Celeste

No, not as in "celeste green." As in "celestial." I was at work ridiculously late tonight and had the 10 mile ride home ahead of me. I left the building mentally spent, but knowing that at least it would be dry and I could enjoy the Indian Summer evening not worrying about the cold or misery of driving rain. I hopped onto Rosemary and we made our way down the road out of the campus. I rounded one of the buildings and looked up at an amazingly clear sky full of bright stars. The new moon was a few days ago and I was somewhat protected from the city lights, so the stars jumped out to greet me. Biggest of all was the Big Dipper hogging up the northern sky above. I smiled and thanked the stars for their show, for giving me a present to remind me of life's preciousness. I immediately wondered what the sky looked like in other parts of the world and what the stars looked like above Mumbai this time of year. As Rosemary and I rolled down the trail we had repeated glances of the Big Dipper. I felt like a sailor making her way across dark seas and relying only upon the stars and my sextant. With the Big Dipper I knew my way home. I could close out the trees and asphalt and city around me and know where I was headed by the steadiness of old Ursa.

We made it to my parking lot and again I looked up past the trees and the Big Dipper loomed above. I memorized its angle compared to where I left work. I wish I could navigate by the stars only and not rely on human-made infrastructure. It's like a 6th sense is activated and yearning to stretch. Maybe this winter when we lie among northern plateaus and the stars as magnificent as those above a new earth.

Return to CX

I had a dream the night before the first CX race of the season that we were all meeting at The Gap before the start of the race. The other women racers were buzzing around the store picking up the latest fall fashions and I kept looking all around thinking, "I don't have any money...I don't like these clothes...I don't want to buy anything here...". So I go to the sale rack and those clothes are even more tacky (hence they're on sale) and I feel even more out of place. Finally the other racers are done shopping so we meet at a big table and get the pre-race speech. A 1-2 racer I've heard all about is sitting next to me and she makes me really nervous. Will I do ok? Will I kick ass? Will I be as strong as I was last year? I have put so many expectations on myself. The race begins, but I don't see it in my dream. It's over and I end up 50th out of 100 women. The 1-2 racer came in 6th. I'm utterly devastated. In my first race last year I came in 5th out of about 30 women. And today I came in 50th. I call Dane and tell him my sob story. Usually very empathetic, he doesn't really give a crap. "Yeah that happens," is all he can muster. I hang up the phone totally dejected. I'm not what I was last year....

Then my alarm goes off. Race time!

I toss all my crap in the car, put Pomegranate on top, and Janna and I take off to pick up Jane. We zip down I-5 through the Tacoma Aroma and find ourselves back at Ft. Steilacoom. It's a beautiful day! Pure sun, warm temps, leaves beginning to change, and all sorts of old friends milling about welcoming you back to another season.

I was familiar with the course from last year. It was the hardest one for me on my singlespeed, not even taking into account being ridiculously hung over from the previous night's Messman's Masquerade race, where I got to know a particularly dashing masked man. Ft. Steilacoom's course is the hilliest of the bunch. A great big hill in the middle of the course with an enormous runup and then 2 small hills right after in case your legs had anything left. For those with gears they can ask for some sympathy from their derailleur and shift, but for those of us with one gear those 2 little hills suck the life out of you. Last year that was the one place where 2 people passed me. I figured this year wouldn't be much different.

Two warmup laps went pretty well. The runup was dusty and loose and beginning to warm up in the direct southern sun. The top side of the course had lots of gravel road, not my favorite, then the rest was fun singletrack and 3 long straight sections where I knew people would have an opportunity to pass me.

At the start I saw Denny line up with the men and I shoo-ed him to get farther up in the starting line. They had over 60 men and I knew he's a strong rider and would do well in front away from the others who had no idea what they were doing. There were a lot of places for bottlenecks and someone like him deserves a better chance in front.

As for the women over 40 of us lined up at the start. Sweet! It was great seeing everyone smiling and nervous for the next 45 minutes of exertion. Someone asked what the cards were in my front wheel. I said, "They're spoke cards from races that my boyfriend put on. He's in India now for a post-doc and can't see me race, so this is my way of bringing him with me." All the girls around me let out a round of "AWWWWWWWWWWs". hahahaha.

Dane assumed his favored position in front of the women and counted down the final seconds. BANG! We were off!! I tried my best to spin like mad and stay out in front, away from the pending bottleneck creeping up behind me. I did well staying in the top 10, but the shifting of gears resigned me to my slot. We easily got into a line of riders without much changing of position. The first time up the runup, no one was going anywhere fast. We all trudged up. The sun was hot, the trail dusty and endless. People yelled encouragement, but the blood was pounding so hard in my head I couldn't understand anything. I heard Janna and appreciated her shouts, but they weren't quite the rope I needed to pull me up the rest of the way. At the top the runup leveled off a bit, but still had a grade to it. All the girls had a difficult time getting back on their bikes. Wheels didn't move in a straight line, pedals didn't cooperate, people stopped. Once we were off again, the 2 small hills were ahead. I made it up both without getting off, but it wasn't pretty and I almost took someone out by hitting their rear wheel. Lovely.

Once at the top of the plateau, I could breathe and enjoy riding in the leaves and in the sun. I remembered the abandoned building and tower, the twists and turns through the big maples that had left a foot of colorful leaves on the ground last year. This year there were 2 barriers waiting for us. I did a great job actually leaping over the barriers rather than The Tinkerbell. Over more gravel roads and down the singletrack, through the woods and around the field, over more barriers where Jose greeted me!! He was one of the highlights, yelling my name and ringing his dang white cowbell right in my face. There was no escaping him and I laughed so hard. Then it was off down the road towards the announcer (10th place) and on for another 3 laps.

The nice thing about a CX race is the participants get really strung out. I heard there were well over 100 racers on the small course, but you wouldn't know it. I had some people in front of me, but we never got all over each other. Everyone kept their space and passed when able. Like when I messed up going down one of the gravel roads and took the wrong line that bounced me all over the place...two girls raced right pass me and I never caught up with them. It's stupid things like that that make the difference in placing. RATS.

At the top of the plateau on my 3rd lap, I saw Jane hobbling next to Maura with her arm in a makeshift sling. "Jesus Christ are you alright?!!?!" I yelled as I rode past. Jane mumbled a "yeah" and I kept going. I could have stopped, but I knew she would want me to keep going for one more lap. It turns out that she toppled over on one of the small uphills while trying to pass someone. She fell into the ditch by the side of the trail and her ribs hit the lip of the ditch. She was in an immense amount of pain after the race and we took her to the Ballard Swedish ER (such service!). A few xrays, Lara bars, and flirtations with nurses later, the doc came back with his diagnosis. What we thought would be a severely broken rib or 2, turned out to be a bad bruise or slight hairline fracture. Jane's on some fun painkillers and ready to ride again next week.

Denny ended up taking 7th out of 63 dudes. Yo Denny!! Who knew manpris, a tshirt, and a beard could show up so many squids. I did!!

As for me, it wasn't the runup or overall conditioning that put me in 13th place at the end. It was stupid mistakes on my part. Not taking the right line, watching my wheel instead of where I was going. That and those 2 stupid hills after the runup. Just like last year. I didn't get 50th place, but in the top 10 would have been better. Next time. No more stupid mistakes. And one gear will be all I need.

Pieces and parts

A rear brake cable hanger. Ask your average bike rider about a rear brake cable hanger and they have no idea what you're talking about. Why should they? They walked out of the fancy shop with a bike off the floor all ready for its first ride. They have no idea what pieces and parts make up their new shiny bike. It rolls. It moves. They ride and show it off to their friends.

But some of us know the harrows of a rear brake cable hanger. Like when you're putting your new bike together at the shop and think you can finish the brakes up at home. You have brake cables. Cable housing. 4 little farrels. You get home and realize you have no stinkin' rear brake cable hanger. Nowhere. You open boxes and look through abandoned bags, but it doesn't exist even though you were sure it did. That little piece has delayed your build for another day until you can get to the shop and purchase that little gizmo.

And tubes. I spaced on tubes that would fit 32 tires. Something else to get from the shop. It's these little things that the every day rider doesn't have to think about. The fancy shop already put their tubes in their tires. Such a no brainer. But I like having a brain that can figure out what needs to be fixed on my bikes and how to do it. What little gizmo I need to complete everything and where to get it and how to ask for it. You get a more intimate relationship with your bikes, and a lot better relationship with the shop people. You don't just drop your bike off to be fixed (safely in an SUV of course) and sigh heavily when they say it will take 2 weeks. You ride up (because you ride everywhere) and ask for some advice and recommendations and off you go to get better aquainted with your rig. Sometimes the ideas work and sometimes they don't, but that's the fun about putting bikes together yourself.

My new CX machine is almost complete. I'm testing out a stem that I already know is too long at 110 mm. I'm thinking 80 or 90 would be better. I'll get that dang rear brake cable hanger tomorrow. And some proper tubes. And once I'm home and think I'm ready for a test ride, there will be one last minor detail that I've forgot for the build. So back to the shop where the employees will laugh at me and give me a hard time because they can relate. That's what happens when you have to think for yourself.

And that's ok.

Nothing happened today

Unless you count taking my special man and his bike to the airport so he could move to the other side of the planet for a year.

But I am so happy for him. I am so PROUD of him. So many people limit themselves in what they think they can do, but he is limitless. I've learned a lot from him in this respect and it is one of the things I admire so much about him. If you restrict your boundaries, you're only pulling on the strings that tug at the end of your life. Let go and learn and wander and grow. I plan on visiting him this January, which isn't all that far away. I know he'll show me a whole new world and I can't wait to experience its sounds and colors.

And if I get really sick he's promised to take good care of me. I think they call it "bonding." I'm all about bringing people together, but I could do without the intestinal destruction.

Team Caffeine

Today I officially defected from my previous elitist, insulting, condescending team of 160 members to a wonderfully small team of 20 dedicated women passionate to racing and to each other. The lead sponsor happens to be the largest purveyor of store-bought coffee in the world. I happen to have been a barista for them 10 years ago when I worked at the Aquarium but needed benefits (Hey, they were good! Only work part-time and it even covered my naturopath.) While I am not a fan of corporate coffee and like to support the small local cafes, this team does a heckofalot of good to each other and the community. They work on the MS-150 ride and I'd like to look into another charity event with the local community kids. I think that turning some underprivileged kids loose on track bikes at the velodrome and teaching them some cool bike skills would be a lot of fun.

I'm really looking forward to racing with these ladies this year. I admired their cohesiveness and teamwork for some time and when the opportunity came up to defect, I couldn't help but be honored. So we'll hit the CX scene first this fall, then they'll brainwash me onto the road in the early spring (the koolaid sez this is a good thing), and then we'll conquest the track.

I just need to add some Bailey's to my drink.

A really big tree

Zack and I made a road trip down to CA to visit the Grandmother, jump through hoops at the Indian consulate for his visa, and most importantly to do a little nature bonding before his big departure. The hoops were a little bigger than planned which made our time in the woods a little shorter, but meeting a 1,500 year old tree and his younger friends in Northern CA more than made up for it. What a magnificent creature. I cannot imagine what a forest of these giants must have looked like at one time. Touching them takes you back in time, makes you forget anything outside of their forested habitat. Ferns rest at their feet, absorbing any sounds you manage to speak. So peaceful. So necessary.

Surprise, surprise, part 2

As if coming back to racing after missing the whole season from chronic fatigue couldn't get any more surreal, I got upgraded to Cat 3 on the last night of track racing.

The MVA threw us a bone and generously allowed the Cat 4 ladies to do one whole big stinkin' race on the last Friday night of the season. Seventeen gloriously fit and muscled women lined the rail to give the crowd a hell of a show. It was by far the fastest, best race of my colossal racing career. Lots of attacks, lots of speed, lots of close calls. Major thrills in the 3x5. Rock Star Jane took the first sprint, as I knew should could and would. I snuck my way past another girl and took the second sprint at 32 mph (hello...where did everyone go? It was like a bullet train), but then I fucked up and didn't get with the lead group for the last sprint until it was too late and took 5th or so. That last lap will haunt me til next year. Position, position, position. Don't sit back cuz it WILL be too late. Jane and I ended up tied for 2nd overall in the race and she was quite thrilled.

Afterwards in the beer garden, the announcer botched up my name and called me to their booth. I had no idea why, feeling more like being called to the pricipal's office. Maybe it was the MVA apologizing for being such asses to women's racing. Instead I found myself with the USCF official who politely informed me that I had enough points to upgrade and asked if I'd like start the next track season as a Cat 3. "Are you kidding???" I was absolutely stunned. Bright lights, lots of people, even more bikes, and an official asking if I wanted to hit my dream for the year after being on the sidelines for nearly all of it. (That was a yes.)

So I got a tiny line-out on my USCF card crossing out the "4" and replacing it with a neatly penned number "3", her initials and today's date. I'm carrying it around like a proud parent. I keep looking at it in total disbelief. I don't know what was in those vitamins, but they were good.