Venturesome Minority

XTERRA Snow Valley

2011-08-08T21:57:00.005-07:00

Last Sunday, I traveled to Snow Valley, aka "Big Bear," California. Big Bear is home to some pretty nifty ski (I mean snowboard) slopes, a lake big enough for fleet of motorboats and a wakeboarding zip line, a few thousand feet of elevation, and some sick mountain bike trails (I've heard. In reality, I've experienced a few sections of sweet single track during a RimNordic XC race, but that was well over a year ago.). It is also the site of my very first XTERRA race- one year ago. At that time, I had been swimming for a couple of months, riding pretty well, and running not at all. I had a pretty good race and ended up in 2nd overall, after being passed on the run. Being my first event of this type, I had no idea what was going on and was thoroughly stoked to finish the event at all- mostly because I didn't drown during the swim. I came out of the water near the back of the pack and got to pass a bunch of people on the bike, inflating my tender little ego to the point of popping, before I got demolished on the run. I actually was just juiced on the energy of a different kind of challenge and was thrilled with a 2nd place finish.

This year I felt really flat going into Snow Valley. I've been swimming for well over a year, riding alright, and running only marginally more than last year at this time. You could say I was rested and "fresh" for this race. Or you could say I've been a slacker. I'm tending toward the latter. I'm learning that in order to effectively train, I require a pretty strict schedule. I thought my free-spirited nature would lend toward the opposite, but the problem lies in a little case of attention deficit.....I realized this the other day when I had five different projects going on throughout the rooms of my house- and was totally absorbed in starting a new one in the backyard when I walked inside to get some juice. I saw the juicer in pieces on the counter with 2 cooking projects I had started and abandoned. Then I walked into the bathroom and found it half-cleaned with cleaning supplies spread across the counter. I had stepped over a 3X3 foot pile of random crap in the doorway that I was organizing into some project or another, and was trying to ignore the window/WD-40/clothing projects in the bedroom. Yikes. How many hours had gone by since I started these messes....and I was supposed to be getting ready for a bike ride!! This, I'm learning, is what happens when I don't have a schedule for my training and my day.

My lack of focus was probably the reason I felt like a limp noodle going into the race. I had gone for a couple of rides during the week and could barely get my legs to agree with me. My right arm was super sore from swimming hard the week before and I felt undertrained with my running. My goal for the race, far from wanting to dominate, was to stay as steady as I could- and try to keep myself from getting competitive about it. You know, race my own race kind of thing......right.

I was super stoked when my plan backfired. Or worked, depending on how you look at it. The swim was a mass start- guys and gals. I was nervous about the kicks and punches that usually accompany so many swimmers going off at one time. I started near the back so as to avoid as much of this as I could. Fortunately, I was able to swim the 1000 yards with minimal bumping and no injury and came out of the water 2nd (ladies). That put a huge grin on my face. The bike portion was where I went flat. My legs still were not cooperating with me, so I just went steady (snail's pace, really) on the climbs and tried to make up time on the descents. No one passed me on the bike, and surprisingly, I had more energy on the run than before. Sweet! Backing off on the bike was a great, uh...."strategy." I passed by the gal who had beat me last year going the other way on the out-and-back portion of the run. She was clocking away and, with a mile and a half to go, I thought she had a good chance to catch me. Time for a little pep talk. I told myself under no circumstances was I allowed to walk, and in fact, it was time to pick up the pace a bit. I came in 2 minutes ahead of her and was super surprised to hear I was the first woman overall!!

I'm still waiting on pics from the event photographer......The event itself was super well organized and a ton of fun. Sweet course, great people, good food, well-organized...even the handmade awards were some of the sickest I've seen (pic to come). Definitely a race for the books.

Pacific Championships

2011-05-16T16:21:00.039-07:00

I've been trying the XTERRA thing for a few go-rounds recently. Learning to swim has been no small feat, but finally I feel like I've got a little grasp on it and have been cranking out consistent times in the pool. It has certainly taken a toll. I can wake up at 5:00 and get my funky self to the pool before work, or get a good workout in before a ride on my off days...but how people actually train well for three sports and work full-time........let's just say running has fallen short lately. My plan for the Pacific Championships was to pull a decent swim, blaze it on the bike, and suffer through the run. Sorry, suffer fast through the run. At least, suffer fast enough to get first or second in my age group, and somewhere in the top 3 overall. It was a great, great idea, but I forgot the part about training to run if you want to run.....fast. Whoops.

I took Friday off from work and Benji and I headed north. First stop after crawling through HelLA was San Luis Obispo, where I was hoping to get some help from the Fuzzy teammate. I had picked up my bike, (the new lightening cruise vessel) from the bike shop without realizing that the tiny bits and pieces we had been missing meant my bike was still far, far from ready to ride. Awesome, another whoops! I proceeded to feed Fuzzy beer and watch him work some magic, weaving shifter cables through my carbon frame and checking derailleur tension. There's something highly ungenious (note, not ingenious) about a last minute bike build two days before the race. It's so not recommended, yet, somehow I always find myself doing just that!!

I planned to pre-ride the new bling on Saturday while checking out the bike course. I figured it would be perfect for working out any kinks.

Oh the best laid plans, the best laid plans.... (maybe it's the whole reason I avoid them so) The drive up to Santa Cruz ended at Wilder Ranch State Park, where the 2nd transition and race finish were set up. Five miles down the coast, the swim and transition to bike were waiting for race day set-up. XTERRA races are so much more complicated than a good ole mountain bike race. 3x the gear and the prep and the training and the blah, blah, blah, why am I doing this??? I suppose it looked like an interesting race course. The 1-mile ocean swim would be followed by a short, but supposedly fun 20-mile mountain bike course which would be followed by a 6-mile coastal jog along the beach (see where my brain was at? I said "jog"). I was certain my lack of running was going to hurt, but was hoping the flatland would work in my favor.

We parked Benji's Nissan on the coast highway, thinking the $10 day-use fee was a bit steep for packet pick-up and pre-ride. We got the bikes out, loaded our pockets with wallets and cell phones, and rode into the venue to get our free t-shirt and coupon bag. While picking up our number plates and learning about the race course, we got distracted by the pre-race meeting. An hour passed and we decided we needed to get back to the car and gear up for our pre-ride. We approached the car with our weekend hosts (they had ridden road bikes to the venue), chatted with them for a few minutes and bid adieu as we turned to the vehicle. As soon as Benji opened the rear hatch, we knew something was wrong. My bike kit and towel were strewn across the back with a handful of other items. It took a few seconds to register, but we both realized at once that the side window had been broken and the car broken into. Benji's race bag with his wetsuit, race kit, bike and running shoes was gone along with my purse, courier/clothes bag and laptop. The GPS that had been in the window was missing as well, and I thought what a fool I had been to forget to take it down. I started crying because I knew instantly that I had not backed up my computer in some time and there was a slew of pictures, poems/writing and music that would be impossible to retrieve. What a knuckle head. Benji's race gear, wetsuit and my laptop were the greatest insults materially, but the invasion went well beneath the surface of what was taken and all the anticipation of doing a race went with it.

The next few hours were spent talking with the policeman assigned to our case (an angel no doubt) and trying to get our heads around what to do next. I really wanted to skip the race and set up a stake-out for the thieves. I thought they would come back the next day, tempted by all of the geeky triathletes and their posh gear bags. But I realized the stupidity of my plan and decided not racing would be Letting The Bad Guys Win. Plus, with my current luck, I would heroically jump out of the bushes to do something savvy like take video of the burglars on my cell phone and end up getting my ass kicked. That was one sure way to make the weekend even worse. Sigh, it was on to plan B (formerly known as plan A)- racing.

Fortunately, the bikes were in working order, so the option of racing was still viable, but we had some items to replace. As little as we felt like shopping, it was the next step, so hi ho, hi ho, off to the bike shop we go. We spent the afternoon borrowing and gathering the remaining pieces we needed to race, trying to get some food and relax. I ended up spending the afternoon insanely hungry. Eating just wasn't working into the schedule....you know, 11:30-get broken into, 12:00-2:30- hang out with cops, 2:30-5-quickly spend a few hundred dollars on mediocre replacement gear, 6 or so- get to our friends house, set-up bikes and number plates and new gear...and, oh yeah, eat dinner (thanks for cooking Polly!!!). At some point we were finally heads down, eyes shut, getting some sleep, grateful that we live in a country (and a part of this country) where this kind of thing doesn't happen everyday....or worse.

Woke up Sunday morning to 43 degrees and rain. Too drained from the day before to be nervous, the idea that I was racing finally started to sink in as I waited for the swim to go off. I stood on the beach with a couple hundred other humans in seal suits and stupid looking colored caps. I jumped in the ocean to get as "warmed up" as one can in 57 degrees and got raked down by the first wave I ran into. It knocked me down on my back with my feet straight in the air and sand swirling around my head. Nothing like a solid rookie move to get the morning going. I smiled big and dug the sand out of my ears.

The swim was surprisingly fun. I had to get well past the break before I could keep my head in the water without my breathing reflex kicking in. Once my face adjusted to the cold I melted into a nice rhythm and was pleased to discover that I mostly swam in straight lines and covered the mile distance without breaking my aerobic gate.

I came out of the water in 6th place and fumbled my way through the transition. My fine motor skills were zappo with my body heat and my fingers stumbled clumsily across my jersey zipper, helmet and shoe buckles. Finally I boarded my never been riden white Niner and headed off for my favorite part of this silly XTERRA thing.

The mountain bike course was just as I like it. Plenty of climbing and fun singletrack descents, with enough technical aspects to keep it interesting. It could have been twice as long and I would have been stoked. But it was long enough to let me pull into the lead and get a little gap on the other women. I made it through the bike-to-run transition smoothly and headed out in first place. Stoked. Now I just had to hold onto my momentum and not lose too much time.

I started trotting along the coast and within a single minute felt the first twinges of cramping down my inner quad muscles. I cringed with concern and tried to convince myself it would soon pass....deep breaths, deep breaths. Five minutes later both legs were entirely consumed with spasms and it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. This is where I usually give up and start walking. I am a mountain biker at heart, not a triathlete. That means I like my races to have a strong element of FUN in them and full-on leg cramps don't make me think, "Fun!" This time though, I wouldn't let myself give in to the pain- I knew that if I started walking, I probably wouldn't start running again. Plus I really wanted some beer. And salty chips. Walking would really extend the time between now and beer+chips.

About 2 or 3 miles into the run, 1st-place-woman-to-be passed me- and she was jamming! Damn runners, I thought. She was followed by 2nd and 3rd in short order. Then there was a nice lull where I thought I might be able to hold on to some semblance of dignity. I even tried to run faster....which lasted about 15 seconds til the cramps returned. Then, somewhere between miles four and five, 4th and 5th place came by all at once. Finally, in the last half-mile, I was passed one more time, sealing my 7th place finish. I limped through the finish line, hurting. I could barely make it to the car, let alone to the beer! Yikes.

I would say I was embarrassed, but my training regime had been to dumb for me to allow myself any embarrassment. I just felt like a pathetic, slow, mountain biker, who thought she could do a triathlon and found out it wasn't a joke when they said "tri" means "three." It also means "do all three well."

In the couple of weeks since, I have found this (surprising?) motivation to run. I've been finding meditation in the leg pounding and gasping for breath (still talking about running). The last 2 Fridays I've enjoyed a steady 8 mile "base" run resulting in decent legs the next day and am trying some track running. I suppose the long and short of it is: I'm not much of a runner. Edit: I'm not much of a fan of running. I can pull some fast times and distance when I put myself into it. I guess there's only that many hours a day I want to spend hurting myself. Blah, blah, blah.....

I'm signed up for another one of these stupid things in a week. My goal for this one: no goal. Finish, finish, finish. And finish with enough leg strength to get to the beer tent, no cramps. I guess I'd like to have fun on the trails in RVA too, and hanging out with my teammate, Donna. Then get back to some straight up mountain bike races. That is, unless I qualify for National Championships.

The Cove

2011-01-06T23:51:00.002-08:00

If you care, it will make you care more. If you don't care, you will start.

http://www.opsociety.org/

2010-12-19T20:44:00.001-08:00

Let your love be like the misty rains, coming softly, but flooding the river.

-Malagasy Proverb

Coast Ride

2010-04-18T16:30:00.003-07:00

Began like this:

Views from the backyard

Going through the military base, Camp Pendleton, with the ocean on the left and the mountains on the right:

2010-04-09T17:40:00.001-07:00

FLIP TURNS!!!

Swimming

2010-03-26T17:27:00.007-07:00

5:30 in the morning has been my wake-up call. Starting a new job, commuting, training, and trying to balance it all has been interesting, challenging, sometimes overwhelming, and wholly amazing. The hardest part is sleep. I hate being exhausted- at work, on the bike, or anytime, really. But getting enough rest to compensate for the emotional, mental and physical taxes can be a job in and of itself. This sometimes means I get to bed at a reasonable hour, reasonable now meaning 8 or 9. It also means that when I have a day "off," I usually try to sleep in, but that now means I'm up by 7. It also means that if I want to take up a new sport, like say...swimming, I have to get up even earlier, at say, 4:30.

That has been the case for the last couple of weeks. On most Tuesdays and Fridays I'm up at this ungodly hour, dragging myself and Benji to the pool and shivering as I tiptoe across the cold concrete in less clothing than I wear to the beach. The pool is heated... so they say, but my sleeping body feels no more warmth coming from the water than from glacial drip.

When I started this endeavor, I could claim that I'd been swimming (and by swimming I mean laps in a pool, not learning the basics in swim class when you're a kid) a few times. I tried twice to pick it up and found it nearly impossible. My legs sink, my body sinks, my breathing is all messed up, I get scared and think I'm going to drown, I can't figure out how in God's name you can work out and not just breath however you want to; I swim a maximum,.....maximum..... of 3 lengths (that's a "75" for all you non-swimmers like me), and have to stop for a break. Meanwhile, all sorts of folks are effortlessly gliding back and forth in the lanes beside me, gently turning over their stroke like beautiful windmills breaking the water. It is hypnotic, I am entranced, and I am amazed at how difficult it is. On some level, I fancy myself a bit of an athlete, or at least an athletic type, yet swimming I simply cannot do.

One of two things happens when I can't do something: I give up or I try harder. I guess those are the two options one would have. With swimming, I tried harder, quit, tried hard, quit, tried really hard, then quit and then came to all kinds of conclusions about my swimming abilities (non of them good). But, determined to learn, having been told that swimming is quit technical (requiring proper instruction).........and fully enamored with one of the best swimmers in San Diego..........we went to the pool a couple of weeks ago, and under his strict supervision, I flapped across the pool a couple of times and hoped for the best.

I stopped after 1/2 lap (yes, one-half lap!!) and noticed Benji-the-best-swimmer-in-the-world was ready to give me some feedback. Sweet, I thought, I can catch my breath and maybe I won't ever have to show him how far I can't swim. To my complete and total surprise, he did not tell me I should hang up my goggles and move on. Instead he gave me some really awesome tips.....Keep my body more horizontal and streamlined- put my head down a bit, float my hips, stretch my front arm forward like I'm reaching for something. It was a lot to think about and I couldn't do it all at one time, but somehow it still made sense.

I started doing single lengths (yes, half-laps) and thinking about one tip each time, focusing on a different aspect of the stroke or my body position. Then I noticed I was getting to the wall faster and with enough energy to keep going, so I extended my swim to a complete lap before a break. I couldn't believe I was actually feeling good in the water, but was amazed that with all the effort I was putting out, I still couldn't do 4 lengths consecutively-100 meters. Then I did the real math, and learned I would have to do 70.4 lengths, 36 laps, or 18 "100's" to do a mile.

Without stopping.

And let's suppose that I ever want to try to do any sort of event or competition in which swimming is an aspect- most of them start at 1.2 miles and go up! It's a good thing I like a challenge, because these numbers seemed pretty daunting! Then I realized that the first few times I went surfing, I could only stay out for 30 minutes or so, then an hour, then a couple of hours depending on conditions. Chances were good that if I stuck with it, I would be turning laps in no time.

So far, so good. I went to the pool the other day and did 20 "100's." With stopping. I keep track of what number I'm on by taking off my spoke bracelet and moving it alone the tiles on the side of the pool. There are twenty tiles lining the edge of the length, so after each 100, I stop and catch my breath while I move my little metal bracelet along my makeshift abacus. What am I going to do when I start stringing together 100's?? Probably I'll be so stoked that I am making progress that I'll forget to keep track....sweet!! Who wants to bet my next race report has something to do with Xterra? OK, that may be a bit ambitious, but I'd put money that there will be one up sometime this year. Is is too late for a New Year's resolution????

Chapter 2.....sadly over?

2010-03-09T20:21:00.007-08:00

It started so beautifully- the weekly Saturday climbs up Palomar mountain. The 16 mile, 5000 foot effort was supposed to take an hour, according to the Coach. I laughed when I looked at my watch halfway up and the time was 40 minutes. At least the sun was shining. I thought all the horror stories I'd heard about freezing rain, hail, snow and ice, and, worst of all, COLD COLD rain (I know that sounds odd, but give me snow over cold rain any day!) were baloney. I trucked up the mountain the requisite 2 times, ate a bunch of gu, and smiled my merry little ignorant self all the way home.

The very next Saturday I got a little taste of Palomar love. But only the rainy, kind-of-cold love. She saved the really good stuff for later.

Somehow these pictures make the climb look flat. I promise it is not flat.

The really really interesting thing is how hot you get going up. I am comfortable in jersey, chamois, arm warmers, plastic rain thingy. Going down was ~29 degrees and required
++layers.

The Coach likes to taunt his minions by taking their picture and talking calmly to them while they struggle on. Sometimes he smiles from his warm car and I really want to scream.

It's not at all demoralizing when the World Champ comes blazing by you. Especially knowing she started climbing 15-20 minutes after you did! HA!

The only time I effectively had the World Champ in my rearview. Oh, because she hadn't caught me yet. Dang.

Goodbye Palomar. The odd thing is that on the last day (last Saturday) of this monstrous early morning ride, I didn't want to quit. In fact, I wanted to keep going badly. The Coach pulled the plug saying all was great and good and time to go home. I almost went back up after he left the parking lot, but I didn't.

Mr. Snailsy

2010-01-22T12:32:00.007-08:00

Regarding the fate of Mr. Pidggy, I received an email from Project Wildlife today. They regretfully informed me that Mr. Pidggy was too sick/injured and did not survive. Through the tears in my eyes, I wonder if I made the right choice to take him to the clinic, or if he would have been better served dying in his natural environment. Starving to death seems a miserable way to go, but at least he would have been near his home and the ocean and maybe would have found a way to adapt to his handicap, although I doubt it seriously. I suppose in the big picture, I should worry more about how much I drive my car, or fly in an airplane, or buy food from the grocery story, than the fate of a stupid pigeon.....but I can't seem to make my brain work like that.
One goes out.......

While Mr. Pidggy's fate was being sealed, another wildlife story was brewing in my very own bedroom (wait a minute....get your head out of the gutter). Within the first couple of weeks of living here in San Diego, I was gifted a couple of shells that I found absolutely stunning (remember I am a beach rookie, so stunning is a relative term!!). To add to my growing collection, I picked up a third one day while down at the beach and was contemplating an art project I’d like to do with this one in particular. This shell was different. I found the colors sharp and rich, and so fine that I thought the shell looked the way most do after you coat it with some nice clear paint or shellac. Not at all your typical beach find.

Fast forward a month and a half. The shell had been living on my nightstand happily with it’s two other cohorts when one morning I woke up to find it stuck to my table with a fragile film. I gasped as I thought my shell had contained a creature and I had, in my ignorance, killed it while I slept. I examined the inside and found what looked to be the remains of a nice little snail and I felt terrible, but left it sitting on my table for another few days feeling like a neglectful murderer. 3 days later, the shell was again stuck to my table, and I thought things were getting weird. It was clearly dead, wasn’t it?? A couple more days passed and I found the shell stuck to the side of my table. Enough idiocy, I took the shell into the bathroom, filled up the sink with a little water, and let the little creature come out and play…..which he eventually did. No wonder the shell was richly colored and beautiful. It was still housing a living animal!!

The irony is that I tried very hard to help the pigeon and sweated and worried over it's situation and he died. Yet, through neglect, I managed to keep a pet snail alive in my room for over 2 months, without it (really) going anywhere, dying, or even slugging me in my sleep!! Too bad I really love birds and am kind of grossed out by snails. Here's a shot of the dumb snail slouching away to do whatever it is they do in our yard. I'm sure he's adding to the ecology of the neighborhood in a myriad of useful ways. Unfortunately, one of them is not a contributing member of the food chain, where birds like Mr. Pidggy can slurp him up for breakfast, even with only half a beak.

Bird Rescue

2010-01-19T15:32:00.004-08:00

Last evening, I was standing on our deck looking at one of the most amazing sunsets casting a yellow-beige hue that faded into a purple sky, where a full, double rainbow hung. Out of the rain drizzle, a small pigeon-like bird flew over to me and landed 2 feet from where I stood. I thought it odd that a bird would come so close, and moved in to see what was going on with the little guy. He didn't move, just looked me up and down, so I crept closer and closer until I noticed that he appeared to be missing his upper beak.

I moved into action, recalling my experiences with the parrots we rescued and had as pets a few years back. I grabbed a couple of towels and a cardboard box, captured the little injured fellow, and tried to figure out what to do with him. Feed him sugar water and super glue on a homemade beak? Let him go out into the wild and fulfill his destiny? Look for a wild animal rescue and play hero? I went with number three and started calling around and looking on the internet for the right place to take Mr. Pidggy.

I found Project Wildlife, and decided to let him spend the night with me. If he was still alive and willing, we would head there in the morning. When I went upstairs to get him this a.m., he had escaped from the box-bed and was hanging out on the floor making cooing noises. I toweled him, boxed him, and we jumped in the car before he could poo all over the carpet.

I showed up at Project Wildlife with this little box and they said they would be happy to take him (even though my dad insisted he was just a stupid pigeon). I look forward to an email describing whether or not he was rehabbed and released, or sent to the big sky in the sky. Good luck little dude.

2010-01-19T09:44:00.002-08:00

Still working on my style.....

but I get so excited that I victory pump

Upshift

2010-01-14T07:18:00.002-08:00

Again, I'm finding it very difficult to post up about road rides and training. I find it pretty dull and monotonous myself, so I struggle to think why anyone else would want to read about it. Sounds like I need to revamp my perspective or start writing about something else!! Story time should be about adventures anyway......

Blog Hiatus

2009-11-27T12:32:00.004-08:00

I've been on blog hiatus for so long, I've forgotten what to write about......! Oh that's right, bikes. Actually, my new cross training (eh-em, surfing) has taken up so much of my attention it's hard to think about writing stories of road biking. Winter training is so vital, but can be pretty mundane too.

On Thursday, in honor of another day to be grateful for everything I'm already really grateful for, I and two others set out what was supposed to be a 120 mile bike party up the coast of Southern Cali and back down again in time to eat and be with family. My knee had been bugging me for two days prior so you can see where this story is headed....

The morning was gorgeous as we set out. I was equipped with knee warmers, bibs, and a nice, thin jersey....plenty of clothing for a long ride in November, no? Actually, for the first 1o minutes it was freezing and I was fully regretting my decision to leave my arm warmers. Soon the California sun came up and it was another beautiful day on the coast. I then realized how spoiled I've become....the fact is, I was deciding between bringing or leaving behind my arm warmers....jeez that so doesn't suck! I remember riding in Boone in 17 degrees and having to peel my fingers from the brake levers....because they were stuck in a claw shape. Did I mention I was feeling grateful??

Less than 30 miles into the ride, however, I started feeling the nagging twinge in my right knee that had been bugging me 2 days earlier, and realized that it had also been there the entire morning. I'd been taking all the weight of my right leg with my left, and had been spinning like mad up hills to keep from putting pressure on the knee. Suddenly my left leg was fatiguing and I couldn't ignore my right side anymore. The pain was overpowering and impossible to ignore. I pulled over and, embarrassed, began massaging the knee and trying to stretch it out.

I really hate disrupting other people's rides because I fail to properly plan, or fail at listening to my body, or in any way fail to be a responsible rider. I felt pretty bad about having to stop and try to work out my silly knee problems and as soon as I could, got back on the bike and continued the ride. I knew it would be short lived, however, as my knee was reminding me of it's presence with almost every spin of the pedals. I was thinking of alternative ways to get my broken little self back home- call in for back-up?? Ahhh, traffic and contribution to gas use..... soft pedal home?? I don't think my knee would take it...... taking the train was suggested.....hmmm that might work! About 10 miles later we rolled into (well, I drafted into) San Clemente and without passing go or collecting money of any kind, went straight to the Amtrak station. After a little jumble and jingle, I figured out which train, what time, what platform, etc. and said a grateful (theme of the day?? :) goodbye to my angelic ride partners, bidding them a fun and safe ride back.

I coasted down the beach to where the train would be stopping, and as I pulled up to the platform, the smell of warm cream and something wonderful cooking forced me from my pain cave. Across the street I saw the source of my sudden distraction- a quaint little crepery beckoning me through wide doors and filled with full-looking people. With 8 minutes til the scheduled train stop, I abandoned my bike (yes, I did it!) and hobbled quickly across the street toward my new inspiration. The dude behind the counter had brilliant blue eyes, a dusty blond mop of hair, and a youthful expression that appeared taken aback by my barging through the door and requesting to know how quickly a crepe could be manifested into my bare hands......please. As if on cue, a Nutella and powdered sugar crepe appeared within 3 minutes, and I was grinning ear to ear as I thanked the chef, the blue-eyed boy, and hobbled back across the street with my precious snack in hand.

My bike was waiting patiently for me, and as we sat anticipating the late-arriving train, I smacked down the delicious crepe. A grateful smile spread across my lips. The morning was starting to shape up into a not-so-terrible-start-to-the-day after all. I tried to make friends with some fellow trainmates, who were perhaps turned off by my silly bike costume, or uninterested in my perspectives on life and the afternoon.
When the train arrived, I hobbled on, strapped down my bike, and stumbled up the stairs. The conductor saw me playing the cripple and, when she realized my ticket was going to be more complicated than she had time for, gave me a free ride. I smiled gratefully when she said "Honey, don't even worry about it," and gave her a big thank you.

My seatmate was a woman who could have known me for years, except that we just met, and she and I gabbed on and on about life and family, people getting old, people staying young and being alive in general while the train zipped along the shoreline. I spied cluster after cluster of surfers waiting for their turkey day waves while basking in the beautiful morning sun. I was reminded that taking the train is not only fun, but exhilarating and sometimes downright magical. While I was frustrated for not completing the ride, for making my friends wait, and by knowing that I was probably going to have to take a few days off my bike to recover, I was keenly aware of all the amazing things going on around me and was very grateful to be in such a wonderful relationship with my life.

I continue to think how sometimes the not-plan is almost better than the real plan, and to be grateful for the flat tires, bad weather, and bunk knee days. I'm constantly pleased at what secrets and adventures are in store when I pay attention.

2009-10-21T13:32:00.002-07:00

Apparently if you make a mask of avocados and honey, it looks like someone puked guacamole all over your face.

24 Hour Nats in Photo

2009-10-14T20:09:00.011-07:00

These were my brake pads about an hour and a half before the race start. Jeff, head of the very-best-pit-crew-at-Moab-ever (see below), decided to be a pal and change them for me....after I innocently asked him to ride my bike around and cop a feel of my front brake. Well, thanks, Jeff. I think the metallic sheen you see below would have turned into a big stinking problem not too long into the race. Thank god Jeff knew more about this than me...

Here you see a large dust cloud from the 306 rider/runners who took off, ran around a bush (?), and came back to claim their bikes. I am still coughing that crap out of my lungs.....and I didn't even do the run, thank you teammate Dax.

Here we have team 8-6's bike strategically placed for retrieval......right next to competitor Yuki Saito's of team Topeak-Ergon. Now that it's all said and done, how uncool is it to say we were scared? We were scared. OK, me. Me was scared.

But Dax Massey (Bach Builders) got things going right from the start. He wasn't scared and pulled out in the top 5 riders.

I thought I would make up for my uncool-scaredness by getting a shot of my bike alone on the racks, after the 306 racers had departed. It also eased my mind to know I had my bike staged waaay earlier than any normal human should have. I'm not convinced my cool points went up any. But at least I can say something geeked out about how much I love my Niner.

My very-best-pit-crew-in-Moab-ever, Jeff and Jason. I don't know what to say except I owe these dudes and they really rock. Jeff was the coolest thing since Flintstones vitamins and Jason was the source of all things vital- race data. Both provided an endless supply of positive vibe, jokes that I really tried to laugh at, and soup. Plus they understood that Dax's short lap times, while AWESOME, meant that my breaks were short too! Aack!

After one lap I was still smiling....but, do I look like I'm crying? Yeah, I might have been. I should delete this picture, it's terrible.

These smiles were genuine, though.

The End or a Pause

2009-09-28T21:31:00.002-07:00

Back in Tucson....just arrived last night and am full of mixed emotions.
Grateful to be in one spot, not burning fossil fuels as I move around, grateful to have access to healthy, fresh food and a consistent shower/laundry, and grateful for space to move around and stretch out. Oh, and really grateful for consistent internet (it's been 2 weeks since I could check email...silly). While it's good to stop and catch up with myself and to relive the amazing memories I've created over the past 6 months, I'm surprised that I could keep going. I'd need to tweak a few things to go back on the road full-time, mostly having to do with carbon footprint and the like, but I guess being a traveler since birth predisposes me to the nomadic lifestyle.

I suppose that's a good thing, as I'll be leaving in a week to race 24 Hour Nationals in Moab. I haven't exactly heard many positive things about the course, but I'm at least glad that I'll be NOT going at it alone. I switched my registration over to duo, and will thankfully get to do half the number of laps I would otherwise be destined for.
Having said that, I remember the way I felt after last years shindig in Dairyland, and clearly remember saying that I thought duo was "way" harder than solo. This may be true, but at least I won't have to spend a month after dreading my bike and feeling like kitty litter covered poop dipped in dog puke. Sorry for the graphics, but it's so true, so true.
Instead, I'll just feel really poopy for 24 hours, then kind of poopy for a week or half-week, then pretty darn fast again. Better odds, better outcome.

Controversy

2009-09-03T10:52:00.001-07:00

http://www.superhumanmag.com/content/view/1586/48/

Cold Summer

2009-08-14T14:21:00.005-07:00

I'm still trying to vomit up the rest of my Intermontane race report, so that I can move forward and recover fully. In the meantime, I've renewed my commitment to my bike and have been putting in some good days. Today was going to be another long, beautiful ride around the Fort Collins area and began accordingly. I headed south on my mountain bike, following the paved, rolling roads to the town directly below. I filled up my water bottle with some ice and gatorade at my new favorite watering hole, and continued west into the foothills, where my plan was to catch another, winding hilly road north and loop around the entire city before dipping back into the Fort. How I wish I would have looked north before starting my venture.

In keeping with the consistent 90-95 degree days where keeping cool was the challenge, I was decked out in my bibs and jersey, little gloves to keep my hands juicy, and sunglasses for, you know, the sun. I was grateful for the "cloud cover" that was today's weather, hoping it would make it easier to stay hydrated and whatnot.

An hour and a half into the ride, I wasn't really warming up and could tell my body was on the flat side of the spectrum. Not wanting to be an idiot, I decided to cut the ride short of the 80 miles I had planned, and to turn east at an earlier point. After conferring with a knowledgeable local on the proposed turn, I was looking at 14 miles til that point, then a 2 mile climb, followed by an 11 mile descent into a spot I knew would be ~30 minutes from food, home and a shower.

Flat was how I was feeling, but not how the road was, so I was taking my time. Just a couple of miles short of my eastward turn, it started to sprinkle, then sprinkle a little harder and I decided to pull off to assess the situation and eat a granola bar or something. From my dry vantage under some enormous pines, I was dismayed to see the direction I was heading was covered in that beautiful white mist of rain that got thicker and whiter the further you looked. You know, the kind of white you love seeing except for when you're terribly dressed for it, or carrying a computer, or just did your hair and are wearing all white. At this point the temperature started dropping noticibly, and I realized I was well within the "terribly dressed for it" parameters. I saw the lovely veneer of chicken take over the skin of my arms and half hoped someone I knew would stop and offer me a lift into town.

I hung out for a few, ten-fifteen minutes waiting to see if the rain would quickly pass, or slowly pass, but it just kept coming. Finally, I sucked it up and decided the cold wet would give me motivation to turn the pedals over faster. It didn't, really, but at least I started moving again. I got to the turn to go over the mountain and tacked my way up the hill. This was actually the best part of the ride, because I had quit beating myself up for feeling so sluggish and was enjoying the rain-drenched climb. I suppose I felt I now had a justifiable reason for feeling crappy, so it made it okay for me to go at a stupidly slow pace. I was thinking about the TransGermany and wishing I had my single speed under me, or a gu that tasted a little different than the rest, but I could see the break in the ridge line where I would descend and knew my climb was short lived.

The descent hurt worse than I remember winters in Boone hurting. The rain had turned into hail and I was trying hard to keep my arm muscles engaged to create some sort of muscular warmth. I picked up my right arm to give it a shake and my hand was dead weight dripping from my wrist. A shake of my arm produced an electric shock that shot up my hand and forearm. The same thing happened with my left arm. My hands weren't asleep, they just weren't functional. That fact was both alarming and confusing all at once. I then realized I was drooling and snotting and that my mouth was agape time-trial style, and suddenly felt like a gigantic puss for being so freaking cold in August in not-Alaska....

Even thinking what a wimp I was, I still could barely get my hands to work once I arrived home. I knew I only had a handful of things to do before I could jump in a hot shower and dethaw, so I threw my wrists under the kitchen sink hoping the warmth would get me started. It felt so good I wanted to dive into the sink. Taking off my shoes and chamois required a talk-through and as I waited for the shower water to heat up I made a pb&j sandwich that looked more like a Picasso than anything I should be eating. Once in the shower, it took a full 8 minutes before my hands started tingling and then another 10 for them to stop. Even as I type, they are a little tingly feeling.

So, what did I learn from my little adventure into the great afternoon outdoors of Fort Collins?? I suppose even out here in the foothills the weather can change drastically and I should be prepared to be prepared for whatever, particularly when the day starts out cloudy...

Good luck to everyone suffering through the Leadville 100 tomorrow! I hope you all are prepared because I've heard the weather may be a bit chilly up there at 10,000 feet....

Day 2

2009-08-09T16:07:00.000-07:00

DAY 2
Being a sucker for drama, I got on my bike the following day just to see what would happen next. I didn’t plan on being any faster, my body was still rejecting efforts I made to ride with any level of intensity, and we were starting at 9:00, so I knew the heat would still be an issue. But I love a good story, so I lined up with everyone else and tried to get my head in the game.
Each stage began with a “neutral” roll-out following a police escort, which climbed a long hill, then hit the dirt where it was game on. On day 2 I realized that the group was splitting on the roll-out, causing some riders to be off the back before the race technically started. I thought it must have been demoralizing to those racers who were being dropped during the supposedly ‘slow and neutral’ roll-out pace. I was just getting dropped at the dirt which was bad enough, but who cares about equality or consistency, I mean, we’re all “elite” level athletes competing for 10 grand, right?? No need to worry about the great and amazing folks who weren’t there to rip peoples legs off trying to get a chunk of cash…. for those who were there for the ride, and who somehow seemed to fall under the radar of the race organizer.

Stage 2 was marked much better than day 1. The organizer had learned something from all the complaints and stories and had doubled the number of markings and tape for the second stage. Even so, there were a couple of spots that were frighteningly low on markings, I made one wrong turn (quickly resolved), and I kept thinking that we needed even more confidence markers to compensate for low trust levels from the day before.
When it was all said and done, though, the day went pretty smooth, and I’d only had to deal with my struggling fitness and lack of ability to handle the heat. I still was only able to sit and spin on all climbs and found my body refusing to let me go even moderately paced, let alone “hard.” More frustration, but at least it was all mine.

That evening at dinner, a racer meeting was announced. “Hmmm, shouldn’t we be having these every day??” I thought, but was curious what the noise was about. Then, the organizer stood before the group and told us that some wingnut had taken over the top of the mountain where we were supposed to ride the following day, and had threatened to take down course markings and make the trail impassible. Questions abounded: did you call the cops, do you have a permit to use these trails, what’s this guy’s address and can we go take him out, etc. etc.?? Numerous alternatives were put on the table and it was finally decided to run the course backwards, and take out the top part that was supposedly causing the problems. The start was delayed in order for the organizers to have time to put up the new markings, so instead of starting early, at 7:00 as previously promised, we were told the new start was at 8:00. Fine. Off to bed we were for an early day in the morning.

Intermontane Race Report Installment Uno

2009-08-04T17:21:00.002-07:00

PROLOGUE AND DAY 1
No race report is complete without including significant details leading up to the event. In the case of the Intermontane Challenge, in Kamloops, British Columbia, the days leading up to the race were almost as telling as the race itself.

Saturday was spent at my cousin’s wedding and reception where I was playing bridesmaid. The party was raging at midnight when I forced myself to bed and to try and sleep for a couple of hours. I was up at 3:30 to drive to the airport where I was to catch a flight to Vancouver via Phoenix. Waiting for the boarding call, I noticed no plane in our little gate. Hmmm, a bit concerning…. in actuality, my heart sank just a little, because I had a feeling what was going to come from this situation. Forty minutes later, when we were supposed to be boarding, the plane showed up and started preparations for our flight.
Between the late arrival of the plane and traffic on the tarmac, we were delayed about an hour beyond our original flight time. My calculations had us arriving just in time to zip over to my connecting flight and get on. The flight attendants had assured us that agents on the ground were doing everything possible to inform our connecting flights of the delay and to rebook us if necessary. When we landed, I could see my flight in the gate and breathed a sigh of relief that I would be on my way to Vancouver with no problem. Wrong, Rebecca, no sauce for you.

We sat on the ground for at least 10 minutes waiting for our gate to open, and by the time we pulled in and deplaned, I could see my Vancouver bound flight pulling away from the gate. I couldn’t believe it. There were four other people on my flight that were supposed to catch the one to Vancouver, and they didn’t hold the plane for the couple of minutes it would have taken to get us on. Tears welled up in my eyes and I willed myself not to cry. The agents taking care of the 90% of us who missed connecting flights rebooked me to fly to Vancouver at 7:30 at night, putting me in near 11:00, and with no way to reach Kamloops without renting a car and driving for 3-3½ hours. I would have gotten into Kamloops at 3:00 a.m., if everything went really smoothly!!

I was livid and had the agents rebook me to go through Seattle and arrive in Vancouver at 7:15, thinking forward progress was better than none at all. Fortunately these flights went off timely enough and I got through customs in Vancouver quickly. I took off through the terminal to get a ticket to Kamloops where I got lucky for the first time all day. The last ticket on the last flight of the night had my name on it…whew! I breathed a sigh of relief and was grateful that at least I was going to be able to start the race in the morning.
I arrived at the hotel at 12 midnight, PST, after having traveled for 23½ hours. I was dehydrated, hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. At that point, I should have had the wherewithal to know that my race was in jeopardy, and to get out my single speed. I didn’t, of course, get that smart until Friday.

Warming up before the race, I felt,….sort of all right….I guess. I could tell that I was going to have difficulties going fast off the start. My legs felt okay, but overall I was blech, and I sensed that my spring was going to be a bit more like fall. I rationed that having a slow start to a stage race was a good thing. Better to ride into form than lose it, right??
The race began with a parade lap around town. It was actually kind of fun (and a good warm-up) until we suddenly started going back up the hill we had come down at the beginning…what?? It was weird to be climbing this hill “not racing,” and trying to pretend like it wasn’t bothering me, which it was. At the top of this extended paved road climb, the dirt road, aka start of the race official, splintered off to the right, and the pace picked up. I did not.

I felt like someone was choking me, at altitude, and forcing me to ride my bike all at once. It was horrible. The pain was unbelievable, but oddly, my legs felt all right. Looking back I can see it was because I wasn’t able to go fast enough to make my legs hurt at all! I kept telling myself not to worry, that the race was 5 days long, and that if I could give myself a little time to warm up, I would ride into form and be able to make up a fair amount of time. With these thoughts, I was able to keep my head in the game, even though my body was ready to throw it in and go swimming for a week.

About ¾ of the way through the course, I was bombing down some magnificent singletrack when I started noticing a lack of course markings. Now, the yellow-green tape that was being used to this point had not been particularly plentiful, but it was still present, and suddenly I wasn’t seeing any at all. I kept going a bit further until I dumped out onto a dirt road and spied a piece of tape dangling from a nearby tree. Sweet, I thought, I am on track. A little bit later, though, I started noticing some oddities. I was catching up to people who were walking where I was riding and the trail seemed awfully familiar. I paused to evaluate the situation for a few minutes and was caught by Jonathan Nutbrown, who was walking his bike due to a broken off derailleur. Wait a minute…I passed Jonathan Nutbrown walking his broken off derailleur bike hours ago …..something is really wrong. I called out to another guy who I had been riding off and on with, “haven’t we done this part already??” As he whizzed by his joyful response, “YEAH!!” hit me with disbelief. Dude, you really didn’t care, did you??

I promptly turned around and started back up the trail I had just come down, for the second time. On the way back up the trail, I ran into several other people who had apparently made the same mistake I had, and were grateful to be corrected before they got too far off course. When we finally rectified the mis-turn and got back on track, 24-25 minutes had gone by and what mental edge I had left was starting to dull.

Did I mention that it was HOT?? Apparently, the locals who heard the race announcement responded with, “July?? In Kamloops??” Everyone thought we were nuts, and I started agreeing with them. You would think that Canada means cool, chilly, heck, downright cold. Not Kamloops, where winter sees 20 below and summer sees over 100. Temperatures hit and exceeded 100 degrees every day we were on the bike and it was stifling. Being in the sun was like riding with someone towing on your Camelback while wearing a garter around your ribs; it was nearly impossible to breathe and push the body in the heat. The shade, thankfully, was easily 15-20 degrees cooler, and when there was a breeze, it made all the difference in the world.
Anyway, between the heat, the day-before travel, the dehydration, the disappointment, and the getting lost, I can honestly say I had one of the worst days on my bike I’ve had in years. I knew coming into the race that I would be going up against girls who would likely be faster than me, but I also knew that if I was on my game, I would race competitively, and that a stage race means anything can happen. After coming in over an hour behind the leaders on day 1, and feeling completely helpless over the factors contributing to my situation, my race felt doomed to enjoying salt and vinegar potato chips and cokes at the finish. I soon realized I wasn’t the only one who had had a rough day of it.

All around the race venue, stories were piling in of racers going off course and losing anywhere from 10 to 50 minutes. People (myself included) had run out of water due to these mis-turns and were suffering from the effects of the heat. Attitudes ranged from livid to laughing, but the majority of people had stories to tell of losing their way and dealing with the elements. I started feeling my fairness radar going off, as I learned that, not only had the leaders not gotten lost, but most people behind them had, and at a host of different places on the course. This was not a case of 1 or 2 racers getting turned around in one spot (probably rider error), but the majority of racers getting lost in multiple areas, indicating a very poorly marked course.
The only other stage race I’ve done (TransGermany, 07) was a point-to-point race in its’ first year as well. It was organized beautifully, and marked expertly. In the 8 days that hundreds of us raced, I heard not one single report of getting turned around or misled, and it ended up being one of the best experiences I’ve ever had on a bike. First year syndrome was no excuse for what was going on in Kamloops, and I was concerned.

Language is the Liquid....

2009-07-31T22:05:00.011-07:00

I've been paying attention this week, and noticed a slur of phrases used carelessly in a slew of situations. The comment "It's all downhill from here," is never actually used correctly, but in some cases (such as at the IMC), it's highly overused... incorrectly. In fact, in all the time I've ridden and raced a bike (not all that long, actually), I've never heard "it's all downhill from here" used accurately, but for some strange reason, people still seem to think it's a nice thing to say and throw it out at you right before you come upon some sweet section of hike-a-bike. Not that it matters.....not that my ride is influenced by what someone randomly says.....but I'm just saying I've noticed that no one ever gets that one right, and it's weirdly annoying.... like when people say "No, no, I'm fine," or "Yeah, yeah, that looks great on you," or "Your boyfriend won't mind." OK, you get the point.

I felt really bad today, during Stage 5 of Intermontane, when I heard a spectator tell me it was all downs and a minute later came upon a steep incline going up. Mostly I felt bad because the temperature was hovering around 101 degrees F and I was mentally over the whole experience, but it inspired me to start composing this blog in my mind. A couple of minutes later I came upon a fellow racer who was walking his bike and I asked if he needed anything. He informed me that he was fine, had a broken chain and whatnot, and so I offered him my tools and quick link. "Oh no," he replied, it's "all downhill from here...." Sorry dude, you were so wrong......

Other comments I've noticed this week that were also, so wrong:::

"The course is marked."

"Any turns will be painfully obvious."

"Tomorrow's stage will begin at _____."

"The start has been delayed by 30 minutes/an hour, but we'll get it going then."

"We've taken your feedback into consideration and tomorrow's stage will be different."

On the positive side, I have seen some of the most generous acts of human kindness at Intermontane while the madness has been raging all around. It's been an amazing 180 degree difference of the best and worst. Chris Sheppard (who took the win in the mens category) sat with Ben O#@%^ for thirty minutes during yesterday's stage when Ben wrecked and severely concussed himself on a fire road. Thirty whole minutes. Ten grand on the table, and CS told Tinker (who was riding with them) to call for help and then go on ahead, while CS waited for medics to come. Tonight he collected his check, hung out for a bit, and said he was headed out to go play a game of Scrabble with the family. I think I'm in love.
Jonathan Nutbrown broke his derailluer on the first day and walked the majority of the 87k stage, smiling and joking with other riders. Then at the end of that walk/ride, his right pedal broke, so that he couldn't even coast down techy sections. He helped countless people with mechanical issues on subsequent days and ended up being some sort of trail angel.
Amanda Carey and Sarah Kaufman (2nd and 3rd, respectively) decided to combine their prize money and split it evenly, to help compensate for the unjust nature of the race. Lyne Bessette gave her runner up prize to DFL.

Intermontane--- I've come away with enough stories to keep me writing for weeks, and while my faith in mountain bike racing may be slightly scarred, my faith in humanity has been somewhat boosted. For now, sleep is in order, and maybe a little food...plenty of time for writing tomorrow on the 14 hour drive to Missoula, Montana.
If you haven't done so yet, please send a little love to Ride for Reading.
Thanks for checking in.

IMC Drama

2009-07-31T08:31:00.002-07:00

I've almost been clueless as to what I want to write about the DRAMA of the Intermontane Challenge Stage Race here in Kamloops, British Columbia.
I've been working on a full race report outlining the countless issues and discrepancies of the madness occurring here, but it's just taking so long...because there are so many stories to tell.....
Today was day 4 of the 5 day stage race. Suffice to say I've been having a rough week, along with just about everyone else involved in the event. The course was supposed to be 89.5 kilometers but actually was 98-99k and it was a l-o-n-g day in the saddle.
I didn't get lost, run out of water, become dehydrated, and I could actually breathe while pedaling, so it was a big improvement over the previous three days, but I'll admit that when I ran out of food and was in the middle of 40k of the most annoying hike-a-bike up and down section of trail I've ever ridden in my life, I had a few Not-So-Nice thoughts playing through my mind.

One scenario that kept me particularly entertained was a Judge Judy meets Chuck Brennan episode where several of us racers described the conditions of the race and got all the proceeds awarded back to cover entry fees, with the extra cash going to some cool non-profit, like Ride for Reading or something. This thought kept my mind occupied for a solid hour, hour and a half today, and gave me something small to look forward to, or at least hope for. How pathetic.

I did stop during today's stage, and take a small rest on the side of the trail. I paused to look at the local vegetation, get swarmed by mosquitoes, and tell Chuck exactly what I thought of the course. I informed him that the trails we were riding were actually hiking trails and bikes had no business being on them. I also asked him if he had ever ridden a mountain bike before, let alone raced one. Seeing as it was just me and my bike on the side of the trail, my words were lost to the sagebrush and rocks.

One more stage left....a 50k "time trial." Let's see how badly this one can get mucked up.... I mean Chucked up.

National Championship Chronicles

2009-07-19T20:52:00.014-07:00

Like Lindsay, I've been putting off my XC Nationals race report, although not because of any "mixed feelings," as she's suffering from, but because I've been drunk. Oh, now-now, not that kind of drunk (well maybe a little of that kind).....oxygen drunk. I flew back "home" to PA on Monday, had a delicious dinner with the fam, and then I...... PASSED OUT. When I druggedly dragged myself from the sheets the next morning, I drove my aunt to work, came home, and......down she went. Six hours later (that's 6 hours for the nonbelievers).....I drug myself out of bed again.

Are you kidding me???

My dear, sweet, friend Erika, in Breckenridge, told me that when she and her husband come down the mountain from 9,600 ft., they sleep like babies. I laughed cutely in understanding when she told me that... but now I've been schooled. Dang. The crazy part is I bet I'll sleep 10 hours tonight if the farm activity doesn't wake me up.

Why so tired?? Well, I suppose it has something to do with the months of travel and racing.... and maybe the National championships this past weekend....but I'm blaming the oxygen. I finally got to where the lack of it wasn't bothering me quite so much---I wasn't trashed from climbing a flight of stairs, putting away dishes, or drinking one beer, but I guess just because it wasn't overtly bothering me doesn't mean it wasn't affecting me....and being at sea level again is showing me how much I was missing that sweet, sweet low country air.

The races themselves were pretty epic. Saturday's cross country had me all nerves beforehand. I usually give myself a lot of leeway when racing pro girls, but since I don't have a USAC upgrade, I was racing Category 1 and thinking that if I didn't win, I was a bad, bad girl. What a terrible attitude to have about a race......sigh......but it gave me plenty of ammunition to keep my body pushing forward, even when I started hurting.
....which didn't take long. I felt really amazing at the line, and when the whistle blew, I hit it sea level style. I downshifted a couple of times and stood up on my bike, figuring that I could at least get a small gap on the other girls and at most get in their heads. Both worked, except with one girl...she caught up and jumped on my wheel, determined to stick with me. Let me interject that I hardly ever race this way----I am not a go-all-out-at-the-line kind of girl. I'd rather play my cards wisely, sitting patiently on someone's wheel, and charging when I feel great and they seem weak. Yeah, I know, this is the internet and I should keep these kinds of things to myself, but seriously? It's just smart race tactics, published in the manual of everyday thinking.... and here I was ignoring the basics at a national race. Yes, I can see the altitude was affecting me.

Soon after climbing the first really *fun* climb, oh I mean start of the race, I felt the effects of my effort. WHew! No effort goes unrecognized at high altitude---I could hear it in my breathing and feel it in my lungs, but I was expecting pain, so I pushed through and hit the singletrack somewhat strong. On the first singletrack climb I heard what I was expecting to hear a great deal of- the bell of my singlespeed friends who had started just behind us. Jen Wilson came cheifing up on me and passed in beautiful SS style. One minute later I heard Amy Hermes getting ready to do the same thing. Great, I thought, singlespeeding really is faster than geared bike riding!! As it turned out, Amy and I went back and forth a couple of times, but no other singlespeeders passed me. In fact, only one or two other riders passed me during the whole race, so I guess I'll stay on my geared bike....for now.
I managed to stay in the lead of my group, with second place riding off and on behind me. Occasionally I could hear her breathing hard behind me, but she never made a pass and I eventually put a minute or so on her, finishing just behind Jen and taking the win for my Cat. It was painful to ride hard for 2 hours and 9 minutes at altitude. I felt it in my legs when I was climbing one of the dirt roads on the back side of the course and some nice cramps started coming on. Fortunately, I was able to ride through them and keep my legs from totally locking up, but I could tell that any work I was doing was cumulative and that my body was not going to forget the effort.

The next day I woke feeling those cumlative effects and knowing my body did not have what it needed to kick butt in a short track competition. I also woke knowing that I had already given the USAC my $55 and had no choice about the situation. Back to the line for more suffering, it was.

The short track, ahhh, my most dreaded, and occasionally, most loved event. It can be so painful for me to ride at redline for 20-30 minutes, but when I'm feeling good, it can be so refreshing. I think in the long run, it might be better for me to train up to doing short track and cross country races. The recovery from them is so stinking short (compared to a 24 solo), and all they do is make you faster.....and faster......I took 3rd in the Cat 1 Nats short track. I'm amazed that I finished those laps at all, let alone that I got on the podium. I'm sure there were only a handful of girls out there who actually felt fresh and ready to go for the ST, but for whatever reason, I was dredging the bottom of my tank to slog up that hill one-more-time. Speaking of...the course. I was not a fan of either the ST or XC courses, but seeing as no one really cared what I thought, I raced them just the same. The ST went up a pretty intense hill climb, then turned and climbed some more, then turned and steady climbed through a tree section, and then went down. I really could have ridden the whole thing going down, but again, no one asked for my thoughts on the course, and I guess going down the whole time means something more like Super D or Downhill. OK, Ok.

Total tally for the weekend: one 1st place finish in the Cross Country and one 3rd place finish in the Short Track. I can deal with those results....and I guess I'll quit putting off an upgrade and submit my results to the governing body of cycling rules and go for a pro liscense....on to life as packfill, I suppose. Perhaps that means that next year I will try to race the really fast girls at these events, and fulfill a dream as a XC athlete. Who woulda thought??

Ride For Reading

2009-07-11T13:40:00.010-07:00

Cycling Videos on CyclingDirt

Back in May, I had the good fortune to meet this fine fellow at a "bike" race in Fayetteville, TN. Matt, as we will call him, is the organizer of a wonderful non-profit called "Ride For Reading."
Their goal is to distribute books to children who do not have their own. In the neighborhoods they serve, the ratio of age-appropriate books to children is 1 to 300. Boy, that's not so good. Being a recent SLP graduate and general appreciator of children, my heart totally goes out to his cause, and I want to help.

Seeing as I don't plan on winning (or even coming close to winning) Single Speed Worlds in Durango this year, I'm going to use the race as one of those oh-so-annoying-fundraiser-type of events. Yes, I generally cringe when one of my friends or family members decides to do a "give me money because I am going to do something really fun" events, but here I am.....doing the thing I say I'll never do.....

I would like to raise $500.00 (five hundred) dollars to give to Ride For Reading in honor of me losing Single Speed Worlds on September 20th. At least I can salvage something from the future, painful, shaming event by donating my friends and family members money to a beautiful charity, and to help children somewhere read books about doing all the things they want to do, and creating dreams to fulfill.

If I had a real job, this is where I would say "I will match every dollar donated with a dollar of my own....." And if I were a real bike racer, this is where I would say "for every minute I have a gap over the competition, please agree to donate XX amount of dollars." Since I have nor am either of these things, I'll just ask really, really nicely, to please click the link below and donate $ to Ride For Reading in honor of my silly bike race.....and know that I believe in karma....so when I do get a job, I'll be happy to smile and click the link in your email when you do the same type of event. No grumbling allowed (at least none that anyone can hear).
OK, go.

DONATE HERE!!!

oh, ps, I'm not putting a 'date to donate' by, because this encourages procrastination. If you have any inkling to help out, do it now, and feel good about yourself immediately. No point in putting off the glow that comes from being a good person. Thanks.

p.p.s- if you would like to just send good kids books in lieu of money, please use the following address:

1302 Plymouth Avenue, Nashville, TN 37216

Wild Turkey during, Jack Daniels after

2009-07-08T23:45:00.005-07:00

The Firecracker 50 was everything a race above 9,500 feet is supposed to be: painful, thrilling, breathtaking, educational, and half drunk. Sadly, the half drunk part only lasted about 15 minutes, and then the stomach cramps and nausea set in.
My plan was to start insanely slow....watching with discipline as my competition rode away from me.....to get through the first lap......and then if I still felt like living, to build throughout the second lap and end with a bang. I know this doesn't really sound like a winning plan.....but my goals for this race were to a) survive b) not blow my cookies on the first lap c) not die d) get a training ride in and e) learn a bit about high altitude racing while acclimating to low oxygen levels.

As per recommendations from persons who have raced at high altitudes, and in keeping with my plan, I started the Marathon National Championships s-l-o-w-l-y. This was my first time attempting effort at such a low oxygen level and I was advised to play my cards very wisely....that if I pushed too hard I wouldn't be able to recover and would blow my race. So, after the Golden Bike Cheerleaders were finished making a mockery of everything mountain biking stands for, and the whistle blew, I and the other Cat 1 ladies began steadily climbing our way up Boreas Pass. Clearly, my competition also had plans to start at turtle's pace---it was the slowest start to a race I have been a part of.

At the top of the first climb I came across a half-naked dude on a cruiser bike, and a whole bunch of other folks yelling at the riders to take a shot of Wild Turkey....or a beer. As tempting as it sounded, I thought it might be better for me to pass on the shot of whiskey. It was honestly enough for me to focus on my breathing and keep myself disciplined enough to ride slow....I didn't think whiskey would help my efforts.
As planned, I made it through the first lap without too much effort or pain. First place (Jari Kirkland) was probably several minutes ahead of me, and another girl and I were going back and forth between 2nd and 3rd. I was climbing better, but she was clearly stronger on the descents and put a gap on me during the final downhill of the first lap. Dang. I went into the second lap hoping to catch her on the climb, but didn't see her so I gladly took the shot of Wild Turkey when I passed the Whiskey Aid station at the top of Boreas Pass. Ahhh, relief...the beauty of altitude is that very little alcohol has a very big effect on a person.....the downside of this shot was that once it wore off, my stomach started cramping and I couldn't tell if I was hungry or going to toss my tummy on the side of the trail.

That was my condition going into the toughest part of lap 2= Lil French, a nasty climb that left most racers walking beside their bike at some point or another. I had managed to ride almost all of it during the first lap, but on lap 2, I started feeling the effects of everything I had done that day. It was the only time during the race when I felt bad....and I felt really bad....bad enough that 3rd place (remember the girl who passed me? apparently she flatted or fell back and was actually behind me, not in front) caught up to me again. Oh crap, I thought, I wished I'da known I was in 2nd when I passed the whiskey stand.....we rode together for a bit, and were at the 2nd to last climb when my legs suddenly came back, and strong. My stomach was no longer rebelling against me and I felt like I might actually make the finish line. I picked up the pace on the climb and decided to hit it for the downhill, hoping to hold the gap I had created. For the final climb and descent I opened it up and came into the finish 3 minutes ahead of 3rd place. Jari had finished 13 minutes ahead of me, but I wasn't all that bummed as I had followed my plan, and finished the race strong. I wish I had picked up the pace sooner, but now I know that I can do that next time I'm racing up high. For a first race at altitude, I was stoked with 2nd place....and celebrated appropriately....by watching the fireworks...

The Talk

2009-06-29T12:04:00.007-07:00

Someone recently expressed interest in doing a 24 Hour solo effort and asked for tips. Besides NOT DOING IT!!, I would recommend having a good talk with yourself beforehand.... In it I would ask "how much do I hate myself?" and "how much introspective thinking do I need right now?" and "did I charge my iPod batteries?" I forgot to have this little talk with myself before Italy and remembered my mistake at 10 a.m. when I realized I was going to die. Fortunately, Dejay was there to a) remind me I wasn't going to die, b) bribe me with all sorts of goodies for getting back on my bike, and c) assure me that at least I wasn't in as bad shape as he was. :::

"Rebecca, you're killin it girl. You've got a 3-lap lead over the other girls
and it's getting so HOT out there that everyone's slowing way down. And look, someone punched me in the eye!"

"No, Dejay, I just saw the 2nd place girl out there hammering
and, oh yeah, I'm going to die."

"You just think you're going to die. You better keep that helmet on....and get back on your bike, or I'm stealing it and selling it to the Italians!"

"Maybe he's right......"

"Wicki, listen, you're a rockstar, your sponsors are counting on you, the eyes of all masochists in Europe are on you, and I'll buy you all the gelato you want if you win."

"I'd rather put a stick in my eye. But you are right,
and since that only happens once a decade,
I'll honor the occassion by defying death and riding another 4 laps."

Sound fun?? I can attest that it only gets better. So, if you're seriously considering a 24 solo and you need someone to talk you out of it- I'm still in the mood. I haven't managed to forget the pain of this one, and am still holding firm to my "I'll never, ever do one of those again" promise to myself. Except that I've already registered for Nationals in Moab......hmmmm......one ticket to self-loathing and utter misery, best price, anyone, anyone??

Cowbell 2009, not a 12-hour race

2009-06-28T11:02:00.005-07:00

Yeah, so about that 12-hour race thing….I guess the Cowbell is now not a 12-hour race, right?? Hope everyone got that…before they showed up to race, that is. Two years ago, I raced the Cowbell Challenge for the final year it was held at the National Whitewater Center, formally known as Catawba, a place where you get to park for free and ride your bike on some pretty alright city-not-quite-city trails. It was fun, and the climbs hurt badly enough that a 12 hour race felt like a good effort. Last year, the same 12-hour was held in Davidson, NC, and although I did not get to make the trip for it, I heard many things about the course---mostly rooty things. Pre-riding the course, I was surprised, but pleasantly so. From all I’d heard, I pictured rolling-flat, fast, un-technical singletrack; the equivalent of a boring, “fitness” course. However, for each of the six 8-mile laps, there was about 800 feet of climbing, some twisty, fun singletrack, and enough awkwardly placed obstacles to make good handling skills an advantage, even if it only gained seconds each time. I felt good about it.

Waking up on Marathon morning, however, I did not feel so great about it. We’d been staying up in the mountains for almost a month, resting from the Mohican/Italy, training, and generally avoiding the onset of summer heat. Unlike my courier friends, I am totally de-acclimated to humidity and high temps these days. By 8 a.m. on Saturday morning, the heat was already sweltering, and the humidity was rising to the 100% level!! I knew we were in for it, and that this race was, again, going to be as much about surviving, pacing and smart strategy as it was about bike riding. It was like the opposite, but equally evil twin of DSG, (aka mudsling 09).
The race began with a 6.5 mile road stage from town to the start of the singletrack, where we were to complete 6 laps of the 8 mile course. My start was indicative of my overall fitness/feeling on a bike lately- horrible!! The 2 weeks prior to the Cowbell found me in or near tears on every ride I took. So I wasn’t at all surprised that it took me 2 hours to start feeling anywhere close to good on this day. I think I may still be feeling the effects of the solo effort in Italy…..it was just under 4 weeks before the Cowbell and I remember last year feeling the same sort of funk for the same amount of time. Anyway, the start sucked big, but I knew in the back of my mind that starting slow was a better way to handle the heat in the long run.

My terrible start had put me near the back of the open field and I pushed a little to get past 6 or so racers before the singletrack. I am so NOT a road racer (see where I need some work?) but I am a pretty good mountain biker, and I was inevitably stuck behind slower bike handlers many times during the first lap. Two hours into the race, I felt my funky freak starting to come out a bit. I watched the 4th place girl explode (it looked like the heat got her) right in front of me and caught up with 3rd (Beth Frye) around this time. Beth and I rode together for a lap, closing the gap on 2nd and feeling good. I passed Beth somewhere during lap 5 and was seeing Rebecca Rusch (2nd) within a minute or two ahead of me. I guess she saw me too, and didn’t want to give it up that easily. On lap 6 I picked up the pace and she must have too, because she finished a couple of minutes ahead of me.

I think it got hotter on that last lap, because I finished the race ticked off. I wasn’t really mad at getting 3rd or having a wanky race, but I was just generally pissed. I went over to our tent and got doused with ice water, stuck a handful of ice in my sports bra and took a seat in the shade. Things started improving.
Tyler from Bikerumor.com came over and asked if I wanted to do a run down of my bike for the website. Ha!! Sure, I said, but looking back, I sure do wish I’d at least fixed my hair so it didn’t look like I had a sweet comb-over. And why do I always sound like Napolean Dynamite on these things??
Fuzzy got 4th to Harlan Price and Dejay took the win in the Single Speed category. The next day, Dejay and I did the Kenda Cup XC, getting 1st places in the much cooler temperatures, and feeling surprisingly good. Sunday was the first day I was able to hammer on my bike and I felt good the entire time. Except for when I came off my bike behind another rider and got stuck on a muddy embankment slip-n-slide!!
Thanks to Taylor Sullivan for making the weekend a success!! He ran a great event and made it possible for many people from far away to come and participate. Plus, he made sure to give equal payout for men and women. The Cowbell will definitely be on my calendar for as long as possible!!

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

2009-06-25T15:12:00.005-07:00

Before I post my write-up of the Cowbell, I want to do a lil photo essay of my Favorite things, Pisgah mountain style......

Blue Steel

2009-06-12T20:16:00.004-07:00

It's official, I can now be a male model. I've got Blue Steel dialed in to perfection.

Italy Report- FInale

2009-06-03T09:30:00.002-07:00

Just like last year, Italy was beautiful, the food was AMAZING and the stay too short. The people continually astounded me, with their helpfulness and commitment to acts of good will. Both this year and last I have been struck by the apparent cultural value of “people over money and time.” It is heartwarming and refreshing, and makes my thoughts spin with wanting to uproot and live there. Being in Italy is easy. Getting to Italy was the challenge.

Dejay, Fuzzy, Kristina (mama), Ian (22 month-old baby) and myself were slated to fly on the same flight, which we characteristically missed the check-in for by 3 minutes. The manager standing at the desk did not hurry us in, help us re-book, or make any effort to assist us in any way. As soon as he saw the bikes and baby every ounce of kindness was swiped from his face and he turned as French as sour goat cheese. In fact, he walked us over to the Delta desk and with no explanation dropped us off with a clueless, but sweet airline agent. We spent the next 5 hours trying to re-book our flights without spending an additional $12,000, and to get to Finale for the race. Finally, the impossible was accomplished and we were booked on a flight for the following afternoon. Hotel arrangements were made and we trudged off to lick our self-inflicted wounds for the night.

46 hours later, the 4.5 of us arrived at our hotel in Finale Ligure intact, but missing a bike box, a carseat, and the baby/mama luggage. Ahhh, the challenge continues. We pushed through frustration and exhaustion to catch up with the remainder of the team, get 2 of our bikes built, and try to salvage what was left of our time to prepare for a 24 hour race. Somehow we managed to get it all done, have dinner and get to our hotels at a reasonable hour. Fuzzy got his bike and luggage Friday night and planned to wake extra early to put his bike together before the race. Nothing like a last minute bike build to set the tone for an international event. We all bid each other goodnight and headed off to put in some pillow time.

Unfortunately for me, the espresso I had at dinner didn’t wear off until long after my nerves and I spent the better part of the night before the race fighting a losing battle to sleep. When I finally did rest (6:00 am), it was fitful and I arose sure that I would crack like an Easter egg when the whistle blew. I reluctantly pulled myself from the covers and put my game face as close to on as it would go. Time to flip the switch, regardless of my excuses.

The race started right on Italy time, aka an hour late….so, at 1:52 I headed over to the start line to get a spot right in front. Fuzzy and Dejay had placed my bike and told me exactly where to look for it- “inside the transition tent, on the right, middle of the line. One of us will be right behind it so just look for us,” they told me. That sounds easy enough, I thought, just look for Cousin It and I should be good to……GO!!! Run, run, run, ahhhh, I hate Leman’s start!.....run, run, there’s Sylvia in bright green and black,…. oh god I wish I’d gotten some sleep….ok, there’s the tent, there’s the bright green jersey……but where’s my bike??? Aaahhh!! On the right?? In the middle??? Did they mean on the left??? There goes Sylvia…….but where the hell is my bike? Quit panicking and move forward I told myself and suddenly I saw a too long beard like an angel in the crowd and my Air Nine in his hands. I jumped on and hit it. Those 20 seconds were like a slow motion picture reel. As I headed out of the transition tent and onto the singletrack I knew that those 20 seconds would turn into minutes fighting my way past countless riders between me and where I wanted to be.

I caught up to Sylvia on the second lap (laps were short- 5 miles and around 30 minutes) and could see her jersey bobbing just ahead of me on the climb. I shifted out of my big chainring when suddenly my pedals stopped moving and I realized something I haven’t dealt with in many moons, chainsuck…. Go figure! I jumped off to clear the chain and found it wedged firmly between my chainring and frame. I twisted and pulled and prayed the chain wouldn’t break, and after a little less than a minute was able to free the chain and get back on board. I have never had a chain wedged so tightly before- it left a large gash on my chainstay and I decided not to use the big chainring again unless I could get some mechanical assistance first. I've learned a good deal about single speeds in the past couple of years, but I admittedly have no idea how to handle a derailluer (or even spell it for that matter), so I was concerned to push the envelope with my new geared bike.

I could definitely feel the fatigue, travel and lack of riding in my body. My pace was significantly slower than I anticipated and wanted to ride. Every part of my body felt the facts of the past few weeks---and I was paying for it with long lap times and a sluggish pace. Nonetheless, around my 7th or 8th lap, I caught up to Sylvia for the second time and decided to play a little. I hung on her wheel for a half lap or so until my teammate came by cheering for me and giving away my position. Once Sylvia looked back and saw me riding behind her, she picked up the pace…and I let her go, still working myself into a nice rhythm. For 3 laps she rode up to speed and I held a steady pace, waiting for the right time to make a move. On lap 10 it presented itself and I sprung, passing Sylvia, blazing. I held the pace, gaining a multi-minute gap and riding into the night feeling steady and strong. I never got into my full-on "race pace," but at least I started feeling a bit closer to normal...

As night fell, the Niner team and I got to show off a little. Not only did the men’s team maintain consistent lap times throughout the night, some of them (eh-em Dejay’s) got even faster!! Throughout the night, the men’s team put a lap and a half on the rest of the field and I also put big time gaps on the competition, riding my way into a 3-lap lead by sunrise. Sylvia had quit racing by this point and the race was essentially down to 2nd and 3rd place. Just before sunrise I rolled into the pit to find Chris Sugai (co-owner of Niner Bikes) and Dejay waiting for me. Dejay asked if I wanted some inspiration and of course I did, so they informed me that I was sitting in 4th place… in the men’s solo field! Ha!!

With the sun came blistering heat and by mid-morning I was heading out for laps with twice as much fluid and a wet towel around my neck. Racers were cracking right and left. The Niner men were unfazed and continued to turn insanely fast laps, now having lapped the other teams twice over again. We came into the last hour of the race with leads that couldn’t be beaten, and rolled through the finish in perfect form. Honestly, getting to Italy may have been a mess, but the race couldn’t have gone better. I ended the race 1st in the female category (32 laps) and 4th in the overall (men’s/women’s combined). The guys team killed it too, winning by over 2 laps.
We spent Monday on the beach, eating gelatto and swimming with the jellyfish and flew back to the States on Tuesday to make it to the Mohican 100 (100 mile mountain bike race).

I had no business doing a 100 miler the week after a solo 24 effort, but I've never been one to make a logical choice when it comes to physical challenges, so, like a dummy, I signed up. Despite all of my friend's advice to chill out a take a week off, or at least enter in the 100k, I got on my bike to go and realized I couldn't sit on the saddle. And my left knee was stiff and sore from the trauma of the race, in fact it had been painfully sore all week. But, you never know until you get out there and try, I thought. So try I did. For 72 miles. Then I decided that having to pedal with one foot propped on my top tube, and sitting halfway off my saddle kinda sucked. I decided to quit. Right about this time, Danielle Musto caught up to me....wait, let me try that again. At about hour 7, Danielle Musto caught up to....what?? Apparently, she and 2 dudes she was riding with took a wrong/mismarked turn, and ended up 1.5 hours off the back of the pack....the DFL pack. So she came by as surprised to see me as I was to see her but in full-on go mode and I only tried to pedal with her long enough to catch up on the news. We were coming into Aid 4 and I asked her to pass along the info that some broken a$# chick would be coming through in a few minutes, begging for a ride back to the start/finish. Danielle kindly gave the volunteers a head's up and when I arrived they asked if I wanted to keep going. For the first time in my racing history, I gratefully accepted the 'out' and loaded up Jose's car with my bike and my swollen body.

I'm looking forward to a couple of weeks away from the race venue- to focus on the rest of my life and give my body a break. I have a bunch of things to accomplish, including getting a job, and I need to move my body in different ways. Italy was amazing, but next year, I'm staying for at least a week!!

Video- 29er Italy

2009-06-02T12:13:00.002-07:00

http://www.29pollici.com/di-gara/362-24h-of-finale-video-parte-1

http://www.29pollici.com/di-gara/364-dallalba-allarrivo-24h-of-finale-2009

Niner Team getting some in Italy

Return

2009-05-28T12:22:00.007-07:00

We returned from Italy Tuesday night-----I feel like my entire life right now is packing, unpacking, re-packing and re-unpacking.....building a bike, doing a little laundry, racing, taking a bike apart and starting the packing process again.

Some quick pics from the pond skipping I will post until the writing is complete:::::

What I didn't get to do during the race:::

What I did get to do:::

And:::

Between the last 2 and the run, there was about 23.5 hours more of riding, hurting, trying to eat, heat and putting one pedal in front of the next. Monday was the best day of my life and I will re-visit it in my mind again and again making the sea bluer, the gelato sweeter and the friends and locals more and more true to life:::

SSUSA

2009-05-18T20:48:00.002-07:00

FC landed in this field for the weekend events of Single Speed USA. The races went beautifully, and the event was super FuN. Not Slowhio Rob hosted the party, beginning with a short track on Saturday afternoon, followed 6 hours later by a nighttime Time Trial....Sunday morning brought the XC followed by the mini-kids-Barbie bike derby (the "decider" event). I felt surprisingly brisk for both Saturday events, thinking that my endurance (not my *pop*) would be my stronger suit this weekend. That may still have been true, but I didn't feel as terrible as I imagined I would after my marathon hike-a-bike/adventure race at DSG.

The *races* turned out Okay----I somehow pulled a win for each....and hilariously got my a*% handed to me during the Barbie bike derby. Shanna Powell and Kylie Krause came out to represent Pisgah and the women's division. During the derby, Shanna threw a fiesty elbow my way and I ran into an orange cone, going OTB....ha ha.....wasn't able to pull it back and got punked. It turned out great---Shanna is the 09 Single Speed USA champ (complete with belt) and I won the best shwag of the year so far....a case of beer ;)
Dejay rocked out the SSUSA title for the men and also won the rights to put it on for 2010. Plan to be in Tucson for the event......combined with SSAZ, it will go off on February 6 2010 (note 2:1).

Chip Meeks (who did 5 laps at DSG last weekend), you should come, but please remember that gu shots leave terribly uneven tan lines if you leave them hanging out of your chamois.......

Still pulling remnants of last weekend out of my bike. This crank arm/chainring was set-up on my single speed.......which did all of *one* 11 mile lap (and probably was ridden for 2 miles, tops). Oh yeah, it was then taken to the car wash and pressure washed before being brought to the bike stand and completely taken apart. Nuff said.

Tomorrow the crew and I head off to Italy for a week. We spent today packing and prepping---- actually we spent most of the day drying out our belongings from the weekend rains. Apparently GA has about 180% humidity this time of year.....It might be an ongoing battle to keep the masonite on the ceiling....and the mildew from taking over everything else. Meanwhile, I'll be happily enjoying sites of the Medditeranean, gellato, vino, and the best pesto pasta you could imagine.....heaven....home away from the American Jar.

Fun Club Vol. 1

2009-05-15T05:07:00.003-07:00

The weekend ahead promises to be a good setting for opening the annals of Fun Club... at Single Speed USA/SS Georgia State Championships in Athens, GA.

Fun Club is hanging out in Athens, recovering from traumas to bike and body, and awaiting the weekend.
Mud dreams continue to haunt me and I clearly have a small case of PTSD. I grab my brakes and cringe at mud puddles. I've broken out in an amazing rash of poison something-or-other, in some odd places. I can only figure that the oils seeped through my clothing when I tried to wipe my muddy paws clean.

Following the Fun at SSUSA, the traveling crew will head to Italy, to compete in the 24 Hours of Finale. Admittedly, I've begun mentally preparing for this solo effort. Oh wait, I bought some dried "chicken" noodle soup to take with me. I figure any preparation I make this year will put me at an advantage, seeing as last year I decided to do this race the day before.

If you really want a single speed...single speed you will make.
Wish luck. I'll keep posted if folks can follow along online and whatnot......

DSG 2009

2009-05-11T09:12:00.012-07:00

Dirt, Sweat and Gears 2009...
The dumbest thing I've ever done next to my bike.

We should have called the race and started naked wrestling and making MUD Angels, since we weren't actually bike racing. But since that didn't happen, I just continued forward in the sloshing, silly mud, listening to 90% of the racers and their support crew getting progressively drunker.

Danielle Musto's mid-race interview does the most justice to the insanity of the day.
Many photos and other videos make it seem like you could actually ride/push/carry your bike through the mud, but let me assure you, it was not the case. Lap 1 was rainy, and therefore rideable. Starting halfway through Lap 2 the trail started drying out and the nightmare began..... turning 1+ hour laps into 3 hours of hiking, dragging and sloshing your bike through 3-6 inches of peanut butter mud. 22 pound bikes turned into 98 pound bikes.....

This was Lap 3 when I took out my One Nine with the goal of carrying it the entire time. I rode about 2% of that lap

And still managed to collect 30 pounds of mud

This was my Air Nine before the race. Fortunately, I didn't completely kill my bikes. Maybe it was because of last year's mini mud fest....it gave me the foresight to pick up my bike the second it started getting tacky and run with it.
I wish I had a pic of my bike on the last (4th) lap I didn't have to do. Dejay put a skinny tire on the back wheel and fashioned a carrying harness from his cable lock and a towel duct taped to the middle of it. I crammed a spatula into my chamois leg and went at it. It went like this-Ride til I can't because of the mud. Stop. Scrap bike with spatula. Pick up bike and hike/run with it. Get tired/sore and try riding again.
This 12 hour bike race left my shoulders hurting more than my legs....and left me hungrier than at any 24 hour solo effort I've done. Maybe it's because I couldn't eat and carry/push my bike at the same time, or because I ran out of food when laps tripled in time.

Memories:
-Two different bikes on two different scales weighed in at 100 pounds after doing a lap. That made me feel tough.
-On my 2nd lap, I watched a racer dude ditch his bike and play slip 'n slide down one of
the hills on his belly
-Dicky mud fight
-Finishing the race with 38 or so miles
-Quitting my last lap 1.5-2 miles before the finish

Cycling Dirt has hours worth of entertaining coverage of the event, including photos galore and interviews of racers. Check it out.

Other Desert

2009-05-10T17:49:00.005-07:00

I wish I had written more about the desert since moving to Tucson. The unique features (eh em, cactus) that got my attention when first moving just scratched the surface of it’s beauty, and I had no idea until the last couple of weeks how true this really is.

“Not summer” in Tucson is easily addictive and beautiful, especially if you love riding. You can pretty much count on the weather allowing a ride on any given day. Local favorites like lard-based tortillas and sonoran dogs (hot dogs wrapped in bacon then deep fried and covered with about 10 toppings including mayonnaise) can be enjoyed while you get a tan. Then came the two weeks of spring...Tucson-style. Desert flowers started blooming and the landscape actually became kind of green. Winds started picking up during the day and become strong enough to knock you off your bike. In the past couple of weeks it’s just started transitioning into the end of the spring (as a non-local I can’t really say summer). In colder climates, people hunker down for the winter. In Tucson, people hunker down for the summer. Just before leaving, I’d started seeing the signs of a culture that has adapted to 115 degree days and 100 degree nights going into survival mode. I noticed it first with people waiting for the city bus. Whereas they used to hang out near the enclosed stop, chatting it up, the people now cluster into little squares of shade cast by signs, and no one is talking. Rudi started talking of riding his bike to work with his mouth closed…to conserve water.

I got up at 5 am to ride my bike, before it got too hot… and the ugly cycling tan I usually don’t acquire til August was well in place by April. I became suddenly obsessed with Slurpees and was able to take down an entire 50+ ounces of lake #6 and red dye #40 and a variety of other cancer-causing chemicals in order to quench thirst...... I now understood why all gas stations have at least one wall dedicated to these thirstbusting machines. All of these “pre-summer” changes seem to be much more than a scattering of events here and there--- being in the desert represents an entirely different culture…..

It is a truly beautiful and amazing place........one in which “the wash” is a place to walk in or kayak in, depending on the day, one in which an unacclimatized human should never order spicy #5, and one where the local zines tell tales of the tons of trash (literally) dumped in the desert by crossing illegals.

Wiki pinata on her birthday

Last ride in Tucson was a beautiful climb up Mt. Lemmon via road bike

Desert squirrels....they're hiding on the trunk of the tree if you look closely....

Right now, however, I am crossing through the different climates of our country, and my body is in shock. I’d forgotten how moisture in the air feels on my skin and in my nostrils. It’s amazing to be reminded of the many shades of green that exist in ‘normal’ climates. I don’t have perpetually dry boogies anymore. Weird.

Floods in Arkansas

Heading to Tennessee for the 12 Hours of Dirt, Sweat and Gears.....we shall see what that adventure brings....

Hey-ro Whiskey 50

2009-04-27T21:15:00.007-07:00

This past weekend found me not blazing across the country to get to the Cohutta 100, as planned, but driving my little honda up to the fine town of Prescott, AZ for the Whiskey 50. I gave up 80 miles of dirt road climbs that would leave me too exhausted to enjoy the singletrack at the end. Gave up 12-14,000 ft of climbing on said dirt roads. And gave up 2-3 insano days of pounding coffee and driving non-stop to torture myself on my bike for 8-9 hours.
Bummer.

Instead I made my way up to Prescott on Friday evening after work. I was greeted by an already set-up campsite, primed bike, and sweet foam sleeping pad. I fell asleep almost immediately and woke earlier than I wanted, but excited to be heading out for a day on the bike.

The Whiskey started off with a "longish" pavement climb that ended with the most surprising singletrack descent. This first climb grabbed my attention as I quickly realized I wasn't feeling so hot and that my start was less than ideal. I've had a lot going on and been feeling sick lately, so I wasn't surprised that my body/fitness was sub-par on Saturday. Surprised, no. Dissapointed, yes. I guess I wanted my Superwoman to come out and play even if I hadn't taken good care of her lately.

The singletrack immediately following the pavement climb was super-flowy and fun, but I ended up stuck behind some slow-motors and it took me longer than usual to recover and get in position to get my groove going. After a couple of miles, the trail turned from rolling climbs to blazing downhill and all of a sudden the giggle monster surfaced. I don't know what Dj did to my bike, or my tire pressure, or if I'm still freaking out because my fork is so amazing, but I was raging the singletrack. 4th place girlfriend had come off her bike on this section, so I had a brief 30 minutes or so of holding the 4th place spot, which changed quickly after 7 miles of dirt road descent, "Skull Valley," ending in a flat-spin for a mile or two. 7 miles of descent turned into 10 miles of climbing and dumped us into a final singletrack descent (again, blazingly fun), followed by a downhill~flat spin-o-ram into town. End result: 1st place Single Speed Female, 5th if I'd been racing the geared gals, including the beautifully elusive Lynda W.

Here Mark kindly shares 3:44 of his helmet cam experience climbing the last 3 miles of Skull Valley. Yes, that is Fuzzy who comes blazing by toward the end.
http://www.vimeo.com/4400639

Inspired

2009-04-23T23:28:00.007-07:00

Until I figure out how to imbed videos from the web:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRlETldGhWI

I'm not speechless, I just don't think words do it justice

.

A Pig

2009-04-20T18:48:00.010-07:00

Last weekend found Dejay and I hauling ourselves up to Phoenix for the annual Squealer, a super-fun Easter celebration slash mountain bike race. Jim Wilcox and his wife Kim, put on the Squealer each year, in which all participants get sent off at minute intervals for a 16-mile mountain bike time trial. It is interrupted 2/3 of the way through by a bunch of bunnies telling you to get off your bike and get on with an Easter egg hunt. Then you hike up a 500 vertical foot hill where you have to find the hard boiled egg with your number on it, and get it to the finish line unbroken....in whatever creative way you deem appropriate.

The weather was surprisingly chilly and the forecast called for rain. In Phoenix. On Easter weekend. Wha?
In fact, we had been tossing around the idea of doing the DUSK til DAWN 12 hour race, in Gallup, NW, but with impending rain we decided it was better to be wet and miserable for 2 hours instead of wet and miserable for 12. Turns out it was a good choice because the 12 hour race got rained out. Snowed out. Mudded out. In fact, it never even got started...and we had a pretty great time in Phoenix. Dejay and I both took 1st in our respective categories (he, Single Speed and me, Women's Open- I was the only SS girl, so raced the geared ladies) and had a pretty great time.

Phil Wood sponsored the race by providing a set of hubs for the winner-WOW. Now that's better than any Easter egg basket a bunny every brought me! Here I am with the 'bunnies' showing off the shiny, sweet hubs....
If you look closely, you can see me picking my nose.

These are sweet. I have not yet decided how they will incarnate in my bike stable, so for now they are just sitting on my desk, blinding me when the bright AZ sun comes through the window.

For the Squealer I got to ride a new DT Swiss XMC fork for the first time this year and was reminded of just how much I love this fork. It has the perfect balance of plushness/stiffness for my style of riding- no matter what terrain, and I immediately feel more in control of my bike with it on. I have been mildly obsessed with this fork since riding one last year and am super excited that DT offered to work with the Niner team this year and help us get these on our bikes. This is where I post a picture of the fork on my bike:

picture of fork on bike

and talk more about what a sweet gouchi piece of equipment it is

and make myself drool
perhaps make you drool as well
or maybe you are bored

Magura brakes also made a debut during this ride. The lines were cut and the brakes installed on Friday, and, disproving all my superstitions about changing equipment the day before a race, they worked flawlessly on Saturday. No bleeding, NO repetitive re-setting of the calipers, minimal adjustment of the lever position, and excellent braking power. I went home the following day and, with a smile, dropped my other (eh-em, brand new) brakes in the Ebay box.

Thoughts

2009-04-04T14:54:00.003-07:00

The other day I got inspired and had a few minutes to spare.....this letter to the organizer of Granny Gear Productions was the result.....
I was thinking that if anyone checking in on this blog feels the same, now might be a good time to speak up. Others have emailed in their thoughts and feedback has been forthcoming.....enjoy

(email sent to heygranny@grannygear.com)

HEY Laird,

Rebecca here. You know, I haven't raced a granny gear event since 06 or so because the entry fee was so high. It takes a lot of energy and time to race solo as it is, without paying out the waz for the ride.
I am bummed that Nationals is now under the gg jurisdiction, and therefore, pricing schedule. That means that the National title I raced for last year cost me at least $200 less than this coming year, and I'm not sure why. I asked you about the high entry fee for gg events years ago in Conyers. You told me the money went toward making the event extra special and having super great swag to give out. I guess I wasn't able to partake in the extra special parts, being on my bike and all, and I left with a $45 Camelback that I could have bought at cost for ~$20. When I race, the aspects of the event that affect me and are worth my money are the timing systems, pit layout, and transition area. I use my own nutrition and the only other thing I am able to see is the trail, which is free.

It would be nice if USA Cycling sanctioned, National events were held to a consistent standard regarding registration fees and operations. If the cash purse is significant, it would be appropriate to post how that prize money will be allocated.....will top 5 get cash? top 3?? single speeds? single speed ladies??? If I podium, will I at least get my entry fee back??? "$20,000 in cold cash prizes" doesn't translate to very much when you have over 5000 participants.
These may seem like nit-picky details but the athletes and racers who take the sport seriously and give mountain bike racing it's image are either living on ridiculously low budgets and riding all the time, or are working and maintaining amazingly disciplined training schedules to make the dream work....and their dream is also yours. Seeing as this is a national championship race, I think you need to consider this population of racers and promote accordingly. I KNOW that if entry fees are lower, registration will go up- and that is what we all want- MORE participants at events, MORE people on their bikes, MORE people smiling and wanting to come back again.

I hope this gives you something to think about- please do not take it as a personal attack, but do consider reducing the cost of entry fees, at least for championship participants. All of the 12 and 24 hour events that I typically participate in cost $125-$150 or less....and almost all have cash payouts as well. One of my favorite 24's of all costs $80 per person. I don't think the promoter is walking away with the bank, but people far and wide have heard of his event and come because they love what he stands for.

Thanks for listening,

Rebecca Tomaszewski
2008 USA Cycling National Champion- 24 Hour Duo Mixed and
- Women's D2 Collegiate XC

Lemon Wind

2009-04-02T16:23:00.002-07:00

Today was 'ride up Mt. Lemmon' day. Not the whole thing, really. Just certain parts of it again and again. And again.
It was fun. Something about a 9200 ft high mountain just makes me smile. You can see all of Tucson on the lower part and once you round the corner and don't have to look at that anymore, you see beautiful peaks and vistas all around. Last week around the same time I rode up much further, but the difference was the intensity of the wind. I could barely keep my bike in control on the descents and felt plain silly while trying to climb. One lady I talked to had been up to the very top and had been forced off her bike, using it to brace herself from falling over in the wind.

On the way down I decided to take one of my more favorite sections of singletrack, just to get in a laugh. My friend Rudi rides everything on his rigid SS with drop bars, so I figured it would either be really funny or at least good ninja training. It ended up being a little of both. I learned that road tires are not only kinda sucky at providing suspension when going over rocks and things, but they have terrible traction trying to climb and stop. I didn't get to do much of either and ended that part of the ride hungry, giggly, and with some of the best arm pump I've had all year.

Tonight: Phoenix vs. Tucson, bike polo tournament, round #1

The Lottie Post

2009-03-16T21:00:00.004-07:00

OK, so things have come to a head, so to speak, as they say.
Lottie, aka the "potcake" has been in my life for 2 years this coming June/July. She has been a ray of light and a roller coaster all at the same time. Sweet Lottie has the amazing ability to make you feel light and sugary all over....plus is adorable and hilariously full of idiosyncratic behaviors. About 5 minutes ago she walked into the room holding a tissue in her mouth and came to sit at my feet as I write about her. When we go on walks/hikes/bikes/runs and she is happy (almost always in those situations), her ears get floppy and bounce up and down as she runs, making me giggle all over. Lottie is also the best spooner I know and takes to being dressed up like a superstar....rocking out dresses and bike jerseys alike. Plus she is an attention mongrel. Loves it, takes it, gives it back, more and more and more. Awesomely and amazingly sweet.

Too bad the snorker doesn't get along with other girl dogs. What the heck, I say. She lived with my mother's female dog for a year with no problems......then suddenly one day......big, bad, ugly dog fights whenever they saw each other- to the point of rabid-looking, snarling, bloody-biting nastiness and people starting to get hurt breaking them apart. Plus, she'd had some bad incidents with going after neighbors and overdoing it 'protecting' our home.

Before coming to Arizona, I looked her in the dog-eye and said it out loud.... "this is it." In no uncertain terms, I decided that if Lottie couldn't adjust to being at our new (even if temporary) home in AZ, that she was going to have to be somewhere else......then a couple of weeks ago, the inevitable happened....she and the female dog who lives here started fighting. Crap.

I, not being a very good alpha, or even a very good dog mommy to begin with, have been in over my head with her from the beginning. I've been investing a ton of energy and trying to make it work for longer than is fair to her, myself and the other people in our life. Needless to say, however, I am heartbroken. I love this little teddy bear to pieces and my lip starts shaking as soon as I think about her ending up in "the system."

Testing, testing

2009-03-11T14:34:00.032-07:00

The Sunday before last, it was decided we should head out to Mt. Lemmond and do some trail maintenance on the newly dubbed "Lemonhead Super Loop." Once completed, this loop would turn out to be a 60-70 mile ride, beginning with a road climb up Mt. Lemmond, Tucson's 30 mile, 9,300 ft. peak. It would then descend off the back side of the mountain on some of the sweetest singletrack in the Tucson area. Next the trail would climb and descend numerous times through Oro Valley before finishing up on Oracle road, requiring a mostly flat 15-20 mile spin back into Tucson. It would make for quite a day in the saddle, and one that would be made much less painful with some serious catclaw removal. Camping plans commenced, gear was packed, and the crew was rounded up. The plan was to hit the Red Ridge Trail near the top of Mt. Lemmond, and hike 4 miles in to a sweet camping spot, descending approximately 3,200 ft. in the process. The four.two of us (myself, Cy, Bike Polo Dave, DJ, and the two dawgs) planned to leave Tucson at about 1:00 on Friday to get up there with plenty of daylight to spare. I had gotten up early to get my "training ride" in, and made it back in time to pack up the Ergon BC3 with my gear and get ready to roll. I and the doggies were only in for one night, as I had to work the following morning, but we figured it would be great for us all to get even one night out under the stars. Plus a hike in and out would be a good change of pace from the riding I've been doing. The BC3 packed up like a champ- I was able to fit everything I needed and more by strapping my sleeping bag to the outside like so:

I think if I had used a more streamlined compression sack, I could have fit the-bag-in-the-bag but for this short trip, the strapped on approach was fine. I love the waist belt design Ergon is using with this and the "BD" collection. It makes me feel all light and silly when I'm epicing and running around the desert/woods/wherever I happen to be at the time. I had a little issue with belt rub on my sensitive, un-calloused hip/upper bum area, but the fine folks at Ergon sent me a few *tips* to help with my fit issue...I will play around with it this week and see if I can get it dialed in for the next adventures. Otherwise, the pack was great. The BC3 and BD2 have become my MO as of late...light, versatile, and protective of my back and bum when I forget I'm surrounded by hostile vegetation and do dumb things....like fall down and roll over in the shrubbery.

With bags packed and coffee in hand, we were off. I was mildly surprised by what some of our crew deemed 'important' to take with us on a trail-work-camping-trip (but should I really have been?? no). Among the items were 4 mexican tall candles, 6 poblano peppers for roasting (great idea Cy!), and perhaps more brown party liquor than I would imagine necessary for trail work. I guess I need to get more imaginative, though, because the bois cleared out all but ~1/2 mile of the very end of the trail in the 2 full days they spent drinking, I mean working down there. From my end of things, the hikes in and out were a beautiful change of pace. We dropped the four miles in about an hour and fourty five (with a stop or two :) and, surprisingly, when I hiked back out at 6:00 am, I rounded the top of the mountain at an hour and a half. Hmmm, had I run up the trail?? I didn't think I pushed it that hard, but my legs belied my story. Two hours later, while beginning my rounds at work, they started talking.....and they said 'owwww'!! I was surprised by how sore and tight my legs felt from the "minimal" effort I had put forth over the past 24 hours. In fact, I'm pretty sure I felt more sore from this hike in/hike out+ training ride than from the entire 24 hour solo race I completed a couple-few weeks ago. After work, I tried to get on my bike to do my Saturday training ride, and I could barely move. How silly, I thought.....my "4-5" hour planned ride quickly became a 2 hour spin on the river path. Every slight uphill made me cringe and laugh at myself for cringing. If you've ever been on the Tucson river path, you know that the elevation change never exceeds 8-9 vertical feet at one time. Ha!!!

You can therefore guess that Sunday's ride didn't turn out much better. It wasn't quite as bad as Saturday, but it was work to keep myself from turning around and heading home most of the time out.

Fast forward a week.....It dawned bright with the prospect of completing most, if not all of the still-alleged "Lemonhead Super Loop." My Boone housemate "Scott" had caught a last minute flight in to Tucson for his Spring Break 09, whoo-whoo. I kindly requested that we shorten the Super Loop in an effort to keep my day under 14 hours and leave me with enough energy to be able to have a semi-normal conversation. The crew from Genuine Innovations acquiesced,

and we agreed to get a ride (eh-emm, shuttle) to the top of Lemmond, cutting out approximately 3-4 hours of the ride.
The descent off the back of the mountain was amazingly fast and sweet....steep and loose with switchbacks and enough features to keep me maneuvering and talking to god pretty frequently. I got to know a new desert creature, known as the "century plant," NOT to be confused with its' milder cousin "aloe." Aloe makes you feel good when you get burned or hurt. Century, when you come into close contact, has the opposite effect of making you hurt real bad. I was surprised by how quickly these piercing needles penetrate deep into the flesh and muscle of my leg....and by how sharp the pain was. It looks like I am getting to know the other desert cacti now that my fascination with cholla has minimally abated.....

more later...

Birthday Barbie

2009-03-06T10:08:00.009-08:00

I was going to start with the fun (last weekend) and move to the gross....but heck.... Let's get into the gross right away.....

I've been a "little" self-conscious about my arms lately. It all started when I went to get a haircut (note: first one in ~8 months), and sitting there in those bright lights with all those girly girls around me, staring at my face that is starting to look awfully tired and puffy......my eyes were magnetically drawn to my hands.....and what was bulging out of them- beautiful, healthy, blood-popping veins. Now to anyone with a needle affinity, my veins would appear like a wet dream (sorry, but true). And even though I adore being healthy, strong and fitter than almost everyone I am around in day-to-day life, there is a part of me that still just wants to feel...girly.
Over the past year or two, I've made a policy out of polishing my toenails to aid in my feeling like a chick-not-dude. Sometimes purple.....sometimes pink or red....I'm getting bored so stripes might be in my near future. The point is, at least I can have a moment or two of feeling lady-like, even if it's just in the shower looking down at my feet.
I've tried to make getting a haircut priority as well, but that can be costly, and somehow my grad school career and bicycle racing addiction leave little room for a spendy fru-fru hairdo. Plus it always gets messed up under my helmet anyway.

I guess I'll make this my "Happy 50th, Barbie" post (you old skank, you). Even though all I did with you when I was a kid was take your clothes off and play, uhhh,....house,.... yeah house........
well, you still got into my tomboy head and, in my weaker moments, remind me that I am just not everything I could possibly be.

I'm off to ride my bike this afternoon. It's kind of cloudy today in Tucson, but warm nonetheless (I'm just wearing short chamios and a short-sleeve jersey.....maybe a vest), and there is supposed to be a roadie time trial going on just west of town. I'd love to check that out and maybe catch some barfing off the side of the road into the cholla. :)

Ghost Trails

2009-03-01T13:18:00.005-08:00

The BF's birthday was a couple of weeks ago, and just like a good girlfriend, I bought him a present I was sure I would love. He had mentioned a book about some hard-core biker girl's Iditabike journey, which sounded like it fit the bill perfectly. I dutifully searched online and found that, for some odd reason, I could only purchase a signed copy of Ghost Trails which I, again, dutifully did. Because it was a signed copy, it took a bit to get here, arriving just before the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. I figured he would be too busy preparing for the race to notice if I took a quick peek at the first page. Or the second.....oh heck, what time is it?? 2 am?? OK, let me just finish this section....

Jill Homer, professional journalist turned endurance mountain bike junkie, I mean racer, held me captivated with her story and her words. She covered her epic, EPIC adventure through Alaska's interior in the 2008 Iditarod Trail Invitational in rich detail, alternately incorporating chapters of life experiences that shaped her and led her to that cataclysmic experience.

While I was reading, all around me preparations for 24 HOP were brimming and bulging. Coolers, water bottles, lights, batteries, food......oh god, the food. My own preparations were becoming more and more concerned with how I was going to finish the book in time for the race. Not only was the material captivating, but I was convinced that JH had some secret to unveil about pain, suffering and tolerating the self-inflicted hell that us crazies seem to thrive on. Or at least I would be able to think about her suffering when I hit a low point and my pain would pale in comparison.

It was suggested that I bring the book along with me during the race, perhaps sneak a page or two on the flat sections of trail. I could even bust it out at a photographically opportune moment and get JH some additional press. I thought my competition might be scared if I came by reading a book.

Unfortunately the outcome in this multi-choice situation would be the infamous (e) None of the Above. In other words, no, I didn't finish the book in time, no, I didn't distill any secrets to help me through 'hell lap,' and not only did I not go zooming by Lynda Wallenfels while reading a passage from Ghost Trails, I did not go zooming by Lynda Wallenfels at all. Ha! Dreams, I mock thee.

I did, however, manage to finish the book last night....just in time to follow the 2009 Iditarod Trail Invitational on the internet, via blogs, message board posts, and the homepage updates.
If interested, information on the ride/ski/run is available at the following site:

http://www.alaskaultrasport.com/alaska_ultra_home_page.html

And at Jill's blog:
http://arcticglass.blogspot.com/

As if anything were more important than riding 350 miles in subzero temps through Alaska, I've had to use this reading as inspiration for my own next adventure. It looks like India is way too soon to be realistic, and since there will be another race there in the fall.....I can procrastinate re: India.
I need to decide whether I'll invest my energy in the NUE series and traveling this summer, or spend the same money on some gear bags and some gear and jump in on the Arizona Trail Race. In April. Next month.
And then, if that goes well, I could gear up a bit and jump on the Colorado Trail Race, ending up in Durango with plenty of time to hang out and recover before ss worlds.... Are these the dreams made of that bubbly, Euro-candy chocolate that melts away in your mouth as soon as it hits your tongue?? Or are these the ones that land you in a position to remember that cycling is about setting your own destiny in the stars and that life is a choose your own adventure book anyway.

24 Hours in the Old Pueblo

2009-02-17T18:11:00.007-08:00

Dear blog,

I suppose this note is an attempt to assuage my guilt for not writing in 3 weeks. So, here goes. Dear blog,
I'm sorry.

OK, moving on. Skip an official post about Single Speed Arizona. Sadly, I won't be writing about one of the best experiences I've had on a bike since TransGermany with Billy. Instead I'll be writing about one of the dumber aspects of my psychotic bike racing addiction, yes, 24 hour racing. Going around dirt circles for a day, a night and a day...what a brilliant thing to do.

It seems like each 24 hour race takes on its' own persona, as if it morphs into some sort of mythical being that, once formed, colors the perspective of my experience from that time forward.
The first 24 hour event I did, the 24 Hours of Booty, (not what you think, or maybe it was), took on this amazing rainbow anima-type form that convinced me that whatever physical experience I had was at least 75-80% influenced by my mind. I'd read that in a book or two, but actually experiencing the 'mind creating reality' thing kind of sets you up for a different life from then on. I mean, like, wow.

Since then, I've had 24 hour experiences that range from insane race pace, "this has nothing to do with my mind, it's all related to how well I've trained," to digging my way out of the pain cave of Hannibal Lector.
24 HOP has yet to really take on an entity I can define. The weirdness that morphs from riding through a day, a night and another day seemed kind of minimal compared to others. And when I say minimal, I mean, I didn't hobble away completely broken... I didn't lie awake totally buzzed from endorphins and seeing nothing but trail the night after..... I didn't compose memoirs, poems and songs to keep me from losing my mind while staying upright on the bike. I keep thinking about when I stopped to eat a grilled cheese sandwich. And then I think, what's wrong with me that all I think about is stopping to eat a grilled cheese sandwich??

I am convinced you can't ride a race for 24 hours without a mind-body transfer of some sort, so I know that out there in the desert I shed one set of skin and entered another, but I honestly don't remember when or how it happened. I ended the race early, completing 14 laps and being lapped by Lynda Wallenfels twice. The next girl back had 10. I had been beaten by 3 single speeders total (male and female).
There were mechanicals too, but they almost seem silly in hindsight...most of them preventable had I put my racing machine together more than three days before the event. First lap, my rear hub started slipping when I put even one pound of torque onto it, and continued for the entire rest of the lap. See?? Just silly.

Well, anyway.
I may not be cracked out, but I'm getting close to out of crack,
and I just got word of a stage race in India.

SSAZ 09

2009-02-01T21:22:00.003-08:00

An entire week out, and I've not written up the event. Pretty pathetic.
Even more pathetic....not writing it now.....

Anything is Possible

2009-01-12T20:31:00.003-08:00

If you weren't already convinced that anything is possible.....here is further proof:

That is, indeed, a dual suspension, geared mountain bike (JET Nine) you see modeled here. What is the greater irony, the rider, the water bottle, or both together? Complimenting each other.

No, this isn't part of the SSAZ course.

Neither is this.
Now the only question to answer is: When you got out of bed this morning was it or was it not opposite day??

Finally a somewhat decent shot of the desert. I have had super bad problemo getting photos that are not completely washed out from the sun. Hmmm, I guess I shouldn't complain about that.

2009-01-09T08:33:00.000-08:00

Mars and Venus

2009-01-05T09:13:00.010-08:00

I've had the great fortune to be able to ride my bike like it's my job for the past month. Many of these rides have been on the road, putting away mile after mile of paved bike lane as the desert expanses stretch away from me on either side and the sun pounds my legs and back. It's been beautiful to say the least. One amazing part is that cholla are in my life on these roads as well, dangling at the edges of the asphalt and threatening to turn my road tires into swiss cheese. Let's look and compare: Cholla on the trail....

Cholla on the road.....

Aackk, it's everywhere!! I believe, though, that my "blogging to relieve some of the fascination with cholla and therefore avoid a collision" is working...knock on dried-up, needle-free cactus... or wood. It's getting a little easier to avoid staring at the cacti while riding, although as I am writing and photo-taking, I am clearly still in luv. Oh well.

Even though I've been spending a great deal of time on my road bike, the Niner still gets attention, 3 or more X a week, usually on the Wednesday morning (6:30 am, what??) ride and on the weekends.....
On Saturday, Dejay and I headed east of town to "design the SSAZ course." This was one of those days where the differences between how men and women view events was clear. For example, what Dejay would call "design," I would probably refer to as "bushwack." The barbed wire fence that I found "threatening to my female parts," he considered a "hurdle." When we reached the 3-4 cattle guard gates that lead you through a maze of brush, wash, and cow pen, I thought 'if I were here during a race I would feel completely "lost,"' but oh no, this is just a "unique feature."
My favorite, though was this: would you call it a "trail??"

....I usually refer to these as "rivers." I don't know, what do you think??
Alright, to be fair, snow in the desert eventually equals water, so these bodies of H2O are a natural consequence of the recent weather and they have inhabited the normal area where the Chiba Falls trail runs. Pretty cool to see water in the desert, actually. It made me feel like I was back in Pisgah, picking my way across forest creeks and rivers.

So the short and long of it.....you'll know you're on course for SSAZ if you see this:

And, unless the next three weeks drains the new lake, this:
Also, be warned. We've contracted with little brown aliens to ensure your ride is as sticky and prickly as you'd expect it to be out here. We were forced to use the SSAZ riders in our negotiations after we came under attack. But don't worry, they aren't as painful as they are annoying. Perhaps there will be tasty beverages to soothe your frustrations if you're not too busy racing.
Speaking of racing, Single Speed Worlds registration is open. All females are guaranteed entry if they attempt registration. I guess that means my spoke card will be hanging around my room as decoration unless someone has another creative idea for what to do with it......

Ch-ch-cholla

2008-12-28T18:06:00.010-08:00

Desert vegetation is amazing. Since inhabiting this foreign land, I have found myself mystified and intrigued by the various cacti and shrubberies here. There is something powerful and enigmatic about these sticky, sharp, sometimes poisonous plants that lurk, oh about every 2 feet along the trail. Since riding out in the land of cactus plenty, I have been re-visiting the mantra "look where you want to go!" This doesn't mean stare at the beautiful prickly pear looming to your right, or ogle over the saguaro while you're trying to steer around it. I've decided to dedicate this post to the most alluring and painful of the daily cacti, Cholla. My hope is that by focusing my literary and videographic energy on it, I can prevent my fascination from luring me off the trail and into one of these beastly beauties.

Today nine of us trouped through the desert on a mission to complete the ride formerly known as "Baby Jesus," which occurred last Sunday. It ended up being a right when it should have been a left, 6.5 hours in the saddle, and over 2 miles of babyhead-litter-on-cracked-out-dirt-road that involved myself and 4 dudes. Today, however, I had the pleasure of riding with another female, Ms. Beth, who enjoyed the day on her Scott Spark, and posed with me to get a nice shot atop one of the "little hills."

Beth was visiting from Phoenix with her father and every time we stopped she was giggling and laughing at the fun of the trail. Super. Her father trooped it up too, pulling this one inch cactus needle out of his knee toward the end of the ride. Yes, out of his knee. Ouch.

Another surprise on the trail today: snow on the cholla. Wait a minute, didn't I leave the freezing cold to come here and enjoy the warmth, sun, heat,...... Eh em, desert?? OK, ok, drama. Even with the snow, it was still hot enough to ride in short sleeves and get sunburned, so no real complaints.

Enjoy. Hopefully these vids depict some of the sticky, intriguing qualities of this desert shrub. I have a good cholla shot that looks great adjusted to sepia....I'll put it up as a header the way Billy has on his blog as soon as I get around to asking him how.

Desert Shreddin'

2008-12-23T09:49:00.009-08:00

Drive over. School on break. Time to ride.

Getting out to Tucson was an epic transfer, for sure. But, being here has been nothing short of wonderful. The weather (until today, of course!!), has been mild, warm, and totally conducive of super long hours on the bike. My stress level went from 25 to 0 (random scale, whatever). I got news that I passed the Praxis (state test required to finish grad school and become SLP), and am adjusting to living with 2 clean guys (sorry Scotty and Josh), 3 dogs, and no kitty cats. I have developed a couple of lists of things I miss or have "lost," and things I've "gained" by my move....
Let's see.....

Miss:
-southern accents
-moonshine
-Pisgah
-trail right across from my mailbox
-CONTRA dancing!!
-snow/ice rides
-Bike polo being postponed due to
snow

Gained:
-Mexican, I mean Spanish
-jalapeno's and chilies in EVERYTHING
-Desert
-cactus right in my front yard
-"goathead in your foot" two-step
-sunburn
-BIKE POLO :) :) :)

For a pictoral list:
Lost: snowy, cold rivers...
Gained: CHOLLA, don't these look fun??

Lost: Linville Gorge

And snow days

Gained: Gates Pass

This picture was taken on "automatic" (I've lost all the skills Billy taught me about manual photography- aack!!) and has had no photoshopping or color adjustment made to it.....Those sky's are natural.....

In actuality, tho, I was feeling a bit homesick the last couple of days....the Pisgah is a place that speaks to my heart and it was really hard to leave. The trails there are hardly comparable to those anywhere else in the country and I was really appreciating the daily/weekly Pisgah epics and the steep, scary tech. I was starting to find a new balance on my bike that was increasing flow and confidence daily.
So on Sunday, when Dejay, Nathan Shope, Bike Polo Dave and Dan the D-Dan and I went out for a desert epic, I was relieved to say the least. The trails were challenging yet rideable (for the most part), and I would have loved every last second of it were it not for spill #1 and spill #2. They left me taking it easy for a couple of days with a swollen left knee, right elbow and thigh hematomaey-type thing. The desert is not nice either when it comes to your arm and leg skin....we all have these beautiful cross-marked scabs running the coarse of our calves and forearms, looking all Jesus-y without the saint part. The worst part was that I slipped into a kind of nasty mental place....my riding suffered and I was not positive. I am still limping a bit, but that is the only remaining negativity, and hopefully I didn't piss off my new friends so we can all go epic again. Bike Polo Dave got to experience the longest mtn bike ride of his career to date, so it was truly a memorable day.

One more thing.....just on the "gained" list:
JUDA

If any of this looks appealing.... get out here on January 24th for Single Speed Arizona, SSAZ 09.

Totally worth it. Just like those little diamonds on the tailbones of Ethiopian babies. You know, the ones with that newborn baby smell.

Peeing in the Wind

2008-12-17T17:40:00.006-08:00

I left Boone, NC at 4:00 a.m. Saturday morning heading west. The week and a half previous was full to the gill of packing, finishing finals/projects, housework, going through a basement/garage and throwing half of the stuff in it out, getting sick from going through a garage/basement and breathing in all the dirt, dust and mildewy mold.......etc., etc. Riding didn't make it onto the list except for about 5 hours. Weird. Combine the sicky time with the snow/ice/rain and a lot to do....It all took me out.

By Friday I was mostly ready to go and mentally very ready to go. I decided to take a 6 hour nap and hit the road early Sat. morning. When I drove out of Boone, flakes of snow were falling, patches of ice were common. Bye bye winter wonderland, I thought, and dipped onto the windy, mountain roads.
My first stop came at 7:45, not even four hours later. Little fairies came and hung weights from my eyelids. Even my fingers were useless trying to peel them apart. I decided pulling over may be wise. 15 minutes of sleep in a hotel parking lot next to a semi-truck and I was good to go.
The next few hours went by pretty well until I hit Nashville and had to make the decision whether or not I was going up to Cyclocross Nationals in Kansas City. And when I say "make a decision" I'm referring to the FINAL decision, not the 50 pseudodecisions I'd made up until that point. The mental weighing went something like this "Kansas City= ride my bike hard, probably puke, get too drunk to keep driving, and extend my trip to Tucson by about 2 more days," or "Tucson= drive straight through Texas, probably puke, have to drive straight through these 2000 miles, but I'll be there TOMORROW." Tucson won, but not without a battle. Unfortunately that included me deciding to go on to Nats, and driving up I-24 for about 20 minutes before I changed my mind. Once I realized what I really wanted to do, I checked my trusty map and decided I could simply take highway 70 across the state and it would put me back on the interstate further down, without having to backtrack. Simple.

This plan would have remained simple except that 1 1/2 hours down the road, I was not paying attention to the fact that the speed limit was fluctuating like menopausal hormones and I got pulled. Dam it. Even with the pathetic explanation that I was from Boone, NC and moving to Tucson, AZ, and was a total newbie to these roads, I was given a ticket and told me to have a nice day. Oh, did I mention that I cried?? It didn't work. Even though it was genuine. At this point I was DONE with Tennessee, but it wasn't over yet. I kept going and made it to Memphis before the next stop.
Lottie and I needed to get out and stretch, run, etc., so we found a state park north of Memphis that looked promising for having trails. We got there around 4:00 and drove through the windy roads til finally stumbling upon the "horse trail," a five mile loop with ups and downs and plenty of mud to get stuck in. Sweet. Lottie and I got a run in, ~1 hour between the 5 mile trail and surrounding road. Stretching and eating ensued in the fallen darkness and pretty soon we were back on the road.....or a road. Oh, hmmm, was this the same road we came in on?? I don't think so.....Let's stop at this gas station, "The Pantry" and ask directions....yeah that one, with the bars on the windows.....and, oh wow, I'm the whitest thing around for about 20 miles....and the feeling that I wasn't in Kansas anymore........ let's see maybe this clerk dude will help me get re-oriented. Or point me in the wrong direction. 20 minutes later, I was still driving around the back country roads of TN, when I started to recognize a couple of landmarks and get excited, "I've been here before." Then, wouldn't you know it, "The Pantry" loomed large and metallic on my right and I just sighed. Then I kind of giggled. Well, at least I wasn't totally lost. I was just about to step into the store and have a little 'recap' with the clerk when I spotted a police car parked in the parking lot. Again the indecision "Get in trouble in the ghetto," or "Get directions from a local cop" weighed in my mind. I went with the latter and within five minutes was back where I needed to be, highway west in sight.

All's well that ends well, at least in this case.....Speaking of all's well, I just learned that "ya'll's" is not a grammatically correct word; I guess "all ya'll's" is the correct conjugation, thanks BILLY.

Arkansas was next.....275 miles of get-through-this-state-no-more-messing-around-don't stop-just-go. My goal was to get to Texas before I was too tired to drive anymore, and even though I didn't want to sleep in Texas, I didn't really want to sleep in Arkansas, and I wanted to feel some sense of accomplishment. I knew Texas was going to be LONG.
What I didn't know was that in Texas there is always a headwind. Always, even if you turn and go the other way, or make a 45 turn; the wind is blowing from the front in that direction also. It is a scientific anomaly.
These headwinds proved to present some interesting scenarios, most of which started with the fact that my gas mileage went from about 48 miles an hour to 10. My trusty bikes strapped my shoddy trunk rack were part of the problem, as they offered mucho wind resistance and every time a semi went passed, they tilted and thrashed around like they were about to fly off. This also didn't help my confidence much.
In Texas I also found out they don't believe in gas stations. I mean, not really. The more oil piston drills I passed, the fewer gas stations I saw. And the further west I got, the further apart these rare stations of gas became. At one point I pulled into a rest area, realizing that I was going into the last 1/3-1/4 of a tank and wanting to be sure the next station was getting close.... It had been awhile since I'd seen one. "26 miles" was the verdict and while I was deciding whether I should turn around or try to make a go of it, I befriended a trucker dude who was hauling a load of cars. He had a very distinctive voice and I immediately placed it as the guy on Arrested Development who played the "body" for George senior when he was on house arrest. You know the guy. He had this very beautiful, strained sounding voice. They kind of looked alike too... And he was from Los Angeles.....hmm, maybe he was a sortof famous actor who drives trucks on the side. Anyway, I tucked in under his draft and made it to the next station with a tiny bit of gas to spare.

The Texas miles were disappearing, but the headwind was keeping my little Honda right at 60 mph, which is normally good for gas mileage...but not so much when you've got it floored, sheesh...

So I pulled over to pee, but I wanted to make it quick and keep Lottie in the car. When I say "pulled over to pee" I mean by the side of the road. I should have known it was a poor idea when I could barely get my door open due to the wind. But optimist I am, so I opened the front passenger door and made a quick duck of it, hoping to do my thing before the next cluster of cars came by. Wouldn't you know it, as soon as I started letting it go, the wind gusted up from under the door and fanned my urine out all over my pants, drenching them, as I laughed at the sillyness of it all. I danced around trying to get my stream out of the dam wind, but to no avail. I finished up, hopped back in the car, changed my clothes and got back to the business of running out of gas....

Which happened as if I planned it. The very next time I started to notice my gas meter hanging around the 1/3 tank, I grabbed my map and started scanning for the next town. Hmmm..... there are some tiny dots that have names and seem big enough to contain gas stations within the next 10 miles or so....I'll take it.....But when I pulled over, all 5 of the stations were boarded up or burned down. whoa, uh, ok, I guess I'll just keep going......10 more miles and another town with a big plant of some sort, oh wait, it's not a town, it's just a plant of some sort. OK, I guess I'll just keep going.....and going.....and chug-chug-pullllll, oh crap, come on little Bobsled, dip into that reserve tank, we're almost there......
I coasted to a stop in the most unlikely of spots-right across the lane from another vehicle that was pulled over doing a repair. "Doug" was driving his pick-up truck and pulling a large trailer full of moto's and living supplies and things. He was headed up to visit with his son when he flatted and was taking his time to fix the situation up right. When I told him my story he replied with a smile, "You're not from around here are you??" "No, I just came from Boone, NC," I said, and to that he answered, "I'm from Oregon myself. Isn't is amazing how far apart the gas stations are around here??!!" "Yeah," I replied sheepishly, "I'm embarrassed that I haven't learned my lesson from the first time...."

Doug and I exchanged some of my aunt's homemade sheep cheese and herbal tea for a couple of gallons of gas from one of his moty's and some kind words of encouragement. Soon I was on my way, and hit the first gas station for 60+ miles that had jacked the price of gas up by about 70 cents. HA, capitalists.

Then I hit a deer.
Why is that such a violent and traumatic event?? I have never hit one before and it stuck with me for quite some time.
People around me said "Oh yeah, I've hit a deer before. It sucks." But nonchalant dripped from the corners of their words and mouths.
Really, I couldn't stand it. Running out of gas was something I could have changed, but the assisted suicide of the deer was not mutually agreed upon. It just so happened that I couldn't go back and pull it from the road without sure death, so I quietly payed respect and sorrow to the deer and went on forward......
I arrived in Tucson at 2 a.m., cracked out, but in one piece. I made the 29 hour drive in 46 hours, with 4.5 hours of sleep, 2 cups of coffee, about 8-9 oranges, and 1 travel station shower. Now let's see what the desert has in store this winter.....

Morning Flakes

2008-11-21T05:12:00.006-08:00

I woke up this morning not expecting THIS:

Apparently, no one else did either because my tire tracks were some of the first to damage the landscape of the Boone roads.....so now I'm in the library because my tires don't exactly read "snow" before them and my sliding and skidding and getting tossed off the road up to Blowing Rock didn't bid well for me making it down the other side safely.
It doesn't look like all that much....maybe 6-8 inches on the roads....but I found the steep hills around here not all that friendly to the Civic (aka "bobsled"), and sliding down a hill backwards is way more out of control than going face first. How did I make it through Montana?? (answer: snow tires....??)

Other fun from the week:
A great hike in the Linville Gorge with Lottie and Trottie:
We hiked for 31/2 hours (about 10 miles), and the only other beings we ran into were two rock climbers and a bunch of icicles. Fortunately we ran into the icicles and not the other way around; because they were nasty looking drippers:
The ride on Sunday was pretty groovy: John Fennel, Ethan, Tyler, his pack mule, Hanky Panky and I shuttled 181 to do a Wilson's Classic: Raspberry to Greentown to Raiders, yippeee! :) Fortunately we only had a couple-3 incidents:

#1

#2
#3: Fennel's tire burp/roll and subsequent tree/rock/ground collision was too brutal for photo taking. But he was a rockstar and got back on his bike to finish the ride. Even though we were only 100 yards in. The rest of the time on the bike was some of the most amazing I've felt in months....new balance.....infinitely more control......super fun......uhhh "shreddin."

This lil dude and I crossed paths last week and I had to halt my day for about 30 minutes to get a good shot or two- his coloring was unlike any I've seen and he was a pretty decent size for his size, ~a dime for his back alone and ~a quarter including his legs.
click to get a close up look at his coloring and markings

Election Night- another late post, whatever

2008-11-05T19:28:00.007-08:00

When I got home from Morganton today, I decided to go for a run to help clear my head and take some of the work out of my system. For the hour that my sneaker's hit the pavement and trail of our local Greenway, my mind was flawless. The air was perfectly crisp, but not freezing, the sky was breathtaking and the run easy. My legs didn't hurt and I started thinking about last night, election night, aka Roommate Scott's Christmas. Let's just say Scott has a "thing" for politics. To be fair, he hails most recently from Asheville and forms this amazing bond with anything that is in anyway cellularly resonant with political events and propaganda. He probably waits in line to vote with the same anticipation most kids have waiting in line for Santa. And I have to admit that this afternoon I overheard him say he "wished everyday was election day." How cute. I heart Roommate Scott and his passion for seeing the following on the TV screen:

As for Election Night Party, we sat in a room full of mixed opinions to watch the poll results roll (or trickle) in. Present were one McCain supporter, two Obama supporters, one girlfriend (I have no idea what she thought about the whole thing), and Daniel Sapp, who did not vote. I will only let D. Sapp's last name speak for itself. When all the precincts closed and CNN decided that the race was unofficially official, we got quiet for a brief moment and listened to supporters out on the street, cheering, screaming and generally causing a raucous. I decided I appreciate the fact that our new president is providing inspiration and hope for an uncountable number of little boys, mothers and families who have felt underrepresented for hundreds of years. I also decided that for the next election I would like a different minority represented: raunchy, foul mouthed female comedians. Therefore my election T-shirt will proudly read: Sarah Silverman for Prez. (picture a white T with purple, silver and red sharpie marker and SS sticking out obtrusively and you're seeing what I meant to create before election night this year).......

Let's see, in other not-news, the past week has been full of plenty of driving, both to Lenior and Morganton, teaching little people how to correctly say "r," and riding bikes in the woods. I am having a blast now, even though racing is officially 'over.' Long days in the leaves, sleeping in and not traveling, and my fair share of generally fun times. Plus more time for studying.....yeah. Steven Trottier (downhiller extremo) and I got to share one of these nice rides down Long Yancey's the other day... the leaves were still poppin, and the weirdness of the NC mountains was, as always, present:

Then I decided that I wanted to take random photos of bunches of things. I like the way this one turned out.

Before I move on and forget to finish my blog for another week.......I want to give a thank you to Mr. Wendover, aka Dan, the president of the cycling team, who happens to have a plethora of talents other than bike riding, racing and presidenting. This includes fixing up his friend's blog with logos from her sponsors so that she can properly appreciate and represent. Thanks DB.

Return from Blogophobia

2008-10-29T17:51:00.004-07:00

I stopped by my Local Staples on my way home this evening to purchase a lovely blue notebook for a class project. When I asked the sales assoc. how he was doing, he looked at my helmeted head, rosy cheeks, and scarved neck and replied "Better than you." Surprised by his curtness, I said, "Oh really, why is that?" and he quickly referenced the cold weather we've been swallowed by. I explained that on the contrary, I was doing great, moving my body, getting some exercise, some fresh air, dot dot dot... To this the man smirked "Fresh air??" and realizing my mistake, I laughed. "Well at least I'm not contributing to the gas fumes and pollution." To this we could both agree.

Rewind 30 minutes, I was studying at the student union with some classmates. I had chosen to bring my Serrota inside the foyer area as I recently sold my commuter bike and felt better having that nice road bike right near me where I could keep an eyeball or two on it. There it was, there I was, and imagine that I turned my back to get something out of my bag, or organize a text message or something similar. Within seconds my bike was gone and my internal switch had been flipped. My friends immediately went to question the security people inside the building and I ran outside, scanning for some creep riding away with my horse and asking bystanders had they seen someone exit the building carrying a bicycle. Expletive, expletive, expletive.....well quickly my bike was located nearby with a note on it explaining that bikes are not allowed inside the building. Wow, I wanted to yell at some uniformed dude more than ever.

Rewind even more....to the weekend....The App State cycling team and I won stars and stripes jerseys as the Collegiate National Champions Team. That was pretty cool. The weekend consisted of 4 events- XC on Friday, short track and downhill on Saturday, and dual slalom on Sunday. I somehow managed to pick up the National Champ title at the XC race on Friday......that was a crazy race. I actually missed the start by about a minute, being ditzy and deciding to warm up in the woods, take my time getting changed, etc. etc. Suddenly the ASU coach was yelling at me "Rebecca, the girls just started!!" and I ripped my sweatpants off and charged across the field to the start line, thinking Oh Crap, now I've really got a lot of work to do. I managed to pull ahead of the field of ladies, leaving only the leader in front of me with 2 laps to go. I really didn't know who I was racing against, seeing as I missed the start, nor did I realize that the race officials had shortened the race from 4 to 3 laps. So, when I passed the leader halfway through the 3rd, I was figuring that I needed to keep it steady for a whole other lap. Boy did I GRIN when I came through the finish line and heard the announcer declare me the winner of the D2 ladies Coll.N.C. The rest of the weekend brought more amazing races and results- Moto Mike

took the Nats. Championship at the downhill race on Saturday afternoon giving the team our 2nd National title- pretty amazing. He and Steven Trottier (2nd place) got down the wet, muddy, slippery Sugar Mountain course in record time (3:49 and 4:01 I think), which blew everyone's minds. This is where I got off and ran:

And this is what it's supposed to look like:

I got 2nd in the Short Track, 5th Downhill (wasn't expecting that!!) and 7th in Dual Slalom. This tied me and Joanna Tuttle for the overall Omnium. The race officials had to exercise FIVE tiebreakers before awarding it to JT- she had finished highest in the last race- Dual Slalom. But as a team we had still been awarded enough collective points to earn the overall team stars and stripes. Last year's National Champ, Kyli Krauss, showed up to try to defend her title, but I punched her in the face and called her bad names until she left.

Lately things have been the craziest of the crazy. My studies have been amazing, but insanely time consuming and the rest of my time I spend staying strong on my bike and trying to keep up with that life thing. I am relieved to be done with the bulk of racing for the year. Take up some hikes with Lottie and some really nice, long rides in the woods. I'm thinking these "gravity" guys might help me get some better downhilling skills too, if I'm nice enough to them. I have to admit it tho- collegiate racing was seriously fun. If I didn't know better I'd consider going back to school for my PhD.....

Lottie was very supportive of the team, but was kind of pissed that she didn't get to race, so I jerseyed her up and it helped a little.

You know that whole line about "better late than never?" Somebody messed me up with that advice....in my unyielding optimism I overlook the importance of making it to work on time, writing in your blog regularly, starting a championship race with the other racers.......details, details. Here's another late shot. Note the really cute little bugs hanging out in my wound. Tasty.

WWW.don'tsinktheboat

2008-09-07T20:06:00.003-07:00

Finally this weekend I started having good races. I'm a little surprised that it took me until this late in the year to start feeling strong and fast-fast. Hmmmm.....maybe I better re-visit that supposed "training program" thing....

I had a little "winning" streak this week- 3 W's in under seven days. Pretty decent odds. The first was at Shenendoah 100 last weekend. It was a pretty awesome race- the course consisted of long climbs and delicious singletrack-definitely the most fun hundie I've done and one of the only with a female SS category- 'preciate that Chris. So my first "win" was kind of a gimmie, since there were only two of us in the category. Oh well, I got a nice wool hat out of it.
That race left me good and worked over this week (but I wonder why, it was only 14,000 ft. of climbing?) and I still tried to go out and hang with the fast-bois Tuesday Night Who's-Got-The-Bigger road ride. I love a good measuring contest. But this week the pace was set at blistering from the word go, and me and my burning thighs kept ourselves company for most of two hours. Toward the end we met up with a couple of other dudes who also chose to ride their own ride and we pedaled up some nice climbs laughing at how the group ride of twenty had dwindled to five or so. When I got home the roommate known as Drew was lamenting that he had stayed with the group for the full 50 miles and said it was the first time he had ever felt like he might fall off the back. I was glad I had dropped when I had, i.e. within the first ten miles :)

The next day, my adventuring partner in crime, Judy, and I went out to pre-ride the National Champs course in Lees McCrae. We decided to tag-team the course and learn it inside and out. After last year, though, it may be more productive to start running instead. That way when it rains the entire week before and the course becomes a mudfest, I can be prepared to jump off the bike and cyclocross the whole event. I believe the winner from 07, one Kylie Krauss, said she ran more of the course than she rode. Now that's a mtb national championship event. Anyway, during the ride I managed to strain, sprain or slightly pull a muscle in my leg, plus my headset was missing a spacer and I kind of felt like I wanted to die or never ride my bike again, so I ended the masochism an hour and a half in, went back to the car and stretched.

If the sillyness would have only ended there.... but no, Thursday was a new day, with plenty of time for foolish choices. Since I didn't sufficiently learn my lesson on Wednesday, I thought I would join in on weekly bike polo Thursday night. No matter that I wanted to cry at any thought of pedaling and that somehow my legs were STILL sore. I guess I'm one of those hard headed types. Even so, bike polo ended 45 minutes after game on. I was one goal away from peacing out due to being tired and crabby when another rider and I got tangled and I limped off with a good knocking in the knee and ribs.

So I finally got the point and didn't ride at all on Friday. And I went to bed at 10:00.

Saturday dawned too early, but at least I didn't want to die anymore. I stumbled around my house for an hour or so and then headed off to Dark Mountain for the first of many collegiate XC races. I generally hate these short blazing races, and I couldn't imagine that I'd go fast with the week I'd had, but by just finishing I would pull in some enormous amount of points for the ASU team, so what the hick, I gave it a go. It was pretty funny. I won by 10 minutes. Over an 18 mile course. And it was really hot. But it let me know that I still had some punch, even if I felt worked, and made me wonder if worked is a good way for me to go into races.....
Even so, I thought the Rivers Edge Marathon Southeast Championships this morning were going to be a minute to minute battle with myself....
but wrong again. I turned 6 laps (8.6 miles each) in crazy temps (94-100 degrees). And apart from the heat and my inability to eat anything during the race, I had a relatively easy go of things. My lap times were amazingly consistent-within a 2 minute range of each other, and fast enough to smoke the women's field and all but 6 of the men's field. Plus I met my goal of a sub-5 hour finish. I ate 2 half-flasks of gel plus an individual packet, a quarter of a banana and a bunch of cliff electrolyte drink. And I scored a dynamite trophy of some dudeslice downhilling his huffy bike with bar ends (picture to come). now if I can just get that flogging molly song out of my head....

The Recent and SSWC09

2008-09-01T17:00:00.003-07:00

I got back from NapaVille with a surprise couple of days to spare before busyness ensues. JUDY and I took the opportunity to explore some semi-local trails in the Damascus, VA area. Super sweet as it turns out…..

Yes, that is a stick someone placed in the middle of the log jump. I don't exactly get the logic there.

We headed out on Thursday afternoon, following 5 days of incessant torrential downpour. These floody rains have been the result of hurricane landing last week. JUDY and I chose a ridgeline ride that would mostly be undamaged by our riding and would have great drainage so we would spend more time on our bikes than off. One of the great things about JUDY is her true adventuresome spirit. We set off for the ride just after the rain re-started, and made our way up the first singletrack climb, laughing about the challenge of climbing wet roots and rocks in the rain. After an hour or so we met up with some local mountain biker dudes who directed us toward the “best loop” and we headed that way. I wasn’t sure if dudeslice was messing with me cause he also said his name was BJ. But as it turns out, BJ was true and we made it back in epic time to dip in the river before heading home. Rainforest ride:

SSWC was as blurry as it was dusty. I got to take home a couple of momentos:

Rachel Lloyd and Carl Decker got inked, and everybody else got wasted. In more ways than one. The race was HOT and climby. I was given plenty of beer to help me stay hydrated, and dollars to help offset spendy Napa (probably cause of my awesome costume- thanks Tanner ☺ ). The weekend was blurry. Highlights included checking out the Suicide Cliffs below the Golden Gate Bridge, catching up with friends old and new, bowling for Durango (the Decider Official), riding some very legal local singletrack, and drinking with the Surly guys. Plus I scored a new-in-the-box Fox fork for my decision to race in fishnets and a purple dress.

I’m willing to bet that SSWC09 will be EPIC. Those brothers are going to make Single Speed history. Be there.

The Fuzz

2008-08-28T05:56:00.004-07:00

A mucho big, huge gigantic THANK YOU to Fuzzy John Mylne. Thank you for DRIVING a ridiculous amount of hours, supporting us at Nationals, and for being awesome in the face of raising a one-year old around a bunch of people squeezed into a trailer. Also thanks to Christina for being a saint and an amazing mother. I heard it through the grapevine that you got mad African dance skills.

Dakota Wonderland

2008-08-09T21:10:00.006-07:00

The first half of the week was spent in what I started calling "turn clinic." After Nationals, the caravan (with me aboard) headed to the lovely city of Minneapolis, where we got to spend some time hanging with the homey's, riding the local trails, and getting fussed at by grumpy locals. Good times, for the most part. Minneapolis seems to have a pretty strong metropolis bike culture, which is something I've realized that I miss, living in the North Carolina mountains. Anyway, "turn clinic" began at Nationals with the singletrack being a bit techy, but mostly turny, and extended into the trails in Minn.....not a bit techy and all turny. OK, ok, I get the message. I need to work on my turning skills. Done. I feel like a new turny lady. So much so that I got ballsy about all my new bike skills and rode across this ridiculously wide bridge even though it was long enough to make me question whether or not to 'commit' to it. After I was on it I thought duh, wow, girl, learn to ride a bike perhaps.

So next it was off to North Dakota, one of the few states I had yet to officially visit. Turns out (ha ha) it's a beautiful state with a huge variety of terrain and plenty of trails to ride through it. We parked at one of the campgrounds near the Maah Taah Hey trail- a 94 mile point to point that winds up and down these amazing mesa type structures and canyons that cut through Little House on the Prairie. Pretty sweet.

Our first ride of the day was more joke than ride. For some reason we got antsy and thought it would be a good idea to leave the trailer after the rain started. There are reasons why most people ride before the rain starts, or after it ends. All of these reasons and more became emminently apparent within 5 minutes of being on the bikes. Anyone remember the mud conditions at Dirt, Sweat and Gears this year?? This was like DSG on acid, or coke, or both, hell, whatever. Riding was almost impossible, then it was impossible, then carrying the bike was almost impossible. Then carrying the bike was impossible. Then I spent five minutes trying to clear the rocks, adobe and sticks out of my chain (yes, my chain), and off my tires, so I could move the bike with me on it, getting enough speed up to fling the poo off. Well, this worked for about 10 seconds, until the slip and slide I was riding down flung me into the sage brush. Oh hell. I caught up to Dejay who was wandering around like he was looking for the answer to life, the universe, and everything else, and we made our ways back toward camp.

Hour one= .5 mile out, .5 mile back.

Hour two= scrub the adobe brick from my bike and hope that I haven't ruined all the juicy parts of my steed

Now it was going on 3 o'clock in the pm, but dammit, I wanted to ride!! So Dejay and I (minus Fuzzy, who we had lost in the monsoon), headed off to pedal up the road and see what adventure we could get ourselves into...... 4 miles of gravel to 10 more miles of paved road....hey, at least we're pedaling and not pushing!!! Next thing we knew, we were at the other end of the piece of trail we started on this morning- but the sun was shining, the trail was dry and dusty, and the sky was blue. So we decided to head back on the trail and pray it didn't get mucky again. Fortunately the rest of the ride was brilliant. The landscape was amazing and constantly changing...... prairie meadows with double track and prickly pears- crumbly oreo cookie rocky cliffs- sandy plains like the face of the moon- loose, rocky switchbacks with trees all around. It was pretty dynamic to say the least. At one point we ended up in a near cattle stampede....I thought I might try running with the bulls, but they were cows, so I didn't feel nearly as Euro as if they had been bulls. And I was in Spain.
In the end we rode about 40-ish miles and made it back in time to clean up in the 30 degree water pump, before eating a big plateful of salad and goat cheese spread. It's all love. I couldn't ask for more.

24 Hour Nationals

2008-08-06T20:06:00.003-07:00

OK, well, the month(s) of working myself silly and waiting for school to come to a close finally did just that. Fortunately, it wrapped up with a bang at 24 Hour Nationals in dairyland, USA; Wausau, Wisconsin. The rolling theme for the weekend was something cheesy like "got (chocolate) milk?" which reminded me that I love that stuff and made me wish I had bought some for the race. Or that they handed out freebies....

Anyway, Dejay and I entered the "duo" (2 person) "mixed" (guy and gal) category; one of nine categories that awarded national championship jerseys to the winners, and one of 29 categories overall. Our main competitors ended up being Mario Correa and Heidi Volpe, another "Sho-Air" team; we were the "Sho-Air/Niner/Wake Racing" team and they were the "Sho-Air/Sonance/Rock and Road" team. Mario had won the mixed duo category last year (different teammate), so he was familiar with the course and with 24 hour racing as well. Heidi, I was informed, was a fast-riding, expert-winning lady, so we knew we had our work cut out for us from the start. We spent the first half of the race battling it out with the two of them and doing our best to open up a gap. Before nightfall, we had put only 10 or 15 minutes on their overall time, and decided to try to increase that to at least 30 by sun-up. That would leave 4 hours in the morning, in which they would have to cut 8-10 minutes out of each remaining lap....pretty tough odds. Fortunately, Dejay and I both rode strong through the night, so that goal was met, including my one and only "mechanical" lap.....
I had put a new chain on my bike the day before and was having a bit of chain stretch (go ahead, question the integrity of my judgment, I did). On my 5th lap, moving into darkness, my chain kept popping off. Instead of doing what I often do and trying to "ride through it" to the pit, I jumped off after a couple of incidents and pulled out my tool bag to fixer up. I had too much lap left to want my chain popping off every other pedal stroke. In my haste, I neglected to realize I wasn't undoing my eccentric bottom bracket screws enough to let it free-float and was wasting a lot of time (and energy) trying to get my bottom bracket to "unstick." Ha! Silly I was. Silly enough to break the end of my multi-tool off trying to pry the BB into place. And lucky to realize my sillyness in enough time to fix it and be on my way without costing my team more than 3-4 minutes (or a broken bike). Fortunately, that was the only mechanical dealt during the 24. We each had a wreck or two, but made it out with no serious injuries, and were able to pull into the morning with a solid 32 minute lead. We put in three more good laps, and a very conservative last lap (1:23!!!). I rode insanely slow on that lap, eating into our lead, but with the mindset that the race was won, unless I did something to lose it!! And I was understandably a bit tired at that point, so a careless, fatigued move could have cost me a trip over the handlebars, or a broken bike......
When I rolled across the line at 9:44, there remained the possibility of having to do another lap. Heidi was still riding and if she made it in before the cut-off (10:07), then she or Mario could go out for one more lap, contending for 1st place. Mario had already cleaned up and changed into his civies, shaking hands with us and offering friendly congratulations. Dejay and I stayed in our chamois and shoes, however, just in case Heidi had a different plan. You never really know about these things, and it would have been a silly mistake had we let her roll on through the start and complete another lap while we were at the pit drinking beer and giving each other high fives. As it turned out, Heidi rolled across the finish line on her final lap 1 minute and 7 seconds after the 24 hour cut-off, and apparently with no plans to attack on another lap even if she had come in sooner. So, hugs and kisses all around, we cleaned up, ate a bit of food and made our way to the awards ceremony...where we bestowed the SS category winner his due jersey (picture forthcoming). All in all, it was a great race- the trails were super fast, spinny and fun, we got to spend time with friends from afar, and we each earned the stars and bars, which brought with it a couple of medals, custom coffee mugs, cycling shoes, and a bad-ass milkshake maker. Could hardly ask for more.

A lil GROUCHO wisdom

2008-07-28T19:03:00.010-07:00

For the past month or so, my time spent on the bike has mostly been in the form of this thing they call "training." Hmmm, yes, THAT thing. I'm not entirely convinced that TRAINING has been helping me all that much. I've learned how to do these sharp, stingy things called 'intervals,' (yuck!) that just leave me wanting to ride my bike all dern day. Then I end up doing a lot of this other thing they refer to as "resting," and, while my body feels awfully fresh and sometimes springy, my mental state is a little out of whack (that may also be the College). This could end up working in my favor, as it looks like I'm interested in doing races all the way into late November or December. Perhaps having a serious p-a-u-s-e in the middle of the summer was a breath before the storm. Or an eye of fresh air, or sumthing.

Anyway, my theory for the weekend was that a more "distinguished" look might help my zippiness on the trail. I've seen it work for others.... And here we were, at the Fontana Dam Jam, with nothing to do but get a lil dolled up before the race....

See, check it out.... Right before the race, Kylie hits me up with a little stache love.

We line up at the start and I'm thinking at least I might confuse the other girls into thinking I'm a dude, then they won't try to pass me. As soon as Big Guy blew the whistle, us lady expert-pro's were off, and I knew I had to blaze up the first hill or risk being stuck behind the geared bikes. So I did, opening up a pretty sweet gap off the front. Up the first series of hills, around a few turns, and through a false downhill I'm sweating it up and loving being in the lead. As soon as I got to the second series of climbs, wouldn't you know it, my stache starts drooping off at the end- sweat got the better of me (and maybe my "interval" was over)!! In less than a minute, my little piece of Groucho had nearly fallen halfway off and 2nd place had my wheel.

From there on it was all a struggle... Halfway through the 2nd lap, I submitted to my fate and peeled the last dangling piece of tape off my upper lip. I guess I was just sick of hearing my breathe rattle past it. This must have given me a second wind, cause I perked up enough to pass one lady and get Kylie back in my sights. I ended up finishing 2nd expert, 4th overall, but I can only imagine what it would've been had my little potato stache stayed in it's place, and I'd spent my days chasing my boy-friends around on bikes instead of doing dingy intervals.

BOARD, yes bored

2008-07-24T13:42:00.004-07:00

It's a thing I truly wish I could be right now...... I won't begrudge the details of 6:30/7 a.m. to 10/11 p.m. school days. But I will gladly say it's the last time I'll have to do a summer of graduate school!!
And in one week, I'll be heading out to Wisconsin for Nationals (24 H). It should prove to be a great party with all the folks I feel normal around. Then it's an even bigger party at single speed worlds, with the rest of the folks I feel even more normal around. So, no more complaining out of me... I've got a bit of summer left to enjoy :)

If you happen to be one of those (dare I say 'lucky?') folks with extra time to kill, I will live the beautiful life vicariously through you...... and offer you these tidbits of brain fodder to fill your time.....

http://wecansolveit.org
Al Gore's inspiring speech on taking steps to solve the climate crisis

http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs13/f/2007/077/2/e/Animator_vs__Animation_by_alanbecker.swf
(better with the volume up)

http://www.dothetest.co.uk/

FARMER'S MARKET

2008-07-05T15:22:00.003-07:00

Lately my favorite part of the week has been the farmer's market. There is something endearing about pedaling over, getting coffee and a pasty, and beginning the rounds.... Haggling, story telling, getting educated on finer things like garlic flavored goat cheese. It's just very..... relaxing. I've heard it called the "Saturday morning social club" recently...... I might agree. But you can't really resist having a great day when it starts out with boxes of produce, great coffee, and talks about varieties of lavender. (I know, I know, say I'm a geek)

In riding news, I have had the great fortune to stay home and train the past two weekends. Fortune? you say. Ahh, yes, I reply, it has been surprisingly wonderful. As much as I love racing, I have not realized how much the travel and stress have taken a toll on my overall health and happiness. I have had the last two weekends to SLEEP, eat well, train my little booty off, and still have time to do other things like take my dogs on hikes, ride our local trails, and relax. Next weekend I believe the rush starts again, but it has been a great experience to find how much faster I can be when I get enough R & R.

Yesterday's pm ride started out like this. Bummer, huh? Drew and I managed to keep the dark clouds on our right and evade the afternoon T-storm.

This little guy is not a turtle, but flying by on a bike makes it appear as such. Hmmm, wonder which rabbit hole we would have gone down had we taken a bite??

Watertown

2008-07-04T11:31:00.006-07:00

This month marks the 1 year anniversary of a road trip across the country with Captain Jordan Moore, and also of a smaller event we like to refer to as "watertown." Watertown is one of those things that all kids get into. I think this time it was just the music that took it to the top. I really wish I had a shot of the doo doo who ended up with water in his car. I mean, water dries, yo.

Gondola ride in Telluride, CO. This post is only relevant to about 3 people, so I hope all three of them do see it. And I'm glad my mom doesn't read this blog, cause I think I tried to slide this trip past her radar.

Highlight Mountain Raccoon

2008-07-01T19:01:00.000-07:00

The mastermind behind many an idea, John Fennel himself is pictured below. Fennel is one of those guys whose gonna "not race" until he's eighty, end up world renowned regardless and show up to races at age 75 sporting the best beer gut you ever saw. Just a prediction. Fen thought it might be a fun idea to watch roadies wreck at the bottom of George Hayes during Blood, Sweat, and Gears while drinking tequila sunrises. We thought he was spot on. Then he got recruited to man a gravel road sag station just down the road. We didn't hold his official status against him, and he gave up the 8 a.m. party to be a helping hand. Or did he.......
That is an official looking T-shirt, John..........

And while we were finishing up our glasses of OJ, who would roll up, but Doug??........

Doug started BSG much earlier than all the other riders. And at a different location for that matter. So when Doug rolled through our checkpoint, he was already 75 miles in, whereas everyone else who had passed us was freshly spinning at mile 20. Doug was my favorite DFL of the day (well, the only one), so I rode with him for a few minutes until I realized that I had other places to be. I left Doug to finish his epic ride in peace and made my way to the Farmer's Market......Really, I couldn't think of a better place to be at that point in time. Except that when I got there I quickly realized that the FM was no place for a decently drunk and stinky crazy-looking lady. I bought a plant. Then I left.

Fast forward six hours later, Lottie and I pulled up to Raccoon Mountain, in Chattanooga, TN. I heard something about a bike race going on the next day.....??? Well, we made it just in time for these beauties to shade the mountain with their glory. I swear, I've never seen rain scatter a bunch of "mountain bikers" like it did these Racer Ricks. I guess I don't melt in the rain, so I went for a ride.....

And managed to prick my leg one good time....

I ran Lottie around and then we headed off to find food and shelter. We were going to crash in the car, but once we got off the mountain, I realized we were going to be "gated out," so there went my plan original. Burrito in stomach, we stopped at the gas station to load up, and that was when I realized I needed to watch my step......
Some poor, sweet, white girl drove off with the gas nozzle still in her tank. Glad 'her' was not me. Regardless, I spent 28 minutes in said gas station, trying diligently to pay $33.31 for a tank of gas and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I will just say that I have NEVER been at the mercy of such a gainfully employed, stubbornly incompetent woman as that night, and I hope for her sake and mine we never share any life-time together again. I took the "gas station drama" as a reminder that I had had a full day, and perhaps would benefit from some sleep before racing the next day......

So I bucked up and got a hotel room. Lottie slept at my feet and I passed out in white sheet heaven....albeit at 1 am. Although sleep was good and breakfast pretty decent, other factors contributed to a severely damaged race on Sunday. Perhaps I am suffering from an injured self more than I have given creedance to. No matter- I got some good shots of one of the best race courses I've yet ridden this year. I'll give it to them Chattanoogians- Raccoon Mtn has got it going on. Fast and twisty single, with enough rocky-fun obstacles and punchy climbs to keep it interesting, but still fast. Going back- oh yeeaahhh.....

This looks so much cooler in real life....the right side drops straight off- you can't tell from the shot but when you're riding it, there is plenty of inspiration to stay on the ledge!! After it rained it was all slick and slippy too. Thank god there's still a little bit of mountain left in mountain bike racing.

WTF?

2008-06-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

What an insanely, insane day. I guess when it starts out with a fifth of Patron Silver by 9:35 in the morning, what can you expect??
Well, I didn't expect half of what happened. And truthfully, I have holed up in a small hotel room, hoping that if I am quiet enough, maybe my day will go by and not notice I stopped here. Wish I had my camera cable with me.... would love to show the pic of the gas hose completely disconnected from the pump.
...and to tell the story of the silly sillyness ensuing at said gas station. Let me just say (and leave it at this for tonight), it took 28 minutes to buy gas from Sharon G. at Mapgo Mart on Fourth Avenue in Chatanooga, TN. During said 28 minutes, one of the things I thought about was playing the lottery. Because I reasoned that with my current luck, I would either win, or inadvertently scratch a number card that was connected to a trigger sensor that would set off a bomb, and at least let me get the hell out of this crazy vortex of a gas station that I am stuck in.

On a mundane and probably boring race note, I have had the odd experience of a physical craving this week. A craving for more long rides, for endurance, for, oh, the Wilderness 101..... and since I have a free entry (1st SS last year), all I have to do is get up there (oh yeah, and back again, psha). It could be a cheaper weekend than racing a SERC series race.

Better than racing

2008-06-24T07:16:00.000-07:00

Well, I learned how to wheelie so well on Friday that I ended up flat on my back, looking up at the sky and crying and giggling all at once. I hope the next time I decide to improve my wheelie skills, I remember some basics like "squeeze the rear brake," ride flat pedals, and maybe even a camelback. My vertebrae have become my good friends and I don't want to have to spend my weekend icing them again. Although, it was a great break from traveling and racing!! I was actually thrilled to have an excuse to stay home, go to the Farmer's Market, go for a hike, and get some school projects done. I found a new trail behind my house (the green rain jungle above), got to run my dogs, and slept for 12 hours straight- I think it was a successful weekend :) although next time I'm going to try to just DECIDE to stay home without the getting hurt part.

Introductions: my dear friend Judy (behind me on the bike) and cholla, the scary looking cactus on the right. I wouldn't shake hands with the cholla. I tried and it made for some creative expletives. But Judy is extremely sweet- a great adventurer and lady.

Tipping the scales

2008-06-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

Hmmm...study....blog? Study........blog??......bl...o...g...ok fine, I win. But the books aside for a minute and update a race report. I sure got spoiled during May- travel, race, sleep for 10 hours....EAT, spin my bike, watch Flight of the Coocoos.....sleep another 10 hours. I gotta figure out a way to do more of that!! (next year- watch out!)

So I guess I'm back to racing short XC races for awhile. This shot shows me holding a smacking twenty dollars that I won getting 4th place against the pro girls. Too bad I'm not racing singlespeed class... or sport! I think they got some dern great ebay swag.

But it was.....FUN!! Or something very close to it. We had a Time Trial on Saturday and I started off HOT. Way too hot for having come off a break in riding my bike...I'm not one of those super off-the couch racers....quite the opposite. So about 15 minutes in, I blew up spectacularly. If it hadn't hurt so bad, I probably would have enjoyed laughing at myself. Ha, ha ha-ha, bang, bang, bang. I managed to finish, but about 10 seconds behind a podium spot. Oh well. I was in it for Sunday, anyhow.
Off the start of the XC race, Natasha (see above the #1) wrecked against a tree. Whoops. Major props to her for picking up and pulling into first place. Gotta love a tough lady. I was tailing the other two for a good little while, but dropped off after one particularly nasty little pitch. Which I may have been able to compensate for except for all the miles of flat trail. Truly, these 3-4 ish miles per every 9 on the Clemson course were the only bummer. Fortunately, I was able to recover enough and spin on to finish 4th overall and 1st in the expert class.

Far more refreshing than the race, was the bathwater we swam in afterward:

Try not to get hit by boats......

On the homefront, I have taken up unicycling and internet surfing. Let me re-phrase, I have taken up falling off a unicycle and watching real riders do it on YouTube. These are fabulous ways to prevent myself from going into a study coma, and can be done for minutes, (or hours) on end. No pics of me on my loaner unicycle yet- maybe after I can let go of the wall long enough to get a shot. But on the internet surfing side, you should check out the Hell Ride at

http://www.santacruzbicycles.com/hellridefive/voteforpedro.php

and vote for some crazy fool. I know Arleigh from back in the day, and I think Chad is a fellow SSer. One recent evening I found myself surfing da net, I mean studying, and had to laugh out loud at someone who refers to herself as "The Butcher." She makes quite a case for wrecking on a trainer and bacon.

Mas Fotos

2008-06-08T17:54:00.000-07:00

A lightless night lap??

Finale Ligure coastline- this was the unfortunate view we had during our drive between the hotel and race course. Bummer, huh

The race photographers took about 46,000 pics; I think a couple turned out.
I guess I did smile a couple of times during the race- who would've known....I just remember hurting......
How many Italians in cars can you fit on this road?? Take a guess.....

There were a couple of happy moments...especially when I knew I was done :)

Mohican 100

2008-06-05T19:07:00.000-07:00

The fastest way to sum up the Mohican 100- wet...mud...and more wet muddy mud. There was slightly less wet muddy mud than at the DSG 12 Hour. Actually, the mud there only lasted about two laps, while the Ohio mud stayed on my tires all day. Still, the singletrack was spectacular and visiting with friends made the day worthwhile. Actually, the Mohican was far more a ride than race, and fortunately I had other single speeders and good trails to keep me company.
And the five kegs of beer we floated were evidence of a decent after-party... :)

SERC #4

2008-05-30T10:34:00.001-07:00

After returning to the States, the crew and I found ourselves dearly missing Italy….surprise, surprise. Our first “continental” breakfast at a Best Western was enough to make me want to turn right around and live happily as a bum on the streets of Finale….begging for pesto pasta and the occasional gelato. By comparison the fat, unhealthy American lifestyle is so nauseating.
Anyway, I was fortunate enough to have won a night for two at Mulberry Gap, the very best B&B in the South. Dejay accompanied me to Elijay, GA, where we were taken exquisite care of for two days, and given the chance to ride some pretty sweet singletrack. Anyone looking for an amazing place to ride, train, eat, rest, and hot tub MUST check out www.mulberrygap.com. These ladies are downright amazing.
We then made our way to Heritage Park, GA, for a XC race on Sunday. I’m not gonna lie, after the 24 h race in Italy, and travel back to the States, my body was hurting. I looked at the SERC race as a chance to see how much damage I had done during the Solo effort two weeks previous. As it turns out, I was hurting, but not badly enough to miss the podium. I pulled off a 4th place finish…not my strongest race ever, but not terrible considering my state.
Now on to Ohio and the Mohican 100!

NIGHT PHOTO

2008-05-30T10:19:00.000-07:00

This might be what I looked like in the middle of the night.....notice the dust.

24 Hours of Finale

2008-05-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

It all started with a birthday present-a plane ticket to Italy. Dejay's team (“Team NASA”) was invited to race in the 24 Hours of Finale, and then spend a week on the coast of the mediteranean, basking in red wine, gelato and sun. What better way to spend 10 days "off the bike," than joining the men in their adventure, as a supporter, of course. I brought along my shoes, pedals, helmet, and bike clothes, just in case I got the chance to ride a bit in the area....
We arrived in good form on Wednesday, and were greeted with a bag full of wine and foccacia by our driver, Silvio. It was a good thing for the wine, as the drive to our hotel was, um, how do you say… mildly harrowing. Silvio handled the crazy euro roads and tight traffic with finesse, however. He is obviously used to driving in such conditions.
Thursday surprised us with a chance to ride the race course on demo bikes…Niner EMD’s, with gears and, uh, suspension. It was pretty funny to hear Dejay, Fuzzy John Mylne, Mark Challoner and myself shifting gears when the pitch got steep. I could picture the bike gods laughing at this shifty group of single speeders.
Even on geared bikes the course was pretty awesome. Fast singletrack descents, short and punchy climbs, and gravel road connectors with astonishing views of castles, cliffs, and the multihued blue ocean beneath. I was able to climb everything on the short ~4.5 mile course pretty reasonably, and then rip down the singletrack with a huge grin on my face. I love 29 inch wheels.
Thursday night Chris and Steve from Niner bikes rolled in. We missed their entrance as Team NASA was busy having a team meeting in front of the wide screen. Priorities, priorities.
Bright and early, however, we were up, cappacinoed, croissanted, and heading up to the venue to build bikes, set up camp, and jaw with the Italians. It was around this time that I decided maybe I would race the 24 hour of finale Solo. An extra bike frame had showed up with Chris and Steve, and the opportunity to ride was wide open…..hmmmm, decisions, decisions. I was getting ready to flip a coin over the choice when one of the guys mentioned to the race announcer that I might be doing the race single speed and Solo. He looked at me and I shrugged. Screw it, I thought. Who needs a coin?
The next few hours were hectic as Dejay, Fuzzy, Mark, Cameron and myself built bikes and set up pit for a 24 hour race. Finally at 9 pm we insisted on getting some dinner and heading to bed. We knew the next day was going to take a lot of energy.
Saturday- the race started at 2:00 in the afternoon. As is Euro standard, it was postponed an hour from 1:00. I didn’t mind the extra time. Somewhere around this time I found out that I was going to be riding the very first ever One Nine prototype frame. I won’t lie, it was a fast little bike and knowing I would literally be riding history was pretty sweet ☺
We went off with a lemans start par normal and hit the track hot. It was one hell of a race, both for myself and Team NASA. The boys took first in their class, and third overall, pretty darn impressive for a four-person single speed team, although they somehow ended up registered as a twelve-person team. And actually, they may have come in second……..or first…..or tenth…..as you will see in a second…..
As for my race- it was pretty interesting. My main competition, Sylvia Muller, won the 24h of finale last year, with 31 laps. I decided to go out at a decent tempo and try to wear her out early. When I came around after my second lap and Niner Chris was there with a water handoff, I knew it could be possible. I was planning on self-supporting, but all of a sudden a pit crew had developed to help out. These guys were great- Chris and Steve from Niner, Ed and his SS crew, Ausilia-another SS Solo female. I kicked myself into gear and decided to get some work done. It turned out not to be the greatest idea and she and I were within a lap of one another throughout the night and into the morning. I think I pushed the pace a bit from last year, as we both ended up doing 37 (or 38?) laps and my race lasted 24 hours and 29 minutes. Around my 26th lap, I stopped on course to avoid hitting a fallen soldier in front of me. Once I started rolling again, I fell in exactly the same spot he had, knocking my head hard enough to see lights and twisting a couple of spots on my bike. I rolled through the pit and took a break, letting my crew adjust my saddle and true my wheel. Plus I ate a bunch of chicken. That helped.
Every time I asked where I was in relation to the other girl, I got a different story. “One and a half laps up,” “eight minutes behind in second place,” or “you’re a whole a lap behind her.” I started wondering if my pit crew was lying to me to try to manipulate my motivation. Or maybe they were getting wrong info?? Either way, it was screwing with my head and I finally let it go. It’s a good thing I did, because it turns out the transponder chips were malfunctioning anyway. So I ended up in second. Or first. Or, who knows? I may have been riding in the men’s four-person all by myself! ☺ In the end I don’t care- it was a fabulous race, with wonderful organizers, amazing people, and the best setting and food you could ever ask for. We Americans could learn a couple of things about how to organize an event…
Oh yeah, the next day we (Team NASA and I) went out to do a photo shoot. We had to climb up a steep, loose gravel road and we laughed hysterically the whole time. Our legs were like jello and I was barely able to climb the hotel stairs let alone this crazy hill.
Major props out to the single speediest impromptu pit crew ever- Ed was The Master. The SS cheering squad and Ausilia always put a grin on my face. Super special thanks to Mauro, Lorenzo, Silvio, Enrico and Team NASA for making it all possible.