Soapbox On A Bike

Maybe this should be my cycling blog. I hardly have more stories to tell than those.
My workdays go like this: I wake up at 5:45am. I get the boys ready for school and walk them to the bus stop, protecting the youngest from wild soccer ball kicks and wheelies in the stroller, attempted by his older brothers, usually the oldest. I go for exceptionally long walks with the all-terrain stroller which is a necessity in order to avoid boring sidewalks. I do laundry and I try to carry as many toys as possible anytime I cross the living room or climb the stairs. The foyer overlook is a great ramp for toy car, as well as an easy goal for footballs and soccer balls. I make return trips to the bus stop to pick up both of the boys separately, kindergarten is on a half-day schedule. I host jam out parties when I want everyone to be together. I save the kittens from stranglings, tail sprains, and dizzy circles. I am a dictator when there is homework or whining. Did I mention the stinky diapers?
Occasionally, I meet up with friends in the evenings, or if not, then I ride my bike or go for a walk. I read books a lot. I try to go to the library every week. I love that, too. Sometimes I talk on the phone with friends "back home." I eat home-cooked meals. I go to bed at 10:00pm. I like this lifestyle, abruptly changed from last year in good ole' college town U.S.A., Athens.
My weekends are completely different. Sometimes I am with the family but most times, not. I usually get out of the house and go somewhere, even if it's solo. I like to have a break from the work environment even if I'm not working.


Cycle Blog Begin: I've been riding Fish Trail again. I've graduated to figuring out how to change gears. I've conquered one of the hills on the return ride home. I had my first tumble.
Those are my biking accomplishments. Yes, I feel humbled and embarrassed to publish them on my blog, but my tumble makes me feel like I'm on the road to veteran-hood. I tried to hop a curb, from an acute (less than 90 degrees, go GRE) angle. It was unsuccessful, but as far as I knew there were no observers of the incident. Yes! And the gear change problem is partially not my fault. The back one is temperamental and only shifts to a higher gear once per ride.
But in great news, Julie will retrieve her newer bike from the lake house soon... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
[in blogging, at least my blogging, ellipses indicate a drum roll]

it has SHOCKS!!! Oh, how spoiled will I be to ride on graded gravel with something to protect my bum. This will surely make me an undeserving, pampered, beginner cyclist, especially after getting gloves to keep feeling in my fingers when I ride with the temperature hovering at 55. But to go over the top in indulgences I'd need to acquire a cycle-odometer to inform me of the distance I am covering. I really don't even know how long this trail is. By my Google Map guesstimate, I've probably ridden 7 miles in one direction on the trail, making a round trip of possibly 16 miles, starting point- the house.

I discovered Queen Lucus Lake which sits off of the trail to the east, at the bottom of a slope. However, this post is more like a requiem of the lake and it's splendor. I was unknowingly trespassing, as that section of the trail is indefinitely, temporarily close. So now that I found a gorgeous lake, now that I made it to within 2 miles of my final destination, well bolt that door, pull the gates, no more.
But alas, I'll share with you the beauty and excitement of it all. Its shade of blue reflected the sky and it changed to marshlands on its ends, with a snake-like stream trailing off on one of them. I saw herons all over the place. Usually when I see these anorexic swan lookalikes, it's only one or maybe two, but here I counted about five, some getting feisty and talking loudly, chasing others from their personal space. By the way, I like herons. I know they take no offense to that description. Some things have beauty due to their aesthetic shortcomings. And herons are especially pleasing to me because you usually have to sit and wait for them. So anyway, I also heard what I'll call "chirping". I knew it wasn't the ducks or the herons so I scanned until I saw dark bodies bobbing above and below the water. Otters!!! Yes, my first sighting of the playful cuties outside an aquarium.
Now the other side of the trail were impressive, tall rock walls steeply climbing to a top I could not see. But on an edge was a shack flying a rebel flag. Freaks me out!!! I realize that you may wonder why is this shocking, I am from the Deep South. Well, simply because I was naive in thinking that outside of my home region, such attitudes were mostly absent. By the way, that's far from the truth, I've since learned. I must now live in one of the whitest cities in America. No joke about that either, I think someone may have told me this, actually. The "Caucasian" population hovers around 97%. Goodbye, diversity. My hometown might have been closer to the 35%. I simply feel uneasy around people with strong, hateful notions of the world because I view it as a presence of evil. It's okay if you laughed just then. I realize also that I'm pretty idealistic sometimes. I mean my only pet peeve is mean people, after all.

What is caucasian anyway, other than the color of my skin? I could have so many other racial mixes and still come out caucasian, so what does that mean? Please, refrain from responding with denotation. And if a news anchor tried to be politically correct, substituting African-American for black, when talking about a Caribbean-American, would that be ignorant? Okay, I apologize for turning this post into a soapbox, yet I obviously decided not to delete it. It stays because though I feel racial statistics only reinforce racism, I use them, too. What detriment.



Will post pictures soon!!