Rewards of going outside

I've gotten in the habit on Sundays to sleep in as much as possible, drink as much coffee as possible, stay on the couch reading the paper as long as possible, and generally be as lazy as humanly possible. My one goal is to kick myself out of the house and go to the gym for a long workout unrestricted by a busy workday schedule.

This morning I gloated a bit as I watched the rain pour buckets outside and I thought of the other girls going on a bike ride at 9 a.m. Ha! I'm inside, being lazy, eating a stack of hot pancakes, and cozy warm in my pjs. A few hours later it was time for my trip to the gym. I pulled on my fancy Patagucci water-resistant climbing pants, my big yellow rain jacket, and got my backpack ready for the urban hike. I made it out the front door of my building and the top of the stairs and stopped. It was pouring buckets. It was cold, or at least much colder than my cozy home. For 5 long seconds I stood there and listened to my jeep call my name. "Drive me.....you'll be warm and dry....turn around, go to the carport and drive me to the gym....you don't want to go out there....it's wet and cold.....drive drive drive...."

I shook my head to clear it of the evil talk and looked at the thousands of raindrops plopping on the surface of our swimming pool. "Fuck that," I told myself. "I'm going for a walk. There's always something new to see when you go for a walk outside, something special that people in a car never get to experience. It's the reward for going outside."

With that I continued down the steps and out the front gate. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something on the side of the building. I looked up and saw a kid's colorful mylar balloon somehow stuck on the exterior, gently bobbing back and forth in the rain. Haha! My first reward for going outside, an interesting sight otherwise missed. A mylar balloon that a great blue heron will probably ingest and painfully starve over a week or more, but an interesting reward nonetheless.

Up over the big hill and into the suburbia of Magnolia. The wind was strong from the south, but I was warm and dry in my urban outer wear. I made note of all the leaves still holding fast to their branches. It seems so late in the season for the leaves to still be around, but I'm all for it because that means less grayness until the cherry blossoms bloom in 3 months. Suddenly a hard gust blows in my face and a mass of yellow and orange Japanese maples leaves blows in my face. Their tree is shaking in the wind and releasing all those leaves I marveled at just seconds ago. With the hoard of leaves and raindrops blowing into my face and zipping by I pretend I'm in the Millennium Falcon with Han accelerating us to light speed.

Further down the hill I notice all the crows playing in the wind. One of them darts quickly around in the air and he catches a leaf like its prey, but quickly lets go when he finds it unappetizing. Other crows sit in gangs of 2 or 3 on powerlines with their heads into the wind. I imagine them gossiping or talking about the Seahawks game. Passing by Albersons there is a larger gang of 8 crows cawing at some mashed pieces of pumpkin in the street. One of the crows jumps on a fire hydrant and caws out the loudest. King of the Fire Hydrant. I bet he still has to share the pumpkin.

I go to the gym and do my thing and when I'm done the rain has stopped outside. I head back home and take in more sweet rewards. Another big Japanese maple full of colorful leaves. The Olympics looking like a ghostly apparition through the clouds. A fat gray squirrel sharing another smashed pumpkin with some different crows, he sits on the curb nibbling on the seeds. I warn him to stay out of the street and away from cars. I get back home and couldn't be happier about going outside.

Cedar River Trail team ride

Our team ride today started in the fine town of Renton. We did the Cedar River Trail, which is a lovely flat, paved, mixed use trail that follows the - you got it - Cedar River. Kele joined us and as we rode in a double paceline she coached us through a variety of drills to get us riding more smoothly and more confidently in a pack. First it was just bunching together and getting used to being a few inches from our buddy and the person in front of us. I'm finding that I really need to work on the paceline thing because I'm so independent I've lagged on riding smoothly behind someone's wheel. I can stick on a wheel comfortably, but when the speed slows I tap my brakes and the person behind me chirps "breaking" and it messes up the paceline. I'm supposed to keep spinning, albeit slowly, that doesn't seem to screw up the people behind me. Did better today than last week.

Kele then had us do some one-legged spinning drills. I've always heard of these, but being perfect [cough], I've never seen a reason to do them. I know I spin well. I've been tested and my legs show an even, powerful energy transfer. Who needs silly drills? Everyone! With my right foot unclipped, my left leg showed almost immediate weakness in its spin. After only a dozen pedal strokes it left a "hop" in the rotation, which indicates uneven pedaling. Crap. My right leg, however, was much smoother and only developed a "hop" after 30 or so strokes. Kele pointed out that once we felt that "hop" to stop pedaling with that leg because your core starts to overcompensate and makes you even more out of whack.

Then we did no-handed riding which wasn't particularly challenging. When I was sick this summer and too stubborn not to ride, I'd make myself ride Rosemary all the way home from Sandpoint with no hands. It would force me to go slow and not exert myself, but entertain me enough with improving my balance and skills. I never got good enough to stop at an intersection with a no-handed track stand, but I could navigate bumps and varied terrain really well.

The most fun drill Kele had us do was to practice moving through the pack. One at a time we'd start at the back and pry our way through the middle of the double paceline. It was a game of waiting for the right opportunity to sneak between two girls and quick reflexes and timing to charge through. Everyone had a blast doing it and agreed this was the most valuable and something to do again and again. Evidently this is the way Mason Lake is for the entire race. Good think my frame is steel.

The ride out and back was only about 20 miles so 5 of us went back out for another hour to get some more miles in. The morning was a beautiful and dry, a perfect fall day with peeks of Rainier coated in fresh snow. The Cedar River was high and fast, although well within its banks. There were a number of cute small houses along its shore and it seemed that weren't damaged by last week's flooding. Their yards were full of typical rural belongings like lawn tractors and lawn ornaments. Maybe the river didn't get that high? Seems improbable given the destruction everywhere else. At one bridge crossing we saw a team of Search and Rescue and firemen working along the riverbank below. I initially thought they were out doing Saturday morning drills too, but someone else thought given the number of vehicles they were out for search and recovery. Somber.

And if anyone is still reading this boring training entry, you've made it to the part where I sing the joys of being bonded-less in the winter. Yes, Denny, the girls are free and it's the highlight of my day. No extra Houdini-style layer of lycra, just the natural feel of skin on a tight, warm base layer. Heaven. It's like the release of ripping off your work clothes and putting on your jammies to get ready for bed, but better, because you're going on a bike ride!

Some girls are going on another ride in the morning, but Sunday is my designated sleep in day. Mass amounts of sleep has been the #1 remedy for my low energy (ok, #2....but I'm out of Vitamin Z!) so I embrace it whenever I can. I'll go to the gym later and meet with Kele tomorrow night to go over my training. Over the next few days I gotta save my energy for the 2nd Annual Ride for the Pies on Thanksgiving. 45 miles followed by mass amounts of pie and other Tday goodies and obligatory naps. I wish my Z could be here for it this year, but I know we'll have much more together later.

Dry pavement

I almost choked when I looked out my window this morning and saw the sky. Not just "the sky," but the entire blue, cloudless, rain free sky. Riding to work felt like being in the eye of a hurricane. Too calm. Too perfect. A moment of peace between the swirling storms. Looking upwards, I was reminded of the movie 2010 when Jupiter became the newest sun in the sky. It felt great, but...not quite normal.

Ironically, the papers today reported that this is the wettest November on record and we're only half-way through.

A night with the green blob

At REI tonight I met Mary, Janna, and Rhi to see a talk called "Adventure Divas." We were pulled in because one of the topics was going to be traveling in India. I've never been a fan of the moniker "diva" because it brings to mind the high maintenance, self absorbed lives of Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, and J. Lo. Would adventure divas live up to such company? Turns out they don't, which is quite a relief. The woman who organized this group used to be an editor for the adventure woman-friendly publisher Seal Press. Tired of sitting behind a desk and not reaching out to as many women she knew were out there, she and some others put together a t.v. pilot documentary about the unsung women heroines in Cuba. Once that was picked up by PBS, they continued around the world finding other women who met their strong definition of "diva" by bucking traditional male roles and leading by their own example for the better of humankind.

One of the women they profiled tonight was Kiran Bedi, who is the highest ranking police officer in India. She managed to transform the way prisoners are treated as well as how officers are trained in their forces. Her secret? Bringing yoga, mediation, and a heavy dose of humanity to their lives. She is loved by all who work with her and who meet her. She's won several Indian and humanitarian awards. Her presence is magnetic. A diva? Not in my book. A remarkable woman and role model? Absolutely.

As for the big green blob that waited for me on my ride to REI, it turned out to be a friendly beast, oft misunderstood and lonely for companionship. We spit back at the drizzly rain and laughed at the gusts of wind straight out of the south that slowed us to a crawl up Eastlake. Most importantly I was warm and dry in my polypro, wool, and rain pants and jacket and goretex socks. The secret to wet winter enjoyment is staying warm and dry in your foul weather suit of choice. It rained and gusted the whole way, but being dry and cozy made passing all the drivers that much more enjoyable. While they listened to the traffic and weather reports full of dread, I pedaled smoothly past them and contemplated a hundred thoughts that were free in my mind.

The big green blob

I've been watching this great big green blob move over the area for the past hour and it looks like I won't escape it on the way up to REI tonight after work. At least the small yellow blob stayed south. I'm ready for this weather to end, although it will still be better spinning easily on a bike than stuck in a car in traffic.

A great cedar has fallen

Northwest icon Harvey Manning passed away this weekend at 81 years. Without Harvey, those of us who set out in wool socks, nylon backpacks, and freeze-dried food would not have trees to walk under or icy glacial lakes to dip in. The bears and the fox and the fat bushes of blueberries would have disintegrated under the greedy eyes of loggers and developers years ago. It takes a crotchety old soul like Harvey to move mountains, but he only moved them as far as our backdoor. Thank you for all your did for the woods, Harvey. Rest in peace.

A very productive day

Today was an above-average day for a gov't contractor. I spent most of my day surfing the Center for Disease Control and King County Health Dept websites learning about what shots I'll need for my trip to India. That led to calling around to find out exactly how much being immunized for 5 weeks is going to cost me. I had visions of standing in front of the KC Health Dept downtown on 4th Ave with a bunch of Seattle's finest looking for their free condoms and clean needles. I remembered that a worker was stabbed there a few months ago by a patient so I continued to scroll down the page in search of other options. Bothell! Haha! It takes effort to get to Bothell so I surmised I might have a more pleasant, safer experience there and could even fit in a bike ride! I talked to a helpful travel clinic nurse on the phone who listed the prices for the shots the CDC suggests I get:

Hep A - $34/shot, series of 2

Hep B - $37/shot, series of 3

Typhoid - $40
Malaria pills - probably around $25
Clinic visit - $50

The prices were about what I expected, but being the stingy, stubborn person I am at the time I called around to some other clinics to price shop. The UW has a well known travel clinic so I talked to a nurse there. I stumbled over her prices to ask her to repeat them a second time:

HepA - $62.50/shot, series of 2

HepB - $80.25/shot, series of 3

Typhoid - $118
Clinic visit - $46

Ummmmm yeah. Pay more for the same shots at a closer location or brave the bike trail up to Bothell for the discount version. I'll take my chances on the trail. Lt. Sean has offered to splash my face with some cheap beer should he find me passed out on the trail on his way home from work.

As for the other productive parts of my day, that was filled with my coworker scanning the Turns-All-Year website checking out all the turns people have been catching the past few months in anticipation of this week's major dumpage. As happens in the exponentially tangential world of the internet, she came across some simply awesome photos of the damage down at Mt. Rainier from last week's Pineapple Express storm. Rainier recorded 18" of rain in 36 hours. When you pour that kind of volume down some very narrow glacial channels it turns into some mighty forceful torrents that take out everything in its path and carve out some news ones like reckless 12 year olds with firehoses.

This one was the Sunshine Point Campground, which I always coveted as the most precious outhouse I've ever seen, at least since leaving Seattle 2 hours ago and chugging 2 liters of water. Now Sunshine Point is more like An Outhouse Used To Stand Here Point because it's completely gone:

We had our monthly Team Caffeine meeting tonight. I'm loving this team so much. Every meeting and team ride brings us closer together as a group of sisters powering around on bikes. The energy we're building will be an awesome sight come race time. We also have the privilege of a local pro racer being our team "resident pro" to help us with coaching and skills clinics. She's super humble and already has a wonderful rapport with the team from last year. She's going to focus on track this year, so I'm hoping to get with her for some basic coaching strategy to keep me out of trouble.

In more somber, humble news, word was passed around today that our former manager Ellen passed away this morning, succumbing to the brain tumor that she's bravely battled for 4 1/2 years. Ellen was only a few years older than me and leaves behind a two very strong teenage girls and a husband who "is a better man having loved such a remarkable woman." Ellen was incredibly bright intellectually and socially. She always had a cheerful smile on her face as she made her rounds around the office to see how everyone's day was going. She loved computers and problem solving, which she brought into her fight with this cancer. She read all the journals and analyzed all the possibilities and statistics and continually had a smile of hope on her face. When going through chemo and radiation she'd model a new hat almost every week. A few months ago she was selected for experimental treatment on the east coast where she would be given medication that cost $25k/month, but with the trial it would be for free. After only a few trips, the doctors pulled her from the trial because it wasn't working. This was a sign that there wasn't much else anyone could do. She quickly weakened after this point. One of the last gifts collected for her was a trip to a day spa so that she and her girls could get their toes painted.

Ellen was the one who hired me for my job, who called me for a phone interview in my GIS lab as my stupid labmates made faces and noises behind my back. She was easy going and open and always made helping others a joy in her life. Thanks for being such a special person in this world Ellen, and bless your husband and girls in their days ahead. You'll always be here with us.

The art of Eric Carle

Remember when a day was all about sitting in your mom's lap looking at a big, bright, colorful book about animals? The very hungry catepillar and his friends are having an exhibit down at the Tacoma Art Museum!
P-I article on the show

Cool slideshow on his work

Official Eric Carle website

Grey Paint Sucks!

A kindred spirit put this up on the naked grey wall of the Ballard Bridge last week. At first I thought it was lovingly painted on in relief form, but upon closer inspection it's some kind of large plastic decal with some wrinkles in it. Still, it's glorious and bright and beautiful and a shock of sunshine against the sad grey wall in my neighborhood.

Camel kisses

I can't wait to go on a camel trek in India with my desert prince in January!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We plan to spend over a week checking out the state of Rajasthan in northeastern India. This area is known as the Great Indian (Thar) Desert and a popular place for tourons to visit:



The ancient, fortressed city of Jaisalmer was once on the great trade route to the Orient, and is now the center of modern desert adventures (photo by Dey):



My camel will be my new best friend. Forget bikes, camels give kisses!

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....

Turning the clocks back is a more significant sign of winter's arrival than anything nature could invent. It's darker. It's colder. You want to stay in your jammies all day and not pierce the insulated skin of your new double-paned windows. In fact, that's just about how my day went, except for venturing out to get a few more volumes of Lost's first season (What happened to Clare??? Don't tell me!!). Another sign was dashing out my back door to bring my precious jade plants in for the winter. They had a very productive summer outside and have grown significantly. Now it's time to lay low and watch the days tick by until that spring equinox breaches the horizon again.

I have to give big props to Suzanne who drove up to Snohomish for another installation of the Seattle Cyclocross Series. While I was enjoying the extra hour of sleep in my flannel pjs she was out there warming up in the rain and MUD and exhibiting extreme fortitude. I hoist my hot cocoa to thee, Suzanne!

Last night Rhi, Ashley, Davis and I did the Messmanless Messquarade race. Our team was Heff and the Bunnies, complete with smoking jacket, pipe, bunny tails, bunny ears, and a big blue tandem dinosaur. Rhi and Ashley put on the Bunny charm and snagged us a huge pumpkin from Mama's Mexican Kitchen in Belltown. That was worth extra points and brought us up to 3rd place overall. Bunny Power!

On Thursday I was thinking about getting out and overnighting somewhere in the hills, but saw that a cold front was moving through Sat night and thought better of it. Good call. Today so much snow fell @ Snoqualmie Pass that the DOT had to shut down the Pass eastbound and westbound for a few hours. Sometimes listening to myself pays off.

Now it's on to November, my least favorite month of the year, although it was made quite tolerable last year thanks to my favorite bearded fellow. Only 2 months til I land in India. Save some stars for me!

Anniversary Limerick

It was this time last year
I met someone quite dear
On my first ride, it was Seatac
Not knowing it was magic
That love grows from bikes and beer.

Last Halloween I was a nun
Racing around town was great fun
A masked man on our team
Cleverly planning his scheme
To learn if this girl was the one

We had both done a bike tour
Which led to talking much more
On this second night that we met
He said "Let's go to Tibet"
Of him in my life I could not be more sure

Now a post-doc he's far away
But we're in touch every day
This year will be a blip
With the help of a long trip
If he finds me a pink sari I might stay!

All hike, no bike

I've been feeling extremely burned out with bikes this month. Sometimes a person just needs a break from something so consuming in one's life. So the past few weeks I've put on my trail shoes and headed out to the woods. The first hike was just up Tiger Mountain, about 5 miles round trip and 2500ft gain. Back when I was really nuts, I used to hike Tiger twice, back to back, up the really steep trails, with about 40# in my pack. That, I felt, was an adequate workout. Now that I've come to my senses a bit more I merely head out to hike when it's pouring buckets of rain instead. Soaked all the way through so my feet sloshed as I plod along, I still had a smile on my face. The ferns were there. And lots of trees. One banana slug. And quiet. Lots of quiet. There was the physical quiet: No cars, no traffic, no city buzz. And then there was the mental quiet: No defensive riding, no heightened senses ready to make you spring, no wondering if I could push a bigger gear, no self-admonishing for not racing all the CX races this year. It was good to be in a different environment where I could take a break from.....myself.

This weekend's weather promised to be the one fall weekend to remember all year. The leaves were at their most brilliant, the skies were clear, and the sun warmed the earth up just enough for us to think winter might not come this year. So Mary, Izzy, and I met at the Alpental parking lot for an easy hike up to Source Lake through the Denny Creek drainage. It's by far one of the most popular day hikes around, which is probably why I managed to avoid it all these years, but this day the trail called to me. I'd been up the drainage a few times in the winter and today I wanted to see what it looked like in its fall glory. The parking lot was packed and people strolled around in the bright sun, either coming back or leaving for the trail. I actually enjoyed seeing and chatting with all the people. Something about being around all these people who shared the same energy for a beautiful day. There were old people, young people, buff people, and every kind of ordinary people. Even 2 wiener dogs with the fastest little legs you've ever seen.

The trail was far more lovely than I'd imagined. For such a high use area, the trail managed to appear new and well kept, unlike other high use trails like Tiger or Si where the path seems as worn and ugly as pavement. We didn't have to go far to find the reddest of maples beneath the bluest of skies.



The ferns at the foot of the maples were turning a noble shade of brown, getting ready for their own long, cold sleep. We passed through a few small streams and Izzy dunked her head down to take some long sips. Mary and I looked up at the peaks and recalled traverses up Pineapple Pass to the Tooth and other backcountry marathon tales. They weren't even that long ago! Why does it seem that all that energy has escaped us? It's like we've aged 30 years in 3.

After a few miles we finally we reached the rocky hillside overlooking Source Lake. What a wonderful view! A long drainage full of evergreens and spotted with red and yellow trees and a small lake complementing the scene like a fine jewel.



We pulled out our lunches and enjoyed the bright afternoon sun. Mary managed to spot 4 climbers coming down from Guye Peak so we watched them pick their way down "the obvious descent gully" which was a long rocky gully and onto an equally rocky boulder field. No my knees don't miss that a bit.

The sun started its descent over the western peaks and left us in a cold shadow, so we took that as a sign to get back in the sun and down the trail. Izzy led the way and insisted on combing through the blueberry bushes to find anything the bears may have left.



At one point I turned around to see the valley we had just left and saw this:



It appeared like a magical green kingdom whose tree limbed doors we were about to close. I imagined coming back to the mountains on a weekend like this and climbing up higher and deeper into the backcountry and staying for days. Just me and my man and the treasures around us. For now I'll close my eyes and imagine it, and wait until we can be there together.

Rosemary update

Got Rosemary back from the doctor this week. His diagnosis: 4 degrees off in geometry. Drats to his perfection! He had to go and get the old Bridgestone catalogs and measure every angle to see where she sits. I stared at him with big, concerned, motherly eyes and a lump in my throat and asked "Is she still ridable??" He nodded confidently, but with the caveat that she'd be built more as a chopper. "So I can still ride her?" Optimism quickly grew in my voice. He shook his head 'yes' again and said I'd need to get new forks with a higher rake to offset her new geometry. He assured me that this wasn't a catastrophic failure event, so I grabbed my little girl and took her home before the doctor could change his mind.

A new fork. That's do-able! I can get a new fork. I can ride her again. Not for 100 miles, but that's ok....just around town and to work and a few lazy days in the sun. My little girl has a chance at living again.

But not yet. Mama's got a few other financial issues to deal with. So for now she's kanoodling in the corner with Freki. They look quite happy there together and I wouldn't want to disturb them just yet. It'll be time to wake her up again soon enough.

Take me now

Something super special came in the mail this week:



My tickets to see my Sweetness in India this winter! I'll have 5 weeks to sleep in, nuzzle, ramble around, feed cookies to a dog named Stumpy, savor new smells and sounds, absorb a new culture, see old constellation friends, ride a few camels, and climb out of my shell that I've been nesting in far too long.

The great big towel

Admitting weakness. This is the hardest part. You're supposed to be invincible, mind over matter. You try and it doesn't work. You try again and it really doesn't work. Your body tries to whisper and you turn up the music. No. Never. Knock it off. When is it in your best interest to throw in the towel? Before disaster strikes again? Before it's too late and you're deep in the hole for 3 more months? Or do you wake up with clear mind and have another go, refusing to admit what your body yearns for you to hear?

I'm so torn. So stubbornly torn. On one hand I'm not a quitter and stronger than oak, but on the other hand I've been so humbled and shown the muddy puddle to lie in, that I don't want to go back there.

But...but...but...

I wish I could wake up and be invincible again. The strategist in me might have to admit it's not this year and let the others have their turn. Save the power for another chance in the sun. The gluttonous part of me wants it all again right now. Mine.

Or not.

I think I need a little Sinead louder than bombs to clear my head.



Ah yes. MUCH better. But the towel is still gripped in my hands.

Science!!

This amazing computer animation of cellular activity makes me feel like I went to school 200 years ago, back when they used Tinker Toys to explain DNA. What are kids studying these days? So rad.

It also makes me wonder what kind of happy dance my cells do after I eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

Cellular Visions: The Inner Life of a Cell

My little girl

pink bike full of life
craves full attention from mom
jealously weaves spell

autumn sun so warm
driving home lulled into space
CRACK: heartbreak above

forks bent like noodles
pink paint wrinkled on steel lugs
greetings, disaster

r&e first hope
snooty and a king's ransom
more tears in my beer

a real hero found
subject: sad bridgestone needs help
reply: let's fix her

fairy godfather
help my little girl be well
signed, a mom's sad tale

Being force fed broccoli

Anyone who knows me well knows that broccoli has the effect of kryponite on me (as in Superman, not the bike lock). Never in my life have I been able to be in the same room as the vile vegetable, or any of its cruciferous family members. It reeks, it makes me gag, and when it's being steamed god help me find HEPA filter stat.

I raced at South Seatac this past weekend and after seeing pictures of me suffering for 3 long laps, Zack said my facial expressions looked like I was "being force fed broccoli." It was probably the hardest race I've ever done. I had to run. A lot. The sand seemed to have crept further into the park. A lot. They threw in an extra run-up that made me want to throw up. A lot. It was fast, it was relentless. I got lapped by Denny's duct taped punk ass (rock!). If it weren't for Jane making a special guest appearance in one brief corner of the singletrack, I would have crawled under a tree and wept at how pathetic I was feeling that day. I have no idea why. I didn't have an ounce of competitiveness, not a wisp of fire, no nails to chew on. But Jane inspired me on and helped me visualize passing a few more girls. By the last lap a bit of my old self was back and I chased down a few girls one by one. They seemed to drop like flies, esp the ones who had started so strong. It certainly wasn't my old form from last year where I'd start from the back and pick them off one-by-one until I was in the top 5. No, this year I have yet to crack the top 10. Maybe the girls are just that much stronger this year. Two of them were upgraded to Cat 3 after Sunday, so maybe that will give me some space to move up next time and to find my fire again.

Susanne's Memorial Ride

Susanne's Memorial

I mentioned something the other day about life's preciousness. It got even more precious this week with the tragic passing of a young woman who was struck by a van during her morning commute to Outdoor Research. I attended her memorial ride on Friday and it was a testiment to the love that flows between family, friends, and strangers. Bikes were decorated with flowers. Her family made tshirts with her image and ones that said, "We'll miss you Sus...Ride on." People tied black lace ribbons to their arms or bikes. We rode around the city for the regular CM ride, then most continued on to the intersection in West Seattle where the accident occured. It was a beautiful gathering of hundreds of people, mostly on bikes, carrying candles and placing flowers and tokens on the ground. Afterwards part of the group moved on to Alki Point where her family held a more intimate memorial with her dad, cousin, and friends telling stories about Susanne's life. They are a tightly knit, spiritual family. I had the honor of giving her husband a bottle of red wine at Alki Point. He told me that red wine was Susanne's favorite and that pink was her favorite color. If she'd seen my bike she would have talked about it for days. I didn't know Susanne or her husband or her friends. I wanted to show up to give them the love and caring that I've seen so abundant in the bike community. What else could a stranger do? We're a small group and we look out for each other.

Live every day with mass amounts of love. Ride on and be safe out there.

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.

Surprise, surprise

Showed up @ Marymoor last night for my return to track racing after 3 fat and lazy months off. At Sunday's workout Hyun prompted me to replace my 16 with his 15 so that I could get the power I needed to race. Spinning like mad at 30 mph on my 81" wasn't going to do it in a real race. Winding up on the track it felt pretty big, esp on my weakened quads, but at speed I could tell it would make a difference. We did a bunch of jumps and efforts in the hot August sun. I felt dynamite, like I didn't do much of anything, and even took Rosemary out for a spin that afternoon.

Last night I wasn't feeling quite so spunky and resigned myself to just sitting in and getting back in the groove. Butterflies started to flutter as I watched the 14 other girls warm up and chatter on the infield. Many people came over to say hi and wonder where I'd been all season. Even Phil hobbled over to catch up and wish me well. My man came with me last night to cheer me on, but rather than get amped to race, I was starting to feel mighty cozy on the blanket huddled next to him warding off the evening's chill wearing his jacket. Finally Carol rode by and said, "Come on! Let's warm up!" It made me feel so welcome and I laughed at the thought of sitting on my ass all night.

First race was an 8-lap scratch, so that's 7 laps of nothing followed by 1 lap of all-out. I was content just sitting in and watching the wheels ahead of me. We rode in a tight pack bumping and wrestling for position, just like Nascar (like I'd know). No reason to make major effort. It felt great just to suck off wheels and chill. The pace wasn't particularly challenging and at the bell lap a few ladies went off the front and I chased on someone's wheel. Now we're movin'! I was waiting for the group to put in some more effort, but by Turn 3 I was growing impatient so I went around and zipped past the group. I figured they'd jump and grab my wheel and suck me up at the end, but when I turned back my head I was a good 10 meters ahead of them all. Ha. Ok. Did I really win? I seriously thought I fucked up, but everyone headed to the infield so I guess it was over. I asked Jane if I really did win and she just gave me a high-five, so I guess that was a yes.

As I cooled down in the infield, Phil teased me with "I'm SO sick...I'm SO tired...I'm just going to sit in...". Zack walked toward me with an astonished, shit eating grin on his face. I just smiled and said "Oops" and laughed it off.

Race #2 was a 2-lap heat where 5 girls race for 2 laps, then the top 2 finishers went on to a final round with the other heats' winners. Again, I just sucked wheels the whole way, although Carol pushed it a little more. My quads were a bit irritated with my previous effort so they whined a bit and I momentarily thought of blowing the race so I wouldn't have to do the second heat, but I finally told myself to shut up and forge on. Carol made a jump at Turn 3 and I rode with her towards the finish until I was clear enough with no one challenging either of us so. I backed off, took 2nd, and waited for the winners' heat.

I wasn't terribly motivated for this heat. I'm not a sprinter, I still had a 4x4 to do later, so I wasn't out to blow myself up or win. We started pretty slow, but they pushed it the bell lap and I let the sprinters have it. I rounded out in last or second to last place. No biggie.

Last race. 4x4 progressive points. The first person across every 4th lap gets a progressive amount of points - 2, 3, 4, then 5. Being a greedy, competitive person I planned to hog the third and fourth points. The first 8 laps I again just sat in the pack and sucked wheels. Some girls went nuts for the bell laps, but why? Why have the pack go all out only to slow down to 18? Let the 2 girls have their points and tire themselves out. I'm not wasting my energy. Finally my lap came up. The girls weren't pushing, no one seemed to want it, so I just went ahead at Turn 3 and took it the whole way with no one in site. I looked at my computer and hit 30 mph. Ok. Time to slow down. I waited til the pack came under me, then sucked wheels again for 3 more laps. Ding ding ding ding! Bell lap! Let's go! A few girls dashed again and I sucked one of my teammates wheels. What the hell? Is this as fast as you can go? Screw this, I'm taking off. If I win this lap I have a chance at winning the omnium and I want it. I blasted ahead and had no one around me. Not one person on my wheel. WTF? I roared over the finish line and knew I'd done good today.

After a nice cool down and lots of continued teasing, I checked the final results. Fuck an a. I did win the Omnium. 14 points and the next girl had 10. No too bad there sicko. I saw Phil and he called me a sandbagger. Hey I was supposed to be a Cat 3 months ago! He said with tonight I was already 1/3 the way there, and some points from last year would count too. I'll race again next week and hopefully do well and prove last night wasn't a fluke. That'd be rad if I could be so close to upgrading, not that it matters much in the winter. Otherwise I'll be in good form for next year. When I race the entire season. Sandbagger.

The season's just begun

God I just inhaled a whole chicken breast smothered in feta and avocado and downed it with 2 glasses of raspberry lemonade and cleansed my palette with the last half of a chocolate bar. So much for not eating after 6 p.m. I was HUNGRY and my body wasn't having any of this willpower stuff.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Food.

I started training again 3 weeks ago and so far so good. It's been wonderful to be back on the track and enjoy the camaraderie that I missed all summer. Summer...where did it go? It's like I've been in a time warp and it's still April, but the rest of the world has moved on. I looked up one day and saw Jenny's sweet new DeSalvo. "When did you get it?" I asked. "A few months ago..." she answered. Uh, yeah. It's been a few months since I've been out. Two other women that I was supposed to move up with this summer have already made it to Cat 3. And now I'm just a Cat, I dunno, is there a Cat 6? All the other girls are burned out as hell and want the season to just go away. Me, I'm like a puppy excited about all the new stuff around me. Yea workouts! Yea Marymoor! Yea jumps and 10 lap efforts! Isn't this fun! I can't wait to come back and do more! Come on girls! The season's just begun!

When I first got back on Rosemary exactly 4 weeks ago I wondered who put on the 100" gear. I couldn't push her! And Louisa...shit the banks were like hills. But in these 4 weeks I've come pretty far. I'm not sucking as much wind, sustained 25mph is not out of the question, and I can get up the usual hills without getting passed by an 80 year old. Although tonight I couldn't complete the hill assault workout I planned in my head all day. Back in April Rosemary and I had a sweet route of 4 big city hills with the last one repeated 3 times. Tonight on the way home from work I could only muster 2 hills total and almost had to walk parts of the last one. One gear? On big hills? Was I on crack? I'll chalk it up to the 10# in my backpack and....I'll think of something else totally lame.

Five weeks til the first CX race. Back to the gym tomorrow and maybe an easy ride. Track workout Sunday and an eye towards the Wed race. I'd take a DFL just to prove that I came back from the depths of chronic fatigue and lived to turn another crank revolution. It's just for me and if I get a little emo just pat me on the head.

Ode to Susan Butcher

Susan Butcher passed away yesterday of leukemia at the age of 51, the mother of two small girls. Susan was a huge inspiration to me in my younger years. She inspired me to dream of a world beyond the midwest, of a life in far off Alaska where the days never end and moose roam your back yard. She was a real life Northern Exposure that was so real. She inspired me to dream of being a grown woman, tough and independent. She is one of the reasons I dreamed of moving west and made it happen. She is one of the rays of life that made me who I am. She climbed Denali with her dogs and a ragtag group of men yet never made her sex be an issue in her accomplishment. She could do anything men could do, and more.

Alaska. Where men are men and women win the Iditorod.

I am so saddened that such an amazing woman could be taken from us from such a horrendous disease. Why leukemia? Why couldn't she die of old age with her dogs and her husband and children in the wilds of Alaska? She was too young and had so much left to do. I am so sorry that she had to be in such pain, and that her family had to endure it also. She should have lived to see the sun set on the Alaskan tundra and watch the arctic flowers glow with color before seeing the night again. The northern lights should have danced above her family's cabin for so many years.

Susan, I'll never forget what you gave to me, even though you never met me. Thank you so much for being who you are and slicing a path in the cold Alaskan snow for all of us. You will never be forgotten.

SusanButcher.com

Recipe for pure happiness

In one life mix:

- One tall, dark, handsome guy
- His deep, chocolate brown eyes
- His beloved bicycle
- A bouquet of rich purple and indigo blue gladiolas sticking out of his backpack
- A smile a mile wide as he stands in the door to hand you the flowers
- A bar of organic dark chocolate mixed with ginger in the kitchen
- Him loving to see you smile

Mix gently with lots of love. Store in a glass jar forever.

Defending Rosemary

I had a dream last night that a bunch of us were vacationing in some busy touristy town on the water, kind of like Martha's Vineyard. I locked Rosemary up to a bike rack with a hundred other bikes so we could wander about on foot. For some reason I didn't get back to her until the next day. I found her at the bike rack locked up with a new lock and with a cotton candy pink disk wheel on her rear end with various prices written on the disk wheel in colored markers (I couldn't tell what the prices were). I was furious so I stormed into the shop she was locked in front of and demanded to see the store's owner. A fat, middle aged slob came out and said that I had left her there for too long and now she belonged to him and he was putting all the bikes on the bike rack up for sale.

"She's not for sale!" I yelled at him. He countered that she now belonged to him and he'd do what he wanted. Incensed, I tackled him and we wrestled and tumbled all over the ground in front of his store with me yelling that Rosemary was mine and not for sale and he bellowing that she was now his.

Finally, still twisted in a heap on the ground, I reached between his pant legs and grabbed his small, squishy nuts and twisted them enough to grab his attention. "She's not...for...sale!" I yelled again. "Do you understand that?"

The fat slob, realizing the severity of his position, finally relented that I could have Rosemary back and I let go of his squishy nuts and walked off to my bike.

The end.

Thank you Bike Stork!

The bike stork dropped off a bundle of joy on my doorstep whilst I was away this week. My new 2005 red Surly CrossCheck, courtesy of my dad's hot eBay hands. He won it by $2.50!! I'm going to strip off those obnoxious stickers, have it powder coated red with gold flecks and I'll call it "Mon Petite Pomegranate." I'm stoked for CX season. Give me another shot in my rump so I can get a movin'.

Ben, Jerry, and my Sweetie

A much needed indulgence after a long, stressful week. After downing half the pint I eventually shared with my Sweetie. mmmmmmm Phish Food. I love that marshmallowy goodness. Thanks to Mr. D for the pic.

Epstein-Barr or bust

I saw my doc today to go over my lab results from 2 weeks ago. I had asked her to test me for any and everything because I was still not convinced that all my fatigue was adrenal gland related. I don't work 80 hours a week, I don't have 3 kids, I don't work on Wall Street. My life is pretty stress free. So she agreed that there could be a virus behind it all and tested me for Mono, Epstein-Barr, Lyme's disease, and celiac disease.

When she opened my file she looked at me and said I had the highest levels of Epstein-Barr that she's ever seen. Then in the most serious tone I've ever heard from her she said, "You need a month of bed rest and you need to stay off that bike."

Wha??? I told her that I've been feeling really good though! I've even thought of going back out to the track to play around and to start a bit of running to get the legs ready for CX. She was totally perplexed at how I could be feeling so great with these numbers running through my blood stream. "Well, ok," she said. "If you're feeling better then you must be doing something right. Just keep taking it easy and listen to your body, but don't go overboard. If you're recovering this well you should be back in no time."

Whew. Evaded that sentence. Continued fat-and-lazy therapy plus lots of good vitamins and weekly shots of a vitamin cocktail in my rump.

So what is the EBV and how did I get it? May never know. It's a chronic, mutated form of the regular Mono virus, which I must have picked up at some point, months or years ago. When the body is put under severe duress, it wells up as the EBV. Most people are put on serious bed rest and it takes months to recover. I can't imagine what my numbers must have been like back in May when I was so fatigued it left me in tears. How I've managed to recover is a mystery. Chalk it up to mass dosages of Vitamin Z.

One theory is that I may have picked up some Mono while down at Katrina last fall, and then some sort of stress this spring made the EBV flair up. What kind of stress? Hell all I was doing was training for track. Nothing I haven't done before, but my immune system may have been compromised enough to make me this vulnerable. My doc said that in conditions like the Katrina response, the body's immune system is extremely vulnerable to infection. It happens very often in emergency personnel and the military. In fact, she said that the Gulf War Syndrome is thought to be linked to the EBV, and the Iran hostages from 1979 developed the EBV. Once they were set free and brought home they were able to make a recovery.

Now I'm not putting myself in the league of Gulf War veterans or political hostages. If I got this from doing some good in the Gulf Coast, I can live with that. Just getting the word out that it's a very common virus linked to high stress and can mask as a plethora of other ailments. Now I'm on the road to recovery and riding my bike. Lots.

Community bike luv

Now that the CM thing has calmed down a bit I can lounge around on my bed catching up on what our Emerald City friends have been writing about the past week. Like I've emo-ed before, the support of the local cycling community has been so humbling this past week. Seeing what our friends have taken the time to write is, again, emo-ific.

- Wright Bros opened their shop as a drop-off area for witness statements and typed up a little blurb on their web site about the CM Showdown. Nice to be in the company of hot vintage bike pics on their site.

- The men of Cranked also put news about this event on their Clog. Thanks for getting the word out via your sweet mag yo. Plus y'all look so damn fine in a suit. Yo mamma would be proud.

- Bikeseattle.org had two newspieces, one with KUOW's report on the second hearing, then another about Ron "I 8> CM" Sims condemning the arrests. Too bad bikes can't vote, Ron.

- Alastair over at .83 has volunteered to put on a fundraiser race Sunday, July 30!! If I have my way, you'll be hauling around town finding witnesses, doing shots at Wright Bros (my gift to you), getting paper cuts making a thousand copies on the xerox machine, and getting your mug shot taken at the King County jail.

- And the week wouldn't be complete without a post by the coolest rocket scientist EVER.

Desert rain

Talked to my man tonight, who is finding some solace in the high desert safe with another extension of his family and friends. He called and it was raining heavily outside, a warm summer storm like we never have in the PNW. He walked outside so I could hear the rain better. The drops pounded the ground and sounded like a wall of water coming over my phone. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the lightning brightening up the entire sky over his head. Deep sounds of thunder rumbled a few seconds later, vying for attention from brother lightning's electric show. I told my man to sleep with his windows wide open tonight, the sounds of the clean desert rain baptising him anew.

CM Arrests press

Blah blah blah blah. Maybe it was just a slow news week around town? Or maybe people really give a shit about what happened to us? Either way I can't help but feel like a little kid who made a little stink about something and now the grown ups are all in a tizzy about things. Considering the gravity of this little stink, that's ok by me.

Charlie's managed to make a collection of the news coverage.

This is so surreal it feels like we're in the high school newspaper. Kids like us don't wind up with our pics in the city papers:

Seattle Times @ the rally

Seattle P-I @ the rally

Seattle Times photoshoot (starring Freki from FGG!!)


Best word crafting of the week, from the closing paragraph of the Stranger's article:

"Two weeks from now, (Zack)is supposed to present his University of Washington graduate thesis in mathematics. Overnight in prison, he played chess with other inmates using ripped up scraps of paper."

But nothing, NOTHING, beats having The Don of editorial cartoons, David Horsey, do a cartoon about you [insert little kid snickering at how crazy surreal this is]:

CM Showdown pics

We released several troubling photographs to the press, but these are more personal ones that I'm happy to share with my own little world. Many thanks to Denny for his thoughtfulness in capturing them (and my ass). These are the very happy moments when we busted my man out of the pen, then took him to Myrtle Edwards park to bask in the evening sun and to take a salt water cleanse, per his mom's advice (of course we also heavily advised not ingesting any of the water).

Interdependence Days

Well this has been an interesting week. To put it mildly. I can only relate the intensity to the initial days of the Hurricane Katrina response when at first we had no idea what was going on, then once we did and got into full fledged response mode there was no stopping the synergetic energy of working towards a common goal. Sleep? Nope. Food? Nope. Adrenelin? Extra heavy helpings please. It was an all out assault to get information into the command post and then out to the decision makers to solve problem after disasterous problem.

So I guess I was trained pretty well to deal with this past week. In the world of ICS (Incident Command Structure), which is used by all federal agencies to respond to any event from oil spills to forest fires to terrorist attacks, people are given specific roles to complete essential tasks that provide the information and resources to get the job done. At various times during the week I couldn't help but think I was working in my own little ICS land. This week starred (in actual ICS roles, not that they knew or cared):

Incident Commander - The coordinator, the leader - Guess that was me

Legal Council - Keeps us out of trouble - David our attorney

Information Officer - Coordinates with the media - Charlie the Tireless (I want what he's on)

Safety Offcer - Ensures a safe work environment - Guess that was me again since I prevented the Seattle Times photographer from breaking his leg standing on a broken chair when he was doing Zack's photoshoot. I made him stand on a cooler instead and made sure he didn't break that either.

Volunteer Coordinator - Ropes the volunteers to do all the sharking and odd jobs - Me again

Finance Leader - Keeps tabs of the money - Lee the Faithful

The Command Post - The warroom where the IC works - That would be the idyllic home of Zack's mom out in Fall City. Ample cell reception and Internet connection allowed us the freedom to become grounded walking in the thick green grass, holding a black kitty, playing on the swingset, and nibbling on blueberries.

And there were all the other players who filled in to keep the cogs turning: Joby, Neil, Denny, Ashley, Davis, and Ilsa, plus all those who were just there providing unspoken support and love. The energy that surrounded me is the only thing that kept me going all week. It was an enormous battle, but we won it together. I can't begin to say how grateful and humbled I am by all of your support. I thought that my work at Katrina and the teamwork I enjoyed could never be duplicated, but this has come damn close, and without all the nasty disaster stuff on the side.

Ironic how this all happened over the Independence Day week, but Zack's family and I celebrated it as Interdependece Week. We couldn't have done it all without you!

WWLD

That stands for "What Would a Luddite Do." Move on with their life I suppose. The past few weeks of dead air are brought to you by the asshats at Comcast who couldn't figure out why my 21t-century internet service wasn't working. Two weeks and at least 3 hours on the phone got me nothing but "You must have a program on your machine that's blocking the IP. Gosh I'm really stumped. I don't understand why it's not working." Leave it to my heroine, Jane the Magnificent, who spent 5 minutes in her jammies yesterday deducing that my network adapter had gone to that big black box in the sky and fixed it all for free. Jane is pure gold and she can sprint like a bat outta hell. We need more friends like Jane in the world.

I'm still on doctor's orders to be fat and lazy. Rode today for the first time in 8 days and felt quite zippy. Could also have to do with my heavy weekend dose of vitamin Z. Need to bottle that stuff up. A thousand vitamins couldn't come close. Or be as tasty.

666 Slayer Race

Dragged my ass out of the house and rode up to Cappy Hill to join a throng of bike afficianados for the post-666 race at the Summit. A better summer evening could not have been spent among a crowd of sweaty bikers swilling beer and swapping stories. My man came in 5th out of 40 or so. His prize (under my direction) was to walk around all night sporting an all-too-small black PBR wife-beater jersey . If a girl can't drool over her own hunk of meat then no one can (or better).

The devil, evidently more a listener of Metallica than Slayer, also made a special appearance today and layed waste to all the jackass drivers who felt a need to take out cyclists:

Turning the page

I turned the page in my day calendar today and found the following Buddhist poem. Odd how when you need some guidance it has an unexpected way of finding you.

Everything is changing
It arises and passes away.
The one who realizes this is freed from sorrow.
This is the shining path.

To exist is to know suffereing.
Realize this and be freed from suffering.
This is the radiant path.

There is no separate self to suffer.
The one who understands this is free.
This is the path of clarity.

Rat City AWESOMENESS

A bunch of us went to see the Rat City Rollergirls last weekend in one of the hangers at Magnuson Park. I had no idea that such a mess of fun was to be had at this event. The Rollergirls are by far one of the best kept secrets in Seattle. Sexy hardass chicks racing around a flat track on 4 wheel skates, blocking each other, getting penalties, scoring over and over, smacking down, checking each other into the crowd, husbands and boyfriends and girlfriends in the crowd holding signs up high and screaming for their girls. This is no cheesey Playboy Bunnies do the EcoChallenge. These chicks kick fucking ass all the while showing how sexy cunning, sporty women can be.

Four teams make up the whole Rat City program: Grave Danger, Throttle Rockets, Derby Liberation Front, and the Sockit Wenches. Two teams play each other in two 20-minute bouts, then the other 2 teams play, then they switch after half-time. Oh yes the half-time. It changes each time, but ours included the talented young ladies of the Aerialistas sporting pink and black cheerleading outfits climbing, dangling, swinging, and doing all sorts of amazing shit from ropes hanging from the hanger rafters. Two words: AWE SOME. I saw Cirque de Soleil a few weeks ago, but these girls get the prize for cuter outfits and girl-next-door accessibility into every boy (or girl's) fantasy.

Jane and John were all grins yet at a loss for words:



The Rollergirls' next bout is Saturday, June 24, again at Magnuson Park. Tix are available through their web site and sell out fast! There is seating for general admission where you get to sit on the floor ringside and potentially get a Rollergirl knocked in your lap, or there's the reserved bleacher seating where you get to sit in the stands behind an 8ft tall chainlink fence and can buy $4 PBR tallboys. A Rollergirl in your lap, or $4 PBRs? And to think they charge more for the bleacher seats.

More pics that I stole from someone else. If you think these look cool, they don't come close to seeing the real deal in action:

The chick with the star on her helmet is called the Jammer and tries to lap the pack and score. The chick with the stripe on her helmet is called the Pivot. She stays up front, sets the pace of the pack, and is the last line of defense to block the opposing team's Jammer. See there's strategery!

Pia Mess. Get it?? Get it?? ahhahahahaaaaa....

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr...blocking the Jammer

Ohhhhhhhh that's gonna hurt. But that's part of the fun and the crowd digs it.

Later on we came up with my Rollergirl/track derby name: Princess Slay-ya. I'm hoping to debut at the Marymoor 100 next month. Gotta work on the costume.

Stumptown calf-off

Things are getting heated down south at TVFY's calf-off. My tally:

#1 - Smooth, enticing, potentially excellent flavor

#2 - Skinny white boy needs to see some sun

#3 - Ah-nald called and he wants his calves back (but the sheep socks get cute points)

#4 - These legs scream FAST. And WAXED.

#5 - Ewwwwwwwwwwwww. Like if my grandpa's legs had no hair.

My final vote: #1. Strong yet au natural. The rest - muscles and tendons should not jump out like they're going to throttle you. Scary.

Take Your Bike to Work Day

I managed to stop at 5 commuter stations on the way in this morning. That's 5 stations worth of water bottles, cliff bars, cliff shot powdery drink mixes, ouch patches, and maps. Of course I was let down/disappointed/sad/bummed yet again that there were no mini Toblerone chocolate bars at the stations. Whoever organized that giveaway years ago did this city, or at least me, a huge disservice cuz now I go to every Bike to Work Day sniffing around for delicious chocolate and get handed a nasty cliff bar instead. Sigh.

The best B2W story has to be from my coworker. She lives in Snoqualmie and drives her Toyota Tacoma truck every day to Sandpoint. Sometimes it takes her an hour, sometimes it take over 2 hours to drive in. And the gas....her truck is a climbing/sailboarding/skiing/big furry dog carrying machine so you can do the math yourself. She's an amazing athlete and used to race bikes and skis like a banshee (shrugs off those "no fall" zones), but she's never abandoned her truck to ride to work. This week, however, given the amazing sunny weather we've had and a little cheerleading from her annoying officemate (me), she decided to give it a whirl and ride part of the way to work. We poured over the local commuter maps and decided she'd drive to Eastgate's P&R, then bike over Mercer Island, up Lake WA Blvd, through Montlake, and up to Sandpoint. An easy 17 miles one way. Piece of cake!

Friday morning's dawn broke. Her alarm went off at 6 a.m. She turned it off and rolled over. Off to a good start. She finally raised herself an hour later and got her gear together. She pulled on her spandex knickers and realized she put them away wet after a CX race last season. Now as she hikes them up they reek of mildew. Tasty. Not to be one put off by odd smelling clothes she throws her bike and backpack in the truck and sets off. Traffic flows through Issaquah and she nears Eastgate, but the anxiety of a new routine takes hold and she realizes that she doesn't know how to get from the P&R to the bike trail. "I'll just go to the Mercer Island P&R," she says out loud. She continues on and sees the exit for this next P&R, but is stunned to see a huge "CLOSED" sign across the exit. Shit! No time to think or pull over or investigate the nature of this barricade. A few seconds later she's zooming across the I-90 bridge en route to the city. By now she could admit defeat and drive straight to work, but she knows of one more P&R on 65th. It's not quite the noble feat of riding in 17 miles, but it will be something.

She gets to the 65th P&R and lets out a deep breath. Finally out of the car. She pulls her bike out of the truck and loads up for the ride to work. Except she doesn't know the best way to get from this area to the bike trail. Shit. Think fast. She does know that 65th runs straight to Sandpoint by way a numerous straight-up and straight-down hills not to mention no bike lane and horrendous potholes. Onward she rides. About a mile later her seat starts wiggling around and nearly falls off. She realizes that when she switched seats last night the seatbolt didn't get tightened the whole way, so she stops and pulls out an allen wrench and wrenches the bolt down. Someone rides by her and comments, "Doing a spring tune up?". Jackass.

Our heroine continues on her way, finally intersecting the Burke and rides it half a mile to Sandpoint. She's surrounded by green trees, no cars, it's quiet, serene. Her blood pressure drops. The cloud of anxiety lifts. She's almost done. The commute is almost over. She enters the campus and isn't sure of how to get to the backside of the campus to park her bike. She rides the wrong-way down a curvy, one-way access road and is almost immediately taken out by a service worker in a huge pickup. Disaster avoided, she finds the back entrance, parks her bike, takes a huge breath, and starts her day. She comes into the office and we give her a round of applause, even though she waves it off and just laughs and tells us the story of her morning adventure. She has a huge grin on her face. I congratulate her and give her a water bottle and mango-orange Cliffshot recovery drink.

The best news is that she's excited about the possibility of riding to work. The hardest part was plunging into a new, unknown routine and she faced (hopefully) more than enough challenges and still kept going. She thinks that riding 2-3 days/week would be totally feasible and could even take the bus part of the way from Preston. I rode with her back to the P&R to show her the not-so-hilly way and she was so chatty and excited about riding her bike again. Her head was swimming with the possibilities of commuting this summer and beyond. I was so happy to see the beginnings of another satisfied bike commuter. Cars and gas and politics be damned. We have another convert.

My arsenal

Yes I know that was the title of a really lame Morrissey album. But this is more dictation for my current whinefest called "My Endocrine System Sucks More Than Yours."

I saw my acupuncturist today. I explained what's been going on and that Doc #1 thinks my former bouts with fatigue that I resolved with acupuncture were not actually resolved, but only healed my chi, but not the adrenals themselves. So my current state is from an accumulation of unresolved adrenal fatigue, probably going back at least from my tour of Louisiana and CX season last fall, if not further. She agreed that's probably what happened and her acupuncture probably didn't heal everything. Um yeah. Did you ever think of clueing me in that I might need more help than a few needles in my skin? Lesson #1 in today's chapter of my book called "Looking Out For #1 Cuz No One Else Obviously Is."

I told her about how unusually tight and sore my quads have been in the weeks since I haven't been riding. I've been drinking lots of water, but my legs seem to be full of lactic acid for no reason. "Oh that's probably a magnesium defeciency. You should put some Emer-gen-C in your water to help your body absorb it and rehydrate." My body needs magnesium to absorb water? Why do people wait until I'm this old to tell me such things? Lesson #2.

After she poked me she asked if I was getting a series of vitamin B shots. Well no, I only got one shot last week. So now she tells me that they usually do them in series of 6 because people are so deficient it takes a few weeks to get levels back up. Ok, Lesson #3 for my book. I drop my drawers and she gives me a shot in the rump. It stings like hell, but I know that it will be all good in 30 mins when it starts bringing me back to life.

"What about licorice?" she asks. Huh? I can't stand licorice. Nasty stuff. She explains that black licorice is excellent for the adrenals and she's surprised Doc #1 and Doc #2 haven't put me on it. She suggests mixing it with hawthorne extract to sweeten the mix and make a tea with the two. It will boost my adrenals and help raise my blood pressure and metabolism. $50 later I have 2 small 4 oz jars of the two extracts in my backpack. Luckily I don't have to use much for the tea and she says it should last a few months. An expensive Lesson #4. My adrenals better love me now. More ammo in my endocrine arsenal.

Otherwise things are looking a tiny bit brighter. I did about 35 miles throughout the day yesterday, at a silly slow pace. Part of it was the Ride of Silence with about 1,000 other cyclists. I was most thankful that the pace was supposed to be slow and I could use that as an excuse for being lazy. I was pretty pooped at a few spots - going down 15th and up 2nd, then up 4th and Eastlake. Well I guess that was most of the ride. But I didn't quit, just went slower and kept breathing. I finished the night and could still brush my teeth, which was an excellent sign. Considering I could hardly pedal this Monday and Tuesday, this was pretty good. I was a little more pooped today, but the shot in my ass should help me recover.

The first track race was last night. Word on the street is that my girls kicked ass. Izette took the night's points. She is not long for Wed. I look forward to screaming her on from Turn 4's beer garden on Fridays. I'm happy being able to commute for now. Not looking to race for at least another 4-6 weeks.

Tomorrow is Bike to Work Day. I plan on hitting 6 stations along the way in to pick up some swag. I'm rooting for Toblerone chocolate again. I'm glad I can ride. A few weeks ago I told myself that I'd drag myself the 10 miles to work this day even if it took 3 hours, but I would not drive no matter how weak I felt. So tomorrow's ride is for all those who can't participate. I know how much it sucks.

Has anyone seen my hormones

Cuz they sure as hell aren't with me. I've been dealing with chronic fatigue the past 2 weeks (6 weeks if you count the denial), courtesy of a well orchestrated conspiracy by the players in my endocrine system. Adrenals: you suck. Thyroid: you suck too. Thanks to their little game I have the energy of a 90 year old woman. I noticed last month that I wasn't recovering from my workouts as well as I should, but I wrote it off as dehydration or not using one of those fancy squidy recovery drinks. But now I see it was a precursor of what was to come, total adrenal fatigue and now I'm struggling just to ride to work. I've commuted to work 3 times in the past 2 weeks and each time left me exhausted at work and struggling to keep the cranks moving towards home. When I get home I collapse on the couch and want nothing more than to sleep for a few days. I've had to drive to work because of the lack of energy, and I still collapse after a day of sitting on my ass. I've had smaller bouts of fatigue the past few years from my Hashimoto's disease, but this is the grande dame of fatigue and it came without warning, no stress, no epic dramas, no reason to pull the plug. Yeah your body really does hit the fan once you turn 30. Yippie! Just in time for summer!

Oh and racing. Can forget about that. My last workout was over 2 weeks ago and I couldn't even finish it. Hills look like Mt. Everest. The thought of a track workout makes me ill. Right now it would be a miracle if I could pedal around at more than 8 m.p.h. The first Wed night race is this week, but I won't go. It will be too depressing to see everyone chomping at the bit, so near the top of their game, while I sit around as miserable as if I had the flu. My one doc told me today that I can expect to take 2 days to recover for every 1 day I've been off. Great. Maybe I'll be back in action in time for CX season.

But the hormones. Yes it's all their fault. My adrenals have crashed, my cortisal levels in the toilet en route to the great sewer system in the sky. My thryoid isn't talking to my mitochondria so energy production is at a stalemate. T3 and T4 hormones have abandoned my metabolism and gone to Tahiti. Add a touch of anemia and hypoglycemia and my system is short wired. Thanks guys. Feeling great here. No need to hurry and return system to normal. I'll just sleep through the whole disaster, ok?

I'll sleep through it all and take the 19 pills (yes that's 6 doses of a hypoallergenic multi-vitamin, 6 cortisal pills, 4 tyrosine pills, 1 iron pill, 1 cytomel, and 1 levoxyl. Yum.) plus 1 DHEA spray every day and wait til you come back from your little hiatus. Feel free to send a postcard: "Wish you were here." Yeah I wish you were here too.