Help a little

We have a new bike skills area in one of the local parks. I helped with this, at least a little. I attended half of 3 different work parties. I contributed some money to help buy a tree for landscaping. Of the two, the monetary contribution was the easiest, and it got my name on the sign in bigger typeface (name on the sign twice!), the irony of which is not lost on me.

The work parties ran from 8 to noon; I would arrive around 10, and stay to the end. There’s the little voice in my head saying I could do more. And I could have done more; you can always do more. It occurred to me when I was out there last that I also could have done less. Because if I stayed for 4 hours and really didn’t enjoy it, it would be easy to justify not coming the next time; heck, I went to a work party, what more can anyone demand? Showing up for half the time and putting a good effort meant coming back 3 times and putting in over 6 hours. Not only more than staying home, but more than just one work party.

And I don’t mean to boast here — I’m a slacker on this stuff and I know it. There are folks who put in 3 full work parties worth and gave larger sum of money to boot. All I’m trying to say is, I can see how easy it would have been to just skip it. Stay home. Read a book. Go hiking. Do something I find more rewarding. Showing up for half is sure-as-heck not showing up for the whole thing. But it is better, tons better, than doing nothing.

Figure out where you can help a little. Then help a little. Don’t give it up for not good enough.

Being the Bad Guy

So I was the bad guy today. Last week’s bike ride was fun, but resulted in about a half hour or maybe even 40 minutes of five of us riding in the dark, where two of us had full sets of lights, two had taillights, and one had nothing. The time before that with this group, we had a flat and got back into the dusk, and I recall that I either turned on my lights or wished I had them with me.

My experience with the other group, the mountain bikers, has been that we haven’t yet gotten back before dark resulting in some fairly scary rides for me.

So for tonight’s ride, I commented that everyone should bring lights, or buy lights, or let me know and I can bring an extra set for them.

Reply: we’ll be back before dark.

My reply: yeah, but one flat tire or person not going fast enough and you are out after dark.

It was clear I stepped on some toes.

Part of me feels bad about that; we did get back before dark tonight. But part of me says hey, c’mon, bringing lights when we are quickly running out of daylight is just a sensible idea. People make mistakes. People get flats. And asking participants on a ride to wear a helmet or bring lights just in case is not an unreasonable burden, even if your plan is to be back in time.

I know I’m just the newbie here, and so I don’t get credit for 12 years experience of leading my own rides. No one knows or cares what a League Cycling Instructor is and using the credential to bolster the argument is arguing from authority, which isn’t right either. That frustrates me. It also frustrates me to see the rejection of sensibility in mitigating risk. We might get delayed beyond what we expect. So we prepare for the eventuality.

So internally there is the discomfort between not being the bad guy, and knowing that it is my belief that yes, I am willing to be the bad guy on this issue. It’s not a nice place to sit. While I hope I am constantly learning wisdom on how best to handle people in these situations, I hope I am also willing to state what someone or no one wants to hear when it is the truth, and it matters.

Lessons learned geocaching and mountain biking

Lessons learned while geocaching

  1. Just because you know where it is, doesn’t mean you can find it.
  2. A good question to ask is, if I were the person hiding it, where would I put it? I.e. put yourself in the other person’s shoes.
  3. A GPS (or any fancy piece of equipment) can only help you so much. After that, you are on your own.
  4. Sometimes we all get functionally fixed on something, and can’t see what else is there. If you aren’t finding what you are looking for, think differently about the situation.
  5. Persistence pays off. You may not have your out-of-the-box thought the first time you try, so don’t be afraid to go home and return. Keep at it.
  6. If you really are getting frustrated, ask a friend for a hint or help.
  7. There are a lot of interesting things around you that you’d otherwise never notice.

Lessons learned while mountain biking

  1. There’s nothing wrong with riding up and down the curb in front of your house until you are comfortable with how your bike handles obstacles. I.e. don’t worry about starting small and taking baby steps forward.
  2. Uphill is hard. Keep at it, and you will improve. But know when you need to stop and catch your breath. Or get off and walk.
  3. There’s no shame in walking something that’s beyond your ability level. Better safe than sorry.
  4. You probably won’t get hurt much when you are starting out and scared of everything. You will get hurt when you develop competence and confidence and start riding at your limit. And if you are going to continue, you do have to get back on the bike.
  5. Downhill is fun, but downhill can be scary. If you’re going to ride it and not walk it, get your butt behind the seat, go easy on the brakes, and trust your bike. I.e. you don’t have absolute control. You have to give up some of your desire to control completely in order to have any control at all. (Think: controlled fall. But it is a fall. If you let it, your bike will do its best to take care of you.)
  6. If you can’t stand getting bruised, you are in the wrong sport. But who wanted to be a swimsuit model anyhow?
  7. Listen to your body; it will tell you the difference between minor bruises and really hurt.
  8. Listen to your brain/spirit. It will tell you when you need to take a moment because your fear is taking over your ability to perform.
  9. If you listen to yourself, and take care of yourself, you will find that your fears and anxiety lessen, and that falls that don’t result in real injuries become much less frightening.
  10. Ice is nice. If you know you’re bruised, put a cold pack on it. Take care of yourself.
  11. Persistence pays. Just keep riding, and you will grow stronger and more skillful.
  12. Every fall has a lesson. Make sure you take the time to learn it.

I came off my bike twice tonight. The first time was annoying, but I knew I was fine. The second time, I know I hit the ground pretty hard. I knew I wasn’t really physically hurt; I’d have a bruise, but nothing really wrong. My brain, however, wasn’t having such an easy time of it. I had to sit for a few minutes to pull myself together, because that fall scared me pretty badly.

The one and only panic attack I have had was on a mountain bike ride. There was a rocky, cliffside trail, and eventually, I did, indeed, take a fall down the rocky downhill side. I was bruised up, but not otherwise physically damaged. I was also in a race, and I felt obligated to push forward to get the best time I could. A few minutes later, I was having problems breathing, and it had nothing to do with how hard I was riding. My brain, logically and calmly, analyzed the situation, and informed me that I was having a panic attack. A part of me was all fascination: it’s true that you can’t breathe when you are having a panic attack! The logical part was very calm and said I had to get off the bike, sit quietly, and calm down. It was like I was partially outside of myself observing what was happening. All while something in me was panicking so badly it was taking away my ability to breathe. I wonder if I scared the corner marshall I came across at that time. I took a seat in his chair while I steadied myself. I walked almost every obstacle after that. My nerves were shot, and I knew it.

The terrain, loose dirt and rock, which was skeetering my bike around, plus the dark, did my anxiety level no good for the fall tonight. Four rides in three different places do not get you used to the way mountain bikes handle on different types of trail. I had a light, and that helped, but it wasn’t enough.

Two of the guys on the ride tonight came back to check on me after that second fall. I couldn’t even speak. I realized if I tried, I was going to just start crying. I figured they would appreciate it if I resisted. I held up my index fingers in the universal sign for “give me a minute”. It was hard to breathe, and hard to choke back those tears. If I had been with friends I might have just had my cry and gotten it done with. Those two, more sensible than perhaps they realized, just restarted their conversation and left me be to take care of myself. Which was probably easier when I didn’t feel like I was the center of attention. That didn’t take long, although it felt long for a few moments there. I was lucky, we were almost to the end of the trail; after I pulled myself together, there wasn’t much more riding for me to do. It still took a solid half hour to an hour after we got back in our vehicles and drove down from the trail head until I stopped feeling shaky and scared.

Mountain biking is like that, at least for me. The places I go are peaceful and beautiful. And the trail demands all of my attention, so no worrying about this or that or the other thing while I am riding. It’s almost like meditation in that I have to have a singular focus. I ride my bike and do nothing but ride my bike. I am constantly growing, not just in strength, but in skill. I learn how to do more and more as I go on. But it’s not without its price. I do fall off sometimes, no major injuries, but plenty of ugly bruises and, in the past, I’ve had an occasional lasting sprain or strain. It’s certainly not fun to get hurt, but there’s something fundamental that I learn about who I am by getting knocked around a little. Every fall has a lesson, if I stop to observe, think, and learn it. I won’t do Gu; I don’t do sleep deprivation, or working so hard I vomit. But I will continue to do this. Sometimes I wish I could skip this part, the being scared more than the falling off, but I know I am learning a lot, and growing, and that is why I signed up for this.

Assume nothing and open your heart to embrace the good

Dear Student 1,

We took you to brunch today, wanting to give you, if nothing else, another experience of two functional adults in your life who care about you and who are checking in with you to make sure everything is okay. Curious about your life and wishing you the best.

No, you aren’t going to pay for the meal when you are out with us. Pay it forward, to your kids if you have them. To some other struggling young person you encounter later in life. We can’t fix our pasts. We can’t fix your present. We can only try to give to you some of those things we wish we’d had back then, most especially some older adults who just like you and who are willing to go to bat for you.

We talked for a while about the future. My friend talked about finding a place to settle down; that was important to him. And me, what would I advise? I would advise you to expect nothing. It is nice to have a place where you are settled down, but you may not get that. Just when I’ve thought I’ve settled into a place, there has been a reason for me to leave it.

The biggest disappointments I have had are the things I always assumed I get, and didn’t. Assume nothing, except that life is going to be difficult. You will struggle, but you will find your path. It will be hard. That you can assume. Plan for adversity in the future so you can take care of yourself if the worst case happens. But don’t plan out the rest too much; allow yourself to walk through with open eyes and open arms for opportunities and people you will want to embrace.

And if you ever feel stuck and discouraged, try not to be afraid to change. Your worst moments will make your best stories — trust me on this — once they stop hurting you so much. You just have to get through them.

You can have a run of bad luck that goes on for months or years, but if you can just hang on, you can come out the other side.

And in the meantime, no matter what you do, no matter where you are, no matter where I am, if you need someone, please call. If you want to share some success, please call. Just keep my number handy for those moments, and know every time I will be glad to hear from you. I know I’m not your Mom. I’m not anyone’s Mom (that was one thing I wished for my future that I didn’t get). But if I can be your next best thing, I hope you know I’ll try my guts out for you.

With love,

Dr. Jinx (who hopes that word won’t freak you out)

(And, yes, I’m going to ask you and my male friend/partner in crime to lunch or something again in a few weeks and keep doing this until you are convinced that here we are and we mean it and we aren’t going anywhere.)

*****************

From Student 2:

Dr. Jinx,

I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for the amount of work you put into teaching us Linear Algebra.

Let me first say, this is in no way an attempt to “suck-up” or any such effort. My grade will be earned fairly regardless of any fallacious tactics to woo over a professor. 🙂

I just know how important it is to let those you contribute so much to your education know they are doing an excellent job. I feel I begin the homework and other assigned work with much more confidence and understanding of the material. This is highly due to the material you have provided (i.e. reading guided note taking, online notes from class for reference, posted solutions, and availability outside of class.) Take my absence from your office hours as a sign that you have taught well enough that there is no need for outside assistance.

Expect to see a high score earned on my first Exam!

Thank you!

Dear Student 2,

You had no way of knowing what I’d be doing today. I was out on my bike and started to have an anxiety attack. I cut the ride somewhat short to get back home for some medication, and along with the medication I found your note.

Thank you for helping to lift me out of that funk of self-doubt, where I am afraid that everything in the world is wrong and me along with it. I wonder sometimes how many of you are hating me for teaching a hard class, even though I know an easy one won’t serve you well in the future. I feel guilty for all the times I’ve had to be gone this semester. For struggling to find time to give you. For not working further ahead, taking each day as it comes, doing what I can, and hoping it is enough. For not being able to give you a better big picture of this wondrous subject we are learning. For not having time enough to explain all the examples, and resorting to the advice that you read them in the book.

Because there it is, at the end of the day, if you are enjoying learning, I know what I’ve done has mattered. I can’t make math into a video game (at least, I haven’t figured out how yet), but at the same time, it shouldn’t be torture. Little puzzles to figure out, one after another.

Thank you for your thanks. Today it meant the world to me. And I did print out what you said, cut it out, and tack it onto the bulletin board by my desk.

And, for darn sure, you better ace that exam.

Sincerely,

Dr. Jinx

A picture of strength and grace

A rain lily to represent how I am feeling.

Right after Christmas, I had breakfast with two bicycling friends from Austin. I didn’t think about it at the time, but the three of us, in larger and smaller ways, have all struggled or are struggling with spiritual wounds. One friend’s wife passed away suddenly about a year ago. The other was denied tenure at his university in the cruelest possible way. He was passed by the department and the dean and then denied by the president of the university. He’s still working in the same department as a senior lecturer. Me, I lost an important relationship this past spring.

We talked about a myriad of things. Bicycling. Loss. Continuing forward. Still being angry. Things we hope for the future. The good things about our lives right now. How much it hurts.

I didn’t think about it when I made the invitation, but the one thing I took away from that breakfast was a picture of strength and grace. What I saw in my two friends, dealing with their situations, is how I want to deal with the adversity in my life. I would beg not to be sent that much pain. But if I am, that is how I want to I deal with it.

A tangle with grief

“Grant us, in our direst need, the smallest gifts: the nail of the horseshoe, the pin of the axle, the feather at the pivot point, the pebble at the mountain’s peak, the kiss in despair, the one right word.” — Lois McMaster Bujold from Paladin of Souls.

I went to a bicycling event this weekend. The last time I went to it, two years ago, it was with someone that I cared for very much. He had just moved here after completing his degree and we had managed a cross-continental separation for two years. I was full of hope for us, that my hopes to find a life-partner were being realized.

This past spring, we split up, under circumstances that were considerably less than kind to me.

This past several weeks, things with him have been flitting in and out of my attention, usually when I’d rather they left me alone. Grief stirred up at bad times, and too many of them.

I’d hoped for a good trip to replace my old memories with some good ones, but that wish wasn’t granted.

I found myself sitting alone on Friday night, face distorted in a rictus of pain, trying not to scream or cry out loud, since I was indoor camping, and others were about. I finally took some anxiety medication in the hopes that it would help, and my one small gift was that it did take enough of the edge off that I could pull myself together, clean out my nose and clean up my face, write to try to do something with all the jacked up emotions, then read and eventually attempt to sleep.

I wonder if anyone noticed. I think some walked by and could have, but my eyes were shut as I tried to breathe through the pain. Someone did inquire solicitously about my ride the next day. Maybe. Maybe not.

The line-up for the ride resulted in more of the same, but I managed to pull together again before I had to start pedaling. My ride was mostly solitary. But, fortunately, calm.

I hope that I was processing grief. Getting it out. Putting it away, at least, in part. Getting through it.

I dread more. I am not sure how much more of that I can take.

Surely by now I am an expert in that kind of grief. Relationships end, and it is time to pick yourself up and move on. Somehow, when I was small, I never thought I would have to spend my life alone, but every passing year, that looks like a more and more likely present and future. How do you face this with courage?

None of the stories you read as a child prepare you for this. Little girls grow up and meet men of character and get married and have families. That’s what I wanted for myself too. We don’t flounder and flop around year after year after year after year looking and hoping, or trying to look and trying to hope. There is no script for this outcome. I have to write it myself, and I don’t know how.

Or maybe I do. One foot in front of the other, one step, one task, one day at a time. Breathe into the pain. Breathe into the loneliness. Make myself like a fountain, giving what I want to find, keeping nothing for myself, since these gifts cannot be hoarded or saved for later. I do not get the choice in what I find from others. The only choice I have, anyone has, is how to treat everyone else, and how I react to what I am given.

It all seems empty. But at least for this moment I have calm.

Beautiful bicycling

It was a beautiful weekend for bicycling. Cooler, clear, light winds, from a less-common direction, which got us out on routes we don’t often get to do.

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Saturday we started late and sought cheeseburgers from a small country store. Delicious, and worth the warm trip home. Eased by a tail wind.

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Sunday, a guest joined me on the tandem, and we met with friends and had a nice ride. Faster than I intended; that tandem can move.

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Sometimes you just have to be grateful for what nature hands you.