Three months off long rides. Three months of no intervals. Three months of missing out on something that has become a big part of my personal identity. Three months of embarrassment at having let myself dig a hole so deep I couldn't seem to climb out. I know I have so much further to go on this walk-about.
I've learned a lot about myself though. I've learned that I won't give up on myself. That when I really care about the outcome of something, my work ethic is so good I will literally drive myself to madness. To the edge of sanity. I will give more than the expected 100%. If I can channel that sort of dedication into whatever I decide to do with my life someday, I think I can do big things.
I've learned to respect my body in a new way. My life on the bike taught me to respect my body as a well-oiled machine. Sometimes I forgot to perform maintenance like oil changes and tire rotations. Because when you're a person living separate from your body and what it can do, sometimes you don't invest in it like you should. So I'm up on the blocks now, getting overhauled. Expensive, time-consuming... But in my time off, I've spent time in introspection. I've given time to walks in the woods, to my yoga mat, to my family. I see a more well-rounded girl. I have a few extra pounds on me now, but I work hard to be gentle with myself and not berate my body. My body hasn't betrayed me. I betrayed my body, with too much work burden, and not enough time to relax and let it do the real work of repair, with not enough fuel to do so.
My respect for my body as a machine has evolved into respect for the body-soul complex. I'm more than a few pieces of bone strung together by muscle and sinew. I have a brain in my brain box, and I need to use it, and allow it to inform the things I do. In a way, I feel this taking me back to a paper I wrote in Intellectual History of Early Modern Europe, which dealt with the complexities of ideas of monster versus man, and the issue of AI, and questions of how one can tell the difference between man and machine. So what am I? Today, I say woman. I have come to accept my softness. But hopefully someday I can become the monster... An odd melding of (wo)man and machine. The perfect synthesis of humanity and mechanized parts. A monster can listen to its feedback; the machine can't do a thing but what it is told, until it breaks down. The monster can learn. The monster is more than a machine to be driven. It is driven.
But hey, I'm still a cyclist, still obsessed with numbers, data, and improvement. So where do I stand? My blood work improves, albeit slowly. Ferritin, hemoglobin, and white blood cells are slowly inching themselves into fair territory. While not at optimal levels, as long as I continue to make deposits into the Bank of Blood Health and TLC, I should be better in a few months. My hormones have a long way to go to be back to normal, and that'll be an ongoing effort on my part to eat well and relax. My Vitamin D numbers still aren't what they should be, but that will come around too.
So, at what I think it probably the half way point in my journey back to serious training, all I can say is, don't be the machine. Be the monster. Listen to the feedback and learn. Be smart, and be gentle when you need to be.
31 August, 2016
Overtraining Syndrome Update: Improvements, Lessons Learned
Three months off long rides. Three months of no intervals. Three months of missing out on something that has become a big part of my personal identity. Three months of embarrassment at having let myself dig a hole so deep I couldn't seem to climb out. I know I have so much further to go on this walk-about.
I've learned a lot about myself though. I've learned that I won't give up on myself. That when I really care about the outcome of something, my work ethic is so good I will literally drive myself to madness. To the edge of sanity. I will give more than the expected 100%. If I can channel that sort of dedication into whatever I decide to do with my life someday, I think I can do big things.
I've learned to respect my body in a new way. My life on the bike taught me to respect my body as a well-oiled machine. Sometimes I forgot to perform maintenance like oil changes and tire rotations. Because when you're a person living separate from your body and what it can do, sometimes you don't invest in it like you should. So I'm up on the blocks now, getting overhauled. Expensive, time-consuming... But in my time off, I've spent time in introspection. I've given time to walks in the woods, to my yoga mat, to my family. I see a more well-rounded girl. I have a few extra pounds on me now, but I work hard to be gentle with myself and not berate my body. My body hasn't betrayed me. I betrayed my body, with too much work burden, and not enough time to relax and let it do the real work of repair, with not enough fuel to do so.
My respect for my body as a machine has evolved into respect for the body-soul complex. I'm more than a few pieces of bone strung together by muscle and sinew. I have a brain in my brain box, and I need to use it, and allow it to inform the things I do. In a way, I feel this taking me back to a paper I wrote in Intellectual History of Early Modern Europe, which dealt with the complexities of ideas of monster versus man, and the issue of AI, and questions of how one can tell the difference between man and machine. So what am I? Today, I say woman. I have come to accept my softness. But hopefully someday I can become the monster... An odd melding of (wo)man and machine. The perfect synthesis of humanity and machine. A monster can listen to its feedback; the machine can't do a thing but what it is told, until it breaks down. The monster can learn.
But hey, I'm still a cyclist, still obsessed with numbers, data, and improvement. So where do I stand? My blood work improves, albeit slowly. Ferritin, hemoglobin, and white blood cells are slowly inching themselves into fair territory. While not at optimal levels, as long as I continue to make deposits into the Bank of Blood Health and TLC, I should be better in a few months. My hormones have a long way to go to be back to normal, and that'll be an ongoing effort on my part to eat well and relax. My Vitamin D numbers still aren't what they should be, but that will come around too.
So, at what I think it probably the half way point in my journey back to serious training, all I can say is, don't be the machine. Be the monster. Listen to the feedback and learn. Be smart, and be gentle when you need to be.
I've learned a lot about myself though. I've learned that I won't give up on myself. That when I really care about the outcome of something, my work ethic is so good I will literally drive myself to madness. To the edge of sanity. I will give more than the expected 100%. If I can channel that sort of dedication into whatever I decide to do with my life someday, I think I can do big things.
I've learned to respect my body in a new way. My life on the bike taught me to respect my body as a well-oiled machine. Sometimes I forgot to perform maintenance like oil changes and tire rotations. Because when you're a person living separate from your body and what it can do, sometimes you don't invest in it like you should. So I'm up on the blocks now, getting overhauled. Expensive, time-consuming... But in my time off, I've spent time in introspection. I've given time to walks in the woods, to my yoga mat, to my family. I see a more well-rounded girl. I have a few extra pounds on me now, but I work hard to be gentle with myself and not berate my body. My body hasn't betrayed me. I betrayed my body, with too much work burden, and not enough time to relax and let it do the real work of repair, with not enough fuel to do so.
My respect for my body as a machine has evolved into respect for the body-soul complex. I'm more than a few pieces of bone strung together by muscle and sinew. I have a brain in my brain box, and I need to use it, and allow it to inform the things I do. In a way, I feel this taking me back to a paper I wrote in Intellectual History of Early Modern Europe, which dealt with the complexities of ideas of monster versus man, and the issue of AI, and questions of how one can tell the difference between man and machine. So what am I? Today, I say woman. I have come to accept my softness. But hopefully someday I can become the monster... An odd melding of (wo)man and machine. The perfect synthesis of humanity and machine. A monster can listen to its feedback; the machine can't do a thing but what it is told, until it breaks down. The monster can learn.
But hey, I'm still a cyclist, still obsessed with numbers, data, and improvement. So where do I stand? My blood work improves, albeit slowly. Ferritin, hemoglobin, and white blood cells are slowly inching themselves into fair territory. While not at optimal levels, as long as I continue to make deposits into the Bank of Blood Health and TLC, I should be better in a few months. My hormones have a long way to go to be back to normal, and that'll be an ongoing effort on my part to eat well and relax. My Vitamin D numbers still aren't what they should be, but that will come around too.
So, at what I think it probably the half way point in my journey back to serious training, all I can say is, don't be the machine. Be the monster. Listen to the feedback and learn. Be smart, and be gentle when you need to be.
23 August, 2016
A Few Words on Feminism and The Femme Who I Am
I love all my girlfriends, girl acquaintances, girls I follow in Instagram and barely know, girls I don't know at all. I love them, work to encourage them, and want them to live fulfilled lives in their respective paths. I get this from my rowdy, "Mama Tried" badass kind of mother, an inherited mindset that we women should stand behind each other and be shared encouragers and enablers in the best of ways, because really, women need to be on each others sides. My mother is also a little old fashioned, southern, and well-raised, and would never complain about the patriarchy... Unlike yours truly.
This morning I found myself scrolling through Facebook (morning ritual, anyone? Chai and Facebook...) when I happened upon an opinion piece in Haaretz about French municipalities and their decision to ban burkinis from their local beaches. For the sake of brevity and avoiding arguments, I'll ignore the socio-political implications of this legislative action.
I used to think feminism was bad; it tends to be given a bad name, especially in the conservative circles in which I used to run. The stereotype is wrong. Then I became a liberal, no makeup wearing, solve the problems of the world kind of girl, who thought her way of living might be the best. No one should feel like they have to get up in the morning and spend hours getting ready. If you do, I secretly judged you. Smugness clouded my vision.
In true late-blooming, perpetual-growth style in which I seem to function best, however, I've recently come to the conclusion that I've fallen prey to a particular level of bias that isn't good for my fellow women. As a liberated woman, it isn't my job to tell other women how to live their lives. I'm no better than a tool of the patriarchy then.
As women, we have the ability to be game changers, problem solvers, people who can change the world. But we have to learn to work together, to communicate, to compromise, to care. We have to enable that in each other.
So... My friends. I lovingly respect your right to wear lipstick every day, straighten your hair, and go all out. I also respect your right to roll out of bed, throw on yoga pants and watch Stranger Things all day without showering. (Ehem...) I respect your right to work at an office, at a barn, in a field, at home in the kitchen, in a pulpit, anywhere that gets your heart churning and makes your mind vibrate with joy. I trust you when you decide to cover up or bare all. I respect your right to raise your kids any way you please, so long as you're raising kind little people who care for others. (even when the circumstances are uncomfortable. especially then.) People who live gently and with love. I respect your right to think and believe what you want (as long as your actions don't infringe on the rights of others). I respect the way you choose to show the love inside you, across the spectrum of relationships. I respect you, I affirm you, I send love your way. I love you, not in spite of who you are, but because of who you are. Namaste.
This morning I found myself scrolling through Facebook (morning ritual, anyone? Chai and Facebook...) when I happened upon an opinion piece in Haaretz about French municipalities and their decision to ban burkinis from their local beaches. For the sake of brevity and avoiding arguments, I'll ignore the socio-political implications of this legislative action.
"Anyone who defends the rights of women to bare their shoulders, legs, and hair must also defend the right of women to cover them up. It isn't up to powerful men to dictate what women will put on their bodies." Allison Kaplan Sommer
I used to think feminism was bad; it tends to be given a bad name, especially in the conservative circles in which I used to run. The stereotype is wrong. Then I became a liberal, no makeup wearing, solve the problems of the world kind of girl, who thought her way of living might be the best. No one should feel like they have to get up in the morning and spend hours getting ready. If you do, I secretly judged you. Smugness clouded my vision.
In true late-blooming, perpetual-growth style in which I seem to function best, however, I've recently come to the conclusion that I've fallen prey to a particular level of bias that isn't good for my fellow women. As a liberated woman, it isn't my job to tell other women how to live their lives. I'm no better than a tool of the patriarchy then.
"I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you,No. As a woman, it is my responsibility to respect how other girls choose to live their lives. Real feminism is more yogic and kind than I initially perceived, telling each other "Namaste" with intention. Namaste Feminism (I'm coining this... Maybe it is already a thing.) says, "You live your life differently from me, but that makes you beautiful and wonderful." As the years of my life go by, I realize we have to find common ground, and see what is amazing and beautiful in others. We have to see the beauty in how others choose to live their lives, or we run the risk of miring our hearts and minds in intolerance, which is toxic. Toxic to our innermost selves, to our relationships, to the world around us. The only things I won't tolerate are hate, violence, and ignorance. I won't tolerate the intolerance to which these things give birth.
Or bow down and be grateful and say 'Sure, take all that you see,'
To the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me..." Fleet Foxes, "Helplessness Blues"
As women, we have the ability to be game changers, problem solvers, people who can change the world. But we have to learn to work together, to communicate, to compromise, to care. We have to enable that in each other.
So... My friends. I lovingly respect your right to wear lipstick every day, straighten your hair, and go all out. I also respect your right to roll out of bed, throw on yoga pants and watch Stranger Things all day without showering. (Ehem...) I respect your right to work at an office, at a barn, in a field, at home in the kitchen, in a pulpit, anywhere that gets your heart churning and makes your mind vibrate with joy. I trust you when you decide to cover up or bare all. I respect your right to raise your kids any way you please, so long as you're raising kind little people who care for others. (even when the circumstances are uncomfortable. especially then.) People who live gently and with love. I respect your right to think and believe what you want (as long as your actions don't infringe on the rights of others). I respect the way you choose to show the love inside you, across the spectrum of relationships. I respect you, I affirm you, I send love your way. I love you, not in spite of who you are, but because of who you are. Namaste.
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