On believing in yourself...

This weekend, my hubby and I did the 25 Hour of Starvation Ridge race with our 6 person team, Mudfish Racing. We tried last year, but there was much bad luck, injuries, and I really didn't have the skills yet; we didn't finish the race. I went in with the reasonable goal of halving my lap time from last year (which was over 3 hours), and our team went in with one goal: to finish.

Months of preparation; lights, getting the bikes ready, putting together a team that would be dedicated to the goal to finish, and the skills to do so. Most of this year, I just planned on being pit crew. But, as mentioned in other posts, dirt biking has come together for me this year, finally. I'm not a fast rider, but I can do almost anything up through single black diamonds (my next skill needs to be bigger log hops. I think that's what's holding me ack right now. But I digress.)  I completed the six and twelve hour with ok times, and more importantly, successfully. And I finally started riding black diamond single track with relative ease.... They can still be at my challenge level, but I don't fall my way through them anymore. I also finally don't really feel anxiety on my dirt bike 95% of the time. And that other 5% makes sense! So, when decision time came for this race, I was in.

Friday came, Nathan had an orientation for Jury Duty, I got the final things packed, and then we were off! At Starvation Ridge by 3, we had plenty of time to set up, visit with friends, register, and even go into goldendale for dinner! If you ever get a chance to eat at The Glass Onion, try the fried cauliflower. It's amazing.

The rest of our team arrived, and we finished setting up and goofed off for a bit... A time check pushed us to our senses; gotta get some rest before the race!

The day of the 25 started clear. We'd survived the windstorm the night before, and felt ready for anything. The riders meeting started early. The start: the first racer in the team would be running a quarter mile over uneven ground to their bikes, which had to be laid on the ground. Our first rider got a great start!

The race was on. There was constantly something to do; tracking lap times so we'd know when to watch for people, prepping the next rider, making sure food and drinks were readily available, fetching this or that, putting on layers, taking off layers, it really was never ending. I was up third.  I wasn't a bit nervous; I had this.  

The race is constructed in three loops, with three checkpoints.  (This becomes very important later in this blog entry.)  Each loop is marked with some sticks and colored plastic, and there are mile markers as you go around.  The race this year was about 18 miles; very manageable.  Each team has one transponder that is transferred from rider to rider, and this year, we had a rugged phone we passed as well.  The non-racing team members are responsible for transferring these items from the racer returning from their lap to the one heading out to save time.  

And I was off.  Down into the race start, and through the woods; they are tight and twisty, but manageable.  I come out of the woods, around the corner, and... weird.  I accidentally put the bike in neutral.  I click down and up.  Oh $h*#.  That's not neutral.  I've thrown a chain.  I get my bike off the track, pull out the emergency phone, and a volunteer comes over.  Since I can't fix this on the track, I asked him to run my transponder back to the pit so the next rider can head out.  By the time I pull the phone out, turn it on, and call, Nathan is on his way to help.  I push my bike to the top of a hill, and he pushes it back to the pit.  I can't find a single person with a master link for a 420 chain, so I call the nearest motorcycle store and head out in the truck.  

If you ever get a chance to drive centerville highway on a non rainy day, do it! It's beautiful.  Maybe you'll see wild turkey like I did!  I get to the motorcycle store and find out we also need a tube; one of my teammates shredded his on his first lap.  Supplies gathered, I head back to the race.  Luckily I've done this repair before on my own, so I know I can do it.  But, even better; They're offering to fix my chain up quick so I can get my gear on and try my lap again! 

Geared up and ready, I wait for Nathan to get back.  I don't have to wait long; he's quick!  And I'm off.  Back through the woods, into the first flat area, and zoom! I roll on the throttle and it behaves exactly how a dirtbike should! Alright, this is going to be fun.  The first loop was so much fun.  Lots of wide, freshly churned farm land, minimal elevation changes, some short uphills and short drop offs. A gravel road, and then the hillclimb!  (We're still wondering if this is "Nissan Hill" or not, but that's not important.)  I see the hill, plan my bottom practically on my gas cap, and full throttle to the top!  I LOVE LOVE LOVE hill climbs these days.  I went a bit slow at each of the splits, because one was going to be marked for the easy way or the water hole.  Found it!  Ok, now we can complete this lap with confidence.  More wide open gravel road, more churned farm land, and then the first check point.  Well, that was easy.  

The second lap was more of the same, except we go to go through a farm house which is way cool. And there were some v-notches, ditches, etc.  Then, there was a drop off down hill bigger than I've done.... I hopped off my bike and quickly walked it down; Not the most efficient option, but it was quick and safe, and I was back on my way. Another up hill, easy peasy. I'm sure I'm missing many things, but they are details, to be relived viscerally in memory and dream, not terribly pertinent to this entry.  Checkpoint two done.... into a mudhole, thinking I remembered someone say take the right hand line, and oops!  That wasn't the dry or doable line; turn around try again on the left side, success!  On this lap, we get to ride through a farm house, and there was a lot more of the same; the miles flew by, and before I knew it, I was at the last check point. 1 hour 22 minutes; I'll take it; less than half of my time from last year!  I was safe, my bike was safe, and I could do another lap!  

In the midst of all of this, the rain had turned from a sprinkle to a steady rainfall.  The next rider went out, and the rain continued.  The afternoon turned to evening, and the conditions worsened.  Our riders were coming back describing extreme, slick as snot, deeper than front tires.  Nathan does his lap, next rider went out, and we powwow.  Nathan described the conditions in the dark and wet, and he said it was up to me, but he wouldn't recommend it.  He said it turned into double black diamond riding.  Now, if it was just trail riding, I'd probably just go for it.  But finishing this race depends on the team working together, and it's not just one persons ego.  So, we skipped my turn, and sent out a more experienced rider. The lap times grew longer, one rider completed the first loop and came back to the pit without finishing.  Nathan and I went for our nap, and another rider got stuck on the big hill, needing to be towed back because his bike overheated.  But, even with these glitches, we stuck to the plan... Never give up and never surrender!  We were not leaving this year without finishing the race!  The conditions started to improve.  Nathan and I got up to check in with the team.  One rider on deck, then Nathan.  I said I'd like to try one more lap since things were getting better.  The next rider went out, and Nathan got ready.  We waited, Nathan napping in full gear.  Would the rider make it back safely? Would he be calling for help?  Here he is!  He had a great time, and said conditions had improved.  He also described all of his challenges.  Totally doable, I think.  It's decision time; wake up the rider after me, or go out and do my lap.  I know, deep down, that I can do this.  I gear up and warm up my bike.  The sun is rising.  Nathan comes back, and says "it's a little better, not much."  Oh well; decision is made.  I can do this.

I start what will be our final lap.  The first loop, which before was easy, was almost impossible.  The mud threw my bike this way and that, sending me to the ground in short order.  Well, first fall out of the way.  Everything that had been easy was ridiculously hard; the churned farmland was just rutted mud, slicker than snot.  And some of it was tacky because it was drying out, so it sticks to anything on the bike not moving.  But, I'm moving, making progress.  The hill climb is in front of me, and I'm up!  Ok, I can do this!  The gravel roads were now mud roads; rather than 5th gear, I was in a solid 3rd for those. Somewhere on this lap, I get stuck on a hill with side whoops that I find my bike straddling.  I'm working my behind to turn the bike around and try a different line, when a volunteer comes over and gives me a push in the right direction.  I love the volunteers.  I see mile marker 3; 3 miles?  That's all I've gone?  Nathan has been talking about this before, but I've never felt/channeled anger to fuel my riding until this moment.  I got pissed.  "I'm going to finish this F*$%ing race" I say aloud in my helmet.  Repeatedly.  And I go faster, more aggressive, and it starts to come together. Crossing mud ruts was easier than paralleling them.  Slipping the clutch all the time, riding a gear higher than I need kept the back tire somewhat in line, but risked me killing the bike if I got too slow.  So, lots of first gear high revs, using the clutch to modulate what was happening.  I had to make peace with the fact that I may have a line chosen, but my bike had a very different plan for this ride.  I may point myself right and the bike may end up on the left side of the course.  Ok.  Letting go of control.  And using these on the fly learning experiences, I reach the first check point.  I'm pretty sure I dumped the bike on the way out of it.  Deep ruts, no speed, oh well.  Pick the bike up and go.  

Funnily, the course actually got easier after this.  I think this portion was a bit higher in elevation, so it was slightly less slick.  You could see dirt under the four inch top layer of mud in spots.  Some of the mud was tacky from the wind storm.  My new lesson was that not all the mud at Starvation Ridge is the same. Sometimes you have to lean forward and sometimes you have to lean back, depending where you have/need traction.  Sometimes you can roll on the throttle, and sometimes throttle sends you to the ground.  But, the rock garden, slightly challenging to pick my way through before, I just bounced through, grazing the tops of the rocks and tires sliding off rocks into the mud.  Way better than a dry rock garden. I miss a turn, see the farm house, and turn around to get back on course.   I am approaching my arch nemesis drop off; I hop off the bike, unsure how I'm making it down, but determine, when a volunteer who was hanging out offered to ride my bike down for me.  Ok... I slide down on my bottom, mud too slick and steep to walk, and I'm back on my way.  I get to an intersection with no markers left; I go the way it looks like the track goes, and see someone headed toward me at top speed. I interpret this as a wrong turn, but now I wonder if maybe he'd gotten off course.  Anyway, I follow him and realize the color of the ribbons has changed.  Now, there was a spot where the ribbons overlap, I remember from my first lap.  So, I continue until I head through the barn.  I KNOW the second check point is before the barn.  I call Scott, the race designer.  He coaches me back to the white ribbon 2nd loop course, and I have to redo the last 4-5 miles I just did.   Through the farm house, through the rock garden, and back to the big drop off; no volunteers. I can do this... a moment of panic, and I hop off my bike.  Leaning the bike against my hip, I slide downhill, using the clutch as my break.  Well, that was easy.  I'm off again.  I find the spot I made the wrong turn, go the right way, make it through the mile I missed, and to the check point.  5 more miles!  

The last lap was nothing to worry about. More of the same.  Balancing being careful and trying to just finish up quick, the miles count down.  A few people pass me and cheer me on.  Finally, the last check point.  They remove my transponder, and it looks like we are in 6th place (out of 7th I believe, 16 minutes behind the team in front of us.  Darn.  If I hadn't of missed that turn off.)  But, we met our team goal this year.  Last year, we learned a lot about prepping for this race, and this year we completed it.  

I pulled into our pit, and shared stories. I don't think Nathan thought I could do it.  It's been a long time in coming, but I finally feel like I know my own abilities.  I have a calm confidence about dirt biking.  With practice, maybe that confidence will include speed, but I am happy right now that I can conquer most terrain.  (we won't talk about lap times for that last lap; between dropping my bike multiple times and getting lost, I'm pretty sure it exceeded my last years times, and kept one more rider fro going out.)  

Which brings me to my point that I really mean this long and meandering post to be about. We all have an inner voice.  We need stillness to hear it, and life experiences to learn to trust it. Often this voice is drowned out by self doubt or the doubt of others.  My recent and not so recent explorations into the concepts of mindfulness have helped me to find and listen to that inner voice, and to discern when how accurate it is in the moment. I was incredibly grateful for that today.  I wanted our team to finish this race, and I knew without a doubt that I could do it. I think in life, I have been fortunate enough to have many experiences where I set my mind to something and finished it.  I had a funny thought in the middle of riding today, which was "This is harder than graduate school!" And in many ways, it was.  But I think I am able to build on those past experiences where I believed in myself and it worked out, in these moments where doubt could try to creep in. And, on that note, I'll just close with this message to myself, and to you, dear reader.   'always believe in yourself.  you are capable of more than you know, all that you dream.'

My companion, anxiety...

As long as humans have had conscious awareness, they have had had the opportunity to borrow worry or anxiety about their past or their future.  This is why, as long as 7000 years ago in the taoist traditions, there were mindfulness teachings.  So often, we think about our past experiences, and have feelings about our present life based on those.  We also worry about our future; will I be able to provide for my family?  Will I be able to go on vacation? Will I be able to retire?  You will never find me saying those things do not matter, but they often take our attention away from what we can do right here, right now. 

Today, in my daily dose of mindfulness, Russ Harris - the author of The Happiness Trap - reminded me about the concept of diffusion.  It is something I have been working on a bit with my riding, especially this weekend.  Diffusion in psychology can be described as 1) realizing that we are having thoughts and feelings 2) reminding ourselves that we are having thoughts and feelings and 3) noticing that we are reminding ourselves that we are having thoughts and feelings.  It's like taking a camera lens that is zoomed in, and backing it out to the actual perspective. 

I noticed this over the weekend.  My last offroading experience on my dual sport left me with a bruised tail bone.  Since then, I've been on a couple of gravel patches (very minor) and physiologically experienced anxiety - all my body hair stood on end, I felt fuzzy in my mind, my breath got shallow.  None of these patches were long enough for me to practice any anxiety management skills.  (Meanwhile, I've been riding black diamond single track on my dirt bike with no anxiety.  But I digress.)  Yesterday, we went on a dual sport ride with a great group of people.  As we started getting closer to gravel, I started to feel my blood pressure rise.  My instinct was to breathe, to calm my heart rate.  But, all this mindfulness practice this month has reminded me that the more I try to avoid this anxiety, the stronger it may become.  So, I did breathe, but I also let my mind notice what I was thinking.  I was locked into my thoughts and feelings about the past and the present; the 24 is in two weeks, I don't want to be injured for that.  My last dual sport ride ended with a bruised tail bone, a MOST unpleasant experience, and I don't want to deal with that.  To take a step back from these, I said to myself "I'm feeling worried about the past and the future."  It sounds small, but whether our thoughts and feelings are true or not, simply noticing that we are having them allows us to take a step back from them.  My mind tried to remind me that the last ride was not so successful, yaddy yadda yadda. I have a busy mind.  And I simply stayed present.  "I'm feeling worried about what happened last time.  My worry is there, even though that is not today."  I was able to then take the next step and say "I notice that I am worried about the past."  The lens zooms out again.  It's like seeing myself outside of myself.  I am not my thoughts and feelings, they are there.  I do not need to reach out and hold onto them.  I start to let myself notice my other thoughts and feelings.  "This forest with the changing leaves is beautiful.  I notice I am thinking about the forest."  "This road is wonderful for riding, I notice I am thinking about the road."  I tuned into the smell of the rain, the sounds of the wind rushing by my helmet.  So many thoughts, no reason to be caught by anxiety. 

And, the pleasant end to this story was that I just accepted that this anxiety wanted to walk with me for a while.  I think the anxiety wanted to protect me, but in reality, if I let it hook me, it will pull me away from my other thoughts, feelings, and skills.  So, I let it walk run beside me, joining me for my ride, until I got onto the gravel.  And then the anxiety, like an elusive deer, disappeared into the forest.  Because, as it turns out, I do know how to ride my bike on a gravel road.  And I do know when to challenge myself and when I am getting tired.  The anxiety did not appear for the rest of the day, and I didn't even really remember it until later, when recounting it's disappearance. 

I don't think of myself as an anxious person by nature. Perhaps until motorcycles, I just have not pushed myself outside of my comfort zone enough. Either way, I haven't had great skills to deal with the anxiety that has come with riding motorcycles.  What I have learned in the last four years, however, is that when I fight with it, ignore it, deny it, or otherwise try not to participate in the anxious experience, it sticks around.  And, when someone tries to help me with it, I get quite locked in to giving reasons why my anxiety makes sense.  When I simply notice and accept the anxiety, I can shift my attention from anxious thoughts and feelings to what matters in the moment, and that allows me to think about other things as well, such as avoiding the cones of fire (ie proper body position/counterleaning), using forward momentum to my advantage (ie going faster), and sliding my back tire (ie not jamming on the damned front brakes, since that's what caused my last crash.) And the best benefit to not engaging in this struggle?  My energy level for the activity is higher not being all used up by anxiety, so I get to have THAT MUCH MORE FUN!  And isn't that what life is all about?   

Countdown to the longest 24 hour race on the west coast...

Today is 27 days until the 25 hour race at Starvation Ridge, sponsored by the Over the Bars Gang.  Last year, we attempted this race.   About one year and three weeks ago, I stepped in as the 6th member on the team dropped out.  I was (appropriately) uncertain of my abilities, had watched videos and hoped the race was as easy as they looked, had plenty of doubt because everyone talked about the terrain being hard, plus night racing?  I can't hardly see in the dark, and truly, I could barely ride a dirt bike during the day.  I had the basics down, but as soon as any obstacle was placed in front of me -rock, root, hill, rut, I panicked and forgot everything I knew.  But I was trying so hard to learn, surely this race was a good idea?

Well, perhaps not. I started my lap terrified, because Nathan had been our starting racer, and had been literally knocked off of his bike by a competitor.  My new mission in life was to pull over and stop whenever I heard another bike approaching.  Good race strategy?  Not really. But it was a decent anxiety management strategy.  Completing perhaps the longest lap time in race history (it's not like Golf where the lowest score wins), I realized I was woefully unprepared for this race.  In the first mile, my bike got stuck, upright, in a mud rut.  I didn't have my normal back up crew to help me get it out.  So, I figured it out.  Then I got stuck on the first side hill, back tire sliding dangerously close to the pond.  30 minutes and sheer willpower of not wanting my name to go on the bloody lifevest of shame kept me on that hill, and finally moving over it.  Things went well for quite a while; I had only one fall, dowhill into the rock garden.  I was able to ride through the barn and the house, and finally back to the pit where my team members awaited, hoping to squeeze in one more daytime lap.  My first words were "I cannot do this at night."  Not long after, a monsoon hit central Washington, and by the time our riders all limped back to the pit, various body parts and bike parts bruised and broken, it was early morning, and we decided not to send out one more rider to finish the race. 

However, we did vow to train and complete the race this year.  Well, at least two members of my team did.  Not me. I said "I'll be pit crew.  I can stay up all night, man the phones, make food and warm drinks, etc.  I am not good enough to do this race."  But the year has progressed.  And someone planted the seed in my mind that maybe I could be on a team of lady riders, and do this just for fun.  And, the six hour came along, and I thought "what the heck.  I've been on this track, I'll be on a team with 3-4 other people, as long as I'm on the 'slow' team, I can race."  And I did.  And I had fun.  And we rode nearly every weekend.  And my skills finally (after 4 years) started to come together.  I could finally look at an obstacle and estimate how much speed is needed to get over it, and actually twist the throttle to make that happen.  And I started having more fun with the wildly out of control feeling my tires had sliding around on rocks and dirt.  So in the easy sections I started going faster, and brake sliding, and even throttle sliding just for kicks.  Along came the 12 hour race.  Again, I thought why not?  My skills were improving, and while in Bend, I went night riding by myself back and forth along the trail numbers I told to my hubby (in case they needed to find me) increasing my skill, improving my times, and bumping my confidence up to a new level.  The 12 hour race found me again in the "slow" group, but competitive and capable.    A couple of slips and falls in the silt, but no more than most other people reported.  The group of lady riders did not pan out.  But the idea of completing the 24 was lingering in my mind.  I set a goal for myself.  If I could do C loops at Jones Creek and find it easy, I'd reconsider the 24.  This seemed an almost impossible goal.  C loop has always been my archnemesis, with its long rocky uphill sections and it's downhill drop offs and turns.  We went to Jones Creek one day, and suddenly, it was like someone had smoothed out the terrain for me.  It was amazing how going faster (Thank you Nathan) made it so  much more possible.  I could just look down the trail and go, what bumped me side to side was overcome by forward momentum and detaching myself from the bike.  The 24 was coming, and I had met my goal.  I was in.

Then, the mild disaster of Rally in the Gorge and a bruised tail bone set in, two months before the 24  (See previous blog post.)  I've had two significant dirt bike injuries, and neither kept me off my bike for more than a couple weeks, even when they should have.  I decided this bruised tail bone would be the same.  After all, it only kept me off my street bike for one day. One week after the bruising, after a week where my work out routine involved laying on the couch and taking advil, we tried Jones Creek again.  Lifting my leg to kick my bike sent zinging pain all over my body.  I pushed on.  Riding standing up jostled my tail bone and send aching pain through my low back and legs.  Sitting down sent pain straight up my spine.  There was no amount of breathing that calmed this pain down.  Still, I wanted to ride.  We hopped on the top of C, and it was like I had been set back two years of riding... Too slow, each bounce jostled me, made me unable to think, and 20 feet in, I rode into the side of the cliff and dropped my bike.  Nathan convinced me to get off of the trail after a couple more bike drops, and we went to the bottom of A.  I could barely manage that; we did a quarter mile section twice, and then hopped on a gravel road.  Nathan's words, much as I hated to listen, were true.  "If you are saying it hurts, we should stop."  It's true.  Pain has never factored into riding for me.  I just ride through pain, I ride to forget pain, I don't even notice pain.  I was a mess.

That week, I happened to be in Vegas (ironically at a pain conference.)  I had time check in with Dr. Google about what to do.  (I always tell people not to do this.  But it can help.)  I found stretches to increase my blood flow into my tail bone area.  I took antiinflamitories regularly.  I changed my workout routine to include miles of walking daily before and after this conference.  And a week later, I returned home with the pain fading to a dull aching in my behind.  Still not dirt bike ready, but making progress.  It was during this time that I had to decide yes or no to the 24.  I was seeing steady progress, but the last time I'd tried to ride a dirt bike had been a disaster.  But I believed in myself, and I believed in the progress I was making.  I decided yes, I would ride this year.  I started walking and running to push my limits; could I jostle this area and no longer have the zinging pain?  Yes, finally yes I could.  We planned a dirt biking camping trip for the end of September, one month post injury.  This was the test; would I have to be the person who dropped out?  I talk with people frequently about the stress/pain connection, about living in the moment, being mindful, not borrowing trouble, but how hard it is to apply those skills in my own life at times.  We arrived at camp, set up, geared up, and took off.  Hey, look at that!  I know how to ride a dirt bike!  It's fun, and not excruciatingly painful!  We only rode an hour, and there was a small ache in my tail bone.  Nothing a little advil and laughing around the fire pit didn't cure. The next day we rode all day, including the boulder trail up to Capitol Peak.  Not only was I riding well and not hurting, I made it to a previously unreachable goal.  Things were looking up.

My current training regime/goal is 15-30 minutes of exercise before work, 1-2 hours after, and weekly dirt bike riding.  The beginning of the week usually starts with much energy, fading as the week goes on. I think it was last night that I said "sometimes I get onto the floor to stretch, and it just feels so good to lay down that I don't stretch."  But, I'm trying to stick with it.  I'm increasing fruits and veggies in my diet (because decreasing chocolate and potato chips just doesn't work.)  I'm taking fish oil and vitamin D and glucosamine daily.  These little rituals are important, whether they increase my strength and endurance or not. I am daily saying to myself that I am important, and need time to nurture my body. Not only am I saying this to myself, but I am backing up my words with actions.  Over the years, I have learned that I am not one to "exercise" but I am one to "train."  If I have a goal in mind, I will train daily, but if my goal is to exercise, it lasts about two days, even if I enjoy it.  I'm also not great at taking vitamins or supplements, but again, having this motivation for being in tip top health this month has helped me.  And this month happens to be The Mindfulness Summit, which is helping me to stay on track with my own meditation goals.  Because over the years of learning to dirt bike, I have discovered that I  have the knowledge and physical capacity for many things, but my mind gets in the way.  Mindfulness and meditation help me to focus my mind; not to worry about the past challenges I have had dirt biking, and not to worry about the future falls and injuries my mind wants to protect me from, but to stay present, in this moment, looking at this trail.  In a sense, the reason I fell in love with dirt biking was because I thought it allowed me to be 100% mindful; I literally couldn't think about anything else while I was doing it. However, I discovered that my mind was indeed busy borrowing trouble.  Increasing my meditation practice and refining my understanding of mindfulness is allowing me to find a way to refocus my energy on the present, and to become more accepting of the present.  When I started riding, I couldn't quench my thirst for reading about riding.  I'm finally able to apply some of them like "if it's already under your front tire, it's too late."  The idea of letting your body handle what is going on right now and looking where you want to be are immensely helpful, but hard to do when you have a habit of hitting every rock you want to miss and getting bounced all over and falling.  I have a choice in each moment; I can dwell on my past unsuccessful attempts, or I can be in this moment, looking forward and responding as needed. 

This past weekend, we RSVP'd for an intermediate ride.  This meant blue and black diamond single track for most of the day.  Single track has a history of giving me trouble.  First, my association with single track is hearing people carrying their bikes over huge obstacles or falling off of cliffs, which just doesn't sound fun to me.  Second, on my few single track attempts, I of course would go very slow, because I wanted my tire to stay on the path... unfortunately going slow leads to much handle bar wiggling, and the tire going off of the trail.  And third, due to this slowness, any obstacles that present themselves are essentially road blocks, because I had no momentum to over come them.  Nathan, on the other hand, has loved single track since he tried it.  It has been my goal since I started riding dirt bikes to ride single track with Nathan.  Amazingly, I went into the weekend with no fear.  Maybe this mindfulness stuff works, eh?  I just went in knowing that it would be what it would be, and I would handle it in the moment.  As an aside, I find that some days, with anything, but dirt biking included, I am on my game, and other days, I am off.  Not a lot of rhyme or reason, but it is what it is.  This weekend, as I started my day, I realized was not an "on my game" day.  I was having to correct more than usual and having to think more than usual.  Rather than letting this thought get the best of me, I just continued to be in the moment.  How am I going to handle this downhill?  This rock?  This corner?  I fell more than usual, but each time got up with a smile on my face.  (That's normal.... falling, unless I am badly hurt, makes me laugh.  Something about all the endorphines, adrenaline, and protective gear.)  The warm up ride did not go off without a hitch, but I let it all smoothly roll off my back.  (not so smoothly off my bike... I'm down half a clutch level.)  And Nathan checked in.  "That was the easy stuff.  Are you sure you're in?"  "You bet.  I'm just getting warmed up."  We went out, and had so much fun. Sure, there were some downhill turns that I know I did like a first season dirt biker, feet down, carrying the bike. And we did a 4x4 trail that was all rocks that kicked my butt.  But we found a black diamond playground that was just pure riding fun.  And we got to help cut in some new trail that essentially meant bush whacking through the forest that was a hoot.  I can see where I am right now, and that is a capable, confident, happy dirt biker.  I got to share a moment with my husband where I felt seen for the rider I am right now; not the incapable but good natured rider of the past, and not the fantasy rider of my future, but the rider I am right here, right now.

The 24 is just another ride; there will be challenges and times kept and night riding and lack of sleep, but I know, that if I can stay in the moment, I am prepared to face it all. 

2015 Rally in the Gorge

Have you gone to a motorcycle rally? Ever considered going? Last year, I heard about Rally in the Gorge, sponsored by Sound Rider. A motorcycle event for sport bikes, dual sports, and cruisers? Count me in! I'm all about the tearing down of artificial barriers that divide up our community. Too late to make it happen for 2014, I set my sites on attending this year, 2015.

Now we've done a lot of group dirt bike riding, but only two group rides on the street, and one of those was motorcycle serendipity. We've been to a couple motorcycle shows, but this was our first rally. I really had no idea what to expect.

Rally in the Gorge is held at the fairgrounds in Hood River, OR. This is a great facility that is fully fenced, has RV water and power hookups, lots of space for camping, and indoor and outdoor space for presentations. Nathan took the trailer out Wednesday afternoon, and I rode out after work Wednesday night. Originally I had envisioned motorcycle camping, but with the unpredictability of the northwest weather and a desire to bring our puppy Moto and a variety of gear, the trailer was chosen, and I later became very grateful for that choice. Since I was finishing out my workday, Nathan had time to meet everyone in Registration. This led to a great welcoming party when I got there! I felt right at home from the moment I rolled through the gate.

I got my registration bracelet, parked my bike, and headed back to the main hall to socialize. One of the first people I met was a guy who had ridden all the way from Wisconsin for this rally. That's dedication! Nathan and I also quickly purchased a dual sport riding book full of awesome routes that we can't wait to try.

The evening movie was some isle of man tt I think. Underwhelming by our standards, but I hadn't had dinner and there was free popcorn, so that worked out. Moto made herself right at home and found and ate every piece of dropped popcorn. She's very social, and met everyone in the hall. We eventually headed back to the trailer to plan for Thursday. Nathan was interested in finding people to ride with, and I was interested in hearing Gary LaPlante speak. He wrote what we refer to as our 'dirt bike bible'.  We decided to rise early enough to hang out for free coffee, and see what riding opportunities presented themselves. I was willing to skip the presentation if the other riders weren't interested. After her exciting day, Moto put herself to bed, exhausted. Done planning, we followed suit, all the comforts of home at our disposal.

Thursday morning arrived much too early. I think I was excited and nervous, so I woke up before 5. Moto was awake with the sun, so she and I got right to work with our morning duties, letting Nathan sleep a bit longer.  

It wasn't long before he was up and ready for coffee. We met some other folks interested in an easy dual sport ride, as well as seeing the talk, so everybody won! The talk was great; a lot of what we already agreed with, but still good reminders. 

We got our gear and bikes, and chose the hardest dual sport ride to head to. With trepidation and the knowledge that there were many bail out roads, I set off. Nathan was in front, headed toward our dirt Nirvana on the highway near Mount Hood when his bike started to wobble something awful. Flat tire. Luckily between everyone there, we had what we needed to air it up, and with five miles between us and Government Camp, we decided to see if the tire would hold. A couple miles later, we discovered no. No air. Refill, and hope to find slime in Government Camp. Great lesson for us; when we ride alone, we ride prepapred, but we hadn't come very prepared for this rally. We'll always have our slime and air on us after this. Luckily the slime worked, but we knew it was a temporary fix, so we headed back to camp. We offered to split off from the group, but they wanted to ride back with us. This is one of the awesome things about the people at Rally in the Gorge. Great values.

Another awesome feature of this rally is All Moto Tire.  Nathan had already spotted his dream tire, and they were being offered for a great price. And the tire guy would mount them for you!  When we rolled back in, he thought he wouldn't have time to do the change, because his wife was needing to go to the nearby clinic. Turns out the clinic opened late on Thursdays, so he popped Nathan's bike up on the stand and Nathan had a fresh tube and rockin' Heidenau tire practically before we could blink! This guy is fast!

So, back on the road. We chose a slightly shorter dual sport adventure, Nestor Peak/Monte Cristo, and our group was down to three. We rode across a grated bridge that went forever! The tires wandered and wandered, but all was well.  Some fabulous roads, and then there we were! On the dirt. I turned my ABS off and started to go. Now, I say dirt, but it was really just a gravel road. For a while. Then a harder gravel road, then some silty whoops, and then poof... A long stretch of silt and I'm off my bike in a dust cloud. I stuck both thumbs in the air to let Nathan know I was ok, and he helped me get my bike up. 

Turns out my brain had turned off and I was doing everything opposite of what I was supposed to. I was leaned forward, but needed to lean back. Slipping the clutch? How could I have forgotten that? And going faster, right. Put all that in place and I was off. Until the BIG rocky hill climb. Suddenly I'm on the ground again. Stopped on a hill, overwhelmed by the bouncing. Do I want to go to the top or turn around? Go to the top, of course! Nathan and Sean held my bike, gave me a bit of a push, and I made it.

We enjoyed the view for a while while I let my nerves settle. Hauling this big BMW around off road is a lot harder than my little kx 100. I'm just not transferring the skills I worked so hard to learn on my kx. We head back down the hill.... I must be getting tired. Two more tip overs, lost half a clutch lever, but I'm fine. The way back is beautiful and easy, both of which I'm ready for. Right at the end of the dirt, a deer crossed my path, gently and gracefully.

We head back to camp looking forward to the BMW sponsored burger feed. It does not disappoint. Great burgers, potato salad, chips, drinks, it was all there. There were some door prizes, and I won a pair of Raiden waterproof gloves! What a prize for a glove princess like me! Later, we settled in with a lovely group from the Christian Motorcycle Association for a campfire, smores, and chatting. It got later and later, and we finally had to call it a night, because I was taking an off road class in the morning! And Nathan was headed to the Giant Loop gnarly ride.

Friday arrived. We brought enough bagels, eggs, and bananas to eat breakfast bagels and bananas daily; always good to fill up on hearty healthy food before a full day. We met a cool guy named Cedric that is doing the Palelo diet, and he was taking the off road class too. Time to get geared up and ride. Nathan and I went out seperate ways. I have been looking forward to this class for a long time, and even more after yesterdays adventures. I took the women's class, taught by Jason, aka Captain America, with Dirt First. It was just the right blend of skills, encouragement, repitition, and memorable phrases. My favorites were 'keep your butt away from the cone of fire' and 'on the street, you lean your body, then your bike, and on the dirt you lean your bike, and then your body.' At the end, we got to hop a log, and that was by far the highlight for me.

After class, I waited for Nathan to return. I was hoping for a short practice ride. But then I got a text; someone in his group had a flat tire, then an injury, then another injury. It was a while before they got back! Meanwhile, Moto was befriending anyone with food, and she met some great people for me to sit and visit with. Nathan got back and I traded my motorcycle boots for a bottle of beer. Time to watch the gromstacle course!

The gromstacle course is a stroke of genius. Timed races on a tight course, anyone can sign up. I wanted to, but I chickened out at the thought of an audience. Maybe next year. Gary LaPlante won the pro class! More raffles, and Nathan and I went into town for dinner. When we got back, we hung out at the Giant Loop fire pit, and met more cool people. We chatted the night away until I could keep my eyes open no longer.

Saturday was another day to ride! We thought about Barlow again, but decided to finish out Monte Cristo and have lunch in a little town I've forgotten the name of. Today's ride included the awesome Tracy Jeffries, Adam Black, who won the non-pro class of the Gromstacle Course, and Bruce, an awesome rider who put knobbies on his Sportster 1200 and rides it off road.

Across the grated bridge we headed, and up the same gravel road as before. Right at the start, we see the cutest thing ever. There's a large black dog carrying an orange tabby kitten by the scruff of the neck. The kitten escaped and toddler over, finding a comfortable resting spot under the Harley. We were all overcome with cuteness. Eventually, we get the pets returned to their home and set off.  I don't know how I look, but I feel confident. We ride up toward the challenging hill. I decide not to push my luck so early in the ride, and just the three boys take off toward the lookout, while Tracy and I visit about life, love, and motorcycles. The boys got back, and we were off again. Down the beautiful gravel road, and onto the next section of our adventure.

The Monte Cristo section was a blast! There were tons of whoops, and it was by far the most fun I've ever had on the BMW off road. And, on the trail there was a log.... Time to practice my log hop! As we rode, it started sprinkling. Then raining, then pouring. By the time we got to lunch, Nathan was soaked and freezing. I found out my coat us no longer waterproof, and leaves me kinda damp. But I got to test out my new raiden gloves. That was fun.

Lunch was amazing. Nathan and I split the hickory burger and huckleberry pie. Yummy! 

Then it was back to camp.   On the way off the mountain, the weather cleared. We got back, and decided to do another ride! I realize now that this was not my best idea, but at the time, it seemed good.

We headed off to middle mountain. This was super close to camp, which really confused the GPS. It took a few tries, but eventually we were on our way. The road became deep gravel, and I realized I was tired... Not physically, but a special tired I experience specifically with motorcycles. Read any of my past posts, and you'll see; riding does not come naturally to me. I'm stubbornly determined to learn, and to eventually do well, but in the process we've coined such phrases as 'dirt bike drunk' to describe the state I get to when my brain can't handle the fear, fast thinking, or physical exertion any more. I realize I'm getting to this point, but its a short ride. I figure I'll be ok. I know I'm slowing down and it's causing me issues. But I start to feel better. The gravel gets less deep. I'm trying to use my new skills. We get to the top where a gate is closed. So many fire closures. Time to turn around. Tracy offers to ride with me, and to give me feedback. Tiredness and fear are climbing... A steep rocky hill, I slow down too much, look at the ground, then I'm on the ground. Shoot. I try getting my bike up myself, to no avail. Gotta wait for Tracy to get back. She helps me get my bike up and rides behind me for a while. Turns out, I wasn't avoiding the cones of fire as well as I thought. I start to exaggerate more, and feel the difference. The exhaustion is pushed out by this little victory! We see the boys parked by the road, and as I ride up to join them, my confidence has overcome my guard... Down I go again. Nathan says I grabbed too much front brake, which tipped the bike over. Unfortunately I land on my back and experience pain about equal to my ACL tear. It took a while, but I did get back on my bike and rode back to camp. Such a good day, ending in discouragement, pain, and embarrassment. We got back to camp, and instead of socializing, did some prepping for leaving Sunday. Exhausted, we both fell asleep early.

Sunday was rainy. But, a pancake breakfast was on the horizon, so off we went! Oh yum.... These guys know how to make a pancake breakfast. Eggs with bacon bits, blueberry pancakes, sausage, fresh cut fruit! And there was a presentation about motorcycle safety, one of my favorite topics. Life is good, if painful.

It was time to say goodbye and pack up the bikes. I'd planned to ride home, bruised booty and all, but Nathan figured out how to get two bikes into the trailer. In between rain showers, we loaded the bikes, and headed home.

My take-aways from the weekend... I'd definitely go again. This was an awesome event with great people. I loved being reminded of Gary LaPlante's philosophy 'what are you working on.' Because in motorcycling, there's always something to work on. For me, counter-leaning off road will take some work. But I didn't realize how clumsy my braking skills are in gravel. That's really got to be my next focus, once I can sit my booty back on a bike. We learned to be more prepared for emergencies; as I type, Nathan is permanently mounting ways to fix flats for us to his bike.

Overall, the weekend was bliss. I got to hang out with Nathan, doing our favorite thing, with no threat of work interruptions. That was amazing. We got to make new friends together. I got to watch Moto melt peoples hearts. For our first motorcycle rally, I'd say the 2015 Rally in the Gorge was an outstanding success.

How can I not?

I was recently asked "how can you work here and ride a motorcycle?"  I suppose for that question to make sense, the context may be helpful.  The person who asked was most familiar with the fact that I work with people who are recovering from a Traumatic Brain Injury.  I also specialize in helping people cope with persistent pain.  This, of course, is not the first time this question has come my way, in some fashion or another.  And it left me thinking...

First, let me ask you, what do you love to do.  Do you love your job?  (Cheers! Me too.  We are among the lucky minority it would seem.)  Do you love caring for your children?  Do you love to ride a bicycle?  How about hiking?  Do you like road trips?  Driving to visit family?  Skiing, snowboarding, skateboarding, surfing?  What is it that you love to do?  What makes your life interesting, meaningful, and fun? 

Stop for a minute, and see if you can remember ever hearing about someone being injured doing these activities.  Because I have.  Almost everything I do in the course of the day before getting on and after getting off of my motorcycle, I have seen people endure pain or brain injury from.  What sort of life would it be if we asked people to stop caring for their homes because they might get hurt?  To stop spending time with their family?  To stop working?  That's preposterous, you might say.  But in every activity there is risk.  And if we let that risk stop us, we are living a life based in fear.

What if instead, we ask what makes you come alive?  How will you know that you have lived a life worth living?  What is your passion?  How do you know your life is in balance?  What if I asked you those questions, and helped you to build a life based on their answers?  What if we respected other peoples answers to those questions, even as they are different from our own? 

Like all of you, I am a complex person.  I love my partner beyond belief.  I love my kids in ways I cannot describe.  I can spend an evening chatting with friends and have no idea where the hours went.  I like to smile at babies in the grocery store, and pet other peoples dogs on hikes.  I love to talk with people, to understand what is meaningful to them, and to help them figure out how to pursue their best life.  I like going for walks and catching a surprise scent of roses, or discovering I am suddenly in the middle of a bog.  I love to snuggle into the couch with soft blankets, and fall asleep while my family watches TV, my puppy's curled behind my knees.  I love to camp, sitting around the campfire at night, drifting off to sleep unplugged from civilization, waking to the sun and the birds.  And I love to ride motorcycles. 

On this list, are motorcycles statistically more risky than the other activities?  Sure.  But the joy from each of those activities makes the others even more fulfilling.  Each of the passions I describe above shine a light of joy on the others, making the other activities that much better.  Take one out, the others shine less bright. Fear is also exponential.  If we remove an activity we want to do because of fear, we will also have more fear in the other activities we love.  Take out riding motorcycles, and suddenly we wonder if we are safe driving in a car to visit with friends.  And we notice the number of hikers that have fallen from trails this year.  And walking alone becomes riskier, because we may fall or be attacked.  Airplanes?  Statistically safer than driving, but hard to fathom.  Oh, that brings us to driving; one of the most dangerous activities most of us do on a daily basis. Nixed from the list. Suddenly, the risks are in focus, and nothing is safe. 

Our brain tends to follow a path.  A path of self confidence, curiousity, and optimism or of fear, distrust, and pessimism.  (or pick any path between these two extremes...)  We practice this neural pathway over and over and over.  And I choose to practice joy, optimism, freedom, and wonder.  Which leads me to anser the question "how can you ride a motorcycle?" with "How can I not?"

Why I loved Inside Out

Inside Out.... While it's a rare movie I can't wait to see, from the moment I saw the preview for Inside Out, I couldn't wait for its release. I was not disappointed; I laughed and cried and laughed and cried. My therapist heart sang.... Finally! As a society, we can talk about feelings! And in a fairly intelligent way! Our personality being made of distinct islands (tendencys) formed and colored by core memories? I'm on board with that. That memories are changed by the current context? Neurobiology says yes. While we sleep, our brain is discarding unused information to become more effecient? Excellent personification of a process we don't completely understand yet.

So what happens in this movie? I've seen an occassional review that complains 'nothing.' I suppose at its most basic level, the plot line is that a girl moves to San Francisco when her dad gets a job transfer. But rather than the plot, I see that as the setting in which the real story unfolds.

The real plot asks us 'what makes us human? What are our feelings? How do we develop emotionally? What is the meaning of family? Of struggle? Of change?  What is the difference between saddness and depression? What are the protective factors and risk factors for an emotion shifting into something beyond our coping skills?'

I suppose if you are looking for Hollywood's epic adventures with sex, violence, and explosions, this may not be the movie for you. And if you are expecting the movie industry to have resolved its gender, racial, and class biases all in one movie, it's not quite there.

However, Inside Out gives us all a way to conceptualize our sense of self in a way that is more complex than our standard conversations about self. "What do you do for work? What do you do for fun? Weather, politics, sports talk, blah, blah, blah..." These fall back topics are not who we are.  This movie tackles how our memories affect both our current feeling, our mood, and our overarching sense of self.  This movie gives us a picture of how our that process is recripocal; whichever feeling is at the control panel can influence our perception of that memory. And this movie challenges the platitude 'don't be sad. You have so much to be happy about.' This movie shows us that our saddness (and the complexity of our emotional experience) is what lets us experience empathy, lets us sit alongside those who are struggling and to wittness their pain, and through that experience, gives them the ability to manage their emotions and continue moving forward.

And the movie captures all of this and more in scene after relatable scene. This movie connects us to our process of maturing, moving away from pure simplistic emotions, and to our understanding that most situations present mixed emotions, and that we have power over which parts of those experiences we focus on. This movie tackles expectations, and how they can get us into trouble. This movie tackles resiliance, and how in our early years, our family helps us form our resilience. And this movie tackles how it is the challenges in life that help us to grow into more fully developed individuals. This movie even lets parents off the hook to a healthy degree. The good foundation built by loving parents leaves a lot of room for missteps and mistakes, and those mistakes leave space to deepen the parent child bond.

Do I understand the critics frusturated with the lack of social progress displayed in our media? Sure. But to have a movie that gives us a language to talk about our feelings, memories, depression, family, core experiences, subconscious, dreams, empathy, and the formation of self being dependent on both our experiences and our perception and interpretation of those experiences for me overshadows the pieces Pixar missed the mark on. I hope that in the discussions I have, those other cultural elements will figure in and help me to better understand other people's experiences. But that will only add to the wonder that is Inside Out.

This blog will now return to your previously identified topic of motorcycles. Please forgive this interruption.