavy pair of riding tights. On my feet I wore two pairs of socks, one neoprene and the other wool, heated insoles and heavy winter riding boots and my hands hand two pairs of gloves and hand warmers inside. To top it off, I wore a baklava, a hat, and my helmet. I looked like my daughter the first time we dressed her to go out in the snow. The snowsuit was so heavy and she was so bundled we had to prop her up against the fence to take a picture. She could barely move. I looked like that – but not as cute.

For me, winter riding reminds me that I have to accept that there are things I can’t change in life to which I just have to accommodate. If I want to ride in January in the Northeast, I will have to adapt to the winter elements. I went out on my bike to a party the other night and it started to snow before I left. When I got on the road there was a thin coat of icy snow crystals that shimmered under the streetlights. I rode very, very slowly home. Had there been more snow, I would have walked. Winter riding also teaches me that I have limitations and sometimes it is best to turn back or walk. I respect Mother Nature for her powers and her beauty.

And beauty is easily found when riding in the winter. Personally, I love the stark snow covered trees and the frozen ponds. Even the bike trail is quiet – unlike in the summer months when people and nature are busy and active. There is a peacefulness and stillness that gives me pause. Winter riding teaches me to see the beauty in bareness and reflect on my place, as small as it is, in the cycle of things.

Cycles of Life and Seasons on the Minuteman Trail

To get from my home out to better places to cycle I often ride the Minuteman Bike Trail. This trail runs from Somerville to Bedford. There has been a lot of commentary about trail use – pointing fingers at cyclists for going too fast, rollerbladers for talking up too much room, and walkers for not paying attention – seems like everyone has a beef about the trail. However, this piece is neither about trail use nor a forum for whining about trail etiquette.

Riding the trail allows me to experience the cycles of the seasons. There are stretches of woodlands and meadows. There are wild herbs that grow along the sides. There is wild life that inhabits the surrounding area. Given that the trail runs through cities and suburbs, it is quite a microcosm of nature.

Right now the last few leaves have fallen off the trees. The winter is perhaps the only season where you can clearly see the sky from the trail, as the trees create a thick canopy during the rest of the year. The colors are various shades of grey and white, almost as if you were looking at a black and white photo. It is cold, but quieter than the bustling summer. The light is weak and by 4:30 PM it is pitch dark on the trail. When the snow flies, much of the trail will be impassable on a road bicycle. (They don’t plow the whole thing which is really too bad.)

I find the spring most exciting on the trail. My favorite pagan holiday is Imbolc which celebrates the new growth under the snow. When that new growth starts peaking through and the energy of spring is in the air, I feel newly alive. The first few times in the spring when I ride the trail, I enjoy the efforts of the plants coming up through the last of the snow. It is a messy time – wet and muddy, but it is a harbinger of the beginning of biking season and the promise of warmer biker friendly weather to come. The buds start to form on the trees creating a sense of expectation. There is a new life on the trail.

The summer is the most active time on the trail. The leaves of the trees create a canopy which provides welcomed shade to users. There are squirrels and chipmunks that scamper across the trail trying to avoid being run over by the cyclists. I once saw a doe and two fawns on the trail. In parts of the trail there are berries that people pick and herbs that they collect. It is a time of fullness and abundance.

A sadness comes over me when autumn starts to set in. The leaves change from green to bright orange, yellow and red. The colors are brilliant and sometimes you can look out and see a landscape on fire with color. The leaves fall onto the trail creating a difficult and dangerous surface for cyclists. The landscape changes again and winter returns, only to yield to spring in a few months, and thus the cycle continues.

Riding the trail through the seasons reminds me that we live in cycles. There are the cycles of the seasons, but also the cycles of our lives. I am in the autumn of my life. I am forty-seven years old and I am noticing changes that come with age. I am also aware of benefits of my experience and tend to appreciate the wisdom of it. My father is in the winter of his life and although I grieve his decline, I also know that the cycle of life is unavoidable. There are also smaller cycles in our lives, such as the cycling season.

The cycling season, has its cycle, that in this New England area, reflects the cycles of the seasons. Winter for base miles, spring starts more intense training, summer for racing and then fall ends the season with a return to base miles in preparation for the next round. There is something comforting to this predictable progression, and for me there is hope. Last summer I was teaching bicycle riding and was too busy to train well. So, I abandoned my racing goals and had a full summer of teaching (which also runs in cycles!). Now that we are back at the beginning of the cycle, I get to reassess and reconsider my goals and start over if I want.

However, just because cycles repeat themselves, does not mean they are the same for us. The good news is that we are human and that we grow and learn. Each year brings new growth and change, and although the season may look the same we are not. Change is the only constant. It is more like a spiral. We are at the same x coordinate, but have moved on the y. (If you didn’t get that don’t worry.) In other words, we are starting a cycle over but with all the experience we have gained from the previous ones. So, as I ride the Minuteman I am aware of the fact that I am not the same cyclist I was last year and I will not be the same next year as well. I have the potential to grow and hopefully become a stronger rider. Each season has its joys and difficulties, but if we wait we can be assured that these will change, as cycles do.

Reflection on the Meanings of Kits

I am a roadie and almost always ride in a kit. The most important reason for this is that cycling clothes are comfortable and utilitarian. I need the back pockets in my jersey to put my pump, inflator, snacks, and asthma inhaler. I store the clothing I end up shedding mid-ride there as well. The tights or shorts have a chamois which helps with saddle soreness and wick sweat away. Although I did want to point out that wearing a kit is sensible, this piece is not meant to be an advertisement for cycling duds. Instead, I wanted to reflect on what wearing a kit means.

I started out curious about why it is called a “kit.” I found out that the terms us mainly used in the UK for “the particular clothing worn by a sports team.” I couldn’t find the etymology of that specific meaning although kit as referred to that of "outfit of tools for a workman" is from 1851. Before I was a cyclist I had never heard the word kit used in that way.

When I wear a kit, regardless of which one, I am saying, I belong to the clan of cyclists. When I am in my kit other cyclists (also in kits) nod or say hello. If I am stopped for some reason, inevitably another cyclist will stop to find out if I need help. There is a sense that cyclist will look out for each other. I have helped many other cyclists mostly with changing flats and providing extra tubes. There is a sense of community among road cyclist and the kit is the uniform.

Now specific kits convey certain information about me and my associations. For instance, I belong to two clubs and obviously each club has a kit. This can be awkward at times for me. I was wearing the kit of one club and a member of the other saw me and was aghast. Now there are good reasons why I belong to two. The club I started with is like a family to me however, that club doesn’t have a developed woman’s program. When I decided to try to race, I wanted a club with a well established women’s program, so I joined the second one. But wearing the kit is saying I belong to this one and eyebrows are raised when you have two. However, I am used to this, being mixed-heritage Asian American. I have always felt I travelled in two worlds (at least).

I also have a kit from Stanford where I got my MA, as well as kits from rides I have done. These kits also elicit reactions from other cyclists. I was wearing my Stanford kit when another alumnae came up to me and started asking about my experiences there. There is a way that the kit creates connection among cyclists and communicates belonging not only to the sport but to specific organizations.

I want my kit to express me. It is, in part, a “fashion” statement. I like my Japanese cherry blossom kit because it reflects my Japanese heritage. I also like my “Wild Things” kit with the monsters on it from the Shel Silverstein book The Wild Things. It reflects my playful side and the fact that I read that book a zillion times when my daughter was young.

However, the kit is not unproblematic as an outfit. It is spandex and tight. I don’t usually mind this, however I can feel like I am being objectified, especially by those outside the cycling community. I have had guys in a truck suck their teeth at me while I was on my bike and men whistle or come up and try to talk with me. It is an issue I will explore more in another piece, but it makes me uncomfortable at times and scared at others. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to worry about this, but in this one I do.

Overall, however the kit is not only utilitarian but also a communication – about belonging, about association, about connection, and about personality

Body Image or Does My Stomach Stick Out in These Shorts?

I know for myself and a lot of women, and some men too, that body image is a sensitive yet preoccupying issue. Over the course of my life I have been a size 2 and a size 22. I have weighted 118 pounds at my lowest and 220 pounds at my highest. My body has gone through all sorts of changes; however, my view of my body hasn’t changed as much as my body itself.

At my heaviest, I had gained weight in part because of medication that I was taking. I put on about 70 pounds in three months and then kept it on. I was a large woman and very aware of feeling invisible to others. (This came into high relief when I lost some weight and all of a sudden I was much more visible, especially to men.) The prejudice against me as a fat woman made me angry. The media’s tolerance of fat jokes and comments breeds hate and misinformation.

There is the assumption that if you are heavy you somehow are weak or lazy and that you want to be heavy. “Just stop eating” or “Just exercise,” they say, as if you could change your behavior and your metabolism easily by sheer will power. I always want to say, “do you think if I could lose 100 pounds tomorrow, that I wouldn’t already have done that?” Any person’s multitude of reasons for being heavy are complex and often difficult to change. For me, I needed to change my medication and change my exercise habits. I still struggle with eating poorly or bingeing. I am still working on changing these things to improve and maintain my health. .

However, I think the most startling thing is that my body image is still that I am fat. I still feel fat. I know in my head that you can’t be a size 4 and be fat. I know that I would like to lose ten pounds to feel better on the bike, but that doesn’t mean I am fat. In my head I know this, but I still look in the mirror and see a fat body. This distortion causes me distress. It is also annoying to those who are heavy and see a thin person moaning about being fat. I remember feeling really angry when a normal weight woman would moan and groan about how she had to lose weight and the diet she was on and how fat she was, when I could see that at her 110 pounds she was fine and at my 220 I was not. However, I understand now that the pain of feeling fat, at whatever weight, is real.

This image of ourselves is supported by multimillion dollar companies that want to convince us that we need their products to lose weight. It is supported by the media that gives us anorexic models who look like teenagers as the ideal woman. It is supported by American culture that says you have to be thin and young to be successful. We can’t get away from messages that tell us that we have to be thin and that you can’t be thin enough. No wonder so many of us have distorted images of ourselves and unrealistic ideas about how we should look and what our ideal weight should be.

Now as a cyclist, I am trying to look at my weight and eating in order to improve my performance. It is hard to move away from the knee jerk of “I have to lose weight to look better and do that I have to stop eating” to “I have to eat more when I ride, less at night, and try to lose some weight so I can climb better.” It’s hard to not feel bad about feeling fat. It is hard to feel that my body is strong and capable, despite the evidence. Sometimes, I look down at my legs, which are quite muscular, and have the sense they belong to someone else.

I know that my task is to be able to “own” my own body. I know I need to see it more realistically and work on the areas that will not only make me healthier, but hopefully a stronger rider. I also know that a radical change in perspective takes time and is gradual—like the changes in seasons, when the crocuses push their blooms through the snow, promising that spring is coming.

Harbor to the Bay -- Made It 2008!

It was a beautiful day on September 20th for the Harbor to the Bay ride for AIDS. It started early for me – I was up at 3:45 AM getting ready to get to Trinity Church in Copley Square at 5:00 AM in order to check-in and eat breakfast. It was dark and COLD but thankfully no rain. I had on many layers – long tights over my shorts, two pairs of socks, liner gloves, a headband, arm-warmers. a vest, and a jacket. Still, I was cold. My bike was clean and lubed and ready to go.

We had a good breakfast at the church and opening ceremonies were around 6:15 and we rolled out of the church around 6:30 to start the ride. It was cloudy. When we riding by the University of Massachusetts Boston, the sun started to come through the clouds creating rays of light. It was quite beautiful, although the skies didn’t really clear until mid-day (at which point I shed some of my layers).

I was riding with my friend Andi, a friend of hers Lee, and a friend of his Bob. Overall, we were well matched in terms of speed and riding style. It was fun to ride with others and be able to draft and work together. (This wasn’t possible in the rain last year.)

There were seven pit stops along the way, with snacks and water and the all important porta-potties. We had lunch at the Sagamore Bridge and then walked over the bridge to the cape.

The riding on the cape was quite beautiful for the most part. Toward the end, we rode on a lovely bike path that was flat. This was a welcome break before we hit the hills at Truro. Last year, I remembered those hills as being so difficult. We had a horrible headwind and since we had ridden in the rain, we were wet, cold, and tired. So I was dreading this portion of the ride. Although I wouldn’t call the hills easy, they were not as horrible as I had remembered. This year we had no wind to speak of and the sun on our backs. I was riding with Bob and we blasted up the hills much to my surprise. Finally, we could see Provincetown and the ocean. What a sight after such a long ride. We made it to the motel where all the riders and crew congregated before we all rode into Provincetown together.

Moving Violations, the women’s motorcycle group who so wonderfully supported the ride, led the way as we rode into Provincetown. People on the street cheered us and shouted their appreciation of our cause and efforts. We arrived at the Boatslip for closing ceremonies and dinner. Although I was tired, I felt good about the ride.

Thank you for those of you who contributed to my fundraising. If you still want to contribute you can until the beginning of November. You can do so online by going to my Harbor to the Bay homepage: https://www.harbortothebay.org/personalpage.asp?ID=618. Or if you prefer, you can download a form and send in your donation by going to harbortothebay.org and clicking on “donate” from the menu on the left of the page. I am rider #130. Unlike many charity events where a percentage of the money raised goes to overhead, in this ride a 100% of the funds go directly to the service and research organizations.

Thank you to all my friends and family for supporting me in all the myriad of ways that you do. I would not be able to do this without the support I get from all of you. I am glad that you share this cycling adventure with me.

In the Balance:My Trek to the Cape

Well, I am on the bus writing this long-hand which I will later type into the computer at home. Yesterday I rode from Boston to Cape Cod – 104 mile trek with my friend Andi. She lives on the Cape so we have a lovely destination.

I haven’t been doing as much riding as I need to be doing to prepare for the Harbor to the Bay AID ride on September 20th. (I have been busy teaching riding.) So, I was a bit worried about this ride which was about 30 miles shorter than the September ride but still over a hundred miles.

In fact, I hadn’t ridden in over a week and a half. I took nothing but my riding gear (stuff to change tires, phone etc.), a pair of underwear in a plastic bag, and a folding toothbrush. I was worried I would poop out after fifty miles. I was also worried that it would rain.

As luck would have it, the weather held until we got to Andi’s home, showered and were making dinner. We were blessed and probably the fact that we both carried all of our rain gear in case helped too.

At about mile 75 I was quite tired but a stop and ice cream helped me push through it and I felt better than I had expected to all in all. We made a few substantial stops and ate a ton. For instance, we had second breakfast! This is so unusual for me who doesn’t even eat first breakfast half the time. Even with the stops, we got there around 5:00 PM having averaged close to 14 mph.

I know the intense training I did early in season in preparation to race, paid off even thought I had been off the bike for over a week (except for short – very short – rides to and from the Bicycle Riding School). It made me away that my overall fitness is pretty good.

My partner recently commented that we tend to take our fitness and riding ability for granted. I think he is right.

I was recently in the market talking to another riding friend and telling her I was worried about the Harbor to the Bay ride. She said, “Pata you know in your heart you could do that ride tomorrow if you had to.” I thought about it concluded that she is right.

However, this has not always been the case for me. (At one point I was 220 pounds and very out of shape.) I feel lucky to have found “exercise” that I love and that feeds my soul. I have to remember that I am blessed in this regard and that not everyone enjoys health in the same way I do at this moment. I need to remember that although this level of fitness requires work, the payoffs are great in terms of my emotional, physical and spiritual well being.

In the next six weeks before the ride and thereafter I need to make more time to ride. I owe it to myself. It keeps me balanced and although it is easy at times to get imbalanced and stressed out trying to meet the demands of others – it is worth the effort to create a balanced life with time for myself and my bike.

Mt. Wachusetts "Hill" Climb

Here I am on the top of Mount Wachusetts. We were whimps and drove to base of the mountain and then rode up it. (Instead of riding the fifty miles to the mountain and fifty home.) The mountain was a good climbing (and descending) challenge and we were there before the road was open to car traffic on Memorial Day. I made it up the mountain, but there were times that I really wished I was on the Luna which had the triple!