Commute

cat’s paws on glass
dented side panel
dash lights that haven’t
worked in five years
bits of wrappings
from kids’ endless
candy expenditures
taped-on headlight
zip-tied bumper
broken visor
windshield crack
of spider-ice
locks and windows
you have to open
by hand
broken cup holders
too small for any drink
radio numbers
you can no longer see.

and you dare ask
how i could layer on
thick butt pad
sports-bra undershirt
two long underwear tops
one long underwear bottom
bike capris
two pairs of socks
two sets of gloves
a bandana, hat, scarf
a helmet and headphones
a saddle bag filled with
lunch and work clothes?

oh.
you missed
the silver sliver of moon
the last star of night
the windless morn
Aurora’s pink fingertips
painting the sky
the top of the hill home
where the curving road
presented its framed picture
of the city skyline
distantly mirrored
by snow-capped fourteeners.

i understand.
you would rather be warm.
i would rather have warmth.

Training for the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic

If you have decided to take the plunge and commit yourself to gaining 6000 feet in elevation while you race the Durango-Silverton train fifty miles to the top of a mountain, follow these steps to have a successful bicycle event.

1. Plan to train for at least fourteen weeks, at least six days a week.
2. Set your alarm for 4:30 a.m. Don’t push the snooze button. Ever.
3. Put on your appropriate bicycle gear. If you are riding on a trainer in your house, you’ll need bike gloves, bike shorts, and a decent pair of sneakers. If you’re riding outside in the winter, wear all of the above and add long underwear, bike pants, two long-sleeved bike jerseys, warmer gloves, a hat, and a helmet.
4. Mount your bicycle and, if you’re riding a trainer, set it for the highest level of resistance, and shift your derailleur to the highest possible gear. If you’re riding outside, map out a course that includes a circle with huge, steep hills in almost all directions.
5. Ride for at least fifteen miles for five days a week, and on the sixth day, ride for twenty-five, twenty-seven, twenty-nine, etc., until you reach fifty on the twelfth Saturday of training.
6. Taper off your training by ten percent between weeks twelve and thirteen so that your muscles have time to rest and build up.
7. In week fourteen, ride only three days for fifteen miles each time.
8. Drive to Durango. You’re ready to climb a mountain!

Fancy

i don’t need a fancy gym or P-90x
i just rode thirty miles with the Vittetoe Express
my bike, tag-along, and a trailer daisy chain
may look to others just a little bit insane

but you’re popping out seven hundred a year
i spent eleven on coffee and cheer
when it’s sixty degrees in January
my legs and arms made a workout fairy

yes, it took six hours to visit the zoo
but i still made a deal better than you
i didn’t sacrifice one moment from my girls
and that beats all the muscles from your fancy curls.

Heat

from pedals that won’t stop
for an hour battle uphill,
dry air pumping out of vents
trying to stave off winter,
muscles taut on my thighs
and hard-as-rocks calves,
the heat emanates,
even after sliding off the bike.

a lukewarm shower rinses
off bits of sweat, but it pops back
on my upper lip, my neck,
before i’ve even finished drying,
a reminder of how hot it will be,
how endlessly the pressure will build
as the heat of a May morning
rides with me to the top of the mountain.

Fifty-Seven

it takes two sisters
four hours to make
three pies
dessert for fourteen people
when we include
two of six aunts
two of seven uncles.
three platters of lasagna
and forty-two plates later
we celebrate
year fifty-seven of
my father’s life
who with two “old” legs
just rode
twenty-four miles up a mountain
and hiked three and a half
and still carries his four grandkids
wherever the
endless numbers add up to next.

Pedal My Way

with dry, windburned cheeks
and layer upon layer,
my headlamp prominent
as a beacon on my helmet,
i face this winter like no other.

it stands between now and the end,
these hills and my mountain,
and no matter how cold,
no matter the unending wind,
no matter the disapproving glances,
i will pedal my way to a better tomorrow.

Writing My Bike

it came to me in the summer.
Writing My Bike:
this should be the name of my new blog.
will i only write when i ride?
will i only ride when i write?

winter’s creeping in
with bitter cold mornings
that make my pedals run stiffly,
my layered legs tight with frost,
my mittened hands gripping
the first wisps of light on early mornings.

He may try, but Jack Frost can’t deter me.
i’ll be writing my bike to the top
of a mountain in May (racing a train),
and i need these legs to pedal me
through everything that will come
between now and then.

Use What Fits

i drank too much
and learned that i can fit
a day’s worth of clothes
a bungee cord
a pair of gloves
an oversized computer cord
a MacBook
and a six-pack of vanilla porter
in my saddle bag
(though the bike will tip if i let go).

this is a list poem
so let me add
that with the shower
the lack of wash cloths
and the realization
that towels were in the dryer,
he and i shared a single hand towel
to dry our dripping skin,
got out the exercise ball
and had us a real ball
(punny, right? it was.)

what could i fit in a Friday?
a five a.m. bike ride
seven classes
three 200-hundred-word posts
a happy two hours
with five friends at the bar
finishing my latest novel
dinner with my family
and love with my husband.

Dear Ball

You may sit,
a gluttonous ball of air
collecting dust most of the year.
but this exercise ball has bounce,
and if the district who offered you to me
knew what we’ve used you for,
they’d shake my hand for
burning the most calories
in the most creative fashion.
Thank you, ball,
for bouncing into my life.

Wind (Personified)

the wind tries to
dominate our day
but we pedal anyway

the wind beats up
giant clouds of dust
(to the pumpkin fest or bust)

the wind reaches out
to grab them from the air
but pumpkin launchers couldn’t care

the wind helps us
with a tailwind home
kicking up leaves wherever we roam.