Happy New Year

I had an odd craving to watch the movie/musical "Rent" today, mostly because I loved the lyrics of the song, "Seasons of Love."

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

I have always felt that September was the start of a new year for me.  I don't know if it was because both of my parents are teachers and September is when we would all go back to school/work when I was growing up, but none the less September 1 has also seemed to be my start of something new - a new year.  Fall represents change and a sense of newness to me.    

This year seems to be shaping up to create the same feeling.  Lately I haven't been on my bike as much as I would like.  One of my coworkers/great friend, Jen, made the decision to take a new position in the American Cancer Society's Souix Falls, South Dakota, office.  Because of this it meant one major thing - to try and fit as many Dubuque tourist stops in as possible before she drove her UHaul into the sunset.  From rolling down the Alpine Slide to leaving our mark in New Diggings, to strolls down the streets of "remember that time when..." - whenever a friend prepares to leave your everyday life, you try to fit as many memories in as possible.

Jen and I on the chair lift after going down the Alpine Slide

Because of the hustle to check items of the Dubuque Bucket List, my bikes have seen less and less of time on the road lately.  But taking the time to make memories with a friend was completely worth it.  Sometimes it takes a friend leaving to remind you of  those things that you would do different from the last year.  The normal - eat better, workout more, read more - to the not as normal - work to forgive, be in the now, slow down, and love better.  All of which I know I can do on and off my bike.

Striving to provide my body better nutrition only improves my riding along with getting on the bike more.  Now reading and riding may not be the best idea, but reading stories of epic journeys on those raining days is a good one.  These goals always seem to be the ones that are the most in your control, but always tend to be the hardest to do.  The idea of creating new habits and making changes in your daily life sometimes seem like a long uphill climb, but the view at the top always makes it worth it - you just need to put in the work.

As for the work to forgive, this  is something that always pops into my mind when I rolling across the cornfields - you think about those people who have come into your life and impacted it in a way that may have hurt you and you simply haven't forgiven them yet.  Much like that squirrel who thought it would be fun to run in front of your bike, they may not have known that their actions had the effect that they would on you.  From simple arguments to life altering actions - forgiveness never comes easy, but grunges make your soul dark.  I haven't always done the best job of forgiving or admitting my own faults that may lead to earning forgiveness from others, but I have started to try more.  To connecting with old friends and learning to cope with those who have hurt myself or those around me - forgiveness never comes quickly or easily, but is always needed to move forward.

Many times I find myself deep in a trance on my rides, thinking about where I need to turn next, how to best power up this next climb and whether or not that car is going to get out of my lane, I find myself forgetting to slow down and to be in the now.  So many times we forget to take those deep breathes and look around us and to enjoy all that we have been given.  The friendships and memories we have made, the changes we have taken, the disappointments we have experienced - all are a part of our lives and shape us, and we need to slow down and learn from each and every one of them.

Learning to love is a new one for me, but one that has peaked into my mind lately.  Many times we generalize love with "falling in love" with a significant other.  But have you ever noticed how many people you tell during the week that you love them?  From family members and friends, who do we love and how do we love them?  And most importantly - how do you show love?  Is it being supportive to a friend moving away from you when you are tearing up inside?  Or taking a moment out of your day to write a note of love to a favorite family member.  Or simply by saying those four letters to those in your life - the smallest gestures mean the most.  Because many times, it is only once we have lost that we learn how to love.  Love, much like forgiveness, doesn't always come easy but when it does get there, holding onto it can be just as hard.  It all comes down to learning how to love better.

So now you know my New Year's resolutions for this coming year - feel free to hold me to them!  As the heat seems to going back down and the smell of fall creeps into the night, I can only hope that my coming year is as full of many, many amazing memories from behind my handlebars and everywhere else as this past year was - every 525,600 minuets of it. 

Make it small, but significant

After my big bonk last week, I spent the following days with a badly bruised leg, a ton of small scratches on my back and a feeling of defeat.  One of my coworkers comically asked me after seeing all of my new "owies" if I still liked riding and mentioned maybe I should take a few days off from being in the saddle to let my body heal.  At first I shrugged off her suggestion, and then decided it might be a good idea.  A few days off might do me some real good.

So as my cycling friends were getting ready for a weekend training ride, I let them know that I wouldn't be joining them on this one.  They said they understood and that I would be missed.  When Saturday morning rolled around I was wide awake when they would have been leaving, and I was laying in bed thinking about their ride.  It was going to be a little over 60 miles with a wicked head wind for the at least half of the route and they would be baking in some pretty good heat.

I knew what it was like to be on those rides and I know how sometimes a small gesture turns into a big one when you have been our there for hours.  From someone sharing some extra water or energy gel, or another rider helping you set a pace up the hill that seems so long - it is the small things that mean the most on and off the bike.

So I called up my friend Jen and asked if she wanted to take a short road trip with me.  I had some peanut butter cake-brownies that I had baked a few days before that needed to eaten and two cowbells that needed to be rang, and I knew just the folks who would benefit from both that day.  Jen and I took off and I tried to time it to about when the group would be going through Balltown.  I knew we were also taking the chance that they may have switched routes or taken different roads than orginally planned, but we continued down the road anyway.

We got up to Balltown and hadn't seen the group yet, and as we pulled over to park and wait at the overlook, Jen and I got to enjoy the view surrounding us.  We watched as motocycles and other cyclists road by, we learned the cows below did not care for my cowbell ringing skills, and we played photographer for a group visiting the area from Des Moines.  We sat in the warm sun and waited.  After awhile without spotting the group, we decided to head back to Dubuque and to instead leave the treats and noise makers in one of their cars.

Even the cowbells enjoyed the view while waiting in Balltown

We found our friend Eric's truck at the trailhead, and I quickly wrote up a note of support and congrats and left everything in the bed of his pickup.  Then Jen and I went on with our day by doing some shopping and grabbing lunch.  It was while we were at Red Robin that we got the text that treats had been found and enjoyed!  Later that night, Eric told us how he found the goodies as everyone was packing up and he said they really loved having something to snack on before heading back to their homes.  Again, it was something small, but significant.

I think there are times in life when all we need is something small to make a big impact on us and our day/week/life.  A small compliment, card of thanks, or a genuine gesture of care, can truly make a change that we needed right at that moment.  It doesn't matter if it comes in the form of sweet treats, a facebook message or a hug - all that matters is the idea that someone was thinking of you and wanted to make sure you knew it.  To help be a rainbow in someone's cloud.  To be a friend.

Eric then continued to talk about the ride that day and we discovered that Jen and I had left about 5-10 minuets before they came into Balltown.  But Eric expressed how cool our idea had been, and how the gesture had not lost it's impact regardless if we had waited or not.

There would always be some direct hits and some near misses, but the idea that the effort was made is what will always stick with someone.  That you cared enough to even to try.  That you went out of your way to try and make someone else smile that day.  That is what matters the most.          

Bonk.

Imagine yourself biking along, not a care in the world and as you turn your head to look at the pretty bird, you face forward again and BONK.  You walk into a concrete wall that stretches as high as the sky and looks to be as think as it is long.  And there you sit, on your little bike at the very bottom of something that just seems too big that day.  You take a deep break and long gulp and stare at the wall.  There is no way around it or under it - you simply have to go up it.  That is what it feels like to bonk on your bike.

Ask any cyclist or runner and they will remember each time they have bonked and experienced the feeling of "how I am going to finish this."  It is human nature to remember the bad rides and not always remember the successful ones.  The ones where we felt as if we were riding in peanut butter stings our brains for years to come.  But the ones where we hit a new top speed or climb a great climb, tend to slip from our mind more quickly.  Much like how in everyday life we tend to remember the negative and lose track of the positive.

Well, last night I went on a ride with Eric out in the Mines of Spain and down to Massey.  I had been having a really bad couple of days, and needed a ride to take my anger out on and this one I thought would do the trick.  Eric gave me the usual overview: how many climbs and miles, where to turn and what to watch out for and mentioned that there was one "wall."

We got on our way and I felt pretty strong.  We climbed up to the Julien Dubuque monument and I felt good, and I could feel my bad mood starting to slip away.  Then as we made our way out of the Mines of Spain, Eric double checked that I wanted to continue to Massey.  I said I would be good so we made the turn and headed that way.  And I did do good, until I found the wall he was talking about.  It was a long hill with a steep grade to the top.  I knew I have climbed hills like this before, but today it was just not going to happen, and I knew it the moment I started to turn my heels.

I tried to settle in, get a good pace and keep my heart rate down, but my mind was not having it and gave up.  I pulled over to the side to catch my breathe as Eric moved farther and farther up the hill.  I got back on my bike and tried to start again but got a short gain of a handful of feet.  I pulled once more to the side.  My mind was not ready to get up this hill.  It was just too big for me that day.  So once more I got back on my bike only to lose my balance and fall over and roll down into the ditch.  As I laid there next to the discarded Twix wrapper, I knew I had done it.  I had bonked.

I finally got my butt and bruised ego back up and looked myself over.  I slightly torn up shin, but nothing too major besides some scratches on my back.  I didn't know if I wanted to kick something or just give in and sit on the side of the road and cry.  So I did the only thing that I knew would get me up that hill - I swallowed my pride, pulled my bike up and I walked up the rest of the hill.

By the time I got to the top, Eric was waiting for me in a driveway with a look of concern.  He asked if I was ok, and I shook my head yes.  He looked at my leg and my bike, and asked what happened.  I told him of my tumble from grace and he told me he was slightly disappointed he wasn't there to see me do it - I started to laugh.  We both noticed that my chain had fallen off and as I started to fix it, it finally hit me.  That even though the hill had won this round, at least I could laugh about it.

We finished out the ride and even though I didn't find myself walking anymore of the hills, it was probably the worse riding I had done.  But by the end I started to feel better and smile more.  As we put all of our stuff back in Eric's truck, I noticed the moon rising by one of the bluffs.  And the idea that as another day ends, so begins a new one.  The idea that in biking you are going to have some bad rides, rides that will challenge you and push you to your limit and push you to bonk.  But it is how you handle those rides and what you learned from them to make you better for the next time you find yourself out there just wanting to quit.  They teach you to dust yourself off, find your breath and, no matter what, to make it to the top.

As we drove down the road, I knew I had lost my balance that day.  My balance on my bike, at work and in my personal life, and I knew I needed to find it again.  Even if it meant I would have to walk back to the top.

"Life is like riding a bicycle, in order to keep your balance you have to keep moving."       

   A blue moon rising over a bluff by the Mines of Spain

Riding Unplugged

Almost everyone who rides a bike has some sort of technology with them.  From cell phones, to Garmins, to cadence counters and heart monitors - cyclists love to be hooked up.  It helps them track their riding and find ways to improve to get faster and stronger in a sport where many times you are truly competing against yourself. 

I like to think of me as being in the middle of this cycling technology field.  Tessa (the road bike) is equipped with a odometer to track miles and speed, and I also try to low-jack myself with MapMyRide app to see how far I went, how big the climbs were, my split times, and top speed, among other tools.  Just recently, I finally caved and set up my route timer to pause whenever I would stop moving, so I could get an accurate time without trying to remember how long I sat at the one spotlight that ruined my awesome average speed for that given ride.

In this data driven sport, I have tried to resist from going with too much technology.  I don't have a heart monitor and my odometer is currently duct taped to my bike as the normal piece holding it on was lost in mid battle with a climb.  But I find the data I do track does help me much in my everyday riding.

But this morning as I was getting ready to go out on the bike, I was having a hard time deciding on where I wanted to go and what type of ride to do.  I thought about driving up to the Arterial Trailhead or heading to my office and biking Grandview and the Mines of Spain, but I just wasn't feeling either of them for some reason.  Then I remembered the ride I did last weekend with Eric and Chris on the bike trail downtown and by the river.  The same trail that ran right by my house.

So that I had a ride in mind, I finished getting everything I needed together.  In my rush to get my helmet, sunglasses, and shoes on I forgot to do one important part of my pre-ride - I didn't turn on my MapMyRide tracking.

As I made my way out of my neighborhood, I finally realized this missed step and contemplated about starting it now but then also realized that I didn't put my ear buds in either.  So there I was, nothing to track how good or bad I was doing that morning and nothing in my ear telling how far I had gone and to play inspiring music as I put on the miles.  I was just there on my bike with nothing more than my legs and my ears.  I was unplugged.

Have you ever been to one of those restrooms that has a sign that read, "Sometimes I sits and I thinks, and sometimes I just sits."  Today's ride would be one where I would just sit on my bike.  Normally, my mind would race in 5 million directions as I would become lost in the rhythm of the ride - "Oh I need to pedal fast to beat that car - crap, I forgot email Sarah today - shoot that was a big rock - I think this is where I turn - I wonder what color North Face fleece I should order - squirrel!"  But today my mind was silent and I slowed down to see and hear all that I could.

For the first time, I truly started to notice all that was around me.  From the hissing geese that were upset I was on their trail, to watching and hearing fish jump from the river, and to feeling the warm breeze that was filled with sunlight - I just continued to sit on my bike and pedal.  I started to noticed little details in things that I had been by so many times before.  The benches on the McGraw Hill campus that looked like small wire couches and the view of Dubuque from the river vs. the view of the river from Dubuque - it all looked so different now.  Clearer some how.

Tessa enjoying the veiw AY McDonald Park

So many times in our lives we just get too busy.  Rushing from appointment to appointment and scheduling every hour of our day to try and fit it all in, when in reality we are missing everything.  We are missing the sound of our friend's voice at lunch because we are too busy texting someone else what about you are doing that night.  We are too busy checking our Facebook for updated pictures and statuses of others' fun memories to go out and make our own.  We forget sometimes, that the best thing in life is to sit, listen and see all that is around you.  To simply take it all in and breathe it all out.  To be unplugged. 

The ride today gave me exactly what I needed in my ever-changing, technology driven, go-go-go life.  It got me to slow down.  It got me to see and hear the world around me.  It got me find my calm again.  It got me to remember how very blessed I am to be in this moment.  It got me to be me again.

And as I finished my ride and walked back through my front door, I didn't automatically turn on the radio or the TV or to try and plan my day.  I simply sat on my chair by the open window and listened while I caught my breath and filled up my body with water.  I looked around my home, took it all in and remembered that this is such a beautiful and amazing life that we all live, and I can't forget to slow down every now and then.       

Same Hill, Different Day

My home here in Dubuque is in a great location as it is only a few miles or so from downtown, Hyvee, and the Mississippi River, but there is one small thing that gets me every time I roll my cruiser our for a spin.  It is this small hill I have to climb right before I get back to my front door.  It isn't much of a hill, just small enough and steep enough to make you feel it.  But the funny thing about that hill is that even though it never changes, my ride up it always does.

There are times up that hill where it seems to not even be a hill.  I can cruise right up it without missing a breath.  My legs would still feel strong afterwards and I would have a smile on my face.  Then there are the days where that little bump in the road feels like I am trying to bike up Mt. Everest.  It feels long and sucks all of the air our of my lungs and my legs start to feel like Jello.  By the time I get to the top, every person who passes me in the car has the same look of "Yikes, that girl looks like death warmed over."

I have started to realize with this hill, that because it always stays the same, it truly comes down to me and how I get up it.  Some days I have extra weight on my bike in the form of groceries or a laptop and work supplies, where other days I am only hauling myself and a cell phone up it.  Sometimes I might be in a bad mood from riding in a cloud of river flies or have a giant smile on my face because I got 20 cents added onto my HyVee Fuel Saver card.  There are days where I am full of energy and days where I am just surpised I made it out of bed.  But regardless of the day, I still have to get up that hill and I know that only I can be the one to get me up it.  It truly comes down to my attitude.  Do I look at that hill and think it is the one thing keeping me from my couch?  Or do I look at it as one more challenge left before I can get home and start my day?

Regardless, the hill stays the same.  It is the same distance and the same steepness.  Nothing about that hill changes except me and my time on it.  Do you think the hill sees me coming some days and thinks, "Well, crap.  It is her again."  Or does it think, "oh yeah - another person to enjoy my awesome hilly-ness!"  Or does it just feel blessed to be what it is and where it is in that moment, sitting in the sun and enjoying the day and welcoming its visitors?

Maybe I need to be more like the hill, to be someone who gives joy when you are riding down it and someone who helps with challenges when you are going up it.  But to always be consistent no matter the changes that are going on and to just roll with the road.

Either way, I know one thing is for sure, sometimes you just need to sit back, find your calm, and make it up that hill.  Because without some hills, it would be one long, flat ride - and who really wants that?

I had a small passenger on my ride up the hill today...

  

Life is about using the whole box of crayons

When I was apartment shopping this past fall for my move to Dubuque, those helping me figured it would be pretty easy - I am single, no kids, and no pets.  But there was one exception - I have three bikes they need a home as much as I did.  And when I mentioned this I was always greeted with the same question "Why do you need all three?"

When I started biking I quickly learned that each bike had a different style of riding and by getting a different one for each style, you would enjoy the ride more.  Tessie is the eldest of the group and my mountain bike that I bought when I lived in Anchorage.  She enjoys to kick some dirt up the skirt on single track trails and splashing through the mud on rainy days.  Tessa is my lean and mean road bike who loves the feeling of wind in her gears and tends to be a little more cleaner than the other girls.  And then their is Ally the Townie who loves to spend her time cursing the streets of any town while running errands or picking up groceries in her lauded back style.  Both Ally and Tessa were born at Wayne's Ski and Cycle in Mason City, IA.  Each of them can go days, weeks or months without being used because one of their "sisters" is the favorite at that time.  But they never hold it against each other and are always ready to roll. 

But sometimes they all get to go out and play, like this weekend.  I was able to go for a ride on all three of my bikes in the span of 24 hours.  It started with an off-road ride with the Happy Hip Chicks on Saturday on the Heritage Trail.  Then a quick morning ride on Sunday to HyVee to pick up the paper and groceries for the week and was followed by a ride with The Flat Iowa Society through the streets of Dubuque.

Although each of these rides where different, so much of them were the same.  You still needed to peddle  hard, drinks lots of water, and watch the road.

On my Saturday ride, it was with Gayle and Sherry and was filled with sunshine, cool temperatures and lots of girl talk.  It also involved getting some dirt up the skirt, some dust on the sunglasses and a poor little chipmunk who should have gone left instead of right.

 

Sherry and I on our Heritage Trail Ride with Gayle taking the picture!

My solo ride to the grocery store is one that I try to take at least weekly.  I love being so close to HyVee and being able to bike there, although I am not a fan of their sad looking bike rack.  There is always junk in front of it and you can only use it to lock up your front tire vs locking your tire and frame since quick-releases make stealing a frame a lot easier.  But regardless, I love being able to take a quick spin down the road and come back with the paper among other items for the week.  It also helps me to only buy what I really need and what tends to be a little lighter as I have to haul all of it home in my pannier.  But more importantly, it gives me time to think and to just be on the road dressed only in comfy pants, flip flops and a tshirt while I gave my bike shorts and jerseys some time off.  This is the ride that reminds me the most of being a kid who felt she could go ANYWHERE as long as she had her bike.

 See that small metal stand between the red chair and the hose?  That's HyVee's bike rack....

Finally, I was able to go on a longer ride this Sunday with Eric and Chris, my fellow co-founders of the Flat Iowa Society Bike Club.  We were able to bike along on various roads and trails here in Dubuque.  We went out to the pond at Heritage Trail, rolled by John Deere, and climbed up to Eagle Point Park before coming back to sea level by the lock and dam.  We then went down by the river and out to the casinos and back downtown.  We took a pit stop at Paul's Taveran for a beer and a burger before heading back up Arterial Trail (the burger was NOT helpful on this climb) before turning back to Eric's house where we had started.  I had a great time seeing Dubuque in ways I hadn't yet and having my first Paul's burger and a "scoop" of beer.

 Eric, myself, and Chris on a great Flat Iowa Society ride around Dubuque

Each of my rides this weekend involved a different bike, different types of company, and different roads - but had one major thing in common, they all had a great view from my handlebars.     

I get by with a little help from my friends...

Just like in life, good friends made the road much easier.  This is just as true with biking.

When this past spring rolled around and I was getting out more and more on my bike, I knew it was time to try and find others to ride with.  When I lived in Mason City, I had never really been a part of group rides.  Much of this was due to my fear of slowing other riders down and my work schedule - in the summer it was easier for me to do longer rides in the morning or early afternoon, then at night due to meetings.  So I had a few friends that I would ride with from time to time, but mostly rode on my own.

So once I was in Dubuque, I knew I needed to get in with a bike club.  If not to meet other riders, but also to figure out where to go riding and how to conquer these things that we didn't have much of in North Iowa - hills.  So I went to my LBS (Little Bike Shop) downtown - Bicycle World - and learned about the Dubuque Bike Club and was able to make one of their Tuesday night group rides.  I knew going into it that it would be hard - and it was!!  But the best part of the ride was the support that you received from other riders letting you know that you were doing a good job and it would only get easier, without these helpful words I think I would have been done after that ride.  But knowing that someone is there, wanting to see you be successful makes you crank a little harder.

Unforchantly, my work schedule got in the way of me continuing to ride on Tuesdays with the Dubuque Club, but I was able to find another group of casual women riders.  My landlord, Dave, had "friend suggested" me on Facebook to Marge who in turn invited me for a ride on the Heritage Trail for ladies only.  This trail is crushed limestone and is a Rail-to-Trail, which basically means it was a old railroad route that had been turned into a recreational trail (love these!).  I came out for the ride with my mountain bike and met a handful of other ladies and together went on a great ride that ended at the Handle Bar in Durango that had great Bloody Marys and pizza and ended up being full of lady laughter.  Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind biking with guys, but sometimes it just a little nicer when it is only the girls.  We tend to be more ok with the occasional bathroom break and can talk more openly about the fact that bike shorts might be the only black clothing item that is really not that slimming.  From this ride, I also met my friend Gayle, who I have been able to get to know even better every time we get together.  And now this group of ladies (The Happy Hip Chicks) try and get together each month to go for a ride and to share a laugh.

The first ride with the Happy Hip Chicks

Shortly after riding with The Happy Hip Chicks, I decided to join a beginners ride on Monday nights offered by another LBS in town - Free Flight.  Now don't let the beginner status fool you, these folks could ride.  It was mostly a lot of younger riders (late 20s-40s) who had either just bought their first road bike or have been riding for a few seasons and needed to get back into cycling shape (this was my category).  Ironically, I actually knew a few people on the ride when I got there. Kim, who I had met through her sister who volunteers for the Relay For Life of Jones County, and Eric, who I had met through my friend Beth and was in the Jaycees.  Because of each of them had brought a friend with, our circle began to grow before we even got on our bikes.  This ride, again, was hard but yet fun at the same time because you had someone to talk to and help push you up those darn Dubuque hills.

Eric then invited myself and his friend Chris to come and ride with his dad's group that rides on Thursday nights - the Spokey Folks (if you can't tell I LOVE fun bike club names).  This group of veteran riders were so much fun to be around.  The kept a social pace and knew so much about where we were riding and the land around it.  But one of the best parts was after the ride had ended, because this group believed in one of my favorite activities of all time - hosting a potluck.  Everyone brought a dish/snack/dessert to share and stories continued to be swapped over beers and pickle dip.  It now has become my driving force during those final miles of our Thursday ride - just knowing that a cold beer and a sweet snack was waiting for you makes it all worth it.

Now that I was bouncing between Monday and Thursday night rides, Chris, Eric and I broke out and started doing some of our own rides as a group on the weekends.  I truly have enjoyed getting to know both of them while on the road and afterwards.  Eric has turned into the route map director by figuring out routes that are not only fun and challenging to ride, but also have history and maybe a Beagle or two.  Chris has become our cheerleader; he is that guy that flies by you as you are starting to climb telling you to keep pushing and is always at the stop cheering you on as you finally make it over the top.    Chris even came up with the idea to start our own club, appropriately named "The Flat Iowa Society" since everyone seems to think Iowa has no hills.  And together as a group we know that regardless if it is only 52 degrees on a July ride that has rain and wind, riding with the both of them always guarantees a belly full of laughs and lots of stories to be shared.

You see in life, there are times when we just want to find people who like to do what we do.  Not only so that you don't have to do it alone, but also to have friends to share in the stories, laughs, and especially to help out with the road gets hilly.  They are the people that encourage us to push harder but to also enjoy the view around you - they make the ride so much better.  And it is when you are truly surrounded by a great group of friends that you completely forget that you are even climbing whatever hill you may be facing and learn to sit back enjoy the ride.   

The view from a Saturday morning ride with Eric and Chris

Lessons Learned

This past fall I made decision to move to Dubuque, Iowa, after living the past 4 years in Clear Lake/Mason City.  It was a decision I didn't make lightly, but one that I felt was right for me at the right time.  When I told my friends, many said that Dubuque is such a great town because it is right on the Mississippi River, had lots of entertainment, things to do outside, yada yada yada - which is all great reasons for me to move to a new town.  But one person said the one big reason I wanted to move here: Dubuque is great place to bike ride.

I got into cycling when I was living in Anchorage and I bought my first mountain bike - Tessie.  I rode that bike to work almost everyday and the dirt paths in and around Anchorage.  I learned from my cousins about how to take care of it and how to change a flat.  But mostly I learned how biking can teach you so many lessons in life.

When I moved back to Iowa in 2009, Tessie had to stay in Alaska for a little bit longer, so I used my old bike from college to ride around Clear Lake.  This bike never got a name, but I always used one word to describe it - heavy.  I still remember my first attempted to ride her around the lake and it did not go well.  I was out of breath and my butt was aching only a few miles in.  But I still rode it as much as I could to see how far I could make it before having to turn around.  Soon afterwards, Tessie made the trip to Iowa along with my mom's old 1985 Schwinn Roadster.  Tessie helped me find some dirt to ride in Mason City and the Schwinn helped me finish the ride around the lake.

After a year or two with the Schwinn, I started to really enjoy road riding, so I bought a new Scott road bike - Tessa, and feel in love the feel of the road.  The view from my seat let me see Iowa in a whole new light.  It also gave me challenges, like climbing hills and trying to not get hit by a tractors or trucks.  But most importantly, it gave me more freedom to explore and see in a new way.

You see biking is like an addiction to me.  For a few glorious hours, everything else in your life lifts away and is left on the road.  From dodging cars, escaping lawn sharks and trying not spit on another rider, you don't have time while on your bike to check your email/Facebook/texts.  You only have time to ride.  And soon the road consumes you and everything that you had stressed about is left behind and all that matters is you and your bike. 

Now, that I am in Dubuque and am half way through a summer of cycling here, I have learned even more about biking, life, and the road, and I want to share those lessons here so that maybe you can see what I see from my handlebars.