I have not written in a long time....but to catch up......I did qualify for the National Senior Olympics in the 400m track and also the 50 and 100yd. freestyle. This was my goal. To qualify. I had a pipe dream and I achieved it with all the blood sweat and tears I could muster!
Just this am, my coach asked me what are my goals in the pool and on the track. "The reality is"...and she interrupted, "Don't be negative..." I repeated, "the reality is, that I will not swim a 1:07 100yds nor will I run 400m in 1:17. My goal for myself is to swim and run my best... holding my best form and going as fast as I can." I have standards for myself that I am working to achieve. These are goals that I have set for myself knowing that I will not win....and that is ok.
Winning for me is being active. It is getting off the couch. It is eating healthy and in moderation. It is loving to run. It is enjoying a swim or a cycle and YES! I am competitive. I love the challenges.....but right now it is competition within myself,....and that is totally fine! I have a lifetime to do more...and hey...I plan to live till 120 so I have another 60 years or so! LOL!
In February I ran and cycled the Powerman Duathlon. That is a run, bike run race in Arizona. It was a dirty, gritty rock and ravine laden run that a mountain goat would have been better at than me....but I ran it and I suffered it and I achieved it. What could be better? When I achieve something hard...something that may have been doubtful that I could achieve months ago and I achieve it...it is sweet success!
Just last year, I never dreamed I could run trail. For that matter, a few years ago I could not run. I could barely walk! Now I am running trail. The sky is the limit! I think a great motto is dream bigger!
I have a triathlon in the future, the Duke City and then next year a cycle trip to a sportif in Yorkshire! The sky is the limit.
Jet Li's film "Fearless" has always been one of my favorite movies. It is a story of transformation. It is a story about transforming the heart ,body, mind and soul.
When I was a practicing martial artist , I came across this film and it was a great example of martial art's highest value of "Not Fighting." There is a premise called the "warrior and scholar." The right fist is the warrior. The Left hand is the scholar and it covers the fist,,,meaning that the scholar applies thought to each potential fight to figure a way out ...so that you do not have to fight. This concept has been a foundation to my life all these years.
In practicing marital arts, when it was time to spar, I always had to check my emotions and my intent on the deck. Did I dislike this person, did I want to teach them a lesson, did I need to punch them hard, or just graze them? Was I angry after a long work day and should not be fighting on the deck?
In the film, Jet Li wants to be the best fighter. He fights and fights. He challenges every good fighter in China. His life becomes all about winning. About challenging. About having the best reputation and being adored by all. His followers manage his fights and he has adoring fans. His ego was huge and he treated people poorly. He always had to be first at any cost and he was out of touch with his emotions and had a hair trigger temper.
In the film, Jet Li suffers many horrendous atrocities He ends up just about dead. He hits bottom and has to rebuild his life slowly and steadily. The story is about how he recovered and learned about the simple things in life. Once he got back into competition , years later, he had an new perspective on competition and he had learned about himself through it.
Like Jet Li in the film, I too have learned a lot about myself through competition. In the race yesterday, for example, as the pack ran away from me at the start line, I had to ask myself if winning was the goal. It was not. What was my goal? What did I need to do at that very moment? I just needed to keep moving forward and get to the finish line. That was all. I was competing with myself this day...and that was a great enough challenge to accomplish. And I did it.
And as the Universe would have it, a competitor in my age group. came back along the inner field of the track and ran me in...telling me I was almost there...I could do it. And I did.
It is through competition that you learn about yourself and exactly what you are made of.
I met a new friend today at the track. This is our second get together as we walk and run and talk and share our lives as we work out. We are both working to get back into shape and become more slim. Both of us agree it has been and continues t o be our life long pursuit. Both of us are working to recover the health and fitness that we have lost....or working to recover the fitness that was had before a recent injury...or we are working to recover what we once were as athletes.
For me, I am recovering what was lost a long while back when I was a young teenager. It was the time for the presidents physical fitness test. We had to run a timed 400 meters once around the track. Being already chubby and certainly not training to do this o r to run at all, I did not make it around and had to walk myself in. All the kids laughed at me and made fun of me.
In my adult life now as a runner, I went through a phase saying to myself, I wish that long ago, some nice kid or the gym teacher could have walked me in and companioned me to the finish line when I took that physical fitness test long ago.For years, I could not make it once around the track. Then I realized that the adult Cece is a runner and she can now help the little girl of the past to the finish lines whenever that little one feels like giving up. After I realzed that, the track did not seems so large and I knew I could make it! I realized that I was carrying baggage in my brain about track running.
Now I know that I can recover what was lost on that track all those many years ago. I can do this by by running that 400 meters in the Sr. Olympics City games coming up on 5/12/18. This is a way, I can recover what was lost years a go. Is it the exact same thing? No, but I can prove to myself that I can do it! Actually, I have already proved to myself that I can do it.
As the universe would have it, in a run last week, I was on my way back into the finish line and all of a sudden I saw my coach come running out. She companioned me in and ran me into the finish line. This fact also recovered what I had lost all those years ago,,, the desire for support and kindness. ...and PS, my coach did not know this story.
I believe that in some occasions we really need to have a "do over" of a traumatic event...so we can do it correctly this time....so that we can recover what we have lost...so that it does not prevent us from succeeding in the future.
When I was teaching school too, when a child did something very wrong...at the soonest opportunity, I gave them the chance to do the exact same thing over but correctly this time....it provided a healing element that allowed the child
to" keep moving forward" on a positive rather than negative track.
So, when you see me crying my eyes out for joy on Saturday, you will know that I have recovered the track race that the little one could not run ....oh so many years ago..
Cece/Sisi
This is Cece in her resurrection body! Perhaps in her heavenly life...if she makes it there...she will be a runner with a great physique, and a smile on!
But those of you who know Cece...know she does not run. But confession..... she has been "trotting" here and there as her trainer pushes her to exhaustion and works her heart rate past threshold! She is Chi running to the best of her ability.
But boy, was she mad today! Run a 1/4 mile, do a grueling partner bootcamp (100 and 200s of things) ...then run 5 sprints and then finish the partner bootcamp section...AND THEN run a mile!
First of all Cece is 58. Then she has been told not to run,...she has no knees left. On top of all this, it was not long ago that was was barely able to walk across the room. And FINALLY, she is a cyclist...not a runner.
And so with a huge resentment, she began to run her mile. Everyone passed her. Even those walking ...passed her as she trotted along. Thankfully she had "Uptown Funk" in her ears and busted a move here and there to make it more fun!
And so it is, with her trainer, Cece always needs to watch what she prays for. In her runners coma, she recalled telling him that she needed to be able to maintain her heart rate over 154 for 45 minutes. In her first half mile, after all the above was accomplished, her heart rate was 140-150..in .her second half mile her heart rate was 160-178. She thinks it's a pretty good guess she met her goal!
If she had not been in a coma, she would know how long it took her to run that mile...it wasn't 45 minutes...not even close....but it was well on the way to much better cardio endurance...inch by inch.
Thanks to Cristen for running the back 1/2 mile with Cece!
It has become a tradition that Cece attends the time trials to support her friend and cycle buddy Stephanie. This year was no different.
It was a beautiful day, Steph felt strong and Cece had music in her ears as she waited for Stephanie to come across the finish line.
Cece had climbed her personal sufferfest that morning...the infamous Tramway hill....repeating her personal mantra, "Its me, my bike and the road. " She had greeted the cows on 313 and thought of Ellie the Shark and her run ins with cows on her bike! She had even laughed...but that was before she started climbing!
After all this, she had hurried home and changed and sped out to the time trial. She missed her friend take off by 3 minutes.
But there are joys to waiting and watching! Like seeing friends and seeing the bike porn...the beautiful bikes that the racers ride....the wheels...the helmets...men in skin suits!
Stephanie sent Cece the time trial results and Cece started calculating. The overall winner rode the 12.7 mile course with an average speed of 30 mph! For Cece who is just back on her bike after a long achilles injury, that is just remarkable!
And then there was that mustache! Years ago, Cece read the"Cat Who" murder mysteries by Lillian Jackson Braun. The detective in the book had a mustache that turned heads wherever he went. It was described as "luxurious." Cece always wondered what a luxurious mustache looked liked...until the time trial...where she spotted that mustache!
She tried and tried to take a pic but the man on the other end of that mustache.....was too quick and was always on the move! Finally Cece chased him down after his race and got that pic!
Gabe Aragon
He was very gracious and allowed the pic and they had a nice chat. He joked that if he became famous from this blog that he would split the money with Cece...well unless he gets a modelling contract from this...but you never know!
It was a fun day in the sun, not a cloud in the sky on the high mesa! What could be better?
Well , if you can imagine the friends then hoofed it up to the International Folk Art Festival in Santa Fe.... where they started to feel their quads screaming every set of stairs or ramps they had to walk up! LOL.
It looks so blissful doesn't it? It was the beginning of my sufferfest of hill repeats on 4.6% grades. The only good things about it was that when people see a big girl on the bike that is working hard, uphill, they have to be supportive! "You go girl!" "You're awesome!" "You're working hard!" It really helped me keep my drive to do hill repeats during this suffer-o-rama!
In the midst of the repeats were flying downhills that were tremendously enjoyable!
After I finished, I decided that I would do what I most love...go on a surprise adventure on the bike...to explore! So, I set off on the road to who knew where.
After a mile or two I saw a sign for an air park. Was that a hidden airport? There was another hill to climb in to get to it...not too bad..so in I went. And then I saw this sign.
This is an air park that has been around since 1955 so that people can fly radio controlled , gas or electric powered airplanes that they have made. At the air park, I met Charlie and Robert who were happy to talk about the their planes and how they flew them.
Charlie told me that as a kid, he loved to make model plastic car kits that he put together with glue. Then he moved on to model airplanes . He followed the directions and made the models. He did the same thing with his plane only on a larger scale.
Charlie and his plane
At the Air Park, they fly their planes 7 days a week. They have a covered "picnic" area to keep out of the heat and they can eat their lunches and have coffee too! They can fly for 20 minutes at a time (their rule) and they wait their turn although I was told sometimes several people fly at once on busy days.
When I arrived, Robert was flying his plane. I watched it taxi down the runway and take off....then I watched it climb high and do a loop de loop then fly down straight into a dive!
This is Robert
I asked Robert if he ever had been a pilot and he said no, that he just enjoys flying this plane. I asked if any women flew planes and he said there was one, but mostly only the men do it...he said,"....because men need their alone time and their own hobbies. Of course women CAN fly, but they just don't."
The men were very patient with all my questions about the gas they use and how much. Charlie's plane hold 12 ounces of gas and he used about 2 ounces per flight. He likes to keep his tank filled and doesn't want to risk a crash. He says it takes a lot of concentration to fly.
Robert showed me his radio control system and it was quite complex....this one is the landing gear, this one is the computer screen....and he went on and on over my head! Here is a photo of Robert's control box.
Radio Control System
Up, up up!
What a fun experience learning about something I knew nothing about that gives many people pleasure! What a fun day out and about! I discovered, on my way out, that there were two other sections to the air park....one for smaller "toy" remote controlled planes and one for larger radio controlled helicopters.
You can bring your lunch and go sit in the shade and watch the planes go up and do their tricks...something different that I did not even know was available in ABQ.
After yesterday's sufferfest, I took a leisurely ride to Tingley Beach. It was a happy 18+ miles at a relaxed and social pace.
I really enjoy saying, "Good Morning" to people and chit chatting along the way. It seems to go a long way these days and I invariably get a smile or a hello in return!
It was was of those rides I did not plan in advance ...I just kept pedaling and I ended up playing cat and mouse with a man who could not decide if he really wanted to pass me...because when he did, he could not keep up the pace.
It is so nice now that you can ride effortlessly into the beach now. In the past you had to venture across a rough terrain and I would usually just get off the bike and walk it in. Now you can just keep riding! What a pleasure. I rode over to the men fishing and asked if they were catching any fish? It brought me back to my childhood walking on t he beach with my dad...and talking to all the men fishing on the Long Island Sound...casting out and reeling in...the memories.....
This man in the photo above was feeding that duck crackers and the duck kept biting his fingers....he kept say "ouch! ouch!" He reported that now that the city is asking people not to feed the ducks bread, that he switched to crackers....thus the duck biting his fingers. We discussed the city's request to feed the ducks carrot shavings, oats, fruits and veggies and the man dismissed that by saying that he always fed the ducks bread...so now he switched to crackers...go figure!
Golden Trout
No one seemed to be catching any fish this morning...one man said that the other day, he packed up and went to Pecos and he caught several fish there and had a great supper that night!
Well, I am eating fish this week...but they are from the fish store! This is the golden trout I prepared for dinner! Yummy!
I remembered why it took me so long to remember where the Hidden Trail was...it was a trail that made me suffer and I had put it out of my mind.....but I digress.
After two days of trying to locate this ride, I finally did after spending way too much gas doing so. And I discovered, to my initial dismay, that the trail was closed.
As I tried to drive in I saw a cyclist ride in and thought I would do that too! So back I went a mile or so away to see if I could park at the Boca Negra Dam. I saw a car parked on the side of the road and did not see any places to park...so I did the same....but I was not comfortable doing so. Suddenly I saw a cop and flagged him down and asked if there was an alternative place to park. He got out of his squad car and stood next to me and all I did was look up! That man must have been 6 for 7! He agreed that the place I parked was not ideal and suggested I pull to the curb in the neighborhood up the road a bit.
As I packed up my bike and gear, he came back around and pulled a U Turn and told me that he thought I could drive in......even tho we both saw cement pylons blocking the way in. So drive in I did and sure enough... way down at the bottom of the dam was a black volcano rocked parking lot!
Off I went and took a ride around the damn...then went onto the highway to get to the Hidden Trail. The barricades were still up so I went though them like only a walker or cyclist could...crossed the parking lot only to find the path was closed with yellow hazard tape. It looked like the path was closed because they had just resurfaced the road. No worries. The paving was dry and off I went!
And this began my uphill odyssey! Oh! The memories came flooding back. As I rode up, up up I thought ...this is good practice for the Chile Harvest Triathlon! Along the way I dealt with 3 and 4% grades that you climbed to and then flattened out...climbed to and then flattened out. But up, up , up I went.
A man flagged me down to tell me there was an angry badger up ahead on the right. I was in the middle of another climb that was getting steeper by the minute. I looked up and told the man, "Well maybe that will prevent me from doing this climb!" I waited a few moments to catch my breath and up I went.
This is how the whole ride went until I decided I had had enough...Obviously my map was wrong about the mileage because I had already ridden more than the map said...so I turned around and rode back.
The rollers going out turned into short steep climbs back down and this turned out to be equally hard, if not more so, than the climb up. This is when the cursing and the talking out loud began. I was so glad I was on the high Mesa with only mean badgers around me!
First day climbing and all I could think of is how much more hard work I have to do!
Finally I got to the top of the initial climb and this became the best part of the ride...flying down hill! Oh how I enjoyed that vs the misery I had endured...have I mentioned I do not like to climb? The wind in my face was a wonderful diversion from the suffering of the climbing and I was thankful for this part of the ride.
Going back to my car, I had to be in traffic, cross highways, stop at red lights and cross over several lanes of highway to make a left turn....so the ride ended up having all the elements of a great and challenging day on the bike...where it was me, my bike and the road!
Over the past week and a half I have been very emotional in regards to the shootings in South Carolina. I was trying to make sense of something that did not make sense. Then, the fact that the shooting happened in a church was like putting more acid on an open wound. I talked and talked and cried and cried about it....and then I heard that the President would eulogize the Reverend that was shot. I wondered if he would play it safe or if he would let loose at last. Well, I thought that maybe it was finally the right time for the President to speak from his heart about racism in America. I was hoping he would and I stayed home from work in that hope...and he did just that!
The moment occurred at the funeral of the Rev. Clementa Pinckney pastor of the AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina as he gave the eulogy. Here is a video of the full speech with its text to follow.
OBAMA: Giving all praise and honor to God.
(APPLAUSE)
The Bible calls us to hope, to persevere and have faith in things not
seen. They were still living by faith when they died, the scripture
tells us.
(APPLAUSE)
They did not receive the things
promised. They only saw them and welcomed them from a distance,
admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.
We
are here today to remember a man of God who lived by faith, a man who
believed in things not seen, a man who believed there were better days
ahead off in the distance, a man of service, who persevered knowing
full-well he would not receive all those things he was promised, because
he believed his efforts would deliver a better life for those who
followed, to Jennifer, his beloved wife, Eliana and Malana, his
beautiful, wonderful daughters, to the Mother Emanuel family and the
people of Charleston, the people of South Carolina.
I cannot
claim to have had the good fortune to know Reverend Pinckney well, but I
did have the pleasure of knowing him and meeting him here in South
Carolina back when we were both a little bit younger…
(LAUGHTER)
… back when I didn’t have visible gray hair.
(LAUGHTER)
The
first thing I noticed was his graciousness, his smile, his reassuring
baritone, his deceptive sense of humor, all qualities that helped him
wear so effortlessly a heavy burden of expectation.
Friends of
his remarked this week that when Clementa Pinckney entered a room, it
was like the future arrived, that even from a young age, folks knew he
was special, anointed. He was the progeny of a long line of the
faithful, a family of preachers who spread God’s words, a family of
protesters who so changed to expand voting rights and desegregate the
South.
Clem heard their instruction, and he did not forsake their
teaching. He was in the pulpit by 13, pastor by 18, public servant by
23. He did not exhibit any of the cockiness of youth nor youth’s
insecurities. Instead, he set an example worthy of his position, wise
beyond his years in his speech, in his conduct, in his love, faith and
purity.
As
a senator, he represented a sprawling swathe of low country, a place
that has long been one of the most neglected in America, a place still
racked by poverty and inadequate schools, a place where children can
still go hungry and the sick can go without treatment — a place that
needed somebody like Clem.
(APPLAUSE) His position in the
minority party meant the odds of winning more resources for his
constituents were often long. His calls for greater equity were
too-often unheeded. The votes he cast were sometimes lonely.
But
he never gave up. He stayed true to his convictions. He would not grow
discouraged. After a full day at the Capitol, he’d climb into his car
and head to the church to draw sustenance from his family, from his
ministry, from the community that loved and needed him. There, he would
fortify his faith and imagine what might be.
Reverend Pinckney
embodied a politics that was neither mean nor small. He conducted
himself quietly and kindly and diligently. He encouraged progress not by
pushing his ideas alone but by seeking out your ideas, partnering with
you to make things happen. He was full of empathy and fellow feeling,
able to walk in somebody else’s shoes and see through their eyes.
No
wonder one of his Senate colleagues remembered Senator Pinckney as “the
most gentle of the 46 of us, the best of the 46 of us.”
Clem was
often asked why he chose to be a pastor and a public servant. But the
person who asked probably didn’t know the history of AME Church.
(APPLAUSE) As
our brothers and sisters in the AME Church, we don’t make those
distinctions. “Our calling,” Clem once said, “is not just within the
walls of the congregation but the life and community in which our
congregation resides.”
(APPLAUSE)
He embodied the idea
that our Christian faith demands deeds and not just words, that the
sweet hour of prayer actually lasts the whole week long, that to put our
faith in action is more than just individual salvation, it’s about our
collective salvation, that to feed the hungry, clothe the naked and
house the homeless is not just a call for isolated charity but the
imperative of a just society.
What
a good man. Sometimes I think that’s the best thing to hope for when
you’re eulogized, after all the words and recitations and resumes are
read, to just say somebody was a good man.
(APPLAUSE)
You don’t have to be of high distinction to be a good man.
Preacher
by 13, pastor by 18, public servant by 23. What a life Clementa
Pinckney lived. What an example he set. What a model for his faith.
And
then to lose him at 41, slain in his sanctuary with eight wonderful
members of his flock, each at different stages in life but bound
together by a common commitment to God — Cynthia Hurd, Susie Jackson,
Ethel Lance, DePayne Middleton Doctor, Tywanza Sanders, Daniel L.
Simmons, Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, Myra Thompson.
Good people. Decent people. God-fearing people.
(APPLAUSE)
People so full of life and so full of kindness, people who ran the race, who persevered, people of great faith.
To the families of the fallen, the nation shares in your grief.
Our pain cuts that much deeper because it happened in a church.
The church is and always has been the center of African American life…
(APPLAUSE)
… a place to call our own in a too-often hostile world, a sanctuary from so many hardships.
Over
the course of centuries, black churches served as hush harbors, where
slaves could worship in safety, praise houses, where their free
descendants could gather and shout “Hallelujah…”
(APPLAUSE)
… rest stops for the weary along the Underground Railroad, bunkers for the foot soldiers of the civil-rights movement.
They
have been and continue to community centers, where we organize for jobs
and justice, places of scholarship and network, places where children
are loved and fed and kept out of harms way and told that they are
beautiful and smart and taught that they matter.
(APPLAUSE)
That’s
what happens in church. That’s what the black church means — our
beating heart, the place where our dignity as a people in inviolate.
There’s no better example of this tradition than Mother Emanuel, a church…
(APPLAUSE)
…
a church built by blacks seeking liberty, burned to the ground because
its founders sought to end slavery only to rise up again, a phoenix from
these ashes. (APPLAUSE)
When
there were laws banning all-black church gatherers, services happened
here anyway in defiance of unjust laws. When there was a righteous
movement to dismantle Jim Crow, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. preached
from its pulpit, and marches began from its steps. A sacred
place, this church, not just for blacks, not just for Christians but for
every American who cares about the steady expansion… (APPLAUSE) … of human rights and human dignity in this country, a foundation stone for liberty and justice for all. That’s what the church meant.
(APPLAUSE)
We
do not know whether the killer of Reverend Pinckney and eight others
knew all of this history, but he surely sensed the meaning of his
violent act. It was an act that drew on a long history of bombs and
arson and shots fired at churches, not random but as a means of control,
a way to terrorize and oppress…
(APPLAUSE)
… an act that
he imagined would incite fear and recrimination, violence and suspicion,
an act that he presumed would deepen divisions that trace back to our
nation’s original sin.
Oh, but God works in mysterious ways.
(APPLAUSE)
God has different ideas.
(APPLAUSE)
He didn’t know he was being used by God.
(APPLAUSE) Blinded
by hatred, the alleged killer would not see the grace surrounding
Reverend Pinckney and that Bible study group, the light of love that
shown as they opened the church doors and invited a stranger to join in
their prayer circle. The alleged killer could have never
anticipated the way the families of the fallen would respond when they
saw him in court in the midst of unspeakable grief, with words of
forgiveness. He couldn’t imagine that. (APPLAUSE) The
alleged killer could not imagine how the city of Charleston under the
good and wise leadership of Mayor Riley, how the state of South
Carolina, how the United States of America would respond not merely with
revulsion at his evil acts, but with (inaudible) generosity. And more
importantly, with a thoughtful introspection and self-examination that
we so rarely see in public life. Blinded by hatred, he failed to
comprehend what Reverend Pinckney so well understood — the power of
God’s grace.
(APPLAUSE)
This whole week, I’ve been reflecting on this idea of grace.
(APPLAUSE)
The
grace of the families who lost loved ones; the grace that Reverend
Pinckney would preach about in his sermons; the grace described in one
of my favorite hymnals, the one we all know — Amazing Grace.
(APPLAUSE)
How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
(APPLAUSE)
I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind but now I see.
(APPLAUSE)
According
to the Christian tradition, grace is not earned. Grace is not merited.
It’s not something we deserve. Rather, grace is the free and benevolent
favor of God.
(APPLAUSE)
As manifested in the salvation of
sinners and the bestowal of blessings. Grace — as a nation out of this
terrible tragedy, God has visited grace upon us for he has allowed us to
see where we’ve been blind.
(APPLAUSE)
He’s given us the
chance where we’ve been lost to find out best selves. We may not have
earned this grace with our rancor and complacency and short-sightedness
and fear of each other, but we got it all the same. He gave it to us
anyway. He’s once more given us grace.
But it is up to us now to make the most of it, to receive it with gratitude and to prove ourselves worthy of this gift.
For too long, we were blind to the pain that the Confederate Flag stirred into many of our citizens.
(APPLAUSE)
It’s
true a flag did not cause these murders. But as people from all walks
of life, Republicans and Democrats, now acknowledge, including Governor
Haley, whose recent eloquence on the subject is worthy of praise…
(APPLAUSE)
… as we all have to acknowledge, the flag has always represented more than just ancestral pride.
(APPLAUSE)
For many, black and white, that flag was a reminder of systemic oppression…
(APPLAUSE)
… and racial subjugation.
(APPLAUSE)
We see that now.
Removing
the flag from this state’s capital would not be an act of political
correctness. It would not an insult to the valor of Confederate
soldiers. It would simply be acknowledgement that the cause for which
they fought, the cause of slavery, was wrong.
(APPLAUSE)
The imposition of Jim Crow after the Civil War, the resistance to civil rights for all people was wrong.
(APPLAUSE)
It would be one step in an honest accounting of America’s history, a modest but meaningful balm for so many unhealed wounds.
It
would be an expression of the amazing changes that have transformed
this state and this country for the better because of the work of so
many people of goodwill, people of all races, striving to form a more
perfect union.
By taking down that flag, we express adds grace God’s grace.
(APPLAUSE)
But I don’t think God wants us to stop there.
(APPLAUSE) For too long, we’ve been blind to be way past injustices continue to shape the present.
(APPLAUSE)
Perhaps
we see that now. Perhaps this tragedy causes us to ask some tough
questions about how we can permit so many of our children to languish in
poverty…
(APPLAUSE)
… or attend dilapidated schools or grow up without prospects for a job or for a career. Perhaps it causes us to examine what we’re doing to cause some of our children to hate.
(APPLAUSE)
Perhaps
it softens hearts towards those lost young men, tens and tens of
thousands caught up in the criminal-justice system and lead us to make
sure that that system’s not infected with bias.
(APPLAUSE)
… that we embrace changes in how we train and equip our police so that the bonds of trust between law enforcement…
(APPLAUSE)
… and the communities they serve make us all safer and more secure.
(APPLAUSE) Maybe
we now realize the way a racial bias can infect us even when we don’t
realize it so that we’re guarding against not just racial slurs but
we’re also guarding against the subtle impulse to call Johnny back for a
job interview but not Jamal… (APPLAUSE) … so that we search our hearts when we consider laws to make it harder for some of our fellow citizens to vote… (APPLAUSE) … by recognizing our common humanity, by treating every child as important, regardless of the color of their skin… (APPLAUSE) …
or the station into which they were born and to do what’s necessary to
make opportunity real for every American. By doing that, we express
God’s grace. (APPLAUSE)
For too long…
(APPLAUSE)
For too long, we’ve been blind to the unique mayhem that gun violence inflicts upon this nation.
(APPLAUSE)
Sporadically,
our eyes are open when eight of our brothers and sisters are cut down
in a church basement, 12 in a movie theater, 26 in an elementary school.
But I hope we also see the 30 precious lives cut short by gun violence
in this country every single day…
(APPLAUSE)
… the
countless more whose lives are forever changed, the survivors crippled,
the children traumatized and fearful every day as they walk to school,
the husband who will never feel his wife’s warm touch, the entire
communities whose grief overflows every time they have to watch what
happened to them happening to some other place.
The vast majority of Americans, the majority of gun owners want to do something about this. We see that now.
(APPLAUSE)
And
I’m convinced that by acknowledging the pain and loss of others, even
as we respect the traditions, ways of life that make up this beloved
country, by making the moral choice to change, we express God’s grace.
(APPLAUSE)
We don’t earn grace. We’re all sinners. We don’t deserve it.
(APPLAUSE)
But God gives it to us anyway.
(APPLAUSE)
And we choose how to receive it. It’s our decision how to honor it.
None
of us can or should expect a transformation in race relations
overnight. Every time something like this happens, somebody says, “We
have to have a conversation about race.” We talk a lot about race.
(APPLAUSE)
There’s no shortcut. We don’t need more talk.
(APPLAUSE)
None of us should believe that a handful of gun safety measures will prevent every tragedy.
It
will not. People of good will will continue to debate the merits of
various policies as our democracy requires — the big, raucous place,
America is. And there are good people on both sides of these debates.
Whatever
solutions we find will necessarily be incomplete. But it would be a
betrayal of everything Reverend Pinckney stood for, I believe, if we
allow ourselves to slip into a comfortable silence again. (APPLAUSE) Once
the eulogies have been delivered, once the TV cameras move on, to go
back to business as usual. That’s what we so often do to avoid
uncomfortable truths about the prejudice that still infects our society. (APPLAUSE) To
settle for symbolic gestures without following up with the hard work of
more lasting change, that’s how we lose our way again. It would be a
refutation of the forgiveness expressed by those families if we merely
slipped into old habits whereby those who disagree with us are not
merely wrong, but bad; where we shout instead of listen; where we
barricade ourselves behind preconceived notions or well-practiced
cynicism.
Reverend Pinckney once said, “Across the south, we have
a deep appreciation of history. We haven’t always had a deep
appreciation of each other’s history.”
(APPLAUSE) Clem understood that justice
grows out of recognition of ourselves in each other; that my liberty
depends
What is
true in the south is true for America.on you being free, too.
(APPLAUSE)
That — that
history can’t be a sword to justify injustice or a shield against
progress. It must be a manual for how to avoid repeating the mistakes of
the past, how to break the cycle, a roadway toward a better world. He
knew that the path of grace involves an open mind. But more importantly,
an open heart. That’s what I felt this week — an open heart.
That more than any particular policy or analysis is what’s called upon
right now, I think. It’s what a friend of mine, the writer Marilyn
Robinson, calls “that reservoir of goodness beyond and of another kind,
that we are able to do each other in the ordinary cause of things.” That reservoir of goodness. If we can find that grace, anything is possible. (APPLAUSE) If we can tap that grace, everything can change. Amazing grace, amazing grace.
Amazing grace…
(SINGING)
(APPLAUSE)
… how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, but now, I see.
(APPLAUSE)
Clementa Pinckney found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
… Cynthia Hurd found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
… Susie Jackson found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
… Ethel Lance found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
… DePayne Middleton Doctor found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
… Tywanza Sanders found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
… Daniel L. Simmons, Sr. found that grace…
(APPLAUSE) … Sharonda Coleman-Singleton found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
… Myra Thompson found that grace…
(APPLAUSE)
…
through the example of their lives. They’ve now passed it onto us. May
we find ourselves worthy of that precious and extraordinary gift as long
as our lives endure.
May grace now lead them home. May God continue to shed His Grace on the United States of America.
(APPLAUSE)
You never know what type of adventure you might find yourself on when you get on your bike without an agenda. The freedom to explore is priceless!
As I cycled, I thought, well it's too early yet, but I might just try to see where theBike in Coffee place is that I had heard of.
I followed the signs and there it was...and although I was an hour early, if looked like it was open. I got off my bike, walked myself in and began to see corrals and horses. I greeted the horses good morning and gave one a petting on his beautiful face!
Soon, I met Lanny Tonning and Linda Thorne, the owners of Bike In Coffee! What a friendly, happy and welcoming couple!
I discovered that their "coffee truck" had been a vegan food truck that they had purchased ...but they had no idea how to run it. Along came some cyclists who were adventuring from Alaska and who had run a food truck there. Lanny and Linda put them up in the guest house and the newcomers ran the truck and taught Lanny and Linda how to operate a food truck ! Thus the idea of Bike in Coffee was born.
Lanny said he had no idea it would be as popular as it has become serving 120-200 cyclists per weekend. They are open from 8am-2pm on both Saturday and Sunday. They have super clean and spacious restrooms for all to use.
The Bike In fare is fresh farm to table. They keep their menu simple with one savory entree , one sweet entree , one soup and one salad each weekend day. They change the menu up depending on what is ready in their organic garden. They serve coffee and drinks. They also serve their signature "skookie" which is a combination cookie and scone and is a cyclist's favorite!
On this particular day, they were hosting a Ted talk. Ted sponsors what they call " Ted X" which are adventures that are based on the talks but are hands on adventures in the field. So this morning Ted X ABQ was coming on site with 10+ cyclists to learn about how to do farm to table Asian vegetables grown on the farm. The chef Lu Xiang Ru (lulu) was making dough for a vegetarian quesedilla. Then she was going to put into it Asian veggies that are a specialty of the Old Town Farm (where bike in Coffee is located)
Lanny is an advocate for bike in zoning. Why not have bike in yoga or bike in flower shops? Roads are built for commerce he says and it would lower the carbon footprint if more people biked in to get their services.
The farm is organic but they are not certified yet. Anyone can either bike in or drive in and purchase vegetables.
On top of all this exciting information, I discovered that the chef is also a weaver. She is in town from China for a big exhibit and lecture by her mentors Lin LeChang and Nancy Kozikowski.
The Lecture is on Friday June 26 at 3pm at the Albuquerque Museum Auditorium. At 5pm there will be a showing of the weavings and a reception at DSG Fine Art 510 14th street ABQ. phone is 505-463-3080.
When you are out and about on your bike and riding without an agenda, you can be open to discovering and getting off the beaten path. Only then can you discover things you would never have encountered before.
Bike In Coffee can be reached by bike or by car. To get there by bike, at the I-40 overpass on the Bosque go east. You will see the sign. Follow it and keep your eyes open.
By bike or car you can also get there in the following ways:
By bike on the Bosque go south on the trails until you reach the sign for Mountain Ave. Turn left onto Mountain. Go east on Mountain until you come to Montoya Road on the left. Follow that around a bit and on you left you will see the sign for Old Town Farm...pedalers welcome ...and a picture of a bike. Turn left and drive on in.
By car, Come west on Mountain Ave. Turn right on Montoya. Follow above directions.
Bike in Coffee is open Saturdays and Sundays from 8am until 2pm.
So my trainer does not panic , this is not MY meatloaf!
So, I planned on riding 21+ miles today and was looking forward to it. I took Saturday as a day to cook and clean and get my house and laundry in order for the week. I wanted to cook a big turkey meatloaf and took the opportunity to do so. But I had not done my weekly grocery shopping and told myself I could do it Sunday really early before my ride. I had planned to have wheels down by 6:30 am.
The alarm went off by 4am...I got up turned on all the lights...did a lap around my house and then turned all the lights off again and went back to sleep. I reset the alarm at 6am saying to my self "What's the hurry? It's Sunday...you have nothing else planned?" Of course I forgot about the grocery shopping and the fact I had no food in my house.'
Alarm rings again. This time I get up...look at my watch and say that I better hurry up and eat breakfast so that I am not riding on a full stomach...allow the food to digest.
And you guessed it, I looked in the refig and there was one lonely meatloaf! Well, needless to say a slice became breakfast.
Then I needed to wait to digest the meatloaf..... now mind you, I am not accustomed to eating meatloaf for breakfast never mind before a ride...and that darn meatloaf was heavy in my stomach. So I waited.
I waited and waited and called my dad....then called my sister.... and soon it was 11:30 and I was hungry. I looked in the refig and saw some walnuts. OK. Protein and fat. That would do it.
By 12 noon I was out on the road. It was hot. The meatloaf and nuts were not sitting too well.....and did I mention it was HOT?
I rode and rode and made it to Tingley beach. Watched the paddle boats and discovered another cyclist sitting at the waters edge. I walked over and met Theresa Kester.
She was enjoying the beautiful day and we watched the ducks and fish and talked a bit. Then off I went!
I had forgotten that once you go south from Tingley the weather can change in a heart beat. I began to hear thunder and felt some sprinkles of rain. The rain was welcome on my beginning to get over heated body.
See.... I had not planned to ride at the height of the day. I had not planned on the heat and I had not eaten the right food.
So coming back to complete the 21+ I suffered, I was overheating. I had only warm water and I felt on the verge of bonking. Also the wind was picking up and I had to fight that along with the pollen and "snow" from the cottonwoods and dust that was blowing and pushing my bike.
I stopped and had a gel. I stopped again when I found shade.I determined that I would beat the storm and that I did. I made it back with little incident.
Getting back in the swing of things...I need to better remember my routines...like how I always carried a cooler with two cold bottles in my car for after the ride....how I knew what to eat pre ride and always planned ahead...not flew by the seat of my pants...and I always tried to avoid the hottest parts of the day.
I'm still on a high learning and remembering curve...but I'm happy and thrilled to be back on my bike once
Last week, I was given this song....more like an anthem...a theme song.....and since then this song has been under my skin. It is in my head, it is in my mind when I turn over while I am sleeping...it is there when I do not know it is there...only for me to discover it there and wonder "how did this song get under my skin like this?"
So, in turn I am giving this song to you.
Do not listen to this song and say "I'm not gangsta" Do not listen to it and say, "I've never been to prison." Do not listen to it and say, "I don't have tats." Do not listen to it and say "I have no Higher Power." Do not listen to it and say, " I hate Rap."
Listen to it and ask yourself the question, "What is MY prison? What is the prison that I live in?" Maybe it's the prison of low self-esteem...the prison of a bad relationship,the prison of giving yourself away to others and having no time for yourself....or maybe it's the prison of poverty or hunger.... the prison of alcoholism or drug addiction...or perhaps it is the prison of always playing it safe and never taking a risk...or perhaps it is the prison of people pleasing....or perhaps the prison is mental illness..or an eating disorder...or... or..... or...... ask yourself..."What is my prison?"
Then listen to the words. .......Listen to the music....
The town of Algodones was the host of the All Women's Time Trial sponsored by the Spokettes. In all, 89 women raced with ages from 9 -60 +years old.
In a time trial you race against yourself to get the fastest time possible along a given route. This route was 10 miles long and included rollers, a hill on the back side and I heard, some devilish head winds. The women came in all shapes and sizes. Their bikes did to...from bikes with disk back wheels to one with tassels on the handle bards, a bell and a basket (that was the 9 year old's bike). Some women warmed up on trainers and some warmed up along the route.
We all laughed when we used the port a pottys. Only at a women's event would you see this!
At a women's event you can be sure to make friends. Stephanie and I met a woman from Norway. Her name was Sissel Trondseth. Here she is with Stephanie. Last I heard they were planning a triathlon in Norway and Stephanie made another note on her bucket list! I am sure that Sissel did well! She was on a very new bike and s aid she really liked how it rode.
And also we met Sandy Knudson. She was recovering from a surgery and had not been competitive in a while. She gave me lots of hope as I saw her zoom across the finish line with her aero wheel whizzing! AND she had a very fast time. She got her mojo back for sure!
Sandy warming u p!
Stephanie was very pleased with her race! Congrats!
And finally here is what a 60 year old Masters cyclist racer looks like! This is Olga Sanchez (number 546)! I could only get the back side or her...but her time was among the fastest racers in all age groups! I want to grow and and be Olga! I better hurry up and recover! It will only be a few years before I am back in Olga's category again!
It was a very fun day with beautiful weather and lots of happy women on their bikes. What could be better?
When Dianna Nyad got out of the ocean after her successful swim from Cuba to Key West, on her 5th attempt, she said the following: " I have three messages. One is we should never, ever give up. Two is you never are too old to chase your dreams. Three is it looks like a solitary sport, but it takes a team." I look at this message every day. It is taped to my computer monitor screen,
And so it was that I took a half a day off so I could ride my bike outdoors. But I was so sore from yesterday's work out that I dared not press my luck. I determined to ride indoors with Troy Jacobson. Many of you know he is my virtual boyfriend.......
......but you would never know it by my yelling at him this morning as I did his Warrior Training DVD. More and more long tough intervals pushing the hard gears for 20 minutes at a time. URGH! I usually have the sound of hip hop or dance music in my ears...and all of a sudden he said motioned, UP, UP" ( I heard this in another way yesterday...thus my poor sore body) and before I knew it, I was standing up cycling! This happened over the course of several difficult intervals toward the end of the work out. And I was able to stand and cycle! My ankle could take it...I was strong enough! It wasn't pretty...but it was successful...., my mind started to review my last few years journey....and I started sobbing and sobbing...
All the hard work is paying off. My body is remembering what to do. It just remembers.
And it has taken a team.
And today, with your help , I was a warrior...
Thank you Char, Brian, Stephanie and the wonderful physical therapists at Pres in Rio Rancho! I am very grateful for all your help and support!
Cece
Saturday, November 29, 2014
The Tortoise and the Hare
Yesterday when I turned the TV on, every channel had football. So, I turned to PBS thinking I would get an alternative...and I happened upon a children's program that was teaching children about winning and loosing. I'm sure you know the story of the tortoise and the Hare. One was fast and the other .... VERY slow. It is logical to think that the Hare won...but it did not. The tortoise won. We know the saying "Slow and steady wins the race." Words like patience, perseverance and endurance come to mind.
As I rebuild from a long illness and weight gain, I am reminded of the above. That constant improvement takes time, tenaciousness and a stubborn willingness to keep at it day by day accepting incremental results.
I think as a culture we are used to instant results. We want a pill or a potion or a miracle to improve whatever ails us. But most often none of these happen. It takes grit and suffering endurance to make progress...no matter the goal.
Back in early September, I started working out again with Brian Boulware at Titanium Fitness.Since then we have been working hard together and I am getting some nice results. It is the blood sweat and tears that always proves results and it is hard , but very good.
Recovery from anything takes time...and I remind myself that patience is a must. And as the turtle, I walk. I love this phrase:
"You will get to your destination. But right now , the walk is everything. Every step is reminding you how to live. Every breath is a little guru."
Vegetable Juicing that is! A friend sent me for a green juice and the
next thing I new, I was gifted with a juicer. Next thing I knew I was
watching this film...tearing up as I went...and the next thing I knew I was at
the store buying Kale. Go Figure! My dad has been trying to get me
to eat kale for over a year now. I am sure my dad is happy
now!
This is a long movie so you may want to make the time to watch it when you
can relax and are not in a rush(90 minutes). Fat Sick and Nearly Dead
Stepping Beyond is a blog about stepping beyond the limits we place upon ourselves..
The logo of the bird flying free of the barrier...is a great one for me...and probably for us....to not limit ourselves by some notion in our heads or a notion that someone once put upon us....
On my bike is a little sticker. It reads:
"Surpass your own preconceived limits!"
"In Stages, the Impossible Becomes Possible" TKV Desikachar
"Above all else, do NOT quit! The universe always bows to persistence. The empowering approach is to see your physical challenges as assets, because overcoming obstacles forces you to develop discipline, determination and character. These traits will carry over to other areas of your life and make you a stronger person."
Tom Venuto, "Burn the Fat, Feed the Muscle."
"Do what you should do, when you should do it, whether you feel like it or not." Thomas Huxley
