Happy Mother's Day

I'll admit:  I wasn't always the best kid in the world.  I certainly wasn't the most obedient.  (Confession:  I still take some pride in that!)  Then again, as a rabbi pointed out to me, "The Fifth Commandment says, 'Honor thy mother and father.'  It doesn't say 'obey'."

Of course, that rabbi wasn't saying that I, or anyone else, should be a defiant child.  But he emphasized honor.  And, well, I can say I've tried to do that.  Really, I have.

The thing is, my mother knows that.  She knows now that even when I've done things she wished I hadn't, I wasn't trying to hurt or dishonor, let alone disrespect, her.  She knows there are some things I could only but do.  And she has supported me in what I needed to do.

Does she realize that I see cycling as one of those things I need to do?  Possibly:  She has encouraged me to do it, whether or not I needed encouraging. (She has never been a cyclist herself.) And, in the other things in which I needed encouragement--especially the biggest change I ever made--she has stood with me when others wouldn't.

My mother doesn't do computers, and probably never will.  However, my father might be reading this.  If he is, he will probably show it to her.  So, Mom:  Happy Mother's Day. And thank you.

(Both images are from Eleanor's NYC.)

She Didn't Need A Miracle. Neither Did I.

I've been to Lourdes.

No, I wasn't looking for a miracle cure--not even for the conflicts that raged within me.  In fact, I never planned to go there:  I just happened to pass through.

Back in 2000, I took a ride from France into Spain and back, through the Pyrenees.  Yes, I pedaled up Tourmalet, Hautaucam, Aspin, Portillon and Peyresourde, all of which have been part of the Tour de France at one time or another.  But I also pedaled through some cities and towns full of history and culture, including Toulouse (where I started) and Foix.  And, of course, Lourdes.

Now, I didn't think that a visit to the shrine would do anything that a good masseuse couldn't.  Still, I figured it would be interesting to stop there.  Even with all of the hawkers selling the tackiest souvenirs imaginable, it's lovely and charming--and offers some rather stunning vistas of the mountains and river valleys, not to mention great cycling.

The latter is known to many, including Rachel Atherton.  However, the ride she did is, let's say, just a little different from what I did:

 

Sometimes A Longer Crank Arm Is Only A Longer Crank Arm...

Time spent with cats is never wasted.

Truer words were never uttered.  (All right, very few truer words were ever uttered.)  Who said them?

The same person who said,

Everywhere I go,  I find that a poet has been there before me.

Hey, I can get with that, too.  Or:

Dreams are most profound when they are the most crazy.

Such a pronouncement is ironic, coming from a man who hated radios and telephones--he would use the latter, but only when absolutely necessary--because of the noise they made.  He even hated music!  He also hated motorcycles, which came out in the middle of his life, for the same reason.

He also hated bicycles, which no one--not even his closest family members and associates--could explain.  He never explained it himself.  However, I think it may have had something to do with his being a control freak, a label attached to him by everybody who knew him.  Or it may have been about his relationship with his son, who was an avid cyclist.

Ahh, father-son conflicts.  Did I hear "Oedipal"?  All right...now, perhaps, you have a clue to whom I'm referring.

Yes, I am talking about none other than Sigmund Freud-- who, if he were alive, would be 160 years old today.

What would he make of the fact that so many cyclists, particularly males, are riding longer cranks these days?  What would he have to say about wheels, and what our choices about spoke patterns--or discs--say about us?

About his hatreds:  Here's one that, perhaps, overshadows the others:

Yes, America is gigantic, but a gigantic mistake.

What would he make of the current Presidential race?