Bracing for impact, in the best way possible.

A new year approaches quickly! Ride out and tell your friends. Tell them to brace for spectacular moments, and the darkest of times, highs and lows, and the stark beauty that comes at extremes and in between, in the gray moments between the black and the white.

I'm hard put to give up this Christmas season. It has been the best Christmas ever, in spite of the sadness leading up to it. And yet, in that sadness, we all came together, loved each other, and spent time together in a place we normally don't. And we all went back to our homes to rush into the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. Paul captured my heart in the most amazing way possible... with my love for a bike, and with wonderment at his giving heart. Hobbes was his sweet Christmas self, and we spent time with all our loved ones, and it was beautiful.

But that's sort of the way this year has been. At the beginning of the year, and felt like I was falling apart physically. As the days turned into weeks, though, I grew into someone I never knew I'd become. I love that life is like that, how we humans are never done growing and changing, morphing into someone new, as time goes by. It's precious, and while I know I complain, regularly and often, I'm enjoying the process of becoming me.

I made resolutions last year that I upheld. One, to rebuild my body. I actively pursued all possible methods, from nutrition to strength training, and while my body, much like my general person, is always changing and morphing, it's safe to say I'm stronger than I've ever been before. Second, on a related note, I resolved to go an entire year without heels, minus a few noted caveats. On this account, I never strayed, even though I was tempted a few times. My feet feel better... my legs feel better... I can't say I'll never wear uncomfortable footwear again, but my year without heels changed my outlook on how to dress.

I've tried new things this year, from skating to mountain biking, and even just riding with the fast kids. I've had dark moments, where parenting felt too hard, or when I felt I would never have a career. There have been bean burritos and steaks, margarita cupcakes, and caramel pies. Moments of question, and times of faith.

As I look to 2015, I wonder what it will hold. As for plans, resolutions, and ideas, here's what I have:

1. Blog twice monthly.
        Be willing to blog about things that aren't family or bike related. Understand that sometimes it might be hard, and that my writing may not be of the best quality, work hard, post anyway. Sometimes I tell people I'd like to write for a living. I can't do that if I'm not writing and honing my craft.

2. Read one book monthly.
        On a related note, if I want to write more and better, I need to read more, particularly writers with style, wit, and storytelling capabilities.

3. Meditate once daily.
        I feel like much of the stress I experience results from thoughts that I allow to hold me captive and a lack of willingness to step up to challenges, and alternately know when to step away and say no. I want to be able to approach life with a clear mind.

4. Ride 5000 miles for the year.

So, there you go. My resolutions. Some of them will be easier than others. Brace yourself for the amazing impact of 2015, when it comes barreling through your door on Wednesday night. Start Thursday feeling good about you, where you are, where you're going, and what there is in store. Start it with love in your heart.

... might be a third life crisis... or maybe the stirring in my soul...

Or some shit like that. Thanks Mr. Mayer for the lyrics that I poorly abused.

I'm too old for Mayer's "quarter life crisis," and too young for a midlife crisis. And yet, I feel a creeping, anxious sensation, a little (obnoxious... high-decibel...) voice telling me my life isn't where it should be, isn't what it should resemble. I look at my friends, with so much going on with their things that involve the words professional and career, and what I do pales by comparison. I'm a community organizer whose performance is iffy at best. I blog to a tiny audience, and I'd be terrified to take it further. I'm a mom to the sweetest, cutest boy on the block, but that doesn't bring home any proverbial bacon. I ride bikes, but I'm not an amazing cyclist. I'm doing nothing show stopping... in spite of the fact that I really think I am an individual with intellect, wit, a personable person with lots of talent and a wide range of interests.

But I try to look up when that voice gets too loud, and remind myself to be patient, and that really, things are good. I remember that I have years and years ahead of me to try lots of different doors and find the right one, even though it isn't open right now. Sometimes I think there are people who wake up the morning they turn 18 and know what they want to do with their lives. I don't think I did. I had ideas, like I always do... but most of that revolved around my desire to travel and look at art, and to write about that. Before that, I wanted to be a geologist. After that, an artist, then a horse trainer, then an ag teacher. Finally, I settled on International Relations, mostly because I love to write and enjoy the interaction on the international stage. I also wanted to make a difference in the world... that bit... that lack of making a difference on a grand scale... that's the hardest to work through.

I try to look up and see the amazing things I do now that I would never have imagined back then. The things I've seen travelling with the family I never planned. The feelings I've felt, parenting or climbing a mountain on my bike. The freedom to compose whatever I want to, and share it with the world. All this freedom comes at a cost, and some days that cost feels expensive.

I don't have a professional life, one of established knowledge. Mostly, my life consists of dragging my hands along a long wall in the dark, in search of an elusive light switch. I have no clue what I'm doing usually.  Often, I feel like I'm doing a disservice to my expensive and expansive education.

Then I see the way I can parent and teach our boy because of my broad range of learning. He already communicates in very simple French. He learns about different types of rocks and the way they are formed. He knows how to ride a bike, and has a heart of empathy. I'm able to wake up most mornings and decide what our day will hold, with flexibility to achieve my own small goals along the way. I have the chance to work in my community to help others. I have lots of blank spaces to fill in, and lots of time to madlib and adlib. I didn't grow up at 18. Why am I in a rush?

Why do I have to complicate my life?

The swirl of feelings and emotions that are the basis of my thoughts can suck it. I'm where I am, where I'm supposed to be. I'm growing, blooming late. When most of my peers have seemingly ended their age of self discovery and moved on to self knowledge, I'm still changing, learning, gaining knowledge, experiencing metamorphoses. I'm alright with that. That voice... that little, shrill, irritating, doubtful jessie inside... she can go to hell.

It's Not NYE, But Let's Go Retro

... retrospective, that is. Because I like progress like a pregnant woman likes ice cream. My husband also likes ice cream. He is not pregnant...

A year ago, last Thursday, I was in a serious wreck... I became a serious wreck. I shambled into Thanksgiving dinner and probably made my poor Grandmother worry more about me than she already likely does.

I hit a dog, and was subsequently terrified of dogs for months.

I was already afraid. Something about being chased by forty pound dogs that look shockingly like the Monty Python fluffy bunny will give you the heebie jeebies if you don't have your emotions and mental state under wraps. Add to that hitting a dog while flying down the hill at 20 mph (a slow roll down a hill, really...), and you'll have a girl with a serious case of cynophobia.

I spent months riding around with dog spray in my pocket, until I realized a few things... it was a crutch, I needed to get my head on straight, and that it didn't always even work that great. Honestly, the scenario usually plays out like-a-so:

Riding along, approaching a house where I already know there's a dog. It's in the flats... I know I can outrun the dog, or deal with it properly, but there goes my heart rate on its little escalator to the stars, just the same. Grab dog spray from jersey pocket. See dog running at me. Freak out. Start spraying early. Ride... through... pepper spray. I can't tell you how many times I did that this summer... one day I went and climbed a mountain nearby with lips that felt like they must resemble Angelina Jolie's. The preemptive strikes hurt me more than the stupid dogs.

Ouch? Ouch.

I can only think of one time where the dog spray actually saved me from dismemberment. I deployed that shit right into a doberman's face as a climbed a hill. But that's an outlier... right?

So now that I'm riding "unarmed," so to say, am I on high alert all the time? No. I think I'm likely calmer and more collected. I try to keep my head on and react properly, instead of worrying about the dog that lies ahead, with its "sharp, pointy teeth." (Thanks again, to MP for that visual.) It's also one less item to jam into my jersey pockets, which are already on the small side. (I eat a lot on the bike... I gotta stash my food someplace...)

I always try to find the silver lining in the bad experiences... if there is one here, it's that the wreck eventually forced me to take control of my emotions and be calm in bad situations. It's a zen in the eye of the storm set of circumstances, where I have to calmly consider all possible actions and consequences in rapid time. I'm pretty sure there's a life lesson in there somewhere, if you dig really deeply, so maybe pull out your shovel.