Jane Victoria King: A Fresh Thinker

Just Sayin'

2012-01-31T22:57:00.000-08:00

This popped into my head the other night just as I was going to sleep.
I'd been speaking with my son earlier in the day about school. He's finally hooked onto something he wants to set his sights on.
As always, money comes into play. For him, it's school or the car. Not sure he'll be able to do both.
So I sent him an email the next day:

"If you don't take the leap, you'll never know how far you can jump!"

Connecting the Dots

2012-01-29T20:36:00.000-08:00

Been ajournalist almost all of my life.

It started when I was nine. I had this affinity for writing down cool quotes onscraps of paper. Things people said. In person. On the TV.

I’d bundlethem up into a pile and there they would sit.

Sometimelater I’d write something. Picking and choosing the relevance as I went along.

My time innewspapers and magazines has come and gone. Same with television.

I’m herenow. In the blogosphere. Still tuning in though.

Last year Icaught a re-run of an in-person interview with The Right Honourable Paul Martin. The topic was Aboriginals.

It wasn’tlong after I had returned from a volunteer experience in Uganda. Documentingthe hope. Helping out in an HIV/AIDS clinic.

It struckme hard. Here we are, so many of us – travelling overseas to help out when we havesome serious issues, very similar to what’s going on in Africa for example, inour own backyard.

What are wedoing about them?
Are we helping to restore clean drinking water? Building schools? TeachingEnglish?
Nope.

Which hadme asking the question.
How can we?
So I contacted the Right Honourable Paul Martin’s office.

Educationinitiatives, funding, establishing that kind of assistance to help the growingpopulation is all in the works.

But whatcan I do?

Like, you and me.

It took awhile (six months actually). Last week, I heard back.

The answer.

Inspire.

I do media.I write. Take pictures. Currently I’m studying Electronic Media Design.

The Right Honourable Paul Martin’s assistant suggested I contact the Regional Chief and then some nearby Aboriginal schools andgo in and speak with the students.

Educate andinspire them in what I’ve done with my life, so hopefully they’ll want tofinish school and carry on. Find hope for their future.

That’s easyI thought to myself after I hung up the phone.

It’s notmaking clean water or getting rid of mouldy housing. But maybe in a small wayit will help.

Give them hopefor living.

For life.

Training Love

2012-01-27T12:32:00.000-08:00

Can hardly wait for theweekends. Not just because it’s the weekend.

Because I know I can get in along ride and not feel rushed.

This morning I booted out thedoor at 5:30am for a Bikram Yoga class. The plan is to set myself up for thepedal to the metal by aligning and strengthening my flexibility.

Balance and core are also key tothe build up of mileage.

It was magic this morning. Ibecome more tuned into my body each class. I don’t have time for everyday. WhenI go, it counts.

Since sourcing trainingprograms and speaking with pals, those in the know I’ve come up with a regimethat time permitting I plan to stick with.

Doesn’t matter the weather.The weekend rides, back to back slow go, build the base are the light in thesky.

This morning as I bent overeyes to my thighs, sweat rolling down between my legs, head to my knees, Iasked my temple to take me there.

I also asked for forgivenessfor any bad I’ve done in the past.

There’s only good from nowon.

Training love.

Spin Spun Fun

2012-01-25T21:51:00.000-08:00

Facebook has it’s advantages.Like planting seeds.

In your head that is.

Somehow I got a LIKE on the newCadence Spin Studio in Vancouver.

Not sure which “Friend” ledme there.

Seems the rage these days.They’re popping up everywhere.

Which is great.

More folks are cycling.Gearing up for the RBC GranFondo Whistler or Kelowna.

Or like me, the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer.

Cripey, I started spin classes at the YMCA in Victoria a few years ago now. Remember my son’s fathersaying, “You’d love them.”
Sure enough, rather then intervals on some side street in the rain - spinninginside is the next best thing.

Pumping tunes. Pedaling energyall around. You’re amongst like-minded passionate cyclists.

They’ve got to be.

Only thing is - the cost.

First class was free for metoday. To give the studio a try. I got a wicked Wednesday wake-up with Becky.

Sure I sweat buckets. Lovedthe new bikes. Music was great. I got a banana afterwards.

But $22 for a drop-in? For 45minutes.

Yikes.

No question, the rush you feelafterwards is addictive.

As a student, I’ll have toweigh in on my weekly allotment of exercise expenditures.

Minus one Bikram Yoga 90minute class for one 45 minute spin?

On the positive side, atleast you can do drop-ins on either.

Lower LOVE

2012-01-22T22:12:00.000-08:00

Spent twohours in the gym today.

It wasmiserable outside.

Started offwith a spin on a stationary. Got to the fat burn heart rate, which for my age Iguestimated to be 114.

Hung outfor half an hour. Then hit the mat for some stretching, core, back and thedreaded push-ups.

Prettypleased I had the time.

Got to theplanks and concentrated solely and the flab in the mirror. Not the clock.

Going toget there. I am, I am.

Not like “Sam,I am.” Like I have a goal and I’m going to get there.

Weight Watchers On-Line to peel the bouncy stuff. Constant consultations with pals andthose in the know for a training program.

Consistency.Consistency. Consistency.

Mostimportantly, making the time.

Went to thelower leg weight routine. I spun off some squats, lunges, presses, curls,calves and left the hip abductors to last.

I LOVE thehip abductor machine.

My hipsscream at me after a long ride. I do Bikram Yoga to balance everything backout. Seems to work the best for me.

But thiship abductor machine.

We aregoing to be hanging out a lot.

LOVEworking the lowers.

Withweights that is.

N.B. Since searching more information on the hip abductor machine on-line, I've since learned the hip abductor exercises are better done standing up with rubber bands. Less strain to the spine.

Soul Talk

2012-01-21T23:13:00.000-08:00

Read this charismatic line today.

“…the empire of the soul.”

In Chapter Two of Chromophobia by David Batchelor.

It struck me hard.

Who is the empire of oursouls?

Well. I suggest it’s you, meand I of course.

We are the champions of oursouls. We are the rulers.

But are we though?

Earlier in the day I’d felt achange of spirit.

It wasn’t too cold outside.No rain. The snow was gone.

Won’t be long, spring will behere.

From the outside looking in,is it what we see, feel, hear, touch, smell and taste that governs our souls?
That rules the empire of our souls?

Think about it.

Does it come from theoutside, the inside, or both?

Happy Computer

2012-01-19T22:14:00.000-08:00

Migratingan old Mac to a new Mac can be a chore. Especially when you’re me. Technicallychallenged.

It took methree times before I thought I got it right.

Tuesday I downloadeda schwack of HD footage for my Final Cut Pro X class.

Then thefans started coming on. My battery life went down to zilch. I was baffled.

They weren’tturning off.

Even atnight.

Too much onthe desktop maybe?
Nope.

Advice fromhere and there – re-install. Start all over again. But before that dump the goods to a back-up drive.

Finally Iwent to the be all and know all. The Coordinator of my Program.

“Should Ibook it into the Mac store?” I ask sullenly.

While stillunder warranty a “Diagnostic” test was advised.

The forumsI’d read clearly indicated, “Houston, you have a serious problem.”
Before heading over I tried one last thing.
MacKeeper.

Then I hadto plug in and sure enough the fans fired up again.

I’d beenhaving issues when logging in. As well as with iTunes. So I broke down. But Icalled first.

Was told two to four days. First come first served.

But… but,but I’m an EMD student… I need my computer!

I arrive.Pathetic all over my face.

I’m giventime. I’ve given expertise. I met a GENIUS!

Yup, theMac Station dude fixed me up.

Got hisgoat on the iTunes issue but he killed it.

And broughtmy computer back to life.

Happycomputer.

Happy ME!

Editing Life

2012-01-17T21:59:00.000-08:00

As Istepped off the boat onto the dock and into the snow I saw unfamiliar tracks.Ahead of me was the owner.

A Great Blue Heron.

Gingerly Iapproached as time had crept up on me. I was walking and I needed more then Ihad to get to school in time.

Slowly itgave way and proceeded ahead of me. Not to flutter and fly away, but to moveaside.

It was abeautiful moment.

Werespected each other’s space and purpose.

Thisafternoon in Final Cut Pro X class, Alec our teacher began in ernst a discussionon cutting footage.

On editinglife.

Momentscaptured in time on video with audio, that which may never ever be seen orheard again.

We don’t keepwhat we don’t want to remember.

“Editing isabout selecting the moments in time,” he explains.

The crap isgone.

Like whatwe choose to remember.

When weedit our life.

Hey MOJO!

2012-01-15T17:03:00.000-08:00

There’s snow in themountains. The clarity in the evening sky is scattered arrays of orange andblue with hints of grey.

I conclude. I think it’s beenmisplaced! Or I’ve lost it.

My mojo that is.

Haven’t hit the gym, yogo orridden the bike even this weekend.

Like the ebb and flow of thetides, suppose the spirit can make it’s own choices.

Dang cold out there!

Given it’s been a plethora ofsocializing since Friday, I’m numb with disbelief.

Where the heck did it go?
It’s like a horse running full steam ahead and then feet firmly planted itstops. Nope. That horse isn’t going to jump over that ditch with water in it…or whatever.

Sometimes things getmisplaced.

Heading off now.

To look for my MOJO.

Random Conversations

2012-01-13T14:15:00.000-08:00

The bike isa getter. I’m cruising along this morning and this guy pulls up beside me onhis rollerblades (only in Vancouver).

“I rodeacross Canada last summer, you should do it,” he says.

Like, howdid he know that was on my bucket list?

So random.

We chat, hesays he’s not sure what to do next. I suggest Europe. France, Italy (also on mybucket list).

Then hetells me about a web site that some pals who he rode with talked about.Waterscape. Cycling routesalong canals and waterways in Great Britian.

Now that’dbe cool.

My mind gotmeandering. I’d heard on the radio this morning the regrets people have ontheir death-beds. Like working too hard. Not enough time with friends. Notliving their dreams.

Too many nots.

Only yesterday a friend ofa friend’s committed suicide.

How lifecan change in the wink of an eye.

So for theremainder of my roll to school I tried to hatch a plan on how touse my learned school skills in Electronic Media Design - upon graduation, andcreate a job to get paid to do what I love. Engage and inspire others, byriding my bike across Canada.

All sparkedby a random conversation.

So random.

Shining Souls

2012-01-10T21:52:00.000-08:00

Alwaysthere is hope.

Which is easyto say.

Had an oldboyfriend who played that fiddle on me the morning after we’d had sex.

“I havehope!” he would declare.

Maybe Iwasn’t half bad. Or maybe he just wasn’t getting it enough. Who knows where hisbrain was at.

As it turned out, we didn’t last too long anyway.

Three fullmoons ago I met a stranger, who became a friend.

I lovewhere I am at in my life. It’s easy for me to slither around. I’ve learned howto accept what is. To be in the now. To think good thoughts. To not allow frictionto raise my heckles. To stay calm. Feet firmly planted.

Art fills myheart with joy. So does creative thinking. Music.

Same with old souls

There’salways a great connection.

In findingthis new friend, surprisingly I found more out about myself.

Yes, I supposelife is school. Except you never really graduate.

In his eyesI saw a bright, bright future full of the zest for life and for living. Butsadly, it came with a very dark cloud over his shoulder.

Alcoholism.

It’s beenalmost seven years since I got rid of mine. I could see where he was at. I accepted everything about him. Didn't think any less.

Fun isalways had when we are together. So is wonderful conversation, sometimes even dancing.

Hints of acrossroads for him prompted me to provide some resources. Subtlety I gave whatI could, what I knew.

But at adistance.

Every oncein a while we would connect again. When it was right for him.

Traces ofhope started to emerge. I fed more. Again, I stood back.

This was something I didn't realize about myself. Usually I am a take the bull by the horns type of person. An action taker, when I see something that needs to be done. I do it.

At whatever cost.

Dad always used to say, "Patience is a virtue, a virtue which I have none."

Daily Ifind myself consumed with hope for him. He is in my every thought. That he will find the peace he needs tofree himself. To reach out for the help he needs.

To save his shining soul.

To Yield the Results

2012-01-08T19:04:00.000-08:00

Getting going is hard. Once you start, things get easier.

Providingyou’re consistent.

I am happyto have a goal. Not only for my physical well-being, but for the health ofothers. The Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer, Challenge Course (160km a daytimes two) in June, 2012.

Not easythough when to think back in May I was a shattered soul, hopelessly limpingaround with a cane and a sling. Edging up the addiction to emotional eating.Just cause (I fractured my pelvis and clavicle).

It’s aminimum or should be anyway, 1.5 hours if you’re training for any kind ofcycling distance and heading out. Lately I’ve been reading about the amount oftime you can cut off a good hill climb when you’re shy the bulge.

I’mambitious today. Have no clue the route. These roads are new to me. Let’s seeif I can knock off two hours just for fun.

I eat abanana. No snacks to pack. A to go cup of green tea and a water bottle.

TheScottish mist turns to drizzle. I decide to clock my distance and time againstmy Cat Eye with the iPhone app Endomondo which, coincidently shouts out eachkilometer and the time it took.

Managed toforget my glasses, which worked out fine with the downpour that came.

Thecommuter jacket and the paddling gloves kept me warm. So did the booties.

At 45minutes I approach a long climb.

There are acouple runners ahead of me.

Who’s goingto get to the top first I think to myself? I should be able to gitty-up and goahead!

I did try.

As we roundthe corner I manage to pedal past.

It’s flat.

Crap, Ithought to myself. Am I that slow? Am I that out of shape?
Yes and yes. And overweight.

All I haveto do is keep going I say to myself.

It will get easier.

To yield theresults.

If you’reinterested in supporting my Ride to Conquer Cancer, please visit the top leftlink on my blog page for all the details.

Time Lapsed Love

2012-01-05T23:26:00.000-08:00

Real ornot.

Taken.

Then fallen.

Lost todismay.

A cloudhovers.

Bright, yetdark.

Masked byfear.

Is thereanother?

He tells me yes.

My heartdangles.

We speak.

Fondmemories.

Fun.

Laughter.

Dancing.

Music.

Coincidences.

Is itreally true?

I amanother.

More mind misperceptions.

Misunderstandings.

The sunrises.

The sunsets.

Bewilderedconcentration.

Gracespeaks.

It is a falselove.

Goal Triggers

2012-01-04T19:59:00.000-08:00

Can lifeget boring?

Suppose so,if you make it.

Life can alsochange without notice.

There’s nothinglike saying you’re going to do something. And then doing it.

Call it agoal. A focus or a change of scene.

Whatmakes that happen?
Somebody or something points you in a new direction, perhaps. The realizationit’s time to do something different. Maybe, because your heart told you so.

But so often,we don’t listen to our hearts.

I live inla la land a lot. It’s true.

I hold outvisions of epic adventures. Hurtling explorations into the divine depths ofhumanity. Bringing people together.

Explainingone’s dream often swells and pairs up with reality and the word, “HOW and withwhat?”

Does itreally matter?

Not thehow, it’s the why. The WHY NOT!

Set somegoals, dreams or purposes. Hold on to them.

Never letthem go.

Sooner orlater, you may come an inch closer to what holds you dear.

Goaltriggers.

They can dothat.

Ringing in 2012

2012-01-02T17:03:00.000-08:00

Not the end– a new beginning

For some it’stime to start over.
Not me. It’s an excuse to celebrate.

I’ve beensingle for years and often spend New Year’s Eve with family or alone. This year Ichose to be amongst strangers.

Multi-mediais my new game. So I headed down to the W2 Media Cafe for some strolling.

A largedance floor in the basement, another upstairs. I melted into the crowd. Sussingout the eye candy. I warped my eyes into the charismatic colours all over thescreens.

Cruisingfrom one floor to the next I found the views of the faces interesting.

I wasn’tthe only fourty plus er in attendance!

Lots oftimes on New Year’s Eve people talk on self-reflection. Personally, familywise, community and globally.

When I lookback I think relevance. Everything that happened had it’s place.

And it’s OKI said to myself to be alone. I accept that.

I alsoaccept and am grateful for everything I’ve done in my life and especially whereI am today. I look forward to the future. In my own way, making a difference tothe world as best as I can – by being me.

Then thisline popped into my head as I danced my way into the New Year.

Be who YOUare and LIVE your dreams.

Then allaround you will be fine.

Happy 2012.

You Guys - NOT!

2011-12-30T20:48:00.000-08:00

Guess some things never change. Like the slang of the generic greeting by most customer service representatives of this generation.

Mum used to tell off a waitress, especially if she came over to us women and said, “What would you guys like?”

What’s wrong with “Hello people!”

Or hello there?

My typical response when it crosses my eardrums is, “I’m actually a woman, not a guy.”

How and why do you suppose this generation got so hung up on, “You guys?”

I’m stuck on that one.

Just sayin’…

Old School Says Who?

2011-12-28T20:42:00.000-08:00

Maybe I ama little old fashioned. Although a lot of me has changed with the times.

Heck. Iremember using a Telex machine before the now email. I can also recall thefirst use of the Fax machine, before email and PDFs hit the airwaves.

Yes, I evenlearned how to type on the manual hand cranker. With the raised keyboards.Granny style now I suppose.

Now I have a MacBook Pro that I carry around with me wherever I go.

Happened tomention to someone today that I’d only just traded in my old film cameraequipment so I could get a new digital lens. I worked in newspaper when black and white film was developed in a darkroom. Before the age of digital.

Ironically,this young digital artist had done the exact opposite. I found that surprising and interesting.

Tonight I was bent on finding a video store. You know, the one you can walk around in andlook at the covers of ALL of the DVDs currently in the swing. Check out this week's top ten rentals. For curiosity's sake.

As I throwmy take on the counter at Rogers reflecting to the cashier that it took me a while tofind the store, her reply made me sad.

“We’re oneof only two left in Vancouver.”

Sure Idownload movies and TV shows (I don’t have cable) from iTunes, but it’s not thesame.

Forstarters, I like fondling the covers of the DVD. And watching it on something other then my computer.

When you rent a DVD you get more then the DVD. I lookforward to hanging out and viewing the Special Features.

Nope, I don’twant to spend $25 on individual DVDs to build up a library.

Suppose maybe I amold school… in some ways.

Blue Collar, White Collar – Yellow Collar?

2011-12-26T22:09:00.000-08:00

Had aconversation today, which brought about a bit of a gap.

We werespeaking about the employment of a couple we know. Both happened to be in theblue collar sector.

That beggedmy question.

If you’renot a white collar, say office worker – nor a blue collar say labouror… thenwhat are you?
Say you’re an artist. What collar colour does that make you?

Had a kneeslapper the other day when my sink was plugged and I complained about it to mymother (aged 74), she replied by text with, “Ask the experts… Google.”

Of coursetonight when I Googled white collar workers, I thought for fun maybe an artistwould be a purple collar worker.

Not so.

Apparentlya purple collar refers to someone who sells marijuana.

A red collar worker is someone in China.

Which leftin my mind a yellow collar.

Bingo!

Yes, yellow collars are for us creative types.

So youknow.

Christmas and Holiday Traditions

2011-12-25T21:28:00.000-08:00

Somehow we’dget to sleep. Excitement brewing. It was the night before Christmas.

Cookies andorange juice put out by the fireplace for Santa Claus. A note with colouredpencil crayons.

The bestpart of the morning was feeling the lump of my stocking at the end of the bed.Filled with little gifts neatly wrapped. Always an orange and jube jubes in thebottom.

Thestocking was the start of Christmas day.

Only crumbswould be left on Santa’s plate.

Unravelingthe memories of childhood. I think to today.

The timewith family and friends. All together. The essence of last week and tomorrow forgotten.The mind in the sharing of the holiday.

Wrapped inlove and joy, a dinner of turkey, gravy, winter vegetables and cheer.

I’ve mademy own traditions.

Thecranberry-orange chutney. The ginger-molasses cookies. Shaped in hearts. Sprinkledwith love.

Even for mylittle nieces.

They getsomething straight from my heart.

Ma’s OpenHouse on Christmas Eve lives on.

This year’scross-generational guests presumed innocence.

What adelight to giggle and share all the yearnings for the year. Fantasizing thenon-fictions for the future.

It was so pleasurabletoday to read an pal’s Facebook post. The skid of consumerism slowly beingunfolded to a donation of choice to a developing country. Aid for water, foodor education. Their choice.
His children are young teenagers.

Oldtraditions, new traditions.

We're certainly in charge of making are own holiday traditions.

Aren't we!

Going Back

2011-12-22T22:58:00.000-08:00

There wouldhave been cars out front. Not the horse and carriage era.

Was on myway to meet a couple cool ladies (Ahem Productions and Media Rising) this morning and what should appear before mebut the very building that greeted my world.

So I saidto myself. What was the world like then?

I admit tobeing a fan of what I am hearing now, may be a short-lived television seriescalled Pan Am. Simply because, that era of art, dress, hair, and prominence so ticklesmy fancy – rather quite. Dare I admit, it’s set in the mid-60’s. Yes, aroundthe time I was born.

Ironicallyas the lovely ladies and I chatter away the morning to the early afternoonhours, an interesting topic of discussion arises.

The future,passions and desires. Long-term goals.

Then thequestion.

What is it weso desired when we were eight years old?

So the theory goes - it’s likely the closest to the root of what yoursoul desires. Eternal character development has by then been set.

That got methinking again.

Perhaps nowis a good time to think about where you are and where you want to go, but byfirst going back.

To when youwere eight.

Pretty sureI was on the see my name in bright lights - dancer and movie star kick at thattime.

A Visit in the Hurt Locker

2011-12-21T21:47:00.000-08:00

It getseasier I keep telling myself.

After 45minutes, not even to 20km I’m cooking.

In the hurtlocker. The aft end of the pain cave.

It’sdefinitely at the zero degree mark outside. Beautiful. No rain. I forgot thearm warmers, the toes are numb.

Another 45minutes I keep telling myself. Get ‘er done.

Heart's pumping, I'm pushing. Legs are circling. Pedal stroke down.

Knowing isbelieving. Sticking to the drill.

“The bodywill follow the mind…”

I stay thecourse. Yes, getting ‘er done.

Tomorrow’sanother day.

Each daywill get better.

Have tokeep going.

I do and completejust under 1.5 hours on my road bike before 9:30 a.m. this morning.

Notcompletely out of the hurt locker yet…

But atleast I’m on my way.

Trainingfor the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer Challenge Course (160km a day) June16-17, 2012.

What My Bike Carried For Me

2011-12-20T23:13:00.000-08:00

On the ferry!

I love mybikes. All of them.

I used tohave three.

Now I’mdown to two.

Bikes andboats. Well, that’s another story.

Today Itook my roadie for a journey. As I’m away a week and now in gear to get some crosstraining and particularly some base time in (roadie squeak for easy riding…) Ihad to pack it all.

The roadgear, the gym gear, the swim gear, the yoga gear, the running gear, thesleeping gear, the got to do the Christmas Cranberry Chutney gear, etc.

So with abackpack of computer gear (homework to do too!), thy purse, etc. I loaded her (the red bike) up.

We packedour way to the bus, then the Canada Line and another bus, then a ferry.

The dude atthe ramp says to me, “You can ride to the end!”

Ha! I got achuckle.

Too muchstuff!!!

Buy hey; ifI didn’t have the rattrap on the back it would have been a real schmozzle.

Lookingforward to a roll in the morning.

TheEnbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer training is on!

Dang Sink

2011-12-19T21:34:00.000-08:00

It onlytook eight years.

Triedreally hard not to.

Made every attempt not to.

Really.

It’s just.Well, the coffee.

Problem now is.Everything on a boat, when it comes to plumbing isn’t exactly normal.

Sizes aredifferent. Complications arise.

At this point I’m stumped.

Was told toshove the garden hose at full blast down the hatch. Wait for the explosion andthen all should be good.

That’d be amess.

I opted forthe soda and vinegar.

So far noluck.

I dread thethought of trying to take things apart.

As you cansee below (that’s the engine down there)… it’s a little complex.

Any other great ideas?

Buying Time

2011-12-17T23:03:00.000-08:00

Moments may mean driftingapart.

A soul might sing a differentsong.

Given the gap of a day, aweek or a month.

We rumble on.

Not always thinking the same.

Maybe, wallowing away.

Not knowing.

Is it day or night?

When tomorrow comes.

What happened to yesterday?

We take what we have.

When it’s there.

What we’ve got.

Facing the Challenge

2011-12-15T21:14:00.001-08:00

Doesn’ttake long to go back from where you came from. When it comes to loosing weight and being fit.

I claim anexcuse.

Six monthsago I fell off my road bike and fractured my pelvis in two places, along with my clavicle.

Now I wasn’tat prime but I was heading to being in the best shape of my life.

Thesethings happen for a reason.

So now I’mhealed up and geared up to go.

Except forthe goal.

Cycling islike having a lover on two wheels. The bike takes you places. You constantly experiencea wonder lust of endorphin rushes and feelings of gratitude. Especially afterany long ride.

Recently Iattended some talks on the epic endurance athletic lifestyle. I shook my headin disbelief with the one comments that seems to have stuck.

The bodywill follow the mind.

Like noamount of suffering can change that?
Last night I dial in on the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer orientation. Idecided after the recent passing of a friend that I would ride in his honour.

The goal isset.

Coincidentallythe same day I hear of an elderly family member with a confirmed diagnosis.

So I’m in.But on the Conference Call it’s revealed that the Challenge Course for which Isigned up for is 160km a day, times two.

Starttraining now. Oh yeah!

Superscared. YES!

Know I’llhave to get a new bike. What if I hold everyone up? Are the dudes that aresuper fast going to be the ones that ride it? Will I be the only woman?

Can I dothis?
Today I decide. Yes. My mind has said yes.

So to startthings off I walk into a Bikram Yoga class today to asses the muscles and themass (body fat).

Mirrors don’tlie. No question the body fat index needs to point down, down, like wayyyyy down…..

The class,well it was a sufferfest. The teacher favoured the icon of symbolism for metoday.

“Let yourmind believe you’re doing the right thing for your body…”

And yes,everything else will follow.

Well heregoes nothing!

Kudos to the Teachers

2011-12-13T22:48:00.000-08:00

Doesn’t happen overnight. Figuring out certain coding in the web world. For me anyway.
I’m pulling my hair out today. Still trying to work out the HTML5 and CSS syntaxes for a web site build.
Thought I had it nailed till in came three images and one div, all to be lined up side by side, some padding here and there. A background colour.

No worky.
Still no worky.
Went to the bathroom.
Came back, tried again.
Got some water.
Another try.
The mind went for a walkabout.
Got sidetracked. Daily drama. Onto Gmail for some pinging.
A moment of silence then the kindness of a certain teacher.
Messaged me about another project (also coding) that I’d spent a LONG time on (also pulling my hair out on)… passed along some kudos on the work I did on my finals.
Made me happy. Spread a grin.
I muddled on.
Still haven’t finished.
Kudos to all my teachers though.
I won’t give up.