Thursday, September 25, 2008

Sleepless in Palo Alto

The mind is so busy. Darting from issue to issue like a hummingbird constantly feeding itself. Such busy-ness. Work. Cycling. Elul. High Holy Day preparations. Forgiveness.

I wonder why I have been writing so little of late. Sometimes that part of me goes dormant, and when I become aware of it I realize that an important part of my mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being is absent. Interesting that this is occurring during a period of intense physical focus. Perhaps there is an involuntary balancing of fields of energy that moves the flow from one domain to the other. I’m not really buying that, but it’s a thought.

Recently I have been pouring a great deal of intellectual and creative energy into solving issues at work. Consciously, intentionally, or not it seems I have taken on the mantel of driving the firm to meet our corporate commitment to develop a corps of 200 professionals who have achieved accreditation in the field of sustainability this year. Not that it is even in my control. Not that I can take all the credit for this accomplishment should it come to pass (and it looks pretty good that it will). Nonetheless, as sustainability learning leader, I am certainly focusing more of my attention on supporting this effort than anyone else. It is a rewarding task just for the reasons implicit in the preceding statement. Where I can directly support people pursuing the accreditation it is very satisfying. And where I learn of those who accomplish this distinction without my involvement--these discoveries are delightful too.

I am also getting to a point in the design of a new course on sustainable real estate operations where the pieces are finally pulling together in a coherent way. This is a phase in the design process that has moved me from a state of anguished searching to blissful arrival ever since I was in architecture school lo those many years ago. It’s a little like this pre-dawn hour. All is dark. I am alone with my thoughts and struggles. Sometimes I lose sight of the fact that the dawn will rise today as it has through the ages. And when it does--what a joy!

The bike thing has pieces of that. A lot of it is physical. I won’t list all the places where my body is in that state of anguished searching. But they are there. My sessions with my cycling coach are a real mixture of pain and pleasure, with the emphasis on the former. As I look down at my aching thighs propelling the pedals relentlessly, counting the minutes and seconds toward the completion of my exercise, I try to convince myself that I will reap the rewards when I pedal across the desert in just a few weeks. Tune in later for that chapter--I hope.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

If I Knew Then What I Know Now

Today I achieved the milestone of completing my first bike ride of fifty miles. As I neared the end of it I wondered, “If, when I signed up for the Israel Ride, I had known how grueling even fifty miles would be, would I have dared take on the goal of 300?”

Before I spend more time second-guessing myself, I should really give myself a break and acknowledge the accomplishment of getting through today's ride. At one stop along the way the thermometer read 99 degrees in the shade. Where I was riding, which typically was unshaded, and receiving another dose of heat radiating from the pavement, the temperature readout on my bicycle computer was 109.5 degrees. Any way you measure it, it was hot!

So this is an achievement. It closely resembles what I imagine to be the worst conditions we could face in the Negev in November.

While heat and hydration were issues today, they were not the greatest challenges. Frankly the most disturbing part of the ride can be reduced to simple physics. Too much time supporting too much weight on too tiny a perch--if you get my drift. This is an issue I have been attacking from several fronts lately. I have been trying different saddles, and different shorts--all designed to extend the time one may be expected to comfortably ride. Perhaps more important, although no one else has suggested this, is that I have lost a few pounds since I started working with an Olympic cycling coach last week. (Oh yeah, I finally decided that a novice cyclist who creates his own training program has a fool for a trainee.)

But let’s explore the original question. Would I have taken on this challenge if I had really understood the pain involved in meeting it? Like many hypothetical questions, we will really never know. As a general rule, however, I can reflect on other instances in my life that have had unforeseen obstacles. There were times where the challenges were overwhelming and others where they were overcome. That still doesn't answer the questions as to whether prior knowledge of them would have scuttled the mission before it was even launched.

We all have our own litany of adversities, many of mine, at least in regard to cycling, I have chronicled in these pages. I think of hill climbs or falling, just to mention two. Hill climbs will not be going away. They will never be stress and pain free. Additional falls, God-wiling will not occur, but the risk of them happening also will never disappear as long as I continue to ride.

It is understandable that today I--overheated, thirsty, left knee throbbing, ischial tuberosities aching--would ask myself if I'd be doing this if I really knew how much it would hurt. Sometimes it is better not to know what obstacles lie ahead. On the other hand, if I had the gift of perfect foresight it might well be comprehensive enough to provide a view of the eventual outcome. Then I would have some defined trade-offs to weigh against one another. In this case it would be the known pain in the butt versus the unknown but much anticipated thrill of the Israel Ride, and its potential educational, social, environmental, and spiritual benefits that I would evaluate. (Or maybe even the possibility that I will find the elusive comfortable saddle.)

Would I do it all over again? The answer will be revealed soon enough in my deeds, not my words when, as I suspect I will, I get back on the bike and ride off to the hills.