A good sign is hard to find.

Where were you when the shuttle went up?

I remember the last one precisely.  Although I didn't know it at the time, it was to be the very last day I would work at Adventure Cycles.  

 February 24, 2011.

Discovery on her way.

They are expecting the biggest traffic jam yet for Endeavour's launch today.   (750,000!)   I will be well out of it this time, and grateful to be so.

As a matter of fact I have a lot to be grateful for, now that I'm no longer at the bike shop. 

First and foremost, grateful for a husband who cheerfully continutes to feed me. 

Grateful for not driving up to Merritt Island in over a month. 

Grateful for the extra tomatoes the owner of the vegetable stand stuck in my bag when I mentioned I was riding through my unemployment.   Seems he took up swimming himself.  And vegetables.

One door closes.  Another door opens.  Always has so far.

The bike is helping, for sure.  At first I panicked.  What if I can never afford another bike?  What if I taco a wheel?  Or the new XT brakes wig out like the Elixers did? 

Oh well.  Then, back to work it will be.  

No problem.  The signs are out there.

Just today I saw a sign at the pool store, "Now Hiring." 

If you're into cutesy bright colored do-dads and selling strangely shaped and sized bits and pieces to people who have no idea how to describe them, and smelling weird chemicals floating out from the back...  oh wait, that's rather like the bike shop. 

Well, what isn't like the bike shop when you think about it? 

A job is a job is a job.  Like books?  Work at the book store.  Like planes that bounce like rubber balls?  Go fly for a regional airline.   Like food?   Mmmm, food...  OK, so some people like food too much.  Don't work with food.

I drove the car four miles yesterday.  A savings of about 31 miles over most Thursday's of the past five years. 

A good chunk of the mileage savings was due to the discovery of a donation box at the Association for the Blind, a block from my house.  

Apparently the blind see their way to accepting cast off clothing and shoes, as well as does our usual donation destination, the SPCA thrift store in Cocoa.  

When cleaning out closets and drawers at the methodical, yet sedate, rate of one a day, it accumulates to about a trip a week.  

I figure I can alternate between the plight of homeless dogs and cats 15 miles away, and the ultra-convenient, box-next-door for the blind. 

How many times have I passed that building and never seen the quiet, white donation box?  Thousands?  Proving that sighted people can be nearly blind when it comes to a quiet sign.  The real estate sign next door has been demanding all the attention, scrolling along in red letters, flashing the prices of Tortoise Island homes gone to market.

Speaking of the blind, and trips up US 1...

The sign at Blinds of All Kinds, on US 1.

Another favorite last week was at a little dry cleaner in Melbourne.  Who would even notice the place if the sign said "10% off  dry cleaning"?  Not me.  But then they put up, "Drop your pants here!"  

If I had any dirty pants to drop I would certainly choose to drop them there from now on.  I bet they'll be hiring soon. 

So far today my favorite is an "It Should Have Been Me" tee shirt on a pouty 20-something.

OK.  I will ask.  Where were you this morning when Kate and William tied the knot?  

Did you get up early?  Without a proper hat, getting up at four seemed an uncivilized tribute.  Eggs and coffee in the morning are one thing. Tea and feathers?  I admit to being ill prepared. 

So.  That brings us to this afternoon's launch.  Where will you be at 3:47? 

Working?  Home? 

Or maybe on a bike, pedaling along somewhere in between, keeping further look out for good signs.

PS  As I finished writing this last Friday a bunch of fighter jets went roaring over and I realized probably air force one was arriving in the area.  Time to turn on the local channel and check on the launch. 

It's a scrub. 

750,000 people. 

But, what a beautiful day for the beach.

It's April. Clean Something Every Day. Eat Your Vegetables. And Don't Forget to Ride your Bike.

Under the influence of The Happiness Project, this month of April started with a vow.  To clean something every day.

Specifically, to clean out something every day - like a closet or a drawer.  Some area that has been neglected for awhile.  I could start anywhere, pick anything.  

It seemed daunting to start with the main, walk-in clothes closet, so the medicine cabinet worked for a starter.  Then the hall closet.  Some dresser drawers.  The book case.  My purse. 

The very worst part about cleaning stuff out is finding Valuable Stuff.  I wish everything I found was junk so I would have no qualms about simply throwing it away. 

But no.  Valuable Stuff can not be thrown away simply. 

Stuff like original Star Wars toys. 

Now what?  I can barely make myself stay inside on a nice day and clean a closet.  I am certainly not the type to go figure out EBay. 

(If anyone is, there's a commission in it for you.)

It's been a long month.  Can that really have been the first of April that I started the cleaning quest?  It feels a lot longer than three weeks.

Was it really already April, when we went to Graham's Swamp?  And ran the hiking trail times two.  Then rode the bike loop, times two?

Could we already have been to the Econ twice this month?  Or was it three times?

Watch Your Knees!

One Sunday, Popeye ran the first loop, eleven miles.  He seemed disappointed with his time.  I went along on Killer, doing my best to keep up over the technical stuff and riding hard to catch up on the flats.  We finished together.  It was my best bike time ever.  

I don't know if he'd agree, but I'm saying he is ready for "The Claw", the 10 mile XTerra trail run in Alafia on May 1st. 

Then we do the loop again, me trying to keep up to him and Inspector Gadget on the bikes.  And then that becomes my fastest loop ever. 

The Stand Up Paddleboard craze has hit the Econ.

At least a dozen last Sunday.

I get to Wickham Park and Tropical Trail too many times to count, but still not enough.  I really need to run more if I am going to meet my goal of 15 miles in the time it takes Popeye to finish 26 on Wickham Park Marathon Day.

I admit to being discouraged in Wickham Park.  The ploughed up trails limit access to my comfortable, premeasured loops.  And to the only water fountain en route.

The soft sandy new firebreaks make some sections a tough slog.  There's trail left, but just the same, it's kind of depressing.

The view on Tropical Trail hasn't changed though.  And neither have I.  I still can't resist the veggie stand on the way home, even when I don't think to bring the bike rack.  

This day I ask for a second bag. 

"Why?" says the owner, "so you won't go 'round in circles?" 

Yes.  Exactly.

And there is the danger of the new pothole in the bike lane on the way home.

Sometimes it's a good thing, not to be a roadie anymore.

Then one week, there was some art appreciation.

First the Native Plant Tour. 

Amid the cool, green plantings, the  mulberry tree in old Melbourne had to be my favorite.  (The Professor, Merry Ann, and I sneak free samples - yum.)  Even as another old favorite, an MD-88, roared on take-off overhead, ruining the allure of the shady, older neighborhood. 

But the modern windmills and rooftop grass were what really wow'd me at this green home in Indiatlantic.

The 2 windmills were works of art in themselves.  Between the windmills and the new solar panels, the owner expects to be selling power back to the grid next month.

Later in the week, Merry Ann invited me to see the "Little Black Dress" exhibit at the Ruth Funk Center for Textile Arts at Florida Tech.

Opera gown, circa late1800's

And lunch.  Almost as cool as an Oscar De La Renta, the new cafeteria at the university is it's own work of art.

The big highlight this month was a full moon hash...

...ending under a bridge.  Awesome!  We ride clear to the end, even though we have already decided to broach good hash ettiquette and skip circle in lieu of an early-up the next morning.  But when next morning comes...  Oh well, it was awfully darned windy for a century anyway.  And the Econ wins out again.

Later, we end up paying a tad more than hash bucks for our beers. 

A pint a pound, the world around.

At Coasters, it's a pound a round for us weight prone types.  

Good week, careful eating, lots of riding.  Down five. 

Two pints at Coasters.  Up two.  In two hours.

Which would have been OK...  but for you know what holiday.

And I was doing so well.

Hey, but there's a whole week of April left.  And Alafia too.

LSD and the Munchies

-

Lysergic acid diethylamide, abbreviated LSD or LSD-25, also known as lysergide and colloquially as acid, is a semisynthetic psychedelic drug of the ergoline family, well known for its psychological effects which can include altered thinking processes, closed and open eye visuals, synaesthesia, an altered sense of time and spiritual experiences, as well as for its key role in 1960s counterculture.  [sic]  LSD is non-addictive, is not known to cause brain damage, and has extremely low toxicity relative to dose, although adverse psychiatric reactions such as anxiety or delusions are possible even at low doses.  (Wikipedia)


There used to be a commercial:

"I can't believe I ate the whole thing". 


It comes to mind because I just spent a bunch of hours at the computer.  And I am now saying, "I can't believe I erased the whole thing". 


**it happens.  Especially on this editing program.  Not the first time.


But maybe this one time, it's just as well.  A little time travel can be entertaining, but I'm over it.  The psychedelic 60's can wait for another day.  I like the title though.  I think I'll leave it.


Every week or so we get an email newsletter from active.com.


"How to Lose Weight to Train" catches my eye.


Five easy steps.  1 - 4.  Been there, knew that.


But, Ooo!  Check out #5.  Who doesn't love a Quick Start on weight loss?


And LSD! 


For a moment, flashbacks to the LSD years seduce me.  I have forgotten a lot of things, but not the mind bending highs, the altered state of consciousness, the spiritual awakening.  Those, I remember.  

The thought of doing LSD again momentarily offsets any memory of the bad-trip Twiggy years. 


Excited, I read on.

"#5   Fasting Workouts  -  a long easy run undertaken in a glycogen deprived state. That means you don't eat before you start and you don't take in any carbs along the way. This forces your body to rely on fat to fuel the workout, making it a great fat burning session."


(The advice is to do this once a week for a month of quick start weight loss.)


Here, check it out for yourself.


http://www.active.com/running/Articles/How-to-Lose-Weight-to-Train.htm?&int=29-12

See, right there on page 2.


LSD.


Long Slow Distance.  (What were you thinking?)


No Gu.  No sushi rice bars to make.  No bananas.  No Gatorade.


Well, that's just too easy. I haven't had lunch yet. I could go right now!


So go I did.  Not running, unfortunately.  But a few easy hours on the bike?  No problem.


Only... it was a problem.  The water bottle got refilled twice.  But the 4 hours since breakfast added to the 2 hours I was out riding...   Oh yeah, it was a problem.


Slow, it was.  Distance?  The ride could have been hours/miles longer with some Gatorade along.  Or a peanut butter sandwich. 


Light headed by three.  Glad to be home early.  The only route left to navigate?  A spinning hallway, leading to a change of dry clothes.


Whoa.  Bad trip.


Reel back out to the desk.


OK, where's that article?


I check back in.


OK, Active.com, I did your miserable Long Starving Distance, so what's next?


What should I eat for my overdue lunch?


I need to know.  I need to know now.  

What’s the use of burning it off, if you eat the wrong thing when you get back and put it right back on? 

Was it a fat burning workout?  No clue.  The glucose is gone, though.  Even in my mind-altered state, that's one thing my buzzing brain is sure about.

It's good to have a plan for STARVATION mode.  Without a plan, bad things happen.

So I reread #5.  No plan. 

I reread the whole article.  No plan.


What's this?  No words of wisdom about following up on this latest incarnation of LSD, Long Starving Distance?


Hey.  I rode the ride.  I starved.


What do I do now?


I could search for the book and read the whole thing.  Make sure there's follow-up advice.  A Step B for every Step A.  But right this minute the room is spinning, and I am not going anywhere. 


Glaring omissions like that one could drive a habitual always-carrying-a-few-extra-pounds-type, like me, straight into candidate-for-Biggest-Loser-mode. 


Let's just hope it was due to the brevity requirements for active.com articles, and not that refueling requirements are ignored by the author. That would be too bad.


Meanwhile I try to derail the starvation by doing what a "real runner" would do.  Avoid "I can't believe I ate the whole thing", and eat a normal lunch.  Leftover chicken from the fridge, salad, some grapes.


Regardless, I am up two pounds the next day.


Call me old fashioned. I still like LSD.


I love trippin', especially on the bike. 


But to sustain the high, and the ride, I'm taking calories along.


Because, doing LSD means you've come a long way baby.  

No plan for coming down?  Whoa, bummer.


PS:
I wrote this a while back, like February.  Maybe I was too bonked to click on "publish"?  

But it comes to mind because it's Saturday night.  There's a Full Moon Hash tonight, maybe 6 hours rest, and an early up for the century tomorrow.  My PB&J is already in the fridge.  

PPS: 
Sunday morning.  Oops.  We didn't make it up in time for the century.  I know.  Unprecedented, right?  But a late start doesn't mean that PB&J won't get put to good use. 

After all, we've got bikes.  And we've got all day. 

LSD, non-addictive?  I beg to differ.

Prone to Wandering. The Hierarchy of Happiness.

Remember that bumper sticker, "Lost, and Prone to Wandering"?

I am seldom lost.  But prone to wandering?  Oh yes, absolutely.

I don't know if I could work at Barnes and Noble.  It was tough enough working among the shelves at The Little Professor years ago, and that bookstore was the size of your average Baskin Robbins.  I found that answering questions and looking up special orders was the best position for the likes of me.  Alone among the shelves, I was always sampling the flavors.

So, when I went in to B&N to look for a book on diet detox, and came out instead with a tall coffee and an oversized paperback by Gretchen Rubin, titled "The Happiness Project", it was no big surprise.


Channel 2's Storm Tracker Radar is having a busy week, so it makes me happy to have a new book. 

See?  The Happiness Project is working already.  Probably better than the detox would have.  Though maybe not as well as a bike ride.

Hmm, now there's a hierarchy for further study.  A hierarchy of happiness.  

Remember air, water, food, shelter, love/belonging, self esteem, and self actualization?  Back in 1943, Maslow likely felt no need to insert exercise into his hierarchy of needs.  Physical activity was probably assumed, a part of acquiring food and shelter.

For most of us in 2011 though, acquiring food and shelter means hours of forced inactivity.  

When it comes to my personal Hierarchy of Happiness, mountain biking is high on the list.  But this is no kind of day for any kind of bike.  Even though running in the rain is usually fun, today's tornado warnings change that equation too.

Now last week, that was some awesome weather.

Twice while running in Wickham Park, the Bluebird of Happiness himself hopped out to share the trail with me.

Scrub Jay - Wickham Park Trails

I paddled over to Sampson's Island for a run.  Not only were the county workers spraying herbicides for Brazilian Peppers...

Wait, isn't that a pine?

...but there was also a bobcat warning posted.  

Cool.  Swimming bobcats.  I hope I see one.

Sampson's Island isn't too sandy yet, and a few loops of running combined with the 20 minute paddle, was an easy-access workout right from the backyard.

The trail goes over a creek dividing the island,

then through mangroves, peppers, and pines.

No bobcat, though. 

Another venture right out the driveway is a llama ride.  OK, they are probably alpacas.  Whatever you call them, I call them adorable. 

Not that any excuses are required to wander up Tropical Trail.

On the way back from Mather's Bridge, there's some exercise equipment that I've been biding my time to use.  A week ago, it was being pressure washed, and over the weekend, it was really crowded.

But finally, I have the DeSoto bleachers all to myself. 

The Richmond XTerra, and carrying the bike up 16 flights of steps is only 9 weeks away.  I want to do a little stair running in bike shoes in case there's a chance we can go.
 

Stair running was on my list again for today, but unless it clears soon, it's not going to happen.  

Popeye working overtime keeps us from traveling far on the weekends lately, but it did provide an opportunity to hitch a ride down to Malabar with him on Friday.

Killer and I rode home from there, with a tour of Turkey Creek on the way.

The Ho Chi Minh, near Brook Hollow

(Oh, and I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Blownfuse on my way back.  Blownfuse is doing the Cross Florida this weekend.  Awesome.)

I have been resisting the same old rides, but Saturday was so nice, I relented and rode up to River Road.

Sunday, at the last minute, we agreed to meet Northstar, Tom, and Inspector Gadget at the Econ.  By the time we got around to the Gator Trail on the bikes, Mosquito Hour was approaching fast.  Mosquitoes at the Econ are almost as scary as the gators.

Even so, we stopped on trail along a high bank to check out a big one. (Gator, not mosquito. Not til dusk anyway.) 

Around the bend came two girls, paddling downstream aboard sit-on-top kayaks. 

"You might want to swing wide on the next bend," I yell.  "Big gator!" 

They thanked me, then said,  "Wait til you see what's around the next bend for you." 

"Dead gator," said one girl. 

"Pee-yew!" said the other. 

Sure enough, there it was, floating downstream like a carrion kayak with half a dozen vultures on board.  And every bit as pee-yew'y as advertised.

That day was pretty much the end of the good weather.  It's been raining now for 4 days straight. 

Bike Eat Sleep Repeat may well be the order of my usual hierarchy of happiness.  Variety for me, like exercise for Maslow, is a given, as assumed as air, water, food, shelter. 

I am happy to be prone to wandering. 

And just as happy to have a good book on a rainy day. 

Which, of course, I would never have found if I hadn't been prone to wandering....