What Does Gazunteight Mean?

About a month ago, I did my fifth Harbor to the Bay AIDS Charity Ride. (It is a 125 mile one day ride from Boston to Provincetown for AIDS charities.)  I got a rough start, as the two days before I had been in the emergency room and the hospital because my daughter had dislocated her thumb and needed hand surgery.  Needless to say, I was not well rested, or even adequately rested for the ride.  (I got about four hours of sleep each night!)  I have never been that exhausted at the beginning of a long ride.

The good news was that my good friend Andi was riding with me and she was rested and well trained.  (Last year, she was under-trained so I helped her along; this year it was her turn to pull my sorry ass!)  It was good to see familiar and friendly faces at the start, oh so early the morning.  And by 6:30 we were off and riding.  Another BIG plus was that it was a dry, albeit cool, day.  (I had prayed for no rain and asked anyone I knew, religious, spiritual, atheist, or otherwise, to help me pray for no rain.  It couldn’t have hurt.)

Because I was so tired, the riding was challenging, but not impossible.  About ten miles before the Sagamore Bridge, I got a burst of energy and climbed some of the hills with my usual zest for such things.  Around the same time, a truck slowed down and pulled up right along side of me.  The passenger, a middle-aged white man, stuck his head out the window and asked me, “What does ‘gazunteight’ mean?”  I looked at him and repeated the question with a puzzled face.  I know it means “God bless you” but somehow I knew that he wanted me to say this and then he was going to be a smart ass of some sort.  He was not friendly and the vibe I got was he wanted to ridicule me and perhaps us or the ride somehow.  So, I didn’t give him the satisfaction and after asking the question three times or so, he gave up and zoomed off.

I shook my head and said to Andi, “That was weird.”  Actually, it was more than weird.  It was disturbing.  I find these types of hostile interactions disturbing.  Whether he was harassing me because I was riding an AIDS ride, or because I was on a bicycle, or because I am Asian-American, or just because he is a yahoo, it hardly matters.  What is WRONG with people anyway?  

I also feel that these kind of interactions are getting more frequent.  I guess with the lousy economy and all some people venting their anger and frustration through bigotry.  It makes me sad that this is so.  What would it take for people to have more compassion for each other?  What would it take for the threads that connect us all to be at the forefront and the differences in the background?  How does one respond with faced with hostility and not breed further hostility (and stay safe)?  I wish I had good answers to these questions but I don’t.  In my life, I try to maintain a compassionate perspective because so many people are in a lot of pain and don’t know what to do with it.  (At the same time, this is no excuse for abusive hostile behavior.)  I wish I could say to that man, “I hope you are blessed and I am too.”

Climbing, Middle-age Spread, and Aging Gracefully

The bicycle tour I just finished was in the foothills of the White Mountains.  It was very hilly.  Now, I climb better than many and it is my strength for the most part. However, the fifteen pounds I gained this winter aren’t helping my identity as a climber.  In fact, a friend and I joke that we are hippos on bikes.  Now winter is often a time I gain a bit, but this past year, as I approach fifty, my metabolism came to a screeching halt.  I feel like it slowed to a snail’s pace, leaving me reeling and heavier than I have been in many years. 

I need to lose at least some of this weight; but that is easier said than done.  Mostly, I want to lose it because I will feel better on the bike and be healthier.  I expect that I will be heavier when all is said and done than I was a few years ago; this is to be expected.  What I have to do, is figure out how to eat for this new stage of life.

The good news is: I am in by far better physical shape, despite the weight gain, than I was before I started cycling.  I am hoping that cycling and keeping active will help me age more gracefully.  I can feel myself transitioning from the mother stage of life into crone.  It is a process.

In our American culture, aging is almost always a negative thing.  There are a million products and procedures that supposedly promote youth – mostly youthful looks.  If I had lots of money and the desire I could get my skin peeled or tummy tucked or I could buy fancy wrinkle dissolving creams and potions.  Now, I am as vain as anyone really.  I dye my hair and use make-up when I am not riding.  (I figure with sunglasses and a helmet on who cares?)  But I think spending your life’s savings on plastic surgery or products with no real evidence of efficacy is a sad commentary on our values.  What does it mean to me to age gracefully?

For me, I think accepting myself and the aging process is part of it.  I am no longer twenty, and if the truth be told, I would not want to relive those years anyway.   I want to be able to be active and vital as I get older.  I know this is possible.  I also know that this may manifest in different ways as I get older.  Perhaps, I won’t go as fast or long on the bike; I will have to be vigilant about what I eat so I don’t continue to gain weight; I will have to be aware of my limitations and honor them. 

The question of how to age gracefully is one that requires some more thought as my fiftieth birthday approaches next month.   What I do know is that aging is part of life and that life is a journey and a process – one where change is always possible and often inevitable.

Do You Belong Here? Or a Run-In with a Bigot

I had a rough start yesterday morning.  We went to a State Campground and I asked the janitor if I could use the bathroom.  He looked at me sternly and asked, “Do you belong here?”  I was taken aback and asked what he meant.  He asked if I were a camper at the park.  I said, “no,” and he said that the bathrooms were only for campers.  I left.  However, it was clear to me that his question was more about who I was than whether I was a camper.  He just didn’t like the likes of me.  
 

It is always startling when I hit that kind of racism – the vibe is palpable.  When it happens it cuts to the core, yet it is not surprising in some ways.  We still live in a racist country, where White men like him don’t like Asian women like me.  (And I am my own brand of unique – with my cycling gear and eyebrow ring.)  The other thing is that I was a traveler and sometimes that works against me as well.  I am a stranger and look like one too.  This can make people suspicious and hostile.  

After we left the campground I kept thinking of come backs like “I am kind and belong to the human race.  Do you?”  Or “I belong more than you do.”  I don’t know.  If he had just said, “I am sorry but there bathrooms are only for campers.”  I would not have been happy and still thought he was a jerk, but it wouldn’t have had the effect of making me feel hurt and angry.

The good news is that on our travels thus far, we have met more kind people than bigots.  Yet, the bigots can ruin a day, if you let them.  Small men who exert psudo-power over others make me angry.  We went down the road a bit and bought coffee at a country store.  The woman there let me use the bathroom.  It is a reminder that how we are in the world does matter.  If we are kind and generous, it effects not only the way we feel about ourselves but the lives of others.  I also believe that what we put out in the world comes back to us.  So, it pays to be kind. 

Reflections on Rain

I admit, I am pretty much a fair weather rider.  I prefer not to go out in the rain.  It’s not that I haven’t ridden in rain before – I did the Harbor to the Bay AIDS ride (125 miles) twice in the pouring rain.  (It was not as fun as the sunny rides although it felt like an accomplishment.)  And there are not many cyclists who haven’t been caught in the occasional thunderstorm.  But for the most part I pass if rain is in the forecast.

Yet yesterday I went out in the rain.  We are on tour and just have our bikes for transportation.  I wanted to get out and get some coffee and go to the book store.  So I donned my rain gear and went out.  I think if there weren’t so many cars on the road to worry me, I probably would have found it refreshing.  It was good to get outside and being in the elements is a part of living the bici life.  Certainly, I like to feel the sun on my back on a bright summer’s day.  Yet, rain has a different personality.

Sunny days are very yang—all you want to do is be active and go.  Rainy days are yin – where the movement is inward.   They are often times of reflection and rest.  Rain can also be purifying.  It cleans the air and has the potential to purify the spirit.  I expect I would not appreciate the sunny days as much without the contrast of the rainy ones.  Sometimes the rain and the darkness is too much for me.  I have Seasonal Affective Disorder and the winters, and long stretches of rain are hard on my mood.  I try to remember that rain is necessary.  After all, the flowers need it.  It is also necessary to stop and turn inward at times.  Reflection allows for a certain clarity sometimes. 

And going out in it reminds me that I am alive and part of the bigger cycle somehow.  Although, I still hope that today it will clear and that the sun will come out – at least for a little while.

I’m Back – And Touring

I wanted to get back to writing on this blog.  It has been a long absence.  I could make a lot of excuses but that is boring and unnecessary and now is as good a time as any to start up again.

David and I are touring for the second summer.  We are going from home to Lake Winnipesaukee and back again.  To get there it is going to take two days and we will go over 100 miles.  We are taking a longer route home which will take three days.  While at the lake we will hopefully ride around the lake (which is about 70 miles) and go swimming (or at least I will). 

Touring is an interesting business. It reminds me of backpacking, only on bikes.  Pedaling is like hiking – each pedal stroke is a step and when you are going there is nothing else to do but be in the zone and go.  It is a moment of simplicity – you can’t do anything else but pedal – although I could worry about the unpaid bills and the busyness that awaits me when I get home, it is not useful at all.  So I don’t. I just pedal and look at the sunflowers and the old barns that are part of the New England scenery. 

The pace of touring is slow.  The loaded touring bikes weigh a ton.  I am not sure how much, but I am averaging about ten miles an hour.  This means that it took us about five hours to do the 51 miles in the first day.  It’s good to slow down – on the bike and in general.  I allows for contemplation and simplicity.  It allows for time to do nothing – but pedal.  This is not something I do much of otherwise.  My life gets crowded with obligations and tasks – for the most part ones that I take on willingly, but busyness all the same.

It’s also wonderful in that I am out in a world that is outside of my routine and normal sphere.  I meet people who I would not meet if I wasn’t touring.  For instance, yesterday we stopped at a yard sale to ask directions.  A preacher kindly gave us directions, and gave Rosie (the stuffed bear who rides on the back of my rack) a Christian track trying to convert her.  People come in all kinds, and to experience the breadth of them, you have to move beyond the bounds of your home turf.  I am also aware though, that some of the people out there may not receive me kindly – they are racist or bigoted and could be hostile to who I am.  Yet, so far, my experience has been that most people are for the most part well intentioned and willing to help if they can.

Touring allows me to be a stranger in different worlds – and from that position I can see my world in a new light.  It gives me a fresh perspective.  This is good in a world far too dominated by bogus TV driven ideals of what we should want to be and do.  This is another way I am blessed.