Contributed by Rose McMayhem--

Today, in what I would hesitate to call my brightest moment, I chose to ride my bicycle to work. Not just to the transit center, which is a mile away, but all the way to work, which is approximately 16 miles. Please keep in mind that the last time I attempted to get somewhere on a bicycle was 3 years ago and the ride was met with great misfortune, so not only am I woefully out of shape for such a trek, but I’m also a clumsy bike rider.

Today’s grand idea was inspired, in part, because I’m a fool who throws herself into things headfirst and then burns out quickly. Today was a great day to venture into the great two-wheeled unknown, though, since I normally do mentoring on Wednesdays, and so am not expected into work until 11- but school’s out now, so that’s an extra hour I can use on the road. I packed up my water bottle and Leatherman and headed out for a leisurely ride to work.

The following are excerpts from my mental journal along the ride.

10:01 am: This is nice. Good day for riding.

10:05 am: Why am I breathing so hard already?

10:12 am: Jeez, it’s taking forever just to get to the Lake Washington Trail.

10:15 am: So many damn hills. Who knew Seattle had so many hills? It’s like the damn San Francisco of the West.

10:17 am: Bottom hurts.

10:25 am: “Shift liberally,” the biking commuter’s guide said. “The gears are there for you to use.” Yeah, well, none of them are making this any easier. 18 gears and I hate them all.

10:28 am: The guide also said that half an hour each way burns roughly 500 calories, which amounts to losing 10 pounds over the next two months. At this rate, I’ll be lucky if I have 2% body fat by the end of the day.

10:35 am: What if I don’t make it? What if I end up like that pile of trash I just passed, decaying alongside the trail?

10:49 am: I see freeway- must be getting closer to Factoria. Wait, exit NINE? How the hell is it possible that I’m still in Renton? How did this city become so huge overnight?

10:53 am: I just saw Jesus. He appeared before me, reminded me to take my daily multivitamin, then turned into Whoopi Goldberg and vanished into thin air.

10:59 am: Hands hurt. Not sure where I am. Wish I’d brought signal flares.

11:12 am: Someone on a ten-speed just whizzed by me going uphill. F-you, ten-speed lady.

11:18 am: Pretty sure that dead bird alongside the trail just looked up at me and winked.

11:25 am: Creeping slowly up hills one foot at a time. Trying not to look farther ahead than 5 feet, lest my spirit be crushed more than it has been already by the sight of a never-ending incline.

11:33 am: Sign said the bike trail was this way, but now I’m parallel to 90 and heading East. I think I’m off course. Although I didn’t have much of a course to begin with.

11:34 am: Just passed a dude standing on the trail about two feet away from a retaining wall and staring at the wall. I know I didn’t imagine that.

11:36: Turned around. Headed in the right direction again, I think. Maybe I should call the Mister and have him come pick me up. NO! I will not accept defeat!

11:39 am: Bottom and hands hurt. And head. WHENCE ENDS MY JOURNEY?

11:42 am: Civilization ahoy! Oh Bellevue, my Eastside queen! Never before have I been so relieved to set eyes on you!

11:51 am: Dude just sped past with all his sinewy legs, lookin’ like it ain’t no thang to conquer these hills. I hate him.

11:58 am: Loaded the bike onto Route 565 at the Bellevue Transit Center and bussed it the rest of the way up to campus. Like hell I’m gonna ride the other, steeper half of the way there. Clipped a woman’s heel as we were getting on the bus and quickly apologized. She glared like I had no right to speak to her, let alone accidentally touch her. LADY, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’VE JUST BEEN THROUGH. DO NOT TEST ME.

12:34 pm: Arrived at work…a little later than I’d planned, and only marginally defeated. The trip home will be radically different, I guarantee you that.

I made this friends-only for a while, because Rose is getting picked on by the annonymouse Renton masses. (I think they might be taking it all too seriously.)

What do you livejournal friends think I should do?

Here is her article:

I'm not one for resolutions, but invariably at this time of year my thoughts turn to how things could be improved. Not just in my personal life, but on a grander scale: how can we work together to make our living situation better? Here are a few subjects of personal ire that will never be resolved lest we all contribute:

(1) The left lane is for passing. The left lane is for passing. The left lane is for passing. If you're still not getting it: KEEP RIGHT UNLESS YOU ARE PASSING. Traffic flows much more smoothly when drivers make proper use of the road- and keep in mind that you're there to get from point A to point B, not to teach others a lesson. You know those times when someone creeps up on you from behind, highbeams a-blazin', and you mutter: "I'm already doing 60. They don't need to get past?" Just let them pass anyway. Let them do 70 if they want, and maybe you'll get the giddy justification of seeing them pulled over further down the freeway. If not, no skin off your nose, right?

(2) While we're on the subject of not teaching lessons on the roadway, don't do that thing where you see someone trying to merge coming up from behind you, and you see they're going to pass you, so you move over to block them- especially not if the actual merge point is 200 yards ahead. If they have enough lane left to get past you, let them get past. You're just making the backup worse by stopping them before it's necessary.

(3) As my dad has pointed out many a time, you ever notice that people walk like they drive? Rule number one above applies to walking as well, and this is a critical one in malls. Further, do not stop in the middle of the aisle when you are shopping. This transgression was one I saw countless times over the holidays. I will run into you, if only to prove a point. I know I said no teaching lessons, but it's less dangerous on foot than by vehicle. If you stop short of me in the middle of Southcenter, expect that I'll keep going and demonstrate exactly how I've been inconvenienced, because it's infinitely more fulfilling to prove a point about common sense than it is to swerve around you and let you think it's an acceptable practice.

(4) I'm not sure how this one is fixable, really, but have you ever been in a checkout line for more time than when you shop at Fred Meyer? I could be buying a single box of cereal and going through the U-Scan checkout, and STILL it takes ten minutes, whether I'm on Benson, downtown, or in Crossroads. I guess there's not a workable solution here; I just needed to get that out there.

(5) Get your coffee anywhere but Starbucks. I know, it's hard- I have trouble keeping myself away from their ubiquitous stores as well; I can hardly call myself a Starbucks teetotaler. Sometimes it's just too convenient. And I do recognize that they came from the area so technically buying there is supporting local business, but COME ON. It's completely, utterly soulless, and there's better coffee to be had elsewhere. My favorite is Sips on Sunset Blvd, which not only has excellent white chocolate mochas, but also hot baristas. We are the coffee-buying market here, people- the rest of the world doesn't have a Starbucks on every corner like we do here. Clearly we consume a helluva lot of caffeine, and if that caffeine (and those Joni Mitchell CD's!) was bought elsewhere, we could take a substantial bite out of the market. Next time you're complaining about the calories in your Frappucino or burnt taste of your Christmas blend, consider the other local coffee shops and stands that make the area in part what it is, and how their razor-thin profit margin could really use your help.

(6) I guess what I'm getting at here, what the overarching theme is, is: have a little courtesy, huh? You can live a full and fast-paced life without being a total schmuck about it. Pay attention to the people around you. If you accidentally back into them with your pool cue, apologize. If you pull halfway out onto Grady from 167 right in front of someone, wave a sorry and back the hell up. And also, look out for your neighbors. One of the greatest things about my house is the older couple who live across the street and keep an eye on things, while one of the worst things about my boyfriend's place is that it was broken into twice with no leads. This place is what it is because of the people who are here- take care of each other or I'll hurt you.

Happy New Year, and may you take an active part in the perpetual betterment of your community.

Rose McMayhem

I wasn't raised in a church, and certainly didn't lament this decision; friends who had to be picked up early on Sunday after spending the night found no envy from me. My parents- raised in low-intensity Christian households- were lax churchgoers in their younger lives; they were married in a church but had few close ties to it. When the time came to decide whether they'd impose religion upon their offspring, they declined to do so.

I liked the idea of believing in god when I was young, but beyond that didn't give it much thought. I was more prone to telling wishes to my worry dolls and leaving them under my pillow than turning to prayer. In high school, I realized that the whole concept of religion didn't make sense to me. By college, I was certain there was no creator.

Some people might think my absence of faith molded me into a heartless heathen; some might even accuse my parents of denying me a relationship with god- neither is true. My life is guided by a set of values that I think anyone would agree are fair and decent: I'm a loving sister, daughter, and girlfriend who values kindness and endeavors to treat others with respect. I'm also certain that regardless of my parents' decision, by virtue of who I am I would've come to the same conclusion about religion, so their actions are without fault.

Whether or not you agree with my standpoint is immaterial. If others choose to believe in a deity, I have no desire to take that away from them. I am not here to debate truth and reality, as there's no end to that maelstrom; I'm here only to comment on my experience as a nonbeliever during the holiday season and to enlighten anyone who thinks it means nothing to me.

What I have chosen to believe clearly does not exactly jibe with the Reason for the Season. This wasn't something I ever found particularly hypocritical until my boyfriend, a long-lapsed Catholic, brought it to my attention. When he gave up religion, he gave up everything that went along with it- including Christmas. As a result, he thinks it's silly for non-religious families to participate in Christmas. This is a sentiment that I understand, but do not entirely agree with- it's a logical conclusion, but not a necessary one. Having spent each December 25th of my life gathered around a Christmas tree with my immediate family, I'm not inclined to forfeit the tradition, rational though it may be to do so- and the reason is that while Christmas holds absolutely no religious meaning for me personally, I very much enjoy it on a social scale.

Heresy, right? Not quite. Just because I don't celebrate Jesus' birthday doesn't mean I don't still enjoy the holiday and hold it up as a unique occasion to gather with loved ones. It doesn't mean that the whole extended, secular family doesn't come over to exchange gifts, have dinner, and enjoy each others' company, and it certainly doesn't mean that I'm devoid of morals or have a spiritual hole in my life. This time of year is important and special to us, even if we don't sing hymns- the scope may be a little bit different, but the main ingredients are still there. It's the one day a year that nearly everything shuts down and we spend the day lazing about near the fireplace, drinking coffee with Bailey's and enjoying our new sweaters. And leading up to that day, everyone is so damned nice. People are more prone to get along with each other at this time of year, and how is THAT not worth the celebration?

It's like Garfield said: "It's not the giving. It's not the getting. It's the loving." I'm on board with that sentiment 100%, and even without a supreme being to guide my way, there's plenty of love given and received among my family at Christmas.

By the way, I have no desire to campaign for calling Christmas trees "holiday trees" in an attempt to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy. That's a load of crap to me, watering down belief systems for public consumption- there are too many different facets of society to be able to please every one of them, so just call the damn thing what it is. Inclusion of everyone doesn't work on this scale, and to force it just pisses off the people who are having their traditions stepped on.

So I hope that those of you celebrating next week with Jesus' birthday in mind aren't bothered that plenty of us have co-opted the holiday with little religious basis, but as far as the spirit of the season goes, we're right there with you cherishing our family and friends. Have a merry Christmas, whatever you believe in.

Rose McMayhem

I'm enthusiastically introducing a new contributer tonight. Rose McMayhem grew up in our city, attended out local schools, graduated from University of Washington, and she writes some of the most creative, funniest journal entries I have read. She has generously agreed to share her writing talent with readers of this blog. Her perspective is younger than mine, which is a good thing, and far less city hall oriented...which is also a good thing. Please let her know what you think about her writing...help me encourage Rose and Keri Kopnick to keep sharing their talents with us by leaving them some comments.

Thanks!

Randy
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Welcome to the South shore of Lake Washington. It’s maligned by many, is home to tens of thousands, and relatively speaking, has a pretty impressive history. In my 3rd grade class at Maplewood Heights, we did a unit on the history of the city, and I, for one, was impressed with how far back we’d been around and what a stake we had in driving the industrialization of the area- between mining, Paccar and Boeing, we were contributing quite a bit to the region as far as jobs and products at the beginning of the 20th century.

All history aside, though, the place is clearly not the pinnacle of white-trash-dom that John Keister would have the greater Seattle Metropolitan area believe (no disrespect, John- I know you have to make a living). Time and time again, when asked where I live, my response is met with a grimace and look of pity- much like the reaction one gets when they own up to a lifestyle so foreign to others that they assume couldn’t possibly have been a conscious choice, but must have happened by accident or coersion. To wit: I’m an atheist (cringe!). I have 10 stepchildren (gasp!). I bought a Ford (you poor thing!).

I had a city-dwelling friend who always made a point to tell others in my presence, apologetically: “She lives in Renton.” And so on; you all know what I mean. They assume there’s something wrong with us.

Don’t feel sorry for me; your pity is unnecessary. In fact, it’s insulting- while some extraneous circumstances may be assumed to exist, in general it’s safe to say that if I hated the place, I wouldn’t live here. On the contrary, 25 of my 27 ½ years have been spent in the little city that’s “ahead of the curve,” and let’s be clear on one thing: it hasn’t been against my will. Yeah, I got out for a little while. Left home after college and spread my wings all the way up in the Central District. Turned out that city life wasn’t for me, though- despite the crowding, everyone kept to themselves a little too much, and everyone had something to prove. So when I was looking to get out, I looked back from where I’d come and bought a little place not far from where I’d grown up- on familiar terrain, and near my dad’s shop (critical to those of us who drive older vehicles).

Did I find it to be a concession; the only feasible location for someone who had to keep her mortgage payments low? Nah, it was exactly what I wanted, and in the 3 years I’ve spent in my chosen neighborhood, I haven’t regretted it.

Well, save for the hoodlum neighbors on one side of me…but every town’s got those; there are jerks everywhere. Same as there are pleasant people everywhere, and we’ve got a surplus of those as well.

No…really. You just have to shake off the patina of prejudice you’ve been burdened with to see that Renton is just another suburb: in reality, it’s no more of a ghetto than the older parts of Bellevue, although people tend to miss that detail because we’re not all upper-middle-class whites here. But yes, it is a suburb, so if that’s the issue people have with it, I can’t defend it. However, if it’s a matter of it being any more or less livable than the surrounding environs, well then, me and my little army of proud Rentonites would like to talk to you.

Suffice it to say it annoys me when people put Renton down: I’ve chosen to live here, I like living here, no amount of good-natured chiding is going to change my mind about that- so take your pity and shove it. Myself and an army of perfectly normal people are happy with this place.

Rose McMayhem