Cycle Cross Breeding - published in Southern Bicycle League magazine

In September at the Six Gaps ride, I stood on the Dahlonega Square as the teenage Cad cyclists whirled around the course like boomerangs. It was a spectacular site. Vendors, speakers, music, competition, camaraderie, spectators and cyclists of all ages.

As stood on The Square with my toy poodle taking in the buzz of thousands of people, a woman with a heavy Celtic brogue leaned over my shoulder and asked,

     “What's your poodle's name? She looks just like mine.”

     “Coco”. I turned to let her pet the poodle. “Where are you from?” I inquired.

     “Scotland.”

     “What a coincidence.”, I replied. “My last name is Scottish. It's Cadenhead – Head of the Caden River.”

     “Cadenhead”?, she gasped “That's my last name!”

As you might guess, Cadenhead is an unusual name. I've taken to spelling it every time I say it because very few people know to pronounce the “C” as a “K” and the “a” as a long vowel rather than a short vowel as is phonetically correct.

You may also imagine my astonishment and disbelief when the Scottish poodle lover stared me in the eye and said,

     “That's my last name.”

     “What?” I stammered.

     “Yes”, she continued. “That's my last name. Cadenhead spelled C A D E N H E A D”.

I searched her eyes for truth.

     “I'm here from Scotland with other Cadenheads.”

Well, to make a strange and coincidental story short, we traded numbers and planned a North American and European Cadenhead dinner before they left the country, but here's the best part. Her niece's son was competing in the Junior Cad races at the 6 Gap ride. The two families shared a last name and a cross oceanic love of cycling.

The state championship cyclo-cross race was the next Cadenhead meeting. Truthfully, I wouldn't have attended this race had it not been for the Cadenhead connection. As soon as I got to the event, I ran into Miriam Voss who had traveled from Georgia to Vermont with me, the poodle, and a large group of cycling friends. She was racing at the state championship, and I was toting the poodle once again.

The cyclo cross wound through pine trees, up and down hills and mounds, through a sandy beach, and over short walls . “Cycling dressage” is what I called it. The air was filled with anticipation and friendly competition. Babies pedaled around on tricycles while competitors hummed along on their trainers. Dogs lapped up attention while riders spanned the Yargo State Park property.

Is this a great sport or what? Bicycles can go most any where. They can bring together the thirsty athlete and the poodle-loving Sunday-cyclist. Kids can be integrated into the sport, competitors can hammer it out while seniors stay active and healthy. Cycling combats depression, weight gain, and illness. Better yet, it offers a community of active outdoor-loving people.

My Scottish Cadenhead connection, Alexander Dijkema, rode like a champ at the Cyclo Cross State Championship. I'm not sure how well he did, and he didn't seem to care. He was much more concerned with his cycling friends. Miriam Voss placed 6th in the women's race “B” race. Not bad for her first year of Cyclo Cross racing.

You might ask me, “Why don't you leash up the poodle and start riding?” I ride but I also enjoy the sport as a spectator. I know I'll last longer that way. Plus, I might meet some more Cadenheads. I”m not sure the world needs more of us, but it's nice to know we're not alone and we're sharing the sport.

The Killing Fields - Published in Style Weekly - 1989

As ironic as it may seem, the last two weeks of March ushered in April, Child Abuse Prevention Month, with the deaths of five children in the Tidewater area. All five children died because of abuse or neglect by their parents. One of the five dead children was a 3 year old boy who was beaten and stuffed into a tool box and later found in a swampy bed. Another three year old boy set the fire that burned him to death as his mother sat near by under the influence of illegal drugs. Two other children, ages five and six, burned to death when the efficiency they were left into watch their younger sibling caught on fire. The last of the five tragic deaths during this two week holocaust was a five year old girl who allegedly tried to kill her mother with a butter knife and received a fatal blow to her head during the attack.

Many residents and professionals in the Tidewater area are sharing the grief of these untimely deaths by joining the grandmother of the little boy found in the tool box and placing a blue ribbon on their cars in memory of him. It is not uncommon to see many ribbons at any given time, because these deaths have touched many people in the community, including law enforcement officers, human service professionals and local residents.

Tragically, the community and country rally around the deaths of these five children or ones like Lisa Steinberg in New York, but their outcries do not bring back the lives of the children. Those of us in child abuse related fields will reluctantly add those five names to the list of 1,200 who die every year due to abuse or neglect, and we will be reminded that those five dead children are only representative of the one million who are abused every year. The professional community will also remember that these statistics do not include the children whose bodies cannot provide enough physical evidence to prove the abuse they describe, or the children whose stories remain hidden within the fortress of family secrets. The statistics do not include preteens or teens who run away or who or thrown away from their broken homes. The professionals also remember that the statistics do not include children who take their own lives or choose to die a slow death from alcohol/drug abuse or violent encounters with gangs, weapons, or automobiles.

Saddest of all, the statistics and the five children of the Tidewater area do not accurately represent the many parents who struggle daily with the limited resources available to help them to meet the challenges of parenting. Research indicates that most parents who abuse their children want very much to be good parents but struggle with one of the following categories:
* A lack of adequate parenting knowledge.
* Social isolation with no close family or friends to offer help and emotional support.
* Unmet emotional needs and expectations of their children to provide love, understanding and self esteem.
* A drug/alcohol problem of one or both parents which severely affects parenting skills.
* A parent or both parents, abused themselves as children, setting up the vicious cycle of abuse.
* A crisis or series of crises such as martial or financial problems, illness,etc., producing tension in the home.

Some parents can relate to the feeling of being isolated from the emotional support they need while under stress. Some can relate to the feeling of being out of control with their own anger and just not sure what to do with the children they are rearing. Others can also relate to the feeling of regret felt over the discipline they administered a bit too harshly at the end of a bad day, or the abusive language they used to redirect a child's attention, or even ignoring the child's needs to suit their own. Still others recognize that they received more instruction on how to operate their microwave oven than they did on parenting, and most parents could probably identify at least one time when they needed help or support with their parenting.

Abusive parents on the other hand, find themselves in a pattern or cycle of abuse that takes intervention and regular support to break. It can be a painful process but one with many benefits and far-reaching effects, because studies conclude that parents abused as children are six times more likely to abuse their own children. We also know that at least 80 percent of all prisoners experienced some child abuse, at least 60 percent of all prostitutes experienced some form of child sexual abuse; and 60 percent of our country's runaways come from highly dysfunctional families.
For professionals in the field and citizens throughout the country, April is a month designated to support and celebrate nurturing families, promote positive parenting and publicize parent support services. It is recognized in Virginia by people like Governor Baliles who dedicated the month to awareness, and singer/song writer Bruce Hornsby who actively participates as the Honorary Chairman for Child Abuse Prevention Month.
But obviously our society needs to do more than rally over children who die anuntimely death. We must promote events that remind us of our families. We must look at the perception we have of children and the priority we place on their safety and nurture. We need to look deep within ourselves and ask questions about our won parenting and our willingness to learn more about our children's personal feelings, as well as their developmental stages. We need to realize the shortcomings we have as parents and make improvements to strengthen ourselves as models for our children.
Most of all, our society must open a dialogue about these issues so parents like the one in the Tidewater area can easily obtain the support they need and find their parenting a creative opportunity rather than a painful battleground. Our society must dedicate itself to a social change in attitudes and perceptions
of its children and their needs. Hopefully then we will be a country that offers a sanctuary to children and treasures them above all our other resources and priorities. Hopefully then we will end the unnecessary deaths of children's minds and bodies.

Cheaters Never Win, but They Can Be First - Published in Southern Bicycle League Magazine 2010

“I'm a cheater, but not a liar.”I heard myself say a zillion times on the Bon Ton Roulett a 350 mile group bicycle ride. This was in response to the 40 questions a day my husband and I received from gaulkers of the electric motor silhouetted in the front hub of my bike wheel. Inevitably after all the inquiries about how it works, how much it weighs, how fast it goes, I was asked, “Do you feel like your cheating?”

Was I cheating? The BonTon Roulette is a heavenly ride through the Finger Lakes area of New York. The ride is carefully planned around the most scenic vistas of the lakes and their laterally-running ridges. Unfortunately, many of the ridges must be conquered by riding the steep inclines that run east to west.. The climbs matched those of the 3 Gaps in North Georgia and Presidential Mountains of the Columbia River Gorge. So was I cheating as I hummed up the mountainous climbs on my E-Bike? Once, in a verbal sparring match with a gentleman older than myself, I answered with some inflection, “I've climbed the Grand Canyon, completed an Outward Bound solo, ridden parts of the Tour de Georgia course, and raised a special needs child by myself all before the age of 50. I deserve a motor and a motorcade, if I choose.” He didn't have much to spar with after that.

Many times I tried to explain why I got the motor installed mere days before the Bon Ton trip. Two years earlier, I had fallen down the front steps of my house with a beloved, elderly dog in my arms. To avoid falling on top of her, I contorted hips, knees and feet to unnatural angles. The dog lived many years after the fall while I received loads of physical therapy. My Achilles and hip recovered with time, but my knee still pained me. Any torque beyond a casual spin of the bicycle crank set caused the tibia and fibula to pull away from each other. So if I wanted to go on the trip and hope to experience any of the vistas from outside a SAG vehicle, I had to ----- CHEAT.

The E-Bike version of the electric bike is sleek and unrecognizable to the untrained eye. The motor silhouettes the front hub like a pancake. Other riders kept mistaking it for a generator. The nickel-ion battery sits on a double-decker panier rack so it can be camouflaged by rear trunks or cargo. The wire from the throttle or crank set to the battery is zipped tied to the frame. I owned up to the machine every time I was questioned. “Would I be drug tested too.” But remember, I am a cheater but not a liar.

On one several mile climb, a woman, who kept a strong pace, commented on my climbing ability. I told her I had a motor in the front. She thought I was joking. I repeated myself, “There's a motor on my bike.”, and I pointed to the front hub. She laughed again and complimented my climb. I juiced the throttle to show her the power. She never heard the motor nor recognized its components. I simply hummed on ahead of her taking pride in the streamline appearance of my stealth 50 pound bike.

At the ridge of one climb, I met a “hammerhead” friend who remained in disbelief about the motor and its abilities. At the crest of the climb, he caught the tail of my draft and rode a smooth 15 + miles per hour down the course. I've never ridden any distance with him in the past. He may not be able to keep up with me in the future.

During one conversation about the bike, a man inquired for his wife's sake. She had been talking to him about the idea of a motorized bike so she could keep up with him during bike rides. He scoffed at the idea until he witnessed the following event on my E-Bike. His hammerhead friend proceeded ahead of me. The friend had a steady clip on a long, windy, incline. When I perceived his competitive spirit, I hummed up behind him. I overtook him and moved well into the lead. I happened to be wearing the “polka dot jersey” - the signature of the King of the mountains on the Tour de France. As I hummed by I commented, “ I won't be giving up the jersey at the end of the day.” His body tensed and his tempo went up a notch. As I glided by, he came out of the saddle and dug deep. He held my wheel for the half mile climb and at the crest he nearly caught me, but with one quick thrust of the throttle, I won. He too missed the tell-tale signs of motor and I had to explain my speed. I think he was proud of himself for holding a close second to an electric motor. His riding buddy swore he'd get one for his wife so they could ride together again.

The interest in the E-Bike motor on my TREK 520 persisted throughout the entire trip. Many shook their heads in disdain. Many swore they'd buy one as soon as they got home. I never imagined the motor would cause such a stir, but either way, I enjoyed the Bon Ton without stressing my leg. 

Am I a cheater? Maybe so, but I'm not a liar and I'm still riding.