Map madness

I have my spill responder hat on this week down at the oil spill in San Francisco Bay. I'm making all sorts of maps for the responders and scientists assessing the damage to the shorelines and natural resources. Eelgrass, rocky shorelines, sandy beaches, birds, fish, invertebrates, marine mammals, and even historical and cultural resources are all being accounted for and assessed on a daily basis by all the top people. Most of them have been working 14 hour days for over a week and they're pretty whipped. I'm fresh meat, which is a welcome dose of energy to the tired troops. Nothing beats huge welcoming hugs and arms held high in signs of hallelujah from my coworkers and people that I've worked with at other responses.

Not sure how long I'll be down here, probably through TDay, which means I'll miss the 3rd Annual Ride for the Pies. Serious bummer! I also only brought 4 pairs of undies since I got caught off guard coming down here and most of my supply was in the hamper. I figure I can make do with the hotel sink, but in my experience underoos don't dry very well in a hotel room. I needed some new ones anyway so this will be good incentive to go shopping.

The newest Kenny-bot

I'm officially a Kenny-bot now. I signed up to have Kenny Williams hold my leash for the next year to keep me healthy and out of trouble as I ramp up for my first full season in...how long? Oh, 2 years. Jane will be my faithful sidekick as we roll our eyes at yoga and Zone 2 all winter long, then puke over the rail after our Pain Locker track workouts this spring and summer. I have a few specific track racing goals in mind, but for now I told Kenny that my primary goal is to have a full season and to be smart about my training and racing. So I've handed over the leash. So far I'm digging all the wisdom he's shared. He did a fantastic job bringing Jane back after she got sick, and he's dealing with another hot racer with EBV, so the guy has been broken in well. Stay tuned.

It's just a flesh wound

The day I sprained my wrist, Zack and I had planned a day trip to Goldmyer Hot Springs, which would include riding our bikes in 4 miles from the closed gate. Never one to let a silly injury interfere with a hot soak, I used his fabulous K2 suspension mountain bike to negotiate the muddy and gravely road.


My revelations after returning to the car after dark:

1) What's better than coasting? GEARS!!
2) If I can't see what's in front of me, going faster makes it better!
3) Suspension bikes are like riding a bed!!

Fisherman's Terminal 1, Me 0

Last night Zack and I enjoyed dinner and bevs at Brouwers, a chance encounter with 2 teammates, then a trip down the trail to the Ballard Market. On the way I caught a glimpse in my light of something green, black, and woolen on the trail. We circled back and found a pretty sparkly green and black woolen hat alone and lost on the wet trail. Booty!! Once we collected our foodstuff at the store, we came out to find rain and a guy sitting on the hottest DIY bike: an old blue Peugeot frame with an 18" wheel on the back, a 24" wheel on the front, and ape bars about 4' high. He was super nice and from Michigan. He'd lost his old bike and this one came into his life for free. It was such a cute pairing it totally made my night.

Over the Ballard Bridge in the rain. We were heading down the ramp to Fisherman's Terminal when suddenly Zack stopped cold in front of me and all I could do was slam on the brakes, which were useless coated in fresh rain on slick pavement. I swerved around him so not to slam into his rear, but on the other side was met with one of Fisherman's Terminal's finest - a spaced-out bum on a rickety bike going uphill. As I hurled towards him knowing there was no chance of stopping, I prepared myself and thought, "This is gonna hurt."

I plowed into the bum and knocked us around. We ricocheted off each other and the railings on either side that kept us from bouncing into the street. After my abrupt stop, he started apologizing and Zack started scolding him for not looking up or paying attention to who else was on the trail. I didn't really hear what they were saying because I was staring at my left arm, which was quickly seizing up and beginning to throb. The old guy smelled of really bad cologne. I poked at Zack to move him along, away from this useless argument. I walked down the rest of the hill and mounted my bike for the one-handed ride up the other hill home.

After a night of icing and a morning of teammates playing Mom, I went to the Ballard Swedish ER (the ONLY ER you should ever let anyone go to) to get some x-rays. Only an hour later, the doc said it was a bad sprain, but that there was bone and ligament damage from old injuries that would require attention (Oh, you mean from the 2 other times I've fucked up this wrist?). So now I have to see an ortho specialist who may suggest that I have surgery to repair some bone and ligaments, but I really have no interest in this. This wrist has gotten pretty banged up before and it's a matter of letting the swelling go down, taping it up, and wincing a bit when I have to brake hard (enter the fixed gear!!).

For now it's a bag of frozen peas on my arm and a few days of vacation. And being extra wary of bums emanating from Fisherman's Terminal.

Ship go boom

There's a big oil spill down in San Francisco Bay, which many of my coworkers are responding to. A huge container ship hit the Oakland Bay Bridge and tore a 100' gash in its side, which also spilled ~58,000 gallons of IFO 380 (that's the heavy black goo) into the Bay. We just had a huge drill down there last year simulating the response to a similar spill, so the silver lining is that the best possible people are down there doing some very stressful, time-crunching work. As for the public's perception that the Coasties' response was delayed and this spill could have been minimized or contained sooner, BACK OFF. There are issues in determining how much oil a ship has lost when it has a 100' hole in it and when there is a layer of dense fog over the Bay preventing overflights. If you want to bitch, give it to the Responsible Party. The Coasties and everyone else I know who's down there are the best in the business. Our coastlines are in good hands. Now shut up, get in your SUV, drive to the store, and get me a beer.

Photo: Sea star and persistent tar balls at Muir Beach

Ying, yang, and the bang bang

If you're hip to bad cycling movies, you'll know this is a line from one of my favorites, "American Flyers". I introduced my team to the classic one weekend when we were staying up in Sequim for the Tour de Dung series. The tale of the little brother David and nasty skanky Muzzin racing the Coors Classic gave us oodles of props for the next day. "Enough of this Sunday ride, let's hurt a little!"

But today's ying yang has more to do with last week's enormous Full Moon - now waning - wrecking havoc on many people around me, including myself:

- Seattle Int'l Randonneur - Shot with a bb gun on his commute home by some people in a car. Two bullets lodged in his lung and diaphram. In great spirits and doing well.
- Teammate Alyson - Broken elbow, just had surgery, pins in elbow, out for an indeterminate time
- Coworker/officemate/friend - Fired in a big time, 3 day showdown at work. It sucked. I'm still trying to clean her area. It will take a few days. It's mentally exhausting. We're all worried that she's ok, but I don't think we'll hear from her again.
- Friend Randall - T-boned in car by idiot SUV driver running a red light while yapping on a cell phone. Car totaled. Luckily he's ok. Lots of witnesses to pin the bimbo's ass.
- Me - Took an offer to ride Charles' precious, new, 0.38mm thin Columbus steel, Marinoni frame only to accidentally bang and dent the top tube on some pannier racks when trying to put it back. If there is one person in the local cycling scene that you do not want to piss off, it's Charles. If there is one person in the local cycling scene whose precious, new, beloved bike you don't want to fuck up, it's Charles. One word: SUCKSTOBEME

On the good side:
- I'm healthy and doing well
- Everyone else I know is healthy and doing well (get well Alyson!!)
- Due to bullet #3 above, I have some undeniable job security
- I woke up this morning to Momo rolling in a pile of catnip covering my kitchen floor. Little punk had found the bag and had a catnip orgy all night long. Nippers Anonymous arrived by afternoon for an intervention.
- I've lost 5# the past month thanks to eliminating all the major food allergens and all-around bad stuff: wheat, gluten, sugar, soy, corn, potatoes, and dairy. Shooting for another 15 more by March.
- I'm trying to get set up with a great coach to assist in my comeback. If he'd call me back.

Hopefully next Friday's New Moon will set us up for more fortunate events and no more setbacks as the moon waxes towards full. If you can, stay at home in your footie pajamas with some books and a sun lamp and don't come out until next weekend.

A magical weekend down the rabbit hole

25 teams went in, only 1 finished first. I may not have raced much officially this year, but I can end 2007 knowing that our Alice in Wonderland team was crowned this year's Messman's Messquerade winners, the 2nd team to finish in time, and the 1st team to have the most completed 28 (yes that's a hellofalot) checkpoints. Riding home from the after party at 2 a.m. with Zack and Raz, I was still in a haze that it happened at all. Seeing Alice chasing the White Rabbit down Broadway on bikes was one of the best moments ever. Hearing Raz recount his phone call to the wrong number, priceless: "We're golden. I have a bone. [pause]. We're golden! I have a bone!!"

I don't know what was most exciting about the whole weekend:

- Our team's warmup ride and costume shakedown Friday night. Critical Mass took the entire Viaduct from the stadium, went through the Battery Street Tunnel, up 99, then over the Aurora Bridge and into Wallingford. I'm not a huge fan of pissing off motorists, but this was one for the record books. They should shut down the Viaduct one night a month and let everyone walk or bike on it, watch the sun set over the Olympics, and listen to how quiet it is. An experience like that might persuade one or two people to ditch their cars to help make the world a little more quiet. Also, 500 car-free people echoing through the Battery Street tunnel is a beautiful piece of music.

- Well, the race. That we won.

pre-Messquerade excitement

Every year a bunch of us do Messmann's Messquerade race, whereupon a bunch of people adorn Halloweenie costumes, consume much libation, and ride around the city filling out a manifest and racing to the finish. One year extra points were awarded for video of anyone riding the mechanical bull at Cowgirls (check), and last year there were extra points for anyone who brought a real pumpkin to the finish line (check). Two years ago I got the most extra points of anyone because that's where I really met Zack (awwwwwww). That same year I also got to bed around 2 a.m. only to get up 4 hours later to pick up Jane for the Ft. Steilacoom CX race. Completely devoid of sleep and utterly hung over, I still rocked the course on my singlespeed, came back home and passed out, then got a sweet phone call that night from my masked man seeing how I was after 2 races in 12 hours.

This year looks to live up to the same reputation. Seven of us are going as Team Alice in Wonderland. We have Alice (complete with hairy legs, 5 o'clock shadow, and real long blond hair), Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee on a tandem, the Mad Hatter, maybe a Cheshire Cat, the Queen of Hearts (yielding a light saber, yo!), and the fastest White Rabbit in town.

I don't have Ft. Steilacoom on the agenda for the next day, just picking up Jane at the airport and waving obnoxious signs to welcome her back to the States after her stellar rookie appearance at Master's World Track Championships in Sydney. I might wear my costume then, too.

Yay!

That's the only way to describe how I feel about today's first team ride. Yay!!! We did 41 miles around Everett and Monroe and Snohomish (how we tied that together I have no idea) and I felt absolutely awesome the whole time. Granted, I wasn't one of the amazons who pulled into the wind for 5 miles, but I rode strong and zippy and never felt like I couldn't keep the pace with the other girls. The curse is broken!! I'm so tempted to go to my favorite CX course, Kelly Creek, tomorrow, but we're going to spend the day riding with our friend who is leaving Seattle for good and riding his bike to Austin, TX. So we'll ride out to Fall City together for one last round of fun, then he's off on the John Wayne Trail headed east and then south into Oregon and other adventures. [edit: Departure postponed a few days. We didn't ride to Fall City to get pie. Long Sunday rides were made for eating pie, dangit.]

I also got a call from Jane last night. She's down in Sydney, Australia, at the Masters World Track Championships. She's talking funny already and having the time of her life. I've never heard someone so utterly happy before. Besides making new friends in the international racing scene, she's already set a PR in the 200 and 500 meter races, and even came in 6th overall in the 500!! Being an unknown has its advantages, like being able to power around 2 Aussies who have completely underestimated your awesomeness. Now it's on to the Scratch and Points races and more kickassness, then some relaxation at the Great Barrier Reef. Eventually, we hope, she'll come back home and share more stories.

2008 is going to be a fantastical season!

Stupid weather

I was going to journey out to Marymoor tonight for the Wed night CX training, but October Storm 2007 rolled in a bit early so my carpoolees and I decided to call it a wash. A night of driving rain and plummeting temperatures while rolling around jarring divots of grass was not high on our list. Plus I've learned that I need to lean towards being conservative when it comes to exposing myself to immune-challenging elements, so I resigned my self to a night on the trainer while watching America's Next Top Model (dude it's my show!).

I was so jazzed all day to get on my cross bike and see how my fitness is doing. I watched a few YouTube videos at work of Pros gliding over barriers like they don't even exist. I visualized my dismounts and remounts, my off-camber lack-of-ability, and general fun playing with my friends. The World's Greatest Boyfriend even helped me prep my bike last night when he noticed how tired I was and couldn't think straight. He put on my smaller chainring, took some links out of the chain, and even fixed my squeaky front brake so I wouldn't be a total gomer at practice. He is a real prince to put up with a frustrated, tired, grumpy girl at 11 o'clock at night.

But the stupid weather intervened and postponed my excitement. It's been raining since...oh I dunno......LAST JUNE. Snow up in the hills though. This rain must be good for something besides salmon. Time to think of the 2-planking kind.

All a-twitter

Heather and I owe the bike goddesses many bouquets of flowers because yesterday we did the Kitsap Color Classic fun ride despite tales of rainy armageddon from local weathermen. Turns out that we only got a slight misting in one section and counted 1...2..3..4...5(!) rainbows! It was a really fun day when it felt so good riding just for the heck of it and not worrying about keeping up with anyone. After the first 2 miles of weaving through the phreds, we found ourselves on our own with just the colorful trees, random cows and horses, and spectacularly formed gray clouds above. There were plenty of big hills that felt REALLY good to power up. Yes - power up. I find myself getting my power back slowly but steadily. We did about 38 miles, which was the furthest I've ridden since my last race at Tour de Dung on April 1. Today I think I can say, "I'm coming back."

With that going through my veins, I'm checking out all the pictures from cross races this past weekend. Down in Portland it was their first Cross Crusade race with over 1000 racers! I am jonsin' so hard to do a race that my foot is tap-tap-tappin' away at the thought. Now I'm thinking it could be quite possible to sneak a few in at the end of the season. Drive and determination can take you so far!

A few of my favorite snaps from yesterday's Cross Crusade, from BikePortland.org:




Yup that pretty much sums up why I love cross so much.

Stupid labs, part 2

I've found that having a slight meltdown on the phone with both of your doctors will do wonders in having them jump and find the answers the quell your fear. When I first talked to Peter he said not to pay attention to the high lab numbers and "it could be worse", which is the LAST THING to tell a patient when she thinks she'll be relegated to the couch for the rest of her life. I faxed him the labs and he passed them around the office. He called 2 hours later with the CDC website in front on him explaining what everything meant. Essentially, 3 of the lab numbers have gone down, which is good, and I can ignore the number that went up because the CDC says to ignore it (and I paid for this test because????). My numbers are so high because I've had such a severe case and they actually are evidence that something happened in the past, not right now, and it could take years for the numbers to go down to normal. Peter likened it to dead soldiers on a battlefield. Just because they're all around doesn't mean the fight is still on. He managed to talk me off the cliff with that one.

In the meantime I had left a panicked message with my other doctor. It took her almost 30 hours to get back to me, in which time I figured she realized I'm a kook and had her number changed. Finally her assistant called and put me at ease by saying she had good news and was going to make me feel better. She had the same message as Peter, that the numbers were actually good and not an indication of a current infection. My body was doing very well and healing.

So with this info I'm slightly more encouraged to order our new kit for 2008, although I'm skeptical of how the designs will turn out. Polka dots? Oh please kill me! Some of us will never be climbers, dude. Give me solid black wool and I'll be happy. A skinsuit out of black wool? Ok maybe not. Just give me something to make me look fast.

I am annoyed

I got my labs back from my latest EBV tests. I was expecting my numbers to continue their positive trend south, which would be a expected with all the dragon poo I've been drinking and sitting on my ass the past 6 months. But no. My Nuclear Ab numbers went UP. I was 647 in June and now I'm at 1001. Normals are <100. My highest last year was 1736 when I was really on my ass. I was shooting for sub-300 so I'm a little numb with shock and a fair dose of denial. I'll call Dr. Peter tomorrow and see what he says, but I think his bag of tricks is pretty empty. I've been feeling rather excellent and have begun the arduous phase of getting my cardio back, but if my numbers are so screwed I'll never know if I'm getting sick again until it's too late. If you can't count on data to tell you how your health is then what is there?

I had started a cleansing diet this week to try and reboot my system after all the crap it's been through the past 6 months, esp in anticipation of my new "better" numbers. But now those bottles of wine are looking mighty tasty.

Stupid dumb body health stuff. Leave me alone!!!!!!!!

-----------------

Ok after a short pity party, I found some inspiring information about athletes with chronic fatigue syndrome. It turns out that US Women's Soccer Team star Michele Akers has suffered with it for years, but managed to control it enough to stay at her elite level before retiring. Says she:

"It's taken me three years to get back. When I first decided to take six months off and tried training again, I was in the weight room, like, 15 minutes, and then I could go on a five-minute walk/ jog. It's taken me three years to get my body back.....I never know who is going to show up on the field, who I'm going to be from day to day. So to hear my coach say today that he's so proud of me, that they need me on the field to win, was good. I disappoint myself so much because I know what kind of player I can be. But I've learned I can contribute in spite of [limitations on] my playing ability."

Maybe all is not lost. Rest, recouperate, moderation, keep playing. I can do that.

Goat Justice League prevails

When I read about this group I thought it was some offshoot from the Superfriends Hall of Justice. Whether they wear capes or not, they've cleared the way for me to have cute little goat friends at my home in Seattle. Just like the GJL's president, I could have half a gallon of fresh goat milk every day and make goat cheese while all the little buggers care about is eating negligent landscaping.


Now if I could just get out of my condo and into a residential address I'd be all set. Seattle Tilth is planning goat husbandry classes so I'll take this one step at a time. Goat cheese and wine party coming soon!!

Smells like cross season

My words of the day: "Not being able to race BLOWS." We went to watch Starcrossed last night and my muscles started to quiver and my legs wanted to chase people down, but I was in Keens and jeans so that wasn't going to happen. It also sucked to hear stories from fellow racers who have moved up to Cat 3 this year, racers that I was easily beating before on a singlespeed. It's like being in school and being held back. The class you were supposed to graduate with is proceeding as usual and you're hanging with the slow kids who pick their nose. I've toyed with the idea of building my base back up for a few months and then doing a few cross races at the end of the season (when everyone else is tired! brilliant tactic!), but in Reality Land that's just a day dreaming fantasy and not terribly smart. But hell, who doesn't want to be part of a racing community that's all about mud, cold, rain, beer, and utter insanity? That in itself is reason to get out of bed on a Sunday morning and challenge everything safe and normal.

Otherwise, it's freakin' cold out there, summer has officially checked out and it smells even more like snow is in the air. Hopefully that's on tap because Zack just got his second pair of tele skis in a week so the boy needs something to ride them on. I'm eager to take out my pretty blue tele skis again after a year off (note: never ever lose track of other interests in racing's off season). My goal this year is to deftly negotiate blue runs without feeling like I'm jumping off a skyscraper.

Our team is looking mighty fine for the 2008 season. We've snagged one girl from another team and recruited two magnanimous ladies who have never raced before, but have their own stellar athletic backgrounds. Little things like, oh I dunno, mountain climbing and Olympic-class rowing. And best of all they smile like the sun and laugh a lot, which goes a long way when the season has such huge ups and downs and it's all about having fun on bikes, right? The girls on our Sick & Injured List are almost done licking their wounds and laying down plans for winter training to show up in the spring to make up for a long, lost season. That in itself will add 5 of us to the lineup! That's half of our 2007 team!

I'm off to pull on my wool knickers and go for a ride. One day closer to charging out of the gate.

Taking a step back

I want everyone to get along.
I want everyone to be nice to each other.
I want people to smile more.
I want kids to be able to ride their bicycles anywhere in town without fear.
I want people to live a wonderful life full of stories and adventure and die of old age.

I don't want to see anger.
I don't want to see hate.
I don't want to see death at a young age.
I don't want to see sadness.

Somewhere not long ago, I caught sight of a small bumper sticker that said in simple block lettering, "Love Wins", when I needed to see it most. I still want to believe that it does win through all the grief that permeates most days.

But it starts with one person, and I think today it starts with me.

And tomorrow it will start with you.

Guacamole in the desert

Burning Man was a most awesome event and I can't recommend it more highly enough. I was pretty amazed by how much there is to do no matter who you are or what your interests are. I thought that I'd be overwhelmed by living so closely with 40k people (and the portapotties to support them), but the desert can swallow up their cacophony pretty well and leave you with plenty of solace. Best of all, bikes are everywhere and the only real way to get around. You ride your bike to the loo, to the playa, to go dancing, to get ice, to check out other camps, and to get away from it all. The bikes are decorated in the silliest of outfits, like Halloween for a whole week. If only the outside world would adopt such traditions it would make the day-to-day doldrums pretty fun.



I fell in love with a few pieces of art, such as Crude Awakening, a large sculpture with metal figures giving praise to a full-scale oil derrick. On Saturday night they blew the derrick up in what was figured to be the largest non-military propane explosion (blowing shit up is BIG fun down there), then let it burn to the ground. Most people left the exhibition at that, but the next morning as I ventured out on my bike I saw a sight across the playa that literally brought tears to my eyes: among the ashes of the derrick the artists were placing a 50ft living sequoia tree. The humanoid sculptures, black and scarred from the previous night's explosion, were now praying to the tree. Just brilliant to see.



We drove through central Oregon to get down there, which is one of the most scenic places I've ever seen. On the way home we stayed one night at the Summer Lake hot springs where we enjoyed our first real cleanse and slept under the stars, free of rambling art cars playing techno and sand encrusting your pillow. As the sun began to lighten the sky we woke up to coyotes howling and it was one of those moments when you take a picture with your mind and hold on to it forever.



Most of all, I took back memories of a community where there are none of society's class structure, where everyone is equal and helps each other succeed and to enjoy their experience. You walk down the street and everyone says Hi, or you're welcomed to drop into someone's camp and just strike up a conversation. I met more scientists, intellectuals, and thinkers this week than in 30some years of riding my bike around and not really talking to anyone. The good news is that they're infiltrating much of the outside world and once you've been to the desert you can't help but want to bring its influences back with you.

Those who can't race....

- Jockstrap for their team at the State Team Time Trial championships, in the rain. My early morning assistance and meticulous split time recording still did nothing to help my team to:

- wake up to their alarm clock;
- make the Zipp valve stem understand that air needs to go inside the tubular, not out;
- remember when to be at the start with their 3 other teammates;
- take the left turn instead of a right turn.

Still, they ended up 3rd out of 5th, but easily could have taken silver if not for said events. Big congrats to the Byrne ladies for SMOKING the field by +5 mins to take the gold. Their time would have gotten them bronze in the 1-2-3s! It was also fun to see Juice out there in the red Ti train on their way to 1-2-3 silver. Stage races, time trials, Elite track Nats....girl's got it goin' on.

- Get up to their elbows in blue dye and green satin and and pink fuzz and all matter of things that make Burning Man the most festive and colorful destination ever. I've also bought an assortment of fake flowery things to make Katrina my dryad chariot for next week's adventure.

- Wake up to a fuzzy face that does not require a can of cat food and actually encourages you to stay in bed.

- Become fascinated by Myers-Brigg in our work communication "therapy" sessions and how my INFPness is systematically designed to drive my ENTJ boss completely insane (mission accomplished!). An even better revelation is that my personality is likened to Calvin from Calvin & Hobbes - I waiver back and forth between fantasy and reality and enjoy bringing my stuffed animals to life. Duh. I asked Penguin and he thinks you realists are totally lame.

- Start to feel their daily energy becoming better. I can commute to work 2x/week and not have to take a nap when I get home and can recover well the next day. My teammates have been the most amazing support during all of this. One has fibromyalgia and was so bad in 2000 that she had to leave her high-level marketing job because she couldn't even work, so she just slept all day at home for months in addition to being in a lot of pain. The next 5 years were a gradual test of getting out of bed, volunteering a few hours/day, to finally working part time then full time. Finally she was able to become active again and even race. "Two steps forward, one step back," was her motto and said that's the only way you can come back from chronic fatigue. It's a constant test of how high you can stack your pennies without them falling. Right now I'm only about 3 pennies high.

(btw, if you have a ridiculously annoying disease, our team is recruiting new members - girls and boys! Join us for lively discussions of bikes, gear, watts, heart rates, food, hoohoos, and enough medical mumbo jumbo to fulfill 5 college credits. Healthy people encouraged to join too.)

SSCXWC

Damn. After I finish the Dragon Poo Tea in 2 weeks I'd have less than 3 months to make sure this kryptonite has left my body, lose 10#, and train enough to be able to withstand 45 minutes of deathly exertion on a singlespeed bike in the mud, rain, and cold of November.

Doable? Anything is doable if you're stubborn enough.

Do I have any base training to back me up? hahahahahahaaaaaaa......

Would my body forgive me? Not likely.

Do I tell Dr. Peter what I did when I have yet another relapse? Hell no.

Fabric lust!

Neil has totally turned me on to the Pacific Fabrics stores to hunt and gather fabric for our group's end-of-the-next-month adventure. I keep coming home with yards of new colorful, fuzzy, satiny, fun stuff, and I have no idea what to do with them. All I know is that in my head I'll come out looking awfully sexy and cute. In reality.....well we'll see what kind of emergency costume help I can get to fit that active imagination of mine.

But for now all I'll say is: pink fuzzballs and green satin. HEAVEN!!

A weekend at the races

I played hookie Friday and drove out to the coast for a brief trip into the surf. Brief because the waves were a lot bigger and faster than I anticipated and I found myself out farther than I'm comfortable. Imagining myself being swept out 15 miles offshore before the Coasties could find me, I meekly made my way back in and played in the white water, working on basics and regaining that muscle memory. Calling it a day, I made my way back into the jungle of traffic and to the city for the rest of the action-packed weekend.

The rest of Friday and Saturday I spent with the local homegirls who were racing at the FSA Grand Prix track races at Marymoor. The organizers did a great job bringing in scores of world and national talent to the event. I'm sure if all the medalists wore their bling around their necks that it could all be seen from space.



Nevertheless, our local girls signed on for a bevy of sprint and endurance races, such as the keirin and match sprints. Everyone pretty much knew they were in it for the experience, the kind you can't get riding with the same ladies every Wed night. Jane, Lara, and Gwen (fresh off the plane from Minneapolis!) came out of their keirin races Friday night with the most joyous and exuberant smiles I've seen in a long time. Jane declared this her new favorite event, esp when Tamara told her that it's totally legit to body-check and even head-butt others in the race. Later that night we watched Lara stick it out in the 5x8 Points race, going Mach 10 with all these national champions for 40 loooooong laps and staying in the pack the whole way.



Saturday morning was the qualifying events for the sprint match races. Out of 19 women, they were only letting 12 into the sprints. Jane was bummed that she didn't make the cut, but HELLO, she did a damn fine job nixing a full second off her times from last year, and this was after battling EBV for nearly 3 months earlier this summer. With a full month til Masters Nationals she'll have plenty of time to buff up for her next big competition. Gwen made it into the sprints and did a great job holding her own against the orange she-beast from Alpenrose, then in the repechage to play cat and mouse with other world champs.



Later in the day we hooked up with some other team members for dinner and margaritas at Agua Verde, then another last trip back to Marymoor for the women's Miss n' Out and more insane men's mass start races. I made it home completely exhausted from two full days and I didn't even ride! I think it was from answering "Why aren't you racing?" about a hundred times and trying to explain the nature of my illness. Next year, next year....

Two weeks

In 2 weeks I get this back:


No more dragging my chains around like a restless spirit caught between two worlds. I'm holding on and not letting go as we set off on the next stage of adventure.

Making it home

- 8:30ish a.m. The crosswalk sign dings at the intersection of 25th and the Burke. A nice old lady on her hybrid bike and yellow reflective vest starts to pedal through the CROSSWALK as a stupid co-ed driver proceeds to take her cherished right hand turn and plow through the intersection without regard for anyone in the crosswalk. Out of habit I don't enter any crosswalk until I'm sure that all cars have stopped and see the pedestrians or cyclists going through. The little old lady didn't have this instinct however and was about to get mowed down. I yell out to her, "Look out!!! Look out!!!". The little old lady finally stops just as the stupid coed realizes she is doing a very bad thing. I ride in front of the coed's car sternly informing the driver that she almost killed someone in a CROSSWALK. She mouths that she was sorry, like I am chastising her for bringing home the wrong kind of breakfast cereal.

- Ten minutes later. I stop at the intersection of 65th and the Burke. A nice woman driver stops in front of the crosswalk to let me proceed. Barreling down 65th behind her is some jackass in a run-down pizza delivery car. He finally sees that there is a stopped vehicle 30 feet in front of him and he slams on the brakes. A cloud of smoke, dust, and road debris shoot up from under his car. This is all as I'm riding in front of the nice lady driver through the crosswalk. If he hadn't woken up so quickly he would have plowed into the back of her car, then she would have gone right into me.

- The ride home. Crossing Blakeley and the Burke in front of TiCycles. A nice man in an SUV stops on the far side of the crosswalk to let me through. As I proceed, a jackass comes zooming up the small hill wailing his horn at me like I'm a total impediment to the rest of his day. He's not slowing down for me in the CROSSWALK, so I hurry it up and across, mumbling to myself that I had the right of way.

- Finally make it to the Ballard Bridge. I make the turn to get onto the pedestrian/bike sidewalk and a phreddy bike commuter riding a hybrid in yet another yellow reflective vest is standing there with his bike waving me to pass around him. "Go ahead," I say with a smile. He says nervously, "Well ok. I've had 2 beers..." like riding his bike across this bridge with a buzz was about to be the boldest thing he's done since he was 21. I tell him that I'll make sure he doesn't end up in the water. I watch from a safe distance behind as he wavers back and forth along the sidewalk. I think about all the times I've been a pinball on the side of this bridge with far more than 2 beers in me. The guy makes it across the bridge and down to Fisherman's Terminal. I look away for a second and look back to see him sprawled on the sidewalk, the bike relieved to be free. I stop to ask him if he's ok and he is, a little embarrassed. He still has to ride all the way to West Seattle. God speed, man. I hope you make it home ok.

Magical Dragon Poo Tea, take 2

I saw Dr. Peter today. I've been in denial the past month about having a relapse with my health. "I'll get better next week" has been my motto ever since trying those track races the beginning of June. But after being exhausted week after week and not having the energy to do more than sit at work or only an easy commute on the bike....here we go again. He asked if I felt the same as back in April when this fatigue came back and I had to admit that I did, which was pretty hard to say. It's not easy to admit that you're sick and can't make yourself better. As a doctor, Peter is frustrated too, but he said I have a really stubborn virus here and it was bound to happen with the "super numbers" that my antibodies have been recording.

So today we met for the plan. He'll bump up the prescription in the herbal extract tea and put me on it for 22 days to really nuke the virus once and for all. I'm all for nuking this thing regardless of the, well, unpleasant side effects he says may accompany this stronger formula. I've missed most of the fun of summer and don't want to miss all the fun of....winter. Gads no.

So next week I'll start my Super Magical Dragon Poo tea regimen with lots of doses of surfing and sleeping mixed in.

Bullseye

It's the hottest day of the year and Seattlites' ample, white bellies are melting along the banks of shorelines everywhere. No one in the great Northwest knows what to do when it hits 95F except sit on the couch with 10 fans blowing and watch "Danger Jim" Foreman fry an egg on the hood of a car while imploring citizens to drink plenty of water and take it easy. Thanks Jim.

I got a fine enough breeze riding my bike to work today. Even better, I had plans to meet Karah at Agua Verde after work for icy margaritas and yummy food. Cruising down the Burke in the hot afternoon sun en route to my destination I felt something pelt my helmet and knock my head back a bit. Suddenly there was white goop dripping from the front of my helmet and a foul stench (non-sweat related) emanating from above. I quickly stopped to assess and confirmed that I'd just been nailed by some bird during liftoff. The white crap hit the vents on my helmet, oozed over the edge of my sunglasses and onto my cheek, then splattered onto my shoulder and left leg. Of all the most DISGUSTING things to happen to me. Thank god it was the hottest day of the year and I had a water bottle with me that I could wash the shit off my face and most everything else. I managed to get to it before it solidified and washed away the stench too.

When I met Karah I told her of the incident and she excitedly told me that in Mexican cultures being shit upon by a bird is considered good luck so something good will be coming my way. Well I guess I can't argue with that.

Splat.

Surfing Point Grenville

My alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. and Momo was elated that I would choose to feed him so much earlier than normal. No, this wasn't a time to get a cat conditioned for earlier feedings, this was a time to get ready to go surfing! I packed up the salmon, cheese, and juice in the cooler, threw all the neoprene I owned into the plastic tub, and coaxed my big longboard into its cozy bag for the 3 hour trip out to the coast.

I pulled up to Perry's house at the anointed hour of 6 a.m., but after 15 minutes it was apparent no one in the house was stirring, except for a few hushed doggie "woofs" that quickly lost interest. I had sad thoughts of this trip not happening and my one chance to finally go to Pt. Grenville lost. I finally called Perry and he realized he'd slept through his alarm. The occupants of the house began to move and the ball finally started rolling. We threw our gear and two humongous longboards into the back of his Ford Excursion (ok maybe megaSUVs come in handy) and took off to see what the day would bring.

Turns out that Perry is quite the PNW outdoorsman. I know him from racing and training at the track, and a few people, including Zack and Jane, know him as their favorite dentist. Aside from those well known activities, he's also an avid hunter, fisherman, skier, budding triathlete, and father of 3 equally active adult daughters. Along the drive he narrated stories tied to local towns or rivers that we'd drive by: good fishing spots, the best local cheesemaker, where the cops always have speed traps, worthy restaurants, when this stand of trees had been cut down, etc. He's the real deal when it comes to Washington natives. In Hoquium we stopped at the local grocery store where he knew they make donuts fresh Sunday mornings. We got a few and yes, they were delicious. "NOW we can go surfing!" he exclaimed.

Up to the Quinault reservation we met his old friend, Cliff, who is a tribal elder. Perry and Cliff go hunting in Montana every year to bag elk, and fishing for steelhead and salmon in Washington rivers. They know each other's families and enjoyed catching up. Soon we were back in the big rig and down to the beach to see what the ocean would serve us. Cliff would follow behind and hang out at the beach watching us bob in the water.


It was low tide and was easy to drive the big rig out onto the beach and up to the northern edges where the waves would wrap around the Point and hopefully bring in some good waves. A survey with the binoculars showed there wasn't much swell (marine forecast of 3ft) and anything bigger coming in was totally closing out. Not letting an initial negative report deter us, we suited up and headed out. The wind had been coming from the NW the past few days, which brought in a lot of colder water from Alaska. Naive me never pays attention to such details and left her 5mm neoprene gloves and hat in the car. It only took a few minutes for my hands to be completely numb and without any sun to warm them up I finally went in for relief.

Back out, some decent medium-sized sets were coming in, but otherwise it was larger close-out sets followed by double-over-ankles sets. And with a gray sky the light was really flat and hard to judge what was coming in, so by the time you realized you should turn around and paddle, the waves were almost on top of you. I hadn't done a popup in ages so I took a few turns playing in the white water to get the muscle memory back. It helped a lot and later I managed to catch a few good waves. Perry had a great morning too and rode his wooden board in great style.

Even if the waves weren't epic and my years off the board weren't making me as sharp as before, just being in the water was an instant reprieve from all the other bullshit that's been preoccupying my life. Bobbing out in the water or ducking freezing waves, there is no Epstein-Barr, there is no heavy disappointment in not being able to race for a second season, there is no frustration in my body not bouncing back like it should, there is no overwhelming unfairness when I see all the other cyclists buff and tan and challenging themselves, there is no uncomfortable pause of lingering skepticism when I explain to others what's wrong we me and why I can't race or go play, there are no cars trying to kill me on my commute or drivers flipping me attitude, basically there is nothing in the water wanting anything from me. It's just me, my board, and the ocean....being.

After about 3 hours the salmon in the car started calling me so I went in for some lunch. Perry followed and we had a nice lunch on the beach with Cliff. Perry was concerned about all the holiday traffic going back to Seattle, so we wisely packed up and headed back to the city. It was a good time to end the session. We'd had good waves and as we drove off the tide continued out further and diminished any other swell trying to make its way in.

On the drive back home I endlessly daydreamed about how I need to get surfing back into my routine. It was something that I loved to do on a regular basis until I got detoured with this bike racing thing. Getting to know Perry more showed how possible it is to balance so many aspects of your life. That's a good goal to work on in one's life: balance.

That's a right break

Signs that I need to get out on my longboard this weekend:

- Surfing dreams every week since the last time I was out (oh..about 2 years ago)

- Someone who remains anonymous dropped off 6 copies of The Surfer's Journal at my door the other day. No name. No note. Nothing. Thank you whoever you are. I needed that.

- I saw one of my track friends last night and he mentioned something about surfing, which led to us planning a day trip out to his favorite spot on the coast. It's a spot only the locals know about, one I've only heard campfire tales of. And from what I hear it's the most delicious right break in Washington, if not the Northwest.

That's Mr. Momo to you

I was brainstorming with Zack for new kitty names last night. The thought of something Johnny Cash-ish was going through my head since he wears all black, but there are 2 rules in pet names:

1) It has to be 2 syllables, and

2) It has to be cute enough to make other ridiculously cute names out of.

Johnny and Cashy just didn't meet those criteria. I noted that on the way back from Mud Bay Saturday picking up kitty's supplies I had walked by a Buddhist temple I never knew existed in that neighborhood. So onward went the brainstorming for Buddhist or Tibetan-derived names. That led me down memory lane thinking about our trip to India and how many momos Zack must have inhaled in Darjeeling (although we all did eat our share), and our trip to Santa Fe where his Tibetan friend, Tsering, also recalled how much Little Zack enjoyed momos when growing up at Project Tibet. It came to me that quickly. The tale of the delicious little dumplings filled with goodness continues...and so Mr. Kitty is hereby known as Momo!

Mr. Kitty

I've been promising myself that after a few episodes of travel I would get myself a fuzzy companion of the 4-legged kind (Zack is already the original fuzzy companion). I spent last weekend at PAWS and the Seattle Animal Shelter checking out new little friends. I wanted to adopt someone older since those kittens are so damn cute and are easily placed. I had my heart set on one girl, June, who had been brought in with her friend Benny, but someone took Benny without June even though the shelter suggested they be adopted as a pair. How sad! She was mostly white with a big splotch of black on her face like she'd dipped her face in chocolate sauce. However, I was off to San Diego this week for a conference so I couldn't take her and then ditch town for a week. If she was still there when I got back I'd adopt her. But she was gone.

Enter Mr. Kitty. This handsome fellow was the only one awake when I went to the shelter yesterday afternoon. He jumped out of his cage and into my arms and up my shoulder and was instantly purring and rubbing up against my head. I checked out his history. He was a stray hanging around a neighborhood and someone took him in so he'd be safe, but she had plenty of pets already so she brought him to the shelter. He's so affectionate and good with people he must have had a good home at one point, but perhaps got lost.

When jumping into the world of pet adoption, you never really know what you're getting yourself into so I said what the hell, he's as good as they get after a 10 minute interview so I signed his release papers and busted him out. His jailbird name is Martin, but that just not gonna work so I'm waiting for him to tell me his new name.

So far it's been a good affair. He's definitely the affection whore and follows me around like a puppy. I can click my tongue and he'll come over to me. He loves my balcony and all the plants. He enjoys sitting up on the railing 4 stories up and making me very nervous. He discovered my pot of catmint and has found kitty ecstasy. He hates his dry food, but devours the wet stuff. In his eyes I'm not allowed to eat, read, or type when I could be spending more quality time petting him. He kept me up most of the night crying for whatever reason. When I'd call him over he'd just land on my chest and cover my face in his talons so I'd push him away and we'd start the whole crying/feet-in-my-face cycle over again. Speaking of feet and talons, he doesn't mind his feet being handled so I nipped those talons off this morning. Wonder how he likes lavender baths?

Only divot in the new relationship so far is that his litter box is still dry. I don't let him out of my sight and I haven't detected any strange odors.....but they usually try to cover that kind of thing. Hopefully he'll jump into the world of proper litter box use soon or I'll have to see if Mud Bay sells diapers.

Update: I moved his box to the humans bathroom and he used it right away! It was like he was thinking "Damn mom, I've been holding it since yesterday, 'bout time you got a clue." My kitty is now perfect.

Time for an intervention

I really hope the mountain has the last word.

China plans highway on Mount Everest

BEIJING -- China will build a $20 million blacktop highway on Mount Everest as part of the route for the Olympic torch relay, state media reported Tuesday.

Xinhua News Agency said the construction would turn a rough, 67-mile road stretching from the foot of the mountain to a base camp at 17,060 feet, into a paved "highway fenced by undulating guardrails."

Mount Everest, the world's tallest mountain, is 29,035 feet tall.

It said construction would start next week and would take about four months and the new highway would become a major route for tourists and mountaineers.

In April, organizers for the Beijing 2008 Summer Olympics announced ambitious plans for the longest torch relay in Olympic history - an 85,000-mile, 130-day route that would cross five continents and scale Mount Everest.

Taking the Olympic torch to the top of the mountain, seen by some as a way for Beijing to underscore its claims to Tibet, is expected to be one of the relay's highlights.

China says it has ruled Tibet for centuries, although many Tibetans say their homeland was essentially an independent state for most of that time. Chinese communist troops occupied Tibet in 1951 and Beijing continues to rule the region with a heavy hand.

Breaching baby humpie and wind surfers

Finally, something totally not bike related. Some of the people I work with were involved with the injured mama and baby humpback whales who made their way up the Sacramento River last month (and finally made it safely back out to sea!). Alas, I was not called upon to map the whales' progress.

A good reminder that heaven is the lingering scent of salt water on your skin.

No really - DFL

Showed up for my second night of track racing yesterday. I thought I'd be far better off than when my head and lungs were under siege by the phlegm goblins 2 weeks ago. I had great energy, warmed up well, and most importantly I had the vision in my head of kicking some ass, until....

....the chicks in the pack took off like starving cheetahs after a baby gazelle on the very first lap of the night. Have you ever seen your life happen in slooooow motion....you see it happening right in front of you and it's kind of an out-of-body experience where you're looking at it like, "Hmmmmm...this can't really be happening, but I guess it is....and there's no way I can stop it....whoa....this really sucks". Yeah watching those skin suits take off and me and my bike basically standing in place was a lot like that. "They're 3 meters away....now they're 10 meters away....wow look there they go.....now they're 100 meters away....holy shit how did they get all the way over there?"

I ended up riding the rest of that 8-lap tempo by myself watching my heart rate beep those Zone 5 numbers out in a steady rhythm. As I cooled down it was very weird having to rationalize what just happened. I don't have a cold any more....I've been riding....I was beating these girls just 3 months ago....last year when I came back after being sick I clobbered everyone. WTF? The rational me said that tonight there are two Cat 2s, two Cat 3s, and the "elite 4s", all of whom have been racing non stop since March. They were all hellbent on getting their upgrade points and running everyone else into the ground. That could be why, but......I'm supposed to have super powers, dammit!!!

The next 2 races were much of the same. The pretty skinsuits took off in slow motion.....I dropped anchor and watched them from the other side of the track. In the last race, a 4x4, I finally pulled up track and just let them come underneath me so I could catch on the last few laps and not have to suffer the indignity of being alone. I was LAPPED. I've never been lapped. I'm the one who's supposed to be up front winning!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Each time I came back to the infield I texted Jane, "DFL!", then "DFL again!". At least I could see a little humour in things. The other girls were really sweet and kept saying that I'd be back in condition in a few weeks and they've all been through it before, you just have to be patient. Hopefully this patience pulls through before I decide to sell all my gear and move to the mountains with my goats and green roof.

My lungs still hurt today. I rode to work and was pooped. I wisely decided not to do the stage race this weekend. I'll take any dosages of humiliation more locally, plus my "racing into shape" theory isn't the smartest thing I could do. I talked to Dr. Peter this morning and he said not to go all out with the racing now that I feel better, but to gradually get back into intervals and listen to my body and watch for signs of getting sick. Sounds like a good excuse to eat, ride, and drink a lot of wine this weekend. Antioxidants, you know.

Jumping back in

A bunch of us Starbuckies went down to the Ballard Crit yesterday to watch the races in the rain and revel in not racing by enjoying a few liters of wine. Some girls spent $$ in Portalis while I enjoyed my street-value wine in a pink nalgene bottle. Not only was it way cheaper than a fancy wine bar, but oh so portable.

Now that I'm supposedly clear to begin racing again, I joined a few others on a ride today through Redmond and the Carnation Valley to check out my fitness. They coaxed me into the ride by saying it would be a nice Zone 3 tempo ride, but evidently my teammates are LIARS because the only time I stayed in Zone 3 was while leaving the Marymoor parking lot. Overall it was a good reminder that I can't eat a full plate of pancakes an hour before an intense ride (yes I kept it all down, thank you), and that I've got to keep the gluten and wheat at bay less it trigger my asthma. My hill prowess is notably gone and the legs felt like lead, but it was a good shakedown before the Methow Valley races next weekend that I've talked myself into doing. Going to test this "racing yourself back into shape" theory and finally pop my criterium cherry (That's right, my first one. As if you didn't already know, Cat 4 racers with brakes TERRIFY me. If you see me there, pat me on the head and please stay a mimimum 10 ft away, for both my safety and yours). I haven't done a ride over 30 miles in 2 months, let alone with climbs or at race pace, but at least it's beautiful out there and I'll be able to chat with the cows at my leisure without worrying about taking down the pack.

So pos-i-tive!! But I find that when you go in with zero expectations you can only be surprised by what you can actually accomplish.

You handsome devil

My baby came back to the States for a few weeks and it was pure heaven to have him back. My parents came to town for a few days also and met him for the first time. My mom later wrote to me that he's "a fine young man, and cute too!!!" Yes, that's my mom using 3 exclamation points. I don't know whether to be flattered or grossed out.

He's on his way back to India now. Well, almost. A minor hiccup has ensued because everything related to India has to be difficult as all hell. But I'll have him back soon, in 2 months, when I'll be stuck to him like a seat post rusted into a seat tube over the winter.

DFL, baby!

I've had May 30th on my calendar for the past 2 months since this whole EBV came back to put a wrench in my life again. May 30 would be my return to racing and my first Wed night racing at the track as a Cat 3 (oooooh!!). However, whilst having a Zack-tacular time in Santa Fe doing some high altitude training and green chili tasting, I managed to come down with a nasty head cold/flu thing that beat me down quickly and rendered me a giant fleshy wasteland of phlegm. But being as stubborn as I am, I wouldn't let this bug keep me from showing up and fulfilling my goal. Plus my parents and Zack were in town and I had to show them that I really do know how to ride a bike fast-ish.

So between hacking and farmer snotting in the infield and along the banks, many friends welcomed me back to racing, which was a sweet sweet feeling. The girls that I race with are such a good group. Everyone supports each other and is happy to see you at the races. However, just throwing my leg over the bike I could tell that my energy just wasn't there. No zip to be had, but I figured I just needed to warm up. After a few dozen laps I could tell that this cold was having a bigger impact on my health than I thought. Lungs are generally a useful tool when it comes to breathing hard, but they were full of the goo that was previously up in my head and my energy was still tapped. Well I paid my $15 so what the hell. I figured I'd do as Tamara says and just learn one good thing each race.

There were 3 great races - an 8-lap scratch, a 2-lap scratch heat, and a 4x4 snowball. In each one I pretty much finished DFL, "mostly" on purpose. No use in throwing it all out there when I wasn't up to it. I learned a lot, including that hucking loogies and hacking up a lung is a great distraction on your competition.

My prince did want me to test out my high altitude training and talked me into giving it all just once to see what I could do. He has a great way of reminding me that I have more energy than I think I do (sucker!). So in the first bell lap on the 4x4 I saw that no one was surging forward, so I attacked on the bell and expected a squadron of girls behind me, but all of a sudden I was totally alone and no one was near me. I have no idea how that happened other than they let me go out of sheer pity. But even more, it absolutely crushed my system and I was a sad little puppy following them the remaining 12 laps. So this is what it's like to totally suck!!

It was a great pack of girls, including a few 2s, 3s, and 4s. I figure if I could hang with them while hacking disease all over the track I could be ok with them when I'm healthy. June 6 is on my calendar.

Adventures in Hooville

Not since seeing the Vagina Monologues have I ever become as well educated on the travesties of women's hoohoos as I have since being on a women's cycling team. Over the winter there was minor talk here and there about the discomfort that comes with endless miles, but that was all eclipsed by the eye openers at the Walla Walla stage race last month. After the first day of racing, one of our racers had such an injured hoohoo that she had to shove a bag of ice down her pants to relieve the pain and swelling of her precious jewels (oh if I only had a picture of that today!). She iced it again the next morning before the crit, but was only able to do a few laps of the race until her hoohoo cried uncle. All the teammates offered their advice and suggestions, but it was too late, no amount of lube or ice was going to make that hoohoo happy again.

The weird thing is these aren't novice bike riders here, each woman has tens of thousands of miles under her spandex, but they still experience the pain every female cyclist can relate to: the swelling, the numbness, the not-so-pleasurable sensation of pressure in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sure the "anatomical" saddles provide relief for a small number of the population, but get real, sometimes they act more like a cheese slicer. Give me my Brooks any day.

What is it that causes such torture? My first guess would be bike fit. If your pelvis is at the wrong angle it can put too much pressure on your hoohoo (this is what we're thinking happened at Walla Walla, she'd had a new bike fit a few weeks before). Second would be the saddle type and position. Most women think the cushier the saddle, the better, but actually it's the opposite. A firmer saddle will support the seat bones properly (ever wonder why Brooks are so popular?). That's where the weight and pressure should be, not on the jewels. With a cushier saddle, your seat bones will melt into its gel or foam and put increased pressure on the exact place you're trying to protect. I recently bought the Specialized Women's Jett saddle and it was a revelation in new seat technology. It's a fancy carbon and ti saddle, but very solid and with 3 different widths to choose from to support those different ancestral-cursed seat bones. For the first time, I think someone actually designed an anatomical seat properly. It perfectly supported my seat bones only, and not the delicate tidbits in between.

Some racers will say the hoohoo issue just comes with the territory and it makes you tougher. One local chickee calls her "the leather labia." OUCH. In the movie "2 Seconds" you get an idea of how it feels to do a few hundred miles and be so numb that nothing your partner does in bed will bring the poor nubben back to life.

And so the adventure continues for women who love bikes a little too much. We ride, we race, we endure.

Your Mom is a Derailleur

That's my favorite team name so far in the Group Death Bike to Work Challenge. I only wish I had thought of something so crafty before typing in my rather unoriginal Solo team name. "An Inconvenient Commute" was in the running for my favorite team name also, but then I scrolled to the very bottom of the list and found the above gem.

We have a bunch of people at work participating in the contest this month, including about 4 in our office (and me!) who were too lazy to email each other to form a unified team. So we're doing the Solo category just to sound so much more hard core and most importantly, to keep better tabs on the competition down the hall. We have a rather cutthroat group when it comes to bragging rights. The Battle in Seattle is going down at Sandpoint, pansies!

Free Tibet 2008

Last week a daring group of American protesters from Students for a Free Tibet unfurled a banner at the Everest Base Camp in Tibet reading "One World, One Dream, Free Tibet 2008, " mocking China's 2008 Olympics slogan, "One World, One Dream". They timed their protest for when China was to announce the itinerary for the torch relay, which includes an attempt to take it up Mt. Everest and through Tibet. At the time of the protest, there were about 70 Chinese climbers at base camp organizing a recon to see if this kind of attempt is feasible. The protesters were detained about 30 minutes into the protest and taken into custody by Chinese officials. Their whereabouts were unknown until they were released 2 days later in Tibet. They eventually made their way to Kathmandu and their story has helped bring more exposure towards China's politicizing of the Olympics, their well documented human rights violations, as well as their occupation of Tibet.

When it was announced in 2001 that Beijing would host the 2008 Olympics, I was infuriated that a country with so little regard for human life or cultural freedom would be rewarded for their actions with the highest award in sports. To me and most of the world the Olympics symbolize honor, dedication, self-sacrifice, dreams, and love - characteristics not congruent with a country that has denied its oppression and occupation of Tibet for over 50 years, let alone a country that epitomizes "One World, One Dream".

But now, just more than a year away from the Games, I can see that the limelight China has invited upon itself could bring them unprecedented, unwanted publicity highlighting their environmental and political atrocities. Wheat anyone? How about some rice flour? Tested your salmon for Chinese PCBs lately? Genocide ok with you? It used to be that countries would exercise their right to boycott the Olympics to put political pressure on the host country or to make a bold statement, but they've been pretty inactive of late. One of the French presidential candidates has said if elected he will boycott the Olympics in protest of China's backing of Sudan's role in Dafur. Only pressure from a number of powerful countries, particularly those with strong economic ties, will begin to etch away at how this country is run. I know our country is at the bottom of a number of popularity contests, but our citizens have spoken - and are allowed to speak for that matter - and change is coming more swiftly than could happen in less free countries. I know our country has untold blemishes of its own as it became a leader in the world, but we've also learned from our wrongdoings and owe it to the future to prevent such crimes again.

This next year leading up to the Olympics and the fallout afterwards could mark a historical change in the world. Stay tuned.

Oh, and I want my damn Game Over, Free Tibet 2008 stickers! I ordered them months ago and although the tracking number says they were delivered, they never made it into my mailbox. I've never not gotten any mail. Freedom, right?

A little friskier today

Jane, Sharon, Jose and I went out to the track and played in the sun. I was feeling pretty good, but still can't push it so I worked on the more important aspects of track racing.

Me pics, Jose's way cooler pics

NY Times article

My dad, ever on the pulse of the fixie nation, sent me this article and slideshow about fixies and track bikes in NYC. It's a pretty fun, non-elitist representation of the culture that surrounds these bikes and how it encompasses messengers, track racers, and those who just want to get from point A to point B. I don't have a problem with anyone glomming onto the fixed gear wave if it makes them enjoy riding more and get into the habit of commuting. But if you're shallow enough to treat it like a shiny new toy and then quickly toss it aside in favor of another new shiny object, I'll thank you for your participation and see you on Ebay.

More laziness

Yesterday I saw my naturopath who is puzzled that I'm not bouncing back faster despite all the bells and whistles I'm taking. She poked my rump with my weekly vitamin cocktail with an added dose of Vitamin C, which made it sting a hell of a lot more. It took a good minute for her to stop and go and inject the syringe full of Vitamin B and C, zinc, and other goodness. When it was over I couldn't walk without limping and couldn't sit back in my car seat or chair at work. When I looked in the mirror last night I had a huge 3" welt that hurt like hell. Great, I probably have some infection from all the injections like Anna Nicole Smith did and they'll find me dead in the morning of some septic disease.

I woke up in one piece and the welt was gone and my bum not so sore.

The sun was out and Jane called to drag my ass out for an hour. It turned out to be some much needed Vitamin D time. We met at her house on Cappy Hill and drove - yes drove - down to Leschi where we unpacked the bikes and rode down to Seward and back. An hour of lazy Zone 1 that was plenty exertion for me and I was happy to have her taxi drive me back up the hill. Pitiful.

On the drive down to Leschi we followed behind 2 riders, the woman in back was wearing a spiffy black Ibex wool jersey. When it was time to pass them I noticed is was Lt. Sean in the lead on his red CoMotion, Kira, (update your blog, asshat!!) so I rolled down the window and told him to get his lazy ass moving. Sean is an old skool wool aficionado like me so it made sense that I was coveting his wife's sweet wool jersey. It was nice to see him out and Soo on her new bike. I hear she's doing STP this year, her longest bike ride ever. Good luck Soo!

An old friend from the Midwest territories got in touch with me yesterday. We started racing track around the same time and both discovered the astounding success in boob reduction as related to racing fast in small circles. She's looking forward to their spring migration as their region thaws out (no thanks!) and race season begins. May we all have a summer collection of smaller brassieres to air out in the warm sun!

Where the pros go

I just talked to Peter from Inewmed about how I've been doing on my magical tea and to set up an appointment for our next wave of strategy. He apologized for being so busy because he's been dealing with the guys who just finished the Tour of Georgia and they're whining that they aren't super human. I'm working with someone who is the doctor for Pros who race the Tour of Georgia. Someone pinch me. No, actually, just fix me. He said he actually expected me to feel more wiped out while on the tea and that I'd be feeling stronger 2 weeks afterwards as my body expels the virus and my body becomes itself again. Sounds exciting to me, something to look forward to!! Until then, more rest and recovery.

Fudge

One of my teammates was diagnosed with Epstein-Barr today (no I didn't give it to her). At least now she knows why she's been sleeping so much, can't muster the energy to make her kids pb&j, or drag herself to the gym. I'm so tired of this stupid effing virus mucking up people's lives!!! Go away you stupid virus!!!! We want to run and play and ride bikes, dammit!!!!

If only this was on par with erectile dysfunction then we'd have a bloody vaccination yesterday and I'd be hitting the track every pretty spring day to ride around in circles. But no, chronic fatigue just isn't as sexy as Bob Dole not being able to get it up. Pricks.

WallaWallaWalla

I spent 3 great days with the team over in Walla Walla for the big stage race. Still no racing for me so I signed on as the head cowbell ringer and chief jock strap (team supporter, fyi). What I thought would be a leisurely 3 days in wine country watching hot boys and girls race really fast turned into a jam-packed weekend of changing tires, fixing brakes, fetching bottles, clangclangclanging the cowbell, losing my voice from screaming, shopping for food, making dinner, and keeping a team of women strong and happy (not that they need much work there). It was a blast, but damn I was pooped. So much for hanging out on the beach like my doctor wanted me to. We rented a really plush house that came with a hot tub and I didn't get a soak until Sunday when everything was over! We did crack open a few bottles of the house wine, which was a plus. And the couch I claimed was exquisitely soft and comfy.

The caliber of racing was taken up a few notches and we all learned a lot, even from the sidelines. One of the best parts was watching our coach Kele spank the competition in the Pro-1-2-3 criterium. To watch a person you know with that much strength, speed, and endurance fly right by you is remarkable. And on top of that, she's able to goof off in the middle of the pack during the road race to wave to us jock straps as we clanged and screamed and waved like complete idiots along the side of the road in the middle of no where. Who said pros don't know how to have fun?

All pics here.

Steel is the new black

Lounging around the house in my wool knickers I discovered kindred spirits over at Belgian Knee Warmers with a new post about the virtues of steel frames and how they may be "discovered" by the masses as "the new black." Maybe then there will be one less carbon paper frame in the Cat 4 races. As one commenter posted, "The only thing you do like a Pro is piss." [snap!!]

And if one more ignorant aluminum/carbon paper squiddy jackass makes a comment about my Serotta I'll mention this:

"In the 1980s, when 7-Eleven first entered the Euro peloton, they rode frames made by Serotta. Later, team management signed Huffy as a sponsor, but Serotta continued to supply the frames, which was a lot like putting a Ford decal on a Ferrari. 7-Eleven was riding what was easily one of the best bikes available."

Hidden underneath that layer of filth that is the corporate bicycle marketing machine lies the true wonder of handcrafted artistry. Steel machines that have a soul, made with a framemaker's love, and born to transmit unimagined energy through you to the bike and to the road. I can't wait to get well again so my Serotta and I can go to the lineup and get ready to kick some more carbon paper ass.

Magical Dragon Poo Tea

I finally got my delivery of chinese herbal extracts that my new Inewmed doctor ordered from this pharmacy in New York City. However, no where does it explain exactly what it is that I'm drinking, so my friends and I have come up with some ideas about the contents:

1) These chinese herbal pharmacists have a stable of magical dragons and they make compost out of the dragon's poop and use the compost tea as an herbal remedy. The magical dragons are very strong, friendly and helpful, hence their poop compost is equally beneficial.

2) It's actually a mix of anabolic steroids, human growth hormone, and meth (only in trace amounts). Yum! I'll take some extra dragon poo, thanks!

Either way, I felt better today than I have in weeks. I'm hoping that my super powers are making their way back home. 2 days of Magical Dragon Poo Tea down, 12 to go.

Update: Cameron @ BikeSeattle.org did the Google search I was afraid to do and found an article on Kamwo on CNN.com. Lizards? Ewwwwww!!

Neener neener

I thumbed my nose at the world and rode my bike today. It was either get out and ride or stay in my pjs until tomorrow and become consumed by depression. I wasn't feeling particularly tired from the EBV and yesterday I rode (ah yeah, another thumbing) and felt fine (hey it was 79F and sunny, can you blame me?). So I pulled on the wool and pulled out the steel and made my way out to my pedicure appointment (pretty toes are also a prescription for lifting one's spirits). What would I have missed if I'd been stuck in a car?

- Feeling the humidity in the air and having to pull off my arm warmers
- The new fuschia colored cherry blossoms blooming in Fremont and Greenlake
- Seeing Lee on his bike and waving hello
- Hearing the dogs bark as they played with their owners
- Feeling the sun on my face as the skies cleared on the way home

Provided I have the energy, I'm finding that strictly staying in Zone 1 is doable. It completely goes against my nature to go fast until it hurts and then some, but I'm making a game of it. While Kele says, "I want old grandmothers to pass you", I find it more fun to imagine that I have a gizmo implanted in my chest like the Others did to Sawyer on Lost, and if I go above Zone 1 the gizmo will fire off and I'll be killed instantly. Makes for an interesting romp around town and a way to entertain my short attention span. Going up Stone Way tested the Zone 1 theory and the gizmo went off a few times (luckily no fatalities). I promise I won't go overboard with riding, but I have to move a little. After all, if I was laying on a beach in Maui like my doctor wishes I could be for the next 2 weeks, I'd still get up and walk the beach.

Sick....again

My Epstein-Barr is back. Hell if I didn't think I had it under control and was doing everything perfectly to avoid its return. But I guess the 2 weeks of chaos at work and poor sleep that resulted really tipped the scales and let the virus take hold again. I knew I was feeling tired last week and didn't ride or workout much, but I hoped it was just simple recovery from the stress at work. At the final Tour de Dung I could feel I was being taxed even more, and I didn't have the energy to fight onto that last breakaway and could barely hold on to the paceline I was in. I was shaking with chills after the race and the whole way home. I couldn't eat. Just collapsed and slept when I got home. Not a good sign.

The rest of this week has been more lethargy and sleep. I commuted to work one day all Zone 1, but by the end of the day I was wasted. Today I had to leave work early I was so useless. Seems like it's getting a little worse every day.

The small light on the horizon is that I saw a doctor at Inewmed yesterday. They specialize in sports medicine and Eastern medicine and have a bevy of well known athletes as their patients. The good news is that about 10% of their patients have EBV so they're pretty savvy on its treatment. In fact, George Hincapie is one of their success stories. So as Jane says, "If they're good enough for George, they're almost good enough for you." They ordered me some magic potions that I'll get next week and start a 2 week therapy session. Then it will be follow ups and more acupuncture. No timeline for full recovery though.

Added bummer is that I have to take it really easy the next 2-3 weeks (like I have a choice), which means that I'll miss Walla Walla. I was really looking forward to our team's first stage race of the season. Riding with this team has been so inspiring and has really shown me what the word "team work" is all about. Just when things were starting to click.....poof. So I'll join the team at Walla Walla for jock strap and cowbell duties and have the easy job of screaming for them to get their asses moving. I'm hoping by May that I'll have my own ass out there moving too.

All dogs go to heaven

My friend Mary had to put her sweet girl, Izzy, down this weekend. It might have been from complications from Cushings disease that she was diagnosed with last summer, although her health had otherwise been fine since then. But sadly her health deteriorated quickly last Thursday and by Friday night she couldn't hold down water and was losing a lot of blood. The emergency vets tried to stabilize her, but her organs were failing, ketoacidosis was poisoning her. Mary talked to Izzy's vet and made the hardest decision of her life. Izzy didn't show signs of wanting to give up. She lifted her paw, wagged her tail, and gave Mary kisses. She was the sweetest friend and companion anyone could have. She loved cheese and sauteed spinach, going on hikes and playing in the snow. She greeted Mary every day when she'd get home from work and bark and bark to tell her how the day was in the backyard and how many birds she scared off. They had each other for almost 12 years and were inseparable.

I hope little Izzy is taking endless hikes and eating endless nibbles of cheese. I hope she looks after her mom up in heaven because she's a very sad girl right now. I'll miss you too Izzy.

That was hard

I now have no more delusions about how silly hard road racing is. We finished the Tour de Dung series in Sequim today and all 36 miles were not just spent racing at ludicrous speed, but at fucking stupid ludicrous speed. 25...26...27...28 mph...sure who's counting? And this is Cat 4? What do they do in Cat 123? Whip out switchblades?

This morning's original neurosis about my brand new tubulars peeling off their rims in the first turn was quickly replaced by anxiety that I'd go into cardiac arrest. The previous 2 races had been rather enjoyable with a nice field sprint at the finish that I could handle. But today it was out of the gates fast and take no prisoners. At the start of the 3rd lap a breakaway group with the series leader and a few other contenders took off. Jane and Zana were in position to go with them, but I was a hair off in position and tried to bridge the gap up to them, but it wasn't in me. The last 2 weeks of stress and exhaustion had taken its toll. As I waved them goodbye up the first small hill, an angel dressed in orange and blue came up beside me and said, "Come on let's go get them!". She pulled me up and let me get my strength back. The lead group was quickly out of sight so it was just a matter of perseverance and not getting caught by the others behind us. We switched off and on the next 12 miles, along with another straggler we picked up. The headwinds were an added insult on top of my exhaustion, and if it weren't for these 2 others I would have layed down in a ditch and died. By the 1km mark, the other (obviously new) girl had been leading for a while with no sign of letting up. Fine by us. The angel and I sucked her wheel, and at the 200m mark, we went around her towards the finish. I let my angel take finish line before me, because it was her hard work and kind words that had helped me get there.

I finished 12th in the race and 5th overall in the series and won a pair of new gloves to boot. Unfortunately I can feel my EBV rearing its ugly head so I need to do some serious recovery and TLC before I can race again. An emergency shipment of Vitamin Z would do me even better.