"As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy... we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies... We must remember that... the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true."

-Stranger than Fiction

Wide Safe

This afternoon I decided to go to the Richfield Super Target on my bicycle. Usually I do everything possible to avoid big box stores when on two wheels. There are just too many cars, too much commotion, and too many pissed off mothers not paying attention. But this particular Target is so ridiculously easy to get to, and this November day was so ridiculously beautiful that there were no excuses. I hooked up the Tail Wagon and set out.

As the cashier rang up my purchases I realized shopping hungry has entirely different consequences when commuting. Namely, how the hell was I going to get all this home? I suppose someone with less character might put some of their purchases back but not me. I'd committed to my 3 things of cottage cheese, 5 lbs bag of tater tots and the host of canned yet delicious vegetables. It was time to follow through.

I was trying to count the exact number of big hills I'd have to creep up on the way home as I wheeled my cart up to my bike. There was a mother just locking up and getting her young daughter out of a similar wagon she pulled. The little girl looked at me, looked down at my wagon and then back at me.

"Who do you have in there?"

I said, "Just groceries today."

She thought for a moment. "Good idea. Good, good idea."

The mom smiled and said, "Come on honey. Time to go inside. Tell the nice lady to ride safe."

The little girl smiled and said, "Wide safe!!"

The trip home wasn't bad at all.

Decisions, decisions...

Here are my options for a new road bike. I've settled on getting the BH Cristal. It's affordable, fast, and you can't really go wrong with "Elegance with Attitude." But there is one problem. A fairly large problem. I can't decide what color!

Pink or Teal?

Help!

Eerily Accurate Forecast

Do you see it? That's right. This is a totally unaltered forecast from our friends at WCCO.

Better watch out. Sunday and Monday there is a high likelihood of "...... Low Confidence."

"Society seems noxious. I believe that against these baleful influences Nature is the antidote. Man comes out of the wrangle of the shop and office, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. He not only quits the cabal, but he finds himself. But how few see the sky and the woods!"

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Criminal Mass

Everyone needs to watch this movie:

http://www.blockbuster.com/browse/catalog/movieDetails/272289

It's called "Still We Ride"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgrDk_qNv90

Brings up some important "Us Vs. Them" issues.

Watch. Discuss. Think.

RecaP

Before I write any more declarative blogs about fear and courage, I'll go ahead and fill you in on what's been really happening the last month or so. Might make me seem less flighty... maybe not. Who knows.

1. I gave up Facebook... until my boyfriend went to Las Vegas for Interbike and I realized cyber stalking can be an effective and useful way to keep in touch and not be agonizingly lonely.

Pros: When I was actually able to avoid Facebook I really did feel better and more productive. The time spent scanning status updates and "liking" or commenting on various posts easily snowballs to astronomical lengths. Not to mention that my activities started to belong to me and only me, which gave them a Quality that is difficult to describe unless you've read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." Let's just say, whether you realize it or not, whoring out your daily activities on a social networking site cheapens them.

Cons: Since avoid Facebook felt so good I also started to avoid Twitter. And this blog. And emailing my Grandma. NOT COOL. Whether I want to admit it or not, we do live in a technologically based society and cutting yourself out totally can both isolate and hurt feelings. Sorry Grams. Email coming soon, I promise.

2. I sold my car and did not buy a new one.

Pros: Nearly too many to mention! I'm officially a member of the smug car-less elite and as such I get to say things like "it feels good to be a part of the solution and not the problem" and "oh, well, I don't even own a car" and "cars?? ew." It's fantastic! I was also able to pay off my bills and close out my credit cards. As of today I have no debt-- a zero balance in life-- and finally feel free. This month I used the money that would've gone toward car insurance, gas, and maintenance and bought tickets to the Guthrie Theater's production of A Christmas Carol. Not too shabby. Thus far I'm incredibly pleased with my decision.

Cons: "Thus far" is a key phrase. It is November. In Minnesota. And after November comes December and after December comes 3 months of subzero hell. No, it isn't impossible to get around on a bike (or public transportation) during that time, but it takes a lot of effort that I'm not particularly looking forward to.

3. I cut up and closed out my credit cards.

Pros: Paying ridiculously high APR's to big name corporations is both as logical and enjoyable as working long hours at a job you hate, cashing your paycheck, coming home, and lighting exactly 1/3 of it on fire. Oh wait, it's not "like" that it "is" that. GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN! IT'S A TRAP!

Cons: Last week I spent all my money on sushi and red wine and I don't get paid again until the 13th. Without credit cards there is no safety net for budgeting stupidity and frankly, a person can only live off canned soup and pickles for so long. So... if any of you have any leftovers... or spare canned goods just lying around I would love to take them off your hands. Please. God, I am so hungry.

In the meantime I'm considering activating a back up emergency credit card. Seems like a slippery slope.

So that's the long and the short of it. Change inspires more change. Now I know how limited-- how constricted I've become by chains that are both silly and easily broken I don't want to stop. I don't want to just give up Facebook and credit cards I want to give up fear. I want to give up weakness. I want to give up indecision.

Hopefully I'm on that road.

Rambles

I was always somewhat of a sensitive child. One of my earliest memories is of the time I swung the screen door open and accidentally gutted a toad that had been sunning itself on the porch. I cried uncontrollably for several days and was only consoled when my parents let me erect a small but tasteful memorial to the dearly departed.

As I said, sensitive. For a very long time after that I was afraid to open the screen door in the summer.

I mention this because I wasn't sure what the next Sad Tan blog should be about. The topics I had been tossing around ranged from the dread of trying to run in the city after sunset, to how to be prepared for severe/unsafe weather conditions on a bike, to the anxiousness of facing a Minnesota winter car-less. Yet every time I sat down and tried to type anything I couldn't. I couldn't because after a fair amount of reflection I realized those story ideas are just thinly veiled covers of the real theme I've been trying to understand my entire life. Maybe it started with the toad, or maybe the toad is just another symptom of my on going, never ending battle with sensitivity and fear.

It isn't so much that I hate winter, it's that winter brings my uneasiness--my fear-- to the forefront. It's cold. It's dark. It's dangerous. It's often unsafe... And before I know it I'm in the middle of a string of catastrophic thinking that leaves me sitting at home eating cheetos rather than risk the terror of going out a living life in the real world.

As I mentioned, sensitive.

I think fear--both of the unknown and the known-- keeps many people from achieving their goals. Keeps many from riding a bicycle. Keeps many from changing.

Well, I for one am done being conquered.

I'm riding through the winter and I'm running in the dark and I'm going to be published. I'm going to finally open the screen door without fear. I'm ready. Bring it.

In the land of ice and snow

Over a year ago, I made the decision I was going to move from Lake Tahoe to Minneapolis. Now that winter is quickly approaching, I’m wondering what the heck I was thinking. Why in the world would I leave my snowboarding heaven for the land of ice and snow?

Maybe I missed the subzero temperatures. Or could it have been the thought 4 months in, it’ll never going to be sunny again? Or was it to prove that I could snowboard on an ice rink? How about being so white I’m reflective? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t any of those reasons.

Don’t get me wrong; I think Minneapolis and Minnesota are great. I use to brag about Minneapolis while living through out California. Minneapolis being one of the greatest hotspots for graphic artists and the boyishly handsome boyfriend of my mine were enough to bring me back. However, I definitely was trying my hardest to block the bitter cold winters far from my thoughts.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I was thinking, “It won’t be that bad. I grew up in it. I’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t listening to the rest of my brain saying, “YOU ARE NUCKING FUTS! -40! It’s been 8 years since you experienced -40!”
When I woke up one chilly October morning to discover snow sticking to the ground, I just wanted to hide. Usually, I’m the one jumping up and down at the first snowfall especially if it comes in early 'cause that means a longer snowboarding season. All I could think was “NOOOOOO! NOT YET! We don’t even have the heat on!”
I kept thinking back to the Halloween blizzard of ’91. I’m not ready for that! I’m not ready! I don’t even have winter boots!
Sure, I can close my eyes and dream I am back in Tahoe. But no matter how much I try and dream away the Minnesota winter, I can’t get away from it. I can only figure out what to do in the land of cold and snow. Like sledding at 2 am in the park down the street from your friend’s house cause there is a few inches of fresh snow. Or waking up just to stay inside and watch movies, drink schnappy hot cocoa, and stare outside as it snows another 6 inches.


I may not have moved back here for the winters but I’m sure somewhere in the middle of putting on that third layer before heading out the door to go shred on the ice or shoveling a path to my car, it will all make sense.

Top Reasons Why Winter in Minnesota Isn't That Bad

+ Yes it does get dark very early but you look better in low lighting anyway.

+ All the winter layers can be an effective way to contain body odor.

+ Dogs carrying barrels of whiskey around their necks finally has real applicable value beyond encouraging alcoholism.

+ Dry, flakey skin is a great conversation starter.

+ A bearded man breaks into your home, leaves gifts, then helps himself to all your food... got to admire that kind of moxie.

+ Car driver's road rage is magically transformed to car driver's road rage... on ice! How enchanting!

+ Unfortunately it is not as easy and sometimes even (dare I say?) impossible to get around on a bike... but don't worry. You'll make massive, uncontrolled weight gain look good.

+ I hear snot pooling on your upper lip is the new black.

+ It's that chance to really dread going outside that you've been waiting for.

+ It's a lovely change of pace... for 5 soul crushing months.

+ You can take in the stale, vaguely rotten smell of your trapped breath that only a balaclava can provide.

+ Swine flu!

A Bulldozer's Finesse

I'm afraid.

Much of what I've written in this blog (and hope to continue writing about) focuses on the changes in mind, body, and spirit that I've undergone the last few years. It hasn't always been easy. It hasn't always been fun. But it has been undeniably good. And even though the line between smug self-glorification and helpful advice can be difficult to pin down, the underlying message-- that anyone can take control of their own life at any time-- is an important one to keep pounding away at.

That being said, I'm still haunted by the fear that writing this you-can-do-it-because-I-did-it blog will invoke such a swell of hubris that fate will have me lose sight of all I've accomplished and I'll find myself fat, alone, and living in a bug-filled apartment that overlooks a Thai Restaurant's garbage chute all over again.

But I digress.

An overwhelming part of the American dieting industry is focused on date-specific success. Lose a full dress size in 48 hours! Lose 10 lbs in 2 easy weeks! Lose 3 inches from your waistline in just a month! But there is little to no mention of what happens when the 48 hours, 2 weeks, or month time allotment has come and gone. What is a person supposed to do after success? How can they maintain fitness goals long term?

... No, really... I'm asking because I don't know. By Thanksgiving last year I had already gained back about 10 of the 15 lbs I shed by commuting. I kept telling myself that after such an active summer I deserved a good rest. I deserved to put off Pilates for yet another week. I deserved to upsize to the bucket of tater tots.

I thought that was how one handles success: with rewards... of inactivity and overeating. As the winter months wore on, I was devastated to realize that I'd completely unraveled the previous summer's benefits. I was weak, flabby, and unmotivated... again.

At the time the solution was clear. Since I'd had such a difficult time limiting rewards, I denied myself everything my instincts told me I deserved. Ha! That would show em! I didn't just fight inactivity, I fought inactivity with a bulldozer's finesse taking out anything and everything that slightly resembled laziness, sloth, or, well, relaxation. While it did work wonders (have you seen my Michelle Obama arms recently?) it also created a large gap between extreme leisure and extreme training where I have absolutely no idea how to handle myself, what I can allow myself, and what I should feel guilty about.

And therein lies the fear: I've achieved my goals but I don't know what to do next. How can I be sure that the one extra thing of string cheese I devoured this afternoon won't lead to one extra Whopper Value Meal which will lead to acne, which will lead to low self-esteem, which will lead to a complete desertion of goals, which will lead me back to the Thai-Restaurant-Garbage-Chute-Apartment?

Yes, I'm being serious. A dash of neurosis is yet another one of my charming character traits.

This winter, whether I like it or not, will be a crash course in balance. I want to rest. I want to relax. I know a certain amount of that is healthy... yet... how do I stop once I've started?

I'd like to offer up a thoughtful analogy about how fitness, dieting, goals in general are more about the process than the product, but I can't think of any I truly believe in when I'm so unsure of myself and what I'm doing.

Ugh. Winter.

The Beginning of the End

Before I started commuting, Fall was my favorite season. The trees burst with vibrant reds and oranges, the smell of sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie drift through the streets, and the air is refreshingly crisp and clean. How could anyone not love a time of year that so blesses the senses?

But I thought that sentimental crap before I understood what Autumn really is: the beginning of the end. A slow countdown that, day by day, takes the carefree fun out of cycling and replaces it with snow drifts, frost bite and the sour smell that happens when sweat freezes and then thaws again.

It isn't impossible to keep commuting through a Minnesota winter but it takes a lot of effort. Thick gloves. Warm coats. Goggles. Balaclava's. Studded tires. Alternate routes. It's tiring just to think about.

So the other morning when the temperature dipped to 45 degrees and I had to spend my normal-sipping-coffee-time on digging out my warm leggings I wasn't in a very good mood. When I had to locate long (matching) socks I started mumbling curses. By the time I found my fat jeans-- the only pair that fits over all that warm layering I was beyond words. The effort had officially begun. Soon I'd be waking up an hour earlier and struggling to plow my bike through snow drifts just so I wouldn't have to face swine flu infested public transit.

As I put on the first leg a tiny spider fell out and ran across the carpet.

Perfect. I hate spiders. There is nothing more disgusting... more terrifying than a close encounter with a spider and this one was brought to me exclusively by fall. Nature's gateway drug to winter. Gross, gross, gross. I pulled on the other leg. There was a small white patch near my knee. Weird. I didn't remember a patch being there last year.

Two baby spiders fell out of it.

It wasn't a patch. It was a pouch.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I could clearly make out something moving inside of it. Something big.

A large leg pushed through the side of it. Then another.

No amount of Fall Foliage on the way to work could erase the image from my mind. Or the image of me screaming while jumping up and down trying desperately to kill any other creature that made their summertime home there.

Fall blesses the senses my ass. How long until summer again?

“Be a dumbsaint! A Yeatsian visionary. Take control and let loose. Discard pretense. Make speakable the unspeakable. Throw away the misthought that you have nothing to say. Defy fear. Like Proust unlock time and sense. Find your Madeleine. Or like Alice, eat the mushroom. If you tell a true story, you cannot be wrong. Lose inhibition, grammatical, syntactical, and all other straightjackets. Make love to your life. Experience it, the radiant orgasmic highest high/ lowest low of consciousness.”

-Jack Kerouac, You’re a Genius All the Time

Pre-Race Prep (first draft)

It's going to be difficult to explain that my dog Evey has taught me incredible lessons regarding competition, positive attitude, and perseverance without sounding drippy but I'm going to try anyway.

At a certain point this summer (I'm not sure of the exact date) I realized I have no idea what I'm doing. Absolutely none.

I had participated in team sports (B-Team sports) in the past but that just gave me experience in how to play games: hit a ball, run the bases. Serve a ball, score a point. It's not really a background that could give a person the tools necessary to succeed in a solo, multi-sport event like the Iron Girl Duathlon. Run 2, Bike 22, Run 2.

Anyway, I did the only rational thing I could think of to do. I signed up for a triathlon as practice.*

The tri was in Chisago Lakes, a small town just about an hour from the twin cities. It was billed as a "Swedish themed triathlon through the beautiful roads of Chisago County." Perfect. Who doesn't love Swedish culture? It would be a great no-pressure venue to gain experience in transitions, bike racing, and running. While I hadn't ever actually swam in a lake before, I had been going to St. Kate's about once a week and knew I was buoyant. How hard could a quarter of mile be?

The days drifted by and slowly but surely my excitement turned to nervousness which turned into worry which turned into dread which turned into stomach wrenching diarrhea and fear of death. What the hell was I thinking? A triathlon? Lake swimming? Commuting to work is not the same as racing against 1,000 other people and running around the neighborhood is not the same as running in spandex and getting your picture taken.

Following the golden rule of competition I gave myself a few total rest days before the big event... but I couldn't sit still. I decided to take Evey to the dog park as a distraction. Sitting at home, staring off into no where and imagining my sad little obit would only drive me more crazy. The Fort Snelling dog park sits on the banks of the Mississippi and encompasses about 10 acres (?) of forest. The fact something like it can exist in the heart of Minneapolis is yet another testament to what makes this city so incredible.

I walked along the shore throwing a stick into the water for the dog.

The scariest part about the swimming aspect was that I could no longer put my feet down. I would be out there, in the abyss, with no where to go. If anything happened, if I went under no one would be able to see me in the murky brown lake water... especially with all the other people wearing the exact same tri-suits and swim caps. And even if I did make it, I knew it would be at a embarrassingly slow rate of speed. And as we all know, the only thing worse than death is humiliation.

A high pitched yelp echoed through the trees and shocked me back into the present. There Evey was, standing in the river looking at me to throw the stick. I looked at the stick and I looked at her. She yelped again. Clearly she had waited long enough and was demanding that the stick be thrown again immediately. She didn't have time for this. She wanted to be swimming and fetching...

Because it's fun...

Because swimming is fun...

I had forgotten that swimming is fun!

Come to think of it, riding a bike is even more fun! I love to ride my bike!

Not only that, but running is... well... running was also an event!

How had I so completely and utterly loss sight of what mattered most? I threw the stick far out into the river and Evey crashed into the waves. No hesitation. No worry. No fear. She ran back onto shore and dropped it at my feet, ready for another round.

Yesterday I took Evey to the dog park again. Sunday is the Duathlon and I found myself having the same inability to focus, the same fear, the same worry about future situations that may never happen: What if my chain breaks? What if I get a flat? What if my knee hurts in the middle of running? What if I'm not the fastest? Will it disappoint the other members of Team Angry Catfish? How will this cold I have affect my performance? And like clockwork came the high pitched yelp, echoing through the forest trees. There she was, months later teaching me the same lesson: just throw the damned frisbee! Running is fun! Activity is fun! Being around people is fun! Just go!

Which is why this blog posting will remain a first draft. The same little doggie who has taught me so many life lessons is currently looking at me, desperate to go outside on this gorgeous Saturday afternoon. And I know without a doubt she is right. The best thing to do is get outside and enjoy the day.

I don't know what I would do if I didn't have her to remind me what matters most.

*The exact point at which at least 75% of the people reading this stop reading and think I'm crazy.

Art for Bikes Sake

WOO HOO!!

On Oct. 24th, 2009, yours truly will be involved in the Art Crank Poster show.  I can't tell you what a honor it is to be in this show.  I am STOKED AND A HALF!! 

However, with Art Crank SF quickly approaching, I need to find a solid print shop or the such to make my posters come to life. 
You see these aren't just any posters! 
Oh no!
These are one of a kind.  Well, 30 of a kind...made special for you to take home and love. 
And I want to make sure that these suckas last and look ultra RAD!  After all Rad is in my name! 

So if you can help, LET ME KNOW.  I need to get them printed ASAP with extra special love!


P.S.  They are kind of an odd size (30 x 12) so...specialty printing is needed.  THANKS!!!

An Open Letter to Car Drivers

Dear Sir or Madam,

I am a cyclist, not all cyclists.

So when you hear that I ride two wheels to and from work each day, please suppress the urge to tell me stories of every rider who blew through a stop sign, didn't use hand signals, used confusing hand signals, wasn't wearing a helmet, was wearing a funny helmet, was slowing down the flow of traffic, was going dangerously fast through traffic, was riding on the sidewalk, was riding on the road, or had their butt crack hanging out. You need to stop and think about what you are doing. I am a cyclist. Not all cyclists. We don't get together the last Tuesday of the month to discuss what's been going on around town. No one keeps minutes. There is no secret handshake.

Due to this, there is no possible way I can convey your accounts of woe to the people who happen to be behaving badly on bicycles.

Here, let me put this in perspective. When I find out you drive to work each day from some suburban nightmare, I don't regale you with stories about the idiocy of car drivers-- how terrified I was when a sport utility vehicle passed me at 40 mph with no room to spare. How I got honked at for actually stopping at a 4-way-stop and then taking "too long" when it was my turn to proceed. How I've made it my personal battle to make the phrase "Get on the sidewalk!" legal grounds for manslaughter because it is so fundamentally ignorant...

Telling you all that would be silly! Because you are a car driver, not all car drivers. You have no association with the person next to you on the freeway other than that you are both people, alone in a car, coming from a similar direction and going in a similar direction. That's it.

The same is true for me. I am proud of my bike and the miles I put on it. I'm proud of my friends who actively and enthusiastically put miles on their bikes. But I honestly can't account for the actions of every hipster on a fixie, no more than you can account for the actions of every Escalade with spinning rims. I am my own person with my own story and my own love of cycling. Don't try to group me with those who don't know how to ride. Furthermore, don't pretend like you've never rolled through a stop sign or forgotten to signal. Please.

Does this make things a little bit more clear for you? Do you understand? Good. I hope this little talk comes in handy the next time you have the opportunity to meet a commuter.

Sincerely,

Me, just me, one cyclist among millions, Antonia, doing her best against these waves of constant stupidity.

"Run when you can, walk when you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up."

-Dean Karnazes

The Agony and the Ecstasy

In March I started a fear-based training program after signing up for the Irongirl Duathlon (taking place September 27th). First and foremost, my goal was to not die/ faint/ lose bowel control at the event. It's good to have goals.

The course map looks a little something like this. Run 2, Bike 22, Run 2. Because I started commuting to work over a year ago the riding aspect didn't really intimidate me. I know my legs. I know my bike. And I know both can do the job without falling apart. But running was a different matter. I hadn't run since high school and that incident consisted of an inglorious 14 minute mile that both my butch gym coach and wretched classmates laughed at. Openly.

So I did the best thing a terrified beginner could do: I got advice from someone who knows what they're doing and followed it.

I spoke with my best friend/ pilates instructor, Anna. "First," she told me, "get good shoes. Skimping on shoes just means foot, leg, back, muscle pain down the road." Check and check. I went to Sports Authority in Richfield and tried on every single pair of women's and men's shoes until I found a pair that was like stepping on clouds. Don't limit yourself to a certain brand or even style. Try it all until you find a pair that fit perfectly.

Next Anna said, "start slowly with interval training. Run a block then walk a block. Don't expect to run a marathon right away. Building up to 2 miles will take a lot of time and effort."

With those words Anna set me free. It had never crossed my mind I could allow myself to walk in my running training. Everyone I have ever seen running, was, well, running. I thought walking meant failure and ridicule (thank you high school!!) but in reality, walking is an important stepping stone to building enough endurance/ muscle strength to run.

So way back in March, when the sidewalks were still wet and partially covered in ice I set out on my run 1 block/ walk 1 block training program.

I ran 1 block!

Then I laid down in a random yard and rested.

Then I ran 1 block!

Then I puked blood in the street.

Then I ran 1 block!

Then I tried to flag down passing cars for a ride home.

It was agonizing. My insides felt like they were sloshing around and painfully bumping into each other. I was water logged. My lungs were angry and my muscles felt like they were tearing off my bones. I wanted to quit... But I didn't quit. I got really really pissed off instead. There I was, a 25 year old woman who couldn't move quickly under her own power for farther than 1 damned block. Come on. So I fought back. The next day I ran 1 block and 3 steps. The day after that I ran 1 block and the entire intersection. Every single time it got better and I went farther. I forced myself to continue on through stubborn, begruding determination.

If you are struggling in your fitness routine, the best advice I can give is to make it personal. Get angry at the distance that has conquered you. Whether it's 2 miles or 20 you must under no circumstance be defeated. With that in mind I plodded on. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. It happened so slowly I honestly didn't realize a change had taken place. Yesterday I decided, quite spur of the moment, to take the long way home. 4 hilly miles. And it didn't hurt. To my utter and total disbelief I actually enjoyed myself.

I guess the moral of the story besides achieving goals, feeling good about yourself, and conquring what you used to think was impossible, is really that everyone from my high school can suck it.

Cranking it out.

Currently working on artcrank SFO poster. woot woot!

"Fancy a lady riding a thing like that. With a leg on each side, disturbing the traffic."

-John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga