“You Can’t Tame The Goat”

Posted on August 6, 2011 by Jan C. Johnson

It was too hot to be outside at all, let alone pedaling a bike up hills and over little backroads that meandered past dairies and other aromatic sites. But that’s exactly what our son Greg and I were doing a few Saturdays ago. Brent had taken us down to Cleburne, Texas for the annual “Tour de Goatneck” rally. Hundreds and hundreds of other cyclists had come to tackle the 69-, 41-, 27- or 10-mile route.

Brent took off with the 69-milers, many of them racers, and headed for the Paluxy River Valley at a rapid clip. Greg and I, in training for the half-century “Hotter’n Hell” at Wichita Falls, had registered for the 41-mile route. We would start out together, but knowing that college-age guys are made of rubber and stainless steel cable, I figured he would outride me. So I had told him not to worry about keeping me company but to go at his own pace. We agreed to catch up with each other at the second rest stop.

Then as we rolled toward the staging area I stopped right in front of him and made him fall off his bike. He graciously forgave me for this “Mom FAIL.”

Once underway, the actual ride went better. We stayed together through thick and thin, and stinky dairy cows, until the second rest stop. As we were ready to start out again, Greg found his back wheel rubbing one of the brake pads. Apparently the wheel was out of true. Unable to adjust anything to make it better, we just released the brake so he could keep rolling.

I settled into a sustainably easy pace after our stop, while Greg got a second wind, so he got away from me. No matter. I was having fun despite the hot day. Some clouds even blew past overhead, giving a little welcome shade.

As I approached the last rest stop, where we would turn away from the wind, I spotted Greg waiting at the edge of the road. He had beat me there by seven or eight minutes, time enough to eat a PB&J and get acquainted with a guy riding a fixie, more power to him. He was ready to go, so we pressed on. With the tailwind, I kept up with him more easily, and we finished just about twenty yards apart: tired, stiff and very red in the face. (Oh, wait, that was just me. Being made of rubber and stainless steel cable, Greg seemed as fresh as ever.)

I earned this shirt, baby.It wasn’t until after showering and changing that I unrolled my ride T-shirt to have a look at it. The front has a small logo with the date. The back shows the front half of a muscular, snarling goat in a sleeveless jersey, his hands (hands??) on the brake-lever hoods, which appear to loom aggressively toward you. Above the picture is the legend, “You Can’t Tame the Goat!”

That set me to thinking… this was one challenging ride, and I thought Greg did a great job. I finished stronger than I expected to, as well. We didn’t exactly tame that goat, but we had a great time butting heads with him. Greg and I encouraged and looked out for each other. And all three of us had some good stories to tell over lunch. All in all we enjoyed a very satisfying day.

So, until next year, Mr. Goat….

Thanks for reading!
Tailwinds,
Jan
PS: Next, a three-part series called “What I Did On My Summer Vacation”

Posted in Thoughts on Two Wheels | 1 Comment

“Thin Places” (Book Review)

Posted on July 25, 2011 by Jan C. Johnson

I finished this book a few days ago and have placed it on my virtual shelf. Painful as it was to read Mary’s story, every chapter still rang with hope. I encourage everyone to read this book, easily available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble or WalMart. (To my Soli Deo Gloria sisters who have linked up: I think we can all relate to Mary in at least some area of life.)

DeMuth, Mary E. Thin Places: A Memoir. Zondervan, Grand Rapids, 2010. Everyone knows that kids can be mean. All parents, teachers and caregivers make mistakes, too. So no one can claim to have enjoyed a perfect childhood, but Mary DeMuth suffered an extraordinary amount of trauma throughout her early years. In this memoir, because of the “Thin Places” perspective she has gained, she traces her life back through the most tragic episodes without bitterness. She explains on page 11:

The Celts define a thin place as a place where heaven and the physical world collide, … where eternity and the mundane meet. Thin describes the membrane between the two worlds, like a piece of vellum, where we see a holy glimpse of the eternal — not in digital clarity, but clear enough to discern what lies beyond.

Looking back, DeMuth sees each incident in her life as a “thin place” where she realized her need for God; where she caught a sense of the Son of God beckoning her to trust him. With great courage she describes her own scars and weaknesses and relates how Christ’s healing power and love have been working all along to make her whole.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Posted in Everybody Has a Story | 7 Comments

High-Vis. When Being Roadkill Just Isn’t An Option.

Posted on July 21, 2011 by Jan C. Johnson

I really love the rugged, whimsical designs of those earth-tone and camouflage jerseys favored by mountain bikers. But don’t get one for me, even if it’s my birthday. One small detail keeps them from being the perfect gift:

I Will Not Wear Them.

Call it paranoia if you want; I view it as being “cautious.” It’s all about being seen on the bike.

I’ve been this way ever since the morning in 2005 that I came within inches of being flattened by a pickup whose driver then asked, “But where did you come from?” as I picked bits of asphalt out of my shoulder. My bike had been totaled. Fortunately her bumper had knocked me off the bike, before she ran over it despite her brake-squealing attempts to stop. I just got a little road rash.

I had thought I was pretty visible on that ride, in my abstract royal blue/purple/bright yellow jersey. But a lone cyclist is so small that if we want motorists to see us, our visibility needs an extra boost.

Now, every time I get ready to ride, I look through my selection of jerseys with survival — not fashion — on my mind. Cool retro design in navy and rust? No. I have not put that jersey on since the crash. Solid white? Too bland; too close to the color of the pavement. My favorite red one with the bold Austria-esque “Republic of Anaerobia” emblem? Better, but even red isn’t very eye-catching at a distance. Maybe if I’m riding with a group. And if it’s really sunny. I’ll also wear my gradient blue & white with a bit of intense red-orange on the back, again on a bright day.

What about cloudy days? Ah, then I pull out the big guns: the retina-searing fluorescent tennis-ball yellow, or the sleeveless day-glo orange. Now we’re talking! I also have a bright turquoise that I feel pretty safe in. You wouldn’t expect blue to be especially visible, but Brent wore a shirt that color while we were in the redwood forest in California, and I could easily spot him through the trees from fifty yards away. They aren’t perfect: the turquoise and orange ones have only one pocket, while the fluorescent one is baggy and tends to annoy me by flapping. That’s a small price to pay for reducing the chance of ending up as roadkill, but still. My choices seemed pretty limited and kind of boring.

Brent has a racing jersey from B&B, our local bike shop in Cedar Hill. I admired their design: kelly green with both black and white for contrast. Pretty bold, but… I mostly ride through wooded areas, and just couldn’t bring myself to wear a green that so closely resembled the color of trees. Last Friday, though, Brent came home from work via a side trip to B&B. He had brought me a women’s B&B jersey. Same design in a particularly lurid, disturbing sort of lime green instead of the darker green.

And right there, in front of his visiting mom and sister, I shouted, “Honey — that’s the most obnoxious color I’ve ever seen!” Then I threw myself into his arms and went on, “Thank you SO much! I love it!”

I wonder why Mom and Jennifer seemed “visibly” puzzled.

Thanks for reading!
Tailwinds,
Jan
PS: It’s coffee time with Rachel Anne and the Company Girls. Come over and join us!

Posted in Thoughts on Two Wheels | 12 Comments

Book Review

Posted on July 14, 2011 by Jan C. Johnson

It has been 2 1/2 months, more or less, since I last added a book to my virtual shelf. Not because I haven’t read anything, but because I keep starting new books and not finishing any of those I had already been reading. But, as part of my new, improved, more organized, Back-In-The-Saddle routine, I decided not to start any more new projects or books until I have completed those in progress. When it came to reading, then, I picked up my most-nearly-read book and… well… turned over a new leaf.

The title is taken from a work by Ring Lardner, a US jazz-age writer.Noble, William. “SHUT UP!” He Explained: A Writer’s Guide to the Uses and Misuses of Dialogue, Paul S. Ericsson, Middlebury, Vermont, 1987 (more recent editions are also available). In Part A, Noble teaches how dialogue can develop character, establish setting and move your story forward. He backs up each principle by analyzing specific examples from published works, often showing how the same passage would “fall flat” if the writer overlooked the principle. Part B zooms in for more detailed examples, more subtle ways in which dialogue can add power to a narrative. Noble includes helpful advice specific to short stories, novels and non-fiction. He cannot of course cover every contingency. But I plan to keep this book handy for reference because, as Noble himself says, “…the bases are covered, and what is there will serve the writer well” (84).

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Back in the Saddle

Posted on July 11, 2011 by Jan C. Johnson

Confession time… I’ve been something of a slacker for the last four months. At least, I gave myself a “leave of absence” from my magazine work, starting the last week or so of my sister’s life. After notifying my coordinator and finishing my last assignment in progress, I turned my full attention to getting Sis’s affairs settled.

It isn’t that estate business took all my time. Theoretically, I could still have scheduled interviews and drafted/polished the features. But things would crop up — information to gather and submit, filing deadlines to meet, people to notify, bills to pay and appointments to set up. These tasks often came unexpectedly, and always took longer than you would think. A flexible schedule was a must. Besides, dealing with my sister’s business because she was gone took an emotional toll that would have made it difficult for me to focus on feature writing. My mental health demanded some down time. I could not afford to be over-scheduled.

Bit by bit, the rush jobs and tedious chores got done. By June my schedule had cleared enough for me to truly enjoy the writer’s workshop I attended in Colorado. I returned home, full of inspiration and tools from the workshop. Aside from a few blog posts, though, I never seemed to get around to writing.

My days were now too relaxed… no deadlines, no particular stress, not even a schedule. Each day found me just floating along, dawdling over Facebook, email and — much as I hate to admit it — computer solitaire. Oh, I’d do laundry and fix meals and all, and ride my bike some, but most of my time just got frittered away. Not a scrap of motivation or creativity remained in my head. I still felt as if I could not take on any more tasks… and yet, I wasn’t actually doing anything.

Somebody needed some structure in her life.

Finally I met with Sandra, my awesome coordinator, and invited her to send me a couple of assignments for the next round of magazines. They arrived last night via email. It felt strange but quite satisfying to copy the details into my freelancing schedule and plot the mileage to the subjects’ addresses as I used to do. My email reply to Sandra reads, in part, “It’s good to be back in the saddle. Or the desk chair; whatever…”

I have not even reached the subjects yet to schedule appointments, but I already notice a spring in my step. My to-do list is collecting check marks instead of dust, and ideas have begun to rattle around in my head. (This blog post serves as proof.)

As near as I can figure, except for short vacations, too little structure and stress is as bad as too much. We all need some sense purpose for each day. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have some piles of books to organize, calls to make, errands to run . . .

Thanks for reading,
Jan
PS: I’m not the only one who has needed a break. Many of my Soli Deo Gloria sisters can relate, too. You are welcome to click over and see how Jen and friends recharge.

Posted in Near As I Can Figure... | 7 Comments

Gone in a Flash

Posted on July 6, 2011 by Jan C. Johnson

What determines the end of youth? Is it having kids? No, lots of parents still look and feel quite young. Maybe it’s when those same kids start saying you are old? Pffft, mine would do that if I were still 25. How about greying hair? Nah, that has nothing to do with it. Not to claim expert status or anything, but I knew in a flash when my own youth was gone.

A hot flash.

True, my complaints are very small compared to what others go through. I certainly don’t have the war stories that some of my sisters-in-age tell. I never even fogged my own glasses, stripped down to a sport bra in public, or rushed over to stand by the winning coach at the end of a football game just so I could get drenched with iced-down Gatorade.

But from the outside, no one can understand what even a mild flash is like. These flashes are so inexplicable that I’d like to speak for my fellow middle-aged-lady types, and set the record straight:

We Are Not Crazy.

We just seem crazy, what with feeling perfectly comfortable one second and desperately fanning ourselves/gasping for air the next. To you, nothing whatsoever has changed during that one second. To us, it feels as if we have been teleported from an air-conditioned building into a closed-up car in the parking lot. In July. With no shade.

Sometimes “Flash Onset” happens more slowly. I might simply be typing with my wrist touching the warm spot near the front edge of my laptop; hugging my husband; washing dishes over the sink; or wearing shoes. Any of these can kindle a glow which, if I don’t nip it in the bud (with a leap away from the heat source and/or some preemptive fanning), soon blossoms into an all-out Flash.

Whether we experience sudden- or gradual-onset Flash, we must fight back. If we are not within reach of the winning coach at the end of a football game when we first notice the Flash, we resort to other cool-down strategies, like patting our arms and face with cool water and letting them air-dry. And of course, if a heat source is causing the Flash, we must get away from it immediately. If said heat source is likely to get its feelings hurt at this behavior, then we’ll offer a word of explanation, Sweetie.

Wow — even as I type this, my wrist is feeling the heat from my laptop. And the room is starting to feel a bit… stuffy. As near as I can figure, that means it’s time to back away from the keyboard and relax with some ice cold Coke Zero.

After all, I’m not getting any younger.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

PS: I’m late to the party, but I hope you will visit some of my Soli Deo Gloria sisters! Not to mention Rachel and my sweet friends over at Company Girls!
jj

Posted in I Remember When... (my OWN stories), Near As I Can Figure... | 24 Comments