This past weekend, Justin and I went shooting with a couple of friends in the National Forest. We picked a legal shooting location; a safe place off of the trail where we could shoot into the side of a mountain. Nobody could walk in front of us and on the off-chance a bullet should ricochet, it wouldn't hit anyone because of the nature of the landscape. We always practice very safe gun handling techniques and have never had a problem with anyone until this weekend.
It was late in the afternoon and we heard footsteps in the distance, so we stopped shooting, turned on the gun's safety and laid it down with the barrel pointed safely away from anyone. We see this as a common courtesy. It's all part of sharing the forest.
Moments after we heard the footsteps, a middle-aged woman with medium-length stringy brown hair appeared with a couple of younger hikers. We greeted her and as soon as she saw the guns, she started bitching at us about shooting in the forest.
"Stop shooting in my forest! You're destroying the serenity of the forest! You're wrecking my hike! You're ruining my day! Blah! Blah! Blah!"
I got angry and spat out, "Excuse me, but what part of multi-use trail do you not understand? We pay taxes which means we have as much of a right to be here as you do."
Unfortunately, the woman was bitching too loud to hear me. She just kept walking and bitching. A second later, she turned her wrath on a young couple who was hiking with their puppy, who was on a leash. Apparently, this woman didn't just have a grudge against shooters, but she also had one against people with dogs. In her expert opinion, dogs poop on the trail, scare wildlife and cause trail erosion. Oh please!
I wanted to escort this witch to the giant trail head sign that explains the rules and regulations for this part of the National Forest. I wanted to clarify to her what a multi-use trail was and how if she doesn't like the rules, then she'd be better off finding another trail to hike. There are plenty of trails around that are single-use only, for example the hundreds of miles of trails in the nearby Rocky Mountain National Park.
I was so irritated after crossing paths with this woman. It reminded me of Bunchy Spandex Man and the jerk who griped at me for snowshoeing and walking the dog alongside his cross country ski trail. (Never mind that we never touched the pristine cross country ski tracks).
What is with the increasing number of people with entitlement problems?! It is so aggravating that I've spent weeks thinking up a solution. And finally, I think I have one.
Whenever anyone spouts off about owning the trail or the road or the lake or the river or the stream, I think we should turn to them and belt out in our off-key voices:
"This land is your land, this land is my land, this land was made for you and me."
This will either scare the grouch enough to prevent further visits to the area they believe they own or it will force them to reconsider what it means to share. Either way, it's a win-win situation.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Bunchy Spandex Man
This past weekend, my husband and I did a 45 mile bike ride from Longmont to the Boulder Farmer's Market and back again. It was a fantastic ride. The weather was perfect, not too hot, not too cold. But during the ride, we had an irritating encounter with another bicyclist. We were on the shoulder of highway 36 riding single file and riding as far to the right of the shoulder as possible when we began to climb a big hill.
Suddenly this fifty-something year old asshole bicyclist comes up behind us with his spandex in a bunch and spouts like a two year old, "There goes that workout!"
"Excuse me?" I looked in my mirror and saw that Justin was still right behind me. The jerk had plenty of room to go around us. The shoulder was wide enough for some riders to comfortably ride three-wide, which is irritating, but I'll get to that later. Back to the jerk. I shouted up to him and said, "Hey, don't get pissed off at us because you're not good enough to pass us. There was plenty of room for you to go around. " That got me the finger.
I so wanted to storm the hill and pass him like he was standing still. I knew I could because he, like all posers, wasn't very fast. Unfortunately, that didn't matter because I couldn't pass him anyway thanks to a serious issue I was having with my left knee.
That knee needed to last for another 20 miles and if I knew that I stormed the hill and passed bunchy spandex guy, I'd have a temporary moment of gloating and glory followed by a long, humiliating wait while Justin rode home and grabbed the car to come and pick me up. And then there's the fact that we don't have health insurance right now and can't afford a visit to the doctor or emergency room brought on by pride. Yeah, humbling this guy just wasn't worth it. This time...
What possessed this Lance Armstrong wanna be to be such a jerk? And furthermore, what's the deal with these wanna be elitist bicyclists thinking they own the road? I get so mad at people like this because they intimidate normal, nice people who are just out for a nice bike ride. As a Personal Fitness Trainer, I know a comment like the one he made is enough to make a first time bicyclist think twice about ever biking again and that's not cool.
Bikers like bunchy spandex jerk need to take lessons on riding etiquette from real bicyclists. These real bicyclists are not weekend warriors. They are the athletes who wake up before the butt crack of dawn every single day to whip out a one hundred mile ride before heading home to go on with the rest of their day.
These men and women are humble and polite on the road. They share the shoulder, they wave or nod or say hi when passing another cyclist, when they ride double, they always move over to share the road when other cyclists need to pass, they always ask if a cyclist needs help changing a tire or fixing an issue with his or her bike and finally they ride their own ride with nothing to prove to anyone but themselves.
So, if you ever run into bunchy spandex guy, feel free to pass him, squirt him with your water bottle and inform him that he does not own the road nor the sport of bicycling. Then remind him of a little saying that goes something like this, "If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen."
Suddenly this fifty-something year old asshole bicyclist comes up behind us with his spandex in a bunch and spouts like a two year old, "There goes that workout!"
"Excuse me?" I looked in my mirror and saw that Justin was still right behind me. The jerk had plenty of room to go around us. The shoulder was wide enough for some riders to comfortably ride three-wide, which is irritating, but I'll get to that later. Back to the jerk. I shouted up to him and said, "Hey, don't get pissed off at us because you're not good enough to pass us. There was plenty of room for you to go around. " That got me the finger.
I so wanted to storm the hill and pass him like he was standing still. I knew I could because he, like all posers, wasn't very fast. Unfortunately, that didn't matter because I couldn't pass him anyway thanks to a serious issue I was having with my left knee.
That knee needed to last for another 20 miles and if I knew that I stormed the hill and passed bunchy spandex guy, I'd have a temporary moment of gloating and glory followed by a long, humiliating wait while Justin rode home and grabbed the car to come and pick me up. And then there's the fact that we don't have health insurance right now and can't afford a visit to the doctor or emergency room brought on by pride. Yeah, humbling this guy just wasn't worth it. This time...
What possessed this Lance Armstrong wanna be to be such a jerk? And furthermore, what's the deal with these wanna be elitist bicyclists thinking they own the road? I get so mad at people like this because they intimidate normal, nice people who are just out for a nice bike ride. As a Personal Fitness Trainer, I know a comment like the one he made is enough to make a first time bicyclist think twice about ever biking again and that's not cool.
Bikers like bunchy spandex jerk need to take lessons on riding etiquette from real bicyclists. These real bicyclists are not weekend warriors. They are the athletes who wake up before the butt crack of dawn every single day to whip out a one hundred mile ride before heading home to go on with the rest of their day.
These men and women are humble and polite on the road. They share the shoulder, they wave or nod or say hi when passing another cyclist, when they ride double, they always move over to share the road when other cyclists need to pass, they always ask if a cyclist needs help changing a tire or fixing an issue with his or her bike and finally they ride their own ride with nothing to prove to anyone but themselves.
So, if you ever run into bunchy spandex guy, feel free to pass him, squirt him with your water bottle and inform him that he does not own the road nor the sport of bicycling. Then remind him of a little saying that goes something like this, "If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen."
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Manual Yard Work Burns Thousands of Calories
Okay, so I haven't done a blog entry in a while because I've been busy doing yard work and enjoying the gorgeous spring weather. The other day, while I was picking weeds and manually chopping our out of control lilac bushes, I began to think about how much motorized lawn tools rob you out of burning calories and building muscles.
Had Justin and I had electric hedge trimmers, we could have neatened up the lilac bushes in a couple of hours. Instead, it took days of sweat inducing, muscle burning chopping to get the job done.
Had we had a chainsaw, we could have hacked down all of the dead tree limbs in our yard in about three seconds and then chopped them up into firewood within a few minutes. Instead, we sawed and sawed and sawed them all by hand and even after all of this work, we still have three more logs to chop into firewood.
To control the weed problem, we could have bought some deadly herbicide and simply sprayed the yard, but we're not into poisoning the yard and the dog, so we've spent the past few weeks weeding by hand, doing a little at a time, building finger muscle strength, building leg strength by squatting, standing, squatting, standing.
And finally, had we had a rototiller, we could have tilled the soil where we needed to plant grass seed, but we didn't, so we used a shovel to turn the dirt and prepare the soil.
Sure, it takes more time to finish yard work when you do it manually, but it's highly worth the effort. Not only is there a certain level of satisfaction that comes from doing manual yard work, but there's also a certain amount of satisfaction that comes with knowing that you've burned so many excess calories that a serving or two of ice cream isn't going to do you any harm.
Had Justin and I had electric hedge trimmers, we could have neatened up the lilac bushes in a couple of hours. Instead, it took days of sweat inducing, muscle burning chopping to get the job done.
Had we had a chainsaw, we could have hacked down all of the dead tree limbs in our yard in about three seconds and then chopped them up into firewood within a few minutes. Instead, we sawed and sawed and sawed them all by hand and even after all of this work, we still have three more logs to chop into firewood.
To control the weed problem, we could have bought some deadly herbicide and simply sprayed the yard, but we're not into poisoning the yard and the dog, so we've spent the past few weeks weeding by hand, doing a little at a time, building finger muscle strength, building leg strength by squatting, standing, squatting, standing.
And finally, had we had a rototiller, we could have tilled the soil where we needed to plant grass seed, but we didn't, so we used a shovel to turn the dirt and prepare the soil.
Sure, it takes more time to finish yard work when you do it manually, but it's highly worth the effort. Not only is there a certain level of satisfaction that comes from doing manual yard work, but there's also a certain amount of satisfaction that comes with knowing that you've burned so many excess calories that a serving or two of ice cream isn't going to do you any harm.
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