Last weekend's big ride was in memory of an incredible physician and human being. He had an inspiring professional career spanning many decades, dedicated to advancing science and educating residents and fellows, as well as an enviable work-life balance. He loved to be outdoors, and he will be missed. Rest in peace, Dr. P.
I rode around Strawberry, around Tiburon, and up to China Camp State Park. One of the weirder portions of China Camp State Park is shown here.
I'm now two weeks in to my last year of residency. Some of you may have noticed that a few weeks back a countdown labeled "The End of Residency" appeared in the sidebar with a terrible font and clunky free interface. It is ugly, but it is the truth; there are now fewer than 365 days left in residency!
This transition marked the departure of another dear group of colleagues and friends, all headed to jobs and fellowships that sound amazing. I'm sad to see them heading out, but happy for their much-anticipated transitions and inspired by their soft landings into the careers they've been planning for years now.
I don't really have anything eloquent to say about this, other than what I've been saying about everything in residency to date - it will be, and then it will be over. Hard to imagine, but here we go. Hold on to your hats for one last year of this wild ride.
Claudia and I prepare to emcee the banquet for the graduating residents
It's done. I've officially registered for two century rides, two weeks apart, for two great causes. I first mentioned them here, and as of today am registered for both. There are two things I'm absolutely depending on for these rides:
1. Patience: I am slow. There are not a lot of things in my life where I am content to admit that I'm slower than almost everyone else and am satisfied there, but cycling is one of them. I'll train as much as I can train, but there are certain immutable facts (namely residency) that slow me down. Luckily, I'm pretty happy riding all day all alone, so even if the friends, family, and colleagues who will be joining me on these rides are much faster, I don't mind bringing up the back.
2. Your money: You read correctly. I've made some rather lofty fundraising goals in order to feel good riding in both of these rides. Compared to my ride last year (40 miles), I'm increasing my mileage this year by 500%. Can you do the same with your donations? If that percent increase seems a bit steep to you, perhaps consider a 100% increase since I'm doubling my number of rides. Here are the links to my fundraising pages:
Last weekend I rode 54 miles (all at one time!) on what was the longest bike ride my new bike has ever experienced. Apart from grossly underestimating the amount of water I needed, and forgetting to sunscreen my legs, both of which only became apparent after 95% of the ride, it was lovely.
In which I demonstrate that even in the daylight I favor cycling safety
China Camp State Park, or, the very lovely surroundings of the public restrooms around which I planned much of my ride
In Michigan, looking cool on a bicycle meant several things. First and foremost, it meant sporting a variety of cycling clothes (jerseys, shorts, socks, etc) from the various events you had previously completed. Started riding DALMAC (the Dick Allen Lansing to MACkinaw) in 1971 when it originated? Then wear that vintage jersey from the first year they made them to show just how awesome and dedicated you are. Secondly, although there were probably small subgroups of cyclists that favored the matching kit, where the jersey and the shorts are made to match, the vast majority favored mixing it up, perhaps to demonstrate the wide range of interesting pieces of cycling gear available to the enthusiastic rider. My rides would leave me asking questions along the line of, "Huh, I wonder where I can get those bright crazy shorts that guy had, so that I can wear them with my florescent pink jersey with the little devil on it from the ride through Hell, MI?"
In San Francisco, and I suspect in most of California, the approach is completely different. Fitting in and looking like you mean it on a bicycle requires a matching kit. You may select a pattern or color, and if you are part of a professional or amateur cycling team, it is acceptable to wear that jersey, but otherwise black is the preferred color. All of the fancy cycling clubs seem to produce all-black cycling gear, perhaps with accents that attempt to prevent accidents and make you more visible. While my training rides here have also prompted question asking, they have been more along the lines of "Why would you market a line of black, solid colored cycling garments in a city with so much fog?"
While I'd like to avoid high inference statements about cycling clothes that demonstrate that you have money rather than cycling clothes that demonstrate that you have fun, this difference seems stark. Am I missing something? Is there another obvious reason to eschew mismatched cycling gear in favor of the all-black kit? Help me out, dear readers. Perhaps needless to say, I continue to pair pieces of my maize and blue University of Michigan kit with other random bits, like the bright pink jersey I mentioned earlier, and my Menstrual Cycles team jersey, all with the primary goal of making myself as noticeable as possible to cars on the road, and the secondary goal of wearing clean things while riding. Look for me on the roads in an awesome kit comprised of colors and patterns that were never meant to be!
It's somehow suddenly very late on Sunday, so here are some updates on the posts from the past few weeks.
The baby barrage: The neonates have started to arrive, and my list of knitting to-dos grows. They are all so cute, and so far have come with only the expected amount of drama. The combinations and permutations of yarns and patterns is increasingly overwhelming...
The cycling craziness: Last week was a cycling failure. Abject failure. I'm back in the saddle as of this morning, and aiming to increase my mileage pretty significantly this week. I'm planning to register for both rides shortly, and you all can anticipate desperate fundraising pleas to come!
The pet prancing: It continues. Need I say more? This week's feature is Aleks, who is shown below snuggled into his cave bed, nuzzling the squirt gun that has quickly morphed from a disciplinary tool to a game, and with his head stuck in a bag of caramel corn.
When one of my best friends and college roommate told me she was pregnant, I was super excited for her. When she told me how far along she was, I realized that her due date would line up with approximately five other friends who were expecting babies this year. All of them were due in the springtime or early summer of May and June. Shortly after I shared this, there was a thoughtful pause in our conversation. "We're like farm animals" she said, "all having babies at the same time."
And here we are in early May, with all of my friends either at term or nearly so, and my list of things to knit keeps growing. You see, when I first started knitting things for babies I made tiny things: socks, hats, booties, etc. As the years went on I got faster and faster and more interested in knitting challenging things and creative things. This generally meant sweaters instead of hats and booties and when I was in graduate school this wasn't a big deal. The babies were fairly spaced out then (except for one year when there were ten) and I had lots of lecture time in which to occupy my hands. Fast-forward to residency, a time during which I have knit the lowest volume of items since learning the craft, and I'm struggling. The only saving grace is that everyone loves a six-month-size sweater even more than the newborn one.