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!!!

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.

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.

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.