fat biking

fat bike

When I describe to people why I love my fat bike, I say things like “It makes me feel like a tank, buzzing slowly, but impressively, along.”

Other images that come to mind are a train heading down the tracks as my wheels make a rhythmic buzz against the pavement (or is it my heavy breathing that brings this picture to mind?).

Or my bike could be a James Bond contraption that once it leaves the pavement and hits snow, magically transforms into a sled and starts schussing along.

biking through snow

What I don’t say to people (except right now) is how the size of my fat tires and where they allow me to go makes me feel powerful — maybe even invincible. I don’t say this, because I know it sounds silly, given my age, the weakness of my legs, and my fear of falling or running into a tree.

But maybe these thoughts and feelings, because they are silly and free and help me forget myself for awhile are why the bike makes me feel like a kid again.

It’s like throwing a towel over my head and pinning it under my chin and becoming a nun. Better yet, “The Flying Nun”…

Or draping the same towel over my shoulder and becoming Wonder Woman.

Such were my totems of magic as a child. Now I have my fat bike, to throw my leg over and climb into the saddle yelling “Charge!”

fat biking

OK. So now my trusty mount sometimes has a basket on the back to haul my groceries but the basket could just as well hold goodies that I am taking to Grandma’s house where I befriend a wolf and we snack on crackers and cheese in the deep dark woods.

fat bike

Who said that we had to give up make believe and magic to become more practical adults?

No matter. Whoever said it was wrong!

fat biking

Sing it Queen!


dog running

dog running

A body in motion
will remain in motion
until it is no longer in motion
at which point
it will stop


A dream
will remain a dream
until enough actions
to make it solid

dog running

At which point
a new dream
is pulled out of the clouds
down to earth
where it once again puts

dog running

A body in motion
that will remain in motion
until it is no longer in motion
at which point
it will stop


Java, Latte, Steve and I wish you a Happy ‘Come On In 2015!’ New Year celebration and small daily “yahoos” ever after.

tree in corn field

tree in corn field

I am sitting in my office at my desk, which used to be the kitchen table at my parents house – one of those old white enamel things with the red trim around the edges.

My mini-fountain is gurgling away from where it sits on an old stool. I find peace in this sound of water. It makes me feel closer to the outdoors, to nature, to something wild, which makes sitting at a computer bearable.

I am surrounded by books and clutter and computer screens. Many of the books are useful but not pretty. I pull the thesaurus off the shelf when I can’t find the right word. Books of poetry or inspiration, like “Women Who Run with the Wolves,” “Looking for Home,” and “Journal of a Solitude” are flipped through when I can’t find a place to start and need a prompt or a push into beginning. Sometimes copying down a paragraph of someone else’s words loosens up my own.

Some of the books I no longer need or like. They should go.

cornfield in winter

Papers are scattered across my desk and on the small rolling table that sits to my right. They contain information I refer to as I write my book – old letters, photos, journals, and bits of story I’ve written in the past. Are they bogging me down in details? Maybe. But I decide I need to stay there for awhile longer to go back in time and remember.

There is so much I’ve forgotten and not because it was something to forget but because I wasn’t paying close enough attention to know the significance at the time. How often am I doing that again? Am I doing it right now?

I’d love to go through my house, room by room, organizing and culling things to create space for my thoughts, to clear out anything that I felt I had to hold on to, being the one remaining keeper of memories, but now feel like they are holding me to a person and place I don’t want to be anymore. It feels like they keep me from becoming…

But I can’t take the time right now as it would turn into an excuse not to write or to get outside and walk or bicycle. It’s tempting to come up with excuses not to go outside when it looks so dark and cold and unwelcoming from inside the protection and light of my home. The older and more brittle and stiff I get, the harder it is to make myself move. It’s a good thing that I’m stern with myself, knowing what makes for good medicine.

On Saturday, I woke up with a headache that felt like it was going to ruin my whole day but one bike ride outside later, even though I fell on the ice, I returned home and realized that my headache was gone. Miracles are found outdoors.

bicycling on snowy path

Worse than any fall I can have outside, inside I fall into a trap of eternally preparing to do something I want to do.

After I finish cleaning the house…

After my closets are empty of crap…

After my kitchen is organized and the pie tins I never use are gone…

After all my old photos have been scanned and organized onto my computer…

After I have caught up on my filing…

After I lose ten pounds…

After these things are completed, then I can build a real life.

Until I realize, every decision, choice and action becomes my real life and I don’t want to be the person who is remembered as that skinny gal with the clean, organized house. But I also don’t want to be remembered as the woman who left behind a mess for someone else to clean up. There has to be a happy medium.

So that’s what I search for. The stuff that’s most important to me – the writing, photography, giving my animals and relationships attention and care, my music, getting outdoors, and being active – come first. And if there’s time (there often isn’t), I’ll take care of the cleaning and culling.

I hear that there is always enough time.

And I choose to trust that this is true.

downed tree in snow

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