Romancing the Paluxy Pedal

Posted on February 24, 2015 by Jan C. Johnson

Ever since my first road-bike ride with Brent back in the ’70s, I’ve been hooked on cycling. I admit, it’s been an “on-again, off-again” relationship.

Umm… with the bike, not with Brent.

Many times the weather wasn’t friendly enough. Or I’m simply not in the mood to ride–though I’ve often found that if I just pull on the shorts and ride anyway, the mood will follow.

One thing that motivates me is a looming rally–an organized ride of, say, 30 to 50 miles with maps, port-a-johns, traffic cops, free food and Gatorade, etc. I train for those things, people. There’s nothing worse than shoving off with twelve hundred other riders, only to get dropped on the first hill by a scrawny eight-year-old. Or worse yet, lacking the stamina to finish the distance.

I used to try to keep up with faster riders. Not racers, of course. They just blow my doors off–or would, if my bicycle were equipped with doors. As it is, whenever racers flash by me I feel the bike shift a few inches to the left from the vacuum they create.

No, I’m talking about the threesome or foursome that passes me oh, so gradually. As they pass, I try to match their speed, hoping to stay in their draft and keep up.

This blissful state of affairs generally lasts less than a mile. Then I watch as a gap between me and the stronger riders forms, growing wider and wider until they pull away over the horizon. Typically, I fume at myself for being so puny. The ride stops being fun. Cycling is too demanding a relationship partner.

Until the last Paluxy Pedal rally, that is. This early-October ride, at Glen Rose, Texas, offers plenty of hills to climb. Plenty of opportunities to get dropped and feel inadequate.

But last fall, it finally clicked: I’m not a racer. Why should I beat myself up over my lack of speed? Why not go at my own pace and enjoy the day? What, seriously, is the rush?

Yeah, it LOOKS flat, but that was actually a pretty decent climb.

Yeah, it LOOKS flat, but that was actually a pretty decent climb.

And so that morning I rode along, happily greeting riders who passed me — as well as the few that I actually passed. I soaked in the feel of sun on my skin and the wild beauty of the rolling prairie. Reveled in my changing pedal cadence as I shifted gears, finding the “sweet spot” that made for efficient climbing. Twice I stopped at the top of hills to take pictures.

Why, it was. . . it was fun!

As in any relationship, my “romance” with bicycling improved dramatically once I laid down my unrealistic expectations (in my case, that I should keep up with “those” riders). I have to accept myself for who I am, accept each ride for what it is–terrain, weather conditions and all. Then just roll with it.

Of course I still train. I work to improve my technique and gain strength. When I push myself, I get to where I can enjoy bigger challenges. Meanwhile, during each ride I try to remember to be content with where I am right now.

How about you? Do any unrealistic expectations keep you from enjoying life? Do you work at change or improvement? If so, how do you balance ambition with contentment? Tell me about it in the comments below.

Thanks for reading!
Tailwinds,
Jan

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Lifestyle or “Statement?”

Posted on February 17, 2015 by Jan C. Johnson

Lately I’ve been seeing lots of kerfluffle about “minimalism.” Premise: we Americans tend to live with way too much stuff. Endlessly marketed to, we buy into the idea that we must have more, bigger, better… stuff. Yet the stuff we thought we needed often lies unused. Mere clutter. Managing that clutter sucks up our time, energy and money–even as we pursue more stuff.

See? I can do minimalism too. There is absolutely NOTHING sitting on that placemat.

See? I can do minimalism too.
There is absolutely NOTHING sitting on that placemat.

So, lots of people are shifting into a “minimalist” lifestyle, doing away with stuff they don’t use. Like 80% of their clothes (since they only like and wear 20% of what’s hanging in the closet). Or unused furniture or extra sets of tools and saucepans.

Those who jettison their clutter report feeling lighter, freer. They have more space and air in their homes, more time and attention for their families. “Minimalising” sounds like a project well worth the effort!

As with any popular idea, though, some self-proclaimed experts are bound to jump in there and tell everyone else how to carry it out… sometimes without really thinking, apparently.

Last week our newspaper ran an AP home-decorating feature about repurposing books. Well and good, but one of the interviewees got a little carried away. She proposed buying books, covering them with white paper, and shelving them as a large-scale decoration. The photo showed a built-in bookcase with blank white book spines filling every other section (I’d say about 15 feet of shelves, total) in a checkerboard pattern. The alternate shelves contained flowers or framed art. “Books can be purchased by the foot,” the caption read, “and covered with white paper to create a minimalist statement.”

Waaaaaaait a minute…. You want me to go to yard sales, buy 200 pounds of books that I’m not going to read, spend hours covering them with white paper, and fill up half my shelf space with them?

To make a minimalist statement?

Puh-leeeez.

I literally snorted with laughter as the irony sank in. But that got me thinking about other good ideas taken to a silly extreme that defeats the original purpose. F’rinstance, take the “Red Hat Society.”

ORIGINAL IDEA: Middle-aged and older women shouldn’t have to fit some quiet, mousy “old lady” stereotype. Why not go a little maverick — put on colorful, mismatched clothes and get together with friends for some lunch, conversation and loud laughter?

EXTREME: License the whole concept. Impose rigid age and wardrobe restrictions, meeting times and membership rules. Sell stationery and decorative merchandise. Peer pressure will ensure women buy into all this to make a statement proclaiming their “freedom.”

It’s easy to be snarky but, as near as I can figure, inconsistency can sneak up on any of us. Hmmm… have I ever tried so hard to “make a statement” that my actions ended up contradicting my words? (Like maybe when if I yelled at my kids to “STOP YELLING!!” — a phenomenon I can neither confirm nor deny.)

Your Turn: Have you ever found a “statement” of yours backfiring? Do tell!

Thanks for reading!
Jan
PS: I am linking up with Jen and the Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood this week. I love these ladies!

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Return to Exile, by Lynne Gentry

Posted on February 10, 2015 by Jan C. Johnson

Return to Exile coverGentry, Lynne. Return to Exile. Howard Books, 2015.
The Carthage Chronicles, Book 2

From Amazon.com’s Book Description:

How far would you go to save the one you love?

Six years ago, impossible circumstances forced Dr. Lisbeth Hastings to leave behind the love of her life, not just in another country, but in another time. Her work as a top-notch epidemiologist and parenting her little girl help alleviate the pain, but at night, when her exhausted head hits the pillow, images of her beloved Cyprian haunt her sleep..

I found Return to Exile, the second book in The Carthage Chronicles series, as captivating as the first volume. Lynne Gentry’s fluid prose moves the story along with an ease that keeps the pages turning. Again, she immerses the reader in a world which I’m sure most of us have heard of but never really imagined. I rooted for (or hissed at, as needed) her well-drawn characters all the way through this second adventure.

The story is full of action and torn emotions, as love for the man she married during her first time-travel experience compels Dr. Lisbeth Hastings to return to third-century Carthage — despite the plague and persecution that rage. She has no way of knowing the changes that have happened during her long absence. Her place in the past is nothing like what it was when she left.

Still… armed this time with antibiotics, twenty-first-century medical tools and copies of historical accounts of Cyprian’s martyrdom, Lisbeth determines to rescue the ones she loves.

Can Lisbeth change history?

Should she?

Available from Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and at Christian bookstores.

While you’re at it, you’ll enjoy the e-short prequel to this title, Shades of Surrender. It recounts the love story of Ruth and Caecilianus, the beginnings of the church in Carthage and their relationship with the young Roman noble, Cyprian. Also from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

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I Blame it On The 70s

Posted on November 11, 2014 by Jan C. Johnson

I started high school in the early 70s, after some of the fake-ish fads like beehive hairdos, “go-go boots,” and frosted pink lipstick had mercifully fizzled out. Then the pendulum swung the other way. Now, for a fairly broad swath of young people, “natural” was in. Artificial conventions such as makeup, neatly trimmed hair, and personal hygiene? Out.

At our school we had a lot of girls both pretty and stylish, who still wore makeup and came to class looking quite snazzy. That wasn’t me. I dressed more like the “hippie-esque” set, or perhaps the merely awkward. To be precise, those with no particular sense of style. I mean, I showered and all, but sometimes I wore my brother’s old oxford shirts with my too-long bell-bottom jeans. Yes, to school.

And no makeup. Nothing against it, I simply couldn’t be bothered learning to put it on. There was too much other stuff to do.

Namely, at least from January into May, the Choir department’s Spring musicals. We rehearsed and performed the likes of Hello, Dolly! and The Music Man. Ah, The Music Man… now, that was a good year! I actually had a speaking role. What fun! I painted sets, made most of my costumes, memorized a bunch of other people’s lines along with my own, and generally spent a lot of time at the junior high, where we would perform. (It was the only school with an auditorium and stage at the time. Too bad it wasn’t air-conditioned.)

Eventually we got down to the wire: Dress Rehearsal. The girls all crowded into one classroom and piled our costumes on desks. Then we proceeded to do our stage makeup.

Wait, did I say “we?” Hah–that would be a gross exaggeration. I was utterly useless. Well, I could put lipstick on myself if I had a mirror. But then another girl asked me to apply her mascara. I froze. “Me? On your eyelashes?? But–what if I put your eye out?” She coached me through it with no major mishaps. Somebody else did my mascara, thankfully.

That was many years ago. Over time I did learn to put on makeup. Now I wear it most days, though I rarely take time to mess with eye shadow.

And mascara?

Well, perhaps I never quite recovered from the dress-rehearsal trauma, because I still have trouble with it. I’ll try a basic waterproof, which turns out to have a skinny little wand that, if possible, actually makes my lashes look shorter. Okay, so I’ll buy one with a “plumping” wand. The wand pictured on the package looks fine, but when I actually pull it out of the tube, it seems to morph into a bottle brush. I end up with what looks like shorebird tracks scattered from eyebrows to cheekbones, which must then be scrubbed off with cold cream and a Q-Tip.

Q-Tips: Buy stock.

But I’m determined to have long, pretty eyelashes, and not from mere vanity. For one thing, I have low-contrast coloring. Without mascara and lipstick I look like I have no features at all. This can upset young children. I’ve tried everything…

“No Clumping!” It clumps.

“Flexor Brush caresses lashes!” I don’t want my lashes caressed, thank you. I want mascara on them.

“Outrageous lengths!” Nope.

“Separates lashes!” They stick together in five chunks, so I resemble Betty Boop, only without cleavage.

And so I continue to practice, and search for the perfect mascara every few months, and wonder why I had to be a teenager in the 70s.

Maybe one day I will win this battle.

That’d be groovy, man.

Thanks for reading!
Jan

PS: I’m linking up with Jen and the Soli Deo Gloria sisters. Join us?

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How to Dye Your Hair a Fashionable Shade of Magenta Without Actually Trying

Posted on October 30, 2014 by Jan C. Johnson

This little freebie WordPress blog has a simple “stats” feature. It shows how many views my blog has had on each day, and the number of times each post was viewed.

Oddly enough, a quirky little post from over three years ago has been hit dozens of times in the past week or so. Why the sudden interest? No idea. However, I re-blog it here just for fun.
…

Jan C. Johnson's avatarJan C Johnson, Author

Step 1: Allow your hair to go grey. (If your hair is light blonde, either by nature or by art, you may skip this very time-consuming step.)

Step 2: Wash and dry the hair, then catch some of it back with a barrette so it doesn’t fall in your face. IMPORTANT: Grab less hair than the barrette will hold.

Step 3: Give your hair a dubious look in the mirror, then decide it will be fine.

Step 4: Go out and run errands all day, as bits of hair gradually work their way loose from the barrette and form a sort of curtain at either side of your face.

Step 5: Make sure your last stop before heading home is the grocery store.

Step 6: While in the store, notice that cherries are on sale. Buy a bag of these.

Step 7: Once back home, rinse the cherries. Observe that…

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What I Didn’t Know About Portland, Oregon

Posted on October 16, 2014 by Jan C. Johnson

A few weeks ago Brent and I flew to Portland to visit two of our favorite people: our son Greg and his wife, Katie. The whole time we were there, I had this odd feeling that we had traveled to another English-speaking country. We definitely weren’t in Texas anymore. Here are a few things I learned about Portland:

1. Portland lacks that ridiculous spraaawl of our Texas cities. You can actually get along for days without a car. This is more valuable than a small-town Texan might think, because parking in Portland costs roughly the same as housing. Greg and Katie walk everywhere, except Greg drives to work.

The nice, compact city of Portland. That's Mt. Hood in the background.

The nice, compact city of Portland. That’s Mount Hood in the background.

2. I fondly imagined PORTland as a coastal city and, therefore, flat. You know, like our Gulf Coast cities such as Corpus Christi or Galveston, many of which are flatter than the road maps of themselves. Boy, was I ever wrong! We found a few streets that were level for a block or two. Other than that, the area where we spent most of our time — traveling on foot, mind you — tilted at anything from an obvious slant to dizzying steepness.
Lest you think I’m kidding, here’s the street we had to walk up to reach Greg and Katie’s apartment building. I went anaerobic every time I dragged myself up that last block.

Even in a 2-D photo you can tell it's steep.

Even in a 2-D photo you can tell it’s steep.

3. Flowers and stuff grow like crazy in Portland. And, as much as I hate to admit it, everything is not necessarily bigger in Texas. Take these trees at Washington Park, and the gorgeous blossoms in the Rose Garden.

Those tiny figures are Katie and Brent.

Those tiny figures are Katie and Brent. The roses below were as big as my cereal bowls.

Giant white roses

4. The neighborhood where our B&B is located was every bit as hilly as the adjoining district where Greg and Katie live. Really? … Switchbacks on a residential street??

SO glad we didn't have to drive around this curve!

SO glad we didn’t have to drive around this curve!

5. If you try to take a photo of the city’s business / industrial district from a bridge, and there’s another car beside you, the resulting picture will look like a car ad.
Hmmm. Come to think of it, that would be true of any city. Never mind. City from bridge

6. I mean, how did people even build these cliffside houses? Where did they park the concrete truck?
See that brown line running up and down below the shrub? That’s a stairway, people!

7. On the other hand, the crazy hills did allow for rather nice sunrise views of the city.

8. I had no idea how cute the shopping district would be. We found all sorts of restaurants — even a couple of Mexican places, which we couldn’t quite bring ourselves to try because we were, after all, in the Pacific Northwest. We’d heard rumors.

Clothes, crafts, toys, jewelry, ice cream, you name it and you can find it in Portland.

Clothes, crafts, toys, jewelry, ice cream, you name it and you can find it in Portland.

9. And that cute shopping district is, as it turns out, a wonderful place to have a first “In Real Life” encounter with a dear online friend who was already like a sister to me. Jody Collins, you ROCK for driving down to visit (and eat, and, you know, shop).

10. The very best thing of all about Portland is that our sweet “kids” like it. They feel happy and at home there.

I came back to Texas contented with Greg and Katie’s situation, even though I missed them before we ever landed at D/FW. I also brought back a fresh appreciation for our mildly rolling hills.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Posted in I Remember When... (my OWN stories) | 12 Comments