It's May Twenty Oh Eight
So, I've been mostly successful with my latest commitments to myself: drawing and songwriting everyday. I find that I tend to have an easier time songwriting when I forget that there are other people around me and that when I draw, I have to forget there are other people around me to access all of the talent and experience I've garnered over the years.
Fascinating? Yes. To me.
I've also noticed that when I access that head-space (I can physically perceive a change in my head and body) and practice my photography gathering stock photos to draw from or just to have, the pictures I take then tend to be better than when I'm in a more social mood. I'm not really sure if that makes sense to anyone else but me. [I actually just shrugged.] Oh, well.
Yesterday, I had a wonderful bike-ride to work taking the west-side of Central Park's outer loop. The air was cool and fresh having just been cleansed by the rainstorm over the weekend; the pollen count was swirling into the sky since the rainstorm hydrated all of New York City's plants. Though My spring allergies were acting up--even through the screen of a generic Clariton--my ride was unencumbered and still very much enjoyable.
The loop was closed to car-traffic, opening-up the road to less crowded running, skating, walking, and cycling-traffic. There was a cycling pair which entered the park just after me who seemed to be training for a race or ride or something. They wore spandex and rode on carbon-frames with more than one gear to get them going. As we were climbing the hill, curving around a long bend in the road, one of them said, "Alright, I'll meet you at the bottom of the hill." I look to my right and see a very fit, older bicyclist downshift into a climbing gear and slowly, with steadily increasing pace, overtake me and then the hill. I could hear his riding partner pedaling behind me and so I decided I didn't want him to pass me, too, and pushed harder until I was catching my breath on the other side of the climb having kept him behind me.
It became a game to try to keep the slower guy--whom I perceived for the sake of this ride to be a less experienced rider than myself, whether he is or is not--behind me as we hit the next hill and the next. I love competition. I love competing with myself. I love competing with people even though they don't know I'm competing with them. I love competing with people who DO know I'm competing with them. I love being challenged and if it turns out that my skill/etc wasn't enough to top theirs/its, then I'm still happy for the experience. I love it.
This guy got ahead of me on the third incline. Not for very long, though, and I eventually left them behind for a new competitor who passed me on the left with very large thighs (actually, everything I could see was pretty muscular) and a fancy many-geared bicycle (for clarification, my bike has one gear). Turns out he had some really quick sprints and was then very slow up the remaining hill--I don't think he was very good at utilizing his energy. Of course, he may not have known we were racing and if he had known, then he may have decided to bike differently. Whatever, it's my fantasy. On that last stretch before my exodus from Central Park, I got ahead and stayed ahead (defeating him!) dismounting when I reached the pedestrian thoroughfare leading to Columbus Circle. Where they were holding a "Wii Fit!" demonstration. I was kind of late to work so I didn't stay to see what the hell these shiny people in white jogging-suits were up to playing games (and gettin' healthy!) on 59th St.
The rest of my ride in to work was quite pleasant and easy. My bike didn't throw it's chain once! Contrast that with the ride home, in which my chain was thrown four times in twenty short-blocks (gotta get that fixed somehow). Then, when I reached the northern portion of Central Park and the road exiting to Lennox Ave, I squeezed my front (one and only) brake and it very abruptly popped off of my bicycle frame to dangle haphazardly from my handlebars. It was a good thing that there was only one car around and it was ahead of me. I was already standing on the pedals, so I swung my right leg around the seat and wedged my foot between the frame and the tire as I steered myself to the sidewalk and grass away from the asphalt and cars.
Somehow, somewhere, I lost the bolt attaching the braking mechanism to the frame.
I sat down for a bit and enjoyed the pre-storm daylight as it began its decent into evening. Marie called and bragged a bit about how she was going to beat me home. I sulked. Just kidding. Then I picked up my bike and rolled it to the one hundred-tenth street stop on the two/three lines, shoved myself into a rush-hour traffic train car and made my way home. I've decided to just take the damn bike to a bikeshop, tell them I want brakes and then tell 'em to fix the bike so it doesn't throw the damn chain so easily! Dammit. Good riding, that was.
Fascinating? Yes. To me.
I've also noticed that when I access that head-space (I can physically perceive a change in my head and body) and practice my photography gathering stock photos to draw from or just to have, the pictures I take then tend to be better than when I'm in a more social mood. I'm not really sure if that makes sense to anyone else but me. [I actually just shrugged.] Oh, well.
Yesterday, I had a wonderful bike-ride to work taking the west-side of Central Park's outer loop. The air was cool and fresh having just been cleansed by the rainstorm over the weekend; the pollen count was swirling into the sky since the rainstorm hydrated all of New York City's plants. Though My spring allergies were acting up--even through the screen of a generic Clariton--my ride was unencumbered and still very much enjoyable.
The loop was closed to car-traffic, opening-up the road to less crowded running, skating, walking, and cycling-traffic. There was a cycling pair which entered the park just after me who seemed to be training for a race or ride or something. They wore spandex and rode on carbon-frames with more than one gear to get them going. As we were climbing the hill, curving around a long bend in the road, one of them said, "Alright, I'll meet you at the bottom of the hill." I look to my right and see a very fit, older bicyclist downshift into a climbing gear and slowly, with steadily increasing pace, overtake me and then the hill. I could hear his riding partner pedaling behind me and so I decided I didn't want him to pass me, too, and pushed harder until I was catching my breath on the other side of the climb having kept him behind me.
It became a game to try to keep the slower guy--whom I perceived for the sake of this ride to be a less experienced rider than myself, whether he is or is not--behind me as we hit the next hill and the next. I love competition. I love competing with myself. I love competing with people even though they don't know I'm competing with them. I love competing with people who DO know I'm competing with them. I love being challenged and if it turns out that my skill/etc wasn't enough to top theirs/its, then I'm still happy for the experience. I love it.
This guy got ahead of me on the third incline. Not for very long, though, and I eventually left them behind for a new competitor who passed me on the left with very large thighs (actually, everything I could see was pretty muscular) and a fancy many-geared bicycle (for clarification, my bike has one gear). Turns out he had some really quick sprints and was then very slow up the remaining hill--I don't think he was very good at utilizing his energy. Of course, he may not have known we were racing and if he had known, then he may have decided to bike differently. Whatever, it's my fantasy. On that last stretch before my exodus from Central Park, I got ahead and stayed ahead (defeating him!) dismounting when I reached the pedestrian thoroughfare leading to Columbus Circle. Where they were holding a "Wii Fit!" demonstration. I was kind of late to work so I didn't stay to see what the hell these shiny people in white jogging-suits were up to playing games (and gettin' healthy!) on 59th St.
The rest of my ride in to work was quite pleasant and easy. My bike didn't throw it's chain once! Contrast that with the ride home, in which my chain was thrown four times in twenty short-blocks (gotta get that fixed somehow). Then, when I reached the northern portion of Central Park and the road exiting to Lennox Ave, I squeezed my front (one and only) brake and it very abruptly popped off of my bicycle frame to dangle haphazardly from my handlebars. It was a good thing that there was only one car around and it was ahead of me. I was already standing on the pedals, so I swung my right leg around the seat and wedged my foot between the frame and the tire as I steered myself to the sidewalk and grass away from the asphalt and cars.
Somehow, somewhere, I lost the bolt attaching the braking mechanism to the frame.
I sat down for a bit and enjoyed the pre-storm daylight as it began its decent into evening. Marie called and bragged a bit about how she was going to beat me home. I sulked. Just kidding. Then I picked up my bike and rolled it to the one hundred-tenth street stop on the two/three lines, shoved myself into a rush-hour traffic train car and made my way home. I've decided to just take the damn bike to a bikeshop, tell them I want brakes and then tell 'em to fix the bike so it doesn't throw the damn chain so easily! Dammit. Good riding, that was.
Labels: Biking The Crazy Train, Blog365, Is This Why I Became an Artist?, New York City
posted by Rick(y) at 11:02 PM
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