Honey

Preface: I commute from Northeast Portland to Wilsonville, every day to go to work. According to Google maps, I have a 22 mile commute. Although I rode my bike every day last summer, I eventually broke down and bought a car when the rain started. I rode one time to work during the winter and promptly came down with a cold.

Since it’s June, and every part of me wants the weather to be better, oh yes - and gas prices are soaring! - I’ve been riding my bike to work lately. Although I’ve ridden multiple times the last few weeks, somehow I have invariably been caught in a rainstorm every single ride, which could be worse if it were colder, so I’ll refrain from complaining.

Yesterday I rode downtown to catch the bus at the usual time. I did the smart thing and wore all my rain gear: rain pants, rain jacket, and booties over my shoes. I felt soaking wet anyway by the time I got to the stop and felt grateful I only had 15 minutes to wait. Unfortunately, the bus never came. 20 minutes after the bus was due (and 15 minutes before the next one was supposed to arrive), I gathered up all my commuting gear and headed over to my only other option, a slower bus that only takes me a third of the way to Wilsonville. Unbeknownst to me, it’s also one of the most crowded buses. There I was, soaking wet with all this crap I have to carry around cause I ride a bike, bumping into people and making them very uncomfortable.

Eventually, the bus arrived at Barber Transit Center and let me and my bike off. I checked the schedule and found, to my dismay, that I had missed my connecting bus by 4 minutes. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the next bus wasn’t coming for 35 minutes. I thought to myself “It can’t be that bad - it won’t take me that long”, and headed out on the long road to work.

Unfortunately, it was that bad and it did take me that long. I haven’t ridden much over the long winter months and I’m not quite as in shape as I used to be. I dragged the pedals around, sweating into a t-shirt I knew I wouldn’t change, panting up hills that don’t compare at all to what I could scale effortlessly in San Francisco. I was approaching the Tualatin Park and Ride (still 7 miles from work!) and realized I just wasn’t going to be able to make it all the way on my own.

I had just dismounted from my bike, ready (and willing) to spend at least a half an hour stuck waiting for the bus, when the bus I should have caught in the first place rolled up to the stop. Relieved, I climbed aboard, using my purchased transfer to go another 5 miles. I did have to ride the last couple of miles to work, but I was so thankful to finally be there that I barely noticed my own fatigue.

I don’t know why I enjoy this kind of torture. Riding my bike, my commute takes 90 minutes, each way, on a good day with no traffic. In a car, I arrive at work in under 30. I figure I use 2 gallons of gas total every day on my commute. This equates to about 8 bucks (right now). Taking the bus costs at least four dollars a day, sometimes five if I’m real lazy and I take a Wilsonville bus part way. So I’m saving between 3 and 4 dollars a day, a few times a week (10 bucks maybe?) to spend three hours in the rain, suffering horribly as I ride up and down the hills. And that’s not all. I am forced to rely on an inconsistent bus (that may or may not already have the maximum number of bikes on board).

I guess part of me thinks that any day now the sun is going to come out and I will experience the pure bliss of freedom only found on my bicycle. I love going days without having to be behind the wheel of the car. Driving is stressful, even more so than those ridiculous rides to work. I’m saving a little bit of money, but the best part about that is that I don’t have to go to the gas station as often, so I don’t have to get all depressed about how fast prices are going up. Mostly I think that I just really love riding my bike, and doing it for a few hours a day is pretty much as good as it gets, even if I do get soaking wet from the oh-so-typical Northwest rain.

I tried Pilates and went vegan today. Here’s a picture of my vegan lunch.

I’m giving up coffee, again.

I love coffee. I love the way it smells and the way it tastes (with cream and sugar, of course). I love everything that coffee means: a fresh start, a new beginning, a catalyst for action, a social event, and a kick in the pants. I love drip coffee and mochas equally, and my favorite mocha is served by Vivace on Broadway in Seattle.

Unfortunately, coffee makes me tired and grumpy. It takes a few weeks of drinking it regularly before I notice the change. Gradually it’s harder and harder to get up in the morning and I feel sluggish in the evening. I don’t sleep as well and my energy level is way below par.

Yesterday was my first day without a morning mug of joe and I’m already feeling more like myself. There was an extra bounce in my step this morning and I’m maintaining a more consistent feeling of satisfaction through the day. Coffee’s a hard friend to leave, but I think it’s worth it, for now.

When I was younger, I hated to get up in the morning. I’d hit snooze 10 times, making excuses in my head about how I could deal with being late for work or school. Feeling sleepy in the morning didn’t help get me in bed any earlier either. Even if I got plenty of sleep, getting out from under the covers the next day, no matter what time it was, constituted torture and I hated it.

About 4 years ago, Agent and I finally discovered a system that worked. She would get up when the alarm went off and start the shower. My values toward energy and water conservation would kick me out of bed straight away.

Just because I could finally get up on time in the morning didn’t mean that I liked it. I timed everything perfectly so I could sleep as long as possible, leaving no time for breakfast or any other activity.

When I gave up coffee to support my attempt to quit smoking, all of a sudden the morning became a time of delight instead of pain. I didn’t feel groggy or lazy. When the alarm went off, I easily woke up and headed to the shower. Agent doesn’t even have to start it for me anymore.

Starting my day earlier changed my life entirely. The morning became a time of day when I could choose the things I wanted to do. I could accomplish so much, even before heading to work. The world feels different in the morning too: fresh, full of potential, quiet, and alive. I’ve come to realize that I enjoy my time far more in the morning than I do late at night. This makes me feel like a grownup.

There’s been a lot said of taking advantage of the morning and how this leads to greater personal success. I would absolutely have to agree. Since beginning to get up early enough to do stuff, I’ve gotten in shape, landed an awesome job in the best city, bought a house, and discovered the endless joy of blogging. Mornings are the best!

Last night, I had a terrible dream wherein my life had completely fallen apart. My first thought was that I would take up smoking again, and my second thought was that I needed a drink.

I haven’t had a cigarette in 18 months but I still dream about smoking at least once a week. Mostly I dream about the struggle and shame of just having smoked and wake up feeling as though I’ve done something horribly wrong. Quitting smoking was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, and the thought of having to go through that again makes me feel sick to my stomach.

There’s a ton of resources out there for people who are ready to begin a smoke-free life, but I thought I’d share my story anyway. I figure anything might help.

I smoked a lot of cigarettes every day for 15 years. I tried to quit a couple of times, but only lasted a few days to maybe a few months at the longest. Smoking was my favorite thing to do and I certainly lived my life around the opportunities to smoke. If I didn’t smoke regularly, I turned into an irritable mess. Smoking made me feel grounded, centered, less lonely, and satisfied. Smoking also gave me bronchitis practically every year. I had pneumonia 3 times.

I started following The Artist’s Way in February. The Artist’s Way is a workbook that helps the reader realize their creative dreams. The most important task in The Artist’s Way is to write Morning Pages, 3 free-form handwritten pages of whatever you’re thinking at that moment. It didn’t take many days of doing this consistently before I began to discover how miserable I was.

Writing whatever came to mind seemed to get me in touch with the part of myself that wasn’t in denial. At first, I wrote about the hangovers and the bad moods I was experiencing far too often as a result of consistent intoxication. Really seeing how I was affected by my own behavior, it was easy for me to stop drinking.

Once I stopped drinking, it was easier for me to imagine the idea of quitting smoking. I set a quit date in July, gathered a list of all the reasons I wanted to quit, and bought the first phase of the patch to get me through the nicotine cravings.

I’m not sure how Agent and I got through those first three months. I know that above everything else, exercise was the key to my success. I started riding my bike all the time. A new ability to breathe deeply and fully was enough to help me relax when I felt uncontrollable cravings for a cigarette. Amazingly, Agent continued to smoke until December and this didn’t bother me in the slightest. I was quitting for myself, and it would have been harder to deal with Agent’s withdrawal at the same time.

I stayed on the patch longer than suggested on the packaging. I used it until I really didn’t feel like it anymore. I think that using a nicotine substitute decreased the possibility of feeling overwhelmed. I only experienced a couple of times when I felt so crazy that I thought cigarettes were the only answer to my excruciating torture.

One day I felt extra overwhelmed. I went to the book store and spent an hour in the self-help section, browsing through the smoking cessation books. The random tips they offered were enough to make me feel okay again. The only one I remember now was how a craving to smoke only lasts 60 seconds. If you can get through that 60 seconds without smoking, the craving dissipates. When I felt overwhelmed, this tip brought me back to reality.

It was so nice when I stopped thinking about smoking every day. Now, I barely think about smoking at all. If I do think about it, the thoughts are fleeting. I’m not trapped by smoking anymore. I don’t depend on a suicidal addiction anymore. It feels good to take care of my body and my life.