bicycle chronicles

It’s no wonder I love riding a bicycle. As a toddler I spent hours in a plastic carrier mounted over a parent’s back wheel. Do they even make those any more? Most kids now are towed around in the covered two-wheeled trailers. Though much less safe, I have to think it was better to be inches from my father’s back, to see him and hear him as he pedaled me through the evening.

This is a picture of my first real bicycle, a pink banana-seat Schwinn. It seems funny to me now, I don’t remember learning to ride without training wheels. Was it on this bike? Or was this the reward for gaining balance and confidence? No Lippoldt can say for sure. Soon after the picture, tassels and a bell were added. I had to flutter and ring as I rode.

Chad also had a banana-seat Schwinn, navy blue and silver. We spent hours riding those bikes up and down the street. Hours more following our parents around the neighborhood on summer evenings. And we “fixed” them constantly, turning them over in the driveway or back patio to play bike mechanic. We were fascinated with watching the pedals move the chain move the wheels.

In fourth grade I made a monumental decision. I was allowed (perhaps for the first time) to withdraw money from my precious savings account so I could partially fund the purchase of a 10-speed Schwinn. Red this time. Gears and hand brakes were a revolution.

Weeks later we moved to a new house, new block, new kids. I was too shy to start a conversation but kept riding my bike around the cul-de-sac. Freed from pedal brakes I loved to spin my feet around backwards. It was a sight that stunned the other kids on my street and had them asking me questions. Thanks, bike, for making the introductions.

I took the red Schwinn to college instead of a car. It sat chained up outside McElvaney Hall on the sidewalk right in front of the new Mercedes Benz’ some of my classmates drove. I rode it in Highland Park when I needed freedom from campus. I was never brave enough to risk riding in Dallas traffic for errands.

By the end of my junior year I had motorized transport and the Schwinn had returned to the parents' garage. That summer I worked in Denver and upgraded to a Specialized HardRock Mountain Bike, silver, because it was on sale. Gears on the handle bars now, I changed to any of 24 with the turn of a dial. Unfortunately I didn’t know any real mountain bikers in Denver (how is that possible?) so I stuck to bike paths and streets.

After graduation the Specialized went with me to Minnesota, the city of a million bike paths. I can still picture every mile of the rails-to-trails path that followed the Mississippi River just 6 blocks from my house. It was on that trail that we learned I was built for slow-steady endurance and Rush for quick, intense sprints. To the end of the trail and home, a perfect hour ride.

My first year of seminary in Atlanta the Specialized took me to work and school. Waking at 5am the bike made it easy to arrive at Starbucks for my opening shift, especially since the 7 minute ride from Turner Village was 100% downhill. Going home wasn’t quite as much fun.

In year two and three at Candler the insanely steep hill on Dyson Drive convinced me walking to class was a better idea than riding. I found other places to take the bike, like the fabulous rails-to-trails path on the west side of the city. I wish I had explored Georgia biking more.

Becoming a pastor, in Hutchinson, I began to run. The bike was used less but not completely neglected. Ella and I rode frequently as she started training for her first triathlon. A few crazy days we played tennis, rode the entire length of the Jim Martinez trail and then ran a mile just to see what it felt like. It hurt.

I expected to move in the summer of 2006. I asked to. I was told to stay. For my faithfulness to the vows of itineracy (or non-itineracy) I bought myself a present. The Giant OCR-3, beautiful baby blue. Now gears changed with a flick of the thumb. I obsessed over the extravagance. That was easier than dealing with the anxiety of staying in Hutchinson. But who needs a $700 bike? Turns out I did. Hours of exploring Reno county roads that summer made all the difference.

Six months later, moving to Wichita gave me the chance to train with other cyclists for my first century (100 mile) ride. In preparation I have spent more on accessories than on several of those other bikes. I know the blue Giant is a limited machine. I will upgrade again. I will probably downgrade too, to fewer gears, a slower ride. My love affair with cycling isn’t even at the half-way point. I’d like to ride for 50 more years. I still want to be thrilled and soothed by the sound of the wheels and the wind on my face when I turn 80.


If my story thus far is any indication, I'll always need the bike. Just like I need the dog and I need the friends, and I need the scriptures. It's the rhythm of my life, the way I move through this world.

Burrrrr

My mother once worked with a crazy woman, well actually she has worked with more than one. I was thinking about this particular woman today remembering that she had invented her own fall holiday, "Burrrrrr"

She had a "Burrrrr" tree in her house.

She would by "Burrrrr" gifts.

She would walk around when the air turned cold saying, "Burrrrrr" Isn't it wonderful?


Terri, its time to celebrate.


This morning it was 43 degrees as I rode out of my driveway. Burrrrr!

Luckily I had already purchased my own "burrrr" gifts, arm and leg warmers which arrived last week.

This does mean I am outfitted in polyester and spandex from head to toe, not a dream I ever held for myself. But I do stay warm and that is what really matters.

It also means I look like a real cyclist. No bulky sweatshirts for me. Only real cycling clothing. All of you who know me realize I am no slave to style. The big advantage to the "technical fabrics" is sweat transportation. I can actually sweat in the arm and leg warmers and not be soaked, soppy in my clothing. People used to have to wear wool for such an advantage. Thank goodness for modern chemistry.

The style points were helpful, however, on Saturday as we rode into the middle of a parade. Maize was having its "fall days" (yet another made-up holiday) and we were trying to cut through town as the parade was ending. I really wanted to be a part of the parade. I thought we looked rather good, 12 cyclists decked out in cold weather gear, riding in two tight lines. Of course we were without our official TNT jerseys and we had no candy to throw to the crowd.

We weren't officially a part of the parade but we did follow the very end for a few blocks before it turned. I was in the front of our pack waving happily to the dispersing crowds setting the course for navigating around horse droppings, doing important things like that.

Saturday we rode 75 miles. A new personal best for me. 5 hours in the saddle seems arduous to think about but when I am out with the team, I don't notice the time. Like being engrossed in a great book. Only with more sweat. And spandex.

Tucson is so close I can hardly stand it. Gives me chills to think about toeing up to that starting line. Burrrr!

Strong Finish

Last night I received an e-mail with the last segment of our "training-plan" toward Tucson. Only five more weeks of rides to complete before the big century.

I also realized I need to ask someone to fill in for me on Sunday, Nov 18th. They would probably like a few weeks notice, don't you think?

Because the Sundays I skip are few and far between, and only for the very best of reasons, I missed out on the big team ride this week. Sunday was Octoginta in Lawrence, an 80 mile ride with 800 some cyclists. Amy-teacher was smart enough to take a camera to the ride and has posted a little slide-show on you-tube. View it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkgQvvBReQs
See how smiley they all are? It must indeed have been a beautiful day.

Travis was nice enough to hold a "warm-up" ride on Saturday of 30 miles, to which I added another 20 solo to make for a decent long day this week. The only other person to show up on Saturday morning was Ed. I guess everyone else was excited about the chance to sleep in. I enjoyed riding around Wichita as a threesome, a different experience than the 12 to 15 we normally have.

During the ride I asked Travis about the rumor I heard that some TNT chapters only work up to a long ride of 60 miles prior to the century event, "do they make it to the end?" I wondered.
"Yea, they make it," he said,"but then they are dead for the rest of the day."
"You'll go rest for two hours and then want to come to the victory party."

So this month is not just about finishing the ride, I already believe I can do that. We rode 66 miles out to Lake Afton and back about two weeks ago. It was crazy windy and much of the team had bonked by mile 55. I was amazed, I could have gone longer. I am now confident I can make the 109 mile distance.

But this month's rides of 75, 80, 85 and 90 miles are about preparing to finish strong. Finishing and not hating every minute of the last 30 miles. Finishing and being ready to celebrate. Finishing and being thankful for the experience.

But before we get there I still need to ride today. And tomorrow. And...

Blown

It is windy in Kansas.

That's the sum total of my reflections for the week.
At least a week and a half of wind more than 20 mph.

Windy makes me whiny.
But I've been riding. Oh, I have been riding.
Squished around every other part of my life. I have been riding.
Bent down into headwinds, I have been riding.
White knuckled steering through crosswinds, I have been riding.
A few brief and glorious wind-pushed moments, I have been riding.

And on that glorious day when it is cool and calm,
I will sail on legs made strong from pushing against the wind.
Yes I will.

protein power

I've had a few issues regulating my blood sugar this week.
Not in a diabetic kind of way.

Instead between meals it has dipped too low resulting in one beautiful episode of "I'm going to lay on the floor, bring me peanut butter." It happened at a conference meeting with 30 of my colleagues. Already the story has spread among Methodist clergy throughout the state of Kansas. Next to Sunday's crash, it has not been the healthiest of weeks.

Today I went to the doctor. For my co-pay I received the sage advice, "eat more protein."
I was hoping at least to have my stitches removed but it seems I forgot to make a specific "stitch-removal" appointment so the nurse wouldn't even consider it. Obviously the genius of our insurance system at work. Little do they know I have another option. Can we say "living-room clinic?"

I am entering two monster months of cycling, 60 miles tomorrow and we go up from there. Protein for muscle repair and building will be as important as ever.

As an almost vegetarian (technically a pescetarian) I can get a little sloppy on finding quality sources of protein. My doctor's parting sentence to me this morning was, "Tofu, good." He's an articulate one.

This afternoon I went "protein shopping" at Dillons. I read the label of every item I put into my canvas bag searching for the best possible combination of high protein and appetizing. I arrived at home with boca burgers, fish fillets, soy nuts, Kashi Go-Lean Crunch (thanks Bergy) and some fancy protein shakes that are more at home in a GNC store than my cupboard. I feel funny (funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha) about resorting to such processed elite-performance products. But I am willing to try most anything to keep the blood sugar regulated, and myself upright. Well almost anything. I don't want to eat a hamburger.

whap

sunny sunday
a pleasure to ride
cornering with grace the goal
team follows like a wave

innocuous puddle of water
slightly tilted bike
loss of traction
hello pavement

no one ran over me
an moment of biking ballet

pavement, meet hands
and chin
and teeth

bounced onto my back
blood on the jersey
testimony to pain

three stitches required
teammate's house turned clinic
thanks for marrying a doctor

invincibility is a dangerous disease
i am cured

T-E-A-M

Whenever I am not in my big-girl work clothes, I wear a bracelet on my arm for TNT. It is a purple version of the yellow silicone bracelet made popular by Lance Armstrong's "livestrong" campaign. I appreciate the constant reminder of my commitment to TNT, it actually encourages me to have that little purple thing slung around my wrist.

TNT works hard to make sure its participants are motivated and feel ownership in the program. This is good. What makes me hang my head is any talk of heroism or high sense of pride we should feel. It's been said, "We're out here saving lives." Actually we are just biking. The saving lives comes from the work of others enabled by the money I helped raise. Pride doesn't feel quite appropriate.
That's what I appreciate about the bracelet. It captures why I am enjoying my TNT experience with four words that are inscribed in the silicone.

Train
Endure
Achieve
Matter


It makes a nice little mantra for me and helps to capture what I want to accomplish with this experience.


Train
Endure
Achieve
Matter


Saturday was all about the E.


We drove to Topeka for the Bruce Whaley Spirit Ride, an event in honor of a man who died in his mid-thirties of Leukemia. It was important for TNT to be well represented since we share the same cause as the event.


Kansas is toying with fall, today it is near 90 degrees and windy. But Saturday was 45 degrees, cloudy and raining. I can easily say these were the worst conditions in which I have ever biked. The morning started cold (as in teeth-chattering) and wet. Which led to numbness combined with sleepiness from the 4:30am wake up and frustration because we had 4 flat tires in the first 10 miles. It was a true test for our team spirit. I would give us a B- At one point Travis made us recite our team cheers, I believe because he was tired of hearing us complain.


By 1pm we had finished all 50 miles of the ride including "Puke Hill" (a beast to climb up but fun as hell to ride down). We were mostly dry, closer to warm and already carefully crafting the story of the day to wow the friends and teammates who were not there. I was glad to be done and I suppose glad to have endured. I want that "E" to mean something after all.

dressed to impress

Chad got me a new helmet for my birthday.

Well actually he purchased a gift certificate so I could go and purchase the correct size helmet for my, as it turns out, rather large head. I don't know what to think about the fact that my head is too big for the "women's specific design" helmet.

Amy Berg has been telling me for years "face it bud, your head is just too damn big." But I think this must be another instance of product engineers trying to put women into a box, or in this case small-headed helmets.

All the women's specific helmets are also pretty colors...pastel with flowers or butterflies stenciled in.

My helmet is black.

The salesmen did tell me many people purchased the black helmet because they think it makes their heads look smaller.


What do you think?

YOGOWUPI

Last Wednesday Travis promised a "memorable route" in his e-mail. He also included a special task at the bottom of the message to see if we were actually reading all the way through his weekly missive.

When we arrived on Saturday morning he reported that all the "newbies" and a few alumni had completed the task but he was feeling generous and wanted to give the special prize to everyone. I understand team spirit but what is the point of calling it a "special prize" if everyone is getting one?

He then handed out water bottles that have a TNT logo on one side and his hand written encouragement on the other. YOGOWUPI it says. "You only get out what you put in."

Do you think that's true? I wonder if sometimes I put in a lot more than I get out.
I think that's called service.

And other times I get out a whole lot without putting anything in.
That's called grace.

But here I am trying to make coach-lingo fit with Christian theology. I should stop that.

Saturday's 50 mile ride was supposed to be memorable for the scenery, we rode home on legendary "Thunder Road." Which I, of course, insisted on repeating with all the deep, gravelly, resonance I could muster. We're on Thunnnnnnder Road.

It was pretty but more than that it was hilly. Travis turned us loose from the formed paceline to attack the long series of hills (which he euphemistically called "bumps") at our own pace. As we charged up the first few I made it to the front of the pack until pretty soon it was only me and the other Amy leading each attack.

Someone clever in the group has dubbed us "Amy-teacher" (she spends her day in 7th grade biology) and "Amy-preacher."

Amy-teacher kicked my butt up each and every hill. Then she slowed down on the descent so I could catch up, enabling her to kick my butt up the next hill. Honestly, it was a great way to spend the morning.

It also showed me that biking can hurt. A lot. Legs burning, burning, burning, in a way I have rarely accomplished in running. Of course when you run up a hill you still have to run down which can be just as painful on knees and quads. But bike up? You are rewarded with a pedal-free descent.

I remember once reading about pro-cycling and seeing a quote saying what makes a truly great cyclist is his or her ability to suffer. I would like to think that rides like Saturday make me better at suffering on the bike and therefore a better cyclist. Of course our suffering, up even the biggest hill, is so short lived. It's nothing compared to laying in bed with cancer unsure if or when the pain will stop. This is TNT, we are doing this for cancer-patients, after all.

I suppose that's my problem. "You only get out what you put in" makes it seem like life is some how fair. And you and I know it's not. I could make some comment here about taking each hill as it comes, but that seems glib. Travis, I don't know if you read this but I mean no disrespect. I'm just thinking these things through. I'll still use the water bottle.

Peanuts

Amy Rush and I went to the Braves game today. They won. This has absolutely nothing to do with riding my bicycle but it was such a picture perfect Atlanta afternoon, I wanted to share it with you.