Category Archives: Lifestyle

lifestyle

To Vermont From Maine; the end of a month on the coast

It is important to recognize one chapter as it closes and a new one begins, to carry forward that which is recent past. Wellbeing springs from the small things, duly experienced, identified and remembered.

Today I am uncharacteristically undisciplined. At least that is the word some would use; I prefer to use words like structure, organization, commitment, etc. when I speak of my work and practice, my habits and lifestyle. In any event, it’s what I am, or am not, today. It is the day before I drive back to Vermont from my month’s relocation (another word I use instead of vacation which somehow signifies that I am still industrious, still doing something useful and not lounging around ineffectually – I guess).

Will I never learn? I counsel clients and write about the value of rest, recovery, regeneration. In my faith I strive to be silent, even if only for a few minutes. I read favorite writers who encourage me to do so – writers like Kathleen Norris and my newfound favorite Anna Quindlen. Yet I resist. At the hint of success, I become apologetic. But today I am giving myself over to mixed emotions that are wheeling around inside me like bumper cars in the boardwalk arcades of my childhood.

My to-do list is crowded: write my pieces for next week’s “Active Vermont” page, post a blog, do loads of laundry (but be careful of the whites that will turn orange with the rust in the water), pack a month’s worth of living on the rocky shores of an ocean Sound, clean and clean the cottage so there are no remaining footprints (or rather white hairs) from my two little old Jack Russells who have already indicated that they are as loathe to leave as I am, pick up trinkets for the kids and Christmas presents for friends, fill the gas tank, say goodbye to new friends, write thank you notes to old ones, take one last walk along the water and one final search for shells and seaglass.

I was meant to do a tempo training ride today. Not happenin’. It’s cool, overcast, windy and, most of all, I lack the motivation to do so. So my final ride for this summer as well as my final paddle are over. Missed already. I love to ride here. Sometimes I am fortunate enough to share these roads and surprisingly challenging hills with Teague and Tara or with my summer riding companions of Merrymeeting Wheelers out of Brunswick. Sometimes I ride alone but those rides, too, are satisfying and joyous. The roads here in mid-coast Maine are constantly being repaired and, though there is often no shoulder, it does not matter as the surface is good and drivers SLOW DOWN and observe the Maine 3’ safe passing LAW. The coincidence of good paving and considerate drivers is a blessing for which I am daily thankful.

Paddling is pure pleasure. We try to start in the morning before the wind picks up and often find ourselves heading out with the tide. Put-ins are plentiful if you look for them, and any starting point marks the beginning exploration of shoreline, cove, islands, rocky coasts, and a few beaches. Working dories and lobster boats, pricey pleasure and more pricey sailboats, a daily cruise boat from Portland and an authentic schooner (chartered) create my neighborhood as I remind myself with each stroke to engage my core, sit up and try to look like I know what I’m doing. I can’t resist pausing when I see a suspicious head in front of me that turns out to be a seal or to whip out my ever-present, waterproof camera to take a shot of a quaint cottage, a lobster buoy that catches the light, an osprey or once, and eagle. Today, however, I can only think about these things.

After saying goodbye to my husband who drove away this morning, I took the girls for a ride, or so I told myself. My car ended up parked in front of a store in downtown Brunswick and later at the tip of Bailey’s Island. Back at the cottage I unloaded my bags of goodies and realized that I wanted yet another cup of coffee and eat bagels loaded with peanut butter. (OK, I did stop at one organic, multigrain bagel topped with freshly ground almond butter from a wonderful natural foods market charmingly named Morning Glory.) I sat down to write and somehow ended up talking with my daughter and arranging shells and bits of sea glass that I have carefully collected over the past four weeks (paltry; how DO people find this stuff by the bag full?) and filling an antique replica glass jar to bring a bit of the coast home to my studio.

I think of my Maine friends: Sue, my favorite realtor anywhere; the owner of my cottage with whom I connect on important levels; the neighbor across from me who has the mind-bending job of working with the memory impaired and elders facing an already forgotten end; Jenn who tirelessly organizes and befriends each of us as cyclists and Pam. I just met Pam and she amazes me. There is no doubt that our paths were meant to cross. Pam exudes energy, generosity, kindness; a woman whose beliefs and trust have seen her through some tough times; a woman who does not shy away from very hard work or the needs of those around her, and, those around her happen to be her family. What a privilege it is for me to live briefly on the edges of an entire community that is comprised of various members residing somewhere on the proverbial family tree; a community that lives and works together and supports each other. (You might want to check her website: http://www.pamsmainewreaths.com. )

So I’ve given it up for today. The washer is going and my things are finding their way into piles to stuff into duffels and load up for an early departure tomorrow morning – but NOT until after I watch the dawn break over the Sound and have my morning coffee on the deck as the sun rises, watching the ducks dive for food and hearing the occasional slap of a fish who enters the water leaving expanding ripples on the surface. In a few hours I will walk the dogs along the shore of Potts Point as it juts into the ocean. I will go at low tide so they can walk on sand and not shoals. I’ll time it so that I can see the sunset and hope it will be a blazing orb quickly descending below the tree line on the opposite shore. I was here when the moon was spectacularly full. Now the last phase of it will appear late.

These are moments I will remember. I still rock slightly with the rhythm of my boat in the water. I hear the whirligig spin and watch the sailor in his yellow slicker row like mad to keep up. A distant buoy clangs, a hummingbird hurries past, a noisy squirrel sits in a tree next to the deck and taunts Lucy and Lola, the incoming tide splashes against the rocks and a snake that I do my best to avoid camps out on the steps to the dock when the sun is warming them. I did not read as much as I had planned, did not complete online courses that I hoped to finish, did not write or train more than absolutely necessary and did not really sleep late as I never wanted to miss fishermen in lobster boats motoring out to set traps. I did spend every possible minute outdoors, riding, paddling, walking, hiking and giving myself over to my family and the uncomplicated experience of being here. And why cannot I do that in Vermont? Vermont is the perfect bookend to Maine. Mountains of strength and spectacular beauty join an ocean of possibilities accompanied by reassurance that there is balance in the natural rhythms and continuous movement. Life between these two is sustained by heightened awareness, dreams to be dreamed and the promise of “thus far and no farther.” I CAN take it all home with me; take it home to be savored and shared; home to be lived and practiced; home to be loved; the essence of well-being.

Maine Moments

Sometimes regeneration comes when slowing down, not stopping, and seeing things through different eyes. The following appeared as: THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD, Rutland Herald & Times Argus, ACTIVE VERMONT, August 10, 2014

Surely I’m not alone. My heart resides in the mountains of Vermont, but a bit of my spirit needs the ocean. This is my fourth year spending some of my summer on the coast of Maine. .

At the time it seemed a stroke of luck, but now I believe it was meant to be. One winter I randomly opened a Down East magazine and my eye fell on a simple one-liner of a cottage rental on one of many fingers of land that jut out into the ocean. I characterize the place by saying that if I fell off the deck, I’d spill down the rocky bank and get wet. (OK, there is no crashing surf but the water is legitimately salty and rises and falls with the 6-hour tidal changes.)

What has become “my” cottage is perfect. Quiet, simple, off the beaten path, it is the place I go to recharge and play.

Last week I saw Maine through the eyes of a soon-to-be 10 year old new to it all. For one week we were unplugged: no computer, tv, radio, iPod or even heart rate monitor, only an iPhone to assure her parents that we were always accessible.

It all began when we packed my little Subaru with a month’s worth of work, play and living for me, a week’s worth for her, and two Jack Russells who needed as much gear and grub as we did. With kayak and bike on the roof, and Anne of Green Gables (unabridged) in the cd player, we embarked on an adventure that turned out to be as meaningful and fresh with discovery for me as it was for her.

When I unlocked the door, I was touched to see in her face the wonder and awe that I feel each time I cross the threshold. In an instant, I knew that we would share equally. If I could slow down, speed up or pause at just the right times, I would see anew. There’s only one first: one first time away from home, one first time to see a blazing sunset reflected on the water, taste the salt on one’s face after a day at the beach, measure the hours by the tides or glimpse a seal. To revisit that first time with a child is a treasured gift.

“Recovery is a Valid and Necessary Part of Fitness.”

How many times have I said this, sternly urging clients to balance their active training days with appropriate recovery, time for the body to regenerate and, in doing so, retain strength and performance gains instead of breaking down and diminishing. Do I listen to my own coaching?

Not once in 6 days did I unpack my gear bag, inflate tires, lace running shoes, lift a dumbbell or even think TRX or Bosu. I also gave my disciplined psyche a rest. We stayed up late, slept in, forgot to eat, then messed about in the kitchen scrabbling together whacky meals after dark. We let the sun’s position in the sky and our curiosity provide loose structure to our days. Can this only be done in the company of a child? Do we need permission?

This is not to say we were inactive. We walked, swam, scuttled over rocks, squatted, reached, pushed, pulled, hopped, skipped and jumped our way through the hours. But, the key is that we paused when we wanted.

And there were questions. Matthew Cuthbert’s halting “Well … Now … I don’t know” became a theme as well as a challenge to search for each answer.

At the conclusion of Anne of Green Gables, we segued to Cynthia Lord’s wonderful story “Touch Blue” (Scholastic, Inc. 2012). To our delight, Tess, a spunky 11-year-old, compares her family’s experience welcoming a foster child to their simple island home in Maine with that of Marilla, Matthew and Anne (“spelled with an e”) when the latter arrived at the little farm house on Prince Edward Island. Sweet serendipity.

Words we read became part of the fabric of each outing. One calm day we paddled (another first) from the mainland out to an island accessible only by boat. Residents parked their cars on the shore, walked to their dories docked nearby, loaded their groceries, supplies and usually a dog, and puttered off to the island to reverse the process. When her fatigue became obvious, I resisted the urge to paddle on and we simply floated in the gently moving water. Twenty minutes later we were good to go, but better. In that space of time we had shared dreams and closed our eyes to memorize the rhythms of the waves. I taught her how to paddle using more than arms and shoulders, how to employ the core by turning the upper body with each stroke and pushing as well as pulling the shaft. She got it. While abdominal muscles were at work on each paddle stroke, the ceaseless rock and glide of the boat became a part of our emotional core. (Mark Verstegen, who did ground-breaking work on functional training and the core, connects core strength with core values.)

Later we compared our sea journey with the Maine Atlas and Robert McCloskey’s classic “Time of Wonder” locating islands named Sheep, Pumpkin, Three Sisters and Birch. Words were more than read.

Power, Strength, Force, Balance

Though these words apply to physical conditioning, we found them on the beach too. To a child familiar with mountain trails, the ocean is compelling. Should it be feared or is respect enough? Does it represent work or play? I have a series of photos that mark the transition from first tentative steps to open-mouthed surprise when being tumbled. Cold, noisy, relentless, the rollers curl into breakers as the undertow buries feet in the sand and upsets the best balance.

We had driven to a beach some distance away in order to witness the ocean in all its glory. With only a few visitors, ocean’s edge became hers to enjoy with abandon. Unselfconsciously she jumped and fell, dunked and ran, sang and skipped and teased the waves as they did her.

“Touch blue and your wish will come true,” Lord writes. Despite daily trips to calmer beaches searching for shells and sea glass, we found only one smooth chunk of blue. Periwinkles we have by the dozens, scooped up by the handful and carefully washed and dried back at the cottage. We collected bright bits of shells, rocks that, of course, were more colorful wet than later dried but oh well, small pieces of driftwood and our sparse collection of glass. Just before packing for home, she filled several jars with scrupulously selected samples of each and tied a ribbon around the top to take home as gifts.

There was oh so much more. Perhaps what will most remain in memory for this sensitive child is a week’s worth of daily life on the coast and her sense of familiarity with the cottage and the dirt road loop we walked many times. Looking from her bedroom window she could watch the sunrise over water, hear the creaking of the floating dock, the coo of the doves and the shrill call of the seagulls. From the deck we watched cormorants stretch their wings to dry and the ducks dive for breakfast as we ate our own.

On the other side of the peninsula we watched sunsets so brilliant that, had an artist painted them, we would have scoffed at his exaggeration. The fragile new moon hung above the tops of the pine trees standing on a lump of land that was, at low tide, a short walk from the mainland, and at high tide, an island.

On the night we left to drive towards home, that same moon was bolder and turned a deep orange, leading us towards Vermont. Returning hours later, I unlocked the door to the empty cottage and stepped in to begin the next chapter of my Maine. There, on the table with a love note, was the piece of blue sea glass. I touched it and feel sure that our wishes will come true.

CYCLING NOTES FROM THE ROAD

Sometimes I pick up a book or a magazine that just seems to resonate with me or say just what I need to hear. This time it was a magazine.

Last Tuesday it rained. Somehow it often rains, or threatens to rain, on one of my favorite midweek afternoons. On Tuesdays my group ride, RoadSpokes 201, congregates at about 5 and heads out on the roads by 5:30 p.m. It is an amazing group of a variety of riders who join together simply to ride, to enjoy having company, and to train a little and/or learn a little.

Usually by Tuesday I have sent out an email with a suggested training plan or principle to think about and use. Or not. This time, however, it had looked like our ride was destined to be cancelled. On my way to the parking lot, I grabbed an August Bicycling Magazine that had just arrived in my mailbox.

Well, wouldn’t you know, it cleared up and by 5 riders began to arrive. I needed something to share. I opened Bicycling and found the perfect article on riding in the heat. Here is some of what I learned and shared:

1. A handy formula for riding in the heat and perhaps cutting back in intensity (giving yourself “permission” to do so?) is to add the temperature to the relative humidity. If the total is 130 or more, dial back. When we rode Tuesday it started out as 85 degrees with relative humidity of 55. We started with a nice ride out and then picked up the pace for a fun and fast ride. Great ride:)

2. When preparing for an event (like the OR Century), and especially if you anticipate hot and humid weather, consume fluids liberally throughout the entire preceding week.

3. Be sure to include a combination of carbs and protein in your post ride fuel – not only is protein needed for repair, but it also helps hold replenishing fluids.

In the Know How section, there was a great article, Keep It Simple, dispelling the myths of perceived hard and fast “rules” used by the pros. “Alison Tetrick of Team Twenty16 explains what makes sense in the real world.” For example: if you’re riding with friends and feeling great (or not great), ditch your training plan and enjoy the day.

“Ride for four or more hours multiple days a week. Do this instead. You probably don’t have unlimited spare time, and unless you’re training for a big-mileage event, you don’t need to put in endless hours of pedaling week in and week out. Maintain or improve our fitness by building high-intensity efforts into rides of an hour or two. Go to BICYCLING.com/intensity to choose from a variety of intervals that will make you stronger and faster.”

On the other hand, on another page, Bill Stickland quotes from a forgotten source: “Ride for at least 30 minutes a day. If you’re too busy to do that, you better ride for an hour.”

Perhaps my fav, however, is “Small Mercies,” a piece by Heidi Swift for her regular column JOY RIDE. In it she tells of incidents when she was struggling on a ride, being dropped or fighting wind. Each time another rider(s) returned to help her finish. Referring to each, she concludes: “…reminded me of my humanity-of our humanity-that who we are and how we behave on the bike is simply an amplified version of who we are in the world. That our bicycles can transport us and transform us-but that they can also crack us open and lay us bare and force us to be raw and honest and exposed. That we can choose in the worst moments to treat each other with compassion and that maybe, as cyclists just as with other people, we are really only as good as our last small act of mercy.”

For many, if not most, of us, riding is about so much more than being first. Performance matters. But it is the process, the shared dreams and goals and fears, the small accomplishments, the tiny victories along with the seemingly large defeats, and the people, that matter most.

Perhaps it is what cycling is all about. It is work, hard work. It is learning and training. It is exposing oneself to things that scare us, things that can break us. It is baring oneself to vistas and emotions that can only be seen and experienced from a bike. It is a climb, an opportunity to grow, to enlarge, to find patience and strength you did not know you possess. It is a downhill, a release, a shout of pure joy, abandon. It is motivation, dedication, endurance. It is real life played out on a small saddle on two skinny tires.

RoadSpokes is the proverbial pebble dropped into the pond. By meeting and riding weekly, we connect, make friends, find cycling partners for other times, other routes, other training. We adhere strictly to a no-drop policy. Encouragement and camaraderie flows freely, stories are swapped and advice is exchanged.

Yes, riding alone can be beneficial and a privilege; as one rider recently dubbed it, a “zen” ride. But there’s nothing like meeting up with, riding and then celebrating our sport and our friends. I wish you both, along with miles and miles of safe and happy memories.

just do it

Recently I wrote a short piece for ACTIVE VERMONT, my page in the Rutland Herald/Times Argus Sunday newspaper, that sparked interest and generated comments from a number of readers. Clearly we all suffer from the same reticence to perform certain deeds,complete particular training plans or take the steps needed to meet goals. Several have told me that they connected with this concept, they aspire to the notion that sometimes we need to “pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps,” (wherever did that saying come from? surely it’s obsolete but we get the point), and, well, just do it.

July is a month packed with notable sports that lure us to the home screen. Wimbledon Tennis (June 23-July 6); FIFA World Cup Soccer (June 12-August 13); Tour de France (July 5-27); MLB All-Star Game (July 15); British Open (July 17-20): and surely more draw us like magnets to a cooler indoor setting and a comfy chair. That’s fine. There’s room in our days to spectate as well as participate. There’s a place for R&R, team spirit, camaraderie, and some level of motivation that sneaks in the back door when playing the observer position.

But, don’t forget, there are always two sides: left and right, forward and back, offense and defense, (we’ll leave right and wrong off this field), and, of course, spectator and participant. Sometimes to assume the latter role one needs a push, to “just do it.” Read on.

Just do it. I say it often. I say it to my clients when I ask them to do a particular training exercise and they look at me with that are-you-nuts look. I say it to myself when I am dragging and need to walk into a room and appear energetic and encouraging to a group of individuals who are unsure about their fitness commitment. I say it when I sit down at my computer after a long day and know that I must say something significant in response to emails, post a blog or write my Sunday Active Vermont page. Sometimes I say it before my treasured training rides or even when the alarm goes off.

It works. JUST DO IT (stylized in all caps), coined by Nike in 1988 by Dan Wieden of Wieden and Kennedy ad agency, has become the go-to motivator for a large cross section of the world’s population. Last summer the slogan celebrated its 25^th anniversary as one of the most recognized and often uttered phrases in all time. Remember, this was before the media and digital explosion erupted in texts and tweets, before “going viral” was a model.

JUST DO IT is more than a means to sell running shoes and appeals to far more than runners. The phrase is simple and invites definition. It is individual, offering a very personal connection.

In fact, the story of the inception of the phrase demonstrates the simplicity of the time as well. It seems that in an early ad, 80-year old Walt Stack jogged across Golden Gate Bridge. While doing so he shared tales of his daily 17mile run and quipped that in the winter he kept his teeth from chattering by leaving them in his locker.

Smith Rock is a well-know climbing mecca in Oregon that attracts climbers of many levels and abilities. In 1992 a French climber, Jean-Babtiste Tribout (known as J.B., born in 1961) scaled a route that had not previously been climbed. He named the ascent “Just do it.” Today that route is rated as a 5.14. Its overhanging wall is known as the most difficult climbing in America.

Is there a connection between Smith Rock and Nike? Presumably it is merely coincidental, but the spirit is the same.

Perhaps that is the magic of JUST DO IT. It is a sentiment that works for each of us; it easily rolls off the tongue. Basic or erudite, the concept can be found in any collection of memorable quotes. For example: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” (H.Thurman, African-American writer).

Or: “Do it no matter what. If you believe in it, it is something very honorable. If somebody around you or your family does not understand it, then that’s their problem. But if you do have a passion, an honest passion, just do it.” (Mario Andretti, and we all know who he is.)

Often there is no right or wrong, no hard and fast rule, no all or nothing. Often there is “just do it.”

didn’t get lost on this century

DON’T MISS THE SCENERY ON YOUR NEXT ROAD RIDE

Cycling on the road requires vigilance and almost intuitive awareness. In addition to working hard to maintain speed (and not get dropped by companions) and working even harder to climb (especially if you live in hill country like I do – Vermont), we cyclists also need to guide our skinny tires away from cracks and potholes, anticipate terrain changes in order to refrain from popping a chain, know where oncoming and following traffic is at all times (hard to rely on hearing with the new quiet cars) and ride predictably to give motorists a few guidelines.

We need to carefully plan rides (especially for those of us who get lost easily and really don’t want to backtrack over that climb), prepare well for emergencies (tires and tools, energy bars and waters), and, of course, the inevitable surprise rain shower or drop in temperature.

This past week, for example, one group ride was cancelled due to rain, black skies, and forecasts of everything from hail to tornados. As luck would have it, at ride time the rain stopped and none of the other things occurred. However, best to be on the safe side. We did not ride. The next day appeared to be gray but decent – until we got about 3 miles from the start, realized the roads were wet and we were wetter. What is the moral of this story? There is none. Plan as carefully as possible and then be flexible enough to deal with reality, I guess.

There are some things I did learn this week however. Wet roads do not necessarily mean that narrow bike tires are destined to slide out from under the rider. Of course, when faced with wet roads it is important to ride conservatively, avoid the slippery painted lines and don’t choose that day to practice cornering aggressively. Other than that, you should arrive back at the start without incident.

Then there are those sunny days. If one comes along, drop everything and add a just-for-fun ride. I am accustomed to riding purposefully and considering each ride as a training ride. I do realize, however, that some days it is equally important to ride unplugged – leave the heart rate monitor or power meter numbers out of a casual jaunt. Even more, take the time to stop now and then to check out the scenery. Sometimes I ride along and, out of the corner of my eye, note the redwing blackbird that sits on the sign at the side of the road clearly standing guard over a nearby nest. I might smell the scent of fresh cut grass or notice the proliferation of wildflowers tempted to stop to take a picture of a common field made brilliant by dandelions.

It’s ok to do that, you know. With most of us carrying smart phones, a nice camera is sitting in a jersey pocket. This week I rode past a sight so familiar to me that I took it for granted, until I noted the way the light was cohabiting with the shadows (photo above). While I may not know what my average HR was on that ride or what watts I used going uphill nearby, I will remember this view. Now, as my computer wall paper, it reminds me to go ahead, ride unplugged and don’t miss the scenery – at least once in awhile.

VERMONT SPRING

Periodized training often dovetails neatly with the seasons. Those whose sport of choice involves warm weather, find themselves eager to move beyond the base building phase of late winter into accelerated training. There’s nothing like a spring thaw to motivate and build both strength and speed on the strong foundations out down in winter.

“If you plan to participate in an organized event, you need to be ramping up your training now. Over the winter you may have diligently spent hours establishing a base, but your base is just that, a foundation on which to build. It is time to do so. In keeping with the season, move to the next level, literally or figuratively “put a spring in your step.” As you have steadily logged miles at moderate intensity, your body has become stronger and more efficient. You find that you are able to travel farther in the same amount of time and that you are now eager to reach for more.” Linda Freeman, Active Vermont, Sunday April 13, 2014, Rutland Herald and Times Argus.

Though a Vermont spring brings its challenges: swollen rivers and brooks, mud and more mud, pot holes and debris, wind and chill, even random snow, the season ignites an anticipatory feeling, a guarantee that Vermont’s incredible, clean, dazzling summer is just around the corner. Spring teases. Spring is playful.

Early a.m. April 16, 2014 Vermont.

“Putting a spring in your step may mean spicing up your outdoor activity with some pick-ups, or brief bursts of energy. Short and sweet, pick-ups are also fun. Go ahead, play. Skip, hop, run, chase, tag and race. These mini bouts of effort, or intervals, teach your body to accelerate as well as recover. Consistent, moderate intensity exercise is vastly important in your overall plan, but segments of hard work spike capability, confidence and fitness. Not surprisingly, the byproduct of intervals is as much mental and emotional as physical. Energy is not depleted by exercise. As it increases, so does enthusiasm, motivation and a sense of optimism. As you pick up the pace, you find you will identify your progress and become eager to see how much more you can achieve. You learn to accept tests as part of the process. Small victories suggest possibilities that you approach with appropriately eager anticipation, with a spring in your step.” (Active Vermont ibid)

Wherever you live, whatever you do, pause to take stock. It is time to spring clean body and soul as well as house and home. It is time to organize and tune up sports equipment, gardening tools, and recreational gear. It is time to shed winter’s stored body fat.

Remember you cannot pick up where you left off last fall. You may be fresh and eager, but you must merge mindfully with your spring training. Accelerate yes, but only when you are warmed up, strong and fleet enough to do so. A pre-season injury is maximum disappointment. Bit by bit increase the intensity, add the pop and fizzle, and put a spring in your step that will become a force to reckon with as it develops over the season and gives you a summer of satisfying play, sport, competition and recreation.

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

Challenge yourself. Go ahead. Do it. A challenge is, in part, a call to perform. Often proof is demanded. A challenge may be a “summons to engage in any contest, as of skill, strength, etc that by its nature or character serves as a call to battle, contest, special effort…” (dictionary.reference.com)

Challenge is subjective. A challenge to one person is not so to another. Furthermore, a challenge must be accepted in order to be proven. We must choose to put ourselves out there, to identify a goal, to reach for something that tests us.

Challenge involves commitment, fear, effort, doubt, discomfort, fatigue, hunger. Somewhere along the road to achievement, we may meet negativity, but we are just as likely to be spiked by enthusiasm. Small victories become meaningful pieces of a very large pie. Reaching expands.

Whatever our fitness level, athletic experience, age or professional demands, if we want to, we can articulate an achievable goal and then take the necessary steps to reach it.

My friend Jeb Wallace-Brodeur just completed all 48 Winter 4000-footers in New Hampshire. He met his final challenge skinning up Mt. Garfield and skiing down on what he characterized as a wild ride.

This is huge. It takes a seasoned athlete to be able to summit this goal, but Jeb is also a professional photographer and a family man. (Photo by Jeb Wallace-Brodeur)

Everyday people do amazing things every day. While I don’t advocate doing what Cheryl Strayed described in her popular book, “Wild,” (alone for over 1,000 miles on the Pacific Coast Trail with “no experience or training”) I do suggest that each of us has within us the skills and strengths needed to accomplish a challenge that calls uniquely to us. Training and preparation, equipment and education personalize the quest.

Clare Porter is a real person with a real life. Her activity of choice is hiking. Prioritizing her opportunities to do so, she determinedly hikes literally rain or snow throughout the year. She underpins her weekly ventures outdoors with strength training and yoga. She is not a professional athlete but she enjoys embarking on trips that would daunt a lesser person. Here she is on Picacho Peak, Arizona. “The trail we took (Hunter trail) is only 3 miles,” she said, “but rated difficult. The peak is only 3374’ but the 1500’ we climbed was straight up! Gloves were a necessity with all the cables.”

We all know friends and neighbors who do remarkable things: century ride, marathon, walking tour or a local 5k. The scope of the event is irrelevant. The challenge may be real or perceived; physical, mental or emotional. Or all of the above. But a challenge will never be met unless we choose it, unless we sign on, unless we begin and continue the journey. If we do so, we will surely cross the finish line.

Today is the First Day of Spring. (This is what Spring looks like in Vermont.) Today, not tomorrow or the next day, is the day to challenge yourself; to begin, to continue and to finish.

MARCH NOTES

Spring Sledding

Mid March and the snow blowers are blowin’ while the skiers are skiin’! Though for some this week’s snowfall has been problematic, and I’m sorry, it sure has been a boon to recreational athletes. (Photo-Sledding in Hubbard Park, Montpelier. Jeb Wallace-Brodeur)

But it is, however, mid March – even in Vermont. It is time to take stock of the changing seasons. Last week we startled our systems by springing forward into daylight savings time. Just as families were returning from school break vacations, life resumed at a different time of day and now, more school closings. We know, it won’t last.

This is the time to transition. As the snow sports slowly come to an end, it is important to check through all sports equipment, make repairs, and pack gear safely – good to go next fall.

It is also the time to dig out our spring “toys” and be sure they are in working order. Cyclists, it’s time to get that spring tune up. Many bike shops (like Onion River Sports) are offering specials right now. It’s good to get this done before the cycling season bursts into action.

I am a strong proponent of professional bike fittings. These take time. Scheduling early (like now) is helpful to all concerned. Because I am located in Central Vermont, I am headed to Fit Werx for a thorough assessment and bike fit. In a future post I’ll let you know how it goes and what I learn.

While you’re at it, pull out your calendars and note events in which you’d like to participate. Now is the time to define your goals, strategize your training, and put your dreams into action.

Finally, an update on our Pedal to End Cancer event. Donations are accepted for this event through the month. At this point, we are grateful to our many contributors. We have reached 90% of our $7,500 goal! Thank you all.

Denise Palmer of Ameriprise Financial flexed her creativity muscles when she provided seed packs for schwag bags, P2EC. Great idea, don’t you think?

Pedal to End Cancer 2014

Be inspired by those facing cancer and experience the benefits of indoor cycling a whole new way as you raise funds to support the life- saving programs and services of the American Cancer Society. Cycle for the entire three hours, or form a team and take turns.
The Spinning® program at First in Fitness in Montpelier will once again host the 2014 Pedal to End Cancer. This three-hour ride gives us each an opportunity to DO something in the ageless war against an unspeakable disease that respects no one. Perhaps it is safe to say that everyone is touched by cancer – self, family, friends, neighbors. Won’t you join us either for the event (which is also tons of fun and chock full of goodies and prizes) or to support a participant, team or simply the cause? For more information, to register, or to donate, go to the Pedal to End Cancer Website. Thank you.

Space is limited – Register Today!
Pedaltoendcancer.org
1.800.227.2345

Welcome & Happy 2014!

early a.m. from studio

Welcome to www.lindafreemanfitness.com. If this is your first visit, don’t make it your last. Hopefully you and I will travel together the journey to fitness and well-being. We will share ideas and concerns, successes and doubts, goals and some of life’s small victories along the way.

Recently I read: “Last is just the slowest winner.” I really like this. Sure, it applies to athletic events – races, group practices, and just about anything that has a finish line. But it is also applicable to the quest for improved fitness, strength gains, aerobic endurance, increased flexibility, changes in body composition, better exercise and nutritional habits.

If you are reading this post, you are most likely interested in how you live your life, how you move through your days, and take ownership of your health to the best of your ability. As each of us chooses to make the most of what we’ve got – eat healthfully, exercise daily, get adequate rest and recovery, stimulate mind and body by taking on achievable challenges – each of us realizes that we are but one of many embarked on similar journeys.

This is not a race. There is no finite finish line. The boundaries of our possibilities, our potential, expand as we grow stronger and dare to dream bigger dreams, formulate greater goals and celebrate those victories along the way.

Each of us progresses at a different pace. But as long as there is progress, there is no “last.”

There is, however, a very definite starting point. Perhaps you have begun time and time again to swap out bad habits for good ones, to begin again to exercise regularly or to give up those useless foods that sabotage your daily diet. Perhaps you begin well, but end poorly. Perhaps it is time to think of wellness as a continuum, a lifestyle, a personal choice that supersedes negative suggestions to act or react in ways that impair rather than nurture.

Today, now, this very minute as you read this post, you are on your own personal road to the destination of your choosing. Of course there will be obstacles, detours, potholes, wrong turns and breakdowns. But that need not stop us. These are only deterrents, not dead ends. Each challenge we meet makes us stronger and cements our determination to finish. Each challenge met gives us history and fuels confidence. There is no “last.” We can all win in our own time.

Linda Freeman Fitness

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