Last week I spent my mornings mentoring a group of girls between the ages of 8 and 11 at Little Bellas, a mountain bike camp for girls which took place at Lake Nockamixon. It was by far, the coolest thing I've done all summer. Little Bellas was started by Lea and Sabra Davison, two sisters from Vermont who fell in love with cycling at a young age and fellow cycling enthusiast, Angela Irvine. The program was created to "help young women realize their potential through cycling", something that I've experienced this past year and half since I started riding bikes. I got involved because I wanted to be a part of that journey for other girls. 

We spent the week riding the trails at Nox working on becoming more confident riders, supporting each other through teamwork and encouragement, and creating friendships that will hopefully last a long time. We played games and ate snacks. We sang songs and learned the different parts of our bikes. The entire week I woke up excited for camp. I woke up excited that I got to ride my bike with other girls who were psyched on bikes.

These young women had varying levels of abilities. The first day I was placed with three of the younger girls, the girls who were a little more nervous about riding trails, the girls that reminded me of myself. Over the course of five days I watched those three girls improve more than I could have ever imagined. A girl who was afraid to ride across a creek crossing on day one was riding log-overs by day five. A girl who was falling off her bike every twenty feet on day one was leading a large group ride on day five. A girl who stopped to walk across any section of trail that wasn't flat on day one was riding across a wooden bridge on day five. It was incredible to witness, to be a part of. To watch the confidence of these young ladies grow as they became more comfortable on their bikes and with each other made waking up before the sun totally worth it.  

Programs like Little Bellas are so important to help young girls see that they are capable of incredible things, things that they may be hesistant to try simply out of fear or self-doubt. To work with these girls in a constructive environment and see them achieve goals they set each morning was a gift. I hope to continue being involved in the Little Bellas program and hope you'll consider it too. Be prepared to spend an entire week being totally stoked! (Also, I may have got teary eyed more than once.) Thanks to Lisa at Cutters in Bethlehem for making camp happen and thank you to the fine folks at Fitness Central Bike Shop in Schnecksville for hooking me up with a sick bike for the week so I could keep up with these little rippers. The bike community in the Lehigh Valley & Upper Bucks has proven to be some of the best people.

Before I start this blog post I just want you to know I wrote something really smart, totally witty & then somehow managed to delete it before saving any of it & that honestly sums up everything I was trying to say here.

The covered bridge by my house is named "Moods". Nothing has ever made more sense. Originally built in 1874, Moods was destroyed in 2004 by an act of arson after being hit by a truck twice, once in 1993 & again a few months before the fire. It took three years for it to be rebuilt & reopened to the public with a piece of the original truss built into the new bridge. Now it's one of the most used covered bridges in the county. I've never related to anything as much as I do this bridge. Stay with me...

In the years since I got sober I've had more bad days then I would like to count. But I can remember them because I wasn't just reaching for a bottle when shit got tough. Like my bad days aren't triggers for booze anymore or they are but I know how to get through it. My bad days are bad days like regular people have but unlike people who aren't in recovery, a bad day is always a test of my willpower. So, I do just that, power through them. Even when a bad day lingers on for days at a time.

Today is one of those days. Today has me silently melting into a pile of self-pity, a pity party for one. But as I slowly melt I also decide to do something about it that is productive, like write this. I also reach for my recovery app to read inspiring stories of other's abilities to carry on. I am gripping my phone tight as I text the people in my life who love me the most, who will tell me I am the shining gemstone I know I am on days when I'm not confusing myself for a pile of trash. 

I know I have worth & purpose but today is one of those days where I can't seem to pinpoint either & therefore they must not exist. I am MOODS. I am sad & overwhelmed, confused & stressed out. I am unsure of everything in my life but I know I'm ready to make BIG CHANGES. I am ready to rebuild. But I'm also a total chicken shit & I am deathly afraid of making the mistakes that got me to the place I was before I quit boozing. I don't want to ruin the perceived successful life I have crafted, the life that is ok when I'm not MOODS. But those days where things seem ok are becoming increasingly further & further apart. My complaints aren't life threatening. I know there is war & hunger & fucked up things happening in the world. My problems are trivial in comparison but they are still MY PROBLEMS. So I try to keep perspective & remember that bad days happen & they don't have to be the end of the world or the end of my recovery. I can be MOODS without burning it all down. 

Like most people who grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia, I spent my entire childhood going down the shore (that means traveling to the beach, for those of you who aren't from the suburbs of Philadelphia). Going down the shore was basically the extent of vacationing for our family, my entire childhood. Once, when my siblings were all really young (Veronica wasn't even born yet) my stepdad piled us all into his Monte Carlo & we drove to Disneyworld for a week. That was a big deal. However, the shore is still the highlight of my childhood, those trips being something we try & recreate in our adulthood. This past Saturday I somehow managed to have the day off from work so I convinced my midwest-grown boyfriend to go down the shore! 

It's about a 2 hour drive to Seaside Heights from my house. We didn't leave until the afternoon. It was a spontaneous trip, the very best kind. The drive was uneventful. We spent most of it just talking, at one point my boyfriend declared how stoked he was on life. How everything just seemed really good & now he was on his way to spend the day just relaxing. Around 3pm we pulled onto the bridge that goes over the bay to Seaside Heights. I texted my sister Jennifer & told her to tell Lily, my 5 year old niece who was not-so-patiently waiting for our arrival, that we would be there in 15minutes.

An hour later I had to text my sister to tell her the bridge was broken, we were stuck (see that grey dot up there, that was us) & that we hadn't moved since the first time I texted her. This is probably where I should tell you that, although I'm pretty tough & not afraid of much, I am afraid of one thing & that is bridges. Like, deathly afraid. Like, close my eyes & hold my breath when we cross one afraid. Like, as a child, Jennifer & I visited my dad while he was living in London & during a double decker bus tour of the city we crossed Tower Bridge & they jokingly sang "London Bridge is Falling Down" & I, not-so-jokingly had a panic attack. I am totally afraid of bridges & here we were, well into an hour of my biggest nightmare come true. As people began to get out of their cars & things started to fell very "Walking Dead" to me, we got word that the locking mechanism on the bridge wasn't working and they couldn't cross the drawbridge fully to allow us to cross. Instead, the police would have us all turn around and drive back off the bridge. Once we got off the bridge we would drive up to the next one, cross, and drive down to Seaside Heights. The GPS said it would take us about an hour to travel what should have taken 15 minutes & had already been an hour and a half.

Three & a half hours later we finally arrived in Seaside Heights. My relationship wasn't as strong as when we had left the house & the beach, the one thing I was looking the most forward to, was close. But Lily, my sweet sweet Lily, was over the moon excited that we were there.  

The beach was closed but there was still a pool, so we decided to have a pool party & a party it was. My family had been down there for a week by this point & Lily had been working on her surfing skills in the pool on a boogie board. She was totally hyped to show us & we were totally hyped to not be sitting in traffic anymore. After the pool we got changed & headed to the boardwalk, the most magical of kitschy kingdoms. We rode the carousel, played skeeball, took photobooth pictures & attempted to win a giant unicorn for Lily (& failed over & over, so if anyone can get that giant plush unicorn from Despicable Me, I'm willing to pay big bucks for it. I'm so serious).

Side Note: the summer of 1996 I ran away from home. I packed a bag & took the train to Atlantic City & then caught a bus to Ocean City. I slept under the boardwalk under Jilly's arcade, spare changed for money to eat, made out with towny boys. I was a summer squatter & it was the best summer of my life. Some of the friendships I made that summer were with people I'm still friends with, twenty years later. I have an emotional connection to the shore that consumes my heart the minute I smell the sea air. Even now, almost a week after we went to Seaside Heights my sunburn is peeling & I'm itchy as hell but I still hold every minute we were down there in my heart like a horcrux. A little piece of me stays down the shore withe every visit, ya know? 

Anyway, my boyfriend being from the midwest, doesn't have an emotional connection to the shore the way I do. He doesn't see the bright lights shine the way I can. The people shouting at him from the games are alarming, not at all charming. It's loud & crowded & the whole thing is just overwhelming & anxiety inducing for him. So, even though it's none of those things to me & I could walk it back & forth forever, we called it a night & headed back to the house because he deserved that relaxation he had been dreaming about the entire six hour drive & he wasn't going to get that on the boardwalk. 

The next morning my family packed up & left Seaside Heights. It was raining as we walked to our car but by the time we got to a bagel shop (the only vegan option we could find in Seaside) the rain had stopped & there was no more in the forecast. We decided to spend the day down the shore, Brian insisting that it was the right thing to do, possibly feeling a bit guilty about the night before. I was psyched! We headed back to the boardwalk,watched a pole vaulting competition on the beach for a little while & then changed into our bathing suits (mine, a two piece from Mod Cloth covered in am all-over banana print). As we laid on the beach in the sun with the waves crashing on the shore I felt more calm & content then I had in so long. It hits me every time I'm down the shore: it is my HAPPY PLACE. My anxiety is non-existent there. I don't stress about work or bills or anything. If only funnel cake was vegan, then I would officially be the happiest girl ever.