No I Didn't Get a DUI

Tuesday a lovely,elderly soul genteelly inquired about my getting my driver's license back. I was confused by her question. She explained that since I rode my bike everywhere, even to the Cathedral on Sundays that she assumed I must have lost my license. Then I understood. In my neighborhood, it is OK to be a spandex rider on a bike with skinny tires, but since I was dressed in civilian attire on a bike with fat tires, I must have lost my license for that is the only possible reason I would not be driving. Southern ladies drive SUV's not Schwinn's.

What a strange world.

GROW

The Grow goddess on the river lawn reminds me that Gratitude Really (is the) Only Way. Today, I was zooming along the bike path on MacDuff thinking I was doing it all myself and wasn't I wonderful to be biking rather than trapped in the aluminum tanks. Something reminded me that that was bogus cerebration. Someone laid the asphalt and painted the white stripe; someone grew the veggies that gave me the energy to pedal; someone designed, built, and assembled my trusty bike. Someone gave me the Neon Mormon jacket and the black pants. My eyesight was improved thanks to Dr. Wayne Wood. My teeshirt was Robo's. Very little was mine in the the true sense. Why is it so hard to remember that?????

How the Mighty Have Fallen

Today, after the ADA meeting on historic properties at First Guaranty, I rode back home thinking about retrofitting problems. My deep reverie was broken on Oak Street by B. calling my name. I responded by twisting the handlebars too quickly and the next thing I knew I was down on the asphalt for my third biker fall in three years. The first was in front of St. V's ER when I was pulling the grocery cart for the first time. The second was the result of a too quick right hand turn to ogle some well used garden urbanite. That fall caused a Navy pilot to run to my aid. Today's fall caused my friend to run from his house thinking I was seriously wounded. I wasn't. Total damage was one broken nail.

Upon reflection, I think I have been saved from more serious injury these three times because I have been helmet faithful. In all three incidents, I banged my head fairly hard, but didn't even have a headache because of the protection provided by the helmet.

Sometimes when I remember that no one in Tokyo wore a helmet, no one in Spain or France did either, I am tempted to omit my cranium cover. Thank heavens I didn't do that today.

Greenway Tears

When I celebrated my Medicare birthday, I wanted to mark the event in some fashion. I elected to bike 230 miles with the East Coast Greenway folks. These are the visionaries who are attempting to build a cycling analogue to the Appalachian Trail. They have actually roughed out a section from Key West to Maine. Granted much of it is on major highways, but some of it is on trails, rail and otherwise. The trip was demanding especially the 40 mile introductory leg through the Hastings potato fields. The moment I will never forget is when an octogenarian cycled past and said, " It's OK to cry, Victoria, but you have to keep pedaling." That is the kind of wisdom I need.

Flat Tire Odyssey

My husband's bike tire is flat and he has an appointment with a friend to hit dimpled balls. I walk the flat tire to Open Road for Ed, the bike magician, to fix. He looks like a literature professor with his shock of white hair and glasses on the tip of his nose. He peers at the tire and begins to take tiny piece of glass out of it with a special implement that resembles a darning needle. He kids me about hanging out behind bars.Into the shop comes a friend who needs to have her seat raised so that her knees will not be hurt as she prepares for the MS-150, an 80 mile ride. She did it years ago and now wants to try again.

When Ed hands me back the tire, I walk out and take a side trip to a friend's garden. It is an urban oasis complete with a poetry kiosk. They have friends from out of town staying with them and all of them are roasting coffee beans in a popcorn popper. Four kinds of beans from four different parts of the world. The house smells like a Starbucks.

Going home I find my friend outside her home considering an entirely new bike. She is sitting on it fingering the price tag.We look at her new landscaping and I walk on.Suddenly, I hear my name. Across the street a former student is standing with his daughter. He tells me he has just returned from Maine where he met another former student of mine. The man he mentions was in my class almost forty years ago but still remembers me fondly. The fact that he remembers me causes me to smile.

I head on home. Once again, because I have not been in my car, I have had three interactions I might not have had otherwise. The fabric of community has been woven just a little tighter. Plus, I've had a decent aerobic interval complete with weight bearing points.

What is PIE PEACE?

This less than deathless prose is not about pies, key lime or otherwise ! PIE is an acronym that stands for Personally Integrated Exercise. Peace is not an acronym. It is that energetic, do the next right thing feeling that exercise provides.

First, some background.For fifty eight years, I lived the life that my culture encouraged . I had a successful career, produced two beautiful boys,took exercise classes, ran distance, divorced, remarried,concocted great vinaigrette etc.

I lived on the same street in three different houses for thirty years. There were some bumps in the life road but, on the whole, they were speed bumps not barricades. When I turned 63, I gave my car away.

The give away was not altruism. Granted, my younger son needed a car. But,it was easy to give up my Gator blue CRV partially due to the fact I live in a 1920's neighborhood that was designed before cars had the upper hand. I can walk to the ER as well as to grocery stores and world class restaurants.

I think the real impetus was my long time interest in the legend on the old maps" Pass this there be dragons". I have always loved the slight unknown and have found the biggest adventure occurs when I stretch my personal limits.Now, being a woman who came of age in the 1950's, my limits were very well defined. Numerous Thou shall not's etc.

As a woman in her sixties, I have the sense that there is less time to explore limits, more of the sand in in the bottom of the hourglass. I am not being morbid,simply factual. My people are not long lived folks. I am also not someone who desires to take the QE2 to England, move to wine country, or sail to Surinam.I have grown deeply sensitive about carbon footprints and legacy.

What is important? Really important?

I think family and community and earth care are key factors at this stage. I want to stay healthy and I want to engage my community. I want to tread lightly on the earth. How can I best do this?

The real answer is, " I don't know." Every solution seems to produce consequences that I could not foresee. Still, I think giving up my car helps. I exercise whenever I need something. Quite frequently, I meet someone on the street and we have a conversation, thus building community. My husband and I call this spokal networking to differentiate it from social networking.

This blog will help me build a journal of my attempts to integrate exercise into daily living. Yes, I still go to the YMCA for classes,(I don't seem to Zumba well alone), but most of my exercise is housework, biking for daily needs, and gardening. Perhaps composing this will help me turn events into experience. I hope so.