Carpe Diem

Motivation

2012-01-29T17:28:00.000-08:00

I am a member of Cyclo Core, it is an internet based cycling club and for me is a font of information. Today there was a great podcast that spoke about many of us not fully committed to change. In this case, the change was doing the work, the drills etc necessary to become a really good cyclist.

I thought about my obstacles, my excuses and realize that all of my excuses are just that..lame and perhaps the reason I have not seen dramatic progress in this and indeed other area of my life, is that I hesitate.

1) My weight. I know all it takes to fix it, and yet at times I still sabotage. I could lose 15 lbs which would improve my cycling. Why do I keep that extra weight? What purpose does it serve, other than to reinforce my feelings that I am not up to it?

2) My fear of cracking. When I am really pumping and pushing, I will sometimes stop just short of pushing myself beyond what I think I can do. Deadly for making improvements

Biking is a good metaphor for life. I believe we keep problems alive because they serve as an excuse. "I could ride faster if I was lighter" or " I never pushed myself". Likewise in job situations, I have found excuses and not seriously tackled them.

The question I must ask myself is DO I WANT TO LIVE? Do I want to cycle or play at it, do I want to continue my work as a psychotherapist or dabble and dream.

Dabbling, and dreaming, and half training does not satisfy me and leaves me feeling anxious and waiting for 'more'. It is like a drug craving, you always want more but cannot have it. I always desire and yet at the same time and starting to realize that my very fears and excuses are what is hampering my progress,

Sort of Housetrained

2012-01-27T13:40:00.000-08:00

Three weeks ago I adopted a little dog from a puppy mill. She had been fostered and was housetrained..or so I was told.

Luna is sort of housetrained...if you live in a barn. I have read numerous books on the subject and now take her out every two hours. She is a dear little soul who truly believes that one should not stop the progress of the call of nature and when nature calls...do not delay. This unfortunately means the livingroom carpet.

Housetrained in my mind is a dog that asks to go outside. It is a dog that associates the great outdoors as a litter box. I have seen pee pads for sale. What is that all about? The idea is to get them to pee outside not on a pad in the house...still I suppose if I had one I would have been spared my pre breakfast cleaning chore!

Luna learned the "come" command in a matter of minutes and I suspect will be equally quick in all of her obedience training, she walks nicely..is polite, gentle and charming..but has no concept of inside versus outside. Patience..patience.

Why I train in the basement

2012-01-23T13:55:00.000-08:00

This is my bike on my Tacx trainer. My bike is a 30 year old Cambio Rino bike, a beauty that was used in the Montreal Olympics. It has 10 speeds with the changer on the frame. For many years it was hanging on a wall. No bike should retire like that! I knew it had life in it and bought it as my training bike where I set up a training studio of sorts.

In this space, I regularly do Cyclo Core workouts...pretty amazing and high intensity stuff with weights and yoga. I have seen my fitness level rise and for the most part my motivation is high.

I sometimes wish I had a fancy training studio that I have seen with some of my friends. One that would have room for my weights and stability ball and one where I need not worry about the hot air blasting down at me from the dryer vent...and yet there is something interesting and challenging about working out in a dungeon. It calls for the creative in me. Did you know a full gallon paint can can make a pretty decent medicine ball? Did you know that a full tool box when held overhead while doing crunches also can add intensity?

One advantage of my training dungeon, is that I have no distractions. I can't really see outside and I can't hear the telephone,...oh it rings but with the fan, the furnace, my trainer whirring I just can't hear it.

Getting older has meant that I am more realistic. Many of my friends sign up for fancy spin classes, in shiny gyms lead by people with perfect teeth and names like Scotty. They drive to them in some ungodly hours...rush in and listen to the loud music and instructions. They like having workout partners!

I did that, the gym spin thing and found that the music was too loud! I also found it stressful having to be there at a certain time. The lockers were always full and you had to rush to get changed. There was never enough room and I always worried about the cleanliness of the showers. For the spin classes it seems that the best bikes were always taken, reserved as it were by people who threw towels over them. When I arrived I always had a bike where a clip did not work that squeaked for the duration of the session. I always was beside some woman in menopause who wanted the fans turned directly on her so I endured an icy blast. My workout partners, never had much to say except grunt and pant and honestly, I never liked the music. We did not speak about technique, it was just mash and bash away.

My internet workout protocol has spin videos, I can play my own music, but often I chose not to, or listen to Graeme Street explain techniques etc. There are times when I do my own sessions, with my own music. Scotty is no where to be seen! I learn techniques, practice skills all in the comfort of my home. I never get a bad bike and there is no rush to get changed, there is always room in my shower.

The only workout partner I have is my dog Bubba. He dutifully sits at the entrance to the basement room where I am and watches me, his eyes shining. I know he thinks I am insane. He endures the whirring, the spinning, and my complaining.

My Cambio Rino has only 10 speeds and therefore I suspect I am working at harder gears. The bike is steel so can handle when I ride standing up for drills, I am not worried about it cracking. It was once a velodome bike and is now working again, this time in my training dungeon!

Where aging Olympians go!

2012-01-08T07:34:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I entered the 5k snowshoe race called the Mad Trapper series. I have never run that distance, never raced and have a passing acquaintance with snowshoes. Perfect!The Mad Trapper series is run out of Denholm near Wakefield Quebec on some 110 acres of paradise used for team building. The racers were all super fit and there were some former Olympians. This is what aging olympians do they race up mountains. Did I mention this was a hilly race? It was very inspiring to me to see people older than me with unbelievable fitness levels. All the racers were delightful people, relaxed, helpful and they were a joy to be with.

We all started wearing super little race snowshoes...up up up...my heart climbed as well as I sprinted up the hills...I found a man about my age who was having a hard time and I chatted and went with him for some distance. I wanted more of a challenge and sprinted and caught up with two young girls...paused took pictures and enjoyed the magnificent scenery. It was a race yes, but I was not competing...I was there to enjoy myself for 'comic relief' as I said.I have been doing high intensity bike training and my fitness level has never been higher. I had no problem climbing and running and while of course, the real runners and racers far outpaced me...I was very pleased that I came in at a respectable time! I had a wonderful time and loved it!This has really encouraged me to pursue my triathalon goals!

Writing..a lost art?

2011-12-25T13:03:00.000-08:00

Last week I was in Starbucks, pausing to have a latte and just relaxing with a friend. I noticed a young man beside me with a computer and a journal and an ink pen. I was delighted..he had the laptop with earphones but also had an ink pen as he wrote in his journal with flowing script.

Who knows what he was writing, poetry, reflections, perhaps his Christmas list, but it did not matter. What matters is that he was writing.

Writing is unfortunately a lost or dying art. Although there are many beautiful journals that are sold in bookstores and stationary stores, I have never seen anyone actually write in them except for this one occasion in Starbucks. What do people do with the journals they purchase? Maybe they write secretly at home, or perhaps they don't write at all, choosing instead to display their lovely leather journals over their fireplace as momentos of the lost art known as writing.

What the Doctor said...

2011-12-25T12:52:00.000-08:00

Bubba, my 15 year old dog had been limping and cutting short his walks. He would raise his right hand as if to say "call it a day!". I arranged an appointment with an orthopedic specialist for dogs.

The vet took one look and told Bubba he had great muscle tone, was in top shape and his limping was caused by a slight strain injury that aging athletes have. Bubba was thrilled! He pranced out of the examination room and resumed his walks with renewed vigour, pulling and running and generally showing the world he is indeed in top form.

His new attitude has nothing to do with medication and I am convinced it is a result of what the Doctor said....to all you medical professionals out there...choose your words carefully what you say has a direct impact on patient well being and recovery!

My own cat in the hat

2011-12-15T19:56:00.000-08:00

Three years ago, after deciding that my high tech cross country skis afforded me NO control on hills, I bought a pair of back country skis, with metal edges lots of control. Two years ago I upgraded my snowshoes (yes the rawhide type) with racing snowshoes. So I can now run on the snow and ski to my hearts content...but there is no snow.

It is December 15th...the bleak mid winter of Christmas carols..and no snow. It was 9 degrees today! I did not even wear a jacket! A little too cold to bike, not cold enough or snowy enough to ski..and too wet to run. In the book the cat in the hat, the children were faced with this dilemma as all they could do was sit sit sit and they did not like it not one little bit. The cat in the hat came to entertain them.

My cat in the hat is a cycling and fitness training program called Cyclo Club. Like the cat in the hat, Graeme Street, the creator of Cyclo Club, produces workouts that look like fun ....but....

I am following 30 minute high intensity workouts which really challenge me. The objective is to get to your maximum heart rate..push it harder..go back to the max and repeat. At the end of 30 minutes, I am done and ready for a 15 minute recovery session, which is a lot of yoga.

The cat comes back!

The French vs the English..a study part one

2011-12-06T12:51:00.000-08:00

I have had the priviledge of having my friend Marie from France stay with us for a few weeks. Her sojourn with us has highlighted what I believe are fundamental differences between the French and the English. They are as follows:

Food: For the English, food is a necessary evil. We hurry our meals and are content to grab a bite at Subways. This is demonstrated when I go cycling with an English group. With few exceptions, they seem to be content with fast food or food of marginal quality and then hurry the meal. Not so for my French cyclists. For them, I swear the meal is as important if not more important than the ride itself. There is no such thing as a hurried meal and food is savoured and enjoyed.

Now the French have developed different food groups and they are as follows:

1) Cheese. No day is complete without a healthy serving of good French cheese...on bread or on a cracker or a baguette...a Frenchman would rather lose an arm than not have cheese in their pantry. Cheese is an essential food group.

2) Bread. In the same way as cheese, bread is essential. Breakfast is a thick slice or two of bread, lots of butter and cheese.

3) Jam. This was a surprise to me. My friend, whom I will take as typical for my purposes loves jam and butter. While we anglophones may have a little jam....my French friend eats it by the jar full. So jam is a third food group.

4) Wine...French of course, but I did introduce Marie to Ripasso wines.

5) Coffee: Good, dark, strong espresso coffee. None of this watery coloured water that some people call 'coffee'. The French refer to this as sock juice!

Within these five food groups...the French can survive and indeed thrive. There is no need for fruits because that is handled by the jam. Vegetables are optional...and wine and coffee round out the rest.

Exercise
The French don't believe in daily exercise. They are content to read the paper or get involved in an animated discussion. For the French, discussion is an animated activity designed to raise the blood pressure and followed by a glass of wine. I believe that the idea of exercise and working out is very foreign to the French. While the anglophones will purchase treadmills I have yet to see a Frenchman or woman on a treadmill in the gym.

Colours

France is a country of soft greens and lovely pastoral vistas. The French however, do not reflect these colours in their dress. They wear black, grey, grey again, more grey and white. I believe that our long winters make us long for colour in Canada and unable to see flowers...we dress as such with yellows, reds and greens. The French are arch conservatives in dressing!

Exercise..a matter of perspective

2011-11-16T19:39:00.000-08:00

Today I started a 90 day high intensity training program and this mornings work out was on my bike trainer in the basement. My training room is in the basement workshop. At the moment we have a guest. She is an academic whose view of exercise is that it is a quaint idea but not terribly relevant. If she could, she would be happy to sit and read all day long and study ethics, science and ancient Egypt. When we are having meals I often feel like a barbarian as I am interested in the actual joint of meat and she wishes to discuss the ethics of the joint chiefs of staff!

Today I turned on my video for the workout and hammered away. A high intensity session means that for 40 minutes you are really pushing yourself. As such, I grunt and whine and say things like "I am dying", all the while Graeme Street the creator of the videos is on his bike demonstrating techniques and encouraging his internet audience.

Marie, our friend heard his voice and heard my pleas and jumped out of bed. She had concluded that Graeme was an ambulance attendant and that either I, or Cyril was in trouble..likely dying. She rushed upstairs to find Cyril reading the paper. 10 minutes later I crawled upstairs and she explained to me what her thinking was.

Its all a matter of perspective, because I am used to working out, if I heard such sounds, I would assume that it is a good workout but would never conclude that 911 had been called, or aliens had invaded the premises.

Exercise, a matter of perspective!

Charity Overkill

2011-10-19T18:16:00.000-07:00

It seems that there is a charity event for every conceivable cause imaginable. The argument is that there is no public money and so they have events like runs, or golf games and solicit funds over the telephone. They are not small like a local church bazaar or bake sale, many of these events are large and professionally run.

I wonder if some of these are not make work projects for those involved. Take the millions of dollars raised for breast cancer. It cost a considerable amount of money to raise that money. Recently the Weekend to End Women's Cancer, which charged its participants $1500.00 in fundraising (they had to raise that) disclosed to me that it cost them around $500.00 per person. That is outrageous..the event is cancelled for next year.

I am sure this is not atypical of charities. Where they may have started out as well meaning and the money would go to those who needed it, I think that many of them have lost their vision and are simply profit making companies with CEOS etc.

Should we support these businesses? Should they have CEOS who are paid considerable sums of money? Why can we not direct more public funds to assist those where the need is greatest? By diverting charity from the public to the private sector, are we not allowing our government to abdicate its responsibility to the poor and disenfranchised of our country?

The charities that cry the loudest for funds, appear to have plenty of money to spend on advertising, free Christmas cards, pens and stickers.

I believe that charities should return to their more humble roots and realize that they can help many more people if they divest themselves of costly administration, CEO's and cultivate a larger volunteer base. I believe the time is coming when the charities will say "Please sir I want some more" and the collective answer will be no.

Suppertime Snipers!!!

2011-10-19T18:10:00.000-07:00

As I glance at the clock, I see it is 5pm. I live in a middle class suburb but....5pm is when the suppertime snipers come out. You all know them. They start a barrage of phone calls. "You helped us once before...can you increase your donation?" " I am calling on behalf of..." "Hi, how are you can I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Benson?" "5 million people a day are dying of starvation" and on and on it goes.

At my home 5pm to 7pm seem to be the prime time for these snipers. It does not seem to matter if they are on a no call list, or if you hang up them. If you have ever had the misfortune to donate to any one of these charities..you are doomed to get these annoying phone calls for ever.

The argument goes, if they don't solicit they wont get the funds they need. Do they need the funds? In my opinion there are far too many charities...there is a charity for everything. There are more charity runs and lotteries and golf tournaments in Ottawa than anywhere else. There are so many in fact that at times the routes interfere with each other. It is charity overkill!

As for the suppertime snipers...I just put my phone off the hook and enjoy a peaceful dinner.

Since when is free speech free

2011-10-13T08:27:00.000-07:00

Margaret Wente of the Globe and Mail believes that there should be no sanctions on free speech and that we should stop trying to legislate or attempt to control it. Let everyone speak their mind!

What is missing in her article, is the notion that when you live in a society, freedom has to be tempered with responsibility. Of course you are free to think irresponsible and hurtful thoughts, but once you live in a society you must consider the effect of your speech on others.

It seems to me many people use the pretext of free speech to hurt other people and push their agenda. When is it 'hate?' When it singles out a group or a person unfairly and targets them. Hence comments like all gays are sinful, all Jews are greedy, all Moslems are terrorists can be seen as hate as they target unfairly a group of people.

If we try to target an individual in this way, our 'free speech' about them usually ends up in a defamation lawsuit and rightly so.

To target groups of individuals and say hurtful and hateful things against them claiming that it is free speech, is not only irresponsible, it is just plain wrong. Free speech is never free! Society has a responsibility to act as a watchdog for those who are vulnerable and targeted unfairly.

Voting at 43%

2011-10-11T21:02:00.001-07:00

We just had our provincial election and the voter turnout was about 43 or 44%. This is appalling. If it were a board meeting there would not be a quorum but such a low turnout is enough to elect our provincial government.

When does the process stop? What if 30% turned out, or 10%..would this be considered sufficient?

At what percentage level do we decide that the process as we understand it does not work?

I have heard it said that the 60% exercised their right not to vote. Voting is a right but it is also a privilege. The same people who decided not to vote also enjoy the benefits of living in Ontario. They collect pensions, or UI, use our hospitals, enjoy our parks and drive on our roads. How can you in good conscience enjoy the benefits without participating in the process?

At a time when many countries are struggling with democracy and many countries simply do not allow their citizens to vote, people who do not vote, whether by apathy or ignorance should be ashamed of themselves.

Charity Christmas Cards

2011-09-27T14:19:00.000-07:00

I have received some 200 Christmas cards from the various charities that I have supported in the past. Along with the notebooks, the pens and stickers these are all unsolicited and not wanted.

In fact, it is arrogant for a charity, who solicit funds by writing appeals to the heart, to turn around and waste this money by sending Christmas cards, notes and pens that nobody wants or needs.

I will send each of these charities a Christmas card, and my note will read "Since you insist on wasting my money on this card, it is clear that you no longer need my support"

Ottawa Bicycle Club Summer End Century Tour

2011-09-12T12:02:00.000-07:00

The Ottawa Bicycle Club is Ottawa's oldest bike club and is over 100 years old. It is a club that truly has something for everyone including time trials, races, tours and many speed groups.

For those of you who may be intimidated by the riding style of the OBC, don't be. Pack riding is disciplined, fun and enables you to cover greater distances and greater speeds. Our stops are shorter and we drink and eat as we ride, all of that makes for more efficient and fun rides. The OBC offers some great overnight tours as well.

One of these tours is the Summers End Century Tour, or SECT. This from Ottawa to Cornwall and back again. The ride starts at Kelseys where your bags are picked up. You start in your speed catagory and off you go, either for 100km or 100 miles. The SECT tour is one of the nicest bike tours ever and here are the reasons:

1) We ride in a peleton. This is usually a double peleton which allows you time to chat and ride at a fast clip;
2) Drafting means that I rode 100 miles in a little over 5 hours;
3) The riders are polite and very friendly;
4) The rest stops are wonderful;
4) The number of participants is not huge. We had 50 riders. You will not be swamped or lost in a crowd. Our riding groups were limited to 12;
5) The little towns that you ride through are beautiful and charming; and,
3) The overnight stop in Cornwall is great

We have an overnight stop at the Navcan centre in Cornwall. This has a wonderful little pub with Karaoke. Celine Dion, the beach boys, Sonny and Cher and possibly Elvis were all present for Karaoke night. Did you know there is a song called Cheeseburger in paradise? Neither did I. Our evening meal was beautifully served and included succulent ribs, mash, corn chowder soup, a plethora of salads, rice, peas and a table full of desserts. Our riders ordered wine with our dinner...nothing says a good 100 miles than ribs and a bottle of MASI wine.

The resort is large, comfortable and beautifully situated on the St. Lawrence seaway.

On the second day we rode back and I chose to ride 135km rather than a full 100 miles. The highlights of the stop back were a wonderful lunch in Russell complete with homemade carrot cake and other delicious salads and cookies, and the beautiful little towns on the way home. The ride ended at Kelseys which is a stones throw from my home. In short, the ideal bike tour.

Tweets and Twits

2011-09-07T19:09:00.000-07:00

I am fascinated by people's use of Twitter. They tweet everything from "I am having lunch" to some of their deeper psychological states, such as self loathing, or state of sobriety. What interests me is their staunch belief that by sharing such intimate details of their lives on a minute by minute basis with their followers that somehow they will be closer to that community.

It is an illusion of intimacy based on tweets that are typed into a telephone throughout the day. The Tweets are not merely "where are you lets meet for coffee" but expressions of angst and sometimes painful loneliness.

I think some Twitter addicts actually believe that they are maintaining and nurturing friendships in this way and that their endless prattle about what they are doing fosters intimacy. Intimacy cannot be attained by this way. Intimacy involves physical contact, of having a cup of coffee with your friend, of going to a movie with someone..of being physically present. A few clicks on a keypad and a send is a very poor substitute for real communication and presence.

I suspect that people search for intimacy in tweets and post very personal and revealing details about themselves. Do they hope that their audience will respond to them? What if you tweet and no one replies?

Twitter gives one the illusion of having friends, much like 'friends' on facebook. It allows you to share thoughts, feelings and actions with an audience that may or may not care. Real intimacy and real community cannot be maintained or nurtured in this way. To tweet in the hopes of connecting with others is to be a twit.

Riding with Children...the best way to go

2011-08-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

I have a good friend who has four children, three girls and a boy with ages from 6-13. This family enjoys biking and have found great bike trails even though they live in suburb of Ottawa with a growth rate that could rival bamboo. You go to bed and in the morning, there is a new shopping center where once there was grass!

Last week I went biking with them. It was delightful. The youngest told me all about the things they see, like ducks and deer. We did see a deer. We stopped and picked wild grapes and I told Joanna that although sour because they stained your hands red they were like blood. We enjoyed our blood berries. The deer that we saw was a handsome buck, lying in a field in the sun. When he saw us he rose and galloped into the nearby woods but not before we saw how glorious he was!

The bike path meandered through sun dappled woods and enabled us to avoid traffic. I learned all about the ipad and the new ipod from Nicole's son David. His older sister, Rachel filled in the details as we spoke about future plans, art and school.

Even Mary who normally is uninspired with matters of bicycle was inspired and I watched as she spun her pedals, weaved and wove and kept up with all of us, her bright robin's egg blue helmet glinting in the sun.

All of Nicole's children were pleased to tell me all about the bike trails and where they stop. Joanna was especially pleased to tell me that the rest stop was the Dairy Queen where there would be ice cream. We ordered the same, a chocolate dipped cone! The others ordered blizzards!

As I rode, I realized that I miss a lot when I ride. I would have missed the buck, probably not noticed the large bunches of wild grapes, have whizzed by the sun playing on the leaves. Cycling with children reminds you that in life it is not about the destination, in this case ice cream, but the real joy is getting there. I enjoyed listening and entering into their world. I learned that my 4 year old ipod is completely and hopelessly outdated. It is the electronic equivalent of a slide rule! I learned about the latest movies, what to avoid (Green Lantern) and what to rent and even purchase (Thor). I learned that 3D movies are not worth the lineups and the hype and I was reminded the kids can go to a waterpark get spun around like a dishrag and spit out of a tube and actually enjoy it.

To any who may be getting bored with the bicycle...ride with children...you will hear and see things that you would otherwise miss!

How to eat a treat!

2011-08-10T06:07:00.000-07:00

Having dogs is a great thing and I have learned so much from my dog. In particular my dog has taught me how to eat a treat. When Bubba gets a treat, he takes it to a sunny place, carefully puts it between his paws and savours each bite. He chews thoughtfully and smiles. My other dog Sophie inhales her treats! Sophie does not take the time to enjoy any of her meals.

How many of us are like Sophie? I have seen people at bakeries buy a wonderful treat, a croissant with almonds and chocolate or a lemon tart and simply stuff it into their mouths without savouring it, or appreciating the texture and taste. They eat it furtively, feeling guilty for purchasing a treat in the first place. They mutter something about diet, as it that were a prayer, and stuff in the pastry. They do not enjoy it! They eat it in a few gulps, swallow some coffee and then dash off.

Bubba is right folks. Treats are meant to be enjoyed, to be eaten in a quiet place and while you are eating think about how fortunate you are and how wonderful this experience is. If Bubba is not ready for his treat, he will hide it and take it out when he is ready. How many can do that with a triple chocolate treat?

I used the word treat rather than pastry to stress that a pastry or ice cream is indeed a treat, a gift of the bakers and of tradition to us. It is a delight to our taste buds and a pleasure. We do it an injustice if we merely stuff and run!

Bon Ton Roulet 2011

2011-07-31T18:46:00.000-07:00

The Joys of Tourism

This was my second year doing this tour. For the first year I brought heavy bags, did not pack well and did the long routes each day. I did not stop at the designated site seeing places and came home very tired. I was focused on performance and pitted myself against the routes.

This year, I packed lighter, rented a mattress and did the short route, doing all of the little museums and stops along the way. My cycling speed was much faster, I climbed very well and had a great time discovering things from woman's sufferage to antique bicycles in historical centers. I discovered a farm with Jersey cows that made gelato and fabulous cheese, I discovered a produce store that served as a temporary shelter in a torrential rain..that also served the best pie ever.

By being a tourist, I learned to really enjoy the region. I did not rush but was able to pass most people on the hills and arrive at the end point in plenty of time to take a shower, relax, set up my tent and read.

There were adventures as well! My expensive carbon cycling shoe with ratchets broke and I held it on with a used inner tube. Oddly it worked better than the ratchet! My new MSR Hubba tent that was so highly touted and rated actually broke. The pole snapped on the final night. I was saved by Marc who rode a tandem with his 72 year old mother. His mother produced a knitting needle that was able to feed the elastic tubing through my broken pole allowing me to attach the spare pole section. It worked. Luckily that was the last camping night of the tour.

Being a tourist allowed me to take my time and enjoy. At one point I was almost knocked down by a female cyclist at breakfast. "I have lost 10 minutes!!" she exclaimed as she bolted up the stairs. "I hope you find it" I said. There is no lost time, only time wasted in worry about time, or about performance and distance.

This years tour was a true Zen experience for me. I let go of all of my performance driven anxieties and enjoyed my gelato, cheese and company. I rode with two gentlemen from New Jersey who worked at the same hospital. One of them Lloyd who rode a tandem shared all of my interests in history, politics etc and like me, relished the beauty of the hills, the colours of the hay in the fields, the fresh air and the experience.

As it rained, I recalled what a Buddhist sage once said, which is to embrace the rain, and feel its wetness. I did not mind the rain. I embraced it and bought a rain jacket. I found beauty in the wet landscape, the dark skies and the dark shining roads. The more you fight with what is inevitable, the less happy you are. I chose to accept and had a fantastic trip.

This year I did not struggle with the course, I did not set myself against the route and the hills, I embraced them...they seemed to roll easily beneath my wheels as I felt the sun on my skin and the breeze on my face.

Being a tourist is clearly the way to ride.

Dogs and conscience

2011-07-22T12:18:00.001-07:00

Thomas Aquinas believed that dogs could not go to heaven, because they had no soul. He articulated a soul as the capacity to exert free will. A person with a soul must have a conscience.

Today I wonder if dogs have a conscience. Do dogs really know when they have done wrong without you telling them? My rescue dog Sophie is a true pirate dog. She believes that any food is fair game and takes delight in stealing.

I am going on a long bike trip and have packed special food bars. Some of them are chocolate and coffee, others peanut butter. Each bar is sealed in foil, and that placed in a plastic bag and that in a larger bag. I left to pick up my car and returned to see a foil wrapper, thankfully for peanut butter and jelly, on the floor. There were traces of torn wrapper that led, yes right to the pirates lair...her food dish.

Sophie had no idea she was doing wrong. She was rather proud of her accomplishment and sat beside me gleefully. There was no remorse, no apology. Sophie enjoyed her ill gotten gains without apology, guilt or even an upset stomach!

There are three levels to a conscience. The first level is when we don't do an action because we know there will be punishment. This is when the owner chastises the dog. This is self preservation! A second, and higher level, is that we don't do an action because we know it will upset the social order or others. This is the fear of social chastisement. Had Sophie been at this level, she would have known such a theft would clearly have upset me and confused the other dogs. The third level of conscience, Aquinas would say is we do not sin or do wrong, in order to please God. I would say that we often choose the right path out of love. It can be love of one's family, or simply to obey one's moral compass. We do this action because it is the right thing to do. This is often demonstrated by people who have risked their lives to save others. They will often just say 'it was the right thing to do'. This higher level of conscience I believe can be seen in dogs. There are stories of dogs sacrificing themselves to save a family member in fires or situations of danger.

Sophie failed somewhere between the first and second level of conscience. She is amoral. I am not sure the same can be said for all dogs. Thomas clearly never owned a dog!

Suntanning..pastime of the dinosaurs

2011-07-19T17:32:00.000-07:00

I have never worn sunscreen. My cycling friends do. They slather it on, greasing themselves like ducks before going into the oven. I believe that putting chemicals on the largest organ of your body and then cooking it, is a recipe for disaster. A few days ago, I had my FIRST sunburn. Nothing serious, a little peeling on the arm but since I am going on a six day bike tour, I decided to purchase sunscreen. I opted for Zinc oxide as the likelihood of that being absorbed by my skin is next to none.

I went to Bushtakah today to pick up sunscreen and other products for my bike tour next week. At Bushtakah I was greeted by a salesclerk of my vintage who shares my philosophy of sunscreen. We explained it to a young salesgirl in her 20's. She looked at us as if we were dinosaurs. In her generation, once the baby comes out of the womb it is slathered and greased with thick white SPF 200 solution. Kids of her generation never questioned sunscreen, it just came with the territory. Want to step outside? Wait wait get the sunscreen. Don't forget your ears! Diaper bags have special pockets so parents can carry sunscreen!

Most of these young folks never know what it means to have a sunburn. She winced as we told her of putting tinfoil around our faces to tan, and using baby oil. I must confess, while I did not use baby oil, my solution was Dark Tropic Tan.. spf 2. I wore that when I was sailing in the Caribbean and to my surprise my feet got sunburned.

The young salesgirl no doubt has heard that "Sun is bad" all her life and is indoctrinated. I on the other hand, live in Canada where for 10 months of the year (or so it seems) we are encased in snow and ice. When the sun and the warmth do appear I relish it like a pagan Druid, rejoicing in the heat and almost worshiping the sun. If the sun gets too strong, I will put on a long sleeve shirt or get in the shade. I got burned a little because I am a cyclist and hence exposed to the elements.

I used dark tanning oil as a teenager and so did all of my friends. I have never had a skin problem. I suspect that if I had slathered on SPF 100 and covered my pores with thick, white glue as parents do to their children nowadays, it may have been a different story.

Blame it on the thinning ozone layer caused by most people insisting on private gas powered transportation (aka a car), but my sunburn has caused me to actually buy sunscreen, albeit organic and a modest SPF 15!

Overplanning and bike touring

2011-07-11T14:24:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who describes herself as a destination person. She counts off days before her trip and if there was a transporter beam to take her to her destination she would beam there.

I enjoy the planning, probably because I am disorganized. This week I went on a three day two night bike camping trip and while I was packing and planning, you would think I was preparing for an expedition to the rainforest or at least Mt. Everest.

It became very evident that my old camping gear from my canoe camping days was not suitable. While I had a great stove, you had to prime and pump it, I could see this breaking so bought a simple little canister stove. The stove is very simple and plugs into a can of fuel. It is not like cooking over a fire. I quickly learned that you cant just turn it on, boil water and keep your water hot as we did over a fire. I ran out of fuel after making some bacon, a paltry amount of coffee and some eggs. Hmmmm.

My tent from canoe camping days was a nice light tent but a little low, so I bought a new ultra light tent, ditto for a new sleeping pad and sleeping bag. I finally have a sleeping bag that is warm enough...maybe too warm!

Titanium forks, bowls that collapse, small kettles and a food pack that I could hang and I was set. I also bought a hammock...luxury.

Towels..my pack towels are technological marvels. They fold into the size of a handkerchief and fold out to the size of a large beach towel and weigh about an ounce. They dry instantly.

Bike outfits with matching socks...that was easy but which ones to bring? I decided wisely on bib shorts for the entire trip.

When I finally decided what to pack, I must have repacked my bags 100 times to minimize what I was taking. I decided I did not need long pants or a sweater (needed both so I bought an Army surplus sweater). I decided that I did not need dental wax...mistake had to pick up some. Our livingroom looked like a war room with maps, notes etc.

I packed by Kobo reader. That was a real bonus..nothing like reading before bed. I also packed a journal with a fountain pen. The journal was small enough to carry and I journalled on some of our stops.

Once the bags are packed, and the bike loaded, the next adventure was actually getting on the bike. It was hard to vault over such high bags. Once you got going the momentum carried you but hard to stop. There is no way I could pack 'shorter' bags because of the length of the tent. However I saw Jim had strapped his tent to his back carrier hence his bags were shorter and thus easier to get over. I will copy that next time!

The trip itself after all my planning and detailing was almost an anticlimax. My trips usually are because of the attention I put into planning and packing. By the time I actually take my trip, I have already taken it in my mind many times over!

My friend is right. She would have thrown a few things in a bag, had a more spontaneous time and enjoyed herself. She would not have camped but thrown a few belongings in a bag and stayed in a hotel and she would have enjoyed the adventure!

The Freedom of Biking

2011-07-04T10:14:00.000-07:00

When I was 13 years old I got a new bike. It was a blue supercycle with white tire walls and a white saddle. I remember feeling immense pride in owning a bike and also great pleasure and a sense of freedom as I rode it around the town. It was my route, my bike, my choice.

Some 40 years later, I still bike. I love the speed and the sense that I can use my bike to do almost anything. I don't need a car to get me places. Recently I reintroduced myself to bike camping. There is nothing like the feeling of riding a bike with your camp gear and indeed your entire world on wheels. Fantastic.

When I bike, I feel that I am not ruining the planet for my own enjoyment. The only carbon dioxide I emit is from my own breath! I love the silence and being so close to the scenery that I can stop anywhere to enjoy the vistas. I love the fact that the bike is powered by me, not some engine. I love the fact that there are no traffic jams when I am on a bike, I can zip around like a cat.

I love the fact that I can park anywhere, parking spaces are always available and I can park my bike close to where I stop for a break or to have a picnic. If my bike breaks down, I can usually fix it and for the most part I can maintain my bike,

Cars are clumsy and awkward. They require mechanics and parts and are expensive to run. They run on gas and make you fat. My bike runs on fat and uses no gas!

Ottawa is considered one of the cycling capitals of the world. We have numerous bike paths that can take you almost anywhere and for the most part, cars are getting used to the idea that the bike is a vehicle and yes, we do ride ON the roads, not hugging the curb or on the sidewalk. Over 40 years later when I ride my bike, it is still my route, my choice, my freedom!

Vive le Velo!

Bike Touring take two: Beware the false messiahs!

2011-06-23T18:01:00.000-07:00

Today I listened to an interview of a self proclaimed bike tour guru. He started at 17 and is now 25. He has written a book about bike touring. I listened and was appalled at some of his tactics.

1) Bush or stealth camping. This is where you camp in the bush and make your own campsite hidden from view. This is a great way to be attacked or beset upon by undesirables. Chances are your spot is also the spot for those who have drunken bush parties! I would not recommend this practice to anyone especially women.

2) He is very down on park camping, presumably because there is a fee. There is also comfort, showers and security...I can't see the downside. You can always find a quiet place.

In addition to being unsafe, he was dismissive of gear. How can you be dismissive of gear! Camping gear has changed in the 20 years that I purchased my gear. It was great gear then but I found shopping for new gear great fun. Did you know there are backpacking expresso makers? Neither did I. How about towels that absorb 5X their weight that fit in your backpocket? Lightweight kettles, and best of all silicone bowls. These bowls squish and fold flat. Titanium sporks (fork and spoon), freezedried organic meals, silicone mugs,portable light tents of all sizes etc. etc. This year I bought a silk liner for my new sleeping bag...ahh the luxury!

Bike touring is a lot of fun, but one must beware of self proclaimed messiahs who advocate crazy things. I went bike camping alone a few days ago, but was not really alone, my husband knew my route and I cycled along roads well traveled. I camped in a provincial park that had wonderful hot showers.

There is solace in bike touring that comes from knowing that you have your home, your kitchen, your bedroom, closet and entertainment all with you. All my possessions (those needed for the trip) were around me.I plan to do a few more small trips this summer because they are a lot of fun. When I do longer trips I will encourage others to join me, as in remote areas it is never a good idea to travel alone.

Beware the false messiah!

Bike Camping

2011-06-21T12:29:00.001-07:00

Yesterday and today I decided to relive my bike camping days and took a trip some 70km away to a provincial park to camp overnight and then ride home.

I used to do a fair bit when I was younger, but now over 50 it is not quite as I remember it. The bike is heavier and it takes me longer to pack! In fact, compared to my other bikes, touring seems like driving a truck.

There is, however, something magical about having your tent, sleeping gear etc all in your bags and you are free to explore the road. On day one I followed a bike route, it was rambling, twisty and I got lost a few times. Today, I decided to 'go straight' and followed one road. On Monday, after making many wrong turns and cycling in the heat, I arrived in Manotick at the black dog cafe, not hungry but thirsty enough to drink a river. Two ice teas, a salad, three glasses of water and one large Beau's lager later I was ready to roll. I arrived at the campsite at around 3pm. On Tuesday I decided to take a direct route.

My direct route led me into North Gower where I spent some delightful time in the town archives speaking with the archivists. History never ceases to fascinate me.

My campsite was at the Rideau River Park, a lovely small provincial park. I set up my tent and was joined by Cyril for supper. We had a roaring fire, I had a drink and then put my breakfast away. I carefully put my eggs, bacon, tomato and bread under a pot with a heavy peice of wood on top. In the morning, the bacon and bread were gone, the eggs broken and the tomato left. I made an egg and tomato omelet.

I was excited to try my coffee filter for my coffee and boiled some water in my new kettle. The coffee was so bad even I could not stomach it. I will repeat the experiment at home and see what happened.

My speed was reduced with this bike. I could maintain a speed or around 24km/hr but there is no way I could maintain a speed close to 30km/hr which is more what I am used to. At times, I felt like I was pushing a lead weight.

I got to try my new Hubba Hubba tent...beautiful, sleeping bag worked and even the thermarest pad worked well. The new camping equipment is so superior to my old 25 year old gear which was far bulkier.

To all those folk who are regular bike campers kudos to you. it is a LOT more work than mere road riding.

Why ALL dogs go to heaven

2011-06-20T05:54:00.000-07:00

As a theologian I have always been fascinated by concepts of heaven. Many cultures reward their heroes and base their afterlife on a concept of heroes.

The Greeks, for example, rewarded valor with the Elysian fields. On Saturday I attended a performance of Die Valkyrie, part of Wagner's Ring cycle. The Valkyrie, in full armour and bearing her sword appears to Siegmund with her prepared speech. "I appear to heroes who will fall in battle and will escort you to Valhalla" she describes Valhalla as a place where Siegmund would be attended by fair maidens and would be greeted by other heros. He is interested but then asks if his wife Sieglinda could accompany him. The Valkyrie shakes her head "no girls allowed". Siegmund then refuses to go to Valhalla.

The Valkyrie is shocked. A similar scene was shown in the movie Black Robe where the Jesuit priest is speaking to the natives he is accompanying on a long canoe journey about heaven. He describes heaven and the chief asks as he is smoking if there will be tobacco. The Jesuit shakes his head, very sure that there would be no tobacco in heaven. The chief then asks about women..would have have his women. Again no...no male or female in heaven. The chief, at that point, writes off Christianity.

The problem with heaven is that every time we extrapolate from our own experiences we create ridiculous versions of heaven. Is heaven a hall of heroes? Is it a smoke free zone? Is it people playing harps? If we believe in an afterlife, what is it?

This is why all dogs go to heaven. I have learned about heaven from my dog Sophie. For the first 8 years of her life, she was abused, neglected and starved. She was brutalized. If you had asked her about heaven she may have answered that it was a place where you could get a meal..but her experiences and life was so limited she could not extrapolate. She never knew love.

Sophie now has soft beds, she is greeted with affection, has homemade meals, is never hungry and is very much loved. Sophie could not have extrapolated love as she had no concept of love.

The problem with our concepts of heaven is that they are based on our extrapolations from our experiences. Our life experiences, like that of Sophie, are simply too limited to understand what it would mean to be totally loved and appreciated for who you are. To be welcomed not as a hero..but to be loved and appreciated. To be valued and cherished.

Sophie has taught me that a concept of heaven that does not consider the depths of love and is too bound by physical concepts and restrictions...is simply not worth going to.

2011 weekend to end women's cancers...end the circus

2011-06-07T12:06:00.000-07:00

This year I volunteered for the 2011 weekend to end women's cancers held in Ottawa. I was part of Team Experience and hence was able to see more of the organization and what was going on.

The weekend is organized by a professional group that comes with trucks, stages, lighting and speakers who practice gravitas and say "you have done it ladies". There are huge signs, screens...and it is done with the professionalism of a traveling stage crew which is what they are.

I managed to speak with Barb the chairman or CEO of the traveling stage show and suggested that there could be more walkers IF the $2500.00 fundraising minimum was reduced to $500.00. Without batting an eye she said "this would not cover our costs" sensing she had made a mistake, she then proceeded to try to impress me with the stage, the professionalism etc.

Needless to say, we DO NOT NEED a professional traveling circus. This event could be held locally and run by volunteers. Ottawa is a very generous city. No where in the literature does it ever mention the "cost" of the show and I am sure that walkers believe that all of their money goes to help cancer survivors and research, but this is not the case.

We need to stand up and TAKE BACK OUR WEEKEND. We do not need paid stagehands and an army of staff with microphones to make this a spectacular weekend. By involving more of our local businesses, this event could be a true feather in the cap of the Regional Cancer foundation instead of a pawn and a money maker for the professional stagehands.

Summer is the time!!!

2011-05-31T14:17:00.001-07:00

It is summer and I have a broken wrist. I have cancelled many of my bike tours and have been unable to do much training...BUT on June 10th it comes off!

I have a tour planned in New York and a new one at the end of August in the Blue Ridge parkway...known for spectacular climbs and scenery. This year I will go with a group and hopefully gather like minded people for next year. I will visit my family at the same time/

So what is left? Brockville with panniers, Bon Ton Roulet, Picton x 2 and the Summers end Century. At least I have those to look forward to and train hard for!

There is nothing quite so wonderful as a good bike tour and for me a good deal of the pleasure is in planning..so CAST OFF SOON!

Percy Saltzman and weather porn

2011-05-11T18:48:00.000-07:00

Percy Saltzman was a TV meteorologist. They were no weather men in those days. He had a chalkboard and analyzed the weather patterns, there were no "Oh my it will rain" or "I am so so sorry about the weekend", it was just the weather.

Today we have weather men, personalities in their own right with their own twitter accounts. Complete with the latest technologies, these weather people make it seem that they in fact control the weather. It usually starts with the inane news host who says "How is the weekend looking..." and then a pained expression. There is no science in this, it is all cute, apologetic and overkill. The swirling satellite images look daunting and with a serious expression the weather people will tell you yes partial cloud, scattered showers and a 20km/hr wind. What that means is nothing except a breeze all bets are off. But the weather personality cult is such that it has many people terrorized.

My mother actually believes the weather forecasts. She thinks it is akin to having a horoscope cast, fixed and rigid. She is unaware that the weather forecasts themselves are based on models and guesses and approximations. Thus my mother hears scattered showers and a 20 km.hr wind and she is prepared for a deluge with wind. It does not help that we are constantly bombarded with images of floods, and storms.

The weather person cult is like Fox news. When you listen to Fox news you are convinced you are in the middle of a crime zone and the streets around you are crawling with drug crazed maniacs. The only safe thing is to lock your doors and wait until Fox news pronounces it safe. In Canada we don't have Fox news but we do have weather people who have a cult following and have people actually believe them.

I lived in Newfoundland where you can have three seasons in one day so I take weather people with a healthy dose of skepticism.

I miss Percy Saltzman. The weather people today would do well to learn from his example, cut the hype, cut the cuteness..just the facts ma'am.

The Election

2011-04-26T09:34:00.000-07:00

This year I am volunteering to help my local Liberal Candidate. I am truly appalled by the Conservative party, also known as the Harper conservatives. The dictator known as Harper has been found in contempt of Parliament and brushes it off as a tactic by his enemies. He refers to Parliamentary debates as bickering and has shown a distaste for entering into debates of any kind.

His message is "Vote for me or else". The tragedy is, people are actually voting for this man. I don't understand it. Anyone who watches the news, reads commentaries, will know that:
1) He has created a huge deficit
2) The reason we weathered the recession was because of the work that Paul Martin did
3) He shows contempt for the Canadian people by refusing to respect Parliament and democracy
4) He tolerates no opposition.
5) He has no respect for our judicial system and continues to insist on a nonsensical law and order plan that is based on flawed research and a US model.
6) Harper does not believe in universal medicare.

This would be acceptable if Harper were running for election in the Ivory Coast ..but this is Canada.

Harper is a threat to democracy, and a threat to the Canada that I know and love. I am dismayed that anyone would vote for this individual.

Death wish on a bicycle

2011-04-26T09:28:00.000-07:00

The sky this morning was solid grey and it was raining steadily. While driving my husband to his medical appointment, I noticed a cyclist. She had a mountain-hybrid type of bike and was going in the same direction I was.

Then I saw, she reached to her ear and had an ipod. The white wires were a dead give away, she paused to adjust her earpieces, did not look around and continued to ride, through a stop sign.

While I am all for cycling, cycling with a ipod is clearly a death wish. There are enough hazards with Ottawa pot holes, (I like the French ni de poule better), drivers, road garbage, and in this case a steady rain without purposely handicapping yourself.

Why do people do this? The cyclist was not a teenager, she appeared to be around 30 years of old, so had reached 'the age of reason'.

The good thing is, the cyclist had a helmet. I am not sure what she was protecting though, because clearly her head is empty!

Good Friday insights

2011-04-23T19:47:00.000-07:00

This has been a very busy week for me. I sing in a small but ACTIVE choir and have been exhausted with choir practices, church, more choir and church. It is all fun. This Good Friday we had a long rather monastic liturgy with processing and chanting and some singing. I have never enjoyed Good Friday finding the entire sacrificial lamb and atonement aspect of theology somewhat primitive, so normally I don't really pay attention to what is said. This time, the liturgical comments were about pain and rejection and it dawned on me that there is something very universal about Good Friday, which in essense is about utter abandonment, pain and rejection. Even God forsook Jesus as he lay in agony.

The Easter message, that of resurrection, perhaps shows us that in even in the midst of rejection, betrayal and the all to numerous horrors of the world (the election??), that good will triumph, life will rise again and there is hope.

The Christian message does not see the world through rose coloured glasses. All is NOT all right with Jesus...and yes, the righteous do suffer..but in the end, all is not lost. There is the triumph of hope. No doubt this was what Victor Frankl understood when he realized that in the midst of utter darkness, in his case a concentration camp, if one loses hope...if one loses sight of Easter...then indeed all is lost.

Democracy at work..town hall meetings...conservatives a no show!

2011-04-18T20:00:00.000-07:00

Tonight I attended the all candidates meeting for my riding in Ottawa-South. Ottawa South has an excellent incumbent in David McGuinty for the Liberal party. McGuinty is hard working, has a strong social conscience, is highly intelligent and well versed on the issues. He is a dream candidate and the kind of person I am proud to support.

The Conservative candidate did not show up for the debate and McGuinty debated with a well meaning Green party candidate and a charming young fellow from the Pirate party. It was a tribute to our democratic process that questions were asked to all the candidates although Mike from the Pirate party(that stands for copyright protection and open access to information) and Mic from the Green party were clearly out of their depth on most if not all of the issues. That is the democratic process, to get involved, to take a stand on issues and to ask questions.

The Conservatives have shown a distinct aversion to any form of debate during this election fearing questions, or dismissing debates as Harper does, as mere bickering.

Despite the Conservative propaganda that no one is interested, the room at Rideau Park United church was packed. There was a long line of individuals asking questions and it was democracy at work. The questions ranged from health care, to military spending right down to the fact that McGuinty does not know a tweet from a chirp. He promised he would learn!

Bravo for Canada and for our democratic process where questions are asked and parties like the Pirate party can sit at the same table as the more traditional parties like the Liberals. Such debates and exchanges of ideas are at the very heart of democracy. It is a pity that the Conservatives do not believe in it!

Terror on pedals

2011-04-10T19:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a beautiful warm spring day and my first ride of the season. I was pretty excited and packed carefully and rode from home, some 13km to the start point.

The group was fairly fast so I would not be bored. Unfortunately 10km into the ride on Robertson rd, shortly after the Queensway Carleton hospital...terror struck. My left pedal and clip, which is the one I normally clip in and out of was giving me problems. Things were not sticking the way they should. I was using my mountain shoes and my SPD clips. This problem has happened before with them but I did not see the signs.

I played with the cleats as I rode and finally forced my foot down. There was a very loud CLICK. A little too loud. Worried, I tried to unclip and to my horror, my pedal would not release. My foot was glued to the pedal..and this caused me no end of worry. My right foot could release well enough and had I been calm, I could have ridden with one foot but I am a creature of habit and visualized having to stop, being unable to release the foot I always release and falling into traffic.

My heart raced and I called out "I am in trouble and stopping". I stopped at the side of the road. John tried to get my foot out of the shoe and after a great deal of effort, my foot emerged. We could not unclip the shoe from the pedal. John left and with one shoe on, I tried with my tools to extricate the shoe from the pedal. No luck. I walked half shoeless to a coffee shop to await rescue from Cyril.

Cyril picked me up and as we drove off, I was going to take him home and then go the bike store, it became clear that I had left my cellphone in the Second cup. Horrors. I dropped Cyril at home and then went to Kunstadts. After some effort, they extracted the shoe. The little metal cleat on the shoes for the SPD cleats has two screws. One of the screws was missing and my shoe had clamped onto the pedal using the hole for one of the missing screws. Thus, I was unable to pull free. Very scary!

My last mission of the day was to retreive my cellphone. By this time I was rattled and very worried about future safety with these cleats. I missed the turnoff several times and circled the Second Cup from all angles, except the right one. Finally, I picked up my cellphone and drove home.

It is hard to describe the way I felt when I knew my foot was clamped onto that pedal and I could not get out. I had one fall once with a fully loaded bike that left a nasty scar on my knee and I wince to recall that time!

Clipless pedals are great. They allow you to pull up on pedals and get a lot more acceleration and power..but when they put a deathgrip on your shoe...you have to be a far cooler customer than I.

The family that bikes together....

2011-04-10T16:49:00.000-07:00

I am passionate about biking and know of a family that bikes together. Rather than going to the mall, Mom, Dad and four kids go biking. This warms my heart! I use them as an example of how to live responsibly and raise children to have environmental consciences.

Yesterday was a beautiful warm spring day. It was the first fine Spring day we have had in Ottawa and my family (I cannot use their names...so lets call them the Jones) went out for a bike ride. It was heavenly, Dad, Mom, and the four kids all on bikes with helmets and smiles. Off they went.

There are those who would blame a slight breeze for the problem, others see more sinister motives but a slight breeze slowed the progress of the youngest daughter Sophie. Sophie is a very bright, very competitive child who is certain she can best her older siblings in everything. Alas, the wind slowed her down..and then it started. Softly at first but then louder and louder...until it was like the wail of a banshee. The moans and complaints from Sophie.

At first, imagining it to be temporary, the wails and cries of Sophie Jones were ignored and the family rode on. Sophie got louder and louder until the family became worried. Mom was starting to imagine there was something wrong with Sophie and so they rode to the Pizza Pizza place for Pizza.

Sophie shook her head. No pizza. They offered her soft drinks, through sobs she moaned no soft drinks. She lay her head on the table and wept complaining of a pain in her side. Mom was thinking that Sophie was having an attack of appendicitis and touched Sophies belly. Howls. Sophie's Dad, Alex checked his blackberry...the pain should be lower down and she should be nauseated. As if on cue Sophie adjusted her pain spot and felt sick to her stomach. Carole, Sophie's mother was almost hysterical with worry!

Carol who had graduated from hysteria to a state of frenzy at this point decided to see if Sophie was bluffing. Carol hardened her face and squared off against the steely look of Sophie and said "Do you need to see a doctor" "Maybe" came the reply. Carol dug deep inside of her and said "YOu may need an appendectomy" "Whats that?" "Surgery" "maybe"

At this point, Alex and Carol decide that Alex and the older siblings will race back to the home and Alex will return with the car to retrieve his sick daughter. Carol and Sophie waited. Once Alex returned, his face white with anxiety and worry...Carol raced back on her bike as fast as she could pedal, her mind racing, visions of ambulances...

When she got home and breathlessly opened the door, gasping she said "How is Sophie" "She's fine" said Alex. "Fine what do you mean fine!!" Carol stormed in to find Sophie wrapped in her favourite blanket watching a princess movie that she had wanted to see that afternoon.

The moral of the story and breaking news for medical science, is that a princess movie can be a miracle cure for appendicitis!

The different species of bike riders!

2011-04-01T11:05:00.001-07:00

I thought spring would never come and that my bike would be forever chained to the trainer in my basement but behold, today I saw a robin and watched as the temperature rose. Yes bike season is back.

The first bike rides with any club are predictable.I have divided riders into the following categories. The first is the "new bike types" There are always those who have purchased new bikes, some hundreds of grams lighter at considerable cost. They maintain that this will make them faster and better riders. They forget that the most important component to any bike is not the frame or even the wheel weight, but the fitness of the rider. Too many Easter chocolates can make a difference!

The next type, or genre are the born again fitness types. They have enrolled in triathalons and will happily tell you all about their bench presses, their V02 max, their power output and will try to convince you that your methods, if you have any, are old school and outmoded. The best solution to these people is to make sure that you pass them early in the ride and drop them. This is the only way to cool their evangelistic ardour!

The new toy type comes next. These are individuals who have purchased a GPS system or a power meter. I have ridden with GPS riders, they miss the scenery because they are fixated on their tiny screens that tell them where they are. "Did you know we are in Kemptville?" "Yes" "How do you know" It is at this point that you point out the large "Welcome to Kemptville" sign for them to see. Maps are a thing of the past for these folks. A close second to the GPS geek is the heart rate geek. I have a heart rate monitor, it records my heart rate. The heart rate geeks have incredible monitors that beep and bleep when your numbers get too high, or fall too low. I suppose if you died...the monitor would call 911 for you. These machines are colourful and loud. Nothing ruins a lovely zen moment of riding in the country than BEEP BEEP of someone's heart rate monitor. As for me, I am very good at predicting my numbers. If I am panting, finding it hard to breath and maintain an effort, chances are my heart rate is close to its maximum. Biking is beautiful because of its simplicity.

There are the tire phobes. These are individuals who are convinced that the narrower the tire the better..and hence they cannot ride near gravel, sand, potholes...or anything else except a smooth paved velodrome. Yes they will tell you that a 22 mm tire is better than a 25 mm tire and you go faster. In fact, you do not, but no amount of physics will convince these people. Like religious zealots they preach the gospel of skinny high high pressure tires and slow the ride because of pinch flats! Heaven forbid that they should put on a puncture resistant tire..weight you know!

Bicycle clothing is another interesting thing to observe. I know that unless you are build like an olympian no one looks good in bike clothing..but that is not the point. The point of tight clothing is for wind resistance and efficiency over a long distance. While wearing loose clothing that catches wind like a parachute may not seem like an obstacle, once you ride over 80km, those little inefficiencies will start to slow you down more and more until you are dropped from the group. Yes while parasailing is a fun sport, a bike ride is not the place to practice parasailing!

The last type of rider is best described as the "I don't like groups I prefer to ride alone" This spells trouble. It means a rider who is not confident in their own skills to ride in a pack and a rider without skills is a dangerous one. In a headwind it is crazy not to form a peleton or a paceline, either staggered or straight. It is insanity not to shelter from the wind. What happens is that these riders will catch the wind, and fall further and further behind..eventually vanishing on the horizon.

This is what makes biking such a lot of fun!

In praise of electronic readers!

2011-03-31T09:13:00.000-07:00

This Christmas I was given a KOBO electronic reader. It had about 100 books already pre loaded and decided to take it on my Cuban holiday this year. Normally when I travel to Cuba, I bring with me my Spanish dictionary and other resources as well as a few books. This makes my bag heavy and cumbersome.

I purchased a Spanish book for my Kobo as well as "the Best laid plans" which won the Canada reads competition. The Best laid plans was a sheer delight to read. The Kobo is light, very portable and very readable. I was able to bring my book poolside or enjoy a good read under a palm covered umbrella at the beach. It is also light enough to read when you are in bed. Since I was participating in a bike training camp, I usually was in bed at 930 and asleep by 932!

I collect fountain pens, have leather and canvas bags for my bike and generally enjoy the feel and touch of well made, well crafted items. Hence, I was unsure as to my abilities to enjoy the KOBO.

If you enjoy reading and are in a situation where you are traveling and weight and space are at a premium (I can think of the many times I was on diving holidays and the space in my boat cabin was limited), then the Kobo is a great choice.

A best seller costs about $6.00 which is far less than a paperback and less cumbersome than a hardcover. You can also delete books if you are finished reading them, or purchase additional storage capacity. If you are like me, unless the book is a timeless classic like the Lord of the Rings, it is unlikely that I will ever re-read a book. On the other hand, I find it very difficult to get rid of books in my house. I can give away clothing, electronics, household appliances..everything but in the case of a book there is always a nagging voice that says "what if". Indeed, what if I would ever need my textbooks on advanced calculus or fluid mechanics? One never knows. I have packed these textbooks in boxes and they are piled in my basement. It has been at least two years and I have not opened the boxes...but ...but.

An electronic reader solves this problem as there is no issue with storage. If you don't read a book, delete it.

I realize that my words go against the very fiber of my soul as a historian, which is to keep and preserve for posterity. There is something quite wonderful in finding an old book at a sale and seeing the underlined sections, looking at the dates and the signatures and imagining where that book has been. On the other hand, one can quickly become burdened by wonderful things. I am all too aware that letter writing is vanishing and we are replacing our modes of communication and even our grammar with atrocious text constructs like LOL or ROFL. I am also aware that many people no longer read finding that a luxury. Perhaps the ereaders will appeal to these individuals, who may purchase one to be fashionable, but will soon get hooked.

The long season of Lenten bike training

2011-03-27T17:18:00.001-07:00

The Lenten season began in November for me. It has also been a time of a crisis in my faith. Since November, I have been diligently training when it became too cold to enjoy outdoor biking. Since that time, I have been in my basement, or on my weights and even in Cuba. I have grunted and groaned, astonished my dogs and cursed at my training videos. I have learned a lot about technique, nutrition, speed etc but I am eager to leave the basement and hit the road.

The problem is, there is still snow and ice and it is about -10 degrees out there. I know you can layer but riding a performance bike bundled up like the Michelin man is an accident waiting to happen.

I have planned my bike trips for the summer, and am looking forward to time trials and the occasional group ride. Many of my rides will be solitary training rides as I find going at a steady pace for x amount of kilometers does not lead to improvement in my case, just more miles!

I am ready to go outside. My biking outfits are coordinated, my gloves are clean, my socks matching...all is ready with one exception..the weather. I have tried numerous rituals to encourage the temperature to rise. I believe the best way to do this is appease mother nature and be kind to the earth. To wit, I observed earth hour, I wear organic cotton socks, I never waste electricity, I walk or use public transit...I truly want to believe that the warmth will return...but I find myself doubting. Perhaps I am not trying hard enough!

Tomorrow morning My Lent will continue in the basement tomorrow with a grueling 2.5 hour epic workout that will surely be a pleasing sacrifice! The ancient Israelites used to sacrifice bulls but I am offering my exertion and that has to count for something!

Alas, the forecast for Tuesday calls for much of the same, cold, windy and pleasant only to those in the business of selling down parkas and wool underwear.

I am not sure what to believe anymore!

Cuba and Pleasantville

2011-03-15T21:25:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I watched a movie called Pleasantville, which was about a carefully controlled town that was entirely in black and white. There were no books in the library and everyone lived carefully measured and boring lives. Of course an outsider changed that and infused colour into the town.

Cuba is a modern day Pleasantville. In the past 10 years that I have visited, Cuba remains stuck in the 1950's. Their libraries contain numerous books about the revolution in 1953 but nothing else. The museums are all about the revolution...there is no visible progress. 10 years ago most people use horses for labour and oxen to plough, that still remains.

Of course they have a good system of education and medicine, but like Pleasantville it is only a matter of time until the steady state system known as Cuba will change. It is already happening with the internet. While the newspapers are controlled, food rationed and the way of life unchanged, the internet with its possibilities and information will bring change to the Cuban landscape.

The revolution in 1953 involved gunfire and the ousting of Battista. This revolution will be one of ideas. The life for the average Cuban is worse under Raul Castro than Fidel. The truth is, that the Cuban revolution is static and has failed under its own system. Economically, Cuba is stuck in 1953. Ideologically, Cuba is at a crossroads of change as new ideas are sweeping Cuba through the internet.

In Pleasantville, once the people had tasted colour, they could not go back to their black and white world. Once the Cuban people are exposed to new ideas, the black and white world of Castro's Cuba will be changed forever.

The Happiness Project..blah blah best seller

2011-03-15T21:09:00.001-07:00

On the recommendation of a friend I am reading the Happiness Project. It is a best seller about one woman's search for happiness. I can tell you right away why she is having a hard time. She is the most tedious person imaginable as she researches where to find happiness. Is it in interests? (She catalogues this), a tidy closet? Lack of clutter...etc etc. I cant imagine why it is a best seller.

Happiness is not an end in itself. It is a by product of a life that is lived with confidence and contentment. Happiness is not a day on the beach, or a nicely organized sock drawer...it is simply a state of being that comes naturally as one lives. I am happy when I see the snow, or the rain, or the sun. I am happy when I go to my bike shed and look at my bikes, or go on my trainer. Happy when I have breakfast, or see my husband or walk my dogs. I don't do anything to look for happiness nor do I fret about "am I happy"

Happiness, or rather an appreciation of the state of happiness exists more obviously when we are directed towards others. I find that I am most satisfied when I am assisting others in some way or thinking about their well being. A life lived in the pursuit of your own happiness to the exclusion of others is doomed to fail. That is why, although I have not finished reading the book, I am pretty sure the author will never find happiness because her search is all about her. It is akin to reading the diary of a 13 year old girl!

I suppose I find the popularity of this dreary read depressing. Is it the case that most of us can no longer find pleasure in a cup of tea? Or in watching birds at a feeder, or people, or watching snowflakes as they fall and alight on fenceposts? Have we become so joyless and morose that we cannot experience the immense pleasure that physicality gives us? The joy of movement or of music? Is this why Prozac is a best seller as well? Is Prozac our Soma where we try to recapture something of the colour of life?

Happiness is not something we look for, it is the way we live and you don't need a book to find that out.

My Holguin Training camp in pictures

2011-03-14T16:52:00.000-07:00

Another free digital slideshow by Smilebox

Training camp in Cuba

2011-03-08T18:34:00.000-08:00

From February 27th- March 6th I was with the velo quebec training camp in Holguin Cuba. Training camp means 4 hours on a bike in Cuba learning different peleton formations. The peleton means you can go much longer and sustain speeds in headwinds.

Holguin has a lot of hills and headwinds. On day one, I made the mistake of wearing a heart rate monitor and scared myself, the combination of heat and hills made me think I was dying so I slowed down. On the second day, I left it in my room and had a wonderful tour. It all was going so well, I was in the pack and paused to have a drink. In a flash, the peleton was gone. No worries, there is a bus to follow. There was no bus, I was convinced I was on the wrong road so turned. The roads in Cuba in this area are well maintained, I rode past houses, and bus stops and fruit sellers until finally I asked a man on a horse who told me indeed the peleton was on another road. I went on that road and saw them coming back to me. I went ahead of the peleton towards the end.

The hotel we stayed at was Costa Verde hotel in Playa Pesquero. It was the standard Cuban hotel with little villas for the tourists, entertainment but this one had fabulous food with argentinian beef. There is nothing like a good meal after a hard and hot ride and a swim in turquoise waters. I was with a French group and noticed stark differences between French and English. The most obvious is that the French relish their meals and their food. It is a passion for them. I can not eat before riding, but they can and enjoyed every morsel of the succulent sausages, or omelettes or crepes with fruit.

While on the bike, we were taught different peleton formations and I learned that the secret is rapid rotation to avoid getting tired. This is done by the team leader whistling. After you ride for about 80-100km in the hills you are tired although you dont feel it. I did yoga in the morning and was never stiff or sore. By 9pm I was in bed however.

The beach is pristine with thick white sand and a beach bar. It was relaxing to sit and watch the ocean waves and swim although the good reef swimming was further afield. Although I had my mask and snorkel and fins, I only used them twice because of the distance required to have access to the reefs. I did try the catamaran and of course swam,

The hotel also had a pool which we used in a spirited game of volleyball. Our ball sailed out of the pool and onto the laps of many surprised guests sunning themselves like beached whales poolside. Our side lost!

I spent a week with what is best described as iron men and women and a few olympic hopefuls. By the end of the week, I could easily keep up but day one was a shock. I was champion of my basement after all and master of my training..but this was another level. As our coach said to improve you must crack and break and push beyond all limits of pain. Hitherto, I had pushed but not as hard as I did for this week. Try as I may there were some passes that were just too difficult and like many, I took the bus, which I called the "room of recovery" to the next section of our route.
There is something very challenging and at the same time inspiring to ride with people who are a LOT better than you. I was also somewhat annoyed that on day one, they did not wait, nor did they on the second day. By the last day I was using my large gears which gives me a lot more power and speed.

This season I will sprint and do interval training, which I am convinced is the secret to improving as a cyclist. We must leave our comfort zones and push.

Logistics are not my thing!

2011-02-25T13:43:00.000-08:00

I am going for one week to Cuba in a bike training camp this Sunday. I have been to Cuba dozens of times before but because I have to bring my bike, this trip has been a logistical headache.

The initial problem arose with finding a bike box for my bike. Thankfully Kunstadts came to the rescue with a hard sided box. After much deliberation, I decided to take my heavier steel bike with the triple cranks. The shoes are more comfortable and I can get a lot of power out of it. It is not a formal race but training.

The next headache was transporting myself and the bike. I was pretty sure the bike and my luggage, which I have pared down to the bare essentials, would not fit in my car, and I was correct. The box is huge and takes a truck or a large van without seats. Taxi service to the rescue!

The flight leaves from Montreal. Greyhound to the rescue! Greyhound will take me to the airport...which is great, no driving, no parking, no headaches.

In Cuba we will stay at one resort. The training is pretty intense so I am not sure how much down time I will have but I have packed my snorkeling gear in case. There are snorkeling kits available at the resort, but to me, using someone elses mask and snorkel would be akin to borrowing their toothbrush. No thanks!

When the training is over, I will leave my luggage at the airport (Greyhound station) and stay at a B and B in Montreal, have brunch with my niece, come back, board the bus and go home. I will sleep for a few days!

BUT...how to get that large box back to Kunstandts. There is the rub. Perhaps they will stay open just long enough for me to call a taxi to take me there and drop it off.

In days of old, they had sherpas to carry all their goods. The bike box included. Or large trucks, donkeys or something. Today, with a very small car and a circle of friends who also have tiny cars, transporting is not the easiest matter.

The training, some 130 km a day up hills at speed, will be the easy part. The tough part is getting it all there in one piece without breaking the bank!

Who says older= wiser, lessons from trip preparations

2011-02-19T13:57:00.000-08:00

When I was a child, taking a trip to the beach was so easy. I would throw a towel in a bag put on my bathing suit and go with my parents to one of the many lovely beaches in Prince Edward County. I was unencumbered and gloriously free to enjoy the day! I did not worry how far I could swim or what colour my bathing suit was. I did not worry if I had sandals or enough "out of water snacks", I enjoyed my time on the sand dunes making castles and using sticks for flags or even better using bird feathers. I enjoyed battling the waves and riding on my heavy blue and red air mattress like a wobbly surfboard as I waved to my mother and father.

Today I am preparing for a one week long cycling race camp in Cuba. The things that are mandatory for this tour are my bike, spare inner tubes, water bottles and in ride snacks. I have been preparing for this ride for 2 months on my bike trainer and doing intensive yoga, I have lost weight and am fitter than ever but the problem is with packing. I may as well be preparing for a mountain climbing trip to Everest given the amount of preparation.

I have a different cycling kit for each day, all packed in freezer bags with the air pumped out. I have my sunglasses, my repair kit (recommended) and a first aid kit (also recommended but I brought an expedition size),I have packed three pair of shorts, five T shirts and plenty of items to give away including a clarinet and a box of toothpaste from my dentist. To cut down on weight I have packed my electronic reader rather than books. I also packed my snorkeling gear, a thin jacket and three baseball hats, two of which are giveaways. When you add my cycling shoes, helmet and the 'in ride snacks and protein powders' I now have two bags and one is heavy.

This is a mystery to me. My bike clothes are all made of lycra. To understand this I have produced a diary

Two Weeks before trip
Day One: Get large bag out of basement, open bag and look for flippers and snorkelling gear

Day Two :Repair snorkel, test and pack

Day Three: Find 7 cycling kits with matching socks, pack each individually
Find summer shorts and sandals, pack along with T shirts and cycling jacket

Day Three PM: Change mind about cycling kits, repack and change mind about cycling jacket. Repack

Day Four:
Pack repair kit and put in ride snacks in individual packets...pack

Day Four pm
Decide that first aid kit needs to be packed and repack ride snacks adding gels

Day five am
Change mind about bike. Decide to take the touring bike, advise bike shop, pack correct shoes
Decide to take bus to Montreal

Day Five pm: decide a sweater is a good idea, pack a sweater. Decide I need to expand the items I will give away and so include a clarinet, two harmonicas and a case of toothpaste.
Find B and B in Montreal
Endure phone call from my mother who thinks I should just hop on a bus at 2am from Montreal to Ottawa. Was unaware I will have bags and a bicycle.

Day Six; augment items to give away and pack more T shirts and hats

Day Seven: Unpack snorkel and dive gear and add one piece lycra skin suit. Realize that some form of sunscreen is a good idea
Buy sunscreen and zinc and repack first aid kit accordingly

Day Seven pm:
Pack arnica massage oil, pain pills, and ear plugs. Decide that the massage bar is not necessary. Take out massage bar, put in elastic stretch bands instead.

Day eight
Find that when my bag is packed I can't lift it. Separate items into two bags, one for sports the other for clothes and give away items. Go to bus depot to buy tickets. Find line up too long go home

Day eight pm
Find bag with sports items still very heavy and wonder about the weight of cycling clothing, worry about not having a bus ticket

Day nine
worry about decision not to take racing bike, call bike mechanic to confirm my choice
Call Velo Quebec about daily distances
Pack scuba gear
Unpack scuba gear

Day ten
Pack art supplies, drawing pencils and pastels. Change mind and unpack art supplies leaving only a journal and a few drawing pencils

Day 11
Will try again to get a bus ticket

I am tired just writing it out!!

There was a time when I would enjoy events unencumbered, when I would relish the event and not worry about what I would do, what I would wear, how I would perform, I was content to be.

Supposedly you wiser as you get older but I am not so sure of that.

Valentines day...

2011-02-14T16:57:00.000-08:00

Ahh Valentine's day, a day of lovely velvet boxes, great chocolates and flowers. The day after Valentine's day chocolate lovers will flock to the stores to buy those beautiful boxes at half price!

As a child growing up on the base, we all bought valentines cards for our classmates. They came in a book. Some were large with pictures of Superman..you are a SUPER valentine, they would read (my favourite) some were just small hearts. The night before Valentine's day at home, I would take out all the valentine cards and decide who to give them too. At school, we had time to distribute the cards. I tried to give one to everyone in the class.

My desk was never overflowing with valentines. I got the small ones, the leftovers that you could not decide who to give to. I think I may have gotten one SUPERMAN valentine. It was always a disappointing time.

My mother would buy me a small box of chocolates. I would save the boxes and store treasures in them long after the caramel chocolates were consumed. Gradually I had no more room to store them and the practice died out.

Years later, after I married and moved to Elmvale Acres I decided to change Valentine's day and used my now deceased cat Felix to be a 'secret valentine'. Felix would purchase small boxes of chocolates, not the velvet box but paper boxes with flowers on them and with a small card, deposit them in the mailboxes of the many isolated senior citizens on my street. I never told anyone what Felix was doing and it delighted me to think of the surprise. One woman, Mrs. Noble caught me and could not believe what I was doing.

I no longer look in my mailbox or on my desk for those little cards, and my mother has long ceased getting me small boxes for my treasures. Felix no longer distributes chocolates and it seems that Valentine's day has disappeared into the dreariness of an Ottawa February day.

There is always tomorrow, when I will line up to buy a huge velvet box of truffles at half price!

The Bicycle-a love affair

2011-02-14T16:50:00.000-08:00

I still remember my first 'real' bicycle. It was an electric blue Supercycle with white walled tires, chrome fenders, a large chrome light and white hand grips for the 3 speed. We lived on the base in Ottawa and I rode my bike everywhere. It even had a white saddle and a fake leather bag for your tools. I even had a pump! I could patch a tire but my fix knowledge was very basic.

I remember my pride with that bike as I polished and kept it clean. I would ride up the hill in the hardest gear as I would go faster and ride it to Sir Wilfrid Laurier High School on Codds Road.

I was 15 when I saw my bike being wheeled away by a would be thief. I chased him and he dropped my bike!

That bike lasted a few years and when I worked at a bakery (at 19 years of age) from 3am onwards I rode that bike, with its light on to work at the then Dominion Bakery in St. Laurent Shopping centre every day for one entire exhausting summer.

I never lost my fascination with bicycles or my love of riding. Today that bike has long since vanished, although I have a gold 3 speed in my shed! The simple bike has been replaced by a racing bike, a touring bike and a beautiful steel commuter bike with a big light. I still polish the bikes and even after all these years, seminars and books, my fix knowledge is still basic although I can fix a flat.

Vive le velo!

Scent Free???

2011-02-04T08:29:00.000-08:00

I have been noticing a huge increase in signs in doctors offices, clinics etc saying "SCENT FREE ZONE". This is in an attempt to protect people who may be sensitive to scents. They advocate unscented deodorants, soaps etc.

When I enter a scent free zone, my senses are assaulted by the acrid unmistakable reek of stale tobacco smoke on some client's person. The reek lingers and is almost choking.

If they are so worried about someone using scented deodorant or soap...why not make a note to the cigarette smokers out there who stink from a considerable distance.

It seems unfair to require those of us who enjoy scented products to have to forgo using our clairol herbal essence shampoo while the tobacco offenders have no such restriction

Scent free is scent free that that means tobacco!

John G McKechnie RIP

2011-01-23T10:06:00.000-08:00

My brother-in law John died after a battle with liver cancer and Alzheimers. Although I am not there for the funeral, I wanted to share my memories of the Reverend John McKechnie

John McKechnie

A Canadian perspective, Reading, Lindfield and Chichester

When I first met John he had come to pick up Cyril and me from the airport. I was struck by his smile and his presence. He waited for us with his dog Toby. I remember thinking this was out of a movie. This was how we in North America imagine you Brits to be…unflappable, with a dog at your side, but there he was.

The dog stayed on the floor as we drove down what I thought were twisty narrow lanes but learned that these were fairly major roads. This was in Reading.

In Reading John impressed me with his control and love of Toby and his love for his family. I stayed in a small room above the garage. John’s life was so organized. He had prayer meetings, reading times and it appeared as if time stood still in that little house in Reading. Once Cyril and I borrowed bikes and John explained that there was a bit of a hill. I had not fully appreciated the British penchant for underestimation. While we North Americans are accused of hyperbole, the British are the opposite. We mounted the bikes, tall spindly things with wobbly cranks suited for their sons Andrew and Stephen. The seats I recall were instruments of torture and I stood for the ride. The ‘bit of a hill’ was in fact, a mountain! I spoke with John about ministry and prayers in general and even referred to his clerical suit as a prayer suit. He impressed me with his understanding of the needs of younger people in his parish and I recall thinking to myself this man may look like what we all expect clergymen to look like, but he is practical, down to earth and had an excellent grasp of people!

John told us about Roman ruins and in particular the ruins of a covered roman bath. There was only one and they had to write to Rome to get plans approved. Well there was the wall of it, being used for a sheep grazing field. That was another of my impressions of Britain, sheep. They may be no market in sheep wool…but the sheep are there.

Doreen made Sunday dinners and wonderful lunches and I was struck by the sense of calm and deep love that emanated from that house. I was also impressed with Toby fetching the mail!

Our next visit was in Lindfield. This is where I was introduced to central heating, or the lack of it. The vicarage was a carriage house and there was no central heating. No matter, it was May, the fields were full of bluebells, and primroses and the grass verdant…and the house cold. I had packed shorts and clothing suitable for a Canadian late May. I nearly froze. Cyril had not warned me that the ancient Britons spent most of their time in a deep freeze state! John was busy during our visit and my memories of him were mainly him mounting a tractor mower and mowing the vast expanse of grass attached to the vicarage like a country squire. In fact, I thought of him as a country squire..he had ‘the look’. He had routines with Doreen and tea times and once more when I was thawed enough to think, there was this wonderful sense of peace and calm in the McKechnie home.

Our last few visits with John were in Chichester. He did visit us in Canada and I will speak of those times. Here John took us for a walk on the downs and explained to us all about Fishbourne. He was to me, the picture of virile health as he strode with his long boots over the fields. Both Cyril and I loved hiking and this was a delight to me to walk among the chalk and flint and see the grasslands and the birds. He knew a lot about this as well. For John the world and nature was a delight. Once again he spoke about my interest in Roman ruins and told us about the palace in Fishbourne, which we visited on this time and once again. The mosaics are so impressive!

He produced ordinance survey maps for us, and tourist maps and explained to us where we could go. There was a lot to do and see in Chichester which itself is a beautiful place. John impressed me with his carpentry skills and his ability to make an extraordinary little garden out of a very small space. A man of many talents and strength. Again, I was overwhelmed by the sense of peace and order and tranquility, no matter what there was breakfast and there was tea.

On our last visit, John still had his routines but no longer engaged us in discussions about nature or Romans…soon after he was diagnosed with Alzheimers

John was also a Canadian white water explorer. Both of John and Doreen’s sons had come for a visit to us and Cyril and I provided them with the Canadian experience as we understood it which meant canoeing in Algonquin Park…(No not a tame park this is the wilderness) and white water rafting. I explained to John and Doreen that we would camp overnight and then hurl ourselves in a rubber raft down some pretty wild rapids. Well not in those words. We camped and one of my most vivid memories of John was him standing with his paddle in hand like a swiss pike, dressed in a faded blue wetsuit with his smile. He was ready! Yes! He had never done it before but no matter he was ready. That same British spirit I first felt when I met him with Toby. We had a blast.

We took them canoeing and were rained out! The British were used to rain, but me as the sole Canadian on the excursion got chilled badly and we had to cut short our trip to the wild. We have a painting Doreen made of the experience.

My memories of John are of peace, tranquility a great spirit and also his great love of Doreen. Bombs could fall, Canadians could visit, the Romans could invade…but he had his teas and his times where he would read and be with Doreen. The secret of a good marriage!

I am sure that John is walking again on his beloved downs and I believe Toby is beside him.

Don Carlo

2011-01-22T16:31:00.000-08:00

Religion unlike the simple bible tutelage of Winnie, takes a darker hue in Verdi's Don Carlo. Here the Church rules Spain and King PHilippe with an iron hand. The grand inquisitor in his red robes is the devil himself as he counsels the King to kill his own son Carlo to save the country. Phillip himself has launched a campaign of death against Flanders.

The singing was sensational. Roberto Alagna was Don Carlo, Ferruccio Furlanetto was outstanding as the King. His aria where he laments that his Queen never loved him was moving to the point of tears.

Anna Smirnova as the scheming Princess Eboli was splendid as the scheming and wounded tiger once Carlo rejected her love.

The star of the opera was truly Marina Poplavskaya, her lines were exquisite and pure and her regal bearing a delight to watch. She was sensational, as she sang if angels weep for her in heaven in the final scene in the monastary before the tomb of Charles V, I was half expecting angels to weep.

Simom Keenlyside was Rodrigo, Carlo's friend. He was wonderful. When he sang his dying aria and urged Carlo to be the hero and the saviour of Flanders I was in tears. He gave his life for his friend.

The Church was menacing and in Act III the King appears before the church. There is a scene where some heretics are to be burned at the stake. There is no mercy here, as with the Grand Inquisitor there is no mercy, The act ends with the King and Queen watching the flames burn the heretics.

Unlike Winnies God who accepts sinners and saves them, the God of Don Carlo and the Catholic Church is merciless and crushes all who oppose him, be it by flame, intrigue or sword.

4 1/2 hours of bliss!!

Girl of the Golden West Puccini

2011-01-22T16:23:00.001-08:00

Puccini's western masterpiece was at the metropolitan opera. Deborah Voigt the Wagner diva sang the lead role of Winnie, the salon girl with the golden heart. What a role, she rode horses, shot a rifle, broke up fights and tutored miners to read and to study the Bible.

She helped them write letters to their mothers,resolve fights and ward off the advances of Jack the local sheriff and gambler. Jack Vance has resolved to marry Winnie and every man is in love with her. There is a notorious bandit on the loose and Wells Fargo is going to get him. Rodriguez.

Rodriguez comes to the tavern and says his name is Dick Johnson. He and Winnie fall in love and in one of THE most romantic scenes ever he rides to her cabin and they sing outside the little cabin in the snow. Just beautiful.

He is discovered to be Rodriguez and she gambles for his life afer Vance shoots him in her cabin. She cheats and wins.

In the end, when Rodriguez is set to be hung, she saves him by imploring to their Christianity and sense that all sinners can be saved.

Voigt was stunning and Marcello as the dashing bandit terrific. The acting was wonderful...what a concept a western with glorious singing!

A true Christmas Miracle story in Elmvale Acres

2010-12-29T21:33:00.000-08:00

Over the Christmas season I visited my local nail salon. I love this little place, it is a family business, they make excellent vietnamese tea and coffee and I always learn a lot about culture, politics during my treatments. This time I had a new beautician. My nail tech Anna (not her real name) who was doing my pedicure was chatty and pleasant, she had a pierced tongue, a young child and a dog and clearly enjoyed her work. We exchanged pleasantries about dogs and the weather. Anna was young with a one year college diploma and I did not expect much in the way of a deep or profound conversation.

This is a very unusual nail salon. I almost always have a deep and meaningful conversation but I was sure that this time would be an exception. My server was pleasant and wore clothing a little too tight and expressed some unsophisticated opinions. As I moved on to have my nails done, I was the only customer in the shop. Ling was doing a complex french manicure Anna told us an amazing story.

She had two other girls saved some 75k over a period of years and build and founded an orphanage in Vietnam. Ling who is Vietnamese had tears in his eyes and I was speechless. She was not wealthy, nor particularly well educated but was moved by the plight of abandoned babies.

She then revealed that she and her husband have similar plans for an orphanage in Africa. They gather donations, never really advertise and somehow the miracle happens. Her husband came in to have coffee with her. He was a very young, modern looking man but not wealthy. He was teaching ESL in a local school to adults.

What struck me was the modesty and yet the immense scale of what she had done all on her own. While many of us who are in more fortunate positions whine and complain about the state of the world, Anna and her friends all of whom are of modest means actually did change the world, one baby at a time.

"Why don't you tell the world" I said to Anna, excited by her mission and very excited. Anna told me that her mission employed a widow lady who otherwise would be destitute and she runs the orphanage. Anna does not want publicity, it is known to a few. She does not want it to be too big. Anna went on to say that she does not tell people what she does and few suspect it, but decided to share it with me.

I found myself thinking of the Christmas story. This was announced to a few shepherds, it was a very low key event, much like Anna's miracles. I left the little salon with pedicured feet and pretty snazzy nails but also with my heart warmed and my spirit tremendously humbled.

Das Rheingold

2010-12-04T18:02:00.000-08:00

Yes I attended my first ring opera two weeks ago. I heard the metropolitan opera stage Das Rheingold. Robert Lepage designed a stage that was spectacular. Many of the singers were suspended and the stage itself allowed them to walk vertically at times. This was particularly good for the god of fire and trickster loge sung beautifully by tenor Richard Croft.

Wagners Ring series is like the Lord of the Rings, there are no cute arias but rather motifs. The opera begins with the Rhine maidens suspended and flapping their flippers singing about the gold when the gnome Alberich sung by Eric Owens appears. He steals the gold and makes a ring (sound familiar) that will give him great power.

Wotan, the chief of gods sung by Bryn Terfel has problems of his own, the giants Fasold and Fafner are demanding payment for constructing Valhalla. Wotan promises his daughter Freia to be wed to one of the giants as payment. Freia is horrified and her mother Fricka sung by Stephanie Blythe intervenes.

The entire opera is like reading a Tolkein novel, you enter into a world of gods, dragons, rings and promises and giants. The giant Fasolt sung by Franz-Josef Selig sings a very touching aria about the fact that Freia gave him light in his dark world.

There is a fantastic scene where Wotan and Loge enter the realm of Alberich, the land of the Nibelung far beneath the earth. You hear the clamour of hammers and anvils as they mine gold for the greedy Alberich who has enslaved them because of the ring.

This was my first taste of a Wagner opera and I loved it. Far from being entertained, or charmed (although I was thrilled by the staging) I was carried away to a land of mythology, with magic fruit that bestowed youth and vigor (I want one), the god of thunder, Donner (brother of Freia who swung his hammer and hit the stage causing lightening to explode in a thunder of music and brass!), Wotan, gnomes under the earth, giants and a magic ring.

I can't wait to hear the ride of the Valkeries in the next HD production. What a joy!

Don Pasquale ..comic genius

2010-12-04T17:52:00.000-08:00

Where else can you hear world class singing, follow stage antics, chases and patter songs like you have never heard before except in Opera.

Don Pasquale is one of Gaetano Donizetti's comic operas. Anna Netrebko, usually a more tragic singer is hysterical in the role of Norina, the femme fatale who teaches the greedy Don Pasquale a lesson he will never forget.

Netrebko masterfully sang her part while dancing and laughing and plotting with her brother Dr. Makatesta sung by Mariuz Kwiecien. Netrebko was hysterical as the demure nun straight from the convent, with pink stockings!!

John Del Carlo sung the role of Don Pasquale. His facial expressions, trembling lips, heart palpitations and comic affect were magical. His patter song with the doctor was astonishing. I have never heard a bass sing with such clarity diction and coloratura~ (in the base clef)

The opera danced merrily along and was immensely entertaining. James Levine himself conducted the orchestra, arguably the best opera conductor in the world.

What a treat! Well done metropolitan opera.

Training for a purpose

2010-11-16T13:28:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows that it is far more motivating to do something if it has a purpose. We look forward and we plan and we anticipate. I enjoyed the planning of many of my vacations.

For some reason, this lesson did not apply to me and my fitness. I bike and had a vague goal of getting faster or fitter but that is too watery and nothing really happens. This season, that has all changed.

I am working towards goals. My first goal is a week long race training camp in Cuba. There will be a lot of heat and a lot of hills so by February 27th I had better be ready. I am engaged in Cyclo Club which is a complete training program and believe me it is hard. The spin classes nearly kill me and the yoga left me crying for mercy. This is a good thing!

After Cuba, I will likely go to France in May for more biking to prepare for the Rideau Lakes tour in early June. Biking is like everything else, you need to have a focused and specific goal. France of course depends on whether or not I can secure some good working contracts to earn the euros to make it possible!

My goals are as follows: to lose a few more lbs and to increase my weight bearing strength and aerobic capacity. This is not achieved by treadmills but by specific neuromuscular routines that involve spinning in higher and higher gears at the same speed and giving your heart precious little time to recover. Tough but it works. At the end of my Cyclo Club workouts I am spent but feel I have accomplished something.

Having specific goals in mind has made cycling even more enjoyable for me as I now happily work on pedal techniques such as bullwhip and popcorn. I am also more aware of my upper body and go to the gym to increase my upper body strength and flexibility.

Years ago in a job interview (which I got) the interviewers were a little dismayed that all of my hobbies are physical and one handicapped interviewer asked what would I do if I were in a wheelchair. I gave a sensitive answer but the truth is,despite my intellectual interests, I would not be able to exist without the immense pleasure that my physical activities provide.

On to phase 1 of my training plans!

The Bicycle as teacher

2010-10-26T21:16:00.001-07:00

I have had a great 2010 cycling season. My bike has taught me many lessons of life. It is hard to believe that a machine can do this, but it does!

For many of my longer rides, there is a support van or a sag wagon. While these are advertised as wagons or vans to help you if you are tired, to me they are the vehicles of last resort, reserved for the infirm, the aged or the out of shape.

On the Bon Ton Roulet tour, I made the fatal mistake of stopping for lunch and having a few glasses of cool white chardonay wine made by the Blue Heron winery where I had stopped for lunch. The scenery was glorious, the wine cold and the lunch service very slow. I had a mere 30 miles to ride and a few hills and I scoffed it off enjoying the moment.

10 miles after, I started to slow down and came to a halt at the last rest stop. There was a hill and I had no more energy. My legs had become like stone trunks with no power whatsoever. Reluctantly I hailed a sag wagon.

The lady was a pleasant middle aged woman who was very kind. I was mortified. I made sure my bike was hidden by others and I slouched to make sure NO ONE I KNEW would see me. I kept shaking my head and apologizing. The other cyclist was thrilled with the ride and very chatty but I was simply devastated at my terrible performance on that day. I missed an opportunity because I was so focused on my lack of energy and shocked that this could happen.

Life is funny. I seriously considered going on but because of the wine, dehydration and plain fatigue I simply could not do it. There are times when my body says enough. I am learning to accept it.

In fact, I have learned a lot about my limitations this year with the bike as my teacher. I have learned, that I need to eat while I ride. No fuel=no power.
I have learned that I love to ride, but I also need time to enjoy what is around me. In the bon Ton tour, I stopped for a swim on several occasions. I have learned that it is not the destination that counts but the journey. The destination on our tours were always an anti climax, with the journey, the climbs and the scenery being more impressive. One of our days while cycling in Mennonite country, I had a yearning for Mennonite baking and lo and behold..there was a Mennonite horse and buggy and a stand selling fantastic baked goods!

I have learned that it is important not to overlook small things. One day on the tour before an enormous hill, there was a little girl advertising Kool aid. People were not stopping. I stopped and insisted that others stop too, threatening to jump in front of their bikes if they did not. The little girl was about 9 years old and had decided on her own to offer Kool aid to the bikers. She sat me down in her yard with a plastic table and chairs and poured me a glass of watery red kool aid. We chatted about school and sports and Canada and I thanked her and biked on. Sometimes we can get too focused on the unpleasant tasks (in this case the HILLS) and forget the joys and beauties around us.

I have learned that while going fast is a lot of fun, it is more rewarding to encourage others.

I have learned that my bike is not a horse and I don't need to carry an extra sweater, lunch options, a full tool kit, a full first aid kit, extra drinks a corkscrew and three extra inner tubes just in case! I am learning to be more of a minimalist on my rides and learn more about self sufficiency. The bike is an exercise in zen minimalism and the fundamentals of trust in yourself, in your fitness, in your abilities and in the way you interact with your world.

The bike is a great teacher because when you are riding, it is really just you and a splendid machine. There are no engines, no supports, just you and the road. You feel light and unburdened by things. You find yourself dwelling on what is present and your tensions, your worries seem to vanish like the road behind you. I love the quiet of my bike. I don't hear roars or hums just a steady whir of my feet on the pedals. I love the colours that I see, the grasses, the barns, the trees and the fact that I can go anywhere with my bike. My bike teaches me that limitations are in your imagination and that you really can think outside the box. A car is limited to the road, with a bike, you are limited by nothing but your own level of fitness.

Horror on the front page! Allo Police!

2010-10-20T14:47:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, our Quebecois neighbours would go to the local depanneur and pick up a copy of Allo Police. Allo Police contained lurid and sensationalistic stories about crime, murder and mayhem. Everyone knew Allo Police as not a serious journal and it never pretended to inform, only to satisfy curiosity.

I subscribe to the Globe and Mail and wonder with the recent coverage of Russell Williams whether or not the former Allo Police writers were contacted!

As all of us are, I am dismayed and shocked at the revelations of the Russell Williams case. There is no redemption in this story and no shred of humanity to be found except the heart wrenching pleas of the terrified victims before Williams brutally murdered them.

What is the purpose of reporting these horrid details? Is it to frighten people? Is it to further traumatize the families? The reporting of this story does nothing to honour the victims. Instead it plays on their final words and horrible ordeal.
If the story does not honour or even respect the victims and their families and has no redeeming value whatsoever why report it?

Surely our national newspaper has not sunk to the sensationalism of the now defunct "Allo Police"

Harper and the Chilean mine rescue

2010-10-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

Like many around the world I was transfixed by the saga of the trapped miners. I cheered and cried when they emerged. I was moved when I learned of their fortitude, courage and tremendous spirit.

I was most impressed by the President of Chile's attitude and speech tonight. He did not merely fly in for a photo opportunity, he was there with his people. His speech was remarkable, he spoke of the rescue as a miracle and that God was using this to bring his people together. He was proud to show the world what Chile could do, but also he spoke at length of the miners and what they taught the country and what they taught him. They taught him about courage, and he promised that he would improve the conditions of labourers in the country. It was a remarkable speech.

At a time when in Canada we have tasted defeat because of our own small minded attitude towards the world, Chile and the attitude of their President was like a shining star. The miners have much to teach us.

I doubt if our Prime minister Harper could ever have the strength of character and courage shown by the President of Chile. I doubt if Harper could ever learn from what the miners have shown to the world.

No, if the mining disaster had happened in Canada, Harper would have blamed the Liberals. He would have annoyed so many other countries that the world would not have shared their expertise as they did with Chile. Had the miners survived the political squabbling, he would not have spoken with the families, nor sung the national anthem (Remember he wanted that changed?).

Let us hope and pray for the sake of our country, that we learn from Chile.

Thanksgiving and the rise and fall of home cooking

2010-09-30T16:30:00.000-07:00

My childhood memories of thanksgiving were always about the turkey that my mother would smother in butter and roast slowly in the oven. It was always glorious and served with mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes. We even had cranberries. I never liked cranberries but I knew it was part of the dinner. In those days, sweet potatoes were only available around Thanksgiving. I looked forward to our Thanksgiving dinners and remember being driven almost mad by the tantalizing smell of the roasting bird when I lived at home.

In fact as a child, our food menu did not have the choice we have now. I can stroll into my supermarket and choose over 100 kinds of mustards. As a child there was French's mustard. I can have suishi, mexican, thai. When I was a child, tacos were considered a very exotic treat and not always available. In fact my culinary experiences were very limited!

It started with breakfast,for years I was served creme of wheat. It was white and there were invariably large chewy lumps on my plate. It was lukewarm and pretty horrible. I preferred red river cereal. The choices were creme of wheat, and red river cereal. Today, there are entire sections of our supermarket devoted to this genre of hot cereal. There are dozens of choices!

Eventually my father decided that cold cereal was easier and we had puffed wheat. If there was ever a boring cereal it was puffed wheat. A bag that was 3 feet long weighed a few ounces. It looked like pussy willows dumped in honey. It immediately turned to mush when you poured milk on it.

My mother always packed my lunch for school. I had deviled eggs everyday and it took me years to learn that deviled eggs are an appetizer and not a staple. My soup was invariably Campbell's creme of mushroom and I was convinced that mushrooms were tiny square little brown sponges. The little sponges would float in a sea of salty grey gelatinous material that formed the bulk of this soup. My lunch would be topped off with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The jam or jelly would always run over the sides and my sandwich would be a soggy mess.

For years my mother cooked dinners with various degrees of protest. Dinners were usually beef or steak of some kind, with the occasional pork chop. I don't recall eating fish. My father was always keen on innovation and gadgets and was the first to introduce us to Swanson's TV dinners. These marvels, came on a sheet of tinfoil with little sections for each food. The salisbury steak had its own section and the dry, tasteless selection was smothered in dark brown gravy. Next to it, was a section called mashed potatoes. The potatoes were smooth and covered with a stiff yellow oily film, presumably to mimic butter. There were a few peas and carrots and a desert of some sort, smothered in a jam like sauce. My father thought they were wonderful, they were fast and they were balanced they had desert. Gradually we saw less of his corned beef hash and our freezer filled with these processed horrors.

As I matured and left home, I came to realize that cooking on my own from 'scratch' gives much better and healthier results and my husband is also of that opinion. We never have puffed wheat, we have never had a TV dinner and certainly no can of Campbell's soup has ever darkened the walls of our pantry!

I have experimented with being a vegetarian and for the past few years eat locally and as much as possible organically. I try not to eat processed food of any sort. I buy Thai food and the occassional suishi dish. I make my own soups and my mushroom soup has large chunks of actual mushroom that swim in the savory broth that I prepare for my soups. I don't eat creme of wheat...ever, and my oatmeal is not chunky.

And yet, as we approach Thanksgiving, I find myself looking forward to a roasted turkey with sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes. My culinary experiences have come full circle!

biking jackets and rain SOLVED

2010-09-30T11:12:00.000-07:00

For anyone who cycles, there is a perennial problem with bike jackets and in particular rain jackets. If you wear a jacket and exert any effort you get wet on the inside. Wet and therefore cold!

If you don't wear protection, you get wet on the outside which will soak through. Wet=cold.

I have tried gortex, rubber, aquatech, vapour tec, soft shells and nylon shells of all sorts. I have had expensive rain jackets with sealed seams for commuters, waxed cotton cycling capes from the UK, Gortex jackets, jackets with zip off sleeves and ventilation,jackets with illuminite and even jackets with lights. I have also used very cheap ultra thin and lightweight jackets. After 3 years of research, I now have solved the problem!

The answer is a wool sweater. Wool is able to regulate your temperature far better than any artificial fabric. Polartec is windproof but will trap any moisture next to your skin, keeping you wet, nylon of any sort does much the same thing. I found the best way to stay dry and warm is to have a baselayer (I use Marks Work Wear house dry tech) followed by a wool sweater. If it does rain, you can put any kind of cheap nylon jacket on top and the moisture will be wicked by the wool away from your skin.

I went on a 65k ride yesterday. I had a baselayer and a wool jersey and was fine, whereas others complained of cold and wind, my combination worked perfectly.

So don't spend money on costly bike jackets. They are not worth it! Go to value village and invest in a few wool sweaters instead!

2010-09-17T07:19:00.000-07:00

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The way all bike tours should be

2010-09-12T16:38:00.000-07:00

This weekend I had the great pleasure of participating in the Ottawa Bicycling Clubs Summer End Century Tour. What a fantastic tour, from start to finish this was a tour worth doing.

The route is gorgeous. We cycled through small communities and splendid countryside en route to Cornwall. We passed sun dappled fields, herds of grazing cattle, horses and in one case a deer. The roads are quiet and the temperature not too hot.

We began at Kelseys which I can walk to. I decided to go with touring 2 and 130km. When you are riding with a group, it is better to go one up from where you can ride solo. In my case, I should have gone touring three. My group was wonderful. There was a former director Tom, John Reilly, Geotz, Gilles, Fletcher and a few others whose name escapes me. Riding in a double peleton as we do, enables wonderful conversations and the time flies.

A few hundred yards out of Kelseys John Reilly had a flat. I tried to help but had one tire iron and his tires appeared glued on. The others were ahead waiting but clearly puzzled. I walked up and explained we needed help. Tom and the others came back and John was set to rights as the group gave John a tire changing lesson.

Our first lunch stop on Saturday was in the Finch arena. We were served toasted bagels and given a banana and juice by an enthusiastic little girl and her grandmother. The little girl has a smile for everyone and seemed dismayed if someone did not want the banana!

This was my first exposure to NavCan. We approached the training site which is along the seaway. What a fantastic place. Our group arrived at 1pm and this gave us plenty of time to find our rooms, check out what is available. We met at outside patio and shared beers and stories. The weather was perfect, the scenery splendid, the site luxurious.

My room had a nice bed, desk, dresser and bathroom as well as a TV. The on site pub named the Jet set had a celtic motif, lots of beers and Karaoke.

Dinner was served near the dining hall. We had large round tables, with white linen tablecloths overlooking another garden and outside patio. Our dinner consisted of salad, roasted potatoes, lasagna, angel hair pasta, roast beef and stewed zucchini in a light garlic and butter sauce. For desert there was apple pie, blueberry pie, lemon meringue pie and assorted smaller treats.

We were served in elegance and our group congratulated each other on a great ride. At this point, I started asking people "why is this tour not more popular". I got various answers but none really satisfied me. Some felt $170.00 was too much. Well for great accommodation, great meals and a great weekend tour, I disagree.

After dinner I decided to check out the famous pool. What a pool. It is 25 meters long, with a working slide, lots of underwater sponge weights and after a swim of 5 lengths (Yes the lifeguard was laughing), I used the whirlpool hot tub. There is nothing like that after a ride. After the whirlpool...what else but the sauna!

There was also a fully gym with weights but by this time, 800pm it was time for Karaoke. I sang Titanic and a few more songs, had a drink and went to bed.

Breakfast was at 630 and the serving lady filled my plate with scrambled eggs, waffles and bacon. I topped it off with coffee and yogurt and was set to ride all day!

We left at 745 (this morning!) and rode at a minimum of 30km/hr. I had heard about the famous carrot cake with creme cheese icing at the OBC picnic in Russell and darned if I was going to miss that! We arrived at lunch at 1030, so it is brunch.

Unfortunately as we entered Russell there was a stop sign in town and gravel. I was leading but bikes were everywhere. I hesitated and fell, cutting my knee. Gilles came to the rescue (he is a ski patroller) and using my first aid kit restored me.

When we arrived at the marquee for the OBC lunch in a picnic ground we were greeted with cold cuts, cheeses, bread, lettuce, tomatoes, salads, juices and drinks of all kinds and....two huge dishes of homemade carrot cake. I had a piece...wow.

We arrived back at Kelsey's shortly before 1pm where I had a drink and spoke about the future of this wonderful tour.

As a first timer for this tour, I was very impressed! The food quality was very good. The picnic was wonderful, the carrot cake outstanding. The people I rode with were kind, helpful, lots of fun and were wonderful to ride with and socialize with.

Anyone who has not done this tour before is truly missing a great time.

Packing for Bike Trips

2010-09-10T10:34:00.000-07:00

After years of canoe camping and a fair amount of travel, I consider myself to be a good packer. I don't pack radios, or heavy books or anything that I will not use, I don't pack clothing for all occasions and yet invariably, my bag on any overnight bike trip is much bigger than anyone else's bag and at least twice as heavy! What is the reason for this?

I consider the following items essential

a) Good first aid kid
b) Bike repair kit, tools, inner tube and pump
c) A journal
e) sweater for cooler weather and a rain jacket
d) Comfortable shoes and change of clothing

On my last seven day bike tour I brought camping equipment in one bag and clothing etc in another. The clothing bag had wheels or I doubt if I could have lifted it. The camping gear was bulky and awkward but not that heavy.

How can cycling clothing made of lycra, nylon and spandex be so heavy? On the Bon Ton trip I even packed a polartec rather than my standard wool sweaters. Still, the bag was a challenge for me to lift!

I am left therefore with the following conclusions:

1) I need to vacuum pack my bags to give the appearance of a smaller compass and do more weight lifting
2) Other people bring one set of clothing and wash it each night in a sink, hoping it will dry
3) Other people rely on the shampoos and soaps available on site (school washrooms)
4) Other people have faith that it will never get cold and never rain, hence no sweaters or rain gear
5) Other people believe their bikes will never break down, hence no repair kit

If all else fails, I will bring my usual large and heavy bag but put a fake name on it and quietly collect it when no one is looking!

Cure for Stomach ailments

2010-08-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

In our pseudo-scientific age where anecdotal evidence is hailed as gospel and real research is considered old fashioned or too expensive, I am going to add to the confusion by presenting a cure for stomach ailments.

On Tuesday of this week, after having a salad on a bike ride (never eat salad), I got a stomach bug. Two days of rest and no food or very little, had no real effect and I despaired of completing my work assignments or of riding this weekend...UNTIL.

Until I developed a sudden urge in my famished state for Louis Pizza. Conventional wisdom would say that thick egg batter dough and mounds of cheese (I like plain pizzas) are the LAST thing you need when you are sick. I could almost smell the pizza and last night drove to McArthur Rd, and bought a small cheese pizza. Heaven!

Louis Pizza, for those of you who have never had it, is heaven. Even people who normally don't eat or like Pizza, like me are instant converts!

This morning, total cure. I am back to my my normal state.

MORAL OF THE STORY
In an age of no real medical research, or when pharmaceuticals are pushing new miracle drugs...listen to what your own body is telling you. Sometimes all it takes is a few slices of Louis pizza to set the world to right!

Magic bullet discovered!

2010-08-17T17:16:00.000-07:00

Eating while biking is a difficult thing for me. I find that although I hydrate enough, unless I stop for lunch, which I only do with others, I tend not to eat.

Many cyclists and runners use gels, with names like Hammer or Heed. I have laughed at these gels mocking anyone who tries to get nutrition in a gel form as simple minded. I did not believe that these gels could work at all, and their claims to provide energy and help recovery I thought were nonsense. I would shake my head at runners and cyclists who wore fuel belts with little bullet shaped bottles of gel stuck in them like a Mexican bandito's bandelero! I thought "how dumb can you be?"

That is, until today. Today on a glorious club ride with CCCTS, I tried my Hammer Rapid Energy gel with caffeine. I chose an expresso flavour. It tasted fabulous! The proof however came within a few minutes when I was fueled and not just with sugar that you get with gatorade or even my salt drinks but with real leg pumping energy. I flew up hills and felt fantastic.

After about 3 hours, I had another one.Same effect!

The gel did not make me sick or leave me feeling heavy. Sometimes if I even eat fruit, it sits on my stomach.

If there was ever a magic bullet for cycling this is it! Now it is off to buy one of those fuel belts!!!

Bicyling helmets and glasses

2010-08-15T10:09:00.000-07:00

I will never understand why people who ride bikes don't wear helmets. I have seen parents ride with their children, the children have helmets but not the parents. Do they assume that their heads will not get injured?

I have had two relatively minor crashes and in each case, after some damage to my elbows and knees I have heard my head hit the pavement. There is no damage, just a little 'toc' sound. (Yes, I replaced my helmet) I am sure that given the injuries to my legs and arms that my head would have been the worse for wear. I once had a concussion from not wearing a helmet so I am a convert.

Most bike riders do not wear sunglasses, thinking that this is an affectation for Lance Armstrong copycats. It is not! I came back from a seven day bike tour, and was surprised to find a 'chip' in my sunglasses after a ride, from debris tossed from the road no doubt. I was very happy that the chip was in my lenses and not in my eyes.

If you want to ride your bike, the minimum equipment you should have is helmet and sunglasses. I also recommend gloves but some people don't mind scraping their hands when they fall!

Latest bike death..leave God out of this!

2010-08-14T16:52:00.000-07:00

Ottawa has had yet another cycling fatality, this one a 53 year old cyclist who was pinned under an SUV in a residential area. What disturbed me about this story however was the religious overtones. He was run over by a religious evangelical, a Baptist who no doubt leaves Bible tracks in her midst. The paper interviewed her husband who said "They were praying for the victim" What bothered me the most was the comments made by the evangelical woman who ran over (and killed) the cyclist.
As he was pinned under her SUV he called for help and her response was "God will help you."

When I took first aid we are supposed to CALM the victim, not bring down the wrath of God! The evangelical then said 911 has been called. Why not give the man a Bible? Or quote scripture?

Evangelicals make me angry. They use religion in a trite fashion and believe God rescues the wealthy, swoops down and lifts cars...if you have but faith. Such hurtful comments especially to a dying man (Whose death the evangelical CAUSED) are an insult to religious people everywhere.

When will Evangelicals learn that they make a travesty out of religion by their misguided, hurtful and ill informed comments.

Leave God out of this folks!

MS 2010 Ride

2010-08-10T14:29:00.000-07:00

This year I had a team of some 22 riders who did the two day Ride for MS from Ottawa to Kemptville and back again.

I was on the MS bike committee, made numerous suggestions to the society, found sponsors for our uniforms and finally the ride day came!

After all of my preparation and work, the ride itself seemed almost an anti climax. That being said, the rest stops were well manned with loads of fresh fruit and coloured gatorade which certainly added to the excitement. On one rest stop there were even homemade cookies! The ride itself, even with the extension is fairly short.

Here are some highlights and some lowlights!

Highlights
The lunch at Rideau River Provincial Park is always a treat. Who can resist jellybeans, sausage, salad and yes coffee!

The idea of riding in a uniformed team was a lot of fun as many people commented on how great we all looked.

The ride itself is a lot of fun.

Lowlights
Andrew and I camped. I went to bed late but our campsite clearly became an unofficial kiddie corner with kids whining late into the night. I have no problem with small children, but there should be a designated area for them away from those who choose not to be inflicted with whining during the night. I went to bed late, when everyone was asleep.

Promo Items
I am a big believer in free promo items. I had provided a number of them and they did not appear. I should have distributed them myself

Coffee
Why is it that people mistake brown tepid water for coffee? Get the Italians or the Turks in there to show us what real coffee is all about.

Hidden Treasures
If you found the massage therapists, it was a treat!

The campfire was a lot of fun. I had a chance to have an in depth discussion with Dr. Mark Freidman about the liberation therapy. I also had some s'mores!

Hopefully we can keep our sponsors and get jerseys for next year. I think the fact that people had the minimum in their account made them complacent with regards to fundraising. Although they did not have to, there was a tacit understanding that they should fundraise above and beyond the minimum.

Hopefully the mysteries of MS will be solved before next year!

The Bon Ton Roulet, seven day bike tour of the Finger Lakes

2010-08-01T08:13:00.000-07:00

From Saturday 24th July until July 31st I was on the famous Bon Ton roulet bike tour. This is a very inexpensive bike tour that attracts riders from all over the USA and beyond. For well under $500.00, you have your meals and support provided. Here is the trip and my observations of the cultural differences between the USA and Canada

The Finger Lakes region is known for its lakes, hills and wineries. I have never seen so many wineries it seems every little patch of land is converted to a winery. There were farms for sale for their 'vineyard' possibilities. While their reisling wines are passable, the wines on the whole are pretty terrible. Visiting a winery like I did on numerous occasions is fun, but don't expect a good wine. On the other hand, their beer is fantastic and unheralded. This area could become known for its beer!

DAY ONE: HILLS AND HEAT
We arrived at the Auburn High school and set up camp. This was my first experience with a tent city. The breakfast is served by local community groups starting at 530. In the next morning, I got up, packed the tent, my bags and picked up my cue sheet. The ride was from Auburn NY to the village of Penn Yan. I took the long route of 76 miles. There was some climbing but not too much, The scenery was very lovely passing through farmlands and hills along the lake. The tour relies on paint markings on the road to tell you where to go. There are two rest stops, 15 miles from the start and 10 miles before the end.
The rest stops were themselves a cultural study. They had the usual water and gatorade and fruit but also a huge assortment of candies! From twizzlers, to suckers, chocolate to cookies of all kinds it is there!

The first day was very very hot with a lot of humidity. I drank a lot of my salty water and felt fine.
KEuka College where we stayed had some beautiful buildings and fantastic sports facilities. The town of Penn Yann itself is a delight and a study in small town USA Each little town or village had a nice post office, a church or two and an ice cream parlour. What more could you want? Your cultural, social and dietary needs!

Day Two PENN YAN To Naples: Wine, inns, firecracker cops and the barefoot cyclist

This proved to be THE climbing day of the tour.There was 37 miles of climbing for a route of 70 miles. The route followed a lake and went into the village of Hammondsport. Some very steep descents! Hammondsport was a charming village with a village green a church and a few antique shops and an ice cream shop. In New York Ice cream shops are splendid. Every little town has them and they are wonderful with hundreds of flavours. This one looked like the Malt shop that Archie and Veronica would have used with booths, swivel seats and old fashioned milk shake machines.

After Hammondsport came the mother of all hills. The rest stop today was at the Lakside resort which is an inn on the lake. We sat at tables and watched the boats and the sunlight on the lake. Today was especially hot and after the mother of all hills, I climbed further to the Heron Hill winery. I was rewarded with a great view and stopped for two hours with some friends I met from Indiana, Richard and Kari. We spend a hilarious lunch and I had crab cakes and three glasses of Reisling wine.

NEVER drink wine on a hot day on a long hilly tour. 10 miles after our lunch stop, with more hills and heat I passed the final rest stop with 10 more miles to go and more hills. I could not make it. I had to get a sag vehicle to take me the rest of the way.

At camp, I had a massage party for my bruised ego and a lesson learned about heat, humidity, hills and reisling wines!

Naples itself was a pretty little town, famous for its grape pie. I bought a small one and shared it with Jim. The bakery was a home, you knocked on the door and the top half opened and the bakers husband sold you a pie. The high school, like all was enormous with lots of facilities. The dinner was pretty terrible but the scenery, as always terrific.

Jim and I went to Toppers inn in Naples. This is an old fashioned hotel with winding staircase, old photos a piano and nice seating. It is the kind of hotel Jesse James would have liked. We sat on the patio and had some Yeungling beer. I watched an older man in a splendid white beard pedal his bike barefoot. He was neatly dressed and had a well maintained bike.

Back in Tent City in Naples there was more excitement, although by this time my tent was pitched far from the maddening crowd. I heard fireworks and assumed there was a celebration. Each night at the Bon Ton there was entertainment, tonight was a rock band who celebrated to the delight of the locals. One of the cyclists realized that there were youths throwing firecrackers at the tents. She was a policeman from Boston and chased them in her flip flops. She apprehended one of them, the others came back to rescue him. The sheriff was called with sirens blazing and parents were called. She strained a muscle and was unable to complete the ride but was known as the Firecracker Cop.

As I was sitting in my chair in tent city, I saw the barefoot man wheel his bike in tent city. I spoke with him. His name was Don and he was a local. He and I spoke of the joys of not wearing shoes and he was delighted to find someone who was of the faith. I hastened to add that I would not ride my bike barefoot. He walked on smiling.

It was at this point in my trip that I realized Americans dont recycle. They throw away. Where we went, there were mounds of garbage or trash. I spoke about recycling and it seems that New York state is far behind Canada and there is a massive re education to be done before it even hopes to be successful.

DAY Three: Naples to Geneva: Private college and the best meal ever~
After my experience yesterday, I decided to take the short route which was only 48 miles. There were again some hills and a climbing distance of 23.4 miles but overall it was pleasant. I stopped at the Onanda park for a swim. There was a lifeguard of about 17 who informed me that I could not swim as he was not in his chair. Like the other cyclists we ignored him. There is nothing like a swim in a lake during a HOT and humid and hilly ride!

We rode through a little town of West Lake which is lovely with another waterfront park. The parks are really beautiful, well maintained and just wonderful. There was nothing tacky about the state parks that we stopped at. I had expected RV's and campers but there were only tents and nice little buildings for people to use. Our rest stops were often in one of these log pavillions.

We were now in Mennonite or Amish country and I saw them in their horse and buggy. There were some whose religion did not allow them to use rubber and so their tractors had metal wheels. I could see their print on the fresh asphalt of some of the roads. The roads, unlike many in Canada, are in excellent condition with very wide shoulders. The Mennonite families are a delight. I often saw the children in the buggies with their straw hats and bonnets, or girls in the fields with their chickens. I was sorry they did not have a baking stand but I did find one on the last day to my delight!

By this time in the tour, I did not stop for lunch having learned my lesson the dat before. Instead I lived on watermelon at the rest stops and peanut butter and bananas! I got my gears checked by the bike repair man who also unstuck my brakes. My bike was restored.

We arrived in Geneva and stayed at Hobart college. Hobart college is a private college with tuition of 50k. The grounds are unbelievable like Cambridge in England. There were two soccer fields, football and beautiful pools. The residences were splendid condos overlooking a lake. I sat and watched as swallows ate the mosquitos (There were none) on the lake as the sun set. Geneva is a beautiful town.

The food at Hobart College was the gastronomical highlight of the tour for me. THe dinner was london broil, a wonderful salad, potatoes, green beans. It was superb so much so that I made sure to tell the chef. The desert for me was boston creme pie and homemade ice cream.

I was rather sorry to leave Geneva

Day Four
Geneva to Watkins Glen: Bad wine and interesting Pick up Lines

By this point in the tour, I should point out that the Bon Ton is about half men and half women. Jim was always long gone by the time I would have breakfast and invariably along the ride or during meal I would be joined by a handsome fellow who would ride with me or ask me out. Today was no exception. It was the Bon Ton PICKUP!

I rode with Bob Stanford who was an ULTRA cyclist having done Paris Brest and clocked countless miles. He had ridden across America on his own. By this time I also learned about the Ride Across Iowa and decided I would NEVER do that tour. 17.000 riders descending on small towns like a swarm of locusts and often going hungry did not appeal to me. I was told that you almost always are in huge packs, which is also unappealing. I struck that tour from my list of want-to-dos. Bob and I decided to do the short route but to almost race it. 48 miles of speed.

There were two rest stops, a swim stop and Wagners vineyards. By this point in the tour there were hundreds of winereries, every one who had a backyard stuck a sign and called themselves a winery! Wagners is one of the largest. The wineries have some hilarious names like Pompous bastard and Dr. Franks but there were also countless Chateaus. The Chateau's appeared to be clapboard buildings perched on tiny hills overlooking a few forlorn grape vines! Wagners was large and this was our rest stop. We had the usual assortment of fruit and drink and were encouraged to partake in wine tasting at Wagners.

The wine tasting man was a stout man who appeared bored and rattled through what he believed to be Wagner's finest. It was truly appalling! It is best described as Plonk or the kind of wine you would buy for a high school party if you wished to be sophisticated but had no idea what to buy. If you did buy wine, the tour would deliver it back to your destination so you did not need to carry it. The gatorade at the rest stop (the orange one) tasted far superior to Wagner's plonk!

We cycled to some falls but could not swim and went on to our destination which was Watkins Glen. Watkins Glen is famous for Nascar but is an unremarkable little town. We stopped at the local beach for a swim. Bob wanted to go out with me but soon learned I was happily married but I introduced him to Judith the other KNBC rider. Judith was not interested.

That night Jim, Judith and I walked to the only pub in town. It was called the Crooked Rooster and was a brew pub. I had the firehouse red. The beer in Upper State new york is outstanding. They should concentrate on this and not the wines! Leave wines to others!

The day was very humid and hot and we returned to tent city in lightning. It rained and rained that night. I stayed awake worried that my tent would collapse or leak or both. I slept about one hour.

DAy FIVE: Watkins Glen rest day: secrets from the women's washroom

Today was the day of the century ride but I was too tired. Many people chose not to ride and I learned the reason why in the ladies washroom!

By this time people were saddle sore and many used chamois creme. The cremes came in tubs and were plonked down on the washroom sinks. There were names like Butt Creme, and udderly smoooth. I had never seen it before and thought it was a form of kinky sex aid! You apply this vile stuff to your shorts or your private parts before a ride. It is supposed to prevent sores, chaffing etc. This is because people insist on riding with horrible saddles that are made of plastic and do not give. The only thing that breaks is your buttocks! Why people want to torture their posteriors on such saddles is a mystery to me. I have a tensioned leather saddle, a brooks. It is as comfortable as my armchair and I don't even need to wear padded shorts let alone even think of the Butt Cremes! Why won't people learn!

There were many bikes on the tours. Recumbents, Friday bikes, a single speed (Yes a single speed), a bike with a motor for the hills, and a bike that was retro. He had tweed and leather bags, leather hand sewn handlebar tape and handmade leather touring shoes. I have seen the shoes before but they have laces. Mike had a nice bike though! There were pink Cervello diva bikes, numerous Trek Maradonnas and lots of heavy touring bikes. The average age was at least 58 years old. Were I to do the tour again, I would take my touring bike as I really needed that granny ring!

Since I had missed the century ride, I did a short 50 mile route which took me well into Amish country. I passed by a mennonite (Amish?) Schoolhouse with its whitewash and boys and girls outhouses. What a contrast to the huge and well equipped schools and campuses that I had seen. Simple and plain. I also watched a mennonite boy in workboots and a straw hat on a beaten bike with a broken fender and no gears, ride up a hill past huffing and puffing cyclists bedecked in lycra jerseys of all colours and sizes.

The size of the cyclists surprised me. Many were slender and lean but there were some who were very ample in girth. I have no idea how they made it up the hills! These larger folks were usually concerned about the weight of their bikes!

My short rest ride as great and I returned to Watkins Glen at 11am and did my laundry. It was my first time in a laundromat! That is an experience!

For dinner Judith and I met with Donna and Lynne and we went to the Stonecat restaurant, organic food. It looked good but all I could afford was a small soup and salad. Donna was 78 years old and would ride part of the way. She and Lynne who was younger would stay in Bed and breakfast. They told us about their bike adventures and we had a pleasant dinner.

Day six: Watkins Glen to Courtland; Getting lost and MOOSEWOOD

After a day of rest, I took the long route some 85 miles. I actually did closer to 97 miles but there is a reason. I had now learned to rely on the paint markings on the road and would also look for other bikers. We all had licence plates on our bikes identifying us as tour members as well as green identity bracelets. Thus I did not take a cue sheet. They always would get soaked and disintegrate with the sweat. The day was much cooler today and I should have taken one.

The tour today took us to a golf course for the rest stop and Ithaca New York, home of Cornell university and the famous moosewood restaurant. The last rest stop would be the bird research centre, sapsucker woods in Cornell.

The ride commenced with about a 10 mile climb and many more to follow. The scenery took us along ridges and a lot of beautiful dairy farms. You could smell the hay and the clover as you rode along. We had a LONG downhill to Ithica which is a city that sits in a basin. We rode on busy streets which was stressful and I found my way to Mecca...or rather moosewood.

Moosewood, home of the iconic cookbooks, there it was. I had a seat at the bar and had a bowl of cold gaspacho soup and lemonade. I spoke with a patron called Nancy about the arts and blissfully enjoyed my pilgramige to Mecca. It was superb. I told the owner about Bridgehead who serve Moosewood soups. I thought she would be thrilled but she was not. Bridgehead does acknowledge Moosewood but Moosewood was not impressed. I bought a T shirt.

The ride to Cornell is UP UP UP hill. A goat could not ride those hills! Once we left Ithaca, I made my first wrong turn. It was a beautiful country road with one way bridges. I realized my mistake and backtracked.

We continued to climb passing splendid scenery and fields along the lakes. The second rest stop was at the bird sanctuary or Sapsucker woods. This was very impressive with viewing areas for the birds, a heron nesting ground and a large hawk who entertained us at 230 by swooping down and capturing a mouse. We wanted to tip him!

The long route I took had about 40 miles in total of climbing but the scenery was breathtaking. I found I can run up a hill and try to keep my cadence steady. Alas I run out of gears and rather than wobble like a drunken sailor I dismount and walk. This was the day I did some interval work and rode up as fast as I could and rode as fast as I could for 14 minutes. I roared up a hill and felt my heart beat as if it would jump out of my chest. I slowed down and the heart thanked me!

Lots of fun!

I got lost again but this time discovered a great ice cream place called Toad Too. In the middle of nowhere but they had over 100 flavours and great signs. I ordered a soft ice cream with custard and licorice flavour. How wonderful. I had gone some 7 miles out of my way, but found the paint again and resumed my way.

At the end, I did close to 97 miles.

This last night there was a party with a DJ and the dinner was a fish fry. IT was great. Fish fry and all the Yuenglings beer you can drink. You cant beat that. IT is a fundraiser for the YMCAS and I suggested ways they can make more money

Last day: Cortland to Auburn and Mennonite Baked Goods
This was a 45 mile ride. Very short, some good hills and wonderful scenery. The best part of this day was a sign saying fresh baked goods. I stopped, and there were many others to see two old older Amish women in a cabin selling baked goods.

Pies, breads, cookies and cherry turnovers. I bought the later. It was fantastic! After a week of cafeteria food, real food was treat! We rode on up some inclines and I walked up one long long hill and took numerous photos. It is very hard to capture what you see, it is mainly and experience.

Packed and drove home.

HIGHLIGHTS AND WHAT TO BRING AND WHAT NOT TO DO
This is a wonderful tour but you have to be in very good shape. The hills make our Gatineau Hills look like small speed bumps. A granny gear is pretty well essential because you cannot keep a good cadence with a compact and with the distances you risk pushing too much with your knees.

The base stations where you camp have great massage therapists. I had two massages.,..well worth it and fun!

Camping and Tent City
I brought my own tent but bought a towel service from Comfy Campers as well as coffee. A clean fluffy towel every day and good coffee are essential. It is best to camp far away from the loading trucks and center because you will be keep awake by people who are packed up by 5am.

I brought a really good mattress...also essential~

Wines
Don't go for the wines. Enjoy the scenery but dont drink

Drinking on a hot ride
Nope, alcohol dehydrates you and drains your energy

Single ladies
I was averaging about a pick up a day. I am not sure this is usual as I asked around. Maybe it was because I was always in a great mood!

Bags
Paint up your bags. There were 600 riders and finding your black bag among hundreds of others at the end of a ride can be a chore!

Tools etc
bring them. I destroyed a valve on my inner tube and had to replace it.

Price
At $435.00 US for two meals a day and a fully supported tour, this price cant be beat.

People and overall experience
The volunteers, the staff the other riders are all wonderful. I left with a lot of photos, a finer waistline and a lot of email addresses.

Baby boom on Wingate Drive

2010-07-18T08:08:00.000-07:00

I live on a quiet residential street. The days when the street was crawling with children is over apart from younger families moving in. Despite the lack of human children, Wingate is having a baby boom.

Our yard is full of baby birds, cardinals, chickadees, crows and a hawk family. The hawk family is very impressive and the crows wait for my neighbour Claudia to feed them almonds!

When I have my coffee outside, I am serenaded by a chorus of baby birds and I delight at watching them learn to fly and land on small branches which bend under their weight. Our yard has a pond and so there is always water, and of course plenty of bird feeders with assorted seeds to entice the youngsters. When the parents return to feed them, there is always a racket especially with the baby crows who seem to resent being treated like children and made to eat their suppers!

Our little tree was home to Henry the baby crow for a few days, until he learned to fly a little better and moved, presumably to my neighbours yards for almonds. I only fed them peanuts! Almonds are much nicer after all.

Crows are fascinating birds. I watched as one Crow dipped a morsel of hardened bread into a bird bath to soften. Claudia's pet Crow waits for her to feed him his morning snack of almonds.

Chikadees are the explorers and quickly discover all of our bird feeders. The more conservative birds have avoided our new feeders, but Chikadees are free thinkers and quickly tell the other birds about their latest conquest and discovery.

The Cardinals for the most part, rely on their looks. They appear to be the 'dumb blondes'. They enjoy being admired but when it comes to things like feeding themselves or exploring they are at a loss.

Summer is wonderful!

Bastille day and a French garden party!

2010-07-15T19:53:00.000-07:00

As a French woman who married an Englishman, I have always been intrigued with our fascination with food, and the English indifference to it.

Samuel de Champlain brought a chef with him from France as he explored and Louisburg was known for its cooking. I am not sure if he had a chaplain with him as the English or Spanish did, but he sure had his cook! In contrast the poor English who were stationed in Fort Henry had to live on boiled potatoes, spruce beer and some salty meat.

When Cyril and I used to canoe camp in the wilderness we were always struck by the difference between wild sites in Quebec versus Ontario. The Quebec sites had glorious fire pits and log seating but little sanitation. The Algonquin Park sites had great outhouses but pathetic fire pits and certainly no log seating.

Yesterday was Bastille day and I was at the French embassy. It was a celebration of food, with ice sculptures displaying delectable meringue cakes stuffed with fruit, there were masterful artistic displays of carved fruit and vegetables, beautiful cups with red white and blue sherbet, a hot and cold buffet and mountains upon mountains of cheese. There was a children's tent with colorful candied apples, jars and jars of assorted candies and caramels, chips and water. As for the adults, while the water did run out, the wine never stopped flowing!

For the champagne there was a beautiful cake with the French flag on it. The entire affair was a feast for the eyes and the stomach. There was also a group of chamber musicians playing Bach and a choir to sing. Wonderful.

I have been to similar affairs with the English. There are lots of speeches, a few monuments, an unveiling of something or other, and the food, if there is any, is never presented with such artistry and delicacy as do the French. The closest thing the English have to a French garden party is English high tea. English high tea is nice but has many rituals and traditions. The French garden party for bastille day seemed to celebrate only one tradition...and that is pleasure and gastronomy. All French are free to enjoy the pleasures of the vineyard and the table at this party!

The French truly understand that living and food is an art. Anyone who had taken a bite from a blue blanc rouge meringue biscuit while admiring one of the four melting ice sculptures with a glass of wine in hand will surely know what I mean!

How hot was it today? I worried my tires had melted!

2010-07-11T20:05:00.000-07:00

Today I led a KNBC ride from Arnprior to Norway Bay and back. The heat was blistering and the humidity higher. I had two large water bottles. I drained them three times, drank at least a liter of water, had lemonade, coffee and a beer.

The ride itself is beautiful. We rode along scenic roads to Norway Bay. Well scenic. At Portage Du Fort there is construction with paving. I rode on fresh pavement. Memo to self...NEVER do this in hot weather. Our tires got coated and there were concerns that our tires actually melted. That is how hot it was.

At Norway Bay we stopped at the Pine Lodge. The S4 riders had ridden there earlier and had left one S4 rider , David who told me there was no food. The other riders, Linda and Bruce had simply decided not to stop and hammered on. I went into the restaurant and in short order. 6 wonderful wraps were produced or chicken, bacon, lettuce and cheese. They were great but I was not hungry.

Our ride speed was 27-32 km/hr. By the time lunch was produced, I did not feel like eating. I still don't and it is now 11pm. I hydrated and took eload tablets for heat stress. I even went for a swim at the beach at the Pine lodge, albeit short.

One of our riders, Nancy was having a hard time on the hills and with the heat despite our taking breaks in shady spots. Her face was dangerously red and I loaned her a buff to wear around her neck which I soaked in cold water. Tim and Steve and Irene seemed fine but all I wanted was more cold drinks.

I am not sure how to handle a longish ride in the heat but this is what I have learned.

1) Take it slowly, while riding fast was a lot of fun I think it put extra strain on us. We rode in a paceline to conserve energy. A paceline or a peleton is really the way to ride. It was a new experience for two of our riders.

2) Hydrate more. Before I rode from Arnprior I should have already consumed a few liters of water or electrolyte drinks

4) Despite wearing tour de france socks, I am not a tour de france rider and the ride was for pleasure..slow down Karine

5) It is harder to ride in high humidity and heat than the cold. With the cold, you get numb and shiver but you warm up with a hot meal. I find with the heat it is harder.

The ride itself was a wonderful ride taking us through farmlands, fields of barley and oats, and of course into the Pontiac region which is really lovely.

Petrie Island a hidden gem

2010-07-09T05:11:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, as a result of a canceled bike trip, I took my Mother to Petrie island in Orleans. At first I was skeptical as I knew that the City had built a beach. I was expecting Moonies Bay in Orleans. I knew it was 'developed' and thus expected concession stands and the usual commercialization that follows development.

What a surprise. Petrie island is a nature preserve with trails, beaver lodges, an island for turtles, an interpretation centre and a lovely beach. It is clean and understated. There are two beaches that I found. The first, the larger beach is spacious with a volleyball court. The smaller is more private and shaded.

My mother and I set up at the larger beach. I put up a large Canada umbrella, and a chair for her and I went for a swim. My swim mask was not quite adjusted but my fins worked wonderfully. There were bouys to mark the end of the beach and I swam beyond them. No sooner had I come in then there was a moron on a ski do, roaring beside the bouys waving and proudly displaying the fact that he is further adding to pollution both with gas and with noise. It was as if he was saying "Hey folks look at me..isn't it wonderful I am ruining the planet and your experience with my shiny new toy which serves no function other than to annoy!"

The trails in Petrie island are suitable for biking and hiking and are well marked. There was an artist positioned near one of the trails putting finishing touches on an oil painting of the area.

When we were there, it was as if we were miles from anything although we were only 20 minutes from my Mother's home.

For those of you with children, I don't think you can do better than Petrie island. The little interpretation centre has books, displays, stuffed animals and a few skulls. It is large enough to engage even the most energetic youngster and the more academic minded could easily spend an afternoon looking at the books and displays and going out to find turtles, or beavers or warblers.

What a find!..Did I mention there is no admission fee?

Uniforms and sizes and the difference between men and women

2010-07-01T20:38:00.000-07:00

I recently ordered 25 uniform sets for my bike team which has both men and women and made several observations. The manufacturer suggested that I get height, weight, waist and chest sizes for all of my team.

Now for a man, weight is what appears on the scale. No more no less. While they may wish to weigh more if they are bulking up, or a little less. They reported their actual weight.

A woman uses the same scale, but reads it differently. Women will report their hoped for weight or their wished for weight and argue they can squeeze into the uniforms.

A man will take his waist and chest measurement with no explanation. A woman will once again provide the measurements they want and once again, hope for the best.

The women on my team are educated and career minded. Yet they too have been unduly influenced by images of what they should look like. We should all look like Katherine Hepburn, or Halle Berri...or a Bond girl and so we project this and rather than giving a true measurement we project and hope.

The men's uniforms all fit. The only exception is for those men who are stout and short, or tall and thin. The women's uniforms are a different story. I have heard of shorts being too small, when there is not enough room for a molecule of water to get through the space between short and skin, jerseys being too large when again they are stretched to the limit and on and on. I suspect that the reason for this is because the women provided me with 'approximate' or hoped for measurements. Those who were honest, have uniforms that are a perfect fit.

a REAL conspiracy against women!

2010-07-01T20:19:00.000-07:00

For all you conspiracy theorists out there, and you know who you are, here is an real conspiracy.

When I purchase cycling clothing, I am always attracted to the beautiful colours of women's jerseys and shorts but appalled at the high price and the terrible fit. I am 5'6". I do not have unusually long legs or stovepipe arms, I weigh 148lbs, so pretty average size. Yet women's cycling jerseys are invariably too short and the arms are made for someone with no muscle in their arm whatsoever, ie stovepipe arms. A lot of women, myself included wear sleeveless jerseys but when the sun is really hot, I prefer a sleeve. Even a capped sleeve, but a sleeve of some sort.

The shorts are even worse, while they are short, which is good, the bib shorts are far too expensive and the short selection limited. I have asked high end bike shops and their excuse is the market is smaller. Well, that is a good way to ensure that the market stays smaller.

Here is a tip ladies. There is NO difference between men's bib shorts or shorts and ladies other than the pad. The difference in the pad is not significant and in fact I find men's padding more comfortable and more forgiving.

As for the jerseys, the women's jerseys are far too short, the men's are a much better length and quite frankly better made.

I have found that this discrimination against women extends in other areas of women's fashion. Dress pants are a good example, why do women's dress pants have such TEENY pockets, poorly stitched seams and inferior belt loops? Simple, women have come to expect shoddy quality as a matter of course. Women's shirts are even worse. If they fit on the chest they are too long etc. I am not sure who or what they model shirts on, I suspect it is a giant sloth but I have no proof just suspicion.

We women do most, if not all of the clothing purchases. If my husband is any indication, most men would rather die than shop for clothing. Thus, we are a significant force in the market. Why then do we put up with inferior quality and overpriced clothing and sports gear?

Historically, women made their clothing. That is why tailors made men's clothing as it was assumed that women could sew their own. That was a LONG time ago. I think that the manufacturers should wake up.

Cyclists and Drivers

2010-06-20T21:30:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I rode from Perth to Elphin and Maberly and was so impressed with the bucolic beauty of the route and the rolling hills that I decided to repeat this ride.

Emerson and I left Perth at around 1030 and soon found ourselves on the quiet roads and verdant pastures of Lanark county. The traffic was almost non existent. The cars that we did see were remarkably polite. Rather than roaring past us with horns blasting they would wait until we signaled and give us a wide berth. In Ottawa, I am used to drivers who will see how close they can come to me, or blow the horn or both. I am used to impatient drivers, their windows open, snarling and glaring at traffic and staring malevolently at we cyclists whom they see as a direct threat to their horsepower!

I had assumed that the reason the Lanark county drivers were so much better was because the Perth chamber of commerce had done an excellent job in educating drivers and after speaking with an owner of a lone corner store, was even more impressed with the quality and caliber of the drivers of Lanark County Ontario.

On June 5th and 6th some 2000 cyclists descend on this part of the world for the Rideau Lakes tour. There are some serious cyclists and many Lance Armstrong wannabes. The shopkeeper complained of the fact that the cyclists take up the entire road, do not let cars pass and slow up traffic to the point that her business suffers. No wonder the drivers were pleased with Emerson and I, we signaled our intentions and did not take up the road.

The drivers responded favourably.

Sometimes I think we cyclists rail at drivers and attribute all the ills of the world to them without thinking our behaviour in many ways dictates how a driver will respond. Today while driving my car, I saw a cyclist, no helmet riding down the wrong way on Ogilvie Road, which is very busy. How is a car supposed to react to that? No wonder drivers get upset! I was upset and I was not even near this moron!

The moral of the story is if you act like an idiot you will be treated like one.

Biking and Whitewater rafting..what a great combo

2010-06-18T18:01:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, June 17th several of us from the MS bike team, namely Barb Wilson, Tom Seniuk, Tim Sparling, John Ross and myself embarked on bicycle to River Run near Renfew Ontario. Our bags were being driven and we had only ourselves and our bikes and the glorious open road. After lunch in Arnprior, the skies darkened and the rain that had been forecast seemed inevitable. I put on my rain jacket.

RiverRun is a family owned white water rafting company that kindly sponsored us as a team to raise money for MS. We rode out on Wednesday some 116km and spent about 2 hours in the pouring rain. By the time we arrived at Storyland near Cobden, I wanted to have a cup of tea with Alice. It was not open but we were directed to a little gas station and store called JR's. They had chairs and John, Barb and I nursed our chocolate milks while we dripped all over the counter. Some 5km from RiverRun I phoned them and asked them to put on hot coffee. We signed our waivers, quaffed coffee and went to the Milk House soon joined by Tom and Tim who had taken a longer route.

The Milk House is a very comfortable accommodation with fridge, stove, shower, double futons, a fenced yard and a screened porch. Our bikes were put in a little porch and I got changed.

We had enough wine and snacks to last many days and Tom had brought movies and a book. The River Run staff brought dinner to us, and we had pork, salad, vegetables, lemonade, tea and desert. It was at this time that I met Norm a 59 year old weathered New Zealand rafter. I invited him in for a drink as it was obvious that Barb was very nervous about rafting. Norm proceeded to both allay her fears and terrify her. He patiently answered all of her numerous questions.

The next morning, we walked down the road, past farmers fields and in glorious sunshine to breakfast. Our sodden clothing and shoes were left in our fenced yard. After breakfast, Norm gave a safety lecture telling us about ropes and paddles and what happens when the raft flips over. Barb was ashen at this point. We proceeded to pick up our helmets and paddles and were driven to the start point. There was another group of about 12 in a larger boat. We were in a small boat for extreme rafting.

Within a few minutes we approached our first rapid, a roar of water in pristine wilderness. Tom and I were in the bow of the boat and we paddled. I fell out of the boat, or was rather ejected. The video shows Tom almost went with me. The current was swift and Norm threw me the rope and hauled me in like a large fish. I had done rafting before and was never thrown. My confidence a little shaken we went on to the next rapid after some surfing in the first rapid. We watched colourful kayaks dance in the rapids.

The next rapid was larger and this time the entire raft flipped over. I found myself, as Norm had warned underneath the little yellow raft, gasping. I grabbed the rope and found John close to me. Norm righted the raft and gave me a paddle to grab, I gave my paddle to John and we were pulled by Norm back to safety.

This section of the river is beautiful with rocks and pines. It was clear how low the water level was. On the next rapid, Norm remained on board but all of us were thrown overboard..great fun.

The rafting was fairly strenous with a lot of hard paddling and tense moments.

We ended our day at 3pm and watched the video. I did not see the video as I walked back to our cabin to return my wetsuits that I had loaned to Barb and Tom. I hung them to dry. I purchased the video and watched it that evening.

The group was with Norm in the patio of the little pub and bar that is on site. River Run has a very large site that is not overdone and is very tasteful and comfortable. It was good that they had Norm guide us as we all felt very comfortable with him and his knowledge and vast experience. He was an exceptional guide.

We were told that dinner would be sent to our accommodation and it was, ice cream, salad and chicken kebabs. I washed it down with vodka lemonade and of course more wine. We watched the video and a movie Tom had brought, the Italian Job, a good caper movie with Donald Sutherland. (The first night we watched Catch me if you Can)

The River Run staff was exceptional with us and I can not think of a better place to raft. I have tried Owl and Wilderness Tours and was most impressed with River Run.

This morning, River Run drove us all to a local restaurant for breakfast before we rode back to Ottawa. :Larry told us about his fathers beef farming and we passed glorious farms. The breakfast was terrific! We went back to pack only to find that RiverRun had given us all T shirts.

We mounted our bikes for the ride home, except Barb who was waiting for Caroline to give her a drive, thrilled with our two days. We passed fields of sweet clover and grasses, hills, old barns and farmers on tractors. John and I rode ahead as Tim was waiting for Tom, John and I stopped at East Side Marios in Arnprior for lunch and shortly after (Some 40 minutes) were joined by Tom and later Tim. Tim had a sore knee from rafting and the four of us rode home to Ottawa.

The Ottawa Valley is beautiful, quiet and the rafting put on by RiverRun second to none!

Organic food markets..dangerous to your health!

2010-06-12T10:36:00.000-07:00

Ottawa is blessed with a variety of farmer's markets one of which is the organic farmers market.

The organic farmers market is crowded and inefficient with produce on the ground or the floor. The customers are the most unhealthy looking and sorry collection of individuals, with masks, complaints of allergies to the air, trees, gluten, milk etc etc. They complain, never smile and delay the already long lineups by reciting their litany of health complaints to the vendors. I am sure most of their health problems are because they are so unhappy. They blame the food and the air and the trees but they have to look to themselves.

There are a few meat sellers but they are pariahs as most of this pasty and flabby crowd are vegetarians. I brought my dogs and was told it was offensive as this was organic food. I was very tempted to say that organic means natural fertilizer and it is likely that the lettuce has cow manure on it and they should not worry about a few dog hairs. But these folks are allergic to life and for the most part miserable!

The vendors for the most part are also unfriendly, all the while selling their goods at inflated prices. I go to the farmers market to purchase milk and eggs but cant wait to get out of there! I find myself tense and impatient waiting in line with these people. The atmosphere I swear was dangerous for my health and I will not be back!

What a relief to attend the market at St. Paul university. Here the vendors are friendly and cheerful. The customers are pleasant and purchase their strawberries or cheese without a long litany of woes of what they can and cannot eat. The customers bring their children and their dogs...(I bring mine as well) and you can engage in conversations and learn about organic farming. Yes they have organic farmers as well.

The produce is well displayed, there is none on the ground, there is face painting for the kids and the atmosphere is pleasant and relaxed. Oh and the dogs? They were given cookies and admired by the vendors and the customers alike.

How is it that by calling something organic, without proof, strewing a few weeds on the floor and by being surly inefficient slow and unfriendly can you charge so much for your 'products?' How is it that customers come at all for such an unpleasant atmosphere?

The moral of the story for vendors is as follows, call yourself organic, be slow, disorganized and inefficient. Call some miserable people to tie up the lines and complain and then triple your prices. You don't need extra staff, even cleanliness. It is all in the attitude~

Weekend to End Women's Cancers 2010

2010-06-06T14:49:00.000-07:00

If there is one lesson that can be learned from this soggy weekend to end women's cancers it is to be prepared. The weekend was a textbook example of what can happen when you are not prepared.

I began today looking at the sky and thinking it would stop, the rain that is. As I rode at 600am to the start point, I began to have doubts but carried on. It is not that I do not have rain gear, I have a British waxed cotton cycling cape, rainproof ware, gortex jackets...even waterproof booties. As for the cold, I have a closet full of sweaters and polartec fleece. As an afterthought I put on a wool cycling jersey thinking I can always take it off. For a jacket I wore a water resistant one. Memo to self water resistant means useless.

As I rode off with the walkers, I was following some marathon walkers, it became obvious that I was in trouble as I started to freeze. I asked the car sweeps to go to my house, close by and pick up my cape..no luck. My husband met me at St. Paul university where I donned it. My water resistant jacket was by this time, a soggy mess. Now I was dry somewhat but was dangerously cold!

My walkers did not stop and when we returned to Carleton, I was almost numb. I went into the medical tent to lie in a sleeping bag wrapped in tin foil. There were plenty of tin foil therma blankets. An elderly woman came in shortly after me almost blue with cold and wet.

The medical people had to use their own personal sleeping bags and blankets. They had not prepared for cold and wet. They had plenty of materials for heat but nothing for cold. I offered and did bring blankets from my home to assist. Apparently there were more blankets in a truck somewhere. Why not just call the St. John's ambulance?

The organizers were also completely unprepared for the cold. They gave us ice cream at the end of the walk and at each rest stations there were plenty of ice cold drinks. No hot drinks to be seen! The volunteers were shivering, clad in tin foil and making sure the drinks stayed cold.

The day remained cold and wet. How hard would it have been to get large containers of coffee to the pit stops? For that matter why was Starbucks or Tim Hortons not contacted before hand to provide coffee at the rest stops?

Like me the Cancer Foundation folks were totally unprepared. Unlike me, their lack of preparedness affected close to 700 walkers and could have had serious consequences. I am particularly prone to hypothermia and know the symptoms very well!

The weekend was an colossal example of how not to run an event. I was on the caboose team, who ride with the walkers. We were issued nearly useless radio-cell phone-walkie talkies. All but useless. When you did reach dispatch...they did not know radio signals. There was no way of knowing if they copied you, or received the information...no 10-4s...fiasco. The radio-cell phones rarely worked at the best of times and on a bicycle were totally useless.

On the first day, we had a long hot walk and arrived at lunch in Jacques Cartier park only to find they had run out of food. What food they did have was utterly disgusting, greasy hamburgers from long frozen patties of meat-like material, dry and horrid on white buns with trans fat laden french fries. This is 2010. Many walkers are dealing with cancer. Are you trying to kill them by poisoning them? The lunch was beyond atrocious, it was a disgrace and an insult to the walkers who worked so hard to raise funds so that the Cancer foundations salaries can be paid.

The weekend should focus on women's health. There were no workshops on healthy living or exercise, no materials given out, no healthy food. Instead the walkers were subjected to appalling and unhealthy fare which made many sick. Instead of using this to promote women's health the walkers were subjected to the usual hucksterism of registering for next year and purchasing items to feed the breast cancer industry. The money raised pays your salaries folks.. put more thought into this!

The rest stops were well meaning and well staffed but again, an appalling lack of nutritional value. While there were oranges, there were mainly potato chips, popcorn and other junk food that most people over the age of 10 don't eat, and most people under the age of 10 are forbidden by their parents to eat.

What is going on?

The only aspects that were well done were the medical and massage personel as well as the volunteers. As for the paid organizers from the Cancer foundation, they should be ashamed of this weekend and use it as an example of how not to run an event.

I believe the foundation owes the walkers an enormous apology for the shameful and disrespectful way they were treated.

Weekend to End Women's Cancers 2010

2010-06-04T18:40:00.000-07:00

Here it is! The weekend to end women's cancers. Once again, I have volunteered to act as bicycle support for the walkers. Tonight was our team meeting and several people who were in other parts of the walk, dispatch, rest stations remembered me. One lady who remembered my help spoke to me about her cancer. It is a very emotional time and this year I am decorating my bike and trying my best to demonstrate to women that a diagnosis is by no means the end.

It is all about support and attitude. Tomorrow I will ride to support those who walk, I will offer water, stories, comfort and even gatorade. If walkers are very tired I jokingly offer them a ride on my bike. This year I have a bike computer and can tell them how far to go.

Last year I camped but this year I will sleep at home. Camping was fun but just adds another layer of complication.

Off to decorate!

Cultural differences in bike clubs...a matter of style

2010-06-01T19:24:00.000-07:00

I am a member of three local bicycle clubs and the only thing they have in common are the fact that they involve bicycles. The cultures are very different.

On Sunday I rode with the Ottawa Bicycle club some 80km. The club rides in a double peleton which makes it very social. They don't stop and maintain the advertised average speed. In my case for Sunday, 27km/hr. There are no lunch stops just a brief pause while you stuff a sandwich or bar in your mouth.

The advantage is time. I left at 9am and I was home before noon. Another advantage is you can really improve your riding as there are no tiring stops, starts...all of which take time and make for a long day.

It is good to be in several clubs if you bike. The Kanata Nepean Bicycle club has a more relaxed riding style where people do not want to ride in groups. As a result, you ride alone or with others in close proximity but there are numerous stops, starts and longer lunches. An 80km ride would be an all day affair. The lunches however are better than the OBC! The people are in their mid 40's and above and all of them would rather die than camp on a touring trip!

The CCCTS or Cross Canada Cycling touring society is made up of retired individuals, most of whom have been riding since they were born. They ride double file but that is to chat, not because it is a peleton. The pace can be fast or leisurely. The lunches are always lovely, be they picnics or otherwise as the members have much experience to share with people like me. Very different again. The people range in ages from late 50's to 84. These folks gladly camp or stay in hostels on their touring trips.

The differences between the club cultures are also expressed in the bikes themselves. The OBC riders have fast carbon racers and can speak at great length about the difference between SRAM, ultegra, etc. There is not a leather saddle to be seen! They do not carry bags but stuff their necessities in their pockets or in impossibly small frame bags.

The riders in the Kanata Club have racing bikes but there are some with hybrids. For the most part they look to the OBC and therefore not a leather saddle to be seen but there are panniers and larger bags!

The CCCTS folks have fenders, leather saddles and older equipment that is well maintained. They do not speak about SRAM or ULTEGRA but will tell you about friction shifters and gear that has stood the test of time, rather than fashion. Most of them have lightweight steel framed bikes, although one of us has a Titanium frame. There is a sub section of this club who all own Brooks saddles.

Each club has a different culture and different styles. If you love biking as I do, it is best to experience them all. I have been told that the Quebec club veloplaisir is known for their gastronomical outings. Next year!!!

Picton May 21-23rd 2010, beaches, wine and sun

2010-05-24T11:50:00.000-07:00

What a difference two weeks can make! During this weekend I led a group of 13 cyclists in Prince Edward County. The tour began with a dinner at Portabellas in Picton. This is a small restaurant with homemade pasta and the most delicious rose sauce I ever ate. It was wonderful and inexpensive. Dave and Cynthia made themselves available as leaders of the s3 group so that the cyclists had speed options! Always a good thing! Dave and Cynthia were fabulous!

Barb Bird, Carole Laflamme and I stayed at Carusos. The next morning at 7am our hosts gave us breakfast of fresh fruit and yogurt, homemade scones with butter, tea, juice, coffee, sausages, eggs! After spending the night in the beautiful out of Africa room, this was just an added pleasure. Our hostess also provides massages and before our dinner at Portabellas I had the Caruso's special with hot stones! We heard stories from other cyclists of skimpy breakfasts but Carusos excelled themselves!

The bike route was designed with the help of the Bloomfield bike company and took on the Cressy loop to visit the fifth town cheese factory (where I had their signature goats milk and cheese ice cream) and have a splendid cider tasting at the County Cider. County Cider is perched on a hill overlooking lake Ontario. With its stone tasting room and wonderful lunch area with a wood fired oven, you could imagine yourself in Tuscany. Here we had cheese and cider and grapes. The cider was so good that some on the tour bought some. I agreed to carry it in my pannier with the proviso that they buy me a bottle! The Cressy loop is splendid and lined with lilacs and bordered by the lake.

We rode to the Milford Bistro where their amiable chef and owner welcomed us with specially prepared menus. After his description of the ceasar salad, that is what I ordered. Our chef provided us with an autographed photo of him and told us his wife was diagnosed a few days ago with a horrible cancer. We gave him a hug and I told him I was a cancer survivor and it can be beaten. It is strange where life takes us.

After a decadent lunch it was back on the bikes for a mandatory stop at the Bloomfield bike shop where Lauren got her bike fixed. This gave us TIME TO SHOP. The store has a library and yes, you can read paperbacks on their porch. They have T shirts that read "TV sucks, Ride your bike" I bought one with matching socks. The mechanics are all geniuses with bikes and the owner Katey hilarious. When I was there, a young boy rang the bell. The bell was labelled please
Ring for abuse" as he rang Katey told him his haircut was terrible and his T shirt was a mess. Seeing he did not get it she pointed out that he rang and indeed got abuse.

By the time we returned to Picton, it was time for a hot tub session and some Waupoose cider. The three of us recalled our day in the sun among the vines and surrounded by the sweet smells and tastes of Picton.

The ride on day one was about 85km.

That night we dined on classic French cuisine at the Bloomfield carriage house.

The second day, we lost our young couple who bowed out and Peter who was ill. This left 10 of us. Day two was a picnic lunch that some of us picked up at the marshmallow room, which is the bakery and pastry shop run by the owner of the Bloomfield carriage house. After a bit of confusion, our portabello mushroom and cheese sandwiches on freshly baked bread were ready. I had lemonade, a sandwich and and apple...lunch for a king!

On our second day we rode to big island. This is all farmland with beautiful barns and pastureland. There were sheep grazing on verdant fields that overlooked the lake, buff coloured boats tied to docks, purple lawn chairs, and a charming marina. We watched an Osprey feed its young! It was then on to the Closson Estates Vineyard and organic winery that makes oaked chardonnays. By this time our group had cycled over 80km and they were glad to stop, We unpacked our lunches and had some wine in the sun overlooking the fields behind the purple, yes purple barn.

We cycled to the grange for more wine tasting and were given free samples, (I had two) of their newest rose.

Now there is something funny about a lot of wine on a bicycle. We rode down the dirt road to our next destination, a large public beach used only by locals. It took me a while to steer. The beach is at the end of Bakker lane and is miles of UNPOPULATED sand and beauty. We were alone. The water was cold but had it been warmer what a spot for a small fire and a beach party! It made the famous sandbanks look sick!

At about 100km my group of Mary, Barb, Carole and Michele was flagging. We rode into Bloomfield where we had icecream and I thanked Katey at Bloomfield for her wise advice. I got a special price on socks!

At 118km we rode into Picton. I was sad to leave our splendid bed and breakfast with its warm hosts, charming little orange cat, garden and comfort.

I would sum this little journey as an excursion into pleasure. It was a lot of fun!

Biking the way it should be

2010-05-14T18:48:00.000-07:00

Today Tom Seniuk, Carole Laflamme and I rode a 93 km loop leaving from Perth. The route was chosen by the chamber of commerce and had recommendations of where to stop and eat. Bravo for them!

The route was gorgeous, passing through Maberly and Elphin along little rivers, and falls, log cabins, rolling hills with horses and cows. There was a recommendation to stop and eat at Falls restaurant in Maberly. What a place! Organic, delicious, charming and cheap. I had an arctic char burger.

The roads had little or no traffic and were in fantastic shape. Perths chamber of commerce has a cycling committee and they hand out high quality routes of 20, 30, 50 or 90km. What a great idea.

I wish Ottawa would do the same. The route that the chamber of commerce committee mapped out was safe, gorgeous, scenic, quiet and blessed by an amazing local restaurant that were it not for the recommendation, I would have overlooked.

Today was bike touring the way it was meant to be. Fun, safe and filled with discovery. Today I learned that 3 cyclists were killed near Montreal riding on a busy road with no shoulders. Like all cyclists, I am saddened by that loss and this makes me even more thankful when I discover, or am told about wonderful cycling routes like the one today.

OK bike tour to Picton May 8th and 9th 2010

2010-05-10T17:25:00.001-07:00

Manny Agulnik is an Ottawa institution who has organized bike tours for years under the name OK tours. His trademark OK tour is the Ottawa Kennebunkport tour where riders ride about 140km or more for four days. Picton was an exception and I had no idea other than I wanted to support him mainly because of the charity work he and his wife Paula do, and also because I like biking.

We stayed at the Jackson Falls school house inn. This is a truly lovely spot where we ate in what was the one room school house. The region of Picton had many such schoolhouses until they were closed and amalgamated in 1961. While the Jackson Falls school house was renovated there are other ghostly school houses, boarded up, dark and empty of students in the area. Manny had arranged for us to have breakfast and dinners there which was great!

The first day of riding was cold and windy. Some people believed the dire weather forecast and chose not to ride. Our little group of Morley, Manny, Scott, Isabelle, John and (his gf?) rode out ostensibly to Closson vineyards. We got as far as Bloomfield and after a wonderful lunch at the Bloomfield carriage house as we watched the rain and wind over portobello mushroom sandwiches and apricot bread, decided to go back.

The entire group was around 20 cyclists and I soon learned that my roomate Maggie was a wonderful well traveled lady with a zest for life. In fact, the entire group was lovely, friendly and supportive. I believe that Manny's personality has a lot to do with this. There were people who had done almost 10 tours with Manny, which is a tribute.

Being served dinners in a one room schoolhouse with old maps and wooden flooring was lovely. Even nicer was at night as it poured with rain, we heard and were lulled by the rain on the tin roof.

After the ride on Saturday, I went to oil my bike and lifted the heavy garage door. I got my fingers in my right hand crushed. There was no one around and my opera training came in handy. I screamed for help. I woke up John and his friendwho rushed out to help me. In fact I woke up everyone. John found a brass ornament and freed my hand. The pain was horrible and I feared I would lose the finger. John and drove me to the hospital all the while alerting the hospital staff.

The hospital staff told me that many from the group phoned to inquire about me. I came back to the Inn just in time for the main course, was cheered and plied with wonderful Picton wine. The innkeeper Pete gave me pain pills and a mysterious concoction with coffee and whiskey. I was told the next morning that when I went to bed I sang the Lord is my Shepherd.. and my roommate harmonized. Our neighours enjoyed the concert and then I went to sleep.

On Sunday morning after a wonderful breakfast of French toast and more chatting with our group, I met Joyce. Joyce is an Olympian of a cyclist and she, Morley and I set off to master the Cressy Loop. Some 70km in high winds and cold temperatures. The loop is beautiful with lovely pastoral scenes, old schoolhouses, and lilac bushes lining the roadways. Joyce and I stopped at the Cider House and of course the fifth town cheese factory. By the time we rejoined the group at the Waupoose winery for lunch I realized I was in pain, cold and tired. I was driven back to the Inn by Morley, I packed and drove home.

Manny organized a lovely tour and there were maps for everyone. The people on the tour were friendly, kind and the sort of people I would consider friends. It is fair to say that on an OK tour you meet cyclists and leave with friends.

Well done!

As for my finger, I do not appear to have nerve damage. It is battered and bruised but I will not lose the finger tip. I still have 9 other fingers with which to type and cycle!

CHEO 2010 ride

2010-05-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday on May 2nd, I rode in the CN Cheo bike ride. I had already registered the night before and had my bib pinned on my Red Army Vodka jersey. Thanks to my neighbour and friends, I had fundraised over 1300.00! In total there were 5000 riders and over 1/2 million dollars raised!

The ride began with a tribute to Tori, a little girl who died of cancer. They released balloons in her honour and I was in tears. It brought home the fact that the ride is not only for research and support, but also to honour those who did not make it and their families.

As the ride began, I was followed by a man with a camera and a microphone in a golf cart. "Why are you riding?" I was riding for my neighbour Emma, who has childhood leukemia. Her father died a year ago at 27 years old, and Emma has been in and out of CHEO. She has had more blood tests and blood counts than most of us would experience in our entire lives. She is a very brave little girl.

The ride was for 70km, but there was poor signage. The route was simple enough but confusion over whether we ride there and back, or there twice, and back once. The volunteers also did not know. The ride had numerous rest stops all manned with red shirted high school students urging us to drink ice cold water. As the day started off a little cool I was not in the mood to drink ice water. (mistake number one)

I was unsure of the route and worried we would be on a bike path, so I took my touring bike. Because I took my touring bike, I decided to pack a rack bag. I have a new axiom rack pack which is really too slim for my rack bag..but I put it on. I had a video camera, repair kit, first aid kit, jacket, camera, pencil and paper and heavy chain just in case. I made sure to pack my cool gel pack, also in 'case.'(mistake number two)

All of this was not needed. The route had enough stops and rest and water that I did not need any of this equipment. Tommy and Lefebvre had provided a mechanic at one of the rest stops near Brittania. He was doing a brisk trade assisting with gears and in one case a minor accident. Oddly, I did not see very many or any first aid people. If they were there, they were hidden.

I learned there are three kinds of riders. There are the Tour de France wannabes, who will blaze past you without calling out huffing and puffing as they go along. Usually their ample bellies fill their overly tight cycling clothes! There are the first time out riders, who come with heavier bikes and large padded saddles and the families. I was most touched by a family who were pushing their son, clearly in chemo as he had no hair and was shaded with a hat and glasses, his face puffy.

I found a KNBC rider, whose wife Judy used to sing with me. He had broken his ankle last year and drafted behind me. We took several breaks. Along the way, we passed children and parents riding, bike buddies, recumbents, smaller children in CHEO shirts, larger kids rollerblading...it appeared everyone was out for the event.

Back at the war museum site, there were bikes everywhere, against posts, chained to posts, in a secure area...on the grass. Strollers, blades of every colour and assortment and a sea of coloured jerseys. There was a magic show in which a little girl in a red cape caused a large bunny to appear, music, prizes (did not win!) and hamburgers and fries for all! It was a riot of colour and life, with llamas and sheep to be pet, reptiles to amaze, a bouncy castle...against what can be a very bleak time for children and their families.

May 2nd was a glorious day as I rode past tulips of flame, and cream and red colours. May 2nd was awash with dandelions, and apple blossoms and the warmth and promise of summer yet to come.

At lunch, I removed my bag only to find that the cool gel pack, which I have carried for years 'in case', had exploded. When a cool pack explodes it extrudes what can best be described as fine white crystals that look like hoar frost. You can wash the bag over and over, or wipe it and the crystals get on your hands, shorts and jerseys! I had lunch looking like I had had a run in with a grocery store walk in freezer! Three cycles in the washing machine, and my jersey and shorts are back to normal!

When I rode home, I realized I was sunburned and badly dehydrated. Memo to self drink!

Here is what I learned:
1) There is no need to bring a bag that includes a gel pack and the kitchen sink
2) When high school students in red shirts beg you to drink water..heed their counsel
3) Take in the joy and the great sites
4) Thank the volunteers along the route...a lot of cyclists don't do this.

Thanks to everyone who helped me out with this one!

Armida or what a woman will do

2010-05-01T17:09:00.000-07:00

Today I was at the metropolitan opera, well listening to an HD broadcast of Armida by Rossini. It is rarely performed and no wonder, the singing is incredibly technically difficult and all bel canto. Renee Fleming and Lawrence Brownlee were the leads and sang magically as Armida the sorceress and Rinaldo the warrior.

The opera is about the conflict between love and duty, or cupid and fury. It takes you into the underworld. There was a hilarious scene when the furies from the underworld did a ballet. The ballet in the second act was outstanding, again on the theme of love and duty or masculinity and femininity.

Armida is a sorceress and has an island of pleasure, it is always spring or fall despite what the outside says, it is secluded and beautiful, inhabited by nymphs. What is so wrong about that? Like the Star Trek Episode the Lotus eaters, we know it wont last. Paradise never does.

In Act three, Rinaldos warrior buddies, armed with religion come to reclaim Rinaldo from his enalavement to love. They convince him that honour and bloody battle is better and he follows them.

Armida is distraught, in what is the most beautiful and poignant singing I have ever heard, Renee Fleming pleads telling Rinaldo she will be a servant, cut off her hair, tend his horses and even go to battle with him. She even begs him to kill her, as life is not worth living without him. She tries every trick in the book but it is all for naught. He leaves her, alone and broken on her island. She renounces love and calls upon the furies to destroy her paradise.

The moral of the story, furies, revenge and honour always win over love and pleasure and in the end, destroy it all. The human condition is not meant to be lived in paradise.

Lawrence Brownlee is a young tenor with a magnificent tone in his tenor range. He is convincing on the high as well as the low notes and mastered the part admirably. Renee Fleming was at her finest. When Brownlee sings with Fleming there is never the any note you can sing I can sing louder, only sublime texture, finesse and tenderness. The opera was a treat for all my senses~

The glories of biking..the ride of the Valkyries!

2010-04-24T18:01:00.000-07:00

April 24th 2010 was a gloriously sunny and warm day. It was such a nice day that the KNBC ride drew a crowd of over 24 riders. We descended upon Richmond like the Valkyries, proudly astride our war horses of carbon, steel and aluminium, our helmets gleaming in the sun, our fists clutching our water bottles in triumph.

Such a site we were to behold that children stopped to count us, and when I went to the local subway the sandwich makers were struck. They had, perhaps, never seen cyclists before!

We sat in the small memorial park across the street from the Richmond bakery and had coffee and our lunch while the sun gently rewarded our efforts. Cycling is a glorious thing!

The riders were all shapes and sizes. There were corpulent riders who stretched shiny lycra cycling shirts over their ample bellies, matching it with yellow shorts. They looked like black and yellow bumble bees on bikes, burly yet able to move. There were tall thin riders whose legs seemed to stretch endlessly down to their pedals, older riders and younger riders. There were experienced and inexperienced rider but what we had in common was a keen desire to celebrate life.

There is nothing like getting on a bike on a pleasant day and smelling the new mown grass and watching the awakening farmer's fields in the distance as you ride. There is no feeling that can match it.

I was late and rode to the start point in a hurry. I passed a group of motorcyclists who roared noisily to the next stop sign or light. At each stop, they would catch up to me, or I to them. The difference is there is no roar or smell of exhaust or engines when I start...just a soft click of my pedals. The bike, the ultimate stealth machine.

If you have never experienced the sheer joy and pleasure of riding a bicycle, what are you waiting for! The Ride of the Valkyries awaits you!

Woman on a bike trip...a morning journal

2010-04-24T13:51:00.000-07:00

Rowena and I decided to ride our bikes to the start point for today's bike ride. We agreed that 9am would be a good start time.

Here is my prep diary
900pm last night, lay out bike clothes pack lunch
700 am get up
715 feed my dogs
730 have breakfast
745 decide bike clothes not suitable..pick out other outfits
815 decide lunch is not good, repack lunch
845 fill water bottles and check air pressure
850 find correct pump to fill up tires
855 Rowena calls to say she is leaving without me
900 am decide to bring leggings 'in case'
908 decide to pack a baseball cap and a sweater that matches better
909 change my mind about the cycling gloves
910 return to put cell phone and camera in the pack
915 tighten bag
920 leave, ride to Rowena's. She is gone
926 remember what Rowena said and ride like a bat out of hell

The moral of this story is as follows: I need to prep completely the night before and hide any other bike clothes so I wont decide at the last minute to change, ditto for lunch options. I will also resolve to fill my tires the night before and not frantically try to do it in the morning.

Today's ride was a lovely relaxing ride with a large group from KNBC. After riding at breakneck speed (rarely dipping below 37km.hr the 15 km to arrive at Centrepointe) I was ready for a nice break.

Lots of fun!

DEATH TO THE BONK

2010-04-18T17:00:00.001-07:00

Since I started cycling, I have often read about the dreaded bonk. That state where you do not have sufficient fuel in your body and you have enormous difficulty cycling and moving in general.

Today I went with the KNBC for an 86 km trip with a slight wind. I signed up for the faster S3 group as I had been riding with them since March. The difference is, since March I have been on a somewhat drastic protein fast which enables me to lose about 4lbs a week. It has lowered my blood pressure to 100/60 and I feel great.

I lift weights four times a week and am stronger than ever. BUT this was not enough.

10km into the ride, I was in trouble. My legs were exhausted and I could barely pedal. I waited for the slower group and limped into the restaurant for lunch. I was exhausted and exasperated. This had never happened to me before!

After lunch of a salad and soup...I was fine and once again able to resume my 26-28km.hr riding even with a headwind. Bonk is real!

The moral of my story is in order to ride, you need fuel. From now on on my endurance ride days, I will bring small snacks like the nut bars that I make that will slowly release sugars into my system.

I don't need a lot of fuel, or the extra calories but food that slowly releases sugars into my bloodstream is clearly what was needed. I had read about Bonk before,and assumed it only applied to endurance cyclists or marathon cyclists. I never assumed it would hit me on an 85km ride.

It is obvious that a protein fast where your sugar intake is almost zero, and your caloric intake minimal, while effective is simply NOT a good idea for endurance sports.

Lesson Learned...DEATH TO THE BONK!

The Ottawa Bicycle Club

2010-04-11T20:39:00.000-07:00

The Ottawa Bicycle club has a storied history in Ottawa. It is a large club over 100 years old. The riders ride in a pack or pelethon and it always seemed to me that this club was for Tour de France wannabes.

This year I joined and today went for my first ride. I choose the slowest speed group, rode only 44km (more on that later) and made some new friends.

When you ride in a double pack you have the opportunity to chat with people. As a social person, I like this.

The group was a little too slow for me, and so I spent all of my time in the front of the pack. There was a very stiff wind and the temperature was cold. I rode my touring bike and wore my mountain bike shoes as they are somewhat warmer than my road shoes.

Unfortunately, my shoes are designed for summer. Although I had woolen socks and toe covers, I came home after a short ride..albeit against the wind with no feeling in my feet.

Inventors take note:
Please make bike shoes that are heavier. We don't need all that ventilation when the wind is howling and the mercury dropping!

Please design wool socks that actually can keep your feet warm

Please install windblocks on the shoes. I have tried duct tape...but it always falls off.

The tour leader told me that the OBC was not a very social club, but I found it very social, at least on my first ride. It is all a matter of perspective!

This Tuesday I shall ride with them once more and then again on Sunday.

Life is good!

Simple Joys and the holy grail

2010-04-08T06:52:00.000-07:00

It seems that North Americans are on a quest for happiness. It is the holy grail of our times, and like the holy grail, illusive and the cause of much frustration and unhappiness.

The marketing industry is happy to fuel our missions by telling us that we need a vacation, or a new car, a cottage or the latest ipod gadgets. The ipad can read a book. Imagine that! Something that the printing press enabled us to do centuries ago. Of course, you have to pay to download a book but what a marvellous thing, to be able to read a book on a screen without the tactile pleasure of actually holding a book. You cannot live without this one.

The diet industry has been prolific as well by pushing a mountain of weight loss plans, diets, workouts all for people to have the perfect body. There are diet meals full of additives and assorted poisons, margarine, meat products that have been so adulterated that they can hardly qualify as food, and of course mcfoods. To counter the illnesses that we incur from our highly processed and toxic diet, the pharmaceuticals are quick to produce pills that will lower cholesterol, lower blood pressure etc. etc. One industry supports the other!

Perfect toys, perfect body.

As if this were not enough, there is the dating game industry that promises emotional happiness if you buy into their program and get matched with someone else. Perfect toys, body and partners! There is an entire industry that has diagnosed millions of people as 'depressed', merely because they have not attained the 'perfection' that they are told that they should have and are entitled to have. Hence the huge market for antidepressants.

The flaw with all of this is that it is fueled from a false creation of unhappiness. Popular culture has created a society of individuals who want and who are convinced that their lives are half empty. They need to fill it with things, possessions, experiences, food or intimacy. In order to be driven to buy toys, or seek the perfect match etc, one must be convinced that one is miserable in the first place. Why else would you change? Our marketing industry has been very careful to point out that simple pleasures like a home cooked meal, or a walk with a dog, or reading a book from a 'gasp' library is for losers and you have not really 'made it'. Translate 'made it' for 'spend money'

When I say a false creation of unhappiness, I mean that our popular culture tells us that it is okay to be momentarily unhappy if we do not have the goals that they have set, and then encourages us to buy these goals. We need and demand immediate satisfaction of all of our wants.

Real pleasure however, does not arise from a childish satisfaction of wants. It comes from taking time to be mindful of the blessings that we have. To be mindful or deeply aware of our surroundings, of the wind and the rain, and the food that we eat. Real pleasure comes when we shut out all of the shrill cries of the advertisers and marketers and simply focus on our life as it is. We will quickly realize that our lives are overflowing with blessings and pleasures to be enjoyed.

Such mindful awareness is the key, I believe to being able to fully appreciate the many many simple joys that life offers. When we tune out the mindless chatter of pollsters, advertisers, marketers and look to our own lives, to our friends, to our surroundings, our health, to the day itself, we will see that the glass is not only half full, it is overflowing.

The holy grail has been in our hands all of this time!

Amen!

Good Friday 2010

2010-04-02T15:09:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, good Friday was a morose day. My mother would close the curtains, we could not watch television or do anything lest we incur the wrath of God on our household. In fact I recently came across a childhood diary and at 13 I had written: Good Friday Good Grief!

My parents never wanted to do anything and I was not allowed outside. I began to resent it. I liked Easter, but I did not like the darkness and the goriness of Good Friday. My family was Roman Catholic of the old school variety and so traditions and rituals were very important. However, we did not pray at home and it just seemed so artificial to keep the house dark as if a terrible punishment would befall us if we smiled. To this day, my mother, who loves telephones, does not call on Good Friday.

I still go to church but for many years I kept to this somewhat dark tradition. I did not shop, I did not go out..it was a funeral day afterall.

Good Friday 2010 however was a glorious sun filled day in Ottawa. I called a friend and we went biking. There was still a touch of snow, hence the picture. The shops in Quebec were all open, people were eating on the patios, sunning without shirts. I half expected to see the curtain of the temple torn in two and an earthquake or at least a storm but it remained sunny and bright.

I had a great time biking. I sometimes think that our religion, or at least our understanding of it can in many ways cripple us in life. It prevents us from truly enjoying the creation and basking in the sunshine. The religion of my childhood was one of many prohibitions and nos. There was no earthquake today, no temple curtain being torn in two...nor were the dead raised. I wonder if God was also enjoying his creation!

Workout motivation

2010-03-25T17:30:00.001-07:00

Now that the biking season is upon us (hooray!) I am ramping up my training in particular my weight training. Weight training has numerous benefits especially for women. My weight training in the past has paid off handsomely when I ride my bike, as I have both strength and endurance.

The problem with weight training was motivation. I was a member of Goodlife fitness. Originally, it was a lot of fun with a hot sauna and room. Gradually, the showers became filthy and the sauna rarely if ever worked. Eventually, they simply turned down the temperature so that the sauna was lukewarm. The classes became so crowded that they were dangerous and there was simply no room to do anything. As if that was not bad enough, there was almost always blaring rap music.

I found it harder and harder to motivate myself to go and made almost any excuse not to go. What a change when I went to a private gym where I used to be a member called New Body Dimension! Here are the advantages of a small private gym. The first is it is clean. They do not allow street shoes into the gym and thus the floors are clean. The showers are immaculate and well lit. The lockers are large enough to fit your gear. In the women's washroom there are even shampoos and conditioners for the clients to use. The lighting is soft and the dryers actually work, unlike Goodlife. At New Body in addition they have trainers who know what they are doing and the whole atmosphere is one of professionalism. It is a great inspiration for training and the time just seems to fly.

Sometimes motivation can be renewed simply by moving to a gym that is clean, bright, friendly and professional.

The wonders of wool

2010-03-07T16:47:00.000-08:00

It was March 7th, snow on the ground and I went for my first semi serious bike ride of over 65km. I wore a wool cycling jersey but also a hi tech soft shell jacket with illuminite and pockets. The jacket is guaranteed windproof, breathable and is a nice red.

On the way back from lunch, I felt hot and removed the jacket and re discovered why wool made England wealthy, saved many fur traders from freezing to death, and for many years was hailed as the miracle fiber. Wool is breathable and retains warmth even when it is wet. After I removed my so called breathable jacket, I felt a rush of cold but then my wool jersey made all of the sheep proud. Wool jerseys, or sweaters when you are riding actually regulate your temperature. They cool you and keep you warm and, you don't get clammy or wet. Wool really cannot be beat.

My bike is also equipped with a leather tensioned brooks saddle. I have yet to find an artificial fibre or material that can even come close to the properties of wool and leather.

I think that sometimes in our rush to get the latest in technology, and my red jacket is very snazzy and lightweight ...we sometimes forget that the older natural materials that do not use oil to produce and are better for the environment are in fact, superior.

The latest edition of bicycle times even advertises wool knickers. They look pretty nice with satin inserts at the knee....lycra knickers and leggings look out!

Biking in EARLY MARCH..only in Canada you say!

2010-03-07T14:19:00.000-08:00

It is hard to believe that six of us were biking in early March, yet here we were. The roads were clear, the sun was shining...all of this in early March in Canada.

It was thrilling to get back on my bike and pedal and watch the speedometer climb 32km/hr, 38km/hr and to see the sunlight snow covering the fields slowly dissolve. It was beautiful to see the farmyard laneways appear and hitherto buried machinery emerge from the snow. It was so much fun to get back on my bike, albeit not my racing bike as it is March after all.

Our lunch stop was the Ashton pub. There is nothing like cider and soup to revive ones soul. Oddly, despite the early start to my cycling season and the 6 degree temperature, it felt much warmer than many of my fall rides where my toes, fingers and knees would freeze. My last ride, in December had to be called because I honestly believed my feet would fall off in frozen slabs from my pedals. This ride was different, I could hear the cardinals calling for mates, I could hear the melting of the snowbanks and the dripping of water from the roofs. The pub is an English pub imitation, but the soup was terrific. I ordered the French onion soup and it was excellent with a hint of sherry. There is nothing quite as wonderful as warming your toes in front of a fireplace (even though it was a gas fireplace) and talking away to like minded people who took the plunge with Dave Audette.

In all, the 6 of us, Eileen, Dave, Cynthia, Michael, Steph and me rode some 68km. On the way there we battled headwinds and it was clear that my spin classes and weight lifting following my new Bible weight training for cyclists really paid off. I was stronger and faster, or at least I felt I was!

On the way back we were blessed with a glorious tailwind and I watched with delight as my speedometer rarely went below 31km.hr. Tailwinds are God's way of encouraging us to cycle in March.

Vive le Velo!

Spring is here...let the bike tours begin!

2010-03-04T17:43:00.000-08:00

Now that the snow is melting and the sun is warm and the birds are in full breeding plumage, my thoughts have turned to bike touring.

This year, I will organize and lead a bike tour to Picton during the May long weekend. Picton is a pictoral and gastronomic gem with lovely farmlands, and numerous vineyards. They even have a cheese factory that produces goat and sheep milk ice cream and is LEED certified.

After Picton in May, (Twice as I shall lead a tour and go on an organized one), there is the Breast Cancer weekend where I will volunteer as a cyclist to support the walkers. As a breast cancer survivor myself, I am proud to inspire and encourage the brave walkers, each of whom have raised a considerable amount of money with fundraising. During the walk last year, we walked (They walked, I rode) throughout numerous neighborhoods in Ottawa. The most touching were the poorer neighborhoods. As we passed tenements and row houses, people had kool aid, or chocolate bars or popsicles. There were chalk drawings cheering on the walkers on Cummings Avenue and our walkers were treated like Olympians. We were greeted with children who danced. In contrast, when we walked through a wealthy neighborhood in Rockcliff, we were met, by a rather stern woman watering her garden who complained to me that the walkers likely scared her cat and she hoped no one walked on her lawn. I hope the walkers trampled her lawn into mud!

Mid June will have our Bike team riding to Cobden for a bike/whitewater rafting trip.

In July I will lead a tour to Montreal during the Canada day weekend. This is a very easy cycle but it should be fun just the same. The best tour in July will be the Bon Ton Roulet. This is a 6 day tour run by volunteers in the finger lakes of New York I shall ride about 75 miles a day, and camp at night. The money raised helps support YMCA programs for youth. What a lot of fun that will be.

In August there is the two day MS ride. I have worked diligently to secure about 15 sponsors for our team. Our team of 20 will wear specially made uniforms festooned with the logos of our sponsors. Our sponsors (most of them) will also have booths in Kemptville where they will speak of their trade. I will have chiropractors, physiotherapists, white water rafting and a bike shop. The MS ride is from Ottawa to Kemptville and is a fun ride. This year, I don't have the stress of raising the minimum $250.00 required to ride, as this has been achieved through my sponsors.

August will also have one of Barrie Kirks famous NY pannier trips!

Hopefully there will be more in September but so far, none that I have planned.

This leaves March and April for me to burn the rubber in spin classes and lifting weights! There is nothing like a bike season to inspire me!

Biking and bike touring in particular is a zen like experience where you are alone with your bike. Your transportation is entirely in your hands, there is no gas, no GPS (well some do have it). It is you, with your bike, your bags and maps and friends. There is nothing quite like the feel of the sun on your face and watching the scenery roll by. On a bike, you are able to participate in the scenery, you can stop anywhere, go anywhere. Your transportation can be carried up stairs, locked against trees, or lifted on your car's bike rack.

Some say that biking and bike touring is an addiction, but that is not correct. Biking is more like a love affair, passionate, encouraging, and most of all...it is an affirmation of life and physicality.

Vive le velo!!

Vancouver 2010

2010-03-01T14:19:00.000-08:00

I have read numerous commentaries, editorials, and columns about the Olympics and what is clear is that these Olympics allowed Canadians to feel a sense of national pride and unity. Despite the lack of French at the Olympics, the mangled national anthem at the opening ceremonies, the rain and fog and lineups, there was something about these Olympics that prompted the average person to take pride in being Canadian. We sang the national anthem, we cheered as our athletes excelled, we agonized with them, we rejoiced with them. We were united as a country for those 17 days when it seemed that time was suspended.

This sense of unity and pride is, I think especially important at a time when the country is not united, when we have become disillusioned by a government that we see as detached, distant or dictatorial. The pride and unity is also important in a country that often defines itself as French, English, East or West, North or South. Who among us did not cheer when Sidney Crosby scored the golden goal? Who among us were not thrilled when Alexandre Bilodeau thanked his brother Patrick and claimed he was his inspiration. Despite all the commercialization, the endorsement by Coca Cola, the hype, the music, the endless commentaries, there is something about the Olympics that transcends it all.

I have a friend who said the Olympics should be like the ancient Olympics. The ancient Olympians competed in the nude, something that would be impossible in winter and moreover no married women were allowed to watch, let alone participate. No, the modern Olympics are much more accessible.

I found myself enjoying women's hockey immensely. Although I was thrilled with the fact that the men's hockey team won gold, they were all drawn from different professional teams and thus Team Canada vs Team Russia, was no more than the same players with a different lineup or shuffling of the deck. The women's team was real. They held their small children in their arms, they are mothers, they have jobs, they embody the spirit of the amateur athlete and for their struggles and victory we all salute them.

Vive le Canada, Vive les jeux Olympique!

Vancouver 2010, opening ceremony disgrace!

2010-02-13T06:43:00.000-08:00

Opening Ceremonies a disgrace

The opening ceremonies of the Olympics were a disgrace. The natives were represented as a group of costumed dancers, doing whatever they wished, no explanation just hopping about. The 'immigrants' all in white, sometimes danced. sometimes not...all to their own beat. There was no mention of our founding cultures...just a mismash of quotes and bizarre effects. It began badly with a horrible jazz rendition of our national anthem. The national anthem is just that, a national anthem meant to be sung by the people. It is like a congregational hymn in a church. Yankofsy's antics and affectations made it impossible to understand whether she was singing in Polish, English, Cantonese or French and furthermore impossible to sing with. Nikki Yankofsy should stick to pop. In contrast soprano Measha Brueggergosman was amazing as was KD Lang. Measha should have sung both the national and the olympic anthems.

I was sorry to see the lamentable lack of French, given that this is a bilingual country and the marginalization of our first nations peoples. They welcomed us with plastic totem poles, but surely given the spirit of the Olympics a sweet grass ceremony and blessing would have been in order. They were marginalized in that they too, were part of the mixed up show, with no meaning just vague symbols. This was clearly designed by a committee: Lets have Capt Vancouver in there...how about Captain Cook....no no Captain Hook...gotta have canoes folks...oh yea and lets stick in some native guy...Chief Dan George.... The Olympic torch rose like a metal giant from the floor was broken and one of the arms did not deploy. It did not depict anything. It was like the plastic totem poles, devoid of symbols and meaning but surely representing something. The broken torch was surely a metaphor for the broken and disjointed opening ceremony!

The only good moments were 1) The respect paid to the fallen Georgian Luge athlete 2) KD Lang and Measha B.

Canada lost an opportunity to teach and to showcase to the rest of the world what is truly unique about us, namely our bilingual culture and welcoming and peaceful country.

Verdi does it again!

2010-02-07T06:46:00.000-08:00

Among all of the operatic composers, Verdi is one of my favourites. The characters in a Verdi opera are passionate, powerful and the orchestral background and chorus seethes with emotion. Whether it is the pain of unrequited love as sung by Amneris in Aida or in the case of Simon Boccanegra the unbelievably emotional and beautiful benediction at the close of the opera, a Verdi opera is a treat.

This week, I listened to the HD performance of Verdi's Simon Boccanegra. This piece is rarely performed but is magnificent. James Levine calls it a true masterpiece and one of his favourites and I can see why! The Met brought us into the world of 14th century Genoa with splendid costumes, fresco ed meeting rooms and private chambers with fireplaces. The lighting was glorious with villas in Italy overlooking the sea and the soft warm lighting had one imagining that you were actually there in a cool garden listening. The costumes were outstanding.

The opera was a particular treat because Placido Domingo, was singing as a baritone the role of Simon Boccanegra. Domingo is such a convincing actor that I was quite convinced that he was the wise doge of Genoa. He walked slowly and sang with such emotion as he entered his audience hall with his hand on his sword that I believed I was there.

The opera begins with Boccanegra, a former pirate being declared doge by the people of Genoa. He has had an illegitimate child with the daughter ofJacobo Fiesco, beautifully sung by bass James Morris. The daughter Maria has died and Fiesco confronts Boccanegra. Boccanegra begs for forgiveness but the bitter Fiesco says he will never forgive unless Boccanegra gives him his granddaughter. Boccanegro cannot do this as the little girl was raised in a cottage near Pisa with an elderly woman who died. The little girl disappeared. Fiesco turns his life into one of hatred and a desire for revenge. The opera is a masterpiece in contrasts between revenge, hatred and mercy. Boccanegra, even at this point shows his desire for mercy and reconciliation. The contrast between him and the morose Fiesco is striking. Fiesco retreated and spends most of the opera wearing a grey shroud like a ghost.

We are taken to a beautiful villa where Amelia Grimaldi (Sung by Adrianne Pieczonka) sings of her happiness with her lover Gabriele Adorno (Tenor Marcello Giordani). She is waiting for a visit from the doge, whom Adorno is a sworn enemy. Pieczonka sings the role well, but her acting was terrible. She stood almost at attention as she sang and even in the love scenes would look past Giordani. During the tender moments her face looked tense, and during the emotional and tragic scenes at the end of the opera she was almost laughing. I found I had to close my eyes when she sang rather than be distracted by her stage presence.

We have come to expect so much from opera, in particular the MET. Singers must do much more than sing, we demand that they act the part as well. Acting does not demand the physicality of Natalie Dessay or the power of Karita Mattila (who sang Tosca) but you have to show to the audience that your character is credible.

There were so many outstanding moments in this operatic masterpiece but for me the most moving was at the end, when Boccanegro is poisoned and is dying. His enemy Fiesco appears seated on his throne as a ghost. Boccanegro tells him he can be forgiven as he has found his granddaughter and sings imploringly of forgiveness and mercy. Fiesco's heart breaks and he says that 'he hears the voice of heaven in Boccanegro's words'. I think that is the point of this opera. The voice of heaven, the words of forgiveness and peace are always found on the lips of a former pirate rather than the patricians of the day.

Boccanegro's final aria is a moving (I was crying) hymn to forgiveness and love. His former enemy the young and somewhat brainless Adorno (whose name befits him as he is mainly style and little substance) has reconciled with him, begging his forgiveness. Adorno and Maria kneel beside the dying doge. The scene was marred by Pieczonka's truly terrible acting but the effect was mesmerizing. The doge is dying in his hall of audience surrounded by the patricians and the publicans and the knights as well as the people whom he has let into the hall. He asks Fiesco to make certain that Adorno is the new doge and his dying act creates peace between the warring factions.

Placido Domingo is simply mesmerizing on stage. Here as the wise peaceful doge who wants nothing more than to see his daughter and to bring peace to Italy, you are again moved with not only compassion but love towards this character. Such is the power of Domingo.

Perhaps if Pieczonka had sung with a lesser character than Domingo her deficits would have remained unnoticed but when you sing with a giant you must rise to the occasion.

Life on the "east side" of Manor Park

2010-02-01T15:02:00.000-08:00

Manor Park is an upper middle class neighborhood in Ottawa where we moved when my father retired from the forces. We left the base and moved to Eastbourne Ave. Eastbourne is a long street, most of it winds through single homes with fireplaces and large back yards with gardens with flowers, in particular roses. They were large homes with private entrances and long driveways. Eastbourne Avenue ends in a series of row homes arranged in a u shape, the east end of Manor park.

Unlike the homes with fireplaces and long driveways, we had a common parking area behind our houses and no yards to speak of. The U in the front or courtyard was shared by all and the only patch of grass that we could lay claim to was a small garden 4 feet long by 2 feet wide which my mother filled with zinnias, peruvian four o'clocks, and marigolds which my cat loved to sleep in!

We lived in these row houses. There was something exciting about living in these row houses and not having any private entrances. We lived in each others backyards and to make it more interesting, we had a collection of eccentric neighbours. On the far end, Neil and Michelle had taken vows of poverty, wore white robes and meditated. They would invite their friends over for chanting sessions and we would watch and snicker. They had a son who was not allowed to eat candies or watch clowns. To this day, I have no idea why there was a clown prohibition.

Next to Neil, there was a family whose father,whom we knew as Mr. Foran, who, although he was capable of speech, chose to exercise his right to silence. He would gesture in sign language to his daughter who was in my sisters class. If it was cold, he would point to her, shiver, pat his arm, point to his house and then back at her. That meant "Jackie it is cold, go in the house and put on your sweater". We called it Eastbourne sign language.

Mr. Foran was the strong silent type with a penchant for looking into windows. Our home was on the end and we did not like using curtains. Mr. Foran would take his daily constitutional, rain or snow, sun or wind down the east side of the path and would turn his head and look into our window. It drove us all to distraction. I mounted my camera with flash and tripod in the window and waited until he passed. As he turned, I pushed the bulb and the flash flashed. Mr. Foran never looked into our window after that.

Directly across from us lived a family of blond children and fair haired parents. They never spoke to us, but the youngest daughter would sit every morning on the concrete steps with a cup of tea in hand, deep in thought in her pyjamas. We never knew why, or what she was thinking.

Behind us lived a colourful family of Lebanese immigrants. They lived on the end unit and believed that the patch of grass forming a corner was theirs. The first thing they did was to dig up this plot to plant vegetables like the old country. They were told that they were renters and did not own the land. After much heated discussion, the garden was plowed over. Their children were masterful marbles players and could memorize and create rules out of thin air. They rarely if ever lost and many of my prize marbles were lost to their vast holdings. They would generally ignore their mother's calls to come home until they heard shrill shrieks in Arabic. This froze their blood cold. We never knew what it meant, but it must have meant something like "I will skin you alive and feed you to the camels" It had an instant effect and Tony Hammoui would pack up his marbles and go home, not stopping to look back.

The family was one to economize at all costs. The boys were taken outside in the common back yard with bowls over their heads to have their hair cut. The Hammouis would bring us plates of Lebanese treats which we eagerly devoured. While other kids longed for chocolate bars, our little row houses were used to the smell of fresh baklava and feta cheese.

My sister had a young friend called Nikki who lived in hard working family. Her father had at least three jobs and we never saw him walk, he only ran. All we saw was the smoke from his cigarette as he ran from job to job. Nikki's mother also worked and Nikki was greatly admired by my sister because Nikki could come home alone and would cook for herself. At eight, Nikki could make macaroni and tomato juice! Nikki knew how to use the washing machine, the stove and could also make her own sandwiches. She carried her housekey around her neck and it was always exciting for my sister to visit her as they were alone without any parents and hence could watch TV and drink gingerale!

I remember the Viau family whose father would call his children once a week over a table for a 'family conference'. It was at this summit that issues such as allowances, 'groundings', school performance and behaviour were discussed. The Viau's had turned a hill behind the row houses into an icy race track where we would eagerly charge down on makeshift sleds. The Viau's also were the first to put out a blow up pool in the common back yard. I think they had a dog, but I cant remember. Our family rarely ate together, choosing to forage what we could from the dinner table and so talk of a family conference was the stuff of national geographic to me.

For all the colour and excitement of our row houses, with the heating system that rarely worked, the bath water than ran cold and windows that grew thick and heavy with frost on the inside as the temperature outside dropped, there were those who were embarrassed of them. We had a middle aged writer who lived in our square. She was somewhat of a recluse but dreamed of recognition. She was a little pudgy and spent her time behind her typewriter. However, when she did venture beyond her home and took the bus, she would get off on the West end of Eastbourne, as if to pretend to all on the bus, including herself that she belonged in the more affluent part of Eastbourne and did not rub shoulders with people like us, with the 'others'

Years later, I now live in a house with a fireplace with a long driveway. We have a private yard and we grow roses and have bird feeders. My neighbours are quiet, there are no marble territory wars, there are no ice hills. The eight year olds in my neighborhood could not make macaroni and tomato juice, and would probably not even know how to use a housekey. Most homes have elaborate alarm systems and even if you could open it with a key, you would have to disarm before the swat team descends on you. There is no smell of feta or backlava in the air and our house is far enough from the street to discourage even the most determined of curious neighbours unless they had binoculars.

My neighbourhood is quiet, safe and utterly banal. A child growing up on my street today would never have to learn the art of negotiating with a marble cheating family..as they never play alone, their parents are always with them! A child on my street today would never be allowed to dream on the front steps, Mr. Foran would be in psychiatric care and not spoken about, the children's aid would have intervened with Neil and Michelle. Even if this happened, no one would know because we are all isolated from one another. We build walls, and hedges to ensure that we do not rub shoulders with the 'other'

Backyard rinks

2010-02-01T14:32:00.000-08:00

Winter on an air base in Canada meant two things: A large hockey rink and hundreds of backyard rinks. As you walked down any of the streets you could hear the swish, slash and bang of a backyard rink as diminutive hockey stars practiced their slapshots against piled up two by fours.

My father took great pride in the small rink that he made in our backyard. He would pack down the snow, and pack it again and then flood it, repack and flood again. The rink always had a slight saddle shape and had a few pebble-like bumps. I would practice with my Dad or often just by myself, the blue of the ice oddly lit by our rear porchlight. I would hear the sounds of all the other kids practicing. My Dad was a great skater and had played hockey. He could do what I always wanted to do...skate backwards!

I never became a hockey star. I tried figure skates but they were too dangerous for me. I eventually settled on a pair of tube skates, which were tall and white with no picks and when I outgrew them, I had a pair of boys black and brown leather hockey skates. Despite my skate advantage, I was never a good skater either as I tottered somewhat uncertainly over the ridges and bumps of our rink. The main rink was almost always off limits for anyone who was not in a hockey team. It was slashed and had deep groves made by the red sweatered hockey stars of our base community.

The sounds of backyard rinks are not nearly so common as we tend to take our kids to larger organized venues and larger rinks. While walking my dogs tonight I saw two of them. One had a father and his son playing on a pebbled rink like that of my childhood, the other was a fancier one with what looked like a blue pool lining underneath the ice. The familiar sounds of swish, scrape and shaving ice..brought back many memories of nights beneath the porch light as I practiced the art of skating...backwards!