I am by nature a very routine person.
Today, I left for work. As soon as I got in the car, I remembered that I was down to a quarter tank and needed to fill my tank up. So I made the trip over to my favorite gas station at the local village center. I've been going to this gas station for years because it's easy to get into--not like the other gas station closer to my house where you need to squeeze past parked trucks and perform some complicated driving maneuvers to get into an open space at the pump. At my favorite station, I drove right up to the same pump I always go to and then swiped my credit card into the machine.
And that's how I became a victim of credit card fraud.
As I was driving to work, my husband received an automated phone call from the bank saying that my credit card account had been flagged for fraudulent purchases. He sent me an e-mail asking me to go online and check my account, saying that there was a problem with it. When I went online, I had trouble getting into the account to check it, so I wrote down the number and called the bank.
I was asked if I made any Internet purchases that morning, and I said no. I was asked if I'd used the card, and I was prompted to recalled the gas purchase on the way to work. I was told that several small purchases were made on the card to test it, and then Internet purchases were made. The fraud was detected and the card was shut down within an hour of the purchase. I'll receive paperwork to erase the fraudulent purchases, and I hope it will not be too much of a hassle to rectify this.
I couldn't believe that the gas station had stolen my credit card information. I've been going to this gas station for years, and I plan to take this up with the gas station manager tomorrow.
Card Skimming
Out of curiosity, I did a search on Google and found out that what happened to me is part of a growing problem. The majority of credit card fraud occurs at gas stations (61.6%) and drug stores (14.3%), according to a Google summary of a Science Direct pay-per-view article.
At gas stations, thieves can install small skimming devices at the gas pump that are hard to detect which steal credit card and debit card data, According to an article in USA Today. The skimmed credit card data is then used to create duplicate credit cards that are used at the victim's expense. The theives will "test" the card with several small charges, and if the account holder doesn't shut off the card, much larger purchases are made, according to David Loshin's blog. Banks and credit card companies use algorithms to flag cards with suspicious purchases and card activity.
Some police departments are trying to place sticker seals on the pumps that gas station employees check daily...that's if the gas station employees aren't the cause of the problem. Other gas stations now require customers to enter their ZIP code, according to a story in The Boston Globe, because a thief is not likely to know the ZIP code for the card. This may be an especially effective deterrent in suburban locations where there are several ZIP codes in close proximity. I recall being asked to enter my ZIP code at another local gas station, but not this one.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
TriColumbia Howard Life 75K bike ride
Cycling is my weakest link in the swim-bike-run triad and I signed up for this this non-competitive, recreational 65K ride in hopes that it would motivate me to improve a weakness. When I stopped cycling outdoors in the fall, the furthest I'd gone was just under 20 miles. I Googled up a kilometers to miles converter and found that 65K was 40 miles, and with assurance and advice from others that it was a reasonable stretch, I signed up before the early bird deadline in January.
Two weeks before the event, I went to the Web site and pulled up the map of the route which said it was 47 miles. What!!!??? I did the kilometers-to-miles conversion which showed that 65K was 40 miles. Then I did a miles-to-kilometers conversion and entered 47 miles which was 75K. A week later, the event organizers also figured it out and put up a correction on the web site. I'd managed to do several 30-mile rides and to build up my long rides to 35 miles, but the route was now nearly 50 miles!!! This was 12 miles longer than anticipated, which would take me about another hour to complete. I went into a major panic.
I almost backed out. I thought about doing a shorter route...after all, nobody would really know which route I signed up for and which one I actually did. To top it all off, a week before the ride my knee was talking to me in a way that I didn't like.
Spring always seems to be a stressful time for me, and this spring has been particularly difficult. My husband is unemployed. My oldest son faced challenges. The IEP team for my youngest son couldn't even agree on a meeting date...let alone an IEP. I took on a time-consuming, challenging project. The unexpected expenses piled up: My son decided to go to the ER for pinkeye and then accidentally burned his laptop, and my husband smashed his car. Some days I just couldn't get motivated to get up. Some days I woke up early, filled with worry. My midweek workouts became inconsistent in the weeks leading up to the ride and I think that contributed to the knee issue.
To my credit, I'd tried out everything. I sampled energy snacks to ensure that they agreed with my stomach. I'd worn my new sunglasses and tried out chamois cream. I ordered an inexpensive long-sleeve jersey and knickers, but the weather turned out to be warmer than originally projected, and I decided that this was a problem that could be solved with a credit card. I walked into my local bike shop and bought a cute short-sleeve jersey (on sale) and some arm warmers (also on sale). I also made a smart decision to mount a second water bottle cage on the bike and filled one bottle with Gatorade and one with water.
I kept to myself before the event started because I felt self-conscious about my old bike. But nobody really cared. And then we were off to a leisurely start. I stayed toward the back and rode at an easy pace. The entire route was rolling hills, but the hilliest part occurred before the aid station at the local middle school. I overheard people saying that the route was beautiful, and they were right. The route goes past mansions that are selling for $1+ million, even in this economy. The grass was really lush and green. I rode alone for a while, except for being passed by "ride leaders," experienced cyclists that came whizzing as they checked to see that all was well along the route. There was only one part in which I got confused, and when I stopped to study the map, another group came up alongside me. I joined them as we rode down another section of Route 99, which goes past farms where the fields have not yet been planted. By now, the soreness in my knee had spread to a muscle across my upper thigh and to my hip, but I pedaled onward.
The route was in the shape of a spade, and we turned south, preparing to join the part of the route where we began, when the group came upon Fosters Country Store. Although normally closed on Sundays, the even organizers arranged for it to be open, and there would be no charge for anything in the store, although donations were welcome. I stopped and enjoyed an energy snack and conversation, but I was getting tired and sore, and mindful that a body in motion stays in motion, I didn't want to rest too long so I head out after some others who quickly sped off in the distance. I pedaled on alone, heading back along familiar territory when another group caught up to me.
This time, I was determined not to get dropped as we headed back into town toward the finish. Never mind my sore leg. Never mind the stop lights that separated us. I caught up to them and hung on. The desire to keep up with the pack helped me get through those last few miles...they brought me home!!!
My next project will be clipless pedals. Hear the crashing sound??
Two weeks before the event, I went to the Web site and pulled up the map of the route which said it was 47 miles. What!!!??? I did the kilometers-to-miles conversion which showed that 65K was 40 miles. Then I did a miles-to-kilometers conversion and entered 47 miles which was 75K. A week later, the event organizers also figured it out and put up a correction on the web site. I'd managed to do several 30-mile rides and to build up my long rides to 35 miles, but the route was now nearly 50 miles!!! This was 12 miles longer than anticipated, which would take me about another hour to complete. I went into a major panic.
I almost backed out. I thought about doing a shorter route...after all, nobody would really know which route I signed up for and which one I actually did. To top it all off, a week before the ride my knee was talking to me in a way that I didn't like.
Spring always seems to be a stressful time for me, and this spring has been particularly difficult. My husband is unemployed. My oldest son faced challenges. The IEP team for my youngest son couldn't even agree on a meeting date...let alone an IEP. I took on a time-consuming, challenging project. The unexpected expenses piled up: My son decided to go to the ER for pinkeye and then accidentally burned his laptop, and my husband smashed his car. Some days I just couldn't get motivated to get up. Some days I woke up early, filled with worry. My midweek workouts became inconsistent in the weeks leading up to the ride and I think that contributed to the knee issue.
To my credit, I'd tried out everything. I sampled energy snacks to ensure that they agreed with my stomach. I'd worn my new sunglasses and tried out chamois cream. I ordered an inexpensive long-sleeve jersey and knickers, but the weather turned out to be warmer than originally projected, and I decided that this was a problem that could be solved with a credit card. I walked into my local bike shop and bought a cute short-sleeve jersey (on sale) and some arm warmers (also on sale). I also made a smart decision to mount a second water bottle cage on the bike and filled one bottle with Gatorade and one with water.
I kept to myself before the event started because I felt self-conscious about my old bike. But nobody really cared. And then we were off to a leisurely start. I stayed toward the back and rode at an easy pace. The entire route was rolling hills, but the hilliest part occurred before the aid station at the local middle school. I overheard people saying that the route was beautiful, and they were right. The route goes past mansions that are selling for $1+ million, even in this economy. The grass was really lush and green. I rode alone for a while, except for being passed by "ride leaders," experienced cyclists that came whizzing as they checked to see that all was well along the route. There was only one part in which I got confused, and when I stopped to study the map, another group came up alongside me. I joined them as we rode down another section of Route 99, which goes past farms where the fields have not yet been planted. By now, the soreness in my knee had spread to a muscle across my upper thigh and to my hip, but I pedaled onward.
The route was in the shape of a spade, and we turned south, preparing to join the part of the route where we began, when the group came upon Fosters Country Store. Although normally closed on Sundays, the even organizers arranged for it to be open, and there would be no charge for anything in the store, although donations were welcome. I stopped and enjoyed an energy snack and conversation, but I was getting tired and sore, and mindful that a body in motion stays in motion, I didn't want to rest too long so I head out after some others who quickly sped off in the distance. I pedaled on alone, heading back along familiar territory when another group caught up to me.
This time, I was determined not to get dropped as we headed back into town toward the finish. Never mind my sore leg. Never mind the stop lights that separated us. I caught up to them and hung on. The desire to keep up with the pack helped me get through those last few miles...they brought me home!!!
My next project will be clipless pedals. Hear the crashing sound??
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
This I Believe
Someone posted a link to NPR's show, This I Believe, on their Facebook page. I found the essay, "I Am Still the Greatest" by Muhammad Ali so inspiring and I wanted to share. It's also available on podcast--and we'll see if I can get the hang of downloading and listening to a podcast.
There seems to be a theme here of posting inspirational videos and web sites, and maybe its a reflection that I need inspiration and hope. I keep running, but now it seems that I'm just running to keep up, and running to stay in place.
There seems to be a theme here of posting inspirational videos and web sites, and maybe its a reflection that I need inspiration and hope. I keep running, but now it seems that I'm just running to keep up, and running to stay in place.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
An Inspiring Video
An extraodinary Thai commercial from Pantene about a musician, who happens to be deaf.
Enjoy and be inspired!
Enjoy and be inspired!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Waiting on the World to Change
I used to tease my son about John Mayer's song, "Waiting on the World to Change." I believed that the song is symbolic of the passiveness of his generation--a generation that is passively waiting on the world to change, rather than taking action to change the world as our generation did. We didn't wait for the world to change, we protested the war. When it came to this war, our generation protested again, while the younger generation waited for the world to change.
But with the economy, I can totally relate to the lyrics. I feel powerless to change the world in the face of a global recession. I am simply waiting on the world to change...waiting for the stock market to rebound...waiting for people to get jobs--and waiting for my husband to get a job.
Here's a link to the Deaf interpretation of the song by the Deaf Performing Artists Network. Yeah, D/deaf people have been waiting for the world to change for a long time and while we've taken action, such as Deaf President Now, and there are the obvious accomplishments of D/deaf people, which are pictured in the video, we're still waiting on societal attitudinal change which is long overdue.
Despite the overt bias against cochlear implants and the omission of oral deaf people in portraying our collective heritage, it's still a great video with a powerful message.
Watch it now!!!
But with the economy, I can totally relate to the lyrics. I feel powerless to change the world in the face of a global recession. I am simply waiting on the world to change...waiting for the stock market to rebound...waiting for people to get jobs--and waiting for my husband to get a job.
Here's a link to the Deaf interpretation of the song by the Deaf Performing Artists Network. Yeah, D/deaf people have been waiting for the world to change for a long time and while we've taken action, such as Deaf President Now, and there are the obvious accomplishments of D/deaf people, which are pictured in the video, we're still waiting on societal attitudinal change which is long overdue.
Despite the overt bias against cochlear implants and the omission of oral deaf people in portraying our collective heritage, it's still a great video with a powerful message.
Watch it now!!!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Group Ride
The weekend started out with my co-worker asking me as she was heading out of the office if a long bike ride was scheduled for my weekend.
I asked her how she knew. A member of the swim team was coordinating a bike ride and this is the first time I planned on going. The co-worker mentioned the forecast for 70 degree weather, and she was right on target in knowing what inspired the ride.
March howled in with a snowstorm on Monday morning that brought two feet of snow. I awoke with a headache. After calling into work and realizing that I could use my leave and take the day off, I gulped down some Tylenol and pulled the covers over my head, beginning a desultory week of lapsed training.
The week ended feeling like summer. I couldn't believe the air could feel so warm with snow on the ground. When I dressed for the ride, I ran up and down the stairs more than five times trying to figure out what to wear. I traded my long sleeve shirt and fleece sleeveless vest for a short sleeve shirt and my bright yellow jacket. I ditched the idea of wearing my light tights and my cycling jersey which is bright yellow but shows off every bulge in my middle-age body. But I piled it all in the car, just in case.
I warned the person coordinating the ride that I was a slow cyclist and the farthest I'd gone was 20 miles. I took my place at the back of the pack and expected to get dropped five minutes into the ride. But it didn't happen. I managed to hang on. It was also, I learned, a no-drop ride and people stopped and waited for stragglers to catch up because even strong riders could get stuck waiting for a traffic light to change. Everyone looked out for each other. At one point, a rider fell at an intersection because she couldn't unclip her pedals (which didn't exactly make me anxious to graduate to clipless), and I waited for her. I think she was really hurting after that, but she finished the ride, even after I'd assumed that she'd turned back.
I knew about the route because it was popular with the local tri club, which has Saturday morning rides along this road, but I'd never done it. It's a beautiful ride that goes past suburbs and then meanders past farmland where fields are covered with straw this time of year. There's horses grazing near old barns and a hint of manure in the air. If I was riding by myself, I would have gone slower and just taken in all the scenery.
One of the advantages to a group ride is that it challenges you to go faster, out of your comfort zone. I learned a lot just by observing the group norms as well as the customs, such as making the hand signal for slowing down if one was unexpectedly slowing. Riding in the back of the pack has its advantages because I was also able to learn a lot just by observing the more experienced cyclists. What kinds of gearing might they be using on a hill, based on their leg speed? Why was it that they were able to go faster downhill (as well as uphill)? I watched their body positioning, leg speed, and how they clipped and unclipped.
The route is a series of rolling hills, and the low point on the ride was a hill that decimated me. Just before the turnaround point, I dismounted and walked up the hill for a bit. Another cyclist asked if I wanted to stop for a breathing break. I was panting like a puppy dog. I have half the mind to go back and do this route on my own, just to master that hill. The ride back was easier. Either I'd gotten my second wind or we were going slower, and I finished the 22 mile ride comfortably with energy in the tank.
The most difficult challenge for me was my bicycle. I have a vintage bike from my college years, and everyone else has an expensive, modern bike. I saw people glance at my bike, but tactfully say nothing. A bit like driving an old Volkswagen Beetle while everyone else drives a BMW, Porsche, or Jaguar. Part of me doesn't mind driving an old Beatle...but at the same time, I felt like a pauper. I'm very thrifty when it comes to spending money on a hobby, and most of my clothing is inexpensive and so are most of my bike parts. The shoes and seat came from eBay. The aerobars are new; I know they're overkill, but I like them mostly for looks and for practice, not because I'm actually fast and hope to gain more speed through an aerodynamic position. When I mentioned the bike situation to my family, my 15-year-old summed it up astutely and said, "Mom, we offered to buy you a new bike when the economy was better, but you refused." There's no easy solution to this dilemma, and no new bike in the forecast.
I asked her how she knew. A member of the swim team was coordinating a bike ride and this is the first time I planned on going. The co-worker mentioned the forecast for 70 degree weather, and she was right on target in knowing what inspired the ride.
March howled in with a snowstorm on Monday morning that brought two feet of snow. I awoke with a headache. After calling into work and realizing that I could use my leave and take the day off, I gulped down some Tylenol and pulled the covers over my head, beginning a desultory week of lapsed training.
The week ended feeling like summer. I couldn't believe the air could feel so warm with snow on the ground. When I dressed for the ride, I ran up and down the stairs more than five times trying to figure out what to wear. I traded my long sleeve shirt and fleece sleeveless vest for a short sleeve shirt and my bright yellow jacket. I ditched the idea of wearing my light tights and my cycling jersey which is bright yellow but shows off every bulge in my middle-age body. But I piled it all in the car, just in case.
I warned the person coordinating the ride that I was a slow cyclist and the farthest I'd gone was 20 miles. I took my place at the back of the pack and expected to get dropped five minutes into the ride. But it didn't happen. I managed to hang on. It was also, I learned, a no-drop ride and people stopped and waited for stragglers to catch up because even strong riders could get stuck waiting for a traffic light to change. Everyone looked out for each other. At one point, a rider fell at an intersection because she couldn't unclip her pedals (which didn't exactly make me anxious to graduate to clipless), and I waited for her. I think she was really hurting after that, but she finished the ride, even after I'd assumed that she'd turned back.
I knew about the route because it was popular with the local tri club, which has Saturday morning rides along this road, but I'd never done it. It's a beautiful ride that goes past suburbs and then meanders past farmland where fields are covered with straw this time of year. There's horses grazing near old barns and a hint of manure in the air. If I was riding by myself, I would have gone slower and just taken in all the scenery.
One of the advantages to a group ride is that it challenges you to go faster, out of your comfort zone. I learned a lot just by observing the group norms as well as the customs, such as making the hand signal for slowing down if one was unexpectedly slowing. Riding in the back of the pack has its advantages because I was also able to learn a lot just by observing the more experienced cyclists. What kinds of gearing might they be using on a hill, based on their leg speed? Why was it that they were able to go faster downhill (as well as uphill)? I watched their body positioning, leg speed, and how they clipped and unclipped.
The route is a series of rolling hills, and the low point on the ride was a hill that decimated me. Just before the turnaround point, I dismounted and walked up the hill for a bit. Another cyclist asked if I wanted to stop for a breathing break. I was panting like a puppy dog. I have half the mind to go back and do this route on my own, just to master that hill. The ride back was easier. Either I'd gotten my second wind or we were going slower, and I finished the 22 mile ride comfortably with energy in the tank.
The most difficult challenge for me was my bicycle. I have a vintage bike from my college years, and everyone else has an expensive, modern bike. I saw people glance at my bike, but tactfully say nothing. A bit like driving an old Volkswagen Beetle while everyone else drives a BMW, Porsche, or Jaguar. Part of me doesn't mind driving an old Beatle...but at the same time, I felt like a pauper. I'm very thrifty when it comes to spending money on a hobby, and most of my clothing is inexpensive and so are most of my bike parts. The shoes and seat came from eBay. The aerobars are new; I know they're overkill, but I like them mostly for looks and for practice, not because I'm actually fast and hope to gain more speed through an aerodynamic position. When I mentioned the bike situation to my family, my 15-year-old summed it up astutely and said, "Mom, we offered to buy you a new bike when the economy was better, but you refused." There's no easy solution to this dilemma, and no new bike in the forecast.
Well, in defense of my bike Delilah (named after the song, "Hey There Delilah" by the Plain White Ts and suited to her pastel colors), I just got a call from my bike shop which said that nothing needed to be replaced during the recent tune-up. "A quality bike like that will just run and run," the mechanic said. She's about 21 years old and still going strong.
Overall, a really nice ride.
Overall, a really nice ride.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Slowly, But Surely
The thing I'm most thankful for is just staying upbeat. I finally got back into a training routine at the end of January. Training is going along slowly, but surely, which is a good way for things to go. I'm training with fingers crossed as I build up for my spring races. I signed up for a long ride in effort to improve my cycling skills. I wanted to sign up for a spring half marathon, but I knew I didn't have a good base from which to train, so I scrapped that idea in favor of a slightly shorter summer race. I'm looking forward to both, and I have my eyes on several other summer races, but I'm trying to cut back on my multisport expenses so I'm limiting myself to nearby races that don't require travel.
My mornings alternate between spinning with Troy or running. Cycling and running seem to go together like peas and carrots in the way that they complement one another. One midweek run is a slow and easy run-walk and the other spicy speedwork.
On the weekends, I'm slowly building up my long run by 1/2 mile at a time. I feel stronger now, and I've abandoned the run-walk strategy for now. Instead, I try to run slow and keep on running. I have a new Garmin--a Christmas gift from my husband and something I never thought I'd have in real life--which is set to show the average pace. This is a wonderful tool for helping me maintain a particular pace during a long run, such as a 12 or 13 minute mile. I'm gradually trying to incorporate an itty bitty core workout, as I really notice that my core muscles are weaker now than last fall when I did core workouts once or twice a week. The biggest loss is my husband as my running partner. I miss him running alongside me on longer runs, even if he did wear an iPod and start singing along.
In the evenings, I'm going to trade swimming for studying as I'm working toward an academic goal. Right now, I'm not at all sure about the outcome. The more I study, the worse I seem to do. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that this is the last shot at pursuing an academic goal--and even if I fail, I want to go down trying.
My older son is having a rebuilding semester. He likes his apartment and his friends come to visit. He's spending every last dime on the slopes, although I wish he would stay out of Teocalli Bowl and the double-black diamond runs. My youngest is very popular and thinks about Woodward all of the time.
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