tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61235708414074225652024-03-04T22:20:57.136-06:00Sweating for ShelterOne woman/one bike raising pledges and awareness for Dane County Humane SocietyOur Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-22313805802682018832011-10-31T23:00:00.004-05:002011-11-01T10:11:29.356-05:00Day 42: The planets align<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 42 miles to/from work: 26.8<br />
Total miles for S4S: 1119.6</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>We are not doers; we are deciders. Once we decide, the doing is easy.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Ralph Blum</span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdNwBiWJ2NBPMjuP5DkbM02nZ2lgcNZxZKE3e2zSY3wumgPjLaGH7-8heq4AgSjM78LihT8Kb_Ea-eBDerNU3ggw3_tHOtuxFAH9NXJhMS-WejY721GefTyTCTNaRzjKVnnrk-yTiFAzw/s1600/iPhone+1148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdNwBiWJ2NBPMjuP5DkbM02nZ2lgcNZxZKE3e2zSY3wumgPjLaGH7-8heq4AgSjM78LihT8Kb_Ea-eBDerNU3ggw3_tHOtuxFAH9NXJhMS-WejY721GefTyTCTNaRzjKVnnrk-yTiFAzw/s320/iPhone+1148.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This is really hard—the last ride, the last post* of Sweating for Shelter. It's like saying good-bye to an old friend after amazing adventures of inner and outer discovery. The focus and discipline of S4S have been simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting, creating a confluence of regret and relief that this particular chapter is ending. But enough of the maudlin contemplation</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">—you're undoubtedly anxiously awaiting the weather report.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaq_11SbmgRvQUMCknlrO8rw-Aw0Jpi55oGSfvSJv0A2VKx5yhYmT7X1ks69EZmjl9MWT9icTUxZggWpnOYatLtpYHGVJSAnbPXqgWO78eHKUXXVFKxkNlvg56EHsjlQXElPAU5unh38/s1600/iPhone+1155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaq_11SbmgRvQUMCknlrO8rw-Aw0Jpi55oGSfvSJv0A2VKx5yhYmT7X1ks69EZmjl9MWT9icTUxZggWpnOYatLtpYHGVJSAnbPXqgWO78eHKUXXVFKxkNlvg56EHsjlQXElPAU5unh38/s320/iPhone+1155.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Odd stuff, it was. Silver beauty and I started with sun in the east, threatening darkness in the west, and temperatures in the low 40s. The forecast was for a drop of 5 degrees by the time we got to work but with the compensating promise of cheery sunniness. The forecast, not surprisingly, told a half-truth. The cloud cover soon shut out all signs of the sun as my toes turned to ice. My friend Jan in Rockport, Texas, periodically reminds me, "I don't do cold!!!!!" (Exclamation points hers.) So for Jan and some of you other cold-phobics, it's hard to explain how a ride that's a little chilly and not optimally comfortable can be a thing of beauty and personal enjoyment. Other than my frigid digits, the coolness felt like a sweet breeze passing through me, clearing space for the day. I savored every moment, and with each landmark I passed, thought about the other 41 times it had greeted, taunted, embraced, and cheered my journey.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyEU-3EHXogArKQSYCzJqjFhJ3v5RiJ395qe-NMnr0mtb9Z4AmgrQulxKi4N5YeDoQQG-l3jzpX-iaPfxllifpeYMnVbZx-aAPQ7HNE0IJ_uWVtR3qiMp5R_95Le1-NnRbMTQUKy9xpQ/s1600/iPhone+414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyEU-3EHXogArKQSYCzJqjFhJ3v5RiJ395qe-NMnr0mtb9Z4AmgrQulxKi4N5YeDoQQG-l3jzpX-iaPfxllifpeYMnVbZx-aAPQ7HNE0IJ_uWVtR3qiMp5R_95Le1-NnRbMTQUKy9xpQ/s320/iPhone+414.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Along the bike path that is a primary portion of my route are cosmic signs, each </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">with a picture of and information about a planet. I love these for their beauty and quirkiness. They are also symbolic of this project. I had been such a terrible procrastinator about biking to work and practicing my craft of writing. I wanted the motivation to consistently do both (not necessarily together). I wanted to do <i>much</i> more to support animal rescue.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDETwTJSx9vTSxyeK42TVSEbK-yFOykbGVN_Y6ufeU6VWJbVAzpGH7mBsX-qCP8qBxHvJTNwfU2KBQ7OThyphenhyphent5gxpyF-yN49Tkv1WDpLyXSu-jjNa7Qb4ApcOrUuvAcfFdl6evaf7ehKo/s1600/iPhone+507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDETwTJSx9vTSxyeK42TVSEbK-yFOykbGVN_Y6ufeU6VWJbVAzpGH7mBsX-qCP8qBxHvJTNwfU2KBQ7OThyphenhyphent5gxpyF-yN49Tkv1WDpLyXSu-jjNa7Qb4ApcOrUuvAcfFdl6evaf7ehKo/s320/iPhone+507.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">That last weekend in August when Jazz and I were out for a run, the idea for S4S downloaded in an instant. And truly, the planets aligned. Each of you so kindly and enthusiastically embraced the project and me. When I say I couldn't have done it without you, it is no exaggeration. If I had only committed to myself that I would bike and write every day, I'm pretty sure that ultimately I would have been as much of a liar as weather.com.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJGyHp32ndOQ3eO4A3hiZkULEOsFMOMzaEzEAmsRi6xiWNdq-0ZaDvwvw9saqlr4ryAxy-dr4OhnIXwGmv8SZj6lf94yVwfTYNfTDImL-NdxwX6IOVZXSw1JzT4JoEF1G8eJBBidzjYKM/s1600/iPhone+1118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJGyHp32ndOQ3eO4A3hiZkULEOsFMOMzaEzEAmsRi6xiWNdq-0ZaDvwvw9saqlr4ryAxy-dr4OhnIXwGmv8SZj6lf94yVwfTYNfTDImL-NdxwX6IOVZXSw1JzT4JoEF1G8eJBBidzjYKM/s320/iPhone+1118.jpg" width="192" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">To know I have such support—people who believe in me and are willing to put money on my doing what I promised, money that will touch other people and animals in ways none of us will never know—how could I not get up each morning and take Silver Beauty for the next chapter of the adventure? N</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">o matter how late the hour, I wasn't going to miss a blog post, with many of you telling me </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">that you actually want to read about how this is going and that you make it a part of that most sacred of rituals—your morning coffee. As inadequate as these words might be, I can only say "Thank you."<br />
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The ride home was like a ghost town with hardly any traffic and... oh yeah! It's Halloween! Go figure. It was fun seeing the yards with lights and pumpkins and kids in costume. The air bore the harbinger of winter, but was still pleasantly cool. As I sailed down hills, I felt like I was riding the last big wave of autumn. I counted down the last miles of S4S; and when I finally put Silver Beauty on her rack, it was with the sense that we had done a good thing.<br />
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Today I had a lovely email from my sweet sister Jo sending congrats on the finish of S4S. Her last sentence was: "If the animals you save only knew to what extent you love them...." If only they did, Jo, that would make it just about perfect.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">_______________</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">*I will do one more post with pledge/donation info and when/where for the S4S celebration.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eEqUyNaSdvg" width="420"></iframe>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-27870951721577372902011-10-28T23:17:00.004-05:002011-10-28T23:20:53.518-05:00Day 41: Cold Snap<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 41 miles to/from work: 26.8<br />
Total miles for S4S: 1092.8</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The only way to treat the common cold is with contempt.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Sir William Osler</span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_P-MUUqmuFztm5HYGuCPxSq2QMpZFesj6QdIjLssqs-EFHornZQGtA6m08T5dvqfrB0nLc4q5VR4ri2lbqCi0-6nXiIio2iDNfn9vjm-4y2Ak_fnQpagbaBON4Jj3zMliKvaPhnOFwgc/s1600/iPhone+1098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_P-MUUqmuFztm5HYGuCPxSq2QMpZFesj6QdIjLssqs-EFHornZQGtA6m08T5dvqfrB0nLc4q5VR4ri2lbqCi0-6nXiIio2iDNfn9vjm-4y2Ak_fnQpagbaBON4Jj3zMliKvaPhnOFwgc/s320/iPhone+1098.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I awoke to two sets of cold symptoms—one in my head and the other outdoors. Even the sniffling, sneezing, and coughing couldn't detract from the beautiful sunrise. Wearing my bathrobe, I grabbed my camera and went outside in mid-30s temps to capture the moment. At that point, it wasn't like I was going to catch a cold.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n1b8wJ-9ZNLUmkdNyHeKiCZ-STLUsc8yhQcqzuiEK6p0DhoT3-a8x78LYGDLIl01FXo2Y0Z9WAmfkKDW5Gh0hnlw3HHnOTYkyr-joj40eNN6ZQTRzNxcZVrv-ObVWnDvlbwyJacUjno/s1600/iPhone+1112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n1b8wJ-9ZNLUmkdNyHeKiCZ-STLUsc8yhQcqzuiEK6p0DhoT3-a8x78LYGDLIl01FXo2Y0Z9WAmfkKDW5Gh0hnlw3HHnOTYkyr-joj40eNN6ZQTRzNxcZVrv-ObVWnDvlbwyJacUjno/s320/iPhone+1112.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Scott, already established as our <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-40-toast-to-hero-of-s4s.html">S4S Hero</a>, first found a decongestant for me, then assembled a take-to-work package with every cold remedy known to pharma. It was as though he were lovingly packing a lunch with all the food groups. "Here's some Airborne chewable. Zicam with zinc. Hall's mentolyptus lozenges. Sudafed...." I was set.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4qBtbrz-XExDY3voMhf91Hsued1o2bTL58GRBBtUJy0DZOBg_EODY7pIH4P22SlB2XEOZbkc13VJg3Vld5l7-49zKscADx1XHR1i6fSFjQ0KOzluUuRg699LDQnFr_XmoOyiulBthcM/s1600/iPhone+1110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4qBtbrz-XExDY3voMhf91Hsued1o2bTL58GRBBtUJy0DZOBg_EODY7pIH4P22SlB2XEOZbkc13VJg3Vld5l7-49zKscADx1XHR1i6fSFjQ0KOzluUuRg699LDQnFr_XmoOyiulBthcM/s320/iPhone+1110.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> It was cold, but I was dressed for it. (You should have guessed that by now.) Since sunglasses fog up in the cold, and my safety goggles provide no glare deflection, I wore tinted ski goggles. I was attired with several layers of tops and tights, wool socks under neoprene booties, a balaclava, neck gator, and lobster gloves. Stylin'.<br />
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What an utterly gorgeous day. Severe clear blue skies, CAVU (ceiling absent, visibility unlimited). Every day is a good-to-be-above-ground day, but this one was particularly so. I pedaled off, happy to be here, and with a death grip on my bandanna.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7RL7ev29UdQO7V18oyA9rX7ymfxdJRMzuRHNAGdZfdlerxVClNcieLgFzDfNsocu0tJrcf6edNa1Z2h0yGZCymk7bOd0n10myKtvmycEawVM8LM_4LMfHWljM93HW34-A2_7p5mlPQHU/s1600/IMG_1796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7RL7ev29UdQO7V18oyA9rX7ymfxdJRMzuRHNAGdZfdlerxVClNcieLgFzDfNsocu0tJrcf6edNa1Z2h0yGZCymk7bOd0n10myKtvmycEawVM8LM_4LMfHWljM93HW34-A2_7p5mlPQHU/s320/IMG_1796.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Do you know how hard it is to blow your nose wearing ski goggles and big, clunky mits on your hands? Challenging, to say the least. I finally resorted to doing the occasional bandanna swipe and developed a rhythm of sniff-sniff/breathe, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">sniff-sniff/breathe—all nicely coordinated with the pedal strokes. Despite the tribulations of being a phlegm factory, the ride to work was surprisingly quick and pleasant.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPhsAcpQDwmEFWm-kjLRyB0uvAwyFFAfshyphenhyphenHwVDoFRlJeUAKyjjk84EjS0LExgZ-4b-oYHnTYu6qo7JPt61D0_DvO1D7skx2MbBzI2gOuTQ04jYENHccAY-fb0DQ5YvbQgY_e9w0HA-U/s1600/IMG_1832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPhsAcpQDwmEFWm-kjLRyB0uvAwyFFAfshyphenhyphenHwVDoFRlJeUAKyjjk84EjS0LExgZ-4b-oYHnTYu6qo7JPt61D0_DvO1D7skx2MbBzI2gOuTQ04jYENHccAY-fb0DQ5YvbQgY_e9w0HA-U/s320/IMG_1832.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> By the time I left the office, the sky had become ominously dark, with a thin halo of light at the horizon. The ride was an experience in weather Tourette Syndrome—angry outbursts of wind epithets were followed by the spitting of nasty bits of rain. An uneasy calm would ensue for awhile, then the whole process would repeat. The wind was at my back, and the rain did not get serious until I was safely at home. Another good ride despite less-than-optimal conditions.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Ahhhh... So good to be home with two days of rest in the forecast. Have a wonderful weekend, and be ready for our last S4S ride on Monday!</span></div>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-59469749015229488032011-10-27T21:38:00.001-05:002011-10-27T21:43:08.578-05:00Day 40: A toast to the hero of S4S<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 40 miles to/from work: 27.1</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 1066.0</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The real act of marriage takes place in the heart, not in the ballroom or church or synagogue. It's a choice you make—not just on your wedding day, but over and over again—and that choice is reflected in the way you treat your husband or wife.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Barbara de Angelis</span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbSV3_4rvwqA4t7SnW-G0Z2hgE_aUULhwG6XdhH16PUKG5t3fUQSn0DfGiT9E_zECMdDqKpepCPWjm6KtC4poLcmjk3iEulEaYFsgqn_P1DrWzJ37XwmFsDQatuRIkIGWguQmoYKouPc/s1600/iPhone+1089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbSV3_4rvwqA4t7SnW-G0Z2hgE_aUULhwG6XdhH16PUKG5t3fUQSn0DfGiT9E_zECMdDqKpepCPWjm6KtC4poLcmjk3iEulEaYFsgqn_P1DrWzJ37XwmFsDQatuRIkIGWguQmoYKouPc/s320/iPhone+1089.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">For the past two months you've been reading the daily reports about all manner of weather tedium and the gear/attire carefully selected for biking in every climactic nuance. This morning I couldn't access the Internet, which meant no weather info. I could make a good guess about what to wear; but the small details of having one layer too many or too few, the wrong socks, or unsuitable gloves could make a <i>big</i> difference in just how much kvetching <i>you</i> would have to endure after the fact. (See? It's all about you.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLM8MxIPu__z4pCWluOFbPSxCT8pvCwofyS0PobekSzhdJOqIctWNAt_CDRGtMnSPmRA2n7LSlzpSiZ2haxymo9iKsl6SosC-Os9G_rKrfzs_0moWMi8DqaNpsZKRy6hJ4gtQ7m26Ba8/s1600/iphone+1079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLM8MxIPu__z4pCWluOFbPSxCT8pvCwofyS0PobekSzhdJOqIctWNAt_CDRGtMnSPmRA2n7LSlzpSiZ2haxymo9iKsl6SosC-Os9G_rKrfzs_0moWMi8DqaNpsZKRy6hJ4gtQ7m26Ba8/s320/iphone+1079.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When Scott learned of the situation, he stopped his morning ablutions and immediately went to the basement to apply some kind of shock therapy to the router. He then planted himself at the computer, fully dedicated to ensuring I had every meteorological detail of the day. This is my husband: the hero behind—and sometimes at the forefront of—S4S.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmZJK_ovXzlwsiTVTENBFIIbXcnBGQ2VDdwXhPzD2_3SmV8VwBuoLU3OMSD0cJe52N3uQq8-aMnzJolUwaOh_775yBUZsgl9TVF4oaJ2ECq6ogrTG31W1o_RSayPZSKAOOslB48OgMjU/s1600/iPhone+1084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmZJK_ovXzlwsiTVTENBFIIbXcnBGQ2VDdwXhPzD2_3SmV8VwBuoLU3OMSD0cJe52N3uQq8-aMnzJolUwaOh_775yBUZsgl9TVF4oaJ2ECq6ogrTG31W1o_RSayPZSKAOOslB48OgMjU/s320/iPhone+1084.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Many of you know him and need no introduction to The Hero aka Scott Zimmermann. All of you have caught glimpses of him as he has made cameo appearances in S4S blog posts. What you haven't seen have been the many evenings that he has cooked dinner after I've gotten home late, tired, and sweaty. "No, you go upstairs and get into warm clothes. I'll take care of this." Or the follow-up when I start to clear the table, and he insists, "I'll do dishes. You get started on your blog." The miles he's walked the dog because I've become derelict about what used to be routine runs with her. Scott often stays up past any sensible bedtime so he can read a post as soon as I've published it.<br />
<br />
This project has been all kinds of wonderful. It has also been all-consuming and in many ways a disruption to the comfortable routine of our home life. Scott has been inhumanly patient, never complained, and been unfailingly supportive in ways both large and small.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0U3U-Q2R-vM86ereXmhfyfP8eutmCYvF9bLETMUxU7HmIOUwD7HBRte4C7DpRrttFDvdp8Vqbtt4_OUftNpo5kNJl15_bfbyrXSluGd4OPoHYPZ4p723hdmhRk7xuznAcNmEOr5Iza0/s1600/iPhone+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0U3U-Q2R-vM86ereXmhfyfP8eutmCYvF9bLETMUxU7HmIOUwD7HBRte4C7DpRrttFDvdp8Vqbtt4_OUftNpo5kNJl15_bfbyrXSluGd4OPoHYPZ4p723hdmhRk7xuznAcNmEOr5Iza0/s320/iPhone+003.jpg" width="239" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Some of you have shared what S4S has meant to you—that it has inspired you, changed your perspective, given you something to read with your coffee, and motivated you to change a habit or two. My friend "Cyn" (Lisa Jeanetta) even referred to it as "proving you can work miracles doing what you can, with what you have, from where you are." As the S4S community, we have all accomplished it together; but I want to pay special tribute to Scott</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">—the unsung hero of cameo appearances</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">—</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">for being instrumental in making it possible. Thank you, Darlin'. I am so lucky to have you as a friend, life partner, and unflagging supporter and cheerleader. You are The Best! Here's to you, my hero.</span></span></span></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-11803158551810068182011-10-26T23:38:00.037-05:002011-10-27T00:41:52.862-05:00Day 39: Lead<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 39 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 1038.9</b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You can lead a horse to water, but a pencil must be lead.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Stan Laurel</span></i><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuQ4rIo9jhVtG_t-NvijtDxtGuWXcta3XTwjHRApctX26jPBzS4QSew1YEm2OyL57cQeFGVJ3E40-e4YqqArW-KhogYwS4_ORHKbQLvQhakUKfUunLSE3Q3ouPpidhfMwzgjYxIo2_K8/s1600/iPhone+1037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuQ4rIo9jhVtG_t-NvijtDxtGuWXcta3XTwjHRApctX26jPBzS4QSew1YEm2OyL57cQeFGVJ3E40-e4YqqArW-KhogYwS4_ORHKbQLvQhakUKfUunLSE3Q3ouPpidhfMwzgjYxIo2_K8/s320/iPhone+1037.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Dense, dull gray. Leaden.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And that was just inside my head. Once again, sleep was in short supply following Last-Chance Tuesday (networking with rescues to save shelter animals scheduled for Wednesday morning euthanasia, as detailed in <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/09/day-14-saving-gator.html">Saving the Gator</a> and <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-23-another-close-one-for-last.html">Another Close One</a>), turning in at 1:30 am and arising—or grudgingly stumbling out of bed—at 6:15 this morning.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWlvBx7Vz2JQRKqr50G9uYnG1KfNKLnL9nGtBFtub2uQzR_-QZplXB0FuSgA1Wx516jHP9RftlNMOnT4WXdYjKx5l-xjkSXIbCSonrWHhI-43Bv6O8lxnBjD_EIdaQ4VB6n6np0PM8hyphenhyphenM/s1600/iPhone+1051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWlvBx7Vz2JQRKqr50G9uYnG1KfNKLnL9nGtBFtub2uQzR_-QZplXB0FuSgA1Wx516jHP9RftlNMOnT4WXdYjKx5l-xjkSXIbCSonrWHhI-43Bv6O8lxnBjD_EIdaQ4VB6n6np0PM8hyphenhyphenM/s320/iPhone+1051.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Exterior conditions were in perfect sync with my interior landscape, plus the added bonus of a chill wind. Oh boy! Let's get on a bike! From the beginning it, surprisingly, wasn't too bad. Employing leaden legs and mind to grapple with a cantankerous wind did not make it a pleasure cruise; but the routine of rhythmic motion melted away the miles and got me to work.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> When a bus passed me with the sign "100 Lives Lost to Breast Cancer Every Day", it made me consider that tragedy—then wonder about other types of loss. How many lives or fractions thereof are lost to inertia every day? How often do all of us get caught up in busy-ness and demands that have no real meaning or simply procrastinate taking the first step for something that would matter to us? I believe we each have a parade to create and lead</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">—or maybe many of them</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">—and so often they never take form. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"How stupid would I look? How many people would I annoy? How many people would change their opinion of me (or confirm the worst)?"</span></span></span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdBYerXbJ91nxYSHnLzlIFOI47Js1GM6pUfLAf38GC0YtxZLVDJ0L62nPqkWdoGT2L9ZexqdKCJciTvrdVBUkprp4hGDKGpBdRAO8fBgpb-2X4PXx3S9S_XaIoQ29B4AHF2zTjHWs2nE/s1600/nike-just-do-it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdBYerXbJ91nxYSHnLzlIFOI47Js1GM6pUfLAf38GC0YtxZLVDJ0L62nPqkWdoGT2L9ZexqdKCJciTvrdVBUkprp4hGDKGpBdRAO8fBgpb-2X4PXx3S9S_XaIoQ29B4AHF2zTjHWs2nE/s320/nike-just-do-it.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> The Nike logo "Just Do It" is simple and brilliant. Great marketing, but also a mantra for livin' the dream. Most of the things that, with our last breaths, we will be grateful to have done will probably not happen out of the blue, when we're well rested and excited to do them. They will be those things that even when it's uncomfortable, inconvenient, and the last thing we want to be doing, we nevertheless "just do it".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
After almost six decades, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, but S4S gives me a glimpse of how I want to live</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">—being on the edge, pushing the envelope, seeking the support of a community of loving and like-minded others. Let's keep this community going as we support each other in seeking our personal and collective parades and dreams and "just doing it" whatever that takes. There is a parade waiting for each of us to lead with flair, energy, and our unique brand of whackiness. Without us</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">—</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">without you</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">—that wild, colorful, inspirational event that might have been, which could have drawn countless others into its fabulous and creative vortex, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">will only exist as an empty street with some elephant droppings. If you're sitting on the sidelines, get the lead out of your butt, pick up your baton</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">—and lead.</span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8QER1ddSINY" width="560"></iframe></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-47630146303470650482011-10-25T22:50:00.029-05:002011-10-26T01:09:41.341-05:00Day 38: I have biked 500 miles, and I have biked 500 hundred more<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 38 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 1012.1</b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Japanese Proverb</span></i><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwcdqnVQ9JRDj-aN2Qf3Ao7El6gRlJGeWc05-TCfLCEXzW7qSJHtR27VsuSwWYadsrCJXEgi0OWG1Wa8-NoyFUcMhynKjYWkTame1-deDraWG1KCTMB_6pbmzFGx_zvwFBdkMRyQj7XQ/s1600/iPhone+975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwcdqnVQ9JRDj-aN2Qf3Ao7El6gRlJGeWc05-TCfLCEXzW7qSJHtR27VsuSwWYadsrCJXEgi0OWG1Wa8-NoyFUcMhynKjYWkTame1-deDraWG1KCTMB_6pbmzFGx_zvwFBdkMRyQj7XQ/s320/iPhone+975.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">At home while getting ready for work, I half-mindedly wondered why the dawn was taking so long to show even thin streams of light in the east. The dawning that finally occurred was in my blonde head. Oh. It's not all Mary Sunshiny because it's raining, <span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">overcast, and freakin' dark with that angry cloud cover</span>. Drat.</span></span><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yeU8nERBiE2sKW0kwjt42JrCMQmYEBp3humb82R2Xsm2sZ6EmpVy0_268JSpEthlouTbvQdq7Y0t0N6yMtrp0IeucQQqNNhifoMgyad8NakrF3bcNTKR0A8Ni0eP88S3vHrECVSFgaw/s1600/iPhone+1007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yeU8nERBiE2sKW0kwjt42JrCMQmYEBp3humb82R2Xsm2sZ6EmpVy0_268JSpEthlouTbvQdq7Y0t0N6yMtrp0IeucQQqNNhifoMgyad8NakrF3bcNTKR0A8Ni0eP88S3vHrECVSFgaw/s320/iPhone+1007.jpg" width="239" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">By the time I left, the rain was light enough to use only my screaming yellow windbreaker for protection, but threatening enough to pack my rain gear. The temperature felt relatively tropical at almost 50 degrees. After only a few miles, the rain stopped altogether and left a quiet hush, as though the world were holding its breath. The remainder of the ride felt like moving through the calm stillness of a Buddhist monastery.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Iga2ZUSWuGQ6p9lctg-teBocatQQlYHSGNDaRH1qoSL8LrXXWyait-KjL-KTCsp1FaWKRtBPry7fRn__0aJIIVW2b5ntgWHkzppX4nL4kesr8mcAV3fTRN0dzl6BUULUyJHLpyB9Xkc/s1600/Pelican.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Iga2ZUSWuGQ6p9lctg-teBocatQQlYHSGNDaRH1qoSL8LrXXWyait-KjL-KTCsp1FaWKRtBPry7fRn__0aJIIVW2b5ntgWHkzppX4nL4kesr8mcAV3fTRN0dzl6BUULUyJHLpyB9Xkc/s320/Pelican.jpg" width="187" /></a></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">During the afternoon, I had a scoop from Jan Viney at DCHS on our <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-35-pelican-and-beaver-walk-into-bar.html">pelican and beaver friends</a>: "Over $4,500 and counting has been raised for our special beaver and pelican patients. The pelican is officially blind in her right injured eye, but she is continuing to eat well and remains in good spirits. The beaver's hind leg injury is being closely monitored and medical decisions and relocation options are being discussed for him. We'll keep you updated! Thank YOU for your support of our companion AND wild animals!"</span><br />
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<div style="float: left; margin: 0 10px 5px 0;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="236" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/69AvNm8zubo" width="315"></iframe></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">With apologies to The Proclaimers for ripping off/paraphrasing their song title—but </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(and really... you <i>must</i> click the arrow to the left for the full effect of this moment and to be part of this celebration) it seemed appropriate for this S4S milestone. On the</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> return ride home I passed the S4S 1000-mile mark. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(Are you listening to the music? C'mon. Click the arrow. Sing along! Par-tay!) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When my odometer read 14.7, I stopped Silver Beauty, gave a little whoop (which scared a passing runner), took a couple pictures, and—well, it's not like I had a magnum of champagne with me—I got back on the road to home. I can't say it enough that you have been with me every pedal stroke of the way in this labor of legs and love. Thank you ever so much.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> It's been a really good day. And an incredible journey of 1000 miles.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-22009298821774736742011-10-24T23:13:00.008-05:002011-10-25T10:07:49.048-05:00Day 37: The Mother Nature Casino<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 37 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 985.3</b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>A lot of people would rather tour sewers than visit their cousins.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Jane Howard</span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ47mtkyjU9yVdiVyy3oShCtLCtbdZAtCqC-qrnLHKUg_pknHOCsGElI8-lYD4y2SydriY8ZuUTfp39klLad_SDKmOQ3GQsr8mS1t5_E84Zko7JBAaAKWJip1XAYZyCKNQo6rSXszGw3o/s1600/iPhone+959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ47mtkyjU9yVdiVyy3oShCtLCtbdZAtCqC-qrnLHKUg_pknHOCsGElI8-lYD4y2SydriY8ZuUTfp39klLad_SDKmOQ3GQsr8mS1t5_E84Zko7JBAaAKWJip1XAYZyCKNQo6rSXszGw3o/s320/iPhone+959.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This was the kind of morning that made even the sewage treatment plant look good. Brilliant sun and blue skies accompanied temperatures back up to the balmy 40s, while the fields emitted that mysterious and distant <i>Mists of Avalon</i> countenance. I'd had a weekend replete with sleep and fun, and I felt great. "And you couldn't <i>wait</i> to get on the bike, right?" Are you kidding? I wanted my car. I wanted to burn fossil fuels and go fast and be to work in 15 minutes. I wanted constant, instant gratification. I did not want to pedal. But... I pedaled.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1FScEh_rtuffsqbn60liibtrGxgGsNlpBxnsFiLr917zP-1ESNecwelAxA7oySEmMbbdvTJldYBChBFY3lHyZNbCHFIR6Hs03oauaLCIvhdzVIbUAAjm8qBd1F6t-EF9OfU6fVViEf4/s1600/iPhone+952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1FScEh_rtuffsqbn60liibtrGxgGsNlpBxnsFiLr917zP-1ESNecwelAxA7oySEmMbbdvTJldYBChBFY3lHyZNbCHFIR6Hs03oauaLCIvhdzVIbUAAjm8qBd1F6t-EF9OfU6fVViEf4/s320/iPhone+952.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">A corollary to <a href="http://userpage.chemie.fu-berlin.de/diverse/murphy/murphy2.html">Murphy's Law</a> states that Mother Nature is a bitch. She is certainly sneaky and capricious. As I was reluctantly pedaling along, thinking fondly of exhaust fumes and resisting the siren song of this alluring day, I passed a red-winged black bird. I kept going, then <i>had</i> to turn around. The bird was beautiful and made it abundantly clear that he found me annoying and intrusive. He chirped bitterly at me and petulantly refused to show his red side for the camera, then flew to another perch a few feet away. Tiring of my persistence, he finally flew away, knowing I would not.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-HO9-WMTBlil44xdLza7BcDP_Qr1AMGT0fc-DNbs5ciEDz9byPVOfFJmrHn4by07ZVjmt1c4XhF0QCysCJtSYaC9bCSSp8MZsBsM0fAuyhF3BHFKEcQoa5SGM8bwKvkj3SceTqylieiM/s1600/IMG_1639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-HO9-WMTBlil44xdLza7BcDP_Qr1AMGT0fc-DNbs5ciEDz9byPVOfFJmrHn4by07ZVjmt1c4XhF0QCysCJtSYaC9bCSSp8MZsBsM0fAuyhF3BHFKEcQoa5SGM8bwKvkj3SceTqylieiM/s320/IMG_1639.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I had barely gone another 100 feet before I was looking at an impressionist painting in 3D. Oh sure, Mom N, make me feel how wonderful it is to be going to work in nature, close to the earth, surrounded by beauty, sweet-smelling air splashing my face interwoven with the occasional odd thermal. Show me your cornucopia of flora and fauna and defy me to get this experience from the interior of an enclosed machine. You win. Bitch. I had no choice but to enjoy the rest of the ride.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsV33c_zELwP8apgBMUhJrYPeVVprUz8RmWb9RQ__eceHEJngr2Bs_eQc0KLjpTRKI9kxabQKKSnFBuVKH_znLg00bw-zP6n462SgxyoUceea0C42j2_s1sP6eWSBBQzcw6_yrWUK7U8/s1600/IMG_1646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsV33c_zELwP8apgBMUhJrYPeVVprUz8RmWb9RQ__eceHEJngr2Bs_eQc0KLjpTRKI9kxabQKKSnFBuVKH_znLg00bw-zP6n462SgxyoUceea0C42j2_s1sP6eWSBBQzcw6_yrWUK7U8/s320/IMG_1646.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Dusk was coming on in earnest when I left the office a little after 6:00. Mother Nature, the seductress, continued with her coy ploys. Something about the deepness of twilight on a clear evening gives the feeling of moving through space on a stream of silk. Smooth. Gossamer. It is an alternate universe that doesn't exist when the sun is high. Silver Beauty and I shimmied our way in the night with the bright-night-train light carving out our path. Within a couple miles of home, the cornucopia held one more gift—adolescent deer grazing just off the bike path. Their presence was ephemeral and breath-taking.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUARLMs8vbbr7-Mp9mXiXjlVVanzZIHHukQqkkOrQpxnfeP1aKPlUD0y94k4rXFw3Kkp0IZQu8baQxxdU5mlHnQgZSReeQ1A1o1RbHiI3v8LjTaMvQJzUdJVgIHhT5niPE6YWnuFirdQ/s1600/IMG_1647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUARLMs8vbbr7-Mp9mXiXjlVVanzZIHHukQqkkOrQpxnfeP1aKPlUD0y94k4rXFw3Kkp0IZQu8baQxxdU5mlHnQgZSReeQ1A1o1RbHiI3v8LjTaMvQJzUdJVgIHhT5niPE6YWnuFirdQ/s320/IMG_1647.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Deer may be as prevalent as taverns in Wisconsin, but to come upon one and behold it at close range for long moments, particularly without it being impaled on the grill of a car, is an uncommon and moving event.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Mother Nature is the Vegas of life. She holds the cards and stacks the deck. She can be hard and cruel. But when she pays off, it's the jackpot, baby.</span></div>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-33164343269762123972011-10-21T21:40:00.006-05:002011-10-21T21:55:08.648-05:00Day 36: Wearing stripes with plaid and maybe a little camo<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 36 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 958.5</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Once you can accept the universe as being something expanding into an infinite nothing which is something—wearing stripes with plaid is easy.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Albert Einstein</span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_onbZA6hQBhdOH_4ZR9LYpS1wfBI_dd-gQsHF0zITiGEOYHjsesfGHo8FwSf-g6TUp9a_0xgdFbFBQqwUqM49PTXQT_IEw4Hs7PUY9oshf-b76LG5YKvfs7SDwxOTs0qmF9VpmWkyAhs/s1600/iPhone+941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_onbZA6hQBhdOH_4ZR9LYpS1wfBI_dd-gQsHF0zITiGEOYHjsesfGHo8FwSf-g6TUp9a_0xgdFbFBQqwUqM49PTXQT_IEw4Hs7PUY9oshf-b76LG5YKvfs7SDwxOTs0qmF9VpmWkyAhs/s400/iPhone+941.jpg" width="152" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I had to buy a coat rack for my office. It's actually a "something on which to hang sweaty biking apparel" rack, but "coat rack" is simpler and sounds less... umm... descriptive. Even before the weather started cooling to require more and more layers, draping damp gear over every available surface made my work area look even more appalling than usual.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> This morning I wore every item you see to the left (except Austin Powers and the printer), and some that are lost in the forest of layers. At departure time, it was 32 degrees with a mid-20s windchill. But—hallelujah and pass the biscuits!—there was no wind. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There was sun. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There were </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggd_ukBtk8FwvQgMYqol5COlCQvQaZ8TJQWbyVoTjypxFg0CZCe3zYCnZyTjmi-f10b9O_LCSr9Mrite8W5F_fr2wWgvxcEkOIP1jY8FBnhtz2YqCyuWlPVBUVYEAe7nX4-G0Y-0czwqM/s1600/iPhone+918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggd_ukBtk8FwvQgMYqol5COlCQvQaZ8TJQWbyVoTjypxFg0CZCe3zYCnZyTjmi-f10b9O_LCSr9Mrite8W5F_fr2wWgvxcEkOIP1jY8FBnhtz2YqCyuWlPVBUVYEAe7nX4-G0Y-0czwqM/s320/iPhone+918.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">plenty of blue</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> skies</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> to go </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">around for </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">everyone. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It was divine.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I've made mention in various posts that riding a bike with the proper gear for safety and comfort is not for the vain. However, if ever there were a time for the high-vanity crowd to give it a whirl, that would be now. </span></span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPqBrmgUYWLxLJ7scrJBqRkClwiYjQPwPL_uLbXFf_J54rNSPKYkEj1KhEvS95Heuw6itvAAl6XkeylUzxnn-wCP6DOcDecaQAWVeEXFFIzvXctZS2iSoyt_UFvHul9YBv0eRrikkrKo/s1600/iPhone+939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPqBrmgUYWLxLJ7scrJBqRkClwiYjQPwPL_uLbXFf_J54rNSPKYkEj1KhEvS95Heuw6itvAAl6XkeylUzxnn-wCP6DOcDecaQAWVeEXFFIzvXctZS2iSoyt_UFvHul9YBv0eRrikkrKo/s320/iPhone+939.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Although you will look worse than geeky-horrible-ugly, you will also be unidentifiable. You can wear stripes and plaid without fear of recognition by the fashion police. Today's temperature brought on a few more layers, including the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balaclava_(clothing)">balaclava</a>. I wore my safety goggles, designed for industrial chemical splashes, but also excellent for biking in the rain and at night. My sunglasses fogged over the minute I stepped outside into the cold, but the goggles worked great. And my <a href="http://www.realcyclist.com/pearl-izumi-barrier-lobster-glove">lobster gloves</a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">—ah,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> blessed lobster gloves—kept my fingers toasty warm for the entire ride.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I know you won't feel quite complete without the usual Friday mantra, so here goes: <i>My legs were tired.</i> Oh well. Who cares? It was a great ride.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I rode home was with the same windless, cloudless conditions of this morning, except for an additional 20 degrees. It was the perfect end to a biking week. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDLSqlD4ahcExqGYNX3t3_vNeWw1wjT-1Jxkb-_v3418VzBeVCA5VXW9l5wWIY_y28O1A3lCMS-8K5sF7BO3146qH9WssP-pRi-3eTkRTmbugrzAK7bvIqtx9i0sVEP-jUiypGlJL9b0/s1600/iPhone+914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDLSqlD4ahcExqGYNX3t3_vNeWw1wjT-1Jxkb-_v3418VzBeVCA5VXW9l5wWIY_y28O1A3lCMS-8K5sF7BO3146qH9WssP-pRi-3eTkRTmbugrzAK7bvIqtx9i0sVEP-jUiypGlJL9b0/s320/iPhone+914.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> As someone who loves dark, gnarly, chewy beer, MHL is not exactly the official beer of me. But this billboard, with its "Get ready for weekend!" feel, is on my route; and it always makes me smile. Also, the guy pictured looks like my friend Dave Erickson—made famous in S4S for originating the "I'll double my donation on the days you bike in the rain" pledge. I emailed Dave to ask about the resemblance, and he replied, "It’s not me. The only camo clothing I’ve ever worn is a Santa hat." Thank you, Dave, and all of you on the S4S Team who make me smile every day. Happy weekend!</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"></span></span></div>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-28212975742651186622011-10-20T21:14:00.020-05:002011-10-20T22:00:07.777-05:00Day 35: A pelican and a beaver walk into a bar...<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 35 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 931.7</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>A great wind is blowing, and that gives you either imagination or a headache.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Catherine the Great</span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzu_UBE6IowajMGS-89eZvpZFHrEqKsi58GVLwQtFTJwGH24F2Q5k1EeoMAtZLxwsjrT8mKUG1njsHsThyphenhyphenqFX3XcWVURu4docjcbSY3SjNdH5v7BcJy1gXNp6FWmFgSDzfudBtU_u9Hys/s1600/iPhone+905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzu_UBE6IowajMGS-89eZvpZFHrEqKsi58GVLwQtFTJwGH24F2Q5k1EeoMAtZLxwsjrT8mKUG1njsHsThyphenhyphenqFX3XcWVURu4docjcbSY3SjNdH5v7BcJy1gXNp6FWmFgSDzfudBtU_u9Hys/s320/iPhone+905.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As Silver Beauty and I departed this morning, we enjoyed all the benefits of: 43 degrees. Windchill 35 degrees. Winds 17 mph gusting to 35. In yesterday's <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-34-on-wisconsin.html">post</a>, I described the weather as <i>not</i> user friendly, further embellished with such adjectives as "</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">gray, windy, bone-chilling". </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Today's </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">forecast</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> made me long to picnic in those idyllic conditions. I not so much rode as wrestled my way into that antagonistic, ice-bitch of a wind, yet with enormous gratitude that the earlier forecast of rain was not part of this scenario.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKFSXhjGVVETE_0OXGQSHj6G710EJ3sTRs1arYhThDA-_pjz3_7TKxq9zUCF81h562BVcfQ_zXSV8dxh3lnIK4apH6wlSRjMz3gqBJvHD6HFj1dlO9PCWMOJyOUt94UjEKxKPOf-ttW4/s1600/iPhone+917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKFSXhjGVVETE_0OXGQSHj6G710EJ3sTRs1arYhThDA-_pjz3_7TKxq9zUCF81h562BVcfQ_zXSV8dxh3lnIK4apH6wlSRjMz3gqBJvHD6HFj1dlO9PCWMOJyOUt94UjEKxKPOf-ttW4/s200/iPhone+917.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Even with the benefit of wearing stretchy "Magic gloves" yesterday, my fingers were numb, red Popsicles by the time I got to work. Today my Castelli neoprene gloves saw active duty. My hands still got cold, but not <i>as </i>cold, and not as early in the ride. But enough about the elements and the gear for staving off the elements. Check out what's new at Dane County Humane Society (DCHS).<br />
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Yesterday I received an update on the DCHS Four Lakes Wildlife Center (FLWC). If DCHS were "just" about saving dogs and cats, I would still consider it great work. They are indeed doing that, but their scope includes so much more. Two previous S4S posts detailed how DCHS is helping victims of domestic abuse through their <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/09/day-9-saving-our-sisters.html">SAAV program</a> and facilitating transformation in both prison inmates and the dogs they train through the <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/09/day-9-saving-our-sisters.html">Second Chances program</a>. As if that were not quite enough, they also rehabilitate injured wildlife through FLWC.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZORKzQqJY6SD2jIRSVxy4vr8bS3sZmHqlEpYO8YQXtJ1erVl407tfn7zfWZ8JcHfi8tX1XgHoIRm7hRcyMqykItBf-GOENixMaB0ajHhAXH39CPtAVv-b71XM2fpQ0MTSLn160OyCwkA/s1600/Pelican.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZORKzQqJY6SD2jIRSVxy4vr8bS3sZmHqlEpYO8YQXtJ1erVl407tfn7zfWZ8JcHfi8tX1XgHoIRm7hRcyMqykItBf-GOENixMaB0ajHhAXH39CPtAVv-b71XM2fpQ0MTSLn160OyCwkA/s320/Pelican.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"A juvenile pelican was abandoned by her flock in northern Wisconsin. [Who knew we even <i>had</i> pelicans in Wisconsin? lz] She has an eye injury and will need to be monitored by FLWC for at least a month while her future placement is arranged. DCHS is hopeful to find transport to a warmer climate or to another wildlife rehabilitation center that is better equipped to care for her over the harsh winter months. The pelican eats approximately three pounds of fish daily, costing DCHS $50 a day." [Dear Lord, we could <i>all</i> eat at Lilliana's complete with wine for a week's worth of pelican fare.]</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGGhpzvdlp2ROz0zw-IK9kiknTrB9WTc02I5aOOhHDWVS9irt79vpp6mO4pDShZoj0CkTjx1dV9Rz6y09BUdgyNIvhY0PuQNw0jhS0H08S8TBE8OucBQaupSl81EChefG9fsqifCXCJM/s1600/beaver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGGhpzvdlp2ROz0zw-IK9kiknTrB9WTc02I5aOOhHDWVS9irt79vpp6mO4pDShZoj0CkTjx1dV9Rz6y09BUdgyNIvhY0PuQNw0jhS0H08S8TBE8OucBQaupSl81EChefG9fsqifCXCJM/s320/beaver.jpg" width="320" /></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"An adult beaver was found by the Yahara River with a laceration on his side. Exceptional Care for Animals was able to repair the wound, and FLWC is now monitoring his recovery. Once stable, the beaver will need to be transferred to a facility [for further recovery]."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">These are more examples that whatever comes through the doors of DCHS is taken in and cared for. Let me say yet again, thank you for being instrumental in the success of DCHS with your pledge to S4S. You can see all the good that you are doing in so many ways with your support.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib06qmD1mgbk-qH0EOA7v94y7E7QiBuXbkYLbyVsHRCIWF5cAjXF1ceknrJTvI7yI3v_0Pr5ZgpGpQG2MX3tzmUXf3LIhuHLULM7o_BBDbQG_P9sbUgdat6S62_CtNGWACSkc0kIrqW2M/s1600/IMG_1574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib06qmD1mgbk-qH0EOA7v94y7E7QiBuXbkYLbyVsHRCIWF5cAjXF1ceknrJTvI7yI3v_0Pr5ZgpGpQG2MX3tzmUXf3LIhuHLULM7o_BBDbQG_P9sbUgdat6S62_CtNGWACSkc0kIrqW2M/s320/IMG_1574.JPG" width="320" /></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> The ride home had some sun and more blue skies than gray to accompany the tailwind—nice companions to have on a bike ride. When I got home, my lifetime companion was back from his business trip,making it a truly happy Thursday!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-19585025225210451662011-10-19T23:00:00.012-05:002011-10-19T23:19:23.145-05:00Day 34: On Wisconsin<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 34 miles to/from work: 29.3</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 904.9</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I don't think Wisconsin should become known as a state where we shoot cats. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Former Wisconsin Governor Jim Doyle</span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZvyoQgjV6Yp-qQxLuE1LvGBnKcdMGbSjiqiz1qARqz5WlqkR1TcAyoE2ZtQPujlXST4-EdM9U1MkcI8-hWGqKMNL4jBPljsCrEpN_hlJoJ49LEdZ91OxycGbrWUfbXy1hmSiOWrXt4k/s1600/IMG_1539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZvyoQgjV6Yp-qQxLuE1LvGBnKcdMGbSjiqiz1qARqz5WlqkR1TcAyoE2ZtQPujlXST4-EdM9U1MkcI8-hWGqKMNL4jBPljsCrEpN_hlJoJ49LEdZ91OxycGbrWUfbXy1hmSiOWrXt4k/s320/IMG_1539.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i style="font-size: large;">User friendly</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">: what this morning was not.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> It wasn't a bad morning by any means. Although short on sleep—now the standard—I felt good. Getting ready for work went smoothly, Jazz and Oreo seemed marginally grateful to be fed (okay, not even a little, but at least they didn't act pissy), and all was well with the world.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">However, the great outdoors presented a gray, windy, bone-chilling day determined to emanate hostility. Rather than focus on the hypothermia and frost bite (my fingers went numb even with gloves, but </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">honestly, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">the ride wasn't that bad), I want to put the lens on Wisconsin and how I fell in love with my adopted and adoptive state.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreWZqZA-FNL7xJ0FQdgzsWYP6ZXEwW8IDucJFwr7Xu0CtfPNtg7ZSY2klxzjqwE96wDRT7_q9x8f0u9KnEaoYtCWJUrgw6w_r-qAtnckcFYl86Ie2LMGkzwL9PaAVe0CYYKtJo9QqaOU/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreWZqZA-FNL7xJ0FQdgzsWYP6ZXEwW8IDucJFwr7Xu0CtfPNtg7ZSY2klxzjqwE96wDRT7_q9x8f0u9KnEaoYtCWJUrgw6w_r-qAtnckcFYl86Ie2LMGkzwL9PaAVe0CYYKtJo9QqaOU/s320/IMG_1546.JPG" width="320" /></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If you live here, you're already livin' The Dream, and 'nuf said. If you're not a homey, I hope my pictures with every blog post have given you some idea of what a beautiful, diverse state this is—even though you've only seen one teeny 13-1/2 mile sampling of it. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In April 2002 I was preparing to move from Sacramento, California to Austin, Texas. "Uh, hello? Austin, Texas isn't exactly where you wound up." For a blonde with a bad sense of direction, landing in Madison was an easy mistake to make: state capital, university town, humid summer. (January demonstrated that the winters are the distinguishing characteristic between Austin and Madison.) </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Before embarking on the intended move to Texas, I had sold my house and wrapped up my job in Sacramento. Free time and open road beckoned for me to take the big honkin' road trip of my dreams. For three months I drove all over the USofA and put 15,000 miles on my car. I came through Madison and spent five magical days, during which my feelings for this city and this state were like falling in love with a person. I could no longer imagine living anywhere else. Within six weeks I had a job and owned a house here. I later learned that both my grandmothers were born in Wisconsin, so probably some primal drumbeat was thrumming through my reptilian ganglion and brought me back. (Fade with Twilight Zone theme....)</span></span><br />
</span><br />
<div style="float: left; margin: 0 10px 5px 0;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="63" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XVSRm80WzZk" width="84"></iframe></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As much as I loved my life in Madison, those first few years I often lamented, "if only I could find a man I love as much as I love this city". In 2006 I met Scott. So my life here now is about two great loves.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> And one bicycle. Silver Beauty taxied me on a couple after-work errands and then home through a still somewhat unkind and cold wind. But I was bundled up in cozy layers, ear warmers were in place, and—of course—my bright night train light led the way. Happy to be home. Happy that home is in this place that I love.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kQFVbGXsUgM" width="420"></iframe></span></span></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-69190352713468628852011-10-18T23:59:00.003-05:002011-10-20T10:19:39.303-05:00Day 33: Safe on second<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 33 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 875.6</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Saving the life of one animal may not change the world, but the world will surely change for that one animal.</i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUhtb_doD1qsrcFkAMsZQyCw5t1jH6kE3bvriJK6vKsa-e9s1CIgzWtkcdhyphenhyphenT6KCSScxNEVunz1Ky3FiD01vsDrF7asmR1JErj7GsoRlBq2ZeoTrS6f8Ze14sZydryy9Ji-sCQhPjqjk/s1600/IMG_1518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUhtb_doD1qsrcFkAMsZQyCw5t1jH6kE3bvriJK6vKsa-e9s1CIgzWtkcdhyphenhyphenT6KCSScxNEVunz1Ky3FiD01vsDrF7asmR1JErj7GsoRlBq2ZeoTrS6f8Ze14sZydryy9Ji-sCQhPjqjk/s320/IMG_1518.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This is how my morning started—a gorgeous sunrise over the lake and cleaning the kitty litter box. I have spared you pictorial evidence of the latter. When Silver Beauty and I set out, it was 37 degrees and mostly clear skies.<br />
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For those of you who are regular readers here, you know that every Tuesday is "Last-chance Tuesday", when some of my Texas friends and I are wildly networking the Carrollton, Texas shelter </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">animals </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">that haven't been adopted or tagged by a rescue and face Wednesday morning euthanasia. This morning at 12:30 am, I was emailing a rescue (Casa de Perro or CDP) about Miss Piggy, a pitbull in need of rescuing. And she was heartworm-positive. And had kennel cough. (Just how sweet a deal is <i>that,</i> huh?) She also had $200 in pledges from networkers, plus a sponsor who said she would cover the heartworm treatment. Miss Piggy had her fan club. The fact that she was a dog was good enough for me; and with a name like Miss Piggy ("Never eat anything heavier than you can lift"), in my book that was a mandate to save her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FwSpszi6CCjChqtcMIhMgkTb8CVanILgZWkHrUwUqodIxRlCLyQFlpBeWYrvT8hEVOFNFnkI9IOw4MfofjrOj2bzo3Je0bA7VPOPX1KVeLX6Z86eC9udXuD48CqzlZTSkZoX3lVEUi0/s1600/300090_10150328052767120_283616192119_8584621_1562701908_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FwSpszi6CCjChqtcMIhMgkTb8CVanILgZWkHrUwUqodIxRlCLyQFlpBeWYrvT8hEVOFNFnkI9IOw4MfofjrOj2bzo3Je0bA7VPOPX1KVeLX6Z86eC9udXuD48CqzlZTSkZoX3lVEUi0/s320/300090_10150328052767120_283616192119_8584621_1562701908_n.jpg" width="240" /></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> When I got up even before the sunrise and checked my email, there was no response to determine the Divine Miss P's future. I texted my buddies about the lack of rescue response with, "So what's wrong with this guy? He's not up after 12:30 and before 6?"<br />
<br />
Silver Beauty and I were sailing along when my cell phone rang. I pulled off the path onto the edge of a field. It was Mike from CDP, saying he would take Miss Piggy as long as the person sponsoring the heartworm treatment would let him use his own veterinarian. In addition, he would take Knight, a black lab and also a Carrollton inmate. Woot! Double score! I called Joe at Carrollton animal shelter to let him know, then called my friend Leticia so she could get the heartworm sponsor in touch with Mike. Then I just laughed. I was on my way to work, standing off the bike path in a field in Wisconsin, shivering in 37 degree temps, spending 20 minutes talking to people in Texas I've never met about a dog I've never seen except in pictures.... I was thinking "This is both so funny and so cool! And we're saving lives!" All in all, a fantastic start to Last-Chance Tuesday.<br />
<br />
It was a ride with a cold headwind, and I didn't care. Miss Piggy was safe. Knight got into the bonus round. Life is good. Life is life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeDtaVcD7VdeuNw_3kvr-mkEWPAHrXM31VlQ23ZmeRKTxviUhBQCvPPqTB72VFRcNMa7Cx__4hXJ8q_IEjT2ixwLbl5UwbPFjEWyQLWRAsab6wsxrO3MgrkX1tag8S8y8BEOTLYMrvcg/s1600/IMG_1532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeDtaVcD7VdeuNw_3kvr-mkEWPAHrXM31VlQ23ZmeRKTxviUhBQCvPPqTB72VFRcNMa7Cx__4hXJ8q_IEjT2ixwLbl5UwbPFjEWyQLWRAsab6wsxrO3MgrkX1tag8S8y8BEOTLYMrvcg/s320/IMG_1532.JPG" width="320" /></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> There is something about 50 degrees at the end of October that does not equal 50 degrees in early October. When I left work the temperature was in the mid-50s. It didn't matter. It was cold and raw. The harbinger of winter. But winter with a tailwind. That made for a quick and reasonably pleasant ride home, despite the rawness.<br />
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The rest of the evening was entirely predictable—I got sucked into the rescue operation. And it was a success. Five cats and one more dog, tagged by rescues. Once again, Wednesday morning the Carrollton Animal Services executioner will be sharing office space with the Maytag repairman.<br />
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Winning!</span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-80133707422201602892011-10-17T23:59:00.004-05:002011-10-18T07:07:48.055-05:00Day 32: Bright Night Train<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 32 miles to/from work: 28.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 848.8</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>She's a bright night train layin' brand new track.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">~ Paul Cebar</span></i></span><br />
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<div style="float: left; margin: 0 10px 5px 0;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="210" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/D-JhBvAgwJE" width="374"></iframe></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You need background music for this post, so please, indulge me. Click the arrow on the video to the left and enjoy one of my favorite musical artists, Paul Cebar, as you read.<br />
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I mentioned in an earlier post that I got a 1000-lumen light for Silver Beauty last week and just charged and installed it this past weekend. The bike "headlight" I had been using was 300 lumens. If you have been driving your car at night while having someone run in front of you with a birthday candle to light the way, you have some idea of the challenge I faced on those evenings I came home in the dark. Although Silver Beauty and I left for work this morning in the light of a dazzling sun, I was almost giddy at what awaited me on the return trip.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejN0i7P6sffl6scYr99E2rUJ08Hu0-6jz235zgjIS6McmaB9HrpIf4qjJ0rsur95QLRLOPuJgyruURdIYZN5ctZrXEeQue50nPyC5IgrLp4gHlboLfeCBSYQh2iV_LG-Bj68CPBGdAQA/s1600/IMG_0775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejN0i7P6sffl6scYr99E2rUJ08Hu0-6jz235zgjIS6McmaB9HrpIf4qjJ0rsur95QLRLOPuJgyruURdIYZN5ctZrXEeQue50nPyC5IgrLp4gHlboLfeCBSYQh2iV_LG-Bj68CPBGdAQA/s320/IMG_0775.JPG" width="320" /></a>My legs were far better than Friday, but not fully fresh. Saturday Scott had mercilessly prodded me on a ride (17-mile round-trip) in gale force winds with promises of good beer and great company. Not like <i>that</i> took a lot of lashes with the bull whip. First we biked to a bar (but not a biker bar) near campus and watched the Badgers going all Hannibal Lechter on Indiana's ass. Then we rode to our friends', the Wiesners', house for their annual Homecoming party. It was awesome, with all the fun, interesting people (including the host and hostess) and excellent beer anticipated.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcbsOttw96e_41m-Ly08A2dwq_CMp7rJ_i2yjomf5AnLiRJxrChSnqPgQ7M2OJRHtqvVp0xdw7V3zCmydgfnCnG2B8_KS_D_J5FJ6nbjYlFY4KYZbpA18js-aoxfP45XyURZAMv-US1w/s1600/IMG_1506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcbsOttw96e_41m-Ly08A2dwq_CMp7rJ_i2yjomf5AnLiRJxrChSnqPgQ7M2OJRHtqvVp0xdw7V3zCmydgfnCnG2B8_KS_D_J5FJ6nbjYlFY4KYZbpA18js-aoxfP45XyURZAMv-US1w/s320/IMG_1506.jpg" width="239" /></a>Sunday I did nothing more active than what was required to haul my body out of bed and get it to places that provided food and drink.<br />
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The ride in this morning was a chilly 40 degrees, but I was dressed for it. The tiny bit of headwind was docile compared to the gale force wickedness of Friday and Saturday. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and riding a bike once again felt like a child's gift rather than a grown-up duty. The going was a little slower than the norm, but completely enjoyable.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL66IzzDPh4j7A2zin5nDS4TiAQl6XaIdvljhnqqjVI9Lt6KOwy4nMibViWBCatTF3r-RNM-Dfr6i-0rP0UNtYWGIh5PhYYr8w5TvYZb2VzBcMbOr_XMx4XhqkSgwLrz74Berw-ANzDX4/s1600/IMG_1502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL66IzzDPh4j7A2zin5nDS4TiAQl6XaIdvljhnqqjVI9Lt6KOwy4nMibViWBCatTF3r-RNM-Dfr6i-0rP0UNtYWGIh5PhYYr8w5TvYZb2VzBcMbOr_XMx4XhqkSgwLrz74Berw-ANzDX4/s320/IMG_1502.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then... at last, time to ride home for the big spotlight show. At 5:30 the sun was starting to dip and the sky darken. I had to go by Walgreen's, so that gave twilight more opportunity to set in. Way before I took a little detour by Machinery Row bikes, my new light was flaring in full force. Oh, the glory! No Hollywood klieg light has ever shown with such radiance. I offer my abject apologies to oncoming cyclists and runners who were struck blind and fell to the side of the path. I am not certain, but I think I saw three shepherds approaching, shielding their eyes and shrinking back as Silver Beauty and I blasted past.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_u1F9pu8OV81ra6U81UPKtPzmjaUMYgAMwg9-C4_0X7ClwZAB8LhM_F8ZmRr10xtCPhfRdXql-zLEEksV5TZQalA_hNVx93AQ2azOz5-eIVDIb_3Q7e0I-tglqGj9N3Eb2Q9oCqdXgcs/s1600/IMG_1511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_u1F9pu8OV81ra6U81UPKtPzmjaUMYgAMwg9-C4_0X7ClwZAB8LhM_F8ZmRr10xtCPhfRdXql-zLEEksV5TZQalA_hNVx93AQ2azOz5-eIVDIb_3Q7e0I-tglqGj9N3Eb2Q9oCqdXgcs/s320/IMG_1511.JPG" width="239" /></a>Now I know how locomotives and their conductors feel cutting through the black of the night in a luminous blaze. Ethereal. Liberated. On fire. I am eternally grateful for the great good fortune to even once experience being a bright night train. (Well, for great good fortune and free shipping from Amazon.com. They're not always easy to distinguish from one another.) I'm fired up at the very thought that I might very well experience that luminescence again tomorrow.</span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-87165349252527891572011-10-14T21:55:00.007-05:002011-10-14T22:06:19.944-05:00Day 31: Friday'tude<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 31 miles to/from work: 26.6</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 820.0</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You never have the wind with you—either it is against you or you're having a good day.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> ~ Daniel Behrman, The Man Who Loved Bicycles </span></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNnFax7JM_VRq_70tz9uQ0bOx3yo7q0ifR_bQzPL0AV2Aw3p7CzZQq9-VlSZw0LiUo9-MuU-3zU5S7yF___o1sJknvFXaWxwcn0dXoqS9l3G8sxjqaD7TY9z8jXK8pD3x4cxCtfytGnk/s1600/IMG_1478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNnFax7JM_VRq_70tz9uQ0bOx3yo7q0ifR_bQzPL0AV2Aw3p7CzZQq9-VlSZw0LiUo9-MuU-3zU5S7yF___o1sJknvFXaWxwcn0dXoqS9l3G8sxjqaD7TY9z8jXK8pD3x4cxCtfytGnk/s320/IMG_1478.jpg" width="239" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It's Friday, and you know what <i>that</i> means! "Would you like cheese with that whine?" You have the formula down by now and could probably write this yourself, but let me give you the Reader's Digest condensed version first. "I'm tired. The ride was hard. Whaaa. Whaaa. Whaaa."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Okay, here's the novella-length version. I did not want to get out of bed this morning—even less than I want to get out of bed on any weekday morning. Falling lower on the chart of things I found desirable this morning was getting on Silver Beauty to ride. When I proposed S4S, I said I would do it—I didn't promise to always like it.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZH8tw_gYSZVaYisbpYmZb9_5wurxtQXIMwqGYPJG9EkYpWfa42WnzdLCV6AvrGigA59a02K9hP6UBHrWOi78aXyC6F5LLuGAAGqrQeAPvrN9fZ9WzNvb6FucawdBr-PT_xg2Vi26Gew/s1600/IMG_1482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZH8tw_gYSZVaYisbpYmZb9_5wurxtQXIMwqGYPJG9EkYpWfa42WnzdLCV6AvrGigA59a02K9hP6UBHrWOi78aXyC6F5LLuGAAGqrQeAPvrN9fZ9WzNvb6FucawdBr-PT_xg2Vi26Gew/s320/IMG_1482.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The temperatures were back down to the 40s, and the north wind came with a sharp bite. This was compounded by the fact that it was a head wind, creating a literal and figurative uphill battle for the entire ride. Of the 62 rides I've done since September 1, on the scale of best to worst, this one would definitely rate as #62.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The good news: the sun was shining. I am healthy and </span><i style="font-size: large;">can</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> ride. Even feeling like Grinch on a Bike, I felt grateful for the gift of freedom of movement.</span><br />
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</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTAvvfvW-cnoGfRVsZXJs7vbMVMIt8wI2mcjO8PcOAbN5DzvQy4u9iIIq4SCSVg0xDT0hwPZzRy9b-bTeo_6mi47D5fzm2OrFjPd44GQuTsVxA17cIA1NdrOZQJEh3kCDxnZZrYTQlI4/s1600/IMG_1486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTAvvfvW-cnoGfRVsZXJs7vbMVMIt8wI2mcjO8PcOAbN5DzvQy4u9iIIq4SCSVg0xDT0hwPZzRy9b-bTeo_6mi47D5fzm2OrFjPd44GQuTsVxA17cIA1NdrOZQJEh3kCDxnZZrYTQlI4/s320/IMG_1486.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> The ride home was the polar opposite of this morning's foray. That north wind, blessedly, had not changed direction; so between the downhill grade and a tailwind, filing a flight plan might have been in order. It was great! Knowing we had reservations at Christy's Landing for a fish fry made it all the sweeter. Let the weekend begin! <i>Laissez les bons temps rouler.</i></span></span></div>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-68436692074281195762011-10-13T23:59:00.011-05:002011-10-14T09:56:30.825-05:00Day 30: Composting gas money into gear<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 30 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 793.4</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1kkaPl6CSqHsUU-kAEU6ygTuzWG1up2HFPAuvpRdb1hy_ic7RShE98UpngBdXqyaOII1qledqbp_SqScwtNQRSVOGUzUYy91L9UdHcY68nssWQ2z4pd4r4PWK1-Vl1wYo4WowdoTMXA/s1600/iPhone+884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1kkaPl6CSqHsUU-kAEU6ygTuzWG1up2HFPAuvpRdb1hy_ic7RShE98UpngBdXqyaOII1qledqbp_SqScwtNQRSVOGUzUYy91L9UdHcY68nssWQ2z4pd4r4PWK1-Vl1wYo4WowdoTMXA/s320/iPhone+884.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">According to Weather.com, the rain was supposed to stop by 7:00 am. By 7:30 it was still going strong. When Silver Beauty and I set out, we were fully geared up—I with my rain jacket, rain pants, and industrial goggles; Silver Beauty with her seat encased in a plastic grocery bag. Within two miles I was roasting, and the rain had mostly subsided. I pulled off to the side of the bike path, took off my helmet, removed the goggles, stripped off the rain jacket, took off each shoe followed by the corresponding pant leg one at a time, and stuffed everything into a pannier, then replaced the helmet—all while balancing SB. I wondered what this looked like from the office building I was facing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WXt7d_BI3xSx5-rc-J_lbozuByLGOhap6xXm0POrC7rcokcVdFA9NwI39wdGAsnBxbbXrHKKPqCDSchgqpi6Y4eqdOoZ5XTTNR5eu6B24OHlhvu4y8U3SoKsCqmfFQUE-shacX54Hsc/s1600/IMG_1458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WXt7d_BI3xSx5-rc-J_lbozuByLGOhap6xXm0POrC7rcokcVdFA9NwI39wdGAsnBxbbXrHKKPqCDSchgqpi6Y4eqdOoZ5XTTNR5eu6B24OHlhvu4y8U3SoKsCqmfFQUE-shacX54Hsc/s320/IMG_1458.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> This project has been meaningful in so many ways, but it has also fueled my addiction to "gear", as well as the need for serviceable tools. Since I started S4S, I got a great rain jacket $150. Rain pants $110. A 1000-lumen light that will cut a swath like a night train $90. And $130 for new panniers when my old ones finally disintegrated.... It is not cheap saving money on gas. Perhaps it sounds like I'm complaining, but the opportunity and "need" to get mo' bettah, cooler, efficient gear: priceless!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8KIA1p9hlxo9JORQ_5HuGpi4fpIOL2S-leqbT5VM2-gUVfBzN2buHnJ7JejInOg0Se6tyhn3S5AG881noZ_bd-5u8_veF9MxbFNnB8waEMRDHvMoy2TH9DUt9ozSxYlTO-jChH17-4I/s1600/IMG_1470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8KIA1p9hlxo9JORQ_5HuGpi4fpIOL2S-leqbT5VM2-gUVfBzN2buHnJ7JejInOg0Se6tyhn3S5AG881noZ_bd-5u8_veF9MxbFNnB8waEMRDHvMoy2TH9DUt9ozSxYlTO-jChH17-4I/s320/IMG_1470.JPG" width="320" /></a> I was happy to leave the office in the light of 5:30 instead of the dark of 6:00 and rain—the sun was shining, wind blowing, and temperatures had dropped. It was chillier than I had expected, but a bright ride home. No dark. No rain. Just easy ridin'...and home.</span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-71175539752193111262011-10-12T23:59:00.007-05:002011-10-13T01:49:47.511-05:00Day 29: Do the Inuits have 38 words for "wet"?<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 29 miles to/from work: 27.3</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 766.6</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5PdECWytDiRzKEhfmy_LhZEBTVwGwQENeDcD6csTtqHZYBoCS3R8wxyLK6k7ckVscw9BKdqEN6FTsmRezpKBafj922g4p_REV2l0RA8h2qO8mwsHBIU1Y6WcycZygizznqlIPXlyBPo/s1600/IMG_1438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5PdECWytDiRzKEhfmy_LhZEBTVwGwQENeDcD6csTtqHZYBoCS3R8wxyLK6k7ckVscw9BKdqEN6FTsmRezpKBafj922g4p_REV2l0RA8h2qO8mwsHBIU1Y6WcycZygizznqlIPXlyBPo/s320/IMG_1438.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've never heard a meteorologist give a forecast for "dank". "Cloudy with a 50% chance of dank." "Highs in the 60s with increasing dankness." Dank was not in the forecast; but when Silver Beauty and I set out this morning, that is decidedly what it was. Rain from last night and early this morning left every outdoor surface reflecting a dull wetness, the air felt as leaden as the overcast sky, and fallen leaves lay dispiritedly plastered to the asphalt. Dank.<br />
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The ride ahead held a damply depressing outlook, and I harbored dim hope for evading the threat of serious mildew action. Without much enthusiasm, I climbed on Silver Beauty and started pedaling.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56KniG-Tm7eHF4B2mnRTeGtgFGKH0vBiVONTUtVIjBkwuCHQvbI03MskTesNlobeu3U3FhBCaRFjXpwlrzpe6aZ6eo-tBAWpdoHLsE0-CH4YKWqGOqmHvE9xqji85nhTFt9LuSepvFK4/s1600/IMG_1443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56KniG-Tm7eHF4B2mnRTeGtgFGKH0vBiVONTUtVIjBkwuCHQvbI03MskTesNlobeu3U3FhBCaRFjXpwlrzpe6aZ6eo-tBAWpdoHLsE0-CH4YKWqGOqmHvE9xqji85nhTFt9LuSepvFK4/s320/IMG_1443.JPG" width="239" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Rote muscle memory pushed me through gray-toned landscape. Then a couple miles in, I realized that the temperature was politely non-intrusive. The breeze was soft and accommodating. A little sunshine would have been nice, but otherwise it was just damned pleasant. Midway to the office, I shed sleeves to bare arms (not to be confused with "to bear arms"—no munitions were involved). By the time I got to work, even El Sol had made an appearance.<br />
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From my office I watched the day follow an arc of progressive vivacious brilliance, then sullenly descend from its apex to dark skies and rainfall. Yuk. It was after 6:00 when I left the office, happy for my rain jacket and waterproof panniers; not so much for the rain. In another <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/09/day-17-it-was-dark-and-stormy-day.html">post</a> I related the utterly failed experiment of using swim goggles as rain eyewear. Soon after, I ordered some clear, "splash-proof" safety goggles, advertised to be vented to avoid fogging. If they were good enough to protect one from the splashing of industrial chemicals, my theory was that they would do just fine in the rain. And they did.<br />
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In fact, I did just fine in the rain as well. After the initial resistance to the whole idea, I embraced the thought that it was just rain. Not cold. Not blowing. Certainly not dangerous. Just rain. That shoe-sloshing thing just leant an added dimension to the event. And wasn't I the intrepid adventuress to be biking in it? </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhBdeDd4miVtIOjH4NFz5uDUFJZT4KrbLiDiwTs3IMGvdI6VZ-Z2itftWq3-6r1dUbY40_CXxglq99rzABxVTQzsOuBPaNrwVPmBcKsogRm9BvqlacuNKoc7CDJHbx7KrpQAfdAx4ubc/s1600/IMG_1449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhBdeDd4miVtIOjH4NFz5uDUFJZT4KrbLiDiwTs3IMGvdI6VZ-Z2itftWq3-6r1dUbY40_CXxglq99rzABxVTQzsOuBPaNrwVPmBcKsogRm9BvqlacuNKoc7CDJHbx7KrpQAfdAx4ubc/s320/IMG_1449.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Riding in the rain <i>and</i> dark, even with bike lights, was not such an easy self-sell. I went slowly and was very careful, while feeling grateful that a deer did not jump across my path as occurred last night.<br />
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When I got home, I eagerly sought the final immersion therapy of the day. Dorothy was right that there is no place like home—and after getting both sodden and grubby on a rainy ride, that haven was made even better with the comfort of a hot bath.</span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-2397403594378855492011-10-10T23:59:00.010-05:002011-10-11T13:16:06.279-05:00Day 27: First day with the old bike<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 27 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 712.5</b><br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRSHvll4Kh1fu8jtlhnn2ueE2wicJLd3OKSf87LDPLuvDkuj2nXyOejwv9f0l-TEde_QdFDxPF2ejAlYzZ4D9ft393qWFaS4QFkXYnMq0RugtuAUoatblkskBPRkuFULOsggf2oHKZYw/s1600/IMG_1388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRSHvll4Kh1fu8jtlhnn2ueE2wicJLd3OKSf87LDPLuvDkuj2nXyOejwv9f0l-TEde_QdFDxPF2ejAlYzZ4D9ft393qWFaS4QFkXYnMq0RugtuAUoatblkskBPRkuFULOsggf2oHKZYw/s320/IMG_1388.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> This morning it was not just misty, it was foggy. Not fully, can't-see-squat foggy. But it definitely surpassed "misty". When Ironsides and I left this morning, it was 50 degrees, but the dampness made it feel 10 degrees cooler.<br />
<br />
As mentioned in <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-26-come-to-dark-side-we-have_07.html">Day 26, Friday's post</a> (yes, the one that was there for 40 hours until Blogspot capriciously and unceremoniously blew it into oblivion and which I had to re-construct), Silver Beauty is in the bike infirmary. Yesterday I took Ironsides, my old Cannondale, off the trainer; and Scott installed a rack to hold my panniers. I hunted and gathered old bike lights, which Scott also mounted. I aired up tires, and Ironsides was road ready.<br />
<br />
Let me tell you about this "senior bike". I bought him in San Mateo, California in 1990 when I lived in the San Francisco Bay area. Even though his name is Ironsides (with something similar to "Cannonball" inscribed on his tube, what would you expect?), he is made of aluminum, which makes him a fast lightweight. His sentimental value to me far outweighs anything even close to what he could command on the open market. Ultimately, he is an old friend; and I would never put him out on those ice floes for senior bikes known as eBay and Craig's List.<br />
<br />
As Ironsides and I set out in the mist/fog, he was so happy to be outside instead of on a trainer in the basement; and I was happy to have a bike to keep going with S4S. It felt good to be riding with my old friend again, but also alien and off-balance from my usual commute experience. Silver Beauty is a hybrid with gear shifts integrated on her upright handlebars, and with stable mid-sized tires. Ironsides is a road bike made for racing, with old-style analog gear shifts on the tube, skinny tires, and dropped handlebars that look like ram's horns. He was not designed to have 30 pounds of crap slung over his back tire.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTZvgBGa48rvMV3OxTR44iCLpBnXD0YXZBNY2qtUE6BTqfQtqffrYI-VD9TXJVOlFKav902DEY7CQwzKNuOSsb_pJ5pwFX3TpxK4yQ3bjpd5Kes8a5J3elfazP0X6l2R0i8auqgdDO-Y/s1600/IMG_1402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTZvgBGa48rvMV3OxTR44iCLpBnXD0YXZBNY2qtUE6BTqfQtqffrYI-VD9TXJVOlFKav902DEY7CQwzKNuOSsb_pJ5pwFX3TpxK4yQ3bjpd5Kes8a5J3elfazP0X6l2R0i8auqgdDO-Y/s320/IMG_1402.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> The immediate feeling was one of both instability and lightness. Those teeny tires were made more unstable with that 30 pounds of cargo on the back, giving a tippy sensation of teetering on the brink. There wasn't a moment of today's rides in which I didn't feel just a little terrified. But it also held true to a mantra of the securities industry: "The greater the risk, the higher the yield." Pedaling Ironsides was virtually effortless, and with just the smallest effort, I felt like I was flying. That thin ribbon of rubber, airlifted by 110 pounds per square inch, elevated me off the ground and into euphoria. With a hint of terror.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
As I was crossing Mineral Point Road, Ironsides froze and all motion stopped. I barely managed to keep from crashing to the ground. Was Ironsides now doing the same shenanigans as Silver Beauty? I pulled him off the road and onto the median, stripped off the panniers, and turned him upside down. Oh look. The rear wheel is completely out of its seating. When I took him off the trainer, I hadn't tightened the wheel into place. In the words and mental capacity of Homer Simpson: D'oh! I reseated the wheel, tightened the locks, and reassembled the commuter crap. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQB1v04NlE_krOkHxTZNBC-7CJM7PsKn0KEN_bXkV7HXwinujwR1h1FiuQdEuz4tVuCP3TXbotMuEgaqevRMT6cu8LhfSp9AX24PV3tT4GacyNXueq2oMyI7MhlmRtkPcG30dbISBb8Bk/s1600/IMG_1405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQB1v04NlE_krOkHxTZNBC-7CJM7PsKn0KEN_bXkV7HXwinujwR1h1FiuQdEuz4tVuCP3TXbotMuEgaqevRMT6cu8LhfSp9AX24PV3tT4GacyNXueq2oMyI7MhlmRtkPcG30dbISBb8Bk/s320/IMG_1405.JPG" width="320" /></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
The rest of the ride to work, and the ride home were without incident. Thank goodness! I picked up Silver Beauty at Machinery Row; and the three of us headed to home sweet home. Safe. Sound. Stable. And still savoring the memory of flying.</span></span></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-9059548040522108162011-10-07T23:59:00.036-05:002011-10-18T11:36:42.686-05:00Day 26: Come to the dark side. We have cookies.<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 26 miles to/from work: 24.4</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 685.7</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i> -Barbara Jordan</i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">When it comes to writing about the weather, Leo Tolstoy's observation of familial happiness comes to mind. "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." The same could be said for perfect October mornings versus weather that is utter hell to bike in. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Crappy conditions are not what I prefer, but they do offer opportunity for more diverse and nuanced description. Let it be said that this morning's conditions exhibited the qualities of some supermodels: beautiful and indistinguishable from the others.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUOVvjnvhz5n4Do3YyKz6q5Je0XcKDwYTHJ_RKhr2Uk9a42uWKXEvnoepiOdk-zKEL7v328ZzFuyeCBRf3vPnBNTJXzxs2uzCbxIUaHnq2N0iOYUL8P5FETjy43fxworvi4z3Hwzcv8c/s1600/IMG_1284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUOVvjnvhz5n4Do3YyKz6q5Je0XcKDwYTHJ_RKhr2Uk9a42uWKXEvnoepiOdk-zKEL7v328ZzFuyeCBRf3vPnBNTJXzxs2uzCbxIUaHnq2N0iOYUL8P5FETjy43fxworvi4z3Hwzcv8c/s320/IMG_1284.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My legs had that "Friday feeling"—tired, taut, tight—the sense of every muscle being constructed of thousands of rubber bands stretched to their limit. Cookies were what kept me pedaling and got me to work.<br />
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Several people have suggested that I must be losing a ton of weight doing all this biking. These are people who are obviously not looking directly at me. "Should be" losing a ton of weight, but "am not". This is a result of simple mathematics: I burn about 1500 calories more per day than normal. I eat about 2000 calories more per day than normal. One of the sources of these calories is my co-worker, Christine Finney (pictured below, and with my apologies for the blinding neon, which is intrinsic to my safety plan—if someone kills me it will because they meant to rather than because they didn't see me). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7k1B28Rx0PSt2m6PvOumvM7qBQWAbcMMuni7VZmsWUEuXSMivIo5Y_ls6RXnkZlQ5aR8uoInxeq18C_T3KCGghCvYoCZWrp6Ano_Nw80GIy6-46ecVf_sjyv4-nI8_tAeHdtTJD5vXDU/s1600/ChrisFinney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7k1B28Rx0PSt2m6PvOumvM7qBQWAbcMMuni7VZmsWUEuXSMivIo5Y_ls6RXnkZlQ5aR8uoInxeq18C_T3KCGghCvYoCZWrp6Ano_Nw80GIy6-46ecVf_sjyv4-nI8_tAeHdtTJD5vXDU/s320/ChrisFinney.jpg" width="256" /></a>Chris provides our convenient, in-office bakery and sells the most delectable goodies as an ongoing fundraiser for her granddaughter's school. Every Monday we can't wait to see what her three newest offerings will be; and as I'm spinning down the bike path, my pace is often propelled by which type of Chris cookie will be my reward. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out why I call her my "sugar mama". She is also a sweet person with a slightly wicked side that makes her a lot of fun.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This morning when I topped off the air in Silver Beauty's tires, the tube stem broke off. I held my breath waiting to see if SB held hers. No gasps of deflating tires, but it still made me uneasy. Even more troubling was when, later in the ride and not for the first time, I shifted gears and the chain froze—stuck between two sprockets. I averted catapulting into the pavement; but I won't tempt the cycling deities further. My homeward trip was shortened by a few miles, as I took Silver Beauty directly to Machinery Row Bicycles to seek whatever mechanic-ing she needs. She won't be ready until Monday evening, so it looks like I'll be pulling my old Cannondale out of mothballs for Monday's ride.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5hJJt81qCp6avrd5Yoru3fe0ts0Ha7oiZBmfa8I3awmHHP3_HIFKoRknDqGCUxLXq8zDeydFMw7r3t89CpbFOnPOklBLm9bg0vTWWV5aKHOU0P7e8ZjkkTgIZotTkROsa1ble8FQ5QQ/s1600/Come-To-The-Dark-Side-We-Have-Cookies_1921-l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5hJJt81qCp6avrd5Yoru3fe0ts0Ha7oiZBmfa8I3awmHHP3_HIFKoRknDqGCUxLXq8zDeydFMw7r3t89CpbFOnPOklBLm9bg0vTWWV5aKHOU0P7e8ZjkkTgIZotTkROsa1ble8FQ5QQ/s320/Come-To-The-Dark-Side-We-Have-Cookies_1921-l.jpg" width="320" /></a>Scott picked me up, and we went to dinner at Monona Gardens. Watching the Brewers' game with a small group at the bar, we groaned, chewed our knuckles, and ultimately cheered as they took us into extra innings and finally pulled off the win of the final playoff game against Arizona. Then we went home to the contented sameness of being a happy family.</span></span></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-45422089184611906322011-10-06T20:56:00.021-05:002011-10-07T13:03:17.492-05:00Day 25: Second chances<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 25 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 661.3</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> -Carl Bard </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My friend Lori Holder-Webb recently wrote a </span><a href="http://notyourfathersaccountingprof.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/shehecheyanu/" style="font-size: large;">blog post</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> about the Jewish blessing "Shehecheyanu!" She described how "it is said, generally, when the moment at hand involves a First.... The first sight of a new baby. The first fruit of the season. The first time you enter a new home. The first time you kiss your new spouse. The first star you see in the sky." She went into even greater and more beautiful detail.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After experiencing the joy of that post, my devil's advocate mind had to raise the question, "What about when that first doesn't go so well? What if that spouse you first kissed doesn't work out as a life partner? Or you're born into a bad situation? Or maybe you just totally screw things up the first time around? What then?" It comes down to this: we all need a second chance sometimes.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNbNyKBqq0vwldTFW2pJ2Ph_lPDcGsA7WZ4OJe404w0wePfXWwO0np9ecHk7qLWS__J3lZ2xVXIGoupQ6-rgQdjnUFVgCEBf4KLxFTCH6r2IsXHWX_TFDNCB1tqbPIOo4ASHxLLNWWPY/s1600/190CanineSecondChances.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNbNyKBqq0vwldTFW2pJ2Ph_lPDcGsA7WZ4OJe404w0wePfXWwO0np9ecHk7qLWS__J3lZ2xVXIGoupQ6-rgQdjnUFVgCEBf4KLxFTCH6r2IsXHWX_TFDNCB1tqbPIOo4ASHxLLNWWPY/s320/190CanineSecondChances.jpg" width="190" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> The Dane County Humane Society (DCHS) has a program that recognizes that special need for a do-over in dogs with problems and prison inmates—aptly named The Second Chances Program. (If you are limited in time, please read no further, and go directly to the video at the bottom of this post. It will demonstrate more than I could say in two days.) The program began in 2009 with the goal of helping DCHS shelter dogs increase their adoptability by learning basic canine manners and training. Inmates at Thompson Correctional Center (TCC) in Deerfield, WI are screened to ensure a good fit for the program and are then paired up with canine candidates selected from DCHS. For 12 weeks, each Second Chances dog lives with its handler, and together they attend weekly training classes at TCC with a DCHS trainer. The handlers are responsible for the care and training of their dogs every day of those 12 weeks and, in addition, for the completion of related homework and reading assignments.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> The program concludes with Graduation Day, when the human and canine participants come to the shelter to celebrate their success. Handlers get to meet the dog's adopter(s) and to share with the audience their experiences and stories of living with and training the dogs.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When Scott and I have attended these graduation ceremonies, the depth of transformation exhibited in the inmates' stories touches everyone to the soul. We try to be dignified as these narratives unfold, then maybe sniff a time or two, then a tear escapes, and ultimately we just give up and let the tears roll.</span></span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIIhm-vsLmdhi2DW8eimG711gfNGSuG8Qs3Xb6ZPxd5_WmteUmySMXpdAcxo83XA-FCK5wNRo8sHFOM3_PHvdeP6asOdqUNiMS_rRRwmsfRcH8Qs-y4NNQHlWYQ4kG4YPZJ6AcgcPAc8/s1600/IMG_1279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIIhm-vsLmdhi2DW8eimG711gfNGSuG8Qs3Xb6ZPxd5_WmteUmySMXpdAcxo83XA-FCK5wNRo8sHFOM3_PHvdeP6asOdqUNiMS_rRRwmsfRcH8Qs-y4NNQHlWYQ4kG4YPZJ6AcgcPAc8/s320/IMG_1279.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Julie Lussier, DCHS Outreach & Annual Giving Supervisor, recalled her fondest memory from the program. "One of our first graduates was Sofia, a white poodle, whose handler was Jason. Sofia was a scared girl before she participated in the program, but by graduation she was a happy dog. At graduation Jason said that he didn't save Sofia, Sofia saved him. That comment will forever be in my heart and remind me of why this program is so important. It isn't just about helping animals. It is about helping people, too. Second Chances gives new life to dogs and their handlers. It is a beautiful thing!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Your participation in S4S is keeping my butt on the bike and fingers on the keyboard every weekday; but more importantly, with your DCHS pledge you are touching lives by making programs like this possible. Thank you so very, very much for being here and for making a difference.</span></span></span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7D_GDIzsXRGAXOSmBJTtFSccCnpmddEfA7coVoYZ-dNNSwRLTRT4o8KfD_ZtSQJX5CRA4FyUhENq3ppzxcNd8J91ojazUSVfiVc_CvrgRFo2T2m6Qn-OTVgFbckANGduuAoCxUoYUcbw/s1600/IMG_1290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7D_GDIzsXRGAXOSmBJTtFSccCnpmddEfA7coVoYZ-dNNSwRLTRT4o8KfD_ZtSQJX5CRA4FyUhENq3ppzxcNd8J91ojazUSVfiVc_CvrgRFo2T2m6Qn-OTVgFbckANGduuAoCxUoYUcbw/s320/IMG_1290.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> This morning was a little warmer and, if possible, even more enchanting than the past few. The eerily spectral mists, straight out of a Daphne du Maurier novel, contrasted with the overtly cheery sun. Such occult atmosphere made me feel that I should be doing something more exotic than pedaling a bicycle; but as Darrell Royal and Molly Ivins would agree, "Ya gotta dance with them what brung ya," and Silver Beauty was my partner of choice in the dance to work.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The ride home was warm, quick, and easy, with soft breezes going my way and sunny skies deepening to twilight indigo by the time Silver Beauty and I got home.</span></span></span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_CsqgibBHg2lsmg5bsypOZuBKHF26If11sxAVSoCbRioSsjLpg2csRg6py87CMMZaW5XlBy2V1NKSx_4-qa4k-AW4f0KYNfW0sygbmv-LaYNeuhTj0_f7zMXCx0cIgxoZ9rPg1M5LC8/s1600/sunny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_CsqgibBHg2lsmg5bsypOZuBKHF26If11sxAVSoCbRioSsjLpg2csRg6py87CMMZaW5XlBy2V1NKSx_4-qa4k-AW4f0KYNfW0sygbmv-LaYNeuhTj0_f7zMXCx0cIgxoZ9rPg1M5LC8/s320/sunny.jpg" width="218" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow, Friday Oct. 7, the Jewish holy day, Yom Kippur "Day of Atonement" </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">begins at sundown. I am not Jewish so cannot fully speak to its deepest meanings; but it seems like an appropriate time for each of us to ask for and grant forgiveness, to seek and extend second chances—to be full participants in starting from this moment and "making a brand new ending". </span></span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" font-family: MyriadProBold, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"><strong>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</strong></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" font-family: MyriadProBold, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"><strong><i>The current Second Chances candidate Sunny (pictured above) is scheduled to graduate on Saturday, November 5, 2011. Sunny will be coming to meet potential adopters on Friday, October 14 and Saturday, October 15. Please contact Betsy Halat, <a href="mailto:bhalat@giveshelter.org">bhalat@giveshelter.org</a> 608-838-0413 Ext 160 to schedule an appointment to meet Sunny!</strong></i></span></br><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" font-family: MyriadProBold, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"><i>Photos of inmate with dog and of Sunny courtesy of the Dane County Humane Society.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" font-family: MyriadProBold, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><strong> </strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8vDDr-jkGI4" width="560"></iframe></span></span></span></span></div>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-838182177653353092011-10-05T23:35:00.009-05:002011-10-05T23:59:41.781-05:00Day 24: Using all the gears<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 24 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Errand miles 4.0</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total miles for S4S: 634.5</b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Life is like a 10-speed bicycle. Most of us have gears we never use. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Charles Schulz </span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgDCjx_LFM9Cx7DnaAvEVm6MFwmXWSf3BOyrbZyyP8Gu0LvUmvwPoY5VVEhyAn0ew6yhNcVsNmVJCqJE08_ni4bLnGknL2oFOm4GwGF-_H7-UjgqdsGFopFTGEmEsDV6iKK8-f9Gk9lc/s1600/snoopy_bike.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgDCjx_LFM9Cx7DnaAvEVm6MFwmXWSf3BOyrbZyyP8Gu0LvUmvwPoY5VVEhyAn0ew6yhNcVsNmVJCqJE08_ni4bLnGknL2oFOm4GwGF-_H7-UjgqdsGFopFTGEmEsDV6iKK8-f9Gk9lc/s320/snoopy_bike.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">You can tell from my posts how much I love biking to work. It's exhilarating, clean & green, great exercise, and provides an almost-mystic experience in the doing—plus a bazillion other benefits and sensations that defy description. So as of August 2011, why was it that I had paved the proverbial road to hell with good intentions rather than tire tracks, and had biked to work exactly twice in the previous year? It demands planning, discipline, time, and energy; it is not convenient; and it does not fit into any comfort zone. That's why. But as I said when discussing it with a co-worker, "I know if I were committed to it, I'd find a way." As the maxim goes, "From your lips to God's ears." It was three days later that I got the idea for S4S.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNfug7Q-zQU-awXlUaujhXaLd4kB-3RnsrarqiYrjR7ZnGXYrnE6IaDcJG3sYEvH0Z8TNiDvG_cKYtULTy1zIngJx0juHk2ZH4jOIUKrztb9pwlDnPqa01IqT5cAOm3Y6AMCfUKPAu2w/s1600/IMG_1237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNfug7Q-zQU-awXlUaujhXaLd4kB-3RnsrarqiYrjR7ZnGXYrnE6IaDcJG3sYEvH0Z8TNiDvG_cKYtULTy1zIngJx0juHk2ZH4jOIUKrztb9pwlDnPqa01IqT5cAOm3Y6AMCfUKPAu2w/s320/IMG_1237.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> This is a project for which my personal planets align: motivation to bike to work fueled by my commitment to animal rescue and supported by the love of family and friends. Tagging the project with the promise of a daily blog post also forces me to spend butt-in-the-chair time and write—something I consider a personal calling, but that is usually cause for procrastination.<br />
<br />
S4S is replete with all the demands and inconveniences cited above—a pain in the ass in every sense of the word—while being one of the most intensely gratifying things I have ever undertaken in my life. To paraphrase the Charles Schulz quote, I feel like I'm "using all the gears".<br />
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</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3F8e_Xjl2kV22qwo38izzEx34ACQDsbWhWfPiSSI1vjCwO16auOsl9-8qGr0UBM-uOLh1Ll9nhQeVv-ARfau8EhvcNyeLi6ydviG0v3ERnHZpm0tKoY82TruUWYd8aUFiLMvxFcqyap0/s1600/IMG_1244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3F8e_Xjl2kV22qwo38izzEx34ACQDsbWhWfPiSSI1vjCwO16auOsl9-8qGr0UBM-uOLh1Ll9nhQeVv-ARfau8EhvcNyeLi6ydviG0v3ERnHZpm0tKoY82TruUWYd8aUFiLMvxFcqyap0/s320/IMG_1244.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> This whole experience has been and continues to be so profound, I want to pass it on. Please consider where you can "use all the gears". What do you really want to do that you haven't, that you both desire and resist with all your might? What is one step you can take this minute to set yourself on that road? You are supporting me in finding my new gears and using untried old ones. I'm here to partner with or support you in exploring yours.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ViY1ehMJ7fVUrHX1EF23Gy-4q3Yqxdh4mnZ8z7-wSscUwD2GloViutipJdC4kwAwr1zYheNKrOX7-_uDi-nFcWq72MeTZGtGdbSiaLdB6cgbqTVJxIeV-wDQvCrbxzbio-DGySWJMlY/s1600/IMG_1248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ViY1ehMJ7fVUrHX1EF23Gy-4q3Yqxdh4mnZ8z7-wSscUwD2GloViutipJdC4kwAwr1zYheNKrOX7-_uDi-nFcWq72MeTZGtGdbSiaLdB6cgbqTVJxIeV-wDQvCrbxzbio-DGySWJMlY/s320/IMG_1248.JPG" width="239" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> This week has been a redundancy of beautiful mornings. When Silver Beauty and I started our day, the sun was backlighting mists rising from the lowlands. With only four hours sleep last night, my eyes were almost as glassy as Lake Monona. The perfectly mirrored reflections of the city looked like someone had PhotoShopped the water. Just how many preternaturally brilliant days can one human absorb? I don't have the answer to that, but am volunteering myself to be the ongoing guinea pig in the experiment that seeks to know.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvQGwHBn-h9FKEOK53QG2r4eWStZGrJ9E8yBlNTfVfvRXbAAZk6tTdvVjPvBQLuCKClFNcX-CjEIaP1PevaXbXYC4m1uOqk1aM8VdvcKjMo43-rP9m_nXqadPQyEhNJw0S6GYHvQOXVk/s1600/IMG_1260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvQGwHBn-h9FKEOK53QG2r4eWStZGrJ9E8yBlNTfVfvRXbAAZk6tTdvVjPvBQLuCKClFNcX-CjEIaP1PevaXbXYC4m1uOqk1aM8VdvcKjMo43-rP9m_nXqadPQyEhNJw0S6GYHvQOXVk/s320/IMG_1260.JPG" width="320" /></a>After work I had to run (or bike) a couple errands, so that put an extra 4 miles on the odometer. The sun is setting earlier every night, but it seems to be doing so at an exponentially increasing pace. Silver Beauty is decked out like a Christmas tree with two front lights—flashing halogen and steady state floodlight—and red flashing tail light on the back. This week I have needed all of that by the time I got home. I had ordered sunglasses with amber-colored lenses; but they don't seem all that much better in low light than my regular copper blue-block. I feel like a mariner, continually learning how to deal with weather, sun, dark, and the elements in general.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8Ko13G8maHkeNhE1HNP97GK_nmvfcTCyFFqSrJvbjaZaWE4bfjeHAWUz8SPputqTZNbX1rUlOFC-NI_juOZf1qyQqML3wk692irTmidZyeY-gUEjg0K2Bp0xLK15vX-9n4N8GQbgbco/s1600/IMG_1272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8Ko13G8maHkeNhE1HNP97GK_nmvfcTCyFFqSrJvbjaZaWE4bfjeHAWUz8SPputqTZNbX1rUlOFC-NI_juOZf1qyQqML3wk692irTmidZyeY-gUEjg0K2Bp0xLK15vX-9n4N8GQbgbco/s320/IMG_1272.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Even with lights, it starts getting a little creepy riding on the path in the dark, but the "dark side" has its allure too. There is something magical about gliding along in the black satin of the night, low-flying geese honking to establish their presence, and the whole sense of mystery that is nightfall. It also fulfills the Eleanor Roosevelt mandate to "Do something every day that scares you." It's the first commandment of using all the gears.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-80792366553912411792011-10-04T23:59:00.019-05:002011-10-10T12:03:23.891-05:00Day 23: Another close one for last-chance Tuesday<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 23 miles to/from work: 26.8</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dental appointment miles: 9.2<br />
Total miles for S4S: 603.7</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">In yesterday's <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-22-who-waits-till-october.html">post</a>, I rhapsodized about football and my love of the game. To continue in that vernacular, this is a "fourth down and long yardage" kind of post. It is pushing midnight. Scott went to bed over an hour ago asking, "Have you even started your blog post?" Uh, no. "Then this is the night you reserve the right to one paragraph." I don't think I could give you directions from my sofa to the fridge in one paragraph. Just be alerted that this is not my highest and best, and I am attributing it to either "the cats ate my homework" or "I was busy herding cats." </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1eoO2ca-hI4cz2qn79TP_VCxTP6GOS2GCdgM2ecUKFn6qXctgUY4-HLneLlpufS_JjtrdA0TUN2F5oyAMMnyX4JCF6RwrmFNyflKRN_an7gCvviY3oWjl0SIhu8Sjim_hXbwAUr4DpU/s1600/IMG_1223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1eoO2ca-hI4cz2qn79TP_VCxTP6GOS2GCdgM2ecUKFn6qXctgUY4-HLneLlpufS_JjtrdA0TUN2F5oyAMMnyX4JCF6RwrmFNyflKRN_an7gCvviY3oWjl0SIhu8Sjim_hXbwAUr4DpU/s320/IMG_1223.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> This morning started as another perfect October day. I awoke to a parfait sunrise, low 40s temperatures, and no wind. The perfect biking day. I want to savor every moment of my rides, to feel my senses heightened and on the alert to take in every scent, sound, sight, and feeling. I want to, but I don't. There is something about repetition that dulls the senses. Maybe it's just that I'm a Philistine. I still enjoy the ride, the feel of the fresh breeze hitting my face, the feeling of freedom in being part of the elements, the knowledge that I'm saving $3.40/gallon of gas. But the euphoria that came with the initial experience is simply not as keen. On the other side of the coin, the familiarity also makes the miles melt away quickly. I could tell you within a tenth of a mile the distance from my starting and ending point of any landmark on the ride. When I first started doing S4S, I would cheer myself on and manage the demands of riding with <i>1.4 miles, 10% there! 2.8 miles, 20% there! </i>And so forth. What an odd little balancing act. Even as I was enjoying the euphoria of being the intrepid traveler, transporting myself to work under my own power, it was also an endurance feat in which part of me couldn't quite believe I'd ever get there and demanded demonstrable metrics.<br />
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This morning I was a bit saddle sore and not as attuned to the wonders of the ride as I would have preferred, but it was lovely; and the miles evaporated.<br />
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I had a dental appointment at 12:30—garden-variety cleaning and check-up—so that put some additional miles into the mix. My gums were declared "pink and healthy", and I snarkily shared, "That's because I don't have to lie to my dentist about flossing like my husband does to his." Isn't that terrible to throw one's beloved under the dental bus? I can only exhibit so much virtue before I must seek balance.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozgb9Dn6E0xDbK-NBbeFyLASDtzlNY8es1incpkFd9E3CuND133SvrxD3jFA10PLC_uPRPXjrpRztHUUCua1nvaU8n5dBIlZwS4Ca7uCriLxTssUP1gajHbuXp_CYovtmHBKUglcIT9o/s1600/IMG_1232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozgb9Dn6E0xDbK-NBbeFyLASDtzlNY8es1incpkFd9E3CuND133SvrxD3jFA10PLC_uPRPXjrpRztHUUCua1nvaU8n5dBIlZwS4Ca7uCriLxTssUP1gajHbuXp_CYovtmHBKUglcIT9o/s320/IMG_1232.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Coming home, I stopped to photograph a house that I pass daily, and love that its colors are the same as the turning trees. I noticed a FB message on my iPhone (also my camera)—my Texas animal rescue buddies were in high gear on the Carrollton urgent rescue list (described in <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/09/day-14-saving-gator.html">Day 14: Saving the Gator</a>). I'd been so concerned about Cleopatra, a deaf, black German shepherd estimated to be 13-15 years old, and I'd even had dreams about her. Her chances of adoption or even rescue were that of the proverbial snowball's in hell. I texted my JAH buddies Phyllis' number at Sunflower Hill Rescue in Terrell, TX—"on my bike. cll hr. alwys gd abt tkg srs. b online aftr gt hm & dnr" Pedaled on. Bike lights are now a necessity by the end of the ride.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPcbX3uHdFPLPLefcb7MxUBFgRgaX_mvhJtsFl6zOw7WFfZLQyMzfmZ63ZNMkKTHD164vA18owaVwJB-Lbn6-FM48f_LtTJBYGUGJmcHwY-vjx3WIWoHM0cKJv6wQCCbO0R1bmvYanNE/s1600/298027_10150312166872120_283616192119_8497673_1871108774_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPcbX3uHdFPLPLefcb7MxUBFgRgaX_mvhJtsFl6zOw7WFfZLQyMzfmZ63ZNMkKTHD164vA18owaVwJB-Lbn6-FM48f_LtTJBYGUGJmcHwY-vjx3WIWoHM0cKJv6wQCCbO0R1bmvYanNE/s320/298027_10150312166872120_283616192119_8497673_1871108774_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Scott, bless his heart, fixed dinner. Then I got on the computer and started updating the pledge sheet for the Carrollton shelter urgent list. There weren't many adoptions over the weekend, so we were looking at six cats and ten dogs most likely booked at 7 a.m. Wednesday for their date with eternity. Joe sent word that Cleopatra was safe. (Turned out Joe had already talked to Phyllis, and she was going to take two of the "special needs" cases, including Cleopatra. Then it turned out <i>another</i> rescue was taking Cleo for an adoption! Double coverage!) <i>Huge</i> relief. There were also other dogs that had been pulled by rescues. We were down to five cats—one of them solid black, which is almost a death sentence at this time of year. Rescues will not adopt them out because of some of the abusive practices on black cats during the Halloween season. Nor will they take them in. <br />
<br />
Sissy, Judy Ann, Leticia (my JAH buddies), and I were texting back and forth. It seemed that every rescue they were calling was full to the gills and either rejecting new rescues or not responding. I remembered calling one rescue, Texas PawPrints, late at night a few weeks ago to confirm an address for sending donations. I had been surprised to get a human, Angie. She had been surprised that any group actually had a formalized pledge system. At 11pm this evening, I was desperate on behalf of the lives of sweet, furry creatures. I called. Angie answered. I identified myself and said, "I'm working with the Carrollton shelter, and I have five cats with total pledges of $420. I know you're full. Would there be any way you could save them?" She took the details for each cat and said she would call her director. Within 30 minutes she called back and said to tag them. They're saved.<br />
<br />
Let's have a big, celebratory victory lap for Tuesday. From the wilds of Wisconsin, we saved five Texas cats from execution. Yea!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> By day's end, I passed the 600-mile mark for S4S! Thank you for celebrating these wins and these milestones with me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed.</span></span><br />
</span></span></span><br />
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<div></div>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-12998268206785767012011-10-03T22:02:00.018-05:002011-10-03T22:31:58.504-05:00Day 22: Who waits till October<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 22 miles to/from work: 26.8<br />
Total miles for S4S: 567.7</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I don't count on the boy who waits till October, when it's cool and fun, then decides he wants to play <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Darrell Royal </span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04jA5gO0qysdFvGFerphuIcNb5nHl4v1I_z2qGX0PMXZm12YEFCAJb2gb2jeObL3-qFc616tsFzRHsEfaElzqpnBPP06PwnmqKHLGxREsWj769uY_v3flHUel6qrbW3Z4eAlnXl8fJyU/s1600/IMG_1204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04jA5gO0qysdFvGFerphuIcNb5nHl4v1I_z2qGX0PMXZm12YEFCAJb2gb2jeObL3-qFc616tsFzRHsEfaElzqpnBPP06PwnmqKHLGxREsWj769uY_v3flHUel6qrbW3Z4eAlnXl8fJyU/s320/IMG_1204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Fishing families live by a certain rhythm: tides, moon phases, wind directions, cloud formations, and an indefinable something in their blood that viscerally alerts them to the smallest change in the atmosphere. Football families are similarly attuned. As the calendar turns to August, the initial stirrings begin with the practice sounds of pads thunking and impact grunts, followed by weeks of the inevitably awful exhibition games. September is struggle: summer vying with fall, players seeking solid ground within their team, and teams establishing pecking orders in their conferences—all accompanied by brassy marching bands and raucous tailgate parties.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5grZHBGR4rN-3-zG8GYjiEPYUfj6sUqIyUk0ayIjgvRHzXODG_TbwfeE-8g6nxPBMEBepqanqJjt5J0E15hRq0S9ULWf_2Y5kdJKJOyXl-kUedVnRMcT29p2TC5IYbDzAz_2OvbXo-8/s1600/IMG_1120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5grZHBGR4rN-3-zG8GYjiEPYUfj6sUqIyUk0ayIjgvRHzXODG_TbwfeE-8g6nxPBMEBepqanqJjt5J0E15hRq0S9ULWf_2Y5kdJKJOyXl-kUedVnRMcT29p2TC5IYbDzAz_2OvbXo-8/s320/IMG_1120.jpg" width="248" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Then October. Oh, October, you beautiful month, with your glittering skies and shocking trees shedding their leaves like pole dancers at a Republican convention; the month when football families can give themselves to the fully established arc of that quickening in their collective blood. It's here! Football season is fully upon us, and we are so happy!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">You may be asking, "What does this have to do with biking?" Nothing. "Animal rescue?" Not a thing. It's my blog, and I am from a football family. I love my football-crazy sisters who can talk about screen passes, blocking, holding penalties, and fourth-down-and-long, while sharing fond recollections of college and pro-ball coaches of the past half century.<br />
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRwbgQeH3HxdorLBRO1R81INePcs7SR8HOlmh7o5B7Xqx_ZMCxlb_mDdqR9ESIkgkaVe3v4c1whxMyWVQlk2ur2pDEP6RWUaxQEwFzKVhblzyaS2X2ZSyGlIXtbqGjeB-j0vlcJ3cjHw/s1600/Packers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRwbgQeH3HxdorLBRO1R81INePcs7SR8HOlmh7o5B7Xqx_ZMCxlb_mDdqR9ESIkgkaVe3v4c1whxMyWVQlk2ur2pDEP6RWUaxQEwFzKVhblzyaS2X2ZSyGlIXtbqGjeB-j0vlcJ3cjHw/s320/Packers.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> As annoying as it can be, I love that I married a man who will check the Badgers' and Packers' schedule before he will plan anything else. I love football. I love October, and October is here. I just needed to get that out there, with the admission that I am coming off an amazing </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Wisconsin </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">weekend football bender. Thank you for bearing with me. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWnXfxkeoJ2BmfLvDhy4VXQGsHkvGXuIxECD2BVlEMasT_y8K36dV0qEN-Rhn7c37zJ5F9KblBtekYwQUGJV74jq2jZu0tt7UmgdVW_EmLGsIPsqrA6DjB45gYENw_t2In35sSs8y90w/s1600/IMG_1210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWnXfxkeoJ2BmfLvDhy4VXQGsHkvGXuIxECD2BVlEMasT_y8K36dV0qEN-Rhn7c37zJ5F9KblBtekYwQUGJV74jq2jZu0tt7UmgdVW_EmLGsIPsqrA6DjB45gYENw_t2In35sSs8y90w/s320/IMG_1210.JPG" width="320" /></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Oh, October, you beautiful month. My ride started with bright sunshine, 40 degrees, no wind. I was careful not to over-dress, but was still sweating like a porker by the time I got to work. Get those toxins out. Somewhere around Mile 6, I had to detour around a street sweeper on the bike path. While I was grateful to have the walnuts, leaves, branches, and other butt-jarring debris gone, it was a tight squeeze getting around the behemoth. As I precariously teetered around, then tottered back in front of it, I was mentally contemplating the obituary, "Cyclist Crushed Beneath Street Sweeper Brush!" Better, I suppose, than "Do-nothing, Rusted Out, Crushed Beneath the Boredom".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
Scott called me late afternoon and announced his intention to meet me part way for the ride home. </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So we synced our destination spot </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(Sequoyah Library). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was 70 degrees, sunny, and crystalline when I left the office. Scott got to Sequoyah 6 minutes before I did, but not bad as such </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">timing goes. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">For our homeward trek, motorists won the courtesy/safety contest (if there is one) over pedestrians and cyclists today. At almost every intersection, kind motorists waved us through, in addition to those who signaled, observed traffic lights, and were generally good citizens of the road.</br></br><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YTpn6VjPhtnVtjMwIXZbvCwIiABVR0t52XbDbThZCWyvI7Fxcqd6mNmojznfQN0qNrCdUU0n0ZfeCOKAa-zKiZP5pdlpys0waxVi-aFv9aGVSN0PvGUQi3dUMAvcjZMjEhPi75l4pVo/s1600/IMG_1219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YTpn6VjPhtnVtjMwIXZbvCwIiABVR0t52XbDbThZCWyvI7Fxcqd6mNmojznfQN0qNrCdUU0n0ZfeCOKAa-zKiZP5pdlpys0waxVi-aFv9aGVSN0PvGUQi3dUMAvcjZMjEhPi75l4pVo/s320/IMG_1219.jpg" width="239" /></a>In several bike path incidents, pedestrians and cyclists bobbed and weaved with</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">out warning like drunken pugilists, seemed completely unaware of their surroundings, and were generally hazardous and annoying as they created a living and slightly dangerous obstacle course. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">We survived and even thrived. By the time we got to our parking spot at Lussier Family Center, the sun was setting, the moon was rising, and we were in sync with the maternal side of Mother Nature. It was time for an intimate dinner at home</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">—and Monday Night Football.</span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-33275803263477137372011-09-30T22:00:00.009-05:002011-10-03T12:05:16.136-05:00Day 21: Blue Skies/Blue Thighs<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 21 miles to/from work: 23.5<br />
Total miles for S4S: 540.9</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Blue skies smiling at me,<br />
Nothing but blue skies do I see.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Irving Berlin </span></i></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-uL1lZ_WrV5cLXgMvUXEhMHsAAhixdi8mHgogWvaM2uhptIOZwoSgdm89Ul-8RGJsIzFWXpQBY1aGCfCxVecyX8w8keYFacktmrsH5f90uDZFcSJf5gafIg-PTybgmLd0raxbY8L6Tw/s1600/IMG_1155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-uL1lZ_WrV5cLXgMvUXEhMHsAAhixdi8mHgogWvaM2uhptIOZwoSgdm89Ul-8RGJsIzFWXpQBY1aGCfCxVecyX8w8keYFacktmrsH5f90uDZFcSJf5gafIg-PTybgmLd0raxbY8L6Tw/s320/IMG_1155.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This morning it was sun and blue skies! Yea! Let's not talk about temperatures in the 40s and wind. Actually, the temperatures weren't bad—I was dressed for it and quite comfortable. But the wind, coupled with tired, sore legs made it a long ride in. For 13.4 miles there wasn't a pedal stroke for which my quads weren't bitterly complaining and singin' the blues. As my legs were screaming, I was thinking of them as ill-mannered guests along for the ride. Then I realized the unfairness of that assessment since they were doing the work in getting me there. I've mentioned my propensity for telling myself jokes (usually bad ones) as I pedal; and these thoughts brought one of my favorites to mind:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLD5qXCa-PPdRQYxLYWsy1ouOo_lDJG-2UjlGQgKks7eTWU7NRIlXNmICam5eoJ0-adL_UzXkYe9RStmEWFZoLymZmG10udANF8GosZyukn5X0buGxYPw3tGn7x-LPThVEuE2MFqnXA4/s1600/IMG_1177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLD5qXCa-PPdRQYxLYWsy1ouOo_lDJG-2UjlGQgKks7eTWU7NRIlXNmICam5eoJ0-adL_UzXkYe9RStmEWFZoLymZmG10udANF8GosZyukn5X0buGxYPw3tGn7x-LPThVEuE2MFqnXA4/s320/IMG_1177.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> The couple who, having booked an amazingly cheap Mediterranean cruise, were gathering their luggage at the pier when they were struck on the head, carried down to the hold of a Roman galley, and shackled at the ankles. They were forced to row to the insistent beat of a large drum and were lashed with a whip if their rhythm lagged. Returning to port ten days later, the couple were filthy, tattered, and in pain from the rowing and lashings. As they were walking down the gang plank, the woman turned to her husband and asked, "Do you think we should tip the drummer?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Once again Scott and I had Friday after-work plans—a shredding party ("bring all your old records that need to be shredded") outside our financial advisor's office, complete with brats and burgers. Biking there to meet Scott was about 3 miles shorter than my usual ride home, but I should get extra points for the hair-raising adventure of going down the Belt Line's frontage road with cars blasting past at 60 mph.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuyoXepAFGt9BY3JoTcGVtvqkyx39T3N_gn3AHw-nPwP6w9zdIkBd3dvY9n5OvxvrS8fOecwn4W8XnPkr6AFtFs6Tm_4FBZ3cF_t4R-4v8n1jgXDpUOs6oPW05X7BXLmiEcQMYt0h9qc/s1600/IMG_1178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuyoXepAFGt9BY3JoTcGVtvqkyx39T3N_gn3AHw-nPwP6w9zdIkBd3dvY9n5OvxvrS8fOecwn4W8XnPkr6AFtFs6Tm_4FBZ3cF_t4R-4v8n1jgXDpUOs6oPW05X7BXLmiEcQMYt0h9qc/s320/IMG_1178.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After shredding and socializing, we went to Porta Bella Restaurant for a drink. Adjacent to the UW campus, and with this being The Night Before The Big Game and 20,000 Nebraska fans in town, the streets were hoppin'. Scott, who has been going to Porta Bella since 1967, likes to remind employees (in this case our very nice bartender, Anthony) that he was a customer there before they were born. No one has ever disagreed with him. While enjoying this interlude of romantic atmosphere and alcohol, the sun set; and the skies went from blue to indigo to black. The distressed "blue" thighs eased into relaxation and forgot to complain. Thus closed the week and the first month of Sweating for Shelter. Welcome to the weekend.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DBT7nUxJpC4" width="420"></iframe></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-40406835704757319002011-09-29T23:12:00.014-05:002011-09-29T23:39:40.690-05:00Day 20: In my day<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 20 miles to/from work: 27.0<br />
Total miles for S4S: 517.4</b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>In my day we didn't have no rocks. We had to go down to the<br />
creek and wash our clothes by beating them with our heads.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Barry Blyveis, Washington Post Style Invitational </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Lyid6H_rHYC6vuRvpV5-eQk3jhx0pA-Y1HATZMGk5klAhkuveHTfFWTUCaKjG22SZKKJcKYCbJHS2eT11e745BDx3oyzM3hcLAPgzOs2ZpvFRQDPK3BU3JZnLm2KMxCeKjGtXsL0Jm4/s1600/graygoose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Lyid6H_rHYC6vuRvpV5-eQk3jhx0pA-Y1HATZMGk5klAhkuveHTfFWTUCaKjG22SZKKJcKYCbJHS2eT11e745BDx3oyzM3hcLAPgzOs2ZpvFRQDPK3BU3JZnLm2KMxCeKjGtXsL0Jm4/s320/graygoose.jpg" width="66" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Gray goose. (No, not the vodka—that's <i>Grey</i> Goose. Nice choice, by the way.) That's what the sky looked like this morning—the feathers of a gray goose. When Silver Beauty and I got on the road, there were a few little patches of blue; but the horizon had mostly that gray, feathery, textured quality. As we rode, the blue evaporated into total gray goose. Then it started to rain. It wasn't the torrential rains of Monday, but a gentle, steady drizzle that took us all the way to the office.<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUa52IG9D3QFvFdJoARJxJWML6wvmqHk8AteOodhcPjuUkcmZQ4D5_TOXC1ANz34ZBBAWbqbKWtFVYgt6O4ngOl64GGwIKpcTsX2ENjIWagCHsRrOTF0utyxooYqmf7FNEYg9069Sjbw/s1600/IMG_1149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUa52IG9D3QFvFdJoARJxJWML6wvmqHk8AteOodhcPjuUkcmZQ4D5_TOXC1ANz34ZBBAWbqbKWtFVYgt6O4ngOl64GGwIKpcTsX2ENjIWagCHsRrOTF0utyxooYqmf7FNEYg9069Sjbw/s320/IMG_1149.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Those of you who have been following the S4S project have come to know (and love, I'm sure) my bike, Silver Beauty. That sounds like a horse's name, doesn't it? Although she is my "steed" of choice, that type of name and association would be way too predictable for my tastes. Silver ("Ag" to chemistry nerds and fans of the Periodic Tables of the Elements) Beauty was not capriciously named—or was named with huge caprice, depending on which end of the spectrum you wish to side. Her namesake was a paper clip, derived from the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Style_Invitational">Washington Post Style Invitational</a> [click the link: just reading the History portion of the Wikipedia entry I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt] contest, <a href="http://www.radford.edu/~ibarland/Public/Humor/inMyDay...">"In My Day"</a>, in which contestants were to tell GenXrs how much harder they had it in the old days. I really liked most of them, but was particularly drawn to: <i>In my day, we didn't have dogs or cats. All I had was Silver Beauty, my beloved paper clip.</i> So even though I love <i>my</i> Silver Beauty for all she means as dependable transportation, comrade, and faithful steed, every time I think of her name and the other "In My Day" entries, it makes me laugh.<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTHzaH_KM6BQGQQrYipXhnmkgjSoHpwWOgJjxcW3RLtBDsgit0SKSLYthiEVcNRHr8NXCiRPaCX_skDMcdFOThLTo5kHgZE1E9sZyEcLIqc4veTAmTdKc8Xgytzg_lJeK9_tkwCAjFuQ/s1600/IMG_1092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTHzaH_KM6BQGQQrYipXhnmkgjSoHpwWOgJjxcW3RLtBDsgit0SKSLYthiEVcNRHr8NXCiRPaCX_skDMcdFOThLTo5kHgZE1E9sZyEcLIqc4veTAmTdKc8Xgytzg_lJeK9_tkwCAjFuQ/s320/IMG_1092.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Almost as soon as I got to work, I watched from my office as the sun came out. It was beautiful and flirted like a buxom barfly. Once the workday was over, the sun disappeared into some cosmic back room, and the sky turned angry—a hissing gray goose. I rode home in rain with high winds. Most of the time I was fortunate that it was a tailwind, but even with that I had to be careful. The pavement was wet and slick, and there was hazardous debris all over the streets and bike paths</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">—dangerously slippery autumn leaves, branches from the storms, pine cones, and walnuts the size of tennis balls. Keeping the "rubber side down" was a greater challenge than normal, in addition to the crazed motorists who acted as though they were driving under the influence of a full moon. My rain jacket was my comfort. Warm. Dry. Cocoon.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Ah... cocooning. Scott got home from Denver, and we decided to ditch our eating-out plans in favor of pizza at home and a bottle of "imported" Colorado Shiraz. We watched the gray goose skies go dark, and were both happy to be home as the rain persisted and we went back to "in our day" with The Lovin' Spoonful.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/--9O1ElmXc8" width="420"></iframe></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-75131992017938844202011-09-28T23:42:00.015-05:002011-09-29T10:23:10.998-05:00Day 19: Old age and treachery<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 19 miles to/from work: 26.8<br />
Total miles for S4S: 490.4</b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Old age and treachery will<br />
always overcome youth and skill.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Proverb</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghknOXUDwYMzZS5WFynLe0C7vgaM1qVkj_ZJBtlroB3F0PocgdIFoIBws2GmhcJBoGvpF6mGTS3S2OvEM9rtKEa3kxsF7ejHPUy3wD14xEGc1gEF5YmM-BqLEZztiRe2motXb6y6f5GIA/s1600/IMG_1119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghknOXUDwYMzZS5WFynLe0C7vgaM1qVkj_ZJBtlroB3F0PocgdIFoIBws2GmhcJBoGvpF6mGTS3S2OvEM9rtKEa3kxsF7ejHPUy3wD14xEGc1gEF5YmM-BqLEZztiRe2motXb6y6f5GIA/s320/IMG_1119.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Last Friday was the first day of autumn, and some of the trees took it as a personal challenge. Overnight parts of the landscape on my ride went from lush green to blazing yellow and red. I must have received the "change to blazing" memo too, and I'm feeling feisty. For instance, as I was enjoying pedaling to work this morning, I thought about how a couple people have written about my "peddling". Please note: I have nothing to sell. "Peddling my ass all over town" has a far different connotation than "pedaling" said ass all over town. See what I mean? Feisty.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Feisty can be fun and playful. But heaven help the one that gets on the wrong side of it. This afternoon I got an email about Planet Propaganda recruiting for a Zoot Sports Madison photo shoot: "very fit, athletic and attractive people (2 male, 2 female) that fit in size medium Zoot gear". Cool! I love Zoot athletic apparel and wear (i.e., </span><i style="font-size: large;">purchase</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">) a lot of it. In size medium. I looked at the attached specs. That's where it detailed ages 21-35 only. In other words, if you are 36 or older, you have dropped off Planet Propaganda and Zoot's radar as a valued demographic; and you need not apply. The only comfort I could find</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuypI8KUgjgmvI6IZEGkvtzIJ0vPwCID6t8sj3ChYnKY-4SJgPc-VdOK2z7_PyDWHQkLjRVL06JiFyo_aoz1IAkv2_QKNYh9PfQjFMbLXZqTO0dCRboBi4dTrdXjGozIuiXWs8vzo7XU/s1600/Diana+Nyad+AARP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuypI8KUgjgmvI6IZEGkvtzIJ0vPwCID6t8sj3ChYnKY-4SJgPc-VdOK2z7_PyDWHQkLjRVL06JiFyo_aoz1IAkv2_QKNYh9PfQjFMbLXZqTO0dCRboBi4dTrdXjGozIuiXWs8vzo7XU/s320/Diana+Nyad+AARP.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">in that is that even Diana Nyad—marathon swimmer, gorgeous, and 62—would have to get a special dispensation before they would consider her.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Ultimately I probably wouldn't have applied for the "modeling" assignment even if age had not been a factor. But the implied statement that anyone over 36 has no value to them hit me wrong, wrong, wrong. They were definitely on the wrong side of feisty. I went to the Zoot website and sent my views, citing the Madison photo shoot recruiting specs, by which they are ignoring the Boomer demographic—an important part of their customer base—and I would buy no more Zoot products until they clearly change that. I did not mention that I will be putting some kind of "Age Hater" prints on my current Zoot wear.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> I sent a return email to the listserv from which the offending email originated, trying to be pleasant rather than shrill, but stating the same sentiments I had made to Zoot. (From that I have been receiving "me too" emails from other like-minded and like-aged athletes. One 50-year-old male said he had worn all Zoot attire and shoes when he did the 140.6 miles of Ironman Wisconsin triathlon earlier this month, but "I certainly can and will spend my money elsewhere.")</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> I wasn't through. When ageism runs rampant, "who ya gonna call"? The obvious choice is that stalwart of seniors and activist for advanced age—the Ghostbusters, as it were, of ageism. AARP. This is where it started getting weird. It seems that there is not an employee of AARP who is even close to the age of 50, let alone over, despite the membership requirement of being 50+. After I talked to two 20somethings whose IQs were possibly lower than their cumulative number of years on earth, I started asking to speak to "anyone who works there who is over the age of 50". I talked to seven people. All of them younger than my oldest pair of running shorts. Number Eight was Tina, a manager who </span><i style="font-size: large;">may</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> have been pushing 40. She was so helpful, I finally gave up my search for the mythical AARP half-centenarian employee. Tina was able to give me the email address where I could send the Zoot/Planet Propaganda information, express my views, and send documenting attachments. What the hell, drink the Kool Aid—I joined AARP. Tina helped me with that too.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwLBvP-mi_ZrLRRqWJE5WfRIlPpDClkJUOaoaI8ou4UuWqiDXFy7N-WAd95GY83yxEVh_yPYko_mfzu-BYJKnM4MEKU_66fpO5ZA-QudZzd27FPT5i4fHuAEq_ahXadrZSOB4zXT56f8I/s1600/AARP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwLBvP-mi_ZrLRRqWJE5WfRIlPpDClkJUOaoaI8ou4UuWqiDXFy7N-WAd95GY83yxEVh_yPYko_mfzu-BYJKnM4MEKU_66fpO5ZA-QudZzd27FPT5i4fHuAEq_ahXadrZSOB4zXT56f8I/s320/AARP.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> My ride home was feisty-fueled (somewhere on the scale between rocket juice and atomic energy), enhanced with slightly more blue sky than clouds and even the occasional cameo appearance by El Sol. Silver Beauty and I cranked, pounded, and got a major workout; and I still had feisty fuel left over to run Jazz 3 miles. So ends the day. I came, I saw, I biked, I ran the dawg. I am now a card-carrying AARP member. I have money, and I know where to spend it—and where not to. Let The Revolution begin.</span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-3733393676402065172011-09-27T23:18:00.018-05:002011-09-27T23:56:13.881-05:00Day 18: Beauty<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 18 miles to/from work: 26.8<br />
Total miles for S4S: 463.6</b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>For the beauty of the earth,<br />
For the glory of the skies;<br />
For the love which from our birth,<br />
Over and around us lies;<br />
Lord of all, to Thee we raise<br />
This, our hymn of grateful praise.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-Folliott S. Pierpoint</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVafxa2ugPejw1TQ4Zx_PyT2iiDjdjET2C_RoUaHEQ7nV2Z0c64GWt6v145a_6jwslvdH577JbFUOjUjscDjB3srT9eMg_HQbw_VFrmiy594gs9_ONevtLhg7Q7Dr0w-aC08DDiVSBDU/s1600/IMG_1082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVafxa2ugPejw1TQ4Zx_PyT2iiDjdjET2C_RoUaHEQ7nV2Z0c64GWt6v145a_6jwslvdH577JbFUOjUjscDjB3srT9eMg_HQbw_VFrmiy594gs9_ONevtLhg7Q7Dr0w-aC08DDiVSBDU/s320/IMG_1082.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday it was kind of fun <a href="http://sweat4shelter.blogspot.com/2011/09/day-17-it-was-dark-and-stormy-day.html">wrestling with the elements</a> and taking them down to the mat. Today it was just as much fun being free of that obligation. The weather this morning was a meteorological mongrel—unsure of its pedigree and nondescript in the extreme. Mid-50s temps, overcast with the occasional spitty rain, showing random signs of clearing, then reverting to sulky murk. It was an equally nondescript ride to work. Not uncomfortable, not fired with endorphins. Fine, just fine. Really. Fine. Or in Scott's Midwestern vernacular, "Not bad."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihXVS9i30v9WdcOrmLbB3SF2jlTDFDjKOgQW-A0sF0ue4kEOENiKNmg7Omkdga3EKc3EuFC4-1A_kMhcK1lq9Y2AQCSfp5RfOFOgam_f3J81byQNprp-4XL5VBjRwn3v96FXWJSckAlAU/s1600/IMG_1096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihXVS9i30v9WdcOrmLbB3SF2jlTDFDjKOgQW-A0sF0ue4kEOENiKNmg7Omkdga3EKc3EuFC4-1A_kMhcK1lq9Y2AQCSfp5RfOFOgam_f3J81byQNprp-4XL5VBjRwn3v96FXWJSckAlAU/s320/IMG_1096.JPG" width="320" /></a> By the time I finished up my work for the day, I left a little later than I'd planned. With the shortening daylight compounded by overcast, dusk was setting in early. It had been raining, and Silver Beauty was completely wet except for the seat, which I've learned to cover with a plastic bag between rides. My knee hurt. I really was not in the mood to do this. Everything was wet. The asphalt was slick. The sky looked like leftovers that had been forgotten in Tupperware for three weeks. Yuk. Nothin' to do but get on and crank.<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHoyQ1GFLvNJe-EwdGaYTV0Ui9mv39FrYeKNAQnORz4oXaGPLicZZWqW_wIuR2mBKJcuXJoQv8vRd7Xe3WEABAzrZNLXtJlh9gOcOo8Cly1iUqAv_7gbbcGb6f1byQfO3ACmS8Nr0D-fU/s1600/IMG_1107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHoyQ1GFLvNJe-EwdGaYTV0Ui9mv39FrYeKNAQnORz4oXaGPLicZZWqW_wIuR2mBKJcuXJoQv8vRd7Xe3WEABAzrZNLXtJlh9gOcOo8Cly1iUqAv_7gbbcGb6f1byQfO3ACmS8Nr0D-fU/s320/IMG_1107.JPG" width="239" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I don't remember exactly where the shift came—two or three miles into the ride, maybe. The rain had stopped, and even though it was still overcast, the air was so clear. A sweet, light breeze was carrying me along, and I felt like I was wrapped in sheets of freshly laundered air—transported in a moving oasis. Suddenly everything was so beautiful, and I was soaking in every changing leaf color, every molecule of oxygen, and every jolting walnut that created an obstacle course on the bike path. Watching a fishing boat on Lake Monona with the backdrop of Frank Lloyd Wright's Monona Terrace was the perfect coda as the distance wound down. That, and having the sense of you, my friends, along sharing the experience and intrinsic to the beauty.</span><br />
</br><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Into the dark night of my yearning<br />
Came Beauty with her burning grace.<br />
She so humble, and I so blind,<br />
I did not recognize God's face.<br />
<br />
'Tis God I seek," I told her plainly,<br />
"And I my friend, do bring God's love."<br />
"But I am searching for God's glory."<br />
"Alas, I only bring God's love."<br />
<br />
Then Beauty knelt and dropped her veil,<br />
And looked so deep into my eyes.<br />
Her glance revealed God's mystery<br />
Removing every false disguise.<br />
<br />
Her tale was like a timeless flame<br />
That set my heart within aglow.<br />
With gratitude I bent my head<br />
For there was nothing left to know.<br />
<br />
When Beauty rose and turned to leave,<br />
I called to her with soul-felt pain,<br />
"Where shall I look if I should lose thee?"<br />
And then, my friend, she said your name.<br />
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-Elizabeth Rechtschaffen</i></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VVmUb6v43oM" width="560"></iframe>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123570841407422565.post-89389827455872778672011-09-26T23:11:00.020-05:002011-09-27T13:15:35.776-05:00Day 17: It was a dark and stormy day<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 17 miles to/from work: 29.5<br />
Total miles for S4S: 436.8</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNosJjO-_gKyfGxlrFVsqcpnM-MfhY740QpbkwhG6e2QibzzHsb6cq_M3dLg23W1mhxbPT8K1_ldYO7FiNFaBah9Xes7f3K421QjNeft5h4obW-RxxEDgPzTxnPGrhsnSptN89aiHbxI/s1600/Forecast.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNosJjO-_gKyfGxlrFVsqcpnM-MfhY740QpbkwhG6e2QibzzHsb6cq_M3dLg23W1mhxbPT8K1_ldYO7FiNFaBah9Xes7f3K421QjNeft5h4obW-RxxEDgPzTxnPGrhsnSptN89aiHbxI/s320/Forecast.jpeg" width="234" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> It was early yesterday evening when Scott started taking on the persona of Malthus, Prophet of Weather Doom, suggesting immense amounts of rain and Every Reason Not to Bike to Work. I wore my "Uh-huh" Bland Look and continued packing my bike panniers and swim bag (knowing there was no way in hell I was going to get up early enough to go to swim, but it felt good to go through the motions). Did I mention that the panniers are waterproof?</span><br />
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</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhvRzBLKIIRtXIpLGwplFbjNfpqsKA1xt6AD-Rie7GBMicqX21H7oZNr8XtjFa4Po03aC_kR4Gg0FBeHkAWA4I3fBJ82CUUg-7YPA5U2D8P5Q33nkqlhthrvEDYiD7KOOFGv4z-YLnmw/s1600/IMG_1065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhvRzBLKIIRtXIpLGwplFbjNfpqsKA1xt6AD-Rie7GBMicqX21H7oZNr8XtjFa4Po03aC_kR4Gg0FBeHkAWA4I3fBJ82CUUg-7YPA5U2D8P5Q33nkqlhthrvEDYiD7KOOFGv4z-YLnmw/s240/IMG_1065.jpg" width="234" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> I'm a sound sleeper, but even I could hear the beating the roof was taking from heavy rains throughout the night. When I got up at 6:30, rain continuing, Scott mumbled, "I'm sure I heard thunder." (There was none.) I replied, "Uh-huh," as I stumbled into the shower. A bit later as I was in the kitchen fixing coffee, Malthus implored me not to bike today, pulling his trump card and citing the possibility of hypothermia. (We're talking mid-50s temps, not Arctic ice floes.) Finally, I turned The Look on him. Yes, That Look. The one that packs several g-forces and sent my sweet husband to his office saying, "Okay, I won't say any more."<br />
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I must admit, despite The Look, I appreciate his loving concern. Until I met Scott, I was used to pretty much looking after my own survival; and it's amazing I made it this long. (Further proof that only the good die young.) And it really was the kind of day that I want someone to say, "Don't do that," because they care. That doesn't mean I'll listen, of course. My father's conditioning of "You hired out to be tough, didn'tcha?" so <i>far</i> predates that and has integrated at a cellular level, it gives "Be careful" little or no chance.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEUSR5qSG1qpH6VU6mjWmv9fU7sTV6Qj0UkNepZuL1780JqSr6AQD5g2zCD9ZbimBxWAWNg5YHc3cCRoNzURv7v_-p4fgqt5_7Hab9vbsitO36KVwWIwlXIcMaG5j9UfcZ0rQLNlSAgs/s1600/IMG_1063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEUSR5qSG1qpH6VU6mjWmv9fU7sTV6Qj0UkNepZuL1780JqSr6AQD5g2zCD9ZbimBxWAWNg5YHc3cCRoNzURv7v_-p4fgqt5_7Hab9vbsitO36KVwWIwlXIcMaG5j9UfcZ0rQLNlSAgs/s320/IMG_1063.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> I set out with my waterproof panniers, old nylon rain pants, and new Novara rain jacket (guaranteed to be waterproof <i>and</i> breathable, giving me limited hope that it would be better than my other so-called waterproof/breathable rain jacket, which offers the experience of being inside a wet oven set to <i>Broil</i>). Oh... and swim goggles. Sunglasses are worse than useless in rain. Goggles seemed liked the perfect solution. They weren't. By the time Silver Beauty and I got about a mile down the road, my visibility would have been rated as "legally blind"; and I decided that full-tilt boogie rain in the face was a better choice. However, the new rain jacket waterproofed and breathed splendidly as advertised.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOo6YwKiNJqqCEPh21HcjFDoBK2I5WWE2PZKXTZFTN8dCZJLkvae7Of8HVx25F4uzT-pcJCkmE3OtMktnMedAW5CaZ30qhYqjNvqjg46I3PpPpNewo0mf9_PYmpguHBtMdX-0rK3UdIAA/s1600/IMG_1069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOo6YwKiNJqqCEPh21HcjFDoBK2I5WWE2PZKXTZFTN8dCZJLkvae7Of8HVx25F4uzT-pcJCkmE3OtMktnMedAW5CaZ30qhYqjNvqjg46I3PpPpNewo0mf9_PYmpguHBtMdX-0rK3UdIAA/s320/IMG_1069.jpg" width="202" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">At times the wind created a sideways, driving rain; and at others, it was a gentle patter that was almost pleasant. It was all an adventure, and there wasn't a single moment that I wished I were anywhere else than pedaling in this "weather event". I also got great pleasure in thinking about Dave and Monte paying double for their DCHS pledge today. Heh-heh-heh. Oh wait, it's all for the animals. No personal gratification here. Really! Okay, there is a <i>ton</i> of personal gratification in so many ways; but I am also thrilled that every pedal stroke, every raindrop in my face, and every mile that passes translates to help for animals, people, and people and their animals. Thank you again for being part of this wonderful venture that means so much to so many.<br />
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When I got to work, drenched from the waist down because the rain pants suck, but dry where the new jacket protected me, and generally pleased with the whole experience, I called Scott to let him know I had safely evaded the ravages of the weather and wild-eyed motorists. (Pay no attention to the woman who blew the red light on Monroe Street and almost mowed me down.)</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPG6jNCIPqtzyE25Y8WBzIjQuNNI4-HHM70HDNjwvtiws6Y2e6PIUOLtHKoheXt4PJ0gkgOJFdag3HNIJ2LDvmYYzo87BaMI4GFY7_51z_oCJtOjHBPli4bg_UfPHApt5o_R0IFeBEIcw/s1600/IMG_1074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPG6jNCIPqtzyE25Y8WBzIjQuNNI4-HHM70HDNjwvtiws6Y2e6PIUOLtHKoheXt4PJ0gkgOJFdag3HNIJ2LDvmYYzo87BaMI4GFY7_51z_oCJtOjHBPli4bg_UfPHApt5o_R0IFeBEIcw/s320/IMG_1074.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Going home involved a small detour to see Coach Petra at Speed Cycling and pick up some bike wear I'd ordered. I had planned to join her final "Monday Night Ladies' Ride" of the year, but decided I didn't want to brave the bike paths from Speed (different than my usual route) after dark. The homeward bound weather was ominous, windy, spitty, and cold—but still oddly enjoyable. It nevertheless felt wonderful to get home to a hot bath, and to let My Protector know that all is well.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Our Lady of Forever Homeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18363243971247698917noreply@blogger.com1