Oh how I love riding in the rain...

I was riding home from work yesterday, feeling the joy that comes with being on the bike, rain running down my visor, splashing through puddles.  Why?  Why do I love riding in the rain so much?

I think I feel so connected to the world, but still a little apart.  I love seeing the rain, smelling it, and feeling the cool breeze, while I'm cozy and protected by my visor, my heat, my thermal lining. But I'm still there, I'm still in it.

My mind wandered... it reminded me of the years I spent working in the criminal justice system.  I'd never
been around substance abuse, I'd never been involved with the law outside of a couple of tickets, and I'd never even supported a family member dealing with those challenges. But, when I was there, I connected with the core of people.  I understood their struggle, their lives made sense to me.  I never tried to change any of my clients, but strove every single day to give them one positive contact with the system.  Because sometimes, one positive contact is all it takes for a minor course correction.

View through my visor

It reminded me of times I'd made big life changes, taking the plunge into a new situation, a new state, a new social group.  That feeling of being part of, but apart from.

My mind wandered again to when I started riding a motorcycle.  I remember because I was, honestly, quite the terrible rider, feeling like a fraud as I waved to other riders.  Feeling a part of that world, but outside of it.
And then I thought about all of the people in this world who are in it, but don't feel a part of it at all.  Perhaps they are a cultural minority, or perhaps they are homeless.  I thought about stories I've heard of being completely invisible when you are in a wheel chair.  Perhaps someone's mental health keeps them from fully connecting to themselves or others, they simply hold on to an existence in this world, without feeling a part of it.


It reminded me of the recent influx of veterans I've seen in my work; people who returned from Vietnam, and were made unwelcome where they belonged; people who were shunned when they needed love.  People whose daymares and nightmares are as real as the screen I type on before me. People who find love but struggle to hold onto connection, their very understandable fears holding the ones they want close at a distance.

It reminded me of people who have been through other traumas, who don't understand why their anxiety lingers, interfering at inconvenient moments.  And people with persistent pain, who struggle to be in this moment, because this moment is so very physically uncomfortable.  And people who wish they didn't feel they had to be here on this earth any more; people who believe there is a promise of peace and ease in the next world.

I looked through the rain, tapping on my visor, feeling so very grateful to feel connected.  Moving through time and space in a way I loved.  Knowing a loving partner was waiting for me at home, with a wiggly little puppy who was going to need a lot of kisses.  Adoring my two daughters who are striving to live their best life, make great decisions, and have adventures that are meaningful to them.  That my parents wait for my motorcycle stories with mixed emotions; joy that I love it so much, and fear about all the things that could go wrong.  Feeling connected, really connected to great friends.  In this world, we are ultimately alone, but because everyone else is too, we are sublimely connected.

Winter Blues and Winter Fixes....

I'm a four season rider in the Pacific Northwest, where it is truly possible to ride all four seasons.  However, that doesn't mean it's a good idea to ride every day.  We do get the occasional snow and ice, and the past two years, I've hit ice patches commuting to work that woke me up, but luckily didn't send me down.  This year, I've been trying to be a bit more responsible about which days I choose to ride,, and taking four wheels if it's iffy.

This means rather than riding daily, I'm riding 1-2 times a week, and I feel it in my energy levels.  I'm starting to think I've got an adrenaline addiction; without riding, I'm a bit more sleepy when I get to work, and a bit less perky at the end of my day.  But, our winters are usually mild, so I also keep hoping we've gotten the snow out of our system for a bit, and I can go back to riding daily after the new year.

However, it's not all doom and gloom.  To get my fix in a different way, I've started working on a Women's ADV magazine.  http://womenadvriders.com/  This has stretched me in a dozen new ways already, and I look forward to stretching in even more directions.

It has made me ponder the difference between my blogging and magazine writing.  In blogging, I'm journaling, and sharing with the thought that perhaps someone else has felt this way, and might be interested in reading a fellow travelers perspective. Or they have never felt something I'm describing, but reading about it broadens their perspective. Or perhaps no body reads it, but I've gotten to process my feelings in writing, and I can move forward in a new way.  For the magazine, I am always thinking about my intent and my audience.  I want to write things that either inspire or inform.  It's no longer about my process, but about reaching out and communicating.  I've also realized that my photography skills and equipment may need some upgrading to do a better job.  And, as someone who is frequently writing about working on a bike as a novice and riding skills, I'm really working on how to effectively communicate my experiences in those areas.

Another piece of fun that has happened is that we bought a little 1996 Geo Metro to meet my occasional commuting needs.  Nathan and I have gotten to do some tinkering on it, and I got to drive it in said snow, and made some discoveries.  Having grown up in California, I never learned to drive in the snow.  Even living in Spokane for 5 years, I learned that I had no idea how to drive in the snow unless the roads were plowed.  However, hanging out with Nathan and riding a motorcycle off road somehow accidentally taught me how to drive in the snow!  My four point basic lesson was 1) stay calm.  I've had lots of experience learning how to keep myself calm while riding, and it translated to driving in the snow.  2) Keep your momentum up.  So many cars were abandoned during our recent snow storm due to people getting stuck on hills.  3) Be smooth on the controls.  This is related to staying calm.  When I am all tensed up and panicked, I tend to jam on the brakes and give too much steering input.  When I am calm, I just gently nudge the car where it needs to go.  4) Brake, then turn.  This is something I learned in motorcycling that somehow I'd never learned before.  Using these skills and sticking to main roads (I know the unplowed hills were an impossibility) I safely made it home with not a single scary moment.

The sun is out today and tomorrow, so I'm hoping to shake some of these winter blues with at least a sort ride.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my friends and family!

Adventure girls need downtime too, even when they don't want it...

A couple days ago, I got up like everything was normal, started getting dressed, and zow!  A muscle spasm in my back.  I'd never experienced anything like it. All the tools I teach my clients? Yeah right, breathe... Breathing freaking hurts! Stretching wasn't happening.  And I had to wake Nathan to reach the Advil, because my arms wouldn't move over my head.  Don't catastrophize?  Whatever.

Luckily advil and ice calmed the spasm, and I was able to start implementing the tools.  Don't catastrophize; this doesn't mean you are never riding your motorcycle again.  Slow deep breaths.  Stretch.  A little more.  And more.  Good.

I worked a short day, saw a chiropractor for the first time, and spent Friday on the couch, watching Gilmore Girls and blogging.  By Saturday, the pain was manageable, though my back was stiff.  I stretched and yoga-ed first thing in the morning, and headed to the Torque Wenches meeting.

What I discovered is that I suck at downtime.  Time alone I'm good at.  Put me on a bike in a helmet alone for hours, and I'm happy.  Put me in the woods, actually, with little to do, and I'm happy.  Put me on a couch for 10 hours, and I go STIR CRAZY.

People plan this stuff...."I'm going to do laundry and binge watch TV tomorrow."  Thank goodness I hadn't blogged our ride yet, or I'd have been out of my mind.  Reading wasn't the best option, because holding a book or phone was challenging for my sore upper back.  Though now that I think about it, I can read on my laptop with kindle.  Noting that for the next time I'm forced to take downtime.

So much of life is about Balance.  The night before this happened, I was busy planning every minute of the weekend 15 different ways to run by Nathan to see what he thought.  Perhaps the muscle spasm is a sign that I need to slow down a bit.  Stop falling off my motorcycles.  Stop planning every minute.

The other good part was that I got to hang out with Moto.

She just can't stop being cute.  

I'm not sure exactly what life is trying to teach me right now.  Perhaps I'm too stubborn to hear the lesson, but somewhere out there, I think there's a message... Next weekend Orygun Run, the weekend after California, the weekend after Camping.... Maybe I needed a quiet weekend and wasn't giving myself the time.  It's hard, when the weather is so ideal and the bike is calling my name.  

It has made me realize how far outside of my routine I have gotten since coming back from Utah.  No yoga, very little home training.  I set my alarm for 4:35 for Monday; I was going to go sooner, but the chiropractor recommended waiting a bit.  Yoga will start again.  I also was able to practice my yoga poses at home, at a slow and gentle pace.  

I am on the mend, but I think the lesson that always needs to be relearned is balance.  I cannot do to my body the things I do if I am unwilling to participate in daily training.  And I also need to look at the possibility that I am overscheduling myself. Being mindful of these two things, I will stretch and ride and move forward, until the next ailment lands me on the couch... hopefully with good balance, that will be postponed for a while.

a funny thing happened...

In the last couple week, something happened.  I can pinpoint the exact ride when I realized it, even though it's been a journey, not a destination.  Two weeks ago, when I was be bopping around Portland, I realized that I had gotten bored with being scared.  For months, since I had gotten the BMW, every time I took it off road, or looked at a narrow u-turn on the street, I could feel the pit in my stomach, my hands would shake, and I'd get fuzzy in the brain.... somewhere between mild panic and terror.  But, that day, I was on my own. I ended up in some awkward needing to turn around situations (ie, I must get a picture of my bike in front of that awesome brick wall, or oops I turned down a dead end road.)  I followed street signs that indicated worse and worse roads in Portland, and rode through rutted mud.  I didn't turn on my GPS to find my way, but instead explored based on whichever way struck my fancy.  And, I realized that spot in my stomach where the fear started was hollow.  I had the urge to drive up on a sidewalk and take a picture, so I did.  Then I realized I was on my own and in a predicament, so I just had to get down off that sidewalk, no other choice.

I came home wanting to write about it, but (ironically) was scared that the fear wasn't really gone.  So I waited.  Did some more riding, playing, challenging myself.  We took our bikes to Millican Valley last weekend, with the intention of getting me some off road practice (without pouring rain was the perk to driving that far.)  Nathan fully expected to spend the weekend on gravel roads.  We did ride gravel roads.  It was so much fun!  Way more fun than riding while managing a pit of anxiety in my stomach and shaking hands.  We found a large hill.  No problem.  We found a puddle... Ok, that didn't go so smoothly, but at least it was a soft mud landing. We did the same gravel road over and over, my confidence building each time.  We did that gravel road at night!  That was a feat... I can't see well at night, but my awesome headlight kept me on track.

The next day we started on gravel roads, but I was up for the next challenge.  How about green trails?  So we were of.  The trails out there are sandy dirt, firmed up by the moisture, with gentle, wide bermed turns.  We did that, and at each intersection, Nathan would check in with the group.  We all wanted to keep going, so we did.  The trail, though still rated a green, took a turn for the more extreme... a patch of rocks to pick my way through, a larger patch of larger rocks to pick my way through... Slightly deeper sand.  It was fascinating... Evidently, the boredom with being scared stuck, but there were some well rehearsed pathways in my brain doubting my ability.  I stopped, decided that my only option was to actually ride it, and then I picked a speed, picked a line, and found my way through more complex rocky sections.  The sand tried taking me out, but a slip of the clutch and a roll of the throttle kept me going.  Even the major rocky section Nathan stopped to warn me about was not a problem... steady speed, lean back, ignore the fact that it sounded like the rocks were trying to remove my skidplate, and go!   Fist pump and a F*** yeah as after that one.

I can't say for sure the fear is gone, but it's at least on an extended vacation.  Meanwhile, I'm building positive experiences and seat time.

After this weekend, on a seemingly unrelated note, I had some time in my expressive arts therapy group to do some creating on the theme peace, love, and serenity.

My art is simply self expression; I love sending it to Nathan, just to share.  He texted back "they both have holes."  Hm.... very much how I felt when I had been looking for that unfamiliar pit of anxiety over the last couple weeks.  Like everything around it is there, where it is supposed to be, but something is missing.  How funny the subconscious can be....

making the unconscious conscious, and other lessons....

Yesterday, we set out to explore some gravel roads we'd heard about from our friend.  We were accompanied by said friend and his partner, and started the day with a warm breakfast and lots of laughter.  Which has nothing to do with the point of this blog, but set the tone for the day.  We set out on familiar roads, becoming more and more rural as we headed toward skyline blvd.  As we rose in elevation, there were little bits of snow sparkling in the grass by the road.  Pretty.  As we continued to ride, the little bits of snow turned into reasonable piles of snow, especially for Oregon.  We continued, the roads were mostly dry from the past few days of cold sun and local traffic. We finally arrived at our first gravel road.  I had a bit of trepidation; I've encountered bits of ice on the road before, and instinctively stood up, let the bike do it's thing, didn't touch the gas or the breaks, and planned my next move while in motion.  I've also had some challenges getting used to the BMW as an off road motorcycle, though each trip seems to be getting progressively better.  The first times I off roaded it, I would get so nervous my hands would shake.  The last time was quite successful, so I wasn't nervous going into this ride, but aware that those feelings have been around in the past.  The gravel road was 75% clear, 25% patches of ice.  Interesting, still no anxiety or fear.  Ok, let's do this.  I said out loud, No Front Brake.  I've gotten into trouble jamming on the front brake too hard in the past.  I know how to ride, but sometimes my feelings get in the way of my knowledge.  If I remind myself, it puts into my conscious awareness the correct way to off road.  We went down that road until it ended, and turned around.  So far so good!  We stopped on the way back to play in the snow and take pictures.  Lots of fun!  We decided to continue to head to another gravel road.  Challenge level rose... More shade, more curves, more ice.  But, at the end of this gravel road, a jeep trail beckoned, so down we went.  It was actually a lot of fun.  Some nervous moments, but really, it was becoming just plain fun. In the back of my mind, as we went up the curves, I remember thinking "eventually, we may have to come down this" but hope lingered that we'd just continue on and not have to come back. Denial is my friend. We made it to the jeep trail, and Nathan did some scouting... The Jeep trail was quite slick, so we decided to turn around.  Coming back, things got interesting.  The corner where the thought occurred to me on the way up approached; We all stopped.  Nathan offered to ride my bike, but my stubborn streak reared its head.  I watched Nathan do it, I watched Tim do it with a passenger,  I could do it too, darn it.  I started out... so far so good; barely at the balance point, but I didn't have to worry about the bike getting slower going down hill on ice, I just needed to let it coast.  Suddenly, without even thinking about it, I had picked up a small amount of speed.  I don't remember doing it, but I must have just tapped my rear brake.  The rear tire, which had been so nicely in line with the front tire, started to slide downhill, and the bike started to tip.  This seemed to be happening in slow motion... there was a bit of screaming happening (that was me) and in the intercom Daphnie says "Kris is down" and hops off the back of Tim's bike. I let everyone know I'm fine, and consider trying to pick my bike up, but I can't even stand to the side of my bike, the hill is so slippery.  Nathan got it up, and coasted it downhill for me.  I watched him, and knew that was what I'd meant to do!  We discovered a bent shift level, an easy fix.  We met a fellow adventure rider, who said the road on the other side of the mountain was in better shape, so we rode that road too, before heading back to pavement for lunch.

The lesson here is a new flavor for an old dish; I've now had a muscle memory experience of what it's like to hit the rear brakes unconsciously. It ended up being an injury free and low cost learning experience.  Because so much of personal growth depends on making the unconscious conscious.  I have a colleague and friend who used to say "I don't think we ever get rid of our 'stuff'', we just get better at dealing with it.'  I think that's true; motorsports may never come as naturally to me as some of my other skills, but as long as I continue to be willing to delve into my unconscious fears and automatic reactions, my progress continues. And my progress is very important to me.  I fantasize about riding in an undeveloped country with minimal developed roads, or doing a backroads discovery tour.  I am committed to my learning and building my skills.

The other awesome take away from yesterday is that I'm starting to have fun on my adventure bike.  With each ride, I conquer something new; it's not the terrain or the bike that is the problem, it is the internal questions about my own capabilities.  With more experience is coming more confidence, and the inner doubts are quieting.  The more success I have, the more I want to do.  And the more I want to do, the more opportunity will manifest.  I'm delighted to be having more fun.  And, I'm also delighted to be have this opportunity for personal growth; I've never had anything challenge me as much as motorcycles, but I've also never done anything that has really developed my present moment awareness, tapped into my sense of adventure, and given me the deep pleasure and passion that motorcycling has given me.

on 'taking myself' places

I've noticed an interesting phenomenon in myself.  When we were on our honeymoon, and I arrived at Yosemite, I felt an amazing sense of accomplishment.  I had "taken myself" to Yosemite.  You spend your life having people take you places.  This is a good thing; let me take you to the movies, to my favorite resturaunt, on a hike.  But, as my husband will surely attest, I am a very independent person.  And taking myself to Yosemite for the first time was meaningful.  The honeymoon continued, and this phrase forgotten, life went on.

A few months later, we moved about 300 miles away.  The day we moved all of our belongings, it became obvious that me riding my motorcycle down rather than trailering it was a practical option due to space.  Always excited to ride, I definitely put up no argument to this idea.  As I rode south behind two trailers full of our possessions, I had a lot of time for reflection.  This idea of "taking myself to our new home" was front and center.

Riding a motorcycle is the ultimate in independence.  You can have people teach you, it's always nice to have people to ride with, but ultimately, you are the one watching the road or the trail, you are watching the cars as they move themselves obliviously around the tarmac, you are watching for people's eyes, subtle shifts in tire position, erratic behavior, oncoming vehicles, animals, pedestrians, and debris.  Additionally, for a verbal processor like me, there is the conversation going on between different parts of myself.  There is the watchful part, ever careful of the drivers around me.  There is the excited gleeful part, that seems to almost always be present on a motorcycle.  There is the mindful part, checking in with my physical being - am I hungry? thirsty? tired? sore? anything that may dull my senses?  And there is this other part.  I can only describe it as feeling completely connected to my sensory experience.  The sights, sounds, smells, feelings, and sometimes tastes are so vibrant when riding. And it's just me.  No one is having the experience I am having in that moment, and it's nearly impossible to share moment to moment experience as I am encapsulated in the bubble of my helmet.

At times, especially off road, I become faced with my inner monsters; the fear monster, the anxiety monster, the embarrassment monster, and the I don't know how to do that monster.  Again and again, I face these monsters, again drawing upon my independent spirit to take myself back to the truck; often, there is little other option.  And recently, starting to ride a dual sport, not only do I get to face these trail monsters, but I get to take myself to the trail, and back home.

I find myself needing to feed my independence.  I don't want to be an island; I love people and connection.  I adore my partner who celebrates my independence and takes it in stride.  I have found two big things that feed this independence: being a therapist and riding my motorcycle.  I have learned that there is an interconnectedness that intermingles with independence.  On my bike, I am still part of a larger riding community, evidenced by the waves of fellow motorcyclists.  I am part of the societal contract that gives us rules for the road.  I am always part of a family, whether or not they are with me at the time.  As a therapist, I am always only a small part of someone's life.  They too, brought themselves to my office in some fashion.  I am always part of a team, and part of the larger helping community.  Yet in both of these instances, it is my compass that guides my decisions, helps me to decide when to reach out for help, and guides me toward fulfilling my dreams.  I take myself to unexplored territory, confident, independent, and always connected.

The impending test...

To be endorsed in the State of Washington to ride a motorcycle, you have to pass a written test to get your permit, and a skills test to get your license.  This test is designed to be a fair evaluation of your skills.  It includes a cone weave, doing a quick stop, turning from a stop, swerving, and a U-turn in 20 feet.  To be transparent, I don't usually have test anxiety, but that lack of anxiety comes from preparing for the test beforehand.  So, my fiancée has been kind enough to help me learn the skills for my test that I am supposed to learn on Saturday in the class I have signed up for.  I'm not out of the woods yet, but at least I'm making progress!

This process has made me reflect on other big tests I've had to take over the course of my life. I barely remember the SAT, or the psychology GRE at the end of my bachelors.  Recently I've had to take two long multiple choice examinations in order to get my professional licenses.  But these tests don't stand out as the types of tests that really evaluate the skills they want to evaluate.  When I try to think of tests that evaluate important life skills, I think of my grad school comprehensive examination.  In this examination, we had to complete and defend a thesis style paper about our theory of human nature and counseling, conceptualize a client from this viewpoint, videotape and then transcribe a session in which we utilize skills and concepts from our theory in the session.  While presenting this, we had to be open to feedback from our professors about our strengths and weaknesses.  Now, when you have put your whole heart and soul into articulating your understanding of people and how they work, and videotaped yourself acting in that way, it can be quite challenging to then accept feedback about how you were right or wrong in your conceptualization.  And yet, that was the point of the experience.  As a counselor, I have to be open to feedback from my clients, my supervisors, lawyers, judges, co-workers, and administrative workers.  Ignoring feedback from any one of these people could compromise my job, and often it informs what direction I need to take with my client.  Because with everything in life, there are limits.  There are limits to insurance, there are limits to confidentiality, there are limits to people's goodwill toward you.  And all of these things affect a counseling relationship whether we want them to or not.

In the same way, as I learn to ride a motorcycle, I need to stay open to feedback.  I have had moments where this is easy, and moments where this is hard.  But, with my lack of experience, I need to stay open to feedback that tells me what I am doing right, which skills I need to work on, and what aspects of my environment I completely overlooked.  It is only in staying open to this feedback that I will be able to become a safe and competent rider.

Tests are designed to evaluate what we know.  Everything in life can present a test in its own way.  My goal is to stay open to feedback each day of my life, allowing myself to really hear what the other person is trying to communicate, and reflecting on how it applies to me or my situation.  When the big tests come, I hope to have the skills and the support in order to meet them with confidence.  And meanwhile, I hope I pass my motorcycle endorsement test this Saturday.

2014...

At the beginning of last year, I had a strange thing happen.  For the last 5 or so years of my life, I have organized myself around achieving a professional goal of becoming a LMHC (Licensed Mental Health Professional) and a CDP (Chemical Dependency Professional.)  There has been lots of living in those five years as well, but of all the things in this world that there were to do, my professional goals remained in full focus.  As of late January, 2013, I had achieved both of those. I became a girl looking for direction.  Or joyful in the lack of it. I knew eventually I would develop a new driving force, but I felt a bit like a boat in the sea without an anchor, or a butterfly free of it's cocoon.

I still wanted to be a good mom to my daughter, helping her achieve her high school goals.  I wanted to be a good partner to my boyfriend, who I adored.  I had just gotten back on my dirtbike, after finally taking some time off to heal from an injury (a post I haven't yet written), and wanted to improve my skill on that.  I was loosely looking at a new job.  

As is always true in life, changes were brewing.  My boyfriend proposed. (I said yes!) I got the new job.  And I set my heart on doing a poker run.  As a new fiancee, I wanted to figure out what that meant, how to be a fiancee, to really take some time to focus on my self and my relationship, to understand what marriage meant to me, especially as it was a second marriage.  No wedding plan flurry, I just wanted to slow life down for a bit.  Professionally, there was a bit of a flurry, getting on insurance panels and talking with my beloved employer about a slow transition to my new job. And my daughter is an active participant in robotics and music, which kept many evenings full.  I also reexamined my role as a soon to be step mom to my fiancees daughter.  She and I had developed a close friendship over the past year.  We visit her every other weekend, and spent many weekends outside skiing and exploring the woods on our off road vehicles.  

The second half of the year has created a gentle rhythm, no longer newly engaged, feeling settled in the new job, our daughters senior years and eighth grade years progressing nicely.  Somewhere in there, I set my heart on a street bike.  I bought a REALLY old Ninja 250, but no amount of tinkering without significant investment was going to get it running well enough for me to learn to ride.  (If you've read the other blog entries, you'll understand that I have enough challenges with riding without an engine idling high and sending me right off the road!)  So, I resigned myself to this being a someday dream, selling that old Ninja, and simply pursuing my dirt bike riding.  The very next day, my fiancee bought me a white 2011 Ninja 250 in beautiful condition.  An early birthday and Christmas present!  (for the next three years!)  

Which shifted my goals for the year.  It was October, and a poker run had yet to fit into our every other weekend schedule in two different cities.  Instead, I set my sights on learning to ride my Ninja, and working toward my Motorcycle endorsement.

Which brings me to the beginning of 2014.  What are my goals for this year?  Well, this weekend I'm testing for my motorcycle endorsement.  In May, we are planning a lovely and simple wedding on the Hood Canal.  Following that, we want to have a two week adventure on our motorcycles down the Pacific Coast Highway.  In June, our daughters will graduate from their respective schools.  In August, my daughter will head off to her first year of college.  Following that, we have houses to sell, jobs to find, and a move to make to be closer to my step-daughter.  I'd like to do some group rides on the street, and I'd still like to complete that Poker Run goal from last year.  Resolutions? No.  But this year, life is presenting plenty of goals to accomplish, and I'm tossing in a few fun ones.  

How it all began...

As a kid, I had two views of motorcycles. On the one hand, there was the desire to be free, go fast, and fly through the air.  On the other, there were the many stories of family and friends who had fallen.  It became a 'let's think about that later' desire.  Fast forward to college, relationships, and child rearing, and motorcycles were a daydream, a song lyric, and a 'when the kiddo is 18, I'll look into that' desire. 

And then there was a boy.  A boy who came to visit on a motorcycle.  A boy who took me for a ride on the back of his motorcycle.  An invitation into the club...  Would I walk through the door?

This blog will outline highlights and stories of the journey into riding, along side of being a partner, a mother, a friend, and a therapist.  Stories from each of these identities may appear at any point, because riding a motorcycle isn't something you do, isolated from your life.  It's part of who you become, every minute of every day.  I want to write to express the joys, the challenges, the ups and the downs of this journey.  Perhaps someone will stumble upon this blog when they are considering giving up on their desire to ride and find hope, perhaps someone will get to relive their newbie mistakes, perhaps no one will ever read this, and it will be my little online journal.  Nothing about riding a motorcycle has come naturally to me, but I knew the moment I sat on my first Honda CRF 80 (at the age of 36) that this was something I would want to do forever.