We Have a Biker

Helen has officially lifted her feet from the ground onto her bike pedals for at least one complete rotation of the pedals to become a Person Who Can Bike Without Training Wheels.

Hurrah, and Go Helen, etc.!


In other Helen news, she recently started swimming lessons (again). Last week was her first lesson, and after our initial shock at the ...imaginative determination of the establishment (it's housed in an office complex; the two pools are aboveground rubber tanks set on the floor...which means that while there I'm unable to imagine anything but the impressive deluge someone could achieve with an exacto knife), I am pretty confident that this is the right place for her now. She, however, is maaad, because her class consists of her and two boys and the (awesome) teacher is a boy and also they "only do easy things." The swim place claims that kids advance up the levels at their own pace, so I hope they'll demonstrate this by advancing Helen soon (hopefully to the level with the other girl and also a girl teacher).

However, she's still mad. There's the issue of the boys, for one thing; also, her hair is still too short for braided pigtails that are both long and not spiky. Also, I asked her to put her bowl on the counter when she was finished with her oatmeal, please.

At bedtime we're reading Charlotte's Web, which I may have picked up partly to give Helen a little background and context to her favorite food group (meat, with an emphasis on pork products), which she eats gleefully, without a trace of remorse. We're halfway through, and the book's central impact is finally beginning to dawn:

"Why did they say that Wilbur's going to be killed, Ma?"
"Well...that's what happens to pigs."
Thoughtful pause. "So we can make bacon. And pork."
"And ham."
"And HAMMMM. Oh, I love all those things! But I love Wilbur, too."
My guess is that she would sorrowfully send old Wilbur to the chopping block.

*

The April report:

Nature and my hike: check and check. Thanks to our trip to Ohio, the kids have been glutted with nature exposure and I've gone on countem THREE hikes this month.

Wild foods: morels at my parents' place (yummm) and dandelion greens picked from the yard and put into salads. I can't say I've really warmed to dandelions. They still look so weedy that I can't make the mental switch from "quick, get the weeder" to "let's pick that for salad." Plus it just tastes like leaf to me.

TBR Pile: better work this month. I just finished Bill Bryson's At Home and am hard at work on Dr. Zhivago. Perhaps this month I'll be able to start something that has been on my TBR list since before Christmas.

Moon rise: fail. It was beautiful, clear, but happened at Helen's bedtime.

New Year's Resolution #1 Accomplished

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to ride my bike to work at least once this year. Today I accomplished that resolution. Or, since I'm still at work, I've accomplished 1/2 of that resolution, with no deux ex machina in sight to help me not complete it. (However. It could still rain, and then I would Have To Call.)

Since my house is 12 miles from work as the crow flies, and 14-16 miles as the crow bikes, assuming the crow prefers to avoid hills and major streets just like I do, this is a major undertaking, one which has involved several stages of mental involvement. Here is a summary of those stages:

Stage 1. Preparation. Plotting routes, fretting, packing, tossing and turning in eager anticipation. I usually bring my lunch and purse in several ungainly handbags, so I had to break out the backpack. While I was at it, I packed my lunch (and Si's, and Helen's school swim bag, and I did the dishes, and then I got crabby and stomped around the house feeling put upon and overworked). Duration: approximately 4 days, greatly intensifying in the past 24 hours.

Stage 2. Delight. As I set off this morning (at 6:20), I couldn't stop smiling. The mountains were beautiful. The stormy clouds were beautiful. The early-morning gardens were beautiful. I saw a fox, and people walking their dogs, and big beds of blooming irises, and green meadows. The view in places (I was riding west, toward the mountains) was spectacular. Duration: 45 minutes.

Stage 3: Exhaustion. My legs started to hurt. Everything was uphill. I just wanted to take a break but I couldn't because a) I was already kind of late for work and b) I was right on a busy street and I didn't want to be a total obvious wimp. Duration: 45 minutes.

Stage 4: Grim soldiering on. The last mile was TOTALLY uphill. The only way I could do it and not stop or walk was to count to one hundred, over and over, and also remind myself that this was good exercise. Duration: 10 minutes.

Stage 5: Smug relief and pride. I rode my bike to work! I am so totally badass! Should I put my helmet right on my desk where everyone can see, or should I just announce on the intercom how awesome I am? Duration: 2 or 3 hours, until I realized that nobody actually cared.

Stage 6: Nervousness. How the hell am I going to get home? Duration: 6 hours, to present.

Stage 7: Exhaustion; also, overwhelming desire to take a nap. Duration: hard to tell, since I'm too sleepy to read the clock.

Stage 8: Help me.

Anyway, it's been fun. Hope to make it home.

Why I Love My Bike

My favorite form of transportation is the bike. Yes, it has its limitations: it doesn't do snow, and rain is kind of unpleasant, too. Long distances are inconvenient. But overall, if I could ride my bike everywhere, I would.

I bought my current bike in 1993 for $500--a Specialized Rockhopper mountainbike. At the time that was a sizeable chunk of my savings, but I fell so instantly in love that I didn't regret a single one of those dollars. I rode it in snow, in ice, in rain, in the dark. I used it for actual mountain biking and also for commuting to various jobs, including one that was ten miles away from where I lived (by sheer coincidence, that job lasted only two weeks).

Sixteen years later, I've put more miles on my bike than on my first two cars combined. I've ridden well into my third trimester of pregnancy. I even rode during the months of my first pregnancy when I was both hugely pregnant and crippled and had to walk with a cane--it was the only form of locomotion that didn't hurt. I've hauled groceries, kids, biology-chemistry-physics textbooks, and small pets. I ride to school events, baseball games, and playgrounds. As late as last week I hauled Helen to her ballet class on the bike carrier she is much too big for, and even though work is thirteen miles from my house I'm still hoping to commute here by bike, at least occasionally.

I love starting the day by riding to work. I've had to defend this to my kids countless times over the past years, usually while hauling their complaining selves out the door to their own bikes. I like starting the day with taking deep breaths of the crisp clean morning air, with getting a feel for the weather and the temper of the day ahead, with seeing what's out there or catching a glimpse of a hawk or a fox. I like getting to work a little chilly or damp, pulling off all my gear, shaking out my hair, and settling in. Inclement weather is a challenge, one that I've overcome by the time I get to my desk. One of the hardest things about having kids has been that this pleasure is so often inconvenient, or involves massive struggle or argument (the kids do NOT feel like riding their bikes is a great way to start the day).

One of the challenges with my new job is that regular bike commuting really isn't an option. By the most direct yet still bike-friendly route, it's thirteen miles, which could take me as long as an hour and a half one way (I like biking, but I'm not a fast biker). Combine that with an eight-and-half-hour day, kids to pick up and feed, and a spouse with his own busy and stressful schedule, biking to work can only be a luxury that I indulge in a few times a year. I'm bound and determined to do it, though--I'll keep you posted.