Saturday, January 28, 2006

January Greenlake Race

Last night's bday celebration ended when I passed out last night and the repurcussions began the second I opened my eyes this morning. Holy hell. What did I drink last night? More importantly what did I eat last night?? I haven't felt this sick in years. I can barely stand up so I go back to bed. A few hours later I try to muster the energy to make coffee and go to work, but....my stomach makes me go back to bed. Must...go....to...work. Around noon I finally get up. Any other day and coffee goes into my system before oxygen, but this morning/afternoon nothing is going down. Must....go...to...work. Why is the sky so bright? It's cloudy but not cloudy enough. Where are the black boiling clouds when you need them? Work. Why is this monitor so BRIGHT?? All I want is to crawl under my desk and sleep. Oh god why am I here. No one else is. Oh I see they were expecting me early. Thank god I have understanding project managers. I slide through another late Friday.

Everyone says that I need to show up to the Greenlake race tonight. DUDE I can barely sit or stand and you want me to pedal FAST for over 3 miles???? At midnight? I go home and nap. Zack calls and says that we need to do the race. Oh god the pressure. What is this whole "need to prove thing?" I need to prove that I did enough last night and want to be left in peace. I fall out of bed around 9pm and make some coffee. I pack my bag (oh did I mention we're going skiing tomorrow too????) and my bike and I'm off to his casa.

11:51 p.m. - We leave the warm confines of Zack's house, 2 blocks from Greenlake. By the time we reach Greenlake we're soaked and cold.
12:00 a.m. - At the Greenlake stadium hiding under the stadium overhang. It's freezing and raining. Not just rain. POURING rain. Heavy rain. Hurting rain. And it's cold. Shiver me timbers cold. We line up for the race and Derrick shouts GO and 20 or more riders are off, riding blindly out onto the Greenlake path. Shit they're fast. Why are they so fast? It's only January. Slow down, man. I haven't exerted this much bloody energy in months. My chest hurts. This path doesn't end. It's weaves and twists and turns. Oh great. Now we're heading around the south end and the wind is roaring in our face. Thank god I brought my road bike or I'd be standing still. I get passed by someone on a fucking tall bike. Not just passed, but PASSED. Like blink and you miss him passed. God this sucks. I want it to be summer. In the summer I'd be in better shape. I wouldn't be cold. It wouldn't be raining. And I probably wouldn't still be recovering from my birthday night of revelry.

Somehow the stadium nears and I can stop. My stomach hates me. My lungs hate me. I hack and cough. Everyone is there so I figure I'm dead last. But hell at least I'm done. As we mill around we get to watch Denny and Aaron battle it out for the trackstand contest. Denny is zen. Aaron is wearing a weird raincape. One hand. No hands. Aaron puts a footdown and Denny wins! The winners are called out. Denny's new trophy is a triumph of engineering. A silver chalice with the Greenlake path etched along the base. The race winner is a sly, closet Cat 1-2 who joined the race at the last minute. And he's wearing SHORTS. Alas Denny did not win the chalice this month, but he does go home with a huge bottle of cheap beer. And me? Shit if I didn't come across first for the ladies. I had no idea. But you want to give me a bottle of blackberry brandy? Hell ok! I haven't had liquor in my system for about an hour so it's time to replenish. Thanks!

12:41 a.m. - Back to Zack's place dry and warm and tucked into bed. Not bad for under an hour's work.

Friday, January 27, 2006

The newest Master

Today beget a new participant in the 35-39 Masters racing category. I am now half way betwix 30 and 40. It's been a terrific ride so far. We'll see how much of an advantage I get over ladies 5 years older than me. Masters Nats? If I ever put down this bottle of beer long enough to get serious and train.

Did spend the happy day with the best gang of biking hooligans a girl could ever ride with. A few of us met at Shorties for pre-ride pitchers and they even bought me expensive beer! No PBR tonight. Off to Westlake to meet up with everyone else. Daniel greeted me with mini chocolate cupcakes! Half of them were gone and some of them were smooshed, but dang what a thoughtful jesture. Off to Uwajimaya for a differnt kind of menu. Sake and bean cakes and seaweed oh my! Then up up up to Cappy Hill to see the new 2020 bike shop in the works. More beer and seaweed for everyone. Alex is going to have a sweet shop there. Perfect neighborhood and perfect friendly shop for bikes in need. We left Alex and his dog Beanie to race down 24th off Cappy Hill. Some of the kids flew down the hill unclipped...in the rain...Rosemary and I leaned on the brakes and cranks. I just turned 35 and don't want to end it now. We regrouped at Husky Stadium then rode up to Pies n' Pints where Zack surprised me with the most awesomest cake ever made: A Guinness chocolate cake with Baileys icing. Holy YUM! He was so sweet and bought the whole cake so everyone could enjoy. More beer, more fun. More riding. Off to the Nickerson Saloon. At this point I barely remember where my pedals are, let alone how to ride. Not something you necessarily want to admit. But somehow a few of us stayed together enough to navigate down Stone Way and over the Fremont Bridge to the next locale. At this point I was done and could only intake water. Unfortunately the grill was closed but - aha! I still had a sandwich I bought at lunchtime. And the beancakes from Uwajimaya! Nothing like squishy powdery mystery globs when your at the end of a night of drinking. Everyone devoured them and only briefly mentioned how nasty they really looked.

Tired. Must. Ride. Home. Somehow. Lordy lordy if I could count the number of times I've had to muster the fortitude to drag my ass home after a night a fun. I've made it this far I'm sure I have a few more nights of strength in me. Rosemary took care of me and navigated home. The cranks turned. The forks lay straight. The wheels kept their momentum. I'm home. I'm going to bed. I'm going to have another great year.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

23 Days

It's rain. You live in the fucking PNW. Get over it. You have a roof over your head and warm clothes and hot food. You are not a member of the Squamish or Makah or Salish tribe from hundreds of years ago who had to endure this weather year after year in shabby clothes and puny shelter and hunt and gather your food. Give me a fucking break you whiney bastards. Go download some shit for your Ipod and sit in front of the computer and whine a little more. If you can't handle a little rain that replenishes the watersheds and gives life to the trees and flowers and salmon then move the fuck away. 23 consecutive days of rain. Oh fucking no! Heaven for-fucking-bid that nature gets her turn to get some rest and soak up some goodness and wash herself of the toxins we coat her with. I for one enjoy being hydrated. It makes my blood run smooth and strong, it makes me fast and fleet, it purifies my soul. Enjoy skiing much? Then shut the fuck up. Enjoy the free, cheap water that flows out of your tap? Then shut the fuck up. Enjoy the moss and cedars and ferns that make this the Evergreen State and not the pallid, gray Northeast? Then shut the fuck up. Take 60 seconds of your precious life to consider what those ever more precious raindrops do for our earth. Drink up, my dear Gaia, drink up.

Monday, January 09, 2006

Where the sun hides in winter

Started the New Year in good form, just returned home from a week in Puerto Vallarta. Aside from the hoards of Large Midwestern Americans who think they're Cortez and have claimed Mexico for themselves, it was a tan and fabulous adventure with mi amore. Temps in the 80s, sunny skies, warm water, pelicans, humpbacks, beachcoming, surfing, mtb-ing, drinking, eating, sleeping, repeat. We fled the tourist hell of PVR and tried to find the smaller, slower essence of true Mexico. We were somewhat successful and my sweet natured tour guide did a smashing job of connecting with the locals and receiving the most rewarding gesture of any trip abroad - laughter and smiles united among the tongues of two languages. Our mountain bike trip brought us to a remote mountain spring where we dipped into the cold, refreshing pools, and soared above the hawks as we climbed above the valleys and then bombed down the hills in a fraction of the time that it took us to slowly inch our way up the dry, dusty roads. We surfed with bronze gods and goddesses who call these warm water shores their home and even got a few nods of acknowledgement and kudos. We chowed on quesadillas and tacos made from scratch in front of our eyes by two women at their stand on a cobblestoned street on the edge of where other tourists dare to wander. We took the local bus and relied on our feet and scattered words of Espanol. Starting out the New Year among new faces and sunsets, remembering what a splendid world it is outside your narrow walls and what it means to stretch out and touch what lies beyond.