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
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.
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!
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!
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
