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Ugly cry. Well, almost.
Ugly cry. Well, almost.
A few years ago, I penned a post about ugly crying while mountain biking. I was working with a coach at the time and he took me out of my comfort zone. The outer limits at that time involved a steep incline with a sharp hairpin turn to the right followed by an equally steep descent. There was no backside or opposite side of the hill. It was climb, turn, descend. If you made a misstep you wereâŠ
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Outriding Fear
Salvation â preservation or deliverance fromâŠ
synonyms: lifeline, preservation, conservation
I canât think of a more apropos word to express how riding a bike impacts me and my life. Riding is joy, of course. Riding is health. Riding is nature and beauty and peace. But, itâs so much more than this, too. Riding is my salvation. It affords me the much-needed opportunity to outride all the fearsâŠ
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Inspire me.
When I first began riding a little over four years ago, Strava was a relatively new thing in our neck of the woods but was gaining popularity rapidly. Likewise, there werenât a lot of women riding single track,at least to the degree we have now. When I first began riding, there were a handful of women I knew of locally (Palm Beach County) that burned up the trails. I was always star struck whenâŠ
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Summer Break Back in the Saddle
Summer Break Back in the Saddle
Boy, have I missed this. Until this past school year, these commutes played such a huge part in our daily lives. Not being able to ride our bikes to school (because of the distance) is a sacrifice Iâm willing to make in order for J-man to attend a suitable school.
Iâve blogged extensively in the pastabout the role these biking commutes played in our lives during J-manâs first few years ofâŠ
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CycloFemme 2019
Twenty. Thatâs the number of stoked women of all skill levels and riding abilities who joined me on a ride I organized last weekend. Some of these women traveled well in excess of 100 miles each way, to participate in this 8:00AM ride.
This is the second year Iâve hosted a CycloFemme ride, and the 8th year the organization has been encouraging women to âband together and celebrate collectiveâŠ
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Auto Draft
Squad Up
  âSquad up!â was a phrase heard frequently during a recent school field trip. It was music to my ears.
Last week, I accompanied my son along with 10 of his fellow fourth-grade students and their parents on an overnight trip to St. Augustine. I had fun, yes, but the greatest takeaway for me was watching my son interact with his pals. It was a lovely sight to behold.
Iâve written inâŠ
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Tales From the Trails
Tales From the Trails
This past weekend, I participated in my fourth Club Scrub Growlerâa grueling yet extremely scenic off-road ride that takes place annually here in South Florida. This was the first year my other half wasnât able to join me. My plan was to hook up with someone, as I knew many friends would be riding. As fate would have it, that didnât pan out, and I was okay with that. Iâm accustomed to being aâŠ
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Gleaning Day
Today, my son and I participated in a gleaning field trip with his school. When I mentioned the upcoming field trip to people in the days leading up to the event, most people didnât know what the term gleaning meant in relation to harvesting crops.
Gleaning is the act of collecting leftover crops from farmersâ fields after they have been commercially harvested or on fields where it is notâŠ
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What's to love?
Whatâs to love?
Let you tell you a brief story that paints a perfect illustration of what I love most about riding.
This morning, I was headed for a solo ride. Let me elaborate. It was going to be a solo ride because Iâm a really poor planner. Had I told someone to meet me at 8 or 9AM this morning (as I thought to do), they wouldâve been waiting on me. Why? Because I didnât leave my house until 9:05AM.âŠ
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Fixer
Roughly 892 miles as the crow (and airplane) flies, thatâs the distance we recently traveled for a second opinion for J-manâs epilepsy. Judging by the reaction to this news by many folks, this may seem extreme, but Cincinnati Childrenâs Hospital and Medical Centeris one of the top-ranked hospitals for pediatric neurology and neurosurgery for serious neurological problems such as epilepsy, headâŠ
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Women.
We come in all shapes, sizes and skin tones. We hail from every far-flung corner of this earth. We are daughters, sisters, mothers, grandmothers, great (and great-great) grandmothers, aunts, nieces, wives, husbands, friends and neighbors. We have different faiths, beliefs and come from vast socio-economic backgrounds. We are many things to many people.
We share common elements of DNA. We are allâŠ
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Reality Check
You are never too old to remind yourself that your validation does not rest in someone elseâs acceptance of you. I love the adage, âWhat you think of me is none of my business.â As simple as this statement should be to remember, I oftentimes struggle to recall this simple pearl of wisdom.
Also, never, ever, not for one single solitary minute, expect what you did yesterday to account for somethingâŠ
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âHer life was not an easy life. She experienced heartache and hardship, but it was a life well lived.â This is a phrase I found myself repeating to mourners who came to pay their final respects at my motherâs funeral this week.
Iâve penned more than one post in the past (As is the mother, so is her daughter. Ez. 16:44, Happy Special Birthday, A Very Special Motherâs Day) that offered a glimpse into my motherâs 86 years on this earth.
The Great Depression. The deaths of two husbands and one infant daughter. Life as a widow raising four childrenâtwo of whom gave her more than her deserved share of trouble (yours truly among them). The deaths of both parents and five siblingsâthree sisters and two brothers. Decades plagued by the effects of emphysema (chief among themâa susceptibility for pneumonia). Cancer. These are a sampling of challenges my mother faced in her 86 years and seven months this side of heaven.
 Love. Laughter.  Family.  True, genuine, nurturing and caring friendships. Travel. A 25-year career working for folks who werenât only employers but dear friends as well. Secure knowledge in her place in heaven upon departing this earth. These are the things that made for a life well lived.
The Queen of Caffeine indeed.
Ruth Ann Cassella; Â born January 6, 1931 â died August 4, 2017, following a life well lived
A Life Well Lived âHer life was not an easy life. She experienced heartache and hardship, but it was a life well lived.â This is a phrase I found myself repeating to mourners who came to pay their final respects at my motherâs funeral this week.
Mission Accomplished
Throwing it back today to a hill that had me so terrified I burst into tears and ugly cried for five full minutes after I tackled it successfully (following several failed (BAILED) attempts). Sometimes simply facing your fears is accomplishment enough, irrespective of the final outcome.Â
You are stronger, braver, fiercer and wiser than you give yourself credit for. Â Believe that.Â
B~
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Have you ever met someone so unassumingly tough that when they demonstrate their power and might your jaw hits the floor? Thatâs how I feel about my mom. Iâve penned a few blog posts about my mother over the years, so this statement may not come as a shock to many of you. I, however, continue to be amazed by this gutsy octogenarianâs exploits.
Shortly after her 86th birthday this past January, my mom was diagnosed with small cell carcinoma (lung cancer). I donât think this was truly a shock to anyone. A former tobacco smoker, my mom has emphysema and a history of severe bouts of pneumonia. The ultimate diagnosis, however, was perhaps more devastating to me than to my mom. When I questioned her as to how she felt following the initial diagnosis, my mom said, âItâs going to be what it is. If Saint Peter opens the gates for me, then Iâm ready.â That peaceâher peaceâbecame my peace. There was no other way for me to accept the circumstances at hand.
So, here we are four months later, and my mom just completed her prescribed round of chemotherapy yesterday, May 11th. Additionally, she began radiation treatmentsâa prescribed course of thirty treatments to take place twice daily over the course of fifteen weekdays. The first two days of radiation piggybacked her final two days (6 hours and 2 hours, respectively) of chemotherapy. I donât know about you, but this schedule is daunting to even me. But you know whatâmy mother handled it like Muhammad Ali handled Sonny Liston. I am awestruck.
Something and someone else I need to make mention of in this Motherâs Day tribute is my sister, Karen. She has been a steadfast anchor for my mom for not only the past few months, but for years. She is there, day in and day out, meeting what needs my proud mother sees fitting to share. As a matter of course, she has always been there to tend the flowers and lawn in summer and snow-covered driveway in winter as well as all needs that fall outside of my strong (feisty) motherâs capabilities in seasons between. But since my motherâs cancer diagnosis, my sisterâs responsibilities have grown exponentially. She is the keeper of myriad appointments, the sole source of transportation to and from the many appointments, and the general caretaker of all things beyond my motherâs abilities. Donât misconstrue this, however. I am certainly not insinuating my mother is incapable, because she absolutely is not, which amazes me, but I digressâŠ
A well-deserved celebration
Karen and and my mom
Jubilation
So, as we approach this Motherâs Day, Iâm giving my biggest, loudest shout out to my mom for her continued desire, willingness and ability to kick ass. (Yes, I cursed; butt just didnât sound as effective. #eyeroll) Happy Motherâs Day, mom. You are amazing! Youâve put forth enormous (literally and figuratively) shoes to fill. I hope to leave this life one day as a fraction of the woman and mother you are.
A Very Special Motherâs Day Have you ever met someone so unassumingly tough that when they demonstrate their power and might your jaw hits the floor?Â
Unless...
UnlessâŠ
This. Â This photo right here. Â You have no idea what this photo represents to G and me. Â
Unless you have a child who has difficulties interpreting and comprehending the subtle nuances of social interaction, you more than likely donât understand the magnitude of this photo.  Unless you have a child who doesnât âgetâ the give and take of social interaction, this photo probably seems mundane.âŠ
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Beauty is in the Eye of the BeholderÂ
This morning I took a little ride along a canal I frequently traverse.  The canal runs parallel to an exclusive golf and country club.  Although Iâve never been in this particular club, I can see quite a bit of the golf courseâs perfectly manicured fairways and greens from my vantage point.  The pristine landscape doesnât hold a candle to an untended hedgerow of bougainvillea that runs along theâŠ
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