Bike Photo Shoot Adventure

 I'm a member of Bike Cleveland,a local cycling advocacy group. I got an email invite to this:

As many of you are aware, last year Cleveland City Council adopted a law which requires motorists to grant bicyclists a 3’ wide clear zone when passing. As with many policy changes, however, the public knows little or nothing about this new law. In an effort to get this information out to the general public, Bike Cleveland is working with the advertising firm of Dix & Eaton to develop a major public messaging campaign. This campaign is intended to educate motorists and bicyclists alike about the need to safely share the road and will employee billboards, bus shelters, OMNI media ad placements and social media to do so. 

A related effort being led by the YMCA’s Clevelanders in Motion Health Equity Initiative is a six-month, full bus wrap ad campaign also with the share the road messaging.

The bus wrap campaign will integrate elements of Dix & Eaton’s work layered over photographs of bicyclists riding together and covering the entire bus: two sides, the front and the back. Bicyclist and professional photographer (Frank Lanza) will photograph the riders who will be displayed on the bus both independently and as a group.  These photos will then be enlarged to super-size which covers the entire bus. 

In preparing for this shoot, we are looking to assemble a group of riders as diverse as our city and region itself. We have been very intentional in trying to ensure balance in terms of gender, age, racial and ethnic background as well as type of cyclist (racing, commuter, recreational) and type of ride.

Here's a concept of the bus wrap:

 

I thought, hey, my weekend isn't already busy enough, it would be cool to see my bike-riding self on the side of a bus this summer. As a 48-year-old commuter who will never dress like a Lycra-clad superhero, I can be part of the diversity. 

We've had 2 weeks of gorgeous weather, sunny and in the 70's. At 6:30 this morning, it was colder than it has been in a month--40 degrees--and lightly drizzling. Usually, this wimp would pass on riding in such conditions, but I donned 2 layers of long underwear under my long-sleeved bright yellow bike jersey and headed off. Temperature-wise, I felt suprisingly comfortable. Could have done without the water droplets spattering my glasses, but I could still see okay. Fortunately, all of the sane people were still asleep so there wasn't much traffic.

The adventure began when I was about 0.3 miles from my destination. 6:57 a.m., and the event started at 7.  The turn to get down to the Flats (industrial district under the bridges along the river) looked like it went about 100 yards to a dead end. Google maps has been known to send people on roads to nowhere. So I rode another half mile and found another road that went downhill to the flats. But when I got there, I had no idea how to get to the location. I called the cell of the organizer, got directions, and in order to avoid another dead end, promptly got totally disoriented. Next thing I knew, I was coming up a steep hill (leaving the Flats) and ended up in the hipster Tremont neighborhood. Another call, another missed turn. Now I was in Ohio City at the West Side Market. Asking directions of passersby. None helped. Maybe it was just me, but I couldn't find a single street that went back to the Flats. Plenty of them would get me near the location--only unfortunately, about 100 feet above it via a bridge.

I was really frustrated now and more than half an hour late. Took one of the bridges and ended up where I started at the first dead end where Google had taken me. On my third and final call, a guy from the photo shoot talked me through how to get there. It turns out at the dead end, there are about 7 stories of steps you can walk down to get to the Flats, a helpful detail Google had neglected to include. He asked if I was able to carry my bike. That's one thing I can do! So there I was, getting my strength workout in for the day. My bike's heavy (a hybrid, it's built for comfort, not for speed), but I had no problem. Though carrying it up 7 flights of stairs would have been a different story.

Even 40 minutes late, I got there just in time to take my individual turn riding by the camera. Then we had 45 minutes of group shots, pretending to ride with one foot up on the pedal while the photographer took shots from the side, front, and back with the city skyline in the background. After some final shots of the group in motion, we were done. 

I ended up weaving my way through multiple levels of a parking garage trying to get back to downtown, but got home within half an hour. The adrenaline of being lost and late gave me extra energy to push it this morning, steep hills or no. I managed to burn almost 700 calories for what turned out to be a 16-mile round trip, and achieved a personal best of the highest heart rate ever--188! Wouldn't want to make a habit of that, but it feels amazing that I'm even capable of pushing it that high. Nine months ago, I could never have imagined having a morning like this and not feeling the need to crash the rest of the day. I'm not even really tired after all that--just hungry. Good thing, because we're about to leave for a ballroom dance lesson!

Here we go again...

Ugh. I'm finally facing the fact that I've regained 25 pounds in the past 3 years. It started when my accounting classes got really hard, and the candy consumption crept up ever so slowly as I slaved away in front of the computer. Even after I graduated in the spring of 2011, I felt like I deserved a break from being so anal-retentive about tracking my food. Before I knew it, I was in I-don't-give-a-sh*t mode full time.

I finally picked a primary care physician and got my first annual physical in over 10 years this summer. Which meant I was face-to-face with that number on the scale after not weighing myself for years. I just didn't want to know, and for good reason. 166! Ugh. And I have back rolls. Double ugh. But (worse) my total cholesterol level is 205 (should be below 200) and triglycerides are at 177 (should be below 150). I knew it was just a matter of time before my excessive consumption of sweets would start showing up in the blood tests. I can only imagine how much worse it would have been if I didn't exercise.

I know what I need to do. I've done it before--twice--and successfully. Once our August Staycation was over, this past Saturday, I said to myself, that's it. I've declared my intention to clean up my eating on Facebook (30 likes and counting), so now if I fall off the wagon, it will be in front of a virtual audience of 500 or so. Today (my fifth day) I downloaded the free MyFitnessPal app, entered my first weigh-in (165.0, better already!), and started tracking my food. Yes, it's tedious. But tracking is the only way that gets results.

Here's a "before" picture from last week.

I do already feel much better physically, and Paul is supportive, which really helps!

Why Music Matters

We had our first performance of Brundibár at 10:00 this morning. I was rehearsal pianist for the two casts of singers in their tweens and young teens over the past three months, and was very excited to play the piano part with the CityMusic Cleveland musicians. We are playing four matinees for school kids and five evening performances for the general public.

This morning's performance was reserved for the students at John Hay High School. And I mean the entire school. Several hundred teenagers filled the auditorium, talking, laughing, texting, playing with their iPods, etc. I could tell they were happy to get out of class for an hour. But I couldn't help wondering if their teachers had given them any of the background context for the opera. Would they get it? Would it engage them and draw them in? Would they even like it?

The cast and most of the orchestra pre-set ourselves at the back of the auditorium before the concert began. The idea was that we would process up to the stage after the first piece, seamlessly and without the distraction of the doors in the back letting in light from outside. The concert started with Max Bruch's Kol Nidre for cello and piano, played beautifully. Unfortunately for those of us in the back, there was a constant stream of kids entering and exiting the back of the auditorium as the security guard cluelessly let them in during the piece, light flooding in, letting the doors slam as they closed. Kids being kids, there was a lot of whispering, giggling, and shushing from the peanut gallery. There were slides projected onto a large screen during the performance, but apparently that wasn't enough to focus them. They clapped when they thought the piece was over, about a minute too soon. I know that most of them have rarely or never attended a classical concert, so they don't know the protocol as well as they might.

The sound of a train whistle filled the room. Huge, menacing-looking images of a black steam engine filled the screen. Spotlights illuminated the aisles. I got to lead a line. We were to walk--slowly--while a very few musicians played the 90-second overture. It's hard to walk slowly but fast enough so that everyone behind you can get to their place on stage before the overture is over.

Maybe it's because I was on stage, behind all of the other musicians, but I didn't hear any noise from the audience except when they laughed or clapped at the action on stage. At the very, very end, something special happened. Ela Weissburger, who played the Cat in all 55 of the original performances in Thereisenstadt, came up to the stage and talked to the kids for about 15 minutes about how this music helped her survive the horrors of living in a concentration camp. It gave everyone involved an escape from the cold, the hunger, the terror of being sent away to a place no one ever came back from. It gave them hope, a feeling of connectedness, and a hold on their sanity.

She is in her early 80s. Her voice isn't the loudest and she didn't have a microphone. But that room was absolutely silent. They got it.

Ten Years and Two Days Later

One spring day in 2002, Paul & I met up at The Diner on Clifton (in Lakewood) to introduce each other to our friends for the first time. We had been an item for all of three weeks. I had my camera with me just in case. It was a very fun evening, and our friends enjoyed meeting each other. One of his friends, Lisa, asked him how many months he'd been hiding me. "Umm..point-seven-five?" I said. She then proceeded, purely by accident, to take what is one of the best pictures of the two of us ever taken. Never mind that Paul had just taught two Aikido classes, I had had a long day (it was about 10:30 at night by then), and we both were exhausted. We looked radiant.

Then: April 8, 2002

Fast forward 10 years. We thought it would be fun to revisit the Diner tonight. We haven't been there for years. I don't know why--it's less than a half-hour drive away. We still have the clothes we wore that night (well, the tops anyway). We got there, took a corner booth, and asked our server if she would do us the favor of taking our picture. She was all too happy to. I dug through my backpack, only to realize that I had forgotten the camera at home. I was so disappointed!

She was so nice. She volunteered to take the picture on her phone and email it to me. Thank you, Mandy Drahos--you get our Outstanding Employee Award.

Now: April 10, 2012

This has been the best decade of my life so far.

Voiceless

Since I so rarely get sick, I'm not very good at it. I usually get two colds a year. My fall cold didn't seem too bad at first. My usual symptoms (sore throat, plugged-up ears, low fever, constantly hacking my brains out) were blessedly absent. I had a husky voice for a couple of days. It was kind of fun in a way sounding like I'd been out partying all night.

Last Saturday evening, Paul & I went to an Oberlin Alumni Potluck in Cleveland Heights. This was the second one I've been to, and I always enjoy the conversations with articulate, like-minded people. We had met a few of the people last time, including our hosts, who happened to live in the house next door to the house I had shared with 3 roommates over 20 years ago.

We met one 50-something woman in a beautiful bohemian-looking blouse who used to work at Delphic Books in Coventry. She introduced us to her companion, a man of about the same age. He was very pleasant, so when we got plates of food, we sat near him.

Well, he just started venting about illegal immigrants, lazy welfare moochers, etc. Now keep in mind that by now I had only about half my voice left, and the room was very loud. I really had to think about whatever I said, since I had to save my voice and I couldn't project. I could see his point of view, but it was really off-putting how sneering and contemptuous he was of other human beings. I made non-committal comments, but he wasn't interested in hearing my point of view.

It was weird that by his age, he hadn't yet learned that it's not the best idea to vent about politics with people you don't know--what made him think I agreed with him? Couldn't he see by my body language that I was trying to disengage from the conversation? He was absolutely clueless. Then he started dissing Ohio as a place to live. I said, "Well, I'm happy here and I chose to live here." You'd think he would get a hint.

When I mentioned an article I had read in the New York Times to support my thesis that if we got rid of illegal immigrants, Americans don't want to/don't have the physical stamina to work those migrant farm worker jobs he started dissing my NYT. That was it. I said, " I don't agree with you, and I'm ending this conversation," got up, and went to the other room.

I don't like to think of myself as someone who refuses to talk about politics with someone I don't agree with. I think it was his tone that got me. And his assumption that I would be on his side. Really, dude? At an Oberlin function in Cleveland Heights? I really wonder what Ms. Delphic Books sees in him.

I proceeded to talk for three more hours (with other people), which was a blast, but by the end of the evening, my voice was gone and I've been totally mute ever since. It gets me thinking about people who really don't have a voice. Maybe next time, I will take the risk to speak up when someone is speaking contemptuously of others. And I should be more mindful before opening my mouth, because sometimes I do the same thing.