Bookends

 A flock of sparrows

Fly on electrified wings

From bush to branches.

Thursday, December 24, 2020

 The last race I competed in; I didn’t. I DNFed at the Sycamore 100k in February. I was (and for quite a while afterward) battled an upper left quad strain. At mile 40 I called it a day. What added to the pain was one of my age group nemesis was there; Eric Clifton, and he completed the race.

 Without any races since then how was I going to test myself to see if I’ll be ready for a decent 50k in 2021? That’s what old friends are for. And at my age, even my younger friends are fairly old.

 Liz, a trail running acquaintance, from when we use to run together with the S.M. Trail runner’s club, was coming down from the Bay Area and wanted to know if I’d run part of the 70 mile Backbone with her. Why not? What a great opportunity to catch up and also test out some equipment but more importantly my body.

 She completed the Backbone last weekend in three days. Her first day from Will Rodgers to Tapia park, 25 miles, I ran with her. It was a blast, I felt great, all our choices worked, the weather was perfect and we went through the section like we were going for a short jog together.

 
Now for the 2021 racing season. Bring it on!

Chipotle Award

Ripples in the sky;

Ashen white waves breaking west

Over the ocean.

Saturday, December 12, 2020

 Every Sunday after Kimme picks me up from work we try (too long to get into now, but there were three weeks where we didn’t make it for various reasons) to go to Chipotle.

 Because of this habit at least one server there recognizes us and this last Sunday actually talked to us about more than what we’d like in either are salad or burrito.

 He asked if I’m a vegan. I told him no, but that I’d been a vegetarian for 40 years.

 I asked him why he asked and he said that I stood out as an older gentleman who looked to be in very good health relative to most Chipotle customers and he was curious if my diet was responsible.

 That was very nice of him.

 However, as much as my pride shines with such compliments I’ve got to take this recognition with a side of salsa as I believe the results of his sampling are skewered given that they come from only fast food patrons.

 Still it was a moment. And as I get older I suspect these moments will become fewer and further between.

Improvements?

 
Light green chested bird 

Flirts with the winter trees 

Singing a bright song. 

Thursday, December 10, 2020 

Yerba Buena is one of those challenging canyon rides off of PCH that if you’re a Southern California cyclist has got to be included in your rotation. Up until this year it was a road that I enjoyed riding up but wouldn’t think about riding down, and now that It’s been improved, I’m even more certain it would be a mistake to head down toward the beach on that beautiful canyon road.  

 

Why? 

 

Because the now smooth asphalt has drawn an array of cyclists, motorcyclists and car club enthusiasts to take to its curves in both directions and that’s a recipe for disaster.  

 

Heck, a few weeks ago I even saw a luge skateboarder heading down Yerba at breakneck speeds (pun intended).  

 

On the old broken asphalt Yerba was a tolerable ride heading uphill for cyclists but that was about it. Cars and motorcyclist for the most part shied away and it was far too problematic for all but the most shock absorbing souls to head downhill on a bicycle. But all that’s changed with the recent repaving. Now Yerba is fair game for all types of speedsters and that’s why I’m even more certain I’ll never experience what it’s like to head toward the ocean on it.  

The High Horse Lady

 The high horse lady

Commands our dog off the trail

Which is pure horse crap.

 Thursday, December 3, 2020

 We have been fortunate enough to live in Topanga for almost two years. It’s one of the very few communities in L.A. that has its own distinct personality; a small cranny of old hippies and leave me alone libertarians.

 For all the time we’ve been here we’ve been walking our dog on the Dead Horse Trail to Topanga State Park almost twice daily. A very few times we’ve run into some people that have pointed out that doing so violates State Park rules, but few have been nasty about it and even better, never consistent about it.

 Out of consideration for one neighbor we did start leashing our dog and he has been friendly ever since. Like almost all locals, he recognizes that locals are going to walk their dogs on the trails near the park.

 That is up until about three weeks ago when we met a horse riding lady that became very indignant with us. We’ve seen horse riders before without any problems, but she claims to be a regular and will not tolerate dogs on the trail.

 Since we hadn’t seen her before we treated it as an aberration. However when Kimme ran into her again and demanded to take her picture to report her to some app called Next Door, the vibe of confrontation was significantly dulling the buzz we get walking in nature.

 So to remedy that we’re walking in the opposite direction for a while. We’ll see what happens. Hopefully we won’t run into any other high horse people on the other side of Topanga Blvd.

Better Sorry

 A mountain lion

Is wandering near our trail

Which is breathtaking.

 Tuesday, November 24, 2020

 There are moments where split decisions are made without the time to gather all the necessary information on whether to error on the side of caution or lean into speed and my small mind decides and never adequately explains to me why.

 For example, last Saturday on my ride to work as usual I started down the pretty gentle but fun canyon, Topanga, toward PCH. Unusually, a group of about six cyclists pace lining came flying past me. A decision as to whether to try and jump on or just continue and cruise through my warm up needed to be made because as all cyclists quickly discover; he whom hesitates isn’t going to catch on.

 I made the jump and had a fun little boost drafting down Topanga. Was it smart? I doubt it. Was it fun? Yes. Should I or shouldn’t I have? Damned, in those situations I just don’t know why I choose one way or the other.

Rings

On the golden hills

Six deer graze in the sunshine

On a crisp morning.

Thursday, November 19, 2020

 For some reason my wife has decided that we should start working out on rings. Up until now our only experience with rings has been our infrequent us of the rings that came with our dip bar that we purchased shortly after the shutdown in March.

Even with that apparatus the focus for me was the dips. The rings came with the bars and weren’t a big selling point. But since they’re there, hey why not make use of them? The bars/rings had the usual number of illustrated exercises but the only ones I’ve ended up doing are dips and reverse pull ups with the bars and flies with rings. I’ve enjoyed those exercises and over time I do believe they’ve helped make me stronger.

 But that’s a big jump from one exercise and rings basically used like a TRX set up to Olympic style rings that are high enough off the ground to where you’ve got to muscle your complete body weight.

 I do believe it’s good to shake things up once in a while and challenge your mind and body in different ways. Of course mastery of any exercise also comes with persistence which, due to time and interests constraints, means it’s only feasible to rotate through so many types of exercises and exercise equipment.

 I’ll give the rings a whirl because she wants to and it does seem it could hold my interest long enough to be worthwhile. I’m still going to keep dumb bells, kettlebells and other body weight exercises in the rotation. But I can’t see adding or trying anything new .except for possibly giving swimming a whirl sometime down the road.

 

Conservation

 The confessional

Is so vast that our small sins

Require no penance.

 Friday, November 13, 2020

 On Veteran’s Day my mother turned 87. Because it was a reasonably warm day it was reasonably comfortable in her house. If it were cold, it would’ve been cold. Not because my mom doesn’t have or can’t afford heat, but because that’s the way she was raised and that’s the way she still is.

 As her son I have many of the same characteristics so I can both understand and be amused by her twitches of character.

 She sets her thermostat at 62 so at night if it gets below that her heat kicks in. 62 seems a tad low to me but for a woman who was raised in a farmhouse in Minnesota without indoor plumbing or electricity during much of her childhood, 62’s gotta feel pretty comfortable, even though she’s now lived most of her life in Southern California.

 
I wish she’d splurge the last few years of her life and indulge in an occasional 70 degree winter night, but then she wouldn’t be my mother.