I Love Zone Bars, part 2

As stated earlier in one of my posts, I love Zone Bars. I would rather eat them than any candy bar, protein bar, or vegetable. Not only do they have a whopping 15 grams of protein, but they also contacted me from my previous post to offer a trial of their newest product, cookie dough varieties. I am still waiting for the delivery, probably sometime this week.

Now, this could be an example of how the universe works. Ask for something and it will come to you. I just put the word out for someone to send me Zone Bars like a celebrity, and BOOM, they are on their way. This is the power of the pen at work!

I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship...

Stress Is a Speed Bump on the Fwy

I have recently reverted back to my old state as "victim." That attribute snuck in as I was paying attention to something else. I was stressing myself out, and forgetting who I am.

I am a powerful, creative woman. I am a writer, a blogger and sometimes a graphic artist, on a small scale. And I stress myself out with internal messages like "I'm not good enough" or "I'll never get this done." I tell myself lies and then I believe them.

Enough is enough. Just because I used to go to that loser place doesn't mean I belong there. I don't belong there. I left that location in 1989, or there abouts. So how did I find myself there last week? It's an easy place to go. It's actually easier to go there than not.

The waves just wash me up on that shore. Usually I'm tossed about before the ocean spits me out onto the sands of that beach. No creative juices flow here, it is just sand, quicksand. There are no dreams or goals here, only "I wish..."

"I wish" is not a powerful place. It is a place for victims who have no goals or plans -- no road maps. "I wish" is a place for those who can't say "I am going there, even without a map." There is no determination, there is no quest.

And it all comes about from the quicksand-like entrapment of stress. Stress can keep me immobilized, and victimized. It keeps me there until I remember who I am. It is then I remember my skills and talents. It is then I am released. It is then I book an exit off this place, and I am home again.

Autumn Is A Middle-Aged Woman

I've been listening to old Simon and Garfunkle lately. It returns such feelings, and it brings new ones as well. What is it about music that moves me so? Is it the slight melancholia that wraps itself like a warm blanket around my memories? Is it the timelessness of those memories that present themselves in a three minute format? Maybe it is just that time of year.

For me, fall brings to mind a reflection of not only the past year, but also my past. It is the aging of the year, it is the aging of me. It is the march towards death, it's the end of the year. That alone is a tiny death.

In January, everything is new and possible. As the year progresses, the blooming of events reveal longer days and more activity. After the rush of summer brings a slowing, an aging. I begin to feel older. I am more tired. The days shorten. I bring out my sweats. Even the flowers begin to deconstruct.

Autumn is like a middle-aged woman, still lots of surprises, still a slowness. Sometimes one's past is bigger than one's future, sometimes there is a second bloom.

Don't ever give up on the year. Don't ever give up on the self. Even though the year is waning, I am not. Not this year. My possibilities are blooming like April. And still the fall brings me to reflect on the yesterdays of my life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lO9Ild2cvdg&feature=related

Another Year Down!

Friday was my 54th birthday. Why be coy about it? Yes, I'm 54. I've never been a female who was shy about her age. Why bother. Plus I am so interested in other people's ages. It's just something to guage a person by. It's really a curiosity. Ask me about my weight and well, that is a subject I'm silent about.

Speaking of weight, I am still on that plateau, not gaining but not losing either. I have one year to make my goal of 175lbs. by my 55 birthday. I know it's a reachable goal. Afterall, I don't have to quit smoking again. I like to think that is why I have only lost 30 lbs this year. Most people gain weight when they quit. I still lost. And I must say those 14 inches didn't drop off in my sleep!

So now that I've given myself a shout out (I deserve it during my birthday week), it's time to recommit. Or maybe I should wait until my week is over? Anyway It's good to be conscious of it. I want to get back to mostly raw foods. I like that food plan. No more than two Zone Perfect bars a day (yikes), cut out most sugar and white foods, and let the cards fall where they will.

Of course I will be Trikking all the way to 2030, when I will be put into the old Trikker's home, where we will relive all our skills and spills all the way to the grave. I know, but it's my week, and I can get away with anything self-indulgent. This blog is called JTs full of herself for a reason!

Bye-Bye (Blue) Birdie

I have graduated to the next level of Trikking, the T8. It seems to be a shrunk-down version of a T12, which is the cadillac of the Trikke world. So if the T12 is the cadillac, the T8 must be the corvette.

I am still getting used to the T8, just like a new bike or new anything. It is just different. I even notice the difference in a new computer keyboard to be honest. So getting used to the T8 requires new muscles to work, a new wiggle if you will.

My first Trikke, (blue) Birdie, will be sold to a good home as I step forward into a new realm of Trikking. The new T8, (Black) Birdie, is such a smooth ride! All I have to do is move the handlebars back and forth and I just glide down the sidewalk. This is what land skiing is all about.

The T8 feels like the lubed-up version of the T78. It feels just like an oil change in my old mustang, (back when I had that car). I never noticed anything until I drove out of the tune-up bay. The car felt like it was on rails. I just glided down the street. I am gliding once again.

If I could talk to a T78 fan, I would tell them to step up to the T8. Immediately. I fell in love with Trikking all over again! The cost is so worth it, especially since I plan to Trikke for many years to come. Plus, South Bay Trikke has refurbished models available right now at a greatly reduced price.

So, Step up... You know you want to.

Farewell, Blue Birdie!

Labor Day=Trikke Day

The Labor Day Trikke Ride in Long Beach was a huge success! We had 20 Trikkers on the bike path. This is something Long Beach has never seen. And yet, something Long Beach will see several times per year hereafter. I am so pleased with the baby I birthed.

After riding all 10 miles, I was beat! We all went to a pub after and had lunch. What a hearty group. For someone who is not comfortable in a crowd I did really well. After all we all have something in common -- a love for Trikking. Everything else is incidental.

Since the "ride" I have been exhausted. I've been beat from that positive energy. But what a way to be!

Who knew that, when I first saw someone on a Trikke and knew I had to have one, it would open up a whole world of new friends and colleagues.

If this were the Trikke Awards I would give the most inspirational award to he who first showed me his Trikke. To South Bay Trikke an award for best selling, servicing and teaching. And Trikke gets the award for the most fun on three wheels.

I of course would get best female athlete of the day because no one tried harder than me to complete the circuit!

I Love My Trikke

Can A Bike Do This?

I have been writing about my Love Affair With My Trikke for a year now, and I must say I still love my Trikke. Even more than last year! It is just One Fun Ride! I even quit smoking to trikke better.

Recently I have been taking more chances on the Trikke. I have been Trusting My Trikke more and more. All you have to do is Color Me Blown Away! And the weight, well it comes off in hits and misses, like in Another Seven Down. All I know is I am in much better shape than I have ever been in. Even if I am not always going down the scale, I am always and forever Ms. Trikke USA!

All my Trikke posts are written under the label, JTs full of her Trikke. I also have another label -- JTs full of her health, which is about my weight loss with the Trikke. Check out me and Birdie!

Also looking forward to my new T8 coming in September. Will post pics soon. Must name new Trikke...

One Fun Ride

I haven't written about my love affair with my Trikke lately. It's not because we're on the rocks. It's not because I have decided to use it as a clothes rack. It's because I have been in training for the last six weeks.

I have been riding seriously every other day for those weeks because I want to build my Trikke-muscles for the Labor Day Trikke Ride in Long Beach, exactly one week from today. I've been in training to ride farther and am now able to cover 10 miles. This is quite a goal buster for me.

I've had my Trikke for a year now and I still remember when it was hard to go around the block. I thought 10 miles was farther than my body could dream of. And yet here I am.

My body has changed so much. I am leaner. I am harder. I have upper body strength. I have definition. Not bad for a 54 year old obese woman with fibromyalgia!

I still have a long way to go. So far the journey has been packed with fun and hard work. After all Trikkes don't move themselves.

After next week I can go back to trikking any day I want for as long as I want. I won't stop traveling 10 miles. When I think of it, I will never be out of training as long as I'm breathing and loving my Trikke.

The Shoulders I've Tread Upon

I can't help but think of the women before me. They led the way for me to live as I've pleased, to make the choices I've been confronted with. Yet, How many centuries have women been born into a straight-jacket of servitude? How long before we had choices?

Just think, one hundred years ago, a woman could not live alone. She would not be single and she would not be without children whose noses needed to be wiped or who's diapers needed to be changed.

Even 50 years ago a woman needed a man to get through. These women were born to serve. After watching my mother work all day and come home to work all night, I saw that being a woman was a rotten deal.

Without words, I learned what was in store for me. And yet, I was lucky enough to be born in an era where I had choices. Should I marry? Should I have a career? After all it's just too much work to have it all.

I never wanted to pick up after a man like my mother did. The price was too high for me. And I can't help being grateful for all those unnamed women who were stuck in a life of subservience and who dreamed a better dream. I get to reap the benefits of those dreams.

I thank all the women whose shoulders I've tread upon. And I thank them for the life I live today. Without them I wouldn't have the choice to be with a man or to stand alone.