Life Intensions-Mountain Bike Boot Camp, 2 days 80 miles, 8.5 hours,Pinhoti, Bear Creek. North Georgia

It is funny how a simple thing like a bicycle can teach me so much about life. My bicycle experiences remind me of life stories and sometimes I never realize it until I am on my bicycle. I take the time to stop….stop all that mindless thinking, planning, worrying and DOING… that consumes most. Hours peddling and spinning life out on the pavement, flying around trees; leaves only a blank mind canvas to begin the composition of my life music, I draft in my mind a melody that will harmonize all these awkward notes that get thrown at me.

Lately, I started to think about intensions; what this word means to me, how the word is used so loosely, how intensions as a concept has been defined in my past, and why I have just began to realize how important our life intensions are.

Intension… an action with a specific purpose in doing something- a end or goal is aimed at, or intended to be accomplish.

I intend to do a lot on my bicyle. Like this past week, I intended to do a mountain bike boot camp, ride single track with my friend Mark, scour the trails of Fort Mountain in Northern Georgia.

So happy to see me dear friend and have the opportunity to laugh, snort, snot, cuss, and partake in other non-lady like behaviors… all in two days as I rode with a handful of men that came to hurt and feel what endurance training was all about.

An expectation was formed in my mind. I had visions of smooth single track winding up and down the blue ridge mountains, crossing reeks, spooking deer- blazing downhill and riding around trees.

This is what drove me to make the 5 hour drive and mentally prepaire for over 80 miles of mountain bike riding in two days. I soon found that I needed to shift my expectations and alter my intension of mountain bike riding on single track. Yes I was on a mountain bike, like I intended, but found myelf riding more on pavement, gravel roads, and even grass-not what I expected.

Attitude shift, Is what had to happen or I was going to have a miserable time. My focus shifted from what I was missing to what I had-what I was doing. I had Mark- right there besides me, the first man in a long time that is truly my friend.

I met Van, Mark's friend that an amazing man that I have a feeling will also beome a good friend.

I was able to hear the inspiring story of Mike, the ex-pro BMX racer, firefighter, owner of http://www.cartecaybikes.com/rides/trails.htm Cartecay Bike Shop, president of the local club, care taker of miles and miles of trails, bicycle frame designer, and one of the biggest bicycle advocates I have met in a long time. He put this event on for free, he made no money, he did it becuase he loves his bicycle and what this love brings-good friends-and good times.

And I cannot forget....

I had the opportunity to play in a fire truck...thanks to Mike's connections.

I was able to look up at the beautiful mountain streams as I rode gravel roads-not really possible all the time when you are on single track. I had the opportunity to be a guest at a beautiful mountain haven for mountain bikers with the best home cookin food (the best berry cobler ever}. Most Importantly, all this remineded me that in real life, off the bicycle, intensions and expectations come the same way.

We intend alot in life. Some intend more than others. Some float through life and others intend to live it -to its fullest. What matters if we try to take the chance to even intend- to intend a life boot camp. If we have to-be open to changing expecations, and not expecting “too” much of our selves and others. If we can only grasp the idea that even with having to change or alter our expectaions, we can still meet our intensions. This has been the biggest life lesson that I have learned and I hope my bicyle continues to remind me..when I forget it again.

Amore,

Katelyn

Life’s little hiccups Tour De Nantahala, North Carolina 45 miles 3.5 hours

I see a familiar sparkle in her eyes, brown beautiful eyes that smile as she looks at Romeo. Ahh Romeo, not an Italian lover, but an American man made machine of carbon fiber. It grows every time I see her, the passion, the excitement of possibilities where her bicycle can and will take her.

Debbie Sue, my fellow Ohio beauty queen, has her rag top down and ready for life, a new life and I feel honored she has invited me this day to join her on her first bike ride over 25 miles. We go to scale the beautiful mountains, North Carolina heaven.

The land of the Cherokee Indians, land of the mid-day rising sun, screams color this day. So bright; red, orange, yellow takes my breath away. Colors bleed together as we fly down the mountainside.

My Arms ache as I try to grip the handlebars with frozen hands because of the 34F degree morning and lack of the gorge-hidden sun. I forgot my pants and socks, wear arm warmers and a light windbreaker over my short sleeve jersey. I feel bad..really bad as I look over at Debbie Sue and she is trying to smile as her body shivers and maybe appears to convulse at times. A lean petite woman that has a far greater less percent of body fat then I do, needs more clothes then what she has on when it is 90% humidity, 34degrees, with no sun shine. She had exactly on what I told her to wear….. Calling me for my advise for what she should buy and wear for this ride….her first big ride on a bicycle-ever.

I am ashamed to tell you that all my 6 years education in exercise physiology, body temperature regulation, studies on hydration, years of cycling all over the world in all temperatures; did not aid in my decision to tell her that arm and leg warmers with gloves, and a thin hat with my medium weight vest would be just fine.

A hiccup

I remember looking down at my bicycle as I unpacked it in Ruben’s living room. I almost cried. My beautiful bike..the paint… blue….gone…missing…scratches…carbon fiber. Come to find the scratches extended well beyond that paint and made it into the carbon fiber, wreaking my machine, and basically becoming a death trap on wheels. A hiccup, my decision to pack my bicycle without the normal 3 inch foam surrounding the chain-ring facing away from the frame. I remember the very instant, recall telling myself saying it will be ok like this….. It was not and this is why for 6 weeks I have been a girl without her road bike and forced to replace a $1400 carbon frame with a stronger frame made of titanium.

A hiccup

Hiccups, this is what I call bad decisions- or just bad things all together. Hiccups, we all get em, have em. They come at the wrong time. Sometimes they hurt, hurt so bad that they make our stomach in knots and at times bring a little throw-up to our mouths. Sometimes they are a little unpleasant but still make us giggle. At times they only happen a few times in a row or can last for the feeling of eternity.

I think of this as I realize that we as humans give our selves a hard time about life’s hiccups. We expect other not to hiccup or not hiccup as much as ourselves. We do not forgive others and we do not forgive our self for what just happens naturally…

Hiccups are part of life, part of being human, part of have a digestive system. Without them we would not be human….

I just hope that my hiccups, like I hope all your hiccups, come less often, make me giggle, and allow meto be reminded, just how valuable and precious life is….

Amor,
Katelyn

Our Nations Capital. Rockville Maryland to and around Washington DC to Odenton Maryland 45 miles, too long to notice

I never thought I would actually hear anyone say this to me. “I would not ride your bike there..unless you want to get shot!” He actually said this, not laughing, or jokingly; but seriously.

Now usually, when someone tells me to not “go somewhere” on my bicycle it is because they think it is not interesting, too much traffic or too far in the country; not because I could actually be shot.

This day, as I pick up a rental road bike from a local shop in Maryland, a suburb of Washington DC; I decide to listen to the advise that was given from the young man that worked at the shop. My plans changed…now to formulate a new plan.

How was I going to ride to Washington DC, see the city, then to the nature preserve located North East of DC? Hmmm…Green way was the obvious answer.

Impressive actually, the city has greenways or bike paths linked from Maryland and Virginia to the City. Once arriving, the city has greenways along the Potomac,

passing our Nations monuments.

Within 5 minutes I decided that I do not like these bike paths of Washington and surrounding suburbs.

Everything with wheels and everybody was on the bike path. Kids with roller blades, moms pushing strollers, owners being dragged by their dogs, toddlers running out of control, tri cycles, big wheels, cruisers, mountain bikes, and road bikes. Like the city, this place was crowded.

Usually, when I ride my bike, a peace comes over me. It is hard to explain…. I feel control as I can push the pedals accelerating to speeds that would make most tense and ride their breaks. Forty-50 miles per hour at times, if I have gravity on my side; I still feel no hint of intimidation. I get lost in how my body feels as I cut through the air. How the breeze feels on my skin. If brisk air, I welcome goose bumps as the feeling is intensified as the hair on my arms and legs stand straight up. I can feel every bump and turn underneath my 20-pound machine that consists of some of the best materials available for cycling. I get lost in the moment, but then find my mind wandering to the future.

Today, none of this was possible-no feeling of controll. The only thing possible was to remain “on guard” at all times. This instinct, was followed by my bodies natural release of endorphins. I needed to react today. I was right to be prepared, as all of a sudden I was reacting to a cyclist coming straight towards me, she was blindly swerving around a group of walkers, and slammed right into me as I rode on the far right edge of the cycling path. I reacted correctly as I kept my line, placed my front tire right besides hers, kept my shoulders square, and fell over to the right on nice fluffy bushes that broke my fall. An obvious novice, with her brand new Treck T-mobile pink bike with matching helmet, glasses and shoes; she was maybe one hundred pounds. I actually felt sorry for her knowing that she just slammed into me; a woman that almost has 50 pounds on her, was taught combat cycling while training at the Olympic training center, was trained to tackle other women while playing rugby in college, and from practice has mastered the technique for slamming into trees and falling off her bicycle on pavement and down mountainsides alike. I instantly got up and kinda laughed and just looked at her laying on the ground. The first thing I thought, I said sarcastically was…. “Wow, I guess the road through the getto is safer then this”.

I did finally make it to the city, around the ghetto, at one point through the getto, through the nature reserve, and back on the metro as the night found me this day as I attempted and succeeded to see my Nation’s Capitol on a bicycle.

I must say, I do not have any part of me that would ever repeat this bicycle ride in the future, I will just stick to the country side.

Amore,Katelyn

Back to Normal .....

(Cumberland River, Tennessee)

Back to Normal? My friend, Michelle’s Husband Torry actually asked me this. We were standing at a live venue in Nashville, listening to my new favorite band the Avett Brothers. http://www.theavettbrothers.com/site.php Banjos and stand up bases being whaled on like a electric guitar, their body language was of a rock band not a progressive blue grass band. The crowd was a mix of Vandy plucked frat boys and southern new age hippies….a unique breed commonly characterized my scraggly hair and natural clothing, river sandals, the ability to make a good home brew, usually seen munching on gorp, and of course a thick southern accent that rings in your ears as they say “dude”.

I paused and kinda giggled. I actually have no idea what normal is anymore. I did not know what to say or know what to think… I just said I guess…well not really.

Normalcy, something I had too much of in my past life. Monday –Friday…Get up at 5:30am-sharp, work out-a bike ride if I was lucky, go to work for 9 hours and stare at a computer screen and try not to get too stressed out that I have to run and hide in the bathroom- if I was lucky, come home and make dinner- if my ex-husband was lucky, my evening excitement was looking forward to my favorite reality show-if it was my turn to pick the show, and well going to bed early so I could study-that always put me to sleep. Weekends were not much better. Saturday- clean the house, go to the grocery, do my homework, brush the cat, go the gym. Sunday…study, and wait around till my ex-husband woke up from working the swing shift as a police officer, then yes…..the highlight of my week was a bike ride, maybe a mountain bike ride if I was lucky, with my ex-husband. This was Normal, my normal and I was happy with it. Because I can be happy with anything.

This life that I lead now is not normal to me, but the longer I live in my new skin, see with my widened eyes; I begin to feel that I will get use to this new normal. Ever day is different, my office moves as I do, I ride in wonderful places with different people everyday, scale beautiful rock walls,

(Kings Gap in Tennessee)
eat dinner at trendy restaurants with friends, make 3 course Spanish meals for my family,

attend cultural festivals on weekends,

see live music during the week days, commute to yoga class on my bicycle 4 days a week, rummage at local flea markets,

have tea parties with my grandmother, get all dressed up to go see the new art exhibit at the museum, spend the afternoon taking a cat nap with my cat calvin, I take my dogs for walks, I plan road trips to see old friends, and plan with new friends adventures to explore foreign lands.

Yes I do get overwhelm. If you know me personally, you know I am a goal setter, and I tend to set too many goals that eventually consume me. I have learned allot about balance, something I struggle with every day. I actually follow a list, I drive to follow a life list of 5 things to do everyday to bring life balance to my new world. No matter if I am in Nashville, Spain, Washington, Atlanta, Italy or in my car driving to the next destination on a road trip; I plan my day with 5 things “to do” in order to bring normalcy, routine to my life. With this way of life, anxiety is minimal, I appreciate all that I have now, I have reached a happiness that I never knew was possible

With living my life this way I focus on the day, live in the now, but am still conscious of the future. Five simple things having to do with work/school, my family/friends, my spirit, what I put in my body and well.. my bike; all brings balance and a normalcy to this life that I lead….I will maybe share more about them with you in the future.

So ya... now that I think about it... back to Normal...... I guess I never actaully left it.

Amor,

katelyn

Little that I learned, a bicycle ride too..Tour de Wiskey, Isle of Islay 20 miles

When you travel on a budget, you spend time in hostels. Budget housing, a bunk bed in a room with dozens of other people, no towels or little soaps provided, sharing a toilet and shower with dozens of other men and women, but free internet, a lounge to get to know other travelers, and a kitchen to prepare food with people from all different countries makes up for disparities of hostel living. With this, you begin to see similarities or little quirks of people depending on the country they are from. I hate to generalize or be stereotypical, but tell you the truth you can almost tell where someone is from before they even say a word..just by little things.

I find it funny, the generalizations of Americans that have been shared with me by people I have met while traveling. Ruben even shared some with me; what he learned with his time spend in the train with travelers from all over the world. I was told you can spot Americans by their shorts. A kiwi (Australian) told be that American men wear those “God Awful” long cargo shorts with all those pockets. Ruben said he knows American girls by the short-shorts and big-big pack packs. I was told Americans can also be spotted by our perfect white teeth and out habit of chewing gum. You can spot an American at a club by the way they dance. Ruben says the girls move like snakes and talk really loud with a high pitch voice. So enough bout Americans I want to share what I have learned about Scotland; about the people and the land.. and yes I am guilty of all of these things that are “typical” American traits…

So the first thing about the Scottish is the “Scottish Face”. I do not know if it because of the cold or rainy weather, but a lot seem to have a certain facial expression. Squinty eyes, no smile, and look not very happy at all. Ruben and I have tried to replicate it, but I think he does a lot better job then I do.

Admittedly a Scottish women told me that Scottish do not smile and the women tend to be mengie (not attractive). Ruben said Scotland is the perfect place to go on holiday with your significant other, you do not have to worry much about them going off with anyone…I have to disagree about the minginess sterotype, because you know I have a high percentage of Scottish blood. heheheheh
I cannot forget the sheep. Yes the scottish love their sheep. They take great care that you do not run any of them over. They constantly remind you and I find this kinda funny...

Liz told me that a Scott’s life expectancy is in the low 60’s because of all the drinking and smoking. Wiskey..I guess keeps them warm from the cold and may help with overlooking the minginess of their date? I had the opportunity to see where this wiskey comes from. Ruben and I took a day on the Isle if Islay and did the Tour de Wiskey, however we only made it to one distillery because of the rain and cold. Ruben and I visited one of the most popular and left with 6 bottles that we carried in a backpack.and I visit the smallest in Scottland with only 3 employees.

Fascinating really, how the Barley is smoked,

fermineted into a beer, and then distilled in to wiskey.

Interestingly enough, at the Bilmore Distillery, the wiskey it is placed for years in bourbon barrels from Tennessee and Sherry barrels from Spain.

I must say my favorite thing about Scotland is the concrete. Ya funny I say this, but with out concrete roads, I would not be able to cycle and see all the beauty that the rain brings. The areas of Scotland that I have visited and cycled have single lane roads with passing pull offs. There seems to be minimal cars that travel on the roads, especially compared to the Italian and Spanish country roads that are frequented by speeding mini cars and motorcycles.

When you go to Scotland, be prepared and bring calamine lotion. For 3 days, Ruben thought he had fleas. After camping he ended up with hundreds of little bites, and I only had a few. The bites continued for days, we went through all the clothes and sleeping gear but no fleas were spotted. When asking Liz, she started to laugh because we had not found fleas, but the typical Scottish flying mini nat that has plagued this land for centuries, forces children to wear head nets when they play outside, and I was told actually drove the Romans out of the land when they tried to invade and almost made a moden day Spaniard go insane.

No not all of the Scottish talk like the Scottish guy from the Simpsons, but allot do.-especially in the north. So be prepared to listen really hard and say excuse me, can you repeat that. At one point I asked a bar tender at the bar if she spoke Spanish; I thought I would understand her more if If we talked in Spainsh.

And the young…where is the youth.. They are in the cities. I found it funny that I did not see one “children at play sign”, how we have in the states, but “beware the elderly”! I must say a frisky elderly couple..that is grandma appears to be if you use your imagination>>>>

love always, Katelyn

Search For Family, Dunoon, Scotland 24 miles

If you have read some of my previous BLOGS, I speak of my 104 year old great-grandmother that was born and raised in scotland.. I was raised hearing stories of her childhood, living in Dunoon Scotland, having a wealthy father that owned a shipping company that transported spices from India to Britian. During time spent in America, she met my great grandfather, a blue collar working man from Michigan, fell inl love and married in her 30's. She left all that she had in Scotland, for a new life. That herritage, still lies here in Scotland, but has become a distant reality to all of her children and children's children.. I have no knowlegde of relatives that hold her Shank or Muir name. I do not know where she went to school, have no idea where to find the house that she grew up in; the only thing I know is a town called Dunoon. We go here today. I giggle becuae I had another miscommunication with Ruben. I told him that we were going to the place of my family. Little did I know he actaully thought we were visiting family, as he asked what he should wear, thinking we were going to supper. He said he was hoping my family lived in a castle...as this became the joke for the days as we rode past amazing houses, even castles, and Ruben would point and yelled, "There is the house of your family, let's go". As we ride near Dunoon in the Agrile Forest, up and down the most amazing roads, face steep leg and lung burning hills, and pass Scotish farms; I reflect on a conversation about family that Ruben and I had. I asked Ruben about his heritage. I felt guilty becuase in the past he sent me a 30 page typed document (in Spanish) about his family's history and I have not been able to get through it all. Spainsh, from my limited interaction with the people, are family orientated. Family, the past, and present are who they are, of value, very important. I can say that americanas have lost a since of heritage. The melting pot has been mixed up for so many generations, that many have no idea of their past and truthfully many do not care to even know. Since hearing ruben's passion about his people and herritage of nothing but 100 percent spanish blood; I have become more interested is finding mine. So today we wonder around the village of dunoon, and stop at the visitors center. I ride, pass the old churches, town hall, village shops, and imagine my grandmother being here taking a walk as a child with her nanny or walking down the street as a young woman with her first love. That day I did not find anything really about my family, nevertheless I did find a since of where I came from...something I never knew I wanted.
Amore, Katelyn

Isle of Arran, 32 miles

I was a bit disappointed that my first scheduled Tour did not book. However, I am giving myself a big break because I cannot expect much with only advertising a little..little bit only starting two months ago. This is why I am here, in europe. I purchased my plane ticket so I could lead the first tour in Scotland, but with it not booking left me time to really explore the route in SW Scotland and scope out Tuscany again for next year. So all is good..... When I arrived to Brodick on the Isle of Arran, I already felt like I had been there.
I planned the tour with Liz, she had already told me so much about it. I have read books, surfed the net, and studied maps about this place so I could put it on the website and plan a detailed agenda...

Port Brodick is about a 45 minute ferry ride from the mainland. I must say this was an exciting point of the trip for Ruben and I. I do not think you get that many ferries in Tennessee or Spain; so the 70 pound fee to take 2 passengers and a car over and back, was worth it. Brodick, the metropolis of the Island is not really much at all. It is a small Village really, no movie theater, a few hotels, loads of bed and breakfasts, a grocery, and a row of bars and little shops. This place is absolutely beautiful with the sea side views and quaint little village. I have found that the best part of the villages of Scotland is all the bed and beaskfasts. Chain hotels, or hotels at all are non existent here. The way to do it here is to stay at a small farmhouse or little stone cottage on the beach with a family that welcomes you to their home.

You may luck upon a B&B that is not booked, but most of the time stopping by the visitors center to get assistance with booking, is the best way to go. This night we ended in a beautiful stone farm house, complete with garden and chickens.

Upon arrival we were greated by our house master, kelt and real knife stuck in his sock..

I only know this because he whipped it out--the knife that is.... A character if I can say that. Friendly and polite, yes all scottish are, but also talked your ear off-half of what I could not understand. I can tell you it took a hour to talk about breakfast. I knew everything you wanted to ever know about a scottish breakfast and what all the other guest were having and even at what time. Ruben would just look at me about every 5 minutes and mouth the words.."What is he talking about". Normally, Ruben says this because he cannot really understand the scottish english (most of the time I do not either) so he is roaming around this place how I do in Spain. So I just looked at him and said, I have no idea...I really did not. I just looked and smiled and nodded as I noticed this character with a Scottish style mulet also had a necked lady necklace wrapped around his neck next to his traditional decorative pins and chains. Besides the strange meeting, I can say the stay in this quaint b&b was what you think it should be, warm, full o charm and a since of history and family, complete with a scottish breakfast.

A scottish breakfast....... Fried Eggs, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, potatoes cakes, sausage, haggas, bacon, ham, and if you are lucky..beans. Ahhhh ya......I found myself dumping all my meat on Rubens plate, of wich 3/4 of the plate consists of. He would always shake his head no, but then would always eat it because he told me he was raised not to waste.

The first few days, I thought he was going to have problems....spanish do not eat this much meat in a week, nor consume over 500 calories before 2pm. Ruben was always wanting olive oil and not butter; butter, something not existent in a Spanard's diet. However, after the 3rd scottish breakfast, I think he was looking forward to it, because if he had a choice of anything else, he always wanted the scottish breakfast. A big breakfast is always good before a good ride. A perfect ride is what we got this day.

I choose the top half loop of the Isle of Arran. Only 32 miles winding along the coast and through the breathtaking island mountains adorned with sheep, but a hard ride fighting the strong sea head wind and climbing up at times for 30+ minutes on single paved roads only big enough for one car. And a few cars is what we saw as we rode. I began to be amazed how fast Ruben's fitness improved on a bicycle. Ruben was always there right besides me talking away or right behind me on my wheel working his flat peddles to the max...well until I stopped for a phone call and told him to go on...as I took a wrong turn..the only wrong turn on the island. Luckily I rode pass a cyclist that sent me in the correct direction toward the "scantily dresses lad".At this time I was about 4 miles ahead with all possible layers on to keep warm from the chilling head win. When I finally caught him, at the end of the ride, Ruben was smiling because he knew I was going to take a wrong turn. Something he picked up on after me being the co captain driving through Glascow.

At the end the day I am thankful that this will not be the last time I will be here... I will return, hopefully with a van full of customers.

Amore,

Katelyn