USA: My Crazy Cousin, or My Thoughts on the UCI World Championships in Richmond

Joy here...Okay, I haven't blogged all summer, and we're well into fall, so instead of trying to fill in some of the gaps from the last few months, I'll just leave those as gaps and pick up where I am right now.

That's one of the lessons I've learned from training: When you miss a workout, don't try to start layering in all the missed workouts on top of new workouts, but just leave them incomplete and begin anew.

So that's what I'm doing now.  Beginning anew.

And I've decided to begin with a recap of the weekend of September 27th when The Man, myself, and a few friends headed to Richmond, Virginia to watch the UCI World Cycling Championships. Not only was it a great opportunity for those of us North Americans to get a chance to see some of the world's very best cyclists up close (a bonus that many Europeans can simply take for granted that is still a big deal to those of us on this side of the pond); but also, our friend (who just signed a World Tour Contract for next year with Canondale-Garmin - yay Mike!) was going to be racing for Team Canada.

So we bought our flights using my aeroplan points, booked a place to say using Airbnb, and headed to the States.

Rockin' the 90s LA style.

Now as a Canadian I've travelled to the US, but not as extensively as I've travelled throughout Canada or other parts of the world. I mean, I've done the typical Disney World family vacations; in my twenties I took a work trip to LA with my uncle when we both worked for the family business (and was totally weirded out that people were quicker to assume us a couple than an uncle & niece travelling together); I did a girls' holiday to Scottsdale with my besties in our twenties (where we hung out by the pool and pretended we were in a Reality TV Show, and that premise got funnier and funnier the more margaritas we drank); as an adult I've done trips to Boston and NYC to be all grown up and sophisticated and stuff; and my sister and I think it's a great idea to start doing sister trips to Miami in November to escape the "Winter is Coming" feeling in Canada.

So that's just to say that I've been to the States before.

And every time I go I am struck by a weird sense of ostranenie (остранение), the sense of defamiliarization of the familiar. Basically presenting familiar things in a way that makes them seem unfamiliar.

And that, my friends, in a nutshell is what a Canadian often feels in the USA.

UCI World Championships in Richmond

(And I suspect that Americans feel this same thing when they live, work, and travel in Canada.)

It's a strange sense of thinking that things should be familiar (except that they spell centre wrong and get rid of the letter "u" from words and things like that), but amidst all the familiarity of language and culture, I am always struck by the fact that things are not as similar as I might unthinkingly assume.

Here is a random list of some of my observations about how USA differs:

Cause, you know, not all schools are
"drug-free school zones," only the
ones with signs.

• When people say something is "urban" they don't mean "hip" or "busy," they mean "ghetto" or "crime-ridden";
• Walking as a mode of transportation engenders pity;
• Poverty and homelessness seem closely linked to race;
• Gun violence is a real thing to worry about;
• Taxis are non-existent or inefficient, but Uber is awesome;
• People can be super friendly and welcoming or super scary and frightening depending on which neighbourhood (or neighborhood) you find yourself in;
• It is a given that the way things are done in the States is the best. Period;
• Basic technological things - like mobile credit card payment and PIN machines - are surprisingly behind the times more often than not (like you still have to sign credit card slips in restaurants!);
• Public transportation is a place where crime happens;
• People really say things like "y'all" in regular conversation; and
• Obesity is real.

But given all that which seems odd, despite being familiar, there is also a charming "American-ness" that can create beautiful and genuine moments - moments of laughter and celebration, moments of connection, moments of discussion and conversation etc. - and while in Virginia for the UCI race, I was able to experience a moment of community like I had never before experienced.

USA! USA! USA!

For a large part of the race, Ben King, a local racer from Virginia was leading the race as part of a small breakaway.  We were standing on a hilly, cobbled stretch of road watching, amidst thousands upon thousands of spectators crowded by the roadsides rows thick. As the leaders of the race came into sight, these thousands of spectators began to chant:  "USA! USA! USA!"

Now normally I'd scoff at the blatant (and frightening) nationalism, or I would cynically wonder "what do they have to cheer about?" but amidst crowds of sports-loving fans under a sunny September sky cheering for a hometown boy, I couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion in my chest, a sense of warmth and earnestness, a sense of community that was uplifting and positive, and in that moment, I felt something quite wonderful about my crazy but loveable cousins to the south.

Here's to you, USA!

Over and out,

Joy

Have fun, Dammit!

Joy here...Okay, so I barely went cross-country skiing this winter; I've not hit all my run workouts in weeks; I've fallen off the strength training wagon; I barely ride my bike, and I think I've gained weight over the course of this never-ending winter.

But nobody likes a whinger.

whinge

(h)winj/

BRITISHinformal

verb

1. 1.

   complain persistently and in a peevish or irritating way.

   "stop whingeing and get on with it!"

noun

1. 1.

   an act of complaining.

Me last month with the snow bike!

And the truth of the matter is that when I put on that cycling helmet, hop up on a bike, and feel the wind on my face as I pedal my little heart out, I forget everything; every worry, every whinge, and every excuse is whisked away.

That, I think, is why all little children learn to love bike riding.
I was never a bike rider as a kid...so I get to fall in love with it now as an adult, enjoying every moment of it in the fullness of my present self.  I don't take it for granted, and I'm always surprised by just how much I love riding my bike.

We bought a "snow bike" this winter...a big, fat bike with tires that would put a monster truck to shame, and then yesterday the weather was actually nice enough for me to dust off my awesome road bike and head for a ride around the canal for the first time in 8 months!!!

Me after my successful first 1.5 hr bike ride this spring!

So a friend of mine and I got ourselves all set, and headed out onto one of Ottawa's many bike paths.  Neither she nor I feel particularly fit after a long winter with too much booze and not enough sport, but that's not the point.

The point is getting out there under a blue sky in the blustering wind chatting with a friend and moving your body.  You don't have to look at your computer and calculate speed or wattage, you just have to just enjoy yourself.  That's not such a tall order, is it?

And that's exactly what we did.  And in my humble opinion (or IMHO in text-speak), enjoyment on a sunny spring day is as good a start as any I can imagine as I count down to my next race in just under 5 weeks from now.

I may not be fast by then.  I may not be fit by then.  But I will go and I will run, and I will have fun.

Dammit.

Because afterall that is what this is all about!

Over and out,
Joy

Ride Stats:  Went for a 35km bike path ride; it took around 90mins.

Look where you want to go...

Joy here...While being based in Kuala Lumpur for the past 12 months I've had a chance to do some amazing bike rides through glorious scenery.  Along the way, we upgraded the wheels on my bike to some super fast Carbon C35s, which has given me more than one mini heart attack as I've gone descending down hairpin turns with 400m drops into the ravine below.

You see, I'm not one of those kids who grew up riding a bike, tearing around the neighbourhood on my BMX doing tricks.  I came to cycling really late in the game, into my 30s already.  And while I've certainly improved and learned how to love bike riding, I've never really mastered the fine art of descending.  Add to that my natural tendency to always fear the worst in things, and you have the perfect recipe for a pretty crappy descender on the bike.

But not to be daunted…I turned to YouTube for advice:

One of the great bits of advice in this video is "look where you wanna go," so as I rode the terrifying switchbacks down the hill in Kuala Lumpur on my new, fast wheels, I heard over and over in my head "look where you wanna go…look where you wanna go…look where you wanna go…"

And it became a mantra for me not just on the bike, but in life as well.

It is important not to look where you are afraid of going, but look where you want to go.  Don't look at those deep ravines and think about what could go wrong, but look where you want to go!

The road with the drop off into the jungle.

The drop way down from the road into the ravine 400m below.

So as I embark on my next adventure in life I'm going to keep that in mind, and I'm only going to look where I want to go, keeping my eye on my ambitions and aspirations not on all the things that could go wrong.  And at the end, I will reach my destination faster and with more confidence than I ever thought possible.  Just as what happened on my last Sunday ride in Kuala Lumpur as I raced down that winding road.

Because at the end of the day, while life sure is about the journey, having some kind of destination in mind and keeping it in the line of sight isn't such a bad idea after all.

Looking where I want to go,

Joy

Marriage: Heavy Lifting Together

Joy here...When I started blogging (with my co-written blog East and West Running with Nomi, my Malaysia running buddy and adult BFF) I charted my workouts; blogging was a way of e-journalling how I felt as I learned how to train, but over time this blog has morphed as much into a place where I collect random thoughts as it is a place where I chart workout updates (such as this all-time favourite "The Dreaded Kid Question" post from last year or this conversation-starter "A Triumph of Mediocrity" about my ambivalent feelings towards Ottawa).

At one point, one of my friends had read a blog post and said to me, "you should write about how to fight in a marriage."  "What?" I thought.  "The Man and I fight?"  My automatic response was to pretend that The Man and I never disagree; that our life is filled with sunshine and roses; and that our true love shines bright and trouble free all day long.

Even though every songwriter the world over knows the connection between anger and love, there is great social and cultural pressure for regular people (like myself) to deny that disagreement is part of love...in fact, one of the best parts.

The Man doing some heavy lifting.

Learning how to fight with the person you love most of all in the whole, wide world is probably the most important thing you can do for your relationship.  In my view, it's in the moments of genuine disagreement when we can open ourselves up and trust our partners enough to go to a place of disagreement with us, knowing that the relationship will still be standing at the end of it all.

What I've started to learn over time is that the best disagreements come from productively trying to see the other person's point of view.  In that sense, both partners are actively trying to see through the other's eyes, rather than convert the other to his/her point of view.

The WOman doing some heavy lifting.

It can be a lot of hard work to disagree this way - to always try to empathize - but in my experience, it's worth it when both partners try to do some heavy lifting.

But then again, you don't have to take my word for it.  I've only been married for 5 years, and The Man and I say that our relationship is still very juvenile as we figure things out along the way.

But we're willing to figure it out together.  And I hope whoever you love is willing to figure out how to fight with you too.

Over and out,
Joy

I'm a lover not a fighter, except when I'm not...

Joy here...I've been described by some as generous, giving, friendly, naive, or even kind-hearted.  I'm grateful to have such great people in my life who have such lovely things to say about me.

Of course, I think I may have them all fooled.

To be sure, I characterize myself as a lover not a fighter; I'd rather smile than frown; and I'll laugh before I'll cry.

I believe in giving lots of hugs and kisses; I believe it's better to give than receive; I believe in hanging on to good feelings and letting go of the bad ones; and I believe in offering the world trust first, and only distrust after being burnt.

I always first see the best in people, and I don't even have to try to be optimistic.

BUUUUT...

...when I've not been treated with the decency, integrity, or respect that I think I deserve; when someone tries to take advantage of me; or when the world turns its unfriendly face toward me, I am repeatedly surprised.  You'd think I'd learn.

You see, some people are able to be a bit more moderate.  They can gauge the world better with a more finely-tuned radar for the nuance of good and evil out there.  They can nip conflict in the bud before it blossoms into something ugly.  I respect that a lot.

Sadly, I don't seem to have these traits.

I am either a lover OR a fighter.  I'm most often a lover.  And when I'm not, I'm not.

What about you?  Are you a lover or a fighter or something in between?

Over and out,
Joy

PB Part 2: Confidence

Joy here...At the end of December I blogged about some PBs (personal bests), both within sport and outside of sport, taking a moment to celebrate some successes (an idea I borrowed from a former colleague of mine who first launched a "Boast Post" back in 2010, and has done so again in 2013 and in 2014, as a way of taking a moment to consciously and conscientiously articulate pride in one's accomplishments, an important notion for "women in the academy."  I'm no longer a "woman in the academy," but I'm still a woman, still a person, and still in need of the odd moment of self reflectivity that is positive and optimistic...boasting even).

It is, in some ways, my own little way of addressing what some authors have dubbed The Confidence Code, in describing the gap in confidence between men and women; which is also pretty much in keeping with Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In, in which she advocates a kind of female ambition that often ends up getting people's backs up:  ambitious women are "bitches" after all. (See this article on the New York Times debacle over the firing of Jill Abrahamson, a woman leader considered "pushy" and "brusque").

Well, I'm ambitious.  I may well be a bitch.  I leave that to others to decide, because I think I'm super duper nice, but I may not be the best judge.  But I am confident.

If you're not afraid of a confident woman, then read on, or in the words of Beyonce, "can you handle this?"  If, so, then enjoy my PB Part Deux Boast Post:

Getting ready for squats...

Yesterday, I ran out to the hill to do the hill workout as dictated by Coach Woods (the same hill that I used back in June when we first arrived in Malaysia), and for the first time ever since I tried doing a hill workout I actually found it easy.  I had to run up the hill 6 times, and usually when I do a workout like this, I start calculating how I can quit at the 50% mark after the very first run up the hill.  This time, I did all 6 and then thought, "gee, is that it?"

...almost a 6-pack, I swear!

Then today, I squatted 100kgs at the gym.  That means that I held a weight bar, loaded down with 100kgs on my shoulders, lowered myself into a squat position, and repeated that all while holding the 100kgs.  To put that in perspective, that's around 220Ibs; I weigh around 127Ibs or so.

Heck, I even think I've got the start of six pack abs...I've got more work before anyone's gonna call it a washboard stomach, but, heck, it's not too shabby for a lady closer to 40 than 20.

A Saturday night feast at our place
(notice the salad!).

We've been eating well, making a concerted effort to eat at home (and watch the booze intake, one of my Achilles heels).

A Sunday afternoon brunch at our place
(more salad!).

But life is more than sporting workouts and newfound fitness.  Even though I've been hitting some highs in the gym and being pretty consistent with my runs these days, there has a been a lot more going on in life that feel like PBs to me:  work is going amazingly well; I am surrounded by fantastic friends; people are generous with their time and insights, and I don't know how I'll ever repay many of them; I feel optimistic about my future; and I feel like I'm doing what I'm meant to do in this world.

You know that feeling?  That feeling when it seems like things are falling into place and you're on the path that - out of all the options in the world out there - is the right one for you, right now?  Well, that's how I feel these days.  Maybe instead of posting about PBs, I should call this one about my BP (Best Path).

And being on my BP, my friends, makes me confident.

And I hope that you too feel confident and happy with where you are right now and whatever path you find yourself on.  And more importantly, if you find that you aren't all that happy or confident on your current path...try to get onto a different one...find your BP!

Over and out,

Joy

The "More or Less" Approach is just More Less!

Joy here...In September 2013, once I had settled a bit into our new life in Kuala Lumpur, I had a dream that a cobra bit my butt, and decided that this dream should serve as my "wake up call" that I had let myself and my fitness slide.

So The Man and I started working out twice a week with a personal trainer, and I struggled hard to ride my bike and go for a run every now and then.

Here I am in December; a bit thick around the midsection,
don't you think?
I mean, I'm not one to fixate on weight, but those look
like chubby cheeks to me...both sets of cheeks!

If you've read this blog, you will see that from September to December, my posts were filled with various insights about how I wasn't really hitting my workouts and wasn't really reaching my potential.  I tried and tried not to whinge and not to beat myself up in those blog posts, but the thread that runs through them is a thematic of guilt and shittiness.

After our early December 10km running race through Angkor Wat, when I ran the slowest 10kms I have ever done, I started to feel things beginning to shift and change in me. So in my new year's blog posts (one just before the dawn of 2014 and a tongue-in cheek one shortly after 2014 had started), I began to be and feel more optimistic.

Through nothing magical, nothing special, nor anything greatly insightful, I began to be more consistent.  And what has made the difference?  Well, I slowly began to realize that my previous "more or less" approach to training just produced more less.  What has changed things has been gathering folks around me - my running coach and my trainer - who are very detail oriented.  Put another way:  they really know their stuff.

Coach Woods knows his stuff, and helps me to
pay attention to the nitty gritty details.

My running coach, Coach Woods, has not only broken down the running stride into its component parts for me, but he's been invaluable in helping me deal with the mental side of running.  He talked me down off the ledge when I was beating myself up; he's given me practical advice along the way (such as "I always want you finishing each workout, and run, faster than you started.  If this means, shuffling/walking, then that is what it is going to have to be.  The goal is to always end on a positive note!" and "Like we talked about before, stay relaxed, and just try to plug away and get the sessions in.  I don't care how fast you are running, I just want consistency!"); and he just really knows what he's talking about, so I've been able to trust him to guide me through the process of getting over some of my mental hang ups to be consistent.  All of this attention to detail - both physical and mental - has made a world of difference to my running.

Adam, his wife Selina, and May Ooi.

And then add to that expertise the fact that I'm lucky enough to work not only with an elite-level athlete in Coach Woods, but also with elite level trainers in former strong man Adam Martin and former martial artist Kok May Ooi at Bodytech, around the corner from our place in Kuala Lumpur, and I'm starting to see that paying attention to little details - the little unsexy details such as consistency and form - are the things that are making a difference to my fitness.  I tend to be a "big picture" kinda gal; I come up with grand theories, and I approach the world with titanic-sized ambitions, so it can sometimes be easy for me to lose sight of the small details.  But without attending to the small details, the titanic sinks.  It's the details that matter.

This is what happens when you don't pay attention to details.
All the ambition and potential in the world, and you can still sink.

And lo and behold...by ditching the "more or less" approach and adopting a true attention to detail,  from December to now the start of May, I have seen my body begin to transform.  Now I've mentioned before my vexed relationship to thinking about sport through the lens of bodies, but the truth of the matter is that when my body is looking and feeling strong and healthy, there's a pretty good chance that my mind (and even my spirit) are feeling strong and healthy too.  I see, now, that by just slogging away, bit by bit, I've been able to change my reality, and the physical side of things is merely an external manifestation of everything else.


My trainer at the gym has even remarked on my progress, assuring me that I've made the best progress out of all his clients in the shortest amount of time; I can't fit any of my clothes and found myself buying a new pair of jeans in a size I haven't worn since I was a teenager; I can't help but kiss my biceps every chance I get; I've now squatted 90kgs and am aiming for 100kgs; I have just signed up for my first running race of 2014 on Canada Day; and all-in-all I feel like the future looks bright for me.

Why haven't I made this progress before?

Why haven't I been this fit before?

To misquote Tennyson:  "mine is not to reason why, mine is just to do or die!"  Instead of lamenting my past where I thought I was making progress "more or less," now I'm just going to keep my eyes forward and enjoy the progress that I am, in fact, making thanks to attending to the nitty gritty details.

I'm fit.  I'm happy.  I'm healthy.  I'm productive.  And I will lead my own charge onwards!

Over and out,
Joy

Thank you, Malaysia!

Joy here...Life has gotten rather interesting lately.

Not only have The Man and I developed a super duper interesting product for our future (which is sooooo exciting, I can't even say), but I've reached a level of fitness that I don't think I've ever had before.

Feeling fit, happy, and healthy!

Even though I've not been blogging regularly, I've been keeping up with my running, my cycling, and my strength training.  Since January, I've turned over that new leaf and been consistent with my workouts, and it's paid off.

A village road (with Genting Highlands in the
distance) where we ride our bikes.

But the pay off isn't just in looking or feeling fit, but rather in feeling spiritually fit.  And it's this spiritual side of things that has come as a bit of a surprise.  I mean, I have figured out a while ago that when I'm in good shape physically, my brain works best, but I hadn't really given much thought to my spirit.  To be honest, I find a lot of "spiritual" stuff out there to be a bunch of mumbo jumbo, and with all due respect to people whose religions are near and dear to them, I've often found myself feeling rather suspect of organized belief systems.  So imagine my surprise when it started to dawn on me that being fit and healthy started to bring some knock-on spiritual effects.

Usually the spring is a really hard time for me, as I struggle with the sticky tendrils of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), as I try to get rid of the icky feelings winter brings and keep myself together until the arrival of summer (I first blogged about these feelings back in 2010).  But this year, being based in Malaysia, has allowed me to escape all those nasty SAD feelings.

The world painted green.

Instead of looking out the window at a snow-covered world with a milkwater sky and a chill in the air - which is enough to make me crawl under the blankets and forgo any workout plans - I've been able to recharge myself in the lush greenery of the tropics year round.

I've taken advantage of it by allowing the greenery to become my church.  Out into nature I head - either on my bike or running - and as the leaves of the trees have made me realize that the one word "green" is so radically in adequate to capture the myriad shades it encompasses, I've felt my batteries being recharged.  I feel like I'm living the life that I'm supposed to be living, and with that sense of "rightness" comes a sense of purpose and peace.

And I can't help but think that that sense of peace is the hallmark of spiritual health.

While fellow Canadian Alanis Morissette thanks India, if I could sing, I'd be thanking Malaysia!

Over and out,
Joy

Long Awaited Robbie McEwen Post

Joy here…I've been swamped by life, swamped by work, swamped by training, and swamped by just having a great ole time here in Kuala Lumpur.

Robbie McEwen winning the Green Jersey (for sprinting)
at the Tour de France for the third time!

But I'm now sitting down to catch up on some of my blog posts, and the one at the top of my list is a little bit of info about my January ride with Tour de France Green Jersey winner, Robbie McEwen.  I mean, even though this is a long overdue post, sometimes things - like wine and cheese - get better with age, and I assume that applies here as well.

One afternoon in January, The Man received a text on his phone from a friend saying "do you know who Robbie McEwen is?"  He showed me the text, and we were both jumping around:  "DO I KNOW WHO ROBBIE MCEWEN IS?  OF COURSE I DO!" The Man was much more cool and collected in his text response to his buddy, but I fired off a quick message, something like:  "OMG! Robbie McEwen! Is he coming to town? Can I meet him? I'm a hilarious dinner guest!"

To make a long story short, while our buddy didn't get us into a VIP dinner with Robbie McEwen, he did get us into a VIP 70km bike ride with him and about 8 other folks.

Yep, so I'm the only girl with these guys waiting for
Robbie to show up!

I was the only girl.

We rolled up to the hotel in downtown KL for the start, met up with Robbie, made a little small talk, and then rolled out through the city streets, complete with a car escort!

We road in a two-person wide pace line (basically two rows of single file riders staying tight together), riding at around 33km/hr over rolling terrain through the city and out to our regular 15km hill to ride up that with Robbie and the rest of the guys.

As the ride began, I was super nervous - Will I be able to keep up? I'm out of shape. Will everyone ride away from me? Will I embarrass myself?  Can I do this? - but as the ride went on, I felt amazing.  My legs responded to the dynamic of the group riding, and the anxiety in my chest and in my tummy faded with each pedal stroke.

Robbie was smooth and relaxed on the bike, riding back through the group to spend time beside each of us - really pro and really classy.

As the pitch of the hill began to creep up up and up, I could see the stronger riders - The Man included - begin to pull away from me.  There were about 5 of them, and I either didn't have the technical skill nor the strength in my legs to keep up with them.

The Man, Robbie, and me!

The good news is that there were about 4 guys behind me dropping fast.  I could still see the stronger group just ahead of me, but those behind me were long gone.

So I settled in and found my rhythm to climb the rest of the way.

I felt strong.  I felt good.

Then the faster guys had turned around and started the descent, when I was only about 1km from the top.  "We're heading back!  C'mon!"  They urged me, so I turned around and followed them, watching The Man and Robbie descend with a skill that I could only admire, but not emulate.

But as I rode down, trusting my bike and trusting my skill, I was able to stay with one of the stronger riders, following his lines.

And to my surprise, when we reached the other, slower, riders down the slope, they were much farther behind me than I was behind the faster guys.  It was quite the ego boost!

Fabian Cancellara powering away to win the Tour de
Flanders for the third time this 2014.

So then we were all tearing down the hill at breakneck speeds, and as we reach a false flat where the terrain rolls ever downwards - my favourite part of this ride - I just pedalled my little heart out.  I was behind that faster guy until he passed a truck and I, being a little more conservative, settled in behind the truck until I felt it was a bit safer to pass.

As I waited, one of the other guys caught up to me, and we rode together for a while.  Once the truck was out of our way, chin on shoulder, I shouted:  "Let's go!"  I shifted into the big ring and rode like Fabian Cancellara.  I looked over my shoulder, and the lean cyclist in full kit who looked like a pro wasn't able to keep up with me.  I was going over 45km/hr, and I just kept on going.

I regrouped at the bottom of the hill and rode home with The Man, Robbie, and the rest, feeling strong and good.  I was able to ride smoothly and easily through the stop lights and KL traffic, feeling at ease and comfortable, while I could hear other riders behind me unable to catch their breath.

As we parked our bikes and sat at the cafe for our post-ride coffee and chat, I felt good about myself.  Not only did I hold my own, I wasn't the slowest or weakest out of our little VIP group.  Sure I wasn't the strongest (obviously that award goes to Robbie), but I wasn't the worst.

And, I was the only girl.

Robbie and me!

I held my own and had a once-in-a-lifetime experience to ride with one of the pros who inspired me and got me into watching and caring about road racing as a fan.

All in all, not a bad way to spend a Friday morning in January.

Over and out,
Joy

"It's Just Ballast"

bal˙last

n.

Heavy material that is placed in the hold of a ship or the gondola of a balloon to enhance stability.

Joy here…You know the song by Sir Mix-a-Lot, "I like big butts…"?  (Now I dare you not to have that song stuck in your head all day.)  Well, that song is kind of like my theme song.  Not only do I dance to it any chance I can get (including the weddings of my friends and my own wedding, or at high school graduations - not my own), but it also kind of encapsulates my physique:  "little in the middle, but she got much back…"

This was struck home to me (forcefully) just the other night.

We were invited to dinner where we would get to see a guy that The Man rode with on his very first ever road ride here in Malaysia.  That was almost 20 years ago, before The Man knew anything about lycra or slim road cycling wheels, before I had ever met him or knew that he existed on the other side of the world just waiting to meet me, the most awesome woman ever who would become the most awesome wife ever.  He was just a kid riding a mountain bike, wearing baggy shorts, and hanging out with the Europeans.

The guys riding "back in the day" (c. 1998).

Well, one of these Europeans was paying a visit to Malaysia, and I would get to meet him for the first time.

Upon meeting me, he immediately compliments me saying that I look like a cyclist.  Now before I got a chance to get all chuffed and feel good about myself, he immediately says (in a thick Austrian accent):  "no extra up top; you don't need anything up there" (gesturing to my non-existent boobs), "it's just ballast," he concludes smiling away at me.

Who knew that needing nothing more than a AA training bra well into my 30s would translate into me having a great cycling physique?  I guess I wouldn't have spent so much time as a teenager wishing that my boobs would eventually grow (which they didn't) had I known that really all they are is unnecessary ballast!

Let's just say that compared to me, this girl
is positively buxom.

Dammit, Walter, where were you when I was 15 and suffering from low self esteem due to flat chestedness?

Can't wait to ride with him this week and show him what my power butt, unfettered by excess ballast on my chest can do!

Over and out,
Joy

Backsliding on the Blogging, but Living the Life!

Joy here…While it's been a while since I've had a chance to sit down at my computer and update my blog with my sporting progress (and some random thoughts that dance across my mind and out through my typing fingers before I know it), and usually these kind of lapses indicate that I've fallen off the workout wagon and have missed all my workouts, backslided into laziness, and generally turned into a bit of a lump (Exhibit A: this post from May 2013).

Then, like some high school girl whose mood swings are as violent as that crazy pirate ship ride that every carnival seems to have and that I always ride on no matter how it makes my stomach twist and twirl and flutter, I settle down to blog again and subject my poor readers (you know, like all 3 of you) to wading through my self-flagellation as I swear that I'll be better next time, and and won't fail; I commit to new levels of sport and high-mindedness, and then, inevitably, it all just follows the same, predictable pattern all over again.

Well, fear not, dear reader, this time, things are different!  This time I've not been absent due to failings and flaws; I've not been avoiding my computer, because I don't want to face logging all my missed workouts; I've not been lounging on the couch playing angry birds hour after hour, nor have I felt my midsection begin to increase at an exponential rate, related, directly to my alcohol consumption.

No, no, this time, I've not been a good blogger logging my progress because I've been damn busy…but busy in a good way, not busy in the "geez, I've not hit my workouts, because I've just been so darned busy" sense of the word.  This time I've been busy with work; I've been busy with life; AND I've been busy with workouts.  Somehow I've fit everything in (more or less), and only let the writing about it fall by the wayside.

And really, if you've been out there LIVING life and not having time to write about it, that's not a bad thing, is it?

I promise to catch up on some of my blogging updates, because there are some good highlights to come…here's a bit of a summary of some of the goodies:

• I did a super cool, futuristic bike fit that used motion sensor technology to situate me on my bike properly, increasing my power and decreasing the possibility of injury (now when I say "motion sensor technology," think WETA Workshop technology that allowed for Andy Serkis to embody Gollum in the LOTR series of movies - and if that means nothing to you, find the closest geek and ask them to translate).
  
• I've both squatted and dead lifted over my body weight at the gym - challenging myself to lift more and do more than I would have ever thought possible, all while having a whole lot of fun!

• I have gotten back into running over the past couple of days since straining a muscle - putting in an easy 9kms (without whining), including revisiting the monkey loop.

• I had a bit of a hamstring/calf injury (that I'm still nursing a bit), but instead of just throwing in the towel and giving up entirely on running, I've ridden my bike like nobody's business and layered in some swimming as much as I can in order to compensate.

• I've done some truly epic rides - not only riding 70kms in a group just to be able to justify amazing banana pancakes made at a grass-roofed cafe in a small town outside of KL, but also riding with Robbie freakin' McEwen of Tour de France fame (this will get its own blog post in due time, because, well, it was just so FREAKIN' AWESOME).

So I'll do my best to keep on blogging and keep on updating…but I'm also going to be busy doing my best living and loving life!

Over and out,

Joy

Malaysia Boleh!

Joy here…Let me be clear right at the start:  I'm not Malaysian; I'm not a Malaysian scholar, and I'm not even all that up on the ins and outs of Malaysian socio-political history or culture; I don't speak Malay; I'm not even lain lain ("other") in the parlance of Malaysian ethno-cultural groupings, but merely an ex-pat, a Mat Salleh, someone forever marked as an outsider.

That said, I love this place.  I love the culture; I love the food; I love the climate; I love the craziness of it all, and I love the sense that this chaotic city gives me that anything and everything is possible.

But most of all I love the people.

Now I spent a good part of my adult life in universities theorizing the complicated hybridized identities emerging out of the liminal sites where the divisions, fractions, and fissures of nomenclature fail to capture the multiplicities that we all possess and embody, so I'm not about to make some grand generalization about how all Malaysians are nice or all Malaysians are friendly, but dammit, it sure does feel that way!

So I'm a bit dismayed at the current row over whether or not the Catholic Church in West Malaysia will be allowed to use the word "Allah" in its Malay language bibles and materials to refer to the Christian God rather than the Muslim one.  The government's stance is that it can't use the word, and the other side says that it can.  Emerging out of the two sides of this controversy has been some harsh words and the potential for ugly behaviours.

To be clear, I don't want to wade into this bruhahaha at all.  I'm not going to pick a side, and I'm not going to make an argument one way or the other.  Heck, I haven't been in a church for a long time, probably since my sister was married in one (and that was back in 2006, and I had a big, black eye and was juiced up on some pretty serious pain meds, so I don't even think I should count that one since my memories are pretty hazy).  But what I will say is that all of these hard-line stances that some politicians are too happy to spout don't seem to tally with the everyday Malaysians (Malay or otherwise) who I come in contact with in my day-to-day life.  The Malaysians I come across are super friendly, people who love a good joke and a belly laugh, and people who are only too happy to sit down for makan.  In fact, I'm starting to be convinced that Teh Tarik may just be the route to world peace.

Cycling cures the world's ills!

Every weekend as I kit up in my cycling gear and head out for my bike ride, I enter into a world where smiles, waves, and cheering seem to be the order of the day.  And I don't just mean out there with other cyclists.  Sure we cyclists wave to each other as we pass each other (or get passed), and we're quick to stop at the side of the road to check on a fellow cyclist who may have had an accident or mechanical incident on the bike.  But it's not just people out there pedalling who are friendly.  The guys and gals riding by on their motorcycles make sure to give me a wide berth; sometimes I get a friendly honk and/or wave.  When the big lorries are stuck behind my slow-moving cycling self and can't pass because the road is winding, they wait patiently, and as I wave them by when the road is clear, I often get a little toot of their horn and a wave.  This weekend, as two separate cars at two different points in my ride drove past me, children waved and smiled out of windows that they had rolled down expressly for that purpose.  The smiles on their faces were beautiful, and maybe they'll be inspired to ride a bike!

Malaysia Boleh!

So when I read the news headlines and get discouraged, I just need to head out there on my bike and have interactions with the everyday folk to remind me of all the great things about people here, no matter what their "race," category, religion, political beliefs, or gender may be.

And maybe if some of those who have nasty things to say would ride their bikes they might have fewer nasty things to say (or at least they just might be too out of breath to say them!).

Over and out,
Joy

I'm a Leader not a Follower

Joy here…I've been trying to get into the habit of heading out on Saturdays and Sundays to ride my bike up a 15km climb nearby; on a good day it takes me around 54minutes to complete the climb, and on a bad day it takes me around 58minutes.  One of the women who I've met on this bike ride has a Personal Best time up the hill of 49:30, and some people take over 2 or even 3 hours to complete the climb.

I usually ride with The Man, but sometimes some other friends join us.  And I've learned something important about myself on these rides.

I'm a leader not a follower.

What I mean is that, when someone races past me (or us), going full-steam ahead, The Man is often motivated to chase them down.  When someone better at something - even something non cycling related - appears in his sights, it is his habit to pursue them and do what it takes to be able to improve so that he can be competitive.  It is a trait that I certainly admire in him.

It is a trait I don't have.

My bike stats for today's ride.

You see, when someone rides past me going fast, my automatic response is "good for you!"  Often I'll cheer someone on, or give them encouragement.  And when The Man urges me to chase them down, I find that I actually ride slower than when I just ride at my own pace.

And when am I fastest?

It's not when I'm chasing someone, and it's not even when I'm just riding along without any goals (as I mention in this blog post that I don't do well without clear goals).  In fact, I ride fastest when I think someone is chasing me.

Are you the one who chases, or are you the one
who is chased?

I first noticed this last summer when I was riding in the park in Ottawa and the group of male cyclists gave me a head start, and I expected them to breathe down my neck at any moment; when, in fact, it took them a good, long time to catch up to me.  And then a couple of weeks ago, we started ahead of some other friends of ours, and the whole time I expected them to catch up with me, but they never did.  Today, The Man had to complete a Time Trial up the climb, and so we only rode together for about 10 minutes, and then he headed back down to the bottom to do his warm up and then ride hard to the top.  I expected him to come roaring past me at any moment.  And before I knew it, I was at the top of the climb and hadn't been caught.  I finished in 53:49, a new PB for me.

I don't know what's the psychology behind chasing or being chased, but I'm becoming more and more comfortable with the fact, that I'll do much better if I feel like I'm being chased than if I have to get out there and chase someone else.  I think, in life, there are chasers and those who are chased.

And I suspect that this is a life lesson for me, not just an insight of how to get the best cycling performance out.

Now what exactly that life lesson is, I don't quite know…but surely it's something deep and insightful, right?

Over and out,
Joy

Mad Sally Goes Pee

Joy here…Last week, as many of you will have read, I had a very near miss with a poisonous Malaysian coral snake (a lovely orange specimen that I wish I didn't see quite so close up).  Well, this week I found myself out there riding the same route, up the 15km climb, and needing a pee break by the side of the road once again.

Filled with fear, I lay my bike down in the grass and stepped forward into the foliage, and this is what happened:

-----Mad Sally Goes Pee-----
Out there under the sun on my bike,

A road bike, not a motorcycle or a trike, 

I suddenly felt the need to pee.
"Oh no," I thought, "can it really be?

I went potty just before leaving,
Surely I don't need to be relieving

Myself so soon!"  But of course,
I couldn't hold it, couldn't force

Myself to just keep riding
Without first heading and hiding

In the bushes so that this Mad Sally
Could find a spot to go pee.

Last time I found a bush
And bared my tush

I stepped on a deadly snake.
The mere memory made me quake.

So what was I to do?
(At least I didn't have to poo!)

I decided to be bold.
For that pee I couldn't hold!

I went to the very same spot
That last week was so fraught.

I stomped all around
Scanned the entire, leafy ground.

Sure that I was in the clear
I showed the jungle my rear,

And felt some relief
And came to no grief.

The snakes stayed hidden,

Both banished and forbidden

As I did the dirty deed
With the very utmost of speed.

So I conquered my fear
As no snakes came near.

But I'm still going to try
To not be the weird guy

That everyone sees
Every time that she pees!

I sure would like it a lot
If I could find a convenient pee pot!
-----THE END-----

So it turns out that I was able to overcome my fears of snakes lurking in my specific peeing spot, but it would be even better if there were toilets somewhere that I could use.  I mean, at the spot where we park the car at the start of the ride, guys just line up on the side of the road and let 'er rip.  And all along the 15km climb up to the top of the hill, guys are able to pull over to the side and just stand there and pee.  It's only girls who have to wander into the jungle.

Oh well…wish me better luck tomorrow so that I'm able to hold it in for the whole bike ride…

Over and out,
Joy