Now/here no/where woman

I have two daughters. The Artist-in-Residence is now 18 years old. The Little Boss is now 14 months old. The Artist-in-Residence and I are still in the adolescent phase, which can sometimes be more intense than the infancy or toddler phase of parenting. And then I went and decided to start all over again. Several things had to stop: drinking, partying and biking -- among other important matters, of course. I knew all that was coming. After pregnancy and 14-months of breastfeeding (and still breastfeeding) the Little Boss, I have finally been reunited with one of my great loves. Yes, mountain biking. I have two mountain bikes. The First Love is a hard-tail and has been with me for 16 years now. Sexy Sadie is a full-suspension, new addition to my stable. On that first trail ride the other day with Sexy Sadie, I shivered with the realization that it had been a long, long time since I felt I was being true to myself. Being a mother entails a lot of self-sacrifice. I don't co...

I'm far from ready to race again but I plan on planting myself by a fun section of the route (preferably where there will be a lot of shade and a lot of action -- jumps, drops, or spectacular crashes!) and enjoying some of the best company there is this side of the mountain biking world. Top prizes are fun and bragging rights. You can join only if you are endorsed by a godfather. If you have any complaints, you may proceed to two of the toughest mixed martial arts gyms in the Philippines. This race smacks of the classic humor and, well, braggadociousness of some biker boys I know in Baguio and La Trinidad, and will most likely have a mind-blowing, lung-busting, muscle-ripping route. Am I right, or am I right? Format: The enduro format is played out on a trail course and requires considerable technical skills to tackle the downhill portions and enough legpower to get back up to the next downhill leg. The downhill legs, called Special sta ges, are conducted as Individual Time...

When most people go to worship or meditate in the churches, mosques, temples, or zendos of their choice in order to address their God in heaven or the God within, I get on my bicycle and venture out on a long ride with a circle of loved and trusted friends. Good friends, good laughs, beautiful Yabnong and Ugo trails, great ride. It may seem like we're having too much fun swooping down a heavenly single track trail; we may appear to be overly obsessed with proving a macho point by pedaling hard up a steep climb; or, as often happens, we come across as just plain idiotic and irreverent when we're clowning around during rest stops. But when we cycle far enough away from our daily lives I believe we are gifted, in one moment of pedaling, with a flash of oneness with the world at large. I feel completely present in one place, in that time, in my body, in that one revolution of the pedals. When that happens, I remember how small I am in the grand scheme of things. A dot on...

Mountain biking isn't always about getting a workout, biting through technical trail sections, ripping down gnarly slopes, upping the ante, and getting that unrivaled adrenaline rush. (Although most of the time it is!) Sometimes, the pleasures of mountain biking are as uncomplicated as cycling slowly through Baguio's quiet, unpolluted streets lined with old and empty houses, finding your way to a roadside carinderia that serves delicious Malaysian dishes at just a little more than carinderia prices, and stopping for a hearty lunch. And then you cycle -- still full and slow -- to the nearest trail and wend your way through the roots, mud, and rocks like you have all the time in the world to pedal and appreciate the way the afternoon light is wafting through the trees and throwing shafts of gold and dappled shadows on everything. Yup, you got it folks, this is yet another unabashed declaration of my love for saddle time.

1. Good friends, warm hugs, hearty laughter. 2. Hearty meals. 3. Fresh air. 4. Biting cold. 5. Mountains, mountains, mountains. 6. Elders. 7. Pinikpikan with tapuy. 8. The comfort of ritual. 9. Aged etag. 10. Beautiful pottery. 11. Croissants and sour dough bread. 12. The best-tasting ripe tomatoes ever. 13. Wild mushrooms. 14. Wild berries. 15. Wild rides.

We has a new playground! Yesssss! Amateur berm attack.  Pro berm attack. My guardian demonyos get high! Racing to get down before the rain comes in from the neighboring mountain. My Superman after a day in the playground. Even if we've been together for years, I still think he's so handsome!

Every month for about a week or ten days I'm prevented from biking by my female biological... erhm, functions . I used to subscribe to the point of view that having your period shouldn't stop you from doing whatever it is you want but as I've added years to my as yet relatively short life, I've found that it gets harder and harder to push my physical limits when my body's already working overtime dealing with hormones and blood and guts and all that naturally inevitable stuff. Given that pre-menstrual stress and post-menstrual stress are bad enough for us girls and the people around us, can you imagine what it's like for me and the people who must bear with me, not being able to bike only because I have my period? And to have the deprivation compounded by hormonal mood swings? It makes me grumpier than I already am. Oscar the effing Grouch has nothing on me when I'm ride-deprived. It's like the third day after you've quit smoking, when the initi...

 (Photo by Baguio Biker Girl Liza Maraan, Thanks, Liza!) At long last, we got  an all-girls' bike ride going in Baguio! Wheee! This has been my dream for YEARS! We started out in a group of four and struck out for Shilan, which is one of my most-favorite riding routes for its variety of terrain and because it's one of the easiest, least threatening places to hone one's off-road riding skills. Soon there will be more and more women with knobby wheels playing dirty on our mountain roads and trails. Mwahahahaaa! Go grrrls! No doubt the biker boys will be pleased to see more girls out there, but if these strong women were to be any more fond of their bicycles than they already are, I think some men might be worried.

I don't consider myself a biker that races. If I remember correctly I've only ever joined 2 mountain bike races in this life, and my third mtb race was also my first downhill race, thanks to the needling and precise coaching of my brothers Behind Bars (at Aky's bikeshop). It all began with an 'innocent' visit to the tracks skillfully built by Team ULAW in Cruz, La Trinidad. For the boys this was going to be the first of a series of practice visits prior to The Flow DH Party on July 3, 2010 . For me, it was just going to be play... "FLOW" is the purrfect word to describe the tracks at Cruz... (If you see these, "...", it means words have failed me and I've floated off into a biking reverie...). Lovely smooth berms, big jumps (which I skipped of course), tight switchbacks... enough roots to shake you up a bit, no rocky threats, one tricky off-camber slope that was as slippery as a wet bar of soap, and a wonderful wonderful wonderful 2-fo...

I'm back!!! With a vengeance! Rrrawwwrr!

From Eric Caruncho's piece, The Art of the Bicycle, about Ave Medea, who builds one-of-a-kind bespoke frames out of his home workshop. If there's one thing that tree-hugging activists and conspicuous-consuming yuppies agree on, it's that bicycles are cool. Granted, the former ride them instead of SUVs to reduce their carbon footprint, while the latter like to drape them on the roof racks oftheir gas-guzzling Fortuners or Explorers as expensive accessories, oblicious to the irony of driving hundreds of kilomters so they can ride their mountain bikes on a stretch of pristine nature trail.

Get your rickety old bikes out! Dust your frame, pump up your tires, oil your chain, we're going on a ride! Cyclists are taking the city streets again! Anyone who has a bicycle and wants to ride in a pack of fun-loving, easy-going bikers, join the Baguio Centennial Ride on Sunday, September 7. We start at 9a.m. from Convention Center! Every one on a bicycle is welcome! The crazier your costume, the better! Well, actually the organizers would like people to come dressed in their profession's attire but I have a bit of a problem with that. Do anthropologists have a dress code? And if conference clothes are anthro outfits, there's no way I'm going to ride my bike in conference clothes. Ugh. PLEASE WEAR A HELMET WHEN YOU RIDE! And remember, cyclists can have a say on how traffic flows in Baguio, and how Baguio changes in the next one hundred years. (For the better, we hope.) Bring your pedaling power to an advocacy for clean air and better road courtesy between cyclists an...

Yesterday 50+ cyclists aged 8 to 50+ put their lungs on the line and cycled through the constricted, congested, ailing capillaries of the heart of Baguio, through Session Road, Bonifacio, Magsaysay, Harrison Road, U.P., Leonard Wood Road, Gibraltar, Mines View, the Mansion, South Drive, and Burnham Park. Why choose such a painfully polluted route for a Sunday fun ride? Because the Green Riders, an informal group of Baguio cyclists inspired in part by the Tour of the Fireflies , want to project a presence and build a voice that can call more, more, MORE attention to, and demand more, more, MORE action on Baguio's need for clean air, better traffic rules, bike lanes, and courtesy between motorists and cyclists and runners and pedestrians (and horses!). The Green Riders will repeat this fun (but as of yet smokey) ride every first Sunday of the Month. One nice thing about this informal group is that the Green Riders don't see themselves as heroes on mountain bikes or road bikes. Th...

Last year on All Soul’s Day I joined a motley crew (when it comes to mountain biking in groups it’s always a motley crew) of 14 beloved Baguio biker boys on a long ride through beautiful, utterly satisfying trails skirting Mt. Yabnong and Mt. Ugo. I carried a small bundle of flowers strapped to my backpack, along with my water, my home-made oatmeal bars, and my marble potatoes baked with olive oil, butter, rosemary, and smoked pork. After about four hours of biking through wonderful forests on a rough single track trail, we came upon a waiting shed (the only cement structure to be seen in the middle of nowhere!) with a clear view of Ugo. We stopped for lunch and thick, cold fog closed in on us. After eating, I tied the flowers to a post and silently said a prayer to my Lola, telling her how much we miss her, how we try to live up to her. She was no less than Super Woman, after all. When I was done, we continued biking. The fog cleared, and the warmth of the sun on my skin felt like Lo...

Avoid the crowds. Get out of town. Grind some dirt and rocks beneath your wheels. Breathe in some real fresh air. (Now a rarity in Baguio.)

The Champion raced in full battle gear: pancake make-up and jolens-sized pearl earrings. So who says kikays can't kick ass on mountain bikes? She sure did! But does that mean I should start wearing make-up when I ride? Eeeeeewww. I'll leave that to those who can carry... MEEEOWWRRR! Photo by FGSLP. Thanky!

There’s a feeling of freedom that comes with cycling in a big city which is very important, as one can feel trapped by the routine of touring, work, or even travel.... Even if freedom is an illusion the physical sensation of riding does a pretty good job of making it seem attainable for a moment. -- David Byrne David Byrne writes about how things are looking up for commuters on bicycles in New York, having cycled in the city for over 30 years. Oh how I wish the same could be said for Baguio! I vaguely remember some years ago that the city of Baguio was given funds by something like the World Bank or the Asian Development Bank to create bicycle lanes thanks to some visionary council member! Needless to say, the lanes never materialized. And who knows what the visionary council member did with the funds. Lucky David Byrne has cycled "for transport, not sport" in some of the world's greatest and worst cities, including Manila! Risking life and limb on a bicycle is sheer...

I am sick and tired of being bullied by truck drivers, jeepney drivers, taxi drivers, SUV drivers, fancy car drivers, school van drivers, bus drivers, and motorcyclists when I'm on my mountain bike! It takes me about 30 minutes of cycling through fumes and concrete streets to get to a fairly rough road, or a good trail where I know I'll be free from harassment on wheels. In those 30 minutes on the city streets, these are the things that usually happen: I choke in black clouds of diesel fumes, or white clouds of carbon monoxide emitted by vehicles that shift into low gear just to overtake me. I get deafened and startled out of my own skin by a bus blowing its horn behind me. I get cat calls and whistles and lewd remarks, and no, I don't find the attention flattering. If a biker boy tells me I ride well, that's flattering. I get forced into the gutter or unto the sidewalk by a driver that brings his vehicle alongside me, slows down, and turns ever so slightly ...

Number One Biker Boy admonishes me to love my bike like I love myself, which I try to do. (With some difficulty. Sometimes I just loathe myself). I keep coming back for more. I don't know why we so easily lapse into cliches when talking about love, but one really must ride one's bike like an extension of one's self. The riding mantra* is: My bike completes me. So. Love me, love my bike. *There is another riding mantra, for those who have reached a higher level of union with their bikes, which is achievable only in Sagada.