Cycling Milestones

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I’m trying to ratchet up my cycling miles.  If we’re going to do 70 miles a day for the first 5 days of the Trans-Superior Cycling Tour, I need to keep upping my longest distance.  To date, my max has been 40 miles.  I’ve had my sights set on 50, and decided today was the day.  Beautiful sunny day, no wind, and temps in the high 60’s – perfect!  It was a glorious day to be out cycling, and although I started to feel the curse of the saddle after about 30 miles, and found myself choosing easier gears after 40 miles, overall it was a great ride!  Sort of like marathon training – after while, you are on auto-pilot, and the miles melt away behind you.

The other reason for the push was that we have registered for the Tour de Pepin, a cycling tour around Lake Pepin on June 2.  We intended to do the 50 mile ride, thinking it would be fun to take the paddlewheeler back to the start.  But the best ferry times fill up quickly (lesson learned!), so we defaulted to doing the full 72 mile ride.  Being the overachiever I am, I harbored secret desires to do the full ride anyway, so I’m not too disappointed.

I’ll worry about putting consecutive days of long rides together later. And adding more hill work.  I think I have plenty to keep me challenged until the final test in mid-August.

In Memory of Mom

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This Mothers’ Day has a new twist for me. It’s my first without my own mother. For the first time I will not be seeking out just the right card and gift for Mom on Mothers’ Day. I won’t be stopping by her house to give her a hug and stay for a visit. Even though Alzheimer’s stole Mom’s memory over time, it was still important to mark the day and look for some way to brighten her life. She was still my mom. And she will always be my role model.

Mom was my best cheerleader. There was nothing she thought I couldn’t do. When I took up running, she was the one to let me know that Grandma’s Marathon was starting up a half-marathon. Of course she knew I could do it. No question. And she was there on the course year after year for the full marathons that followed. Two years ago was the first time she missed, and I found it hard to breath as I passed “her” corner.

Mom was there at all my concerts, my recitals, the talent shows. No matter what the event, she was there. When I had kids, she came for their plays, their concerts, their graduations.

Mom taught me to sew like a pro. We matched plaids so well you couldn’t tell there was a seam. When I asked her to make a dress for my daughter’s American Girl Doll (named Molly, of course!), she bought the pattern and made every single outfit! When it came time to prune my closets in preparation for moving, I admit to squirreling away a few treasures that she made for me. I may never again wear the lace-inserted blouse she made, but it was too special to let go.

I wrote to Mom every week. She loved reading my letters. And when she could no longer read them, her caregivers read them to her. Mom always encouraged me in my writing. It’s because of her that I started up this blog – to pursue writing and see where it can take me.

Happy Mothers’ Day, Mom. I miss you.

Up North at the Cabin

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Like all good Minnesota families, we have a cabin Up North.  Ours is a true cabin.  It’s meant for three seasons, but we use it all four.  It has running water, pumped directly from the lake, but with the benefit of a hot water heater for showers and washing dishes.  Drinking water comes in a large jug we bring from home.  Heat emanates from the fireplace, or wood stove – sometimes both.  Appliances are limited to stove and refrigerator.  No TV, no phone.  And limited cell coverage.  I hope it stays that way.

Two bedrooms and main room/kitchen make for cozy space.  Carving a bunkhouse out of the front of the shed when the kids became teenagers was a timely idea – they could make as much noise and stay up as late as they wanted, and we didn’t mind.  Add a sauna, and that’s it.  Simple is best. That’s what cabin life is all about.

Naturally, being in Minnesota, our cabin is on a lake.  There is nothing better than waking up on a summer morning, pulling back the curtain and peering out at a glorious sunrise.  Hearing the loons call is added glory.  Ours is a spring-fed lake, deep and cold.  No matter how warm the summer, swimming is always “refreshing.”  The guys love fishing, the girls prefer hanging out on the dock.  Night times mean playing games or reading books.  Sometimes a bonfire or late-night sauna and jump in the lake.

There is no better place for family time.  We bought the cabin not long after our youngest was born, and we have the best memories from time spent there.  We have a journal recording each visit and photo albums full of pictures.  And plenty of stories to tell.

Tomorrow we head up there to open it up for another summer – let cabin season begin!

The Gift of Time

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Mothers’ Day is still nearly a week away, but I already have my Mothers’ Day presents – time with each of my children.  It was just coincidence that it happened this way, but it was a lovely confluence of events.  At this point in my life, there is nothing more meaningful than spending time with people and creating memories.   And I just stored up a week’s worth of the best of both.

It started with my middle son, Carl.  Despite having moved to DC and started a new job, the arrival of a new niece was reason enough for him to make a special trip home.  So a week ago, he inhabited our extra bedroom once again, and we spent a weekend hanging out as a family and doing some of our favorite activities together – enjoying a meal, going out for coffee after church, playing cards and of course cuddling the new arrival and playing with 2 year old Ben.  It was a low key and relaxing weekend, with time enough to talk and just be.

Immediately afterwards, my daughter, Karen, and I spent three days together in Duluth.  We took advantage of her being home on maternity leave for some special time together, along with the grand-kids.  Just tending to the kids took most of our time – how quickly one forgets just how all consuming that can be!  But it was joyful time with the freedom from other tasks on our plates, with plenty of opportunity to talk and share.  The weather even obliged by gifting us with a beautiful day to sit at the water’s edge at Brighton Beach and throw the endless supply of rocks into the lake.

My next visit required a bit of travel.  Armed with audio books and podcasts, I made the drive out to Indiana for Moms’ Weekend with my youngest son, Erik, at Rose-Hulman.  Even though I knew we’d be back in less than three weeks for graduation, I wanted this last Mom’s time with him.  He got up early to share the decadent B&B breakfasts with me, we went for a long bike ride and rewarded ourselves at Dairy Queen, and he demonstrated the robot he programmed for his Senior Design project.  Walks in the park and seeing the college production of Phantom of the Opera rounded out our weekend.

It is such a blessing to have adult children with whom it is such a pleasure to spend time.  I am a very lucky Mom.

Graduation Travel Tradition

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It started with my husband.  During his senior year of college, he spent a week in Antigua with his parents.  Not with his brothers, just him and his parents.  It made a big impression on him, and he felt it was a special time shared with his parents before he left school and started his first job.  At his suggestion we decided to replicate it.

Even when they were young, we told our children about this plan.  When they graduated from college, we would take them – not their siblings – on a trip, to a destination of their choosing.  Over the years, it became my favorite dinner time probe.  Where do you think you will go for your graduation trip?

Our first trip was to Jamaica.  Our daughter, Karen, wanted a beach vacation, and a place to relax and soak up the sun after a hectic senior year.  We found a wonderful small resort, Catcha Falling Star, perched on the cliffs south of Negril.  We loved our round air-cooled cottage, jumping into the deep blue waters off the rocks, reading by the waterside, and sampling the local fare for dinner.  It was a week of pure relaxation and slow pace.  It was on that trip that Karen shared with us the depth of her love for her now-husband.  Truly a special time!

The next trip took us to Alaska.  Our son, Carl, was looking for adventure and wilderness.  Traveling around the southern portion of the state our favorite venue was Bowman’s Bear Creek Lodge on the Kenai Peninsula.  From there we experienced sea kayaking in Resurrection Bay, fishing for salmon, hiking on glaciers, and enjoyed the best weather of the trip.  The rustic log cabins at Bowman’s and delicious dinner savored on the porch were the perfect complement to our outdoor experience.  We especially relished that week with Carl, as soon afterwards he left for a year’s study abroad as part of his master’s degree program in International Relations.

And now the third and final trip.  Erik will graduate this spring and has selected Banff and Jasper in the Canadian Rockies for his trip.  Hiking and mountains were the key ingredients for him.  The tickets are purchased, lodging reservations in the making, and anticipation is growing.  Now all he has to do is get his diploma.

That will be the end for this generation.  Will they continue the tradition?

Cycling progress?

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For almost two months now, I have been diligently training.  Cycling 3-4 days a week, with at least one and more often two long rides.  I’m up to 40 miles at a stretch now.  I’ve even worked in some hill training.  It has felt good.  I can feel my strength increasing, my endurance improving and the early pain in my knees has melted away.  I really feel like I’m making progress!  Bring on the Trans-Superior Cycling Tour – I’m going to be good and ready!

Just for fun, I thought I’d check on my overall mileage.  My favorite tracking software, SportTracks, calculates cumulative mileage for my equipment.  So a quick check after today’s ride gave me the answer.  598 miles.  Seriously?  That’s all?  Working the math backwards through my recent rides, I figured out that I hit 500 miles some time during last Tuesday’s ride.  It took me 1.5 months to cycle what we’re planning on doing on a 9-day Tour…  What a blow.

Good thing that Tour isn’t until August.  I think I have more training to do.

Running Ambassadors

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It was our last day in the French countryside.  Staying in a 200-year-old farmhouse in a village of 100 people, my husband, Rich, and I had spent the week in our preferred style of travel – visiting small, out of the way places and savoring the local flavor.

Our destination for that afternoon was Lucon, chosen for its nice Cathedral and formal gardens.  When we arrived, it was clear that we’d stumbled upon an event of some kind.  It turned out to be the start of a running race.  As runners ourselves, it was with a pang of envy that we watched the racers pass.  Being spectators has never been our strong point.  Returning our attention to the “sights” of the town, we found a sign listing the afternoon’s events.   We had just witnessed the start of the 5500m race, and the 10k was yet to come in an hour.  An instantaneous moment of insanity gripped us, as we considered entering the race.  But our running gear was an hour’s drive away, too far to make it back in time.  Practicality ruled, and we continued our way through the town center.  Browsing in shop windows and taking in the town’s architecture consumed 45 minutes, but not our minds…they were still back on that race.  So with 15 minutes to the start, we entered in our own race against time – getting outfitted and into that race!

Our first destination was a shoe store, where we rushed in and tried to explain in our best high school French (now decades past) that we needed shoes to run in that race!  We managed to find two pair that would do, but did not want to commit to buying them unless we could complete the outfit with shorts.  Struggling to get our point across, we acquired directions to the sporting goods store, where we found and changed into new running shorts.  While I completed the transaction for the shoes, Rich made a dash for the starting line.  When I joined him there, he was explaining our plight to the officials – we wanted to race, but alas were not registered.  All this with moments to go before the starting time.  The response, “C’est ne pas grave!” (that’s not serious) and an invitation to join the race was all it took.  Soon we were off with the starting gun!

Somehow we managed to understand that the race would be three loops through town.  We both ran on adrenaline, not being in our best racing condition, and were cheered on by the officials at the starting line each time we passed.  A couple of times we were spotted for running without racing numbers, but a quick shout “Je suis le Americaine!” was all it took – the return look was understanding and forgiveness.   We were steered away from the official chutes at the finish, but the words “Etats Unis” ringing out over the loud speakers recognized our finish in a unique way.

Our friend from the starting line soon sought us out, along with a woman who turned out to be a local reporter covering the race.  Learning the tale of how we entered the race, she entreated us to stay for the awards ceremony.  In the meantime, we took a quick loop through town to return to the shops where we had made our purchases.  Miming our success, we joyfully thanked the merchants amidst exchanges of congratulations and laughter.  We returned to find an Olympic-style podium where local dignitaries presented trophies and large bouquets of flowers to the winners of the various races.  The next thing we knew, we heard them announcing our names!  The journalist woman ushered us up to the front, where they asked us to take our places on the #1 and #2 stands!  Our French served us well enough to understand the Consular General’s description for the audience of how we had come to visit their town, patronized their local shops and joined in the race.  He then turned to us and thanked us in his best English.  Thinking we were done, we were about to depart when he presented us each with a trophy cup, accompanied by a kiss on each cheek for me, 1-2-3 times, as is the custom in Lucon!  We felt quite the celebrities!

We never did see that Cathedral, nor the formal gardens.  But there is no doubt we took in the local flavor.

Planting the Seed

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When my children were very little, I took up running to stay in shape.  As in most things I do, I jumped into it wholeheartedly, and was soon hooked on running and entering local races.  When I could, I’d bring the kids along and enter them in the kids’ Fun Runs.  They even humored me when they got older, and joined me in some 10k races.

Time marches on.  Kids grow up and become more independent, and parents have more time.  I moved up to half-marathons and then marathons.  It was Mom’s running obsession, but they were always there to cheer me on.  That was the extent of their involvement, or so I thought.

It wasn’t until they got into college that the seeds started to grow.  One by one, they took up running or cycling.  It wasn’t long before they too were reaching for extreme goals.  My daughter joined my husband and me running Grandma’s Marathon.  Two years later we added my youngest son as well!  Our middle son – always the independent thinker, no running for him, thank you – did the MS150 bike ride and the week-long RAGBRAI bike ride across Iowa.  And that was just the beginning – we have shared numerous races and events since then.

How did we become such an athletic family?  Those seeds must have germinated.