Move

April 3, 2020

Right now, I’m in a squat off with my friend BH. She texts me, SQUAT, and I get up from my desk and do 30 squats. My bike thighs are already starting to give way. I’m hoping the squats will salvage them, at least kind of. Right now we doing 4 sets, so 120 total squats. My plan is to increase our sets by 1 a week until we are at 10 sets of 30 or 300 squats.

My other friend, MD, has workout flash cards, illustrating all sorts of body weight exercises. Core strength is what they are currently into. Tonight, on our Zoom hang out, we talked about V-ups for a good 5 minutes .

Most days, MTB does hot yoga in the back room of our house, courtesy a space heater turned on high. Sadly, her online yoga class often freezes up We have a bandwidth issue and often at the same time she is doing yoga, I’m video conferencing for work. We tried to upgrade our internet connection, but that would mean some dude coming into our house to hook us up with a new modem. No thanks.

When we went to Target a couple of weeks ago, we’d been hoping to score a jump rope and some 20 lb barbells, but the workout and fitness aisles were almost laid bare. All that was left were some 3 lb weights, an exercise ball and a couple of yoga mats. It was unexpected. And the unexpectedness felt jarring.

I bought some new running shoes. I’ve had them for a week. So far all I’ve done in them is march up and down a single step stool for a half hour while watching episodes about Gwenyth Paltrow’s horrible Goop enterprise. But the weather has been crap. Cold and rainy, and I’m not going to start up running until the sun comes back out.

I can’t tell, am I newly interested in body or trying to keep my anxiety and depression at bay? Am I dabbling with some magical thinking that fitness is going to protect me or that fitness proves I’m ok? I think all of it’s true. And in the absence of testing, my fitness is a sign to me, that today, I’m ok.

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Shopping Now

April 1, 2020

Work a little bit. Take a short walk to walk the dogs. Work some more. Then take a longer walk. Come home, eat food, load up dishwasher and then run it, for what seems like the millionth time since we were ordered to shelter in place. Will there eventually be a run on dishwasher detergent? Confession: we bought 2 extra bottles a couple weeks ago on a weird and depressing trip to Target.

There was a big sign right when you entered, alerting everyone: This is not a COVID-19 testing site. We don’t watch White House press briefings; so we didn’t know that the Dump had lied to everyone who does watch press briefings, announcing that there would be testing at major retail stores. I only just caught up to this particular lie this week, which, in retrospect, made the sign make more sense. At the time, MTB and my response was, what the fuck.

There was a real foreboding feeling, pushing our cart around Target. It was the first time either of us had been at a big box store since the lockdown, and the first time we’d been confronted with the gaping swaths of empty shelves that normally hold all the things everyone keeps buying up and or is hoarding: toilet paper, paper towels, flour, disinfectant cleaners and wipes, rubbing alcohol, aloe vera, and Cheerios. Even the shelves that weren’t completely emptied out had at least a couple of significant and un-ignorable gaps. Like, when did everyone start eating canned peaches? The panic underlying all that emptiness felt visceral.

Oh, good lord, I just scratched my forehead. Even though I haven’t been anywhere all day, except for a walk, where I didn’t touch anything, and I’ve washed my hands a gajillion times, most recently, just 10 minutes ago, touching my face brings on a jolt of anxiety. I hate it. I wake up in the middle of the night, scratch my cheek and hope I’m not infecting myself because I closed the bathroom door last time I got up to pee. I don’t know about you, but I miss mindlessly picking my nose.

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Everything changed

March 30, 2020

Today I took a longish bike ride. Like around an hour. It’s the longest ride I’ve taken since I last rode home from work a little over two weeks ago, when we got the word we’d be teleworking for the foreseeable future.

It wasn’t a surprise, exactly. There had been less and less people around the hospital campus in each of the preceding days. Less car traffic on each commute. The week before, I’d asked if we could get hand sanitizer in our suite, only to find it was already sold out every where. My co-workers and I co-workers were punching elevator buttons with our elbows and using paper towels to open the doors of the fridge and the microwave. We had been getting daily COVID-19 updates since the end of February. On that last day at the office, there were 75 confirmed cases in Oregon, and 1187 confirmed cases in Washington.

When I got home, the dogs ran up to the gate and barked, like they always do. It was sunny and vaguely warm. Beau darted back and forth in front of the garden fence, tracking a squirrel scampering across the top of the cement block wall than runs parallel to the fence and stands at the back of our lot. Billie circled the yard looking for a bone to bring me. I rolled by bike into the shed. I fed the dogs. I fed the cats. I got the mail. I set my pannier down in the middle of the living room and emptied out the extra things I’d grabbed from my desk in a hurry: a power supply, a can of soup, a bunch of bandanas I kept in a drawer drawer and used for napkins, a sweatshirt, a special pen, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer I’d brought from home. I got on my computer and re-read the update about working from home for the foreseeable future. It felt so ominous, like officially ominous.

I did 2 things after that. First, I cleaned the two front windows on our house that are not covered by the porch. The dirt on the glass had been bothering me for weeks. I didn’t even mess with changing out of my bike clothes. I closed my computer, got out the windex, grabbed a roll of paper towels, and took them and a step stool outside. My neighbor across the street gave me a hard time about getting a jump on spring cleaning. The second thing I did, was put on my sweatpants, take out the weighted blanket I gave MTB for her birthday, crawl under it on the couch, then turn on the TV and fall asleep. I slept until MTB came home around 10 o’clock.

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ride home

August 28, 2019

High temps and head winds. It’s like the whole ride home was uphill. Phew. At least it wasn’t windy on the ride in to work. When it’s a hard ride in, then there is an added component of dread to contend with for the ride home. And dread is like adding lead weights to my legs.

Tonight’s ride home was the second time I hooked up my mini bluetooth speaker at the start of my ride, right out of the bike corral. When I first started riding with my mini JBL this summer, on evening work commutes, I would wait until I was clear of the heavier bike traffic to pull over and turn on my Bike Jams play list. Just feeling a little self-conscious about drawing more attention to myself, which I decided was ridiculous, given who I am. Just walking into a bathroom, I draw attention to myself. So jamming out from the start of my commute home, even if it does turn heads.

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listen up

November 13, 2016

There’s 1000 things I want to talk about, but what I’ve got today is a shout out to some of my favorite podcasts.

Another Round

Code Switch

About Race

The Undefeated

The Read

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resist

November 11, 2016

Tuesday night and Wednesday, I just felt sick to my stomach. Despair splitting my heart open and filling up my gut. Today I am so angry. So fucking angry.

The are 1000 thoughts running through my brain, but before I spill a few of them out onto the page, I wanted to get to some links first:

White Won

The Audacity of Hopelessness

Election 2016 and the Collapse of Journalistic Standards

Two NBA Coaches Call a Foul on Trump’s Power Play

Radical Pragmatism (from the Bush years)

Here, in no particular order, are some of my thoughts.

.1

To elected Democrats – obstruct. Filibuster. Filibuster. Filibuster. Get your talking points together. Support Obama appointing Merrick Garland to the supreme court. Remind the public of outstanding lawsuits http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2016/11/10/75-lawsuits-against-president-elect-trump.html against Trump. Call for an investigation of his abuse of women. Call for an investigation into his ties to the KKK. Call for the designation of the KKK as a terrorist group. Remind the public of the more 500 lies he told on the campaign trail.

Also: Don’t go to the inauguration. Don’t go to the White House. Don’t have a meeting with him, unless his ass will come to Senate or House and then the agenda is resist, resist, resist.

.2

To my people: Love is resistance.

.3

To the silicon power people, you are not seceding. You are staying right here. If you have a bunch of money to fund a campaign: Fund a fucking campaign to do away with the Electoral College. Set up life time funding for the ACLU or Planned Parenthood. Fund Black Lives Matter and National Network for Immigrant and Refugee Rights. Fund services for trans and queer youth. Fund the free press. You get the idea. Do something that matters with your precious elite power and all the money you’ve made off commodifying our social lives and need for work. You are nothing without us, so fucking do something real for us.

.4

To all the people that couldn’t be bothered to vote. What the fuck, man! There is no magic candidate that is going to fix everything. Not Obama. Not Bernie. Not Nader. Not Lincoln. Not Kennedy. No one.  So what. Our job as citizens is to hold our leaders feet to the fire. Make them do the right thing. Sometimes, like FDR, make them do great things. If you’re all boohoo, they are both fucked up, let me tell you that the lesser of two evils is really fucking less evil. And Trump is troll and bully with the heart of despot and soul of a dictator.

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rode report 2016.03.31

April 1, 2016

Another beautiful day. Second one in a row. It looks like winter riding is over (fingers crossed), which means more miles in the daylight, and that always inspires more confidence, at least for a little while. Yesterday, on the ride home, I felt like I wanted to ride as fast as I could, not that I did, because that’s not my jam around car traffic. Still, I had that very boundless feeling of happy energy from the sunshine and the 70 degrees temperature, which I channeled it into pushing myself on the hills.

I remember a ride back in February, when it was still dark in the morning. I was stopped at a light in the Rose Quarter, and I noticed birds chirping. It felt so hopeful. Like, oh thank god, twilight riding is almost over. There was a time when I liked my pre-sunrise and post-sunset commutes. They were kind of quiet. My routes felt generally calm. But as car traffic in Portland worsens, I am finding late fall and winter riding to be much more mentally challenging than they used to be. Or maybe every year, I forget how it felt. Anyway, I just deleted a bunch of stuff I wrote about winter commuting because the sun is out and we have entered the season of longer days. Be here now. Right?!

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rode report 2016.03.28

March 29, 2016

Flat front tire this morning. First thing. Before I even started pedaling. Not sure how I missed it last night when I rolled my bike from the garage to the house, which is how I do – prep for my morning commute, as much as I can, the night before. Maybe there was nothing to notice, as in it was a slow leak. But even then, you think I would have caught a deflated tire when I rolled my bike over the front door trim and out of the house this morning. It just doesn’t seem possible that it was a full tire until I stood up on the pedals and somehow pushed out all the air – whoosh. When does that ever happen? Like a flat tire in waiting.

But I don’t know; maybe it was partially full?

I am belaboring this point here much longer than I belabored it in reality. Which is kind of how writing works. You think something for 10 seconds and then write about it for at least 10 minutes. But also, I just had a flat tire on Friday. Seriously. Three days ago. Back tire. And it  was a bigger ordeal because I had already biked in more than half of my commute when my tire went flat. So there was some walking and taking the max and walking again. Really, it could have been much, much worse, if for instance, I lived some where without something like a max that I could put my bike on. But I digress. In reality this morning, I was like: fuck. again. ugh. wish I woulda caught it sooner. work. email work. why am i embarrassed? make coffee. don’t change your clothes.

When does Bike Gallery open?

In my life, I’ve changed out a flat possibly two times. So, yes, I can change one (although I am slow-ass-slow), but if I don’t absolutely have to, then I don’t. Portland’s got a bajillion bike shops. Bike mechanics have changed a bajillion flats. That makes me, not a bajillion times happier, but happier than I would be if the aforementioned weren’t true. I would be a bajillion times happier, if more than one of these shops had early morning hours. Like last Friday morning, I would have been ecstatic if Metropolis, the bike shop I walked by on Williams, would have been open. Isn’t there a business case for early morning bike repair hours? Especially post the spring-forward time change, lots of people bike commute in pre-bike shop hours, i.e. before 10am. And chains break. Spokes break. Lights stop working. Flats happen. Bolts wiggle out of eyelets and racks come loose. But I imagine bike shop people can make a very convincing lifestyle case for not starting work before 10.

The guy at the Bike Gallery on Sandy was super fast. Kinda curt. But he didn’t go down the mansplaining hole. This points to the low bar I’ve set for the bike shop customer service experience, which is so defined by mansplanation overload, that the absence of it counts as a win, regardless of the quality of the work. The thing is  I don’t have the expertise to assess the work. If I did, maybe I would just do the work myself. And admittedly, I don’t think to check up on the work either, or at least whatever I can figure out to check up on. I think I should be able to assume the mechanic has correctly fixed whatever they said the would fix (and charged me to fix) and then put my bike back together so that it won’t fall apart as I am riding it. (In a sec, I will explain why you shouldn’t make this assumption). But also, it’s pretty common for mechanics to talk smack about the work of other mechanics. Like the Bike Gallery dude didn’t find anything that had punctured the tire and tube, so maybe he was talking out of his ass when he said that what caused the flat was that someone had installed a tube that was too big and there a fold in the tube that caused a hot spot that resulted in a slow leak. I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember the last person who fixed a flat on my front tire and I think it at was my regular shop and I just can’t imagine those guys fucking up the tube. The Cat Six guys are the best.

Anyway, back to checking work and not assuming things got fixed up right. The silver lining to this morning’s flat is I discovered a fuck up on the rear tire that was caused by the Tram guy who fixed the flat last Friday. The tire was bubbled out by the stem, so much so that it was almost unbeaded from the rim. Had I ridden on it many more days like that, it probably would have blown out on me. The Bike Gallery dude said that what happened was that before the Tram dude fully inflated the rear tube, he either 1) didn’t pull the tube stem all the way through the opening in the rim, or 2) didn’t get the tire bead fully seated in the rim, or 3) locked down the nut on the valve.

I told the Tram guy about his fuck up when I finally got to work this morning, although I didn’t call it a fuck up. He didn’t argue with me, but he didn’t look like he really believed me either. I immediately wished I would have taken a photo. I don’t know why I didn’t ask for my money back, as it was a shitty repair job. But mostly I wanted to impress on him that it could have ended up in bad scene for me. So check your work, dude.

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01.20.2016 one thing

January 21, 2016

Running out of energy two thirds of the way through my morning and evening commutes and lots of unhelpful self talk ensues. Maybe I had too much weight in my panniers or started out too fast. Or maybe I didn’t get enough sleep or my legs are tired. Or maybe I am more out of bike shape than I thought I was because I’ve not ridden regularly since Thanksgiving. The wind picks up in those last 30 blocks on the way home. My mind stares down the Prescott micro climate and dusk. I tuck away the traffic fear. I fantasize that my legs are stronge than they are. I think I should wear my glasses at night

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01.06.2016 two things

January 7, 2016

1. Walking across the sky bridge this morning at the cusp of dawn and feeling like I’m on a set of a Star Wars or Star trek movie – a 660 foot long cooridor in the air, held in place by repeating x’es of thick white steel beams and enclosed in glass. Epic and sterile and full of purpose. Then  glimpsing, the beginning of the sunrise behind the silhouette of Hood.

2. Walking from the conference room to my cubes, maybe 30 steps total of cubes. Been sitting too long and my gate makes me feel like I am lumbering giant.

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