Slope Style

Winter Park, Colorado:  Slope style, I gather, is an extreme form of mountain biking.  I watched in a mixture of amazement and horror as young males of the human species astride bicycles hurled themselves over a series of dirt berms.  I’d say they were airborne for a considerable part of the ride, performing upside down and sideways flips.  Oh my God.

Meanwhile, spectators could view the entire ride on a super-large TV screen.  And there were replays.  An announcer gave a play-by-play description, using phrases like, “Way to go, Dude!”  or “Nice ride, Dude.”  When one particularly talented rider began his run, a remote-control helicopter with a camera monitored his progress.  There was an enthusiastic shout from the announcer:  “SHUT THE FRONT DOOR,” which meant that’s the best we’ll see.  Nobody can beat that.

When another rider suffered a nasty fall, the announcer asked, “Hey dude, you all right?”  Medics came in.  It was determined that there was a dislocated shoulder, and it was not the first time it had happened.  First aid was administered.  It sounded oh so painful. I am glad I’m not his mom.

It’s a world I’ve only recently heard about, but it seems to have a considerable following.  Slope style is not a sport for the faint hearted, but it’s pretty amazing to see.

Big picture photo below shows rider slightly below center, big screen video at left center, Winter Park Resort, center right.

You Mean the Lights Aren't On?

Last night I watched the PBS program "Nova."  It was about the amazing and complex human brain and how it works.

It was said that all of this miraculous brain activity is going on in darkness, inside the skull.  I realized, of course, it must be dark in there.  But I had never before thought about it being dark.

The way I had visualized it before, the lights were on.

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/body/how-does-the-brain-work.html

Greensburg, Kansas, Four Years After the Tornado

On May 4, 2007, a massive tornado destroyed the western Kansas town of Greensburg, Kansas.

The day after that, I made a note in my journal:  "News today: A tornado completely destroyed the town of Greensburg, Kansas, last night around 9 pm.  The path was 3/4 mile wide !! "

On March 22, 2011, nearly four years after the tornado, it was another windy day on the Kansas plains.  Tumbleweeds rolled across Kansas Highway 54.  By the time we stopped at Greensburg I had already experienced two close calls with losing my hat.  Our Kansas road map had blown out of the car at a rest stop; it sailed into the air, heading in the general direction of Wichita.  But this was only straight line wind.

The Greensburg tornado had been big news in the Midwest, so we wanted to make a stop to fill up with gas.  It was the least we could do to pay our respects to the people who had rebuilt.

This is what we saw: Little or nothing left of the older structures.  Maybe a bare concrete slab here and there, but that was about all.  The buildings were new.  The trees told the story, though.  A few--not many--main trunks and branches--the parts that survived the tornado--remained.  Four years of delicate new growth stood out in a feathery pattern.  The green leaves had not yet appeared; it was yet too early in the spring.

Kinda makes me think about rebuilding after a disaster.  What is it about home and about land?

  

Remembering Jack LaLanne

This morning I heard the news that my long-time virtual friend, Jack LaLanne died at the age of 96.  He was one of my silver lamps: a person who showed me a new and better way of looking at things.


I guess it must have been in the late 1950s or early 1960s when I first saw Jack on our black-and-white TV.  I was a young teen girl then.  I disliked exercise and preferred cake over broccoli in those days; however, I also envied movie stars with their slender waistlines. I wasn't really overweight, but I thought I was.  In the summer when school was out and on holidays I began to exercise with Jack LaLanne in hopes of slimming my waistline.


Jack led his TV viewers through marching in place, holding onto a chair if needed for balance.  There were sets of other exercises, too.  But the thing that influenced me the most was his philosophy of health.  I don't remember exactly the words he used, but the essence of it was this:  You have been given an amazing, wonderful body, so honor your body and treat it with respect.  Love your body, and that's the only diet you'll ever need.


At the time, fitness wasn't considered trendy as it is today.  I began to eat healthier food because of Jack LaLanne, but I kept it a secret.  "Cool" in those days was eating french fries and hamburgers and stuff listed on the photo above.  I didn't tell my friends about my apples and whole wheat bread.


I bought Jack's book, The Jack LaLanne Way to Vibrant Good Health.  I bought a "glamour stretcher," a stretchy blue exercise device that would add some resistance.


I admired Jack's birthday rituals of strength, often involving swimming in San Francisco Bay while towing something, like a boat.  Many, many years later, I would visit San Francisco and come to realize the chill of the water and the distance from Fisherman's Wharf to Alcatraz Island.  I would think of Jack.


So Jack, I thank you for changing my attitude about exercise and nutrition.  I never took physical culture to the extent you did, and I never looked like Barbie.  But that's not the point, is it?  It's all about honoring the body in which we live and move and have our being on earth.  Love you, Jack.