Spinning things

I spin things.

I spin pedals for enjoyment and transportation; early morning bicycle rides are beautiful, with cool air, warm sun just rising, and less traffic than there will be later. I spin the pedals fast, too. The number of times in a minute you spin pedals is called cadence. It's generally agreed that a cadence of less than 80 isn't very efficient for cycling (at least it was 25 years ago). I try for a cadence of 104 when I can, so I don't have to push as hard on the pedals. That's quicker than most would spin their pedals, but the kilometres do fly by when things are going well.

Two years ago I hired a fibre artist to teach some friends of mine, and my beloved wife and me, how to spin yarn using a drop spindle. (I guess that was a Wild Weekend too!) Medieval textiles were created mostly from fibre made with drop spindles. The sails on those gorgeous Viking boats? All of them were made of linen, and all those thousands of kilometres(!) of linen thread were spun on drop spindles, woven on warp-weighted looms, and sewn together. But labour was cheaper back then.

My beloved spins much better than I; she's working on some Merino wool that is going to make something wonderful. We don't know what, yet, but it will be special. Spinning is one of the things we do to fit into the medieval atmosphere of the Society for Creative Anachronism.

For Beth McClung's Wild Weekend last month, I learned to spin Poi. No, no, not the Polynesian staple food. Poi is balls spun on cord or chains. If you're adventurous, you could spin pots of fire. I'm not that stup - er, adventurous. And it's not what I'd consider a safe risk. So my poi is tennis balls in nylon covers on strings. Flashy, but relatively safe. There are LED versions to flash or glow for night-time use, which are much safer than real fire.

My adventure for today was to teach a young friend how to spin my poi balls. She has swung swords around, so this wasn't a big leap for her. It was a little thing, perhaps, but it helped to pay forward the enjoyment of Beth's challenge. And since we did this lesson at the local SCA fight practice, I also got to watch over five people in armour swinging blunt objects at each other, which is part of my duties as a volunteer first aider, or chirurgeon, in the SCA. Nobody needed first aid, which is good, and my young friend got to spin with me, which is better. Small things, perhaps, but the world is made of small things, which put together add up to big things.

So there's lots of spinning in my life; pedals, yarn, balls: it's all good.