What special privileges do you extend to those for whom you have affinity? Do you let your favorite neighborhood kid mow your lawn rather than hire the job out professionally at an insignificantly higher rate? Do you have a special bar that you go to with your best buddy that you wouldn't take your wife to? Do you always hold your Saturday nights open for your significant other before all others? Do you only put together model planes with just that one nephew? Do you share a long-running inside joke with one of your co-workers that no one else gets let in on? Do you have a "thing" that's just between you and someone special to you?
When this privilege is meaningful to you, how do you know that you should extend it to the person fortunate enough to have exclusive access to it? Do you expect it to be accepted most every time it's extended? Do you need to see appreciation for the gesture? Do you have to know that they want that "thing" to be reserved just for them?
How do you deal with others who would like to have the privilege of sharing that "thing" with you, either in addition to the privileged individual or instead of him/her? Does it validate the significance of the privilege you extend exclusively to another? Does it cause you to feel that the special "thing" is enviously coveted by others? Do you feel threatened, annoyed or angered by others attempts to gain access to the "thing"? Does it provide a sense of security that you may be able to still enjoy that "thing" if the privilege is neglected?
Questions like this have led me to realize that I am deeply sentimental. It's a wake-up call to know that not everyone can understand and appreciate the sentiment in the extension of special privilege. Knowing this, and knowing that I do need others to understand and appreciate the privileges I reserve just for them, is invaluable in my efforts to continually learn to better navigate life.
Showing posts with label challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label challenge. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Barbour deTour
On Saturday, July 2, I "raced" in the Barbour deTour. I quote it like that because with as slow as I am my races are more like my own lone-biker rides.
Before the start of the race I was concerned that I might not have enough water, so I was very conservative with my consumption during the first 1/3 or so of the race. In hindsight I could have taken more, but I didn't feel like I suffered any performance loss due to dehydration.
Although I was hopeful that I could hang with the pack a bit longer in this race, I yet again did not make it completely up the first hill before I was dropped. I like to think that I made it a bit further up the hill with the pack this time than I did at Smokin' on the Tygart.
This course was flatter and faster than the Smokin' on the Tygart course, even though it shared some of the same sections. The on-the-ball course marshals who volunteered for this race were also quite a treat!
About half-way into the race I collided with a big freakin' bee! I don't know if I ran into it or it ran into me, but it sucked. Everything was going along fine until...THWAP...right on the side of the face. For about half a second I didn't know what the heck was going on...then it stung. I screamed like a girl, tore its fuzzy carcass off my face, flung it away in disgust and tried to scratch out the stinger.
My first thought was a hope that my face wasn't going to be all swollen up (or some other such lovely effect) for post-race festivities. The sting really irritated me at first. Then the thoughts of it putting a damper on my day really pissed me off. Then I pedaled harder! After a while I didn't even notice it anymore.
A little later in the race I noticed that I kept leap-frogging a racer who was wearing a SRAM jersey that had a silhouette of a frog on it. I gleaned some mild amusement from that coincidence and kept at it until I passed him for the last time.
On the back half of the race I managed to pass about a half-dozen masters and juniors. This is definitely a first for me! I try to not think too much of it though, and consider that the flatter course did bring out some racers that didn't seem to be part of the regular APRRS crowd.
I don't know if it helped much but on the descents (even the very gentle ones) I conserved energy by kissing the bars and coasting as soon as I would hit a speed of around 25 MPH. I heard that this is a smart thing to do, and considering the energy I'll exert just to get going that extra 2-3 MPH faster, I buy it.
Throughout the race I tried to not look too often at my Garmin to see how many miles I was into the race - it always seems to go faster if I don't know. But as soon as I realized I was back on the lollipop stick I was excited and ready to finish!!!
Before the start of the race I was concerned that I might not have enough water, so I was very conservative with my consumption during the first 1/3 or so of the race. In hindsight I could have taken more, but I didn't feel like I suffered any performance loss due to dehydration.
Although I was hopeful that I could hang with the pack a bit longer in this race, I yet again did not make it completely up the first hill before I was dropped. I like to think that I made it a bit further up the hill with the pack this time than I did at Smokin' on the Tygart.
This course was flatter and faster than the Smokin' on the Tygart course, even though it shared some of the same sections. The on-the-ball course marshals who volunteered for this race were also quite a treat!
About half-way into the race I collided with a big freakin' bee! I don't know if I ran into it or it ran into me, but it sucked. Everything was going along fine until...THWAP...right on the side of the face. For about half a second I didn't know what the heck was going on...then it stung. I screamed like a girl, tore its fuzzy carcass off my face, flung it away in disgust and tried to scratch out the stinger.
My first thought was a hope that my face wasn't going to be all swollen up (or some other such lovely effect) for post-race festivities. The sting really irritated me at first. Then the thoughts of it putting a damper on my day really pissed me off. Then I pedaled harder! After a while I didn't even notice it anymore.
A little later in the race I noticed that I kept leap-frogging a racer who was wearing a SRAM jersey that had a silhouette of a frog on it. I gleaned some mild amusement from that coincidence and kept at it until I passed him for the last time.
On the back half of the race I managed to pass about a half-dozen masters and juniors. This is definitely a first for me! I try to not think too much of it though, and consider that the flatter course did bring out some racers that didn't seem to be part of the regular APRRS crowd.
I don't know if it helped much but on the descents (even the very gentle ones) I conserved energy by kissing the bars and coasting as soon as I would hit a speed of around 25 MPH. I heard that this is a smart thing to do, and considering the energy I'll exert just to get going that extra 2-3 MPH faster, I buy it.
Throughout the race I tried to not look too often at my Garmin to see how many miles I was into the race - it always seems to go faster if I don't know. But as soon as I realized I was back on the lollipop stick I was excited and ready to finish!!!
As I was coming into town I didn't realize how close I would shortly come to losing my life outside of the flippin' Philippi KFC! Approaching the dreaded fast food joint I noticed a small SUV pulling slowly out from the drive-thru exit into the center turning lane. At first I thought that the driver was surely just going to hang in the turning lane until I passed, but ever so slowly, the SUV kept coming right toward my lane. I started shouting, then screaming, and when even screaming at the top of my lungs (and believe me folks, that is LOUD) did nothing, I jammed on the brakes. My rear wheel started to skid a little but luckily I kept it under control and still managed to get slowed enough in time to avoid running into the back of the SUV.
Yes, running into the back of it...by this time it was already slowing and starting to re-enter the center lane to make a left turn less than a block away from the drive-thru exit where it came from. (WTF?!?! Was it really necessary to get all the way into my lane for that? Better question still, why the hell didn't that wacko just leave KFC from that exit?) Getting as close as I did to the SUV I could tell that it was being driven by a little old lady. And I gotta tell you that if that was your grandma, then I'm sorry that Granny deserved getting the finger and a stream of profanity for that stunt!!! But given that she was obviously thoroughly deaf and completely oblivious to what was going on, I doubt that she noticed that any more than she noticed almost running me down.
As well-deserved as it was, my outburst didn't make me feel any better about all of it and I hoped that the racers I'd passed weren't closing in on me. (Not that it would have really mattered, all the Cat 4 women had been well ahead of me for miles.) Even though I was possibly as dismayed and ticked off as I could ever be, all I wanted to do was just finish the race. I put the hammer down and sprinted in as best I could. After crossing the finish line I took a lap around the block and tried to be thankful that I was able to finish rather than being scraped off the road by local EMS.
When I got back to the car I was still madder than hell. I racked my bike and grabbed a lemonade from the post-race refreshment cooler. I BS'd with some of the racers and recounted my near-miss with the chicken-lovin', partially-lobotomized blue-hair. After I checked my Garmin and noticed that I finished the race in less than two hours, I realized that there was still plenty of time to get back into town, get cleaned up and crash a cookout before heading up to Pittsburgh to dance the night away. Long story short, it was a pretty good day.
Yes, running into the back of it...by this time it was already slowing and starting to re-enter the center lane to make a left turn less than a block away from the drive-thru exit where it came from. (WTF?!?! Was it really necessary to get all the way into my lane for that? Better question still, why the hell didn't that wacko just leave KFC from that exit?) Getting as close as I did to the SUV I could tell that it was being driven by a little old lady. And I gotta tell you that if that was your grandma, then I'm sorry that Granny deserved getting the finger and a stream of profanity for that stunt!!! But given that she was obviously thoroughly deaf and completely oblivious to what was going on, I doubt that she noticed that any more than she noticed almost running me down.
As well-deserved as it was, my outburst didn't make me feel any better about all of it and I hoped that the racers I'd passed weren't closing in on me. (Not that it would have really mattered, all the Cat 4 women had been well ahead of me for miles.) Even though I was possibly as dismayed and ticked off as I could ever be, all I wanted to do was just finish the race. I put the hammer down and sprinted in as best I could. After crossing the finish line I took a lap around the block and tried to be thankful that I was able to finish rather than being scraped off the road by local EMS.
When I got back to the car I was still madder than hell. I racked my bike and grabbed a lemonade from the post-race refreshment cooler. I BS'd with some of the racers and recounted my near-miss with the chicken-lovin', partially-lobotomized blue-hair. After I checked my Garmin and noticed that I finished the race in less than two hours, I realized that there was still plenty of time to get back into town, get cleaned up and crash a cookout before heading up to Pittsburgh to dance the night away. Long story short, it was a pretty good day.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Hazy Day of Dash (Warrior Dash Weekend I, No. 5)
Organized chaos
in the parking area
sets the vibe.
Muddy people,
excited people;
some both.
Buses carry
the wildly clad
back and forth.
Crowds
organized, corralled, served
with little stringency.
New citizens of this transient town
trade cash and credit
for the current currency.
Commerce booms,
beer flows,
legs are roasted and devoured.
Dashers and gawkers,
sharing a common bond,
relate unexpectedly in familiar ways.
Crowds are the norm;
loners draw
questions and dismay.
Hazy daylight fades inhibitions;
a Dasher frolics
freely and joyfully.
Men of men
pose for posterity
in all manners of dress.
Warriors
are we
who take up the challenge.
in the parking area
sets the vibe.
Muddy people,
excited people;
some both.
Buses carry
the wildly clad
back and forth.
Crowds
organized, corralled, served
with little stringency.
New citizens of this transient town
trade cash and credit
for the current currency.
Commerce booms,
beer flows,
legs are roasted and devoured.
Dashers and gawkers,
sharing a common bond,
relate unexpectedly in familiar ways.
Crowds are the norm;
loners draw
questions and dismay.
Hazy daylight fades inhibitions;
a Dasher frolics
freely and joyfully.
Men of men
pose for posterity
in all manners of dress.
Warriors
are we
who take up the challenge.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Rain + P4P = No Fun
Ok, at no time in the past have I claimed, and at no time in the foreseeable future will I claim to be a good mountain biker, but after last week's Pedal for Pints I was feeling pretty good about my MTB skills. Well that sure changed this week.
The rain made the trails in White Park about as slick as snail snot. Even though I gave my friend Tim Nelms a hard time for wussing out on doing the race again this week, it wasn't long into the parade lap that I understood that his excuse wasn't so lame. He'd explained that he didn't have good knobby tires on his bike and that even last week, when the trails were reasonably dry, he was sliding around more than he'd like. In my experience tonight though, not even the knobbies I was riding on were enough to keep the bike under me.
Some time around the, I dunno, fifth or seventh "unintentional dismount" and less than 3/4 of the way into the parade lap, I decided that if I continued on then in the best case scenario, I wouldn't have any fun, and in the worst case I'd wind up injuring myself. So at my next available opportunity to bail out of the course, I took it and rode around on the neighborhood streets, hoping to sling some of the mud out of my tires before racking up the bike and heading home.
Yes sir, the rain sure made this week's P4P a race for real men and women, while little sissy girls like me were left to collect their dollies and pout all the way home.
The rain made the trails in White Park about as slick as snail snot. Even though I gave my friend Tim Nelms a hard time for wussing out on doing the race again this week, it wasn't long into the parade lap that I understood that his excuse wasn't so lame. He'd explained that he didn't have good knobby tires on his bike and that even last week, when the trails were reasonably dry, he was sliding around more than he'd like. In my experience tonight though, not even the knobbies I was riding on were enough to keep the bike under me.
Some time around the, I dunno, fifth or seventh "unintentional dismount" and less than 3/4 of the way into the parade lap, I decided that if I continued on then in the best case scenario, I wouldn't have any fun, and in the worst case I'd wind up injuring myself. So at my next available opportunity to bail out of the course, I took it and rode around on the neighborhood streets, hoping to sling some of the mud out of my tires before racking up the bike and heading home.
Yes sir, the rain sure made this week's P4P a race for real men and women, while little sissy girls like me were left to collect their dollies and pout all the way home.
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