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.

My first pink bike

Sadly I've outgrown both the bike and the blue Smurf pajamas.

New wheelies

The mad scientist has come up from his secret laboratory with the first half of my new wheelset. So pretty!!! Velocity Escape tubular rims, Sapim Xray spokes, and Campy hubaliciousness.

The Cinderella transformation of my trusty steel bike is nearly complete. Mwuahahahahaaa........

Tender vittles

I literally have 2 seats to fill in my stable. Two of my bikes are without their own saddles and I'm tired of swapping out every time I want to take one of them out. They don't make two of my favorites anymore - the women's Avocet O2 titanium and the Selle Italia Women's Turbo (no not the newer gel one). I wear my titanium Brooks Finesse like a glass slipper and I might get another Brooks for the Fat Chance, but I'd like to get something less bulky for the track. So recently I've been looking into what designers have come up with in the world of women's racing saddles.

I've heard good reviews about the Fizik Vitesse so I went to the shop to check it out. Oooooooooooh it is sexy! And I'm Italian too! It must be a match made it bootilicious heaven! But my instinct said it was too narrow, yet my stubbornness and urge for instant gratification insisted it would be fine. So the shop taped up the rails and I took the fancy package home to try it out.

On the 2007 calendar today could be heralded as the first true day of spring. It smelled like spring. Like emerging green and fertile earth, vegetation moist from the winter reaching out for the new warmth, and trees plump with colorful blossoms. At home I put the new saddle on my bike and ran out to take advantage of the rest of the memorable day.

But it pretty much stopped at my parking lot. I sat down on the saddle and knew it wasn't going to work out. I rode around the lot, stopped 3 times to make saddle adjustments, but knew this was going to be a short ride. I made a loop around Magnolia and stopped 3 more times. The sexy Italian saddle felt like the cheapo seats they have on the rental bikes at the track. My seatbones felt like they were wrapping around a stale burrito, and without proper butt support my tender vittles were quite emphatic about the unpleasantness of being squished against a long hard log of salami. I couldn't move the seat forward anymore on the rails to perch my butt better on the widest part and even then its nose felt like it was 10 inches long and in the bloody way of my pedaling. This piece of machinery sucks. It's failed my simple test of riding around the block. Now I just wanted to make it home without scratching the stupid piece of expensive gear so I could return it this weekend.

In their ads, Fizik says, "The Vitesse is the women's saddle-choice of pro road, xc and triathletes." Well I guess it's a good thing I'm not giving up my day job.

Survive first road races - check

I participated in my first 2 road races this weekend. Granted, I did enter a few road races in college, but that was back in the dark ages when they lumped Cat 1-4 women all together. The gun would go off and I'd wave the pack goodbye as they took off across the horizon. This weekend was a much better experience, although I had to negotiate in and around some of those notorious early season Cat 4 crashes.

Saturday: Mason Lake #2
Up at 3:45 a.m. to catch the 6 a.m. ferry to Bremerton so we could get to ML in time to set up, sign up, and warm up for our 9:40 a.m. race. It was pouring rain. It was cold. It was western WA in March at its finest. My plan for popping my road racing cherry was just to bury myself in the pack and observe everything around me. I'd let my more experienced teammates hang out up front and hand out some attacks and reel in the others. Contrary to the horror stories I'd heard about pack riding, I was doing well keeping up with the pack and the surges and feeling pretty good sitting in.

Towards the end of the first lap, my confidence was growing and I moved up towards the front and the rest of my teammates. I was riding next to Jane going up a small rolling hill when suddenly the road bottomed out and swallowed up the 2 rows of girls in front of me. I tried to negotiate the carnage of carbon and aluminum and rubber sprawled all over the road, but I ended up hitting someone's tire and falling over like a wounded elephant. I remember thinking as I fell over and got up, "Aha! I have a steel bike! I'm invincible and can keep riding while these girls will probably have fatal carbon damage! I'm the smartest person ever! I rule!" With that piece of adrenaline I remounted my bike, looked down to see my bars at a 45 degree angle, got back off, straightened the bars, then got back on and took off as quickly as my shaking body would let me.

Now there's nothing like a little adversity to really get my ass in gear. I knew there were girls up ahead of me somewhere, I just didn't know who or how many. It didn't matter, I was all amped up and racing into battle. Slowly I made my way around the 2nd lap of the course and ticked off other riders one by one. The rain poured over the brim of my cap. My HRM rocketed into Zone 6 (if there was one). I saw my teammate Breanna up ahead with another rider and I yelled out her name. She looked back and was happy to see a comrade join her. The 3 of us rode in a rotating paceline for the next 8 miles, chasing down that lead pack we'd only heard rumours of. In my head I knew the chance of catching the lead pack was slim, but my extreme stubbornness and huge dosage of adrenaline wouldn't let me capitulate.

As the 3 of us rode together, I analyzed how the last 200 meters would pan out. The Winos girl was staying with us and was fairly strong, although she mentioned that leading on the rollers was getting to her. Aha! A sign of weakness. I knew Breanna was strong, too, and she's got youth and a flyweight body on her side too. We approached the 1 km mark that coincided with a large downhill dip in the course. I knew the only advantage I had on these 2 girls was that I weigh about twice as much as they do so I'd put my ballast to my advantage and rocket down the hill and use the inertia to take me to the finish. Or so I envisioned. I approached the dropoff and kicked the gears into 14...13...12... and I blasted down with everything I had.

But then.....the downhill turned into an uphill. Like 600 more meters of gradual uphill. YOU IDIOT!!! I scolded myself. Those girls are probably right on your ass and you just gave them a free ride home. Fuck, what a moron. I still churned it as hard as I could and looked back. No one was there. WHAAAA??? No one??? Holy shit where did they go??????!?! How did I screw this up? I couldn't believe that I left them in my dust, but it was true. I could see the white finish line tent just up ahead and I knew I could make it.....to what placing I had no idea, but I'd finish ahead of the other 2, fighting and strong as can be. I looked back a few more times and eventually saw the Winos girl coming up, but I had a solid lead and took it home. I crossed the finish line with an exhausting sense of accomplishment and teamwork. I couldn't have completed the race this well without the help of the other 2 girls. The Winos girl rode up beside me and we patted each other on the back. Good work! It was more a sense of enduring a hard battle together rather than competition. Breanna and I gave each other big hugs for helping each other during a very cold, wet, challenging last lap. THAT was teamwork.

In the results I was 13th out of 36 starters. Turns out that I was the first person from the crash to cross the finish line, too. Not a bad first road race. It's got to get easier, right?

Sunday: Tour de Dung #1
After the Mason Lake race, the team caravaned north to the bucolic town of Seqium, where we dried our soaking wet clothes over the hotel room heaters and invaded WalMart (I swear I was only there for bottled water). Luckily the rain shadow effect was working for us and the day stayed dry and even warm and sunny for a fantastic race along a mostly flat course with a few bumps thrown in for flavor.

I was pretty pooped after my aggressive ride the day before. Given my history with chronic fatigue, I was leery of pushing myself into unknown territory, especially for 36 miles with girls who were there to go FAST. If someone had given me a hall pass to not race and to kick back and get some sun, I would have taken it. Not having that out, I sucked it up and lined up with everyone else. As I told my teammates at our pre-race meeting, my plan for today was just to sit in the pack, learn some more skills, and conserve energy so I could last for 36 miles.

At 10:10 a.m. we left the start behind the lead car and the journey began. I felt fine at this nice leisurely pace, but of course after the first turn, someone who ate their Wheaties that morning had to go and attack. We were off, and I was buried in there keeping up. The road was still wet from some early morning rain. There were a few newbies in the pack (as in new-to-bikes newbies). There were some aggressive, more experienced racers. Hmmm...not a good combination, kids. At one point only a few miles into the race, we were going at a good clip when 2 newbies got spooked by others moving up beside them and they swerved hard on the wet pavement and took out themselves and 3 others. One of those included a very experienced rider from another team. I looked back and saw her face and left shoulder buried into the pavement with no movement at all. That...didn't...look...good. The sight of her immobilized and the other downed riders shooting across the wet pavement like ice cubes wigged me out a bit and I seriously questioned why the hell I was participating in this ridiculous activity risking serious injury when I could be home playing with my plants and being safe. (Turns out she suffered a broken collarbone, broken helmet, and lots and lots of road rash. WEAR YOUR HELMET, ASSHATS!!!)

The next 3 laps included a few pseudo-attacks, some slow social paced sections where I caught up with girls I hadn't seen since last year, and me basically sucking wheels at the back. My energy was feeling better, but I didn't think I had it in me to be up front and chasing down attacks or instigating lead outs. I'd let the more experienced, energized ladies handle that load. With about 8 miles to go, a Group Death girl made a solo attack, which no one responded to. With the Pineapple Express rolling in, it was a crazy windy day so no one thought she could hold that break solo for so long (WRONG!). At about mile 32 the pack was slowing down and I finally felt like speeding up. Why were we going so slow (Duh! Because they've been doing all the work!!)??? I was like a puppy going to the dog park, but my owners were too pooped to tag along. I rode up to the front of the pack and pulled it along for a while, but held back when it was obvious that no one was going to help me. Screw that shit! I'm not that stupid, it's going to be a sprint for the finish really soon.

We rounded the last corner and I positioned myself to the far right, slightly behind the first row. The 1 km passed (ha! I know better now!) and we held our line. The road started its slight dip towards the white finish line tent and I knew it was now or never. I threw the gears down and pulled in front of Jane so she could take my wheel. She was by far the best sprinter out there and if she had my wheel for a few hundred meters she'd be able to take it and then I could swoop in behind her. It worked mostly like that. Jane did catch my wheel, then zoomed past me, but a Winos girl was glued to her rear wheel like cement and I knew I'd have to settle in behind them. To my left another girl came up and I saw in the corner of my eye that it was my teammate, Katy. The 4 of us swept across the finish....Jane, the Wino, me, then Katy. It was a great finish and gave our team 5 of the top ten spots! The race was a very fun time out by Dungeness Spit with our team vying for the series win with the most team points. Tour de Dung #2 and #3 coming up the next few weeks. Stay tuned, wheelsuckers!!

Help Kenny Williams Lose His Hair!

This was passed on to me by friend Jane, whose coach is the rather accomplished track racer, Kenny Williams. Kenny is known locally as the guy with huge legs and a lot of medals around his neck, but he's also well known for his unruly mop of hair. This spring Kenny has decided to join the St. Baldrick's Foundation campaign to raise money for childhood cancer research. If he raises $8,000 before March 15 he will publicly shave his head at the Celtic Bayou in Redmond! Help us make cycling history! Any amount is welcome and if you work at a company who matches donations, you can double your contribution! By donating to the St. Baldrick's campaign you're helping out little kids with cancer, and the world cycling scene by getting Kenny on track (so to speak) with a new improved doo. Check out his Spaces page for more info and a link to donate. Thanks!

She's got game, baby!

Some of our teammates went to the first Mason Lake road race this weekend and Jane managed to outwit the whole pack with some cunning tactics and a killer sprint that launched her past the other contenders and across the finish line. This is her first road race of the year and her first road win, too! Jane's worked so hard to get here, even though it's just the beginning of the season. I'm so proud of her, she's an inspiration to us all. Way to go Jane!!

Redemption

On Sunday six of us fine ladies drove up to Everett for the Frostbite Time Trial. I originally had no plan to participate in something as mind numbing as a time trial. It's like riding your trainer. But with scenery. Yawn. But then I saw that the organizer was having a "Retro" division for those without delicate foo-foo aero bikes, sperm helmets, aero bars, or any other go-fast toys. "Hell yeah!" I said to no one but my fleet of steel bikes. This category was made just for me. I'd strut to the start with my steel Serotta, wool knickers, wool jersey, "your bike sucks" socks, and they'd practically have to hand over the first place winnings to me right there.

The morning was your typical cold, intermittent rainy February day. Our team put up the tent and we positioned our bikes on their trainers so we could have a place to congregate and warm up. One other teammate was in the Retro division with me, but the other girls were armed with their slick carbon fiber go-fast machines that looked like something out of Aeon Flux. One junior came over and was checking out my bike. "Wow, that's vintage. My dad has a bike like that from back in the 80s." If that little punk wasn't so adored by the local cycling scene I would have pounded his 10 year old ass into the ground. "It's only from 1996!" I yelled back. Then I realized, that little punk wasn't even born when Ben Serotta was crafting my frame. Fine. Let him gaze in wonderment. My steel frame and I were out to kick some carbon fiber butt today.

I threw my leg over my bike and started to warm up with a high spin. I plugged in the Ipod, put my head down, and cranked Rollins' Hard Volume at full volume. Nothing in the world gets me as pumped for kicking ass like listening to old Hank bellowing from my headphones. Search and Destroy.

The other girls quickly rolled out to the start one after the other. I was the last to go and had enough time before my start to get some beta from Jane after she got back. "There's a headwind on the way out, so go out like hell because that's where everyone else will relax. Then crank it with the tailwind on the way back." I wandered down to the start line and met another woman in stars in stripes who offered me the same advice. Our captain came over to offer encouragement and last minute advice. "Start in a power stance. Go like hell. Get something angry in your head. Turn your cap around so it doesn't catch the wind." We also learned that she had beaten Jane by 1 second. ONE SECOND. The egging over that 1 second will last until long after this day has ended. It also reinforced that in a time trial, there is no opportunity to slack or flake out. It's total concentration and 110%, lest a rival takes advantage of your weakness and takes 1 second from you.

Thirty seconds....fifteen seconds....five...four...three...two...one....GO! I charged out of the holder's hands and cranked it for as long as I could and then settled down into a steady groove. Jane was right, there was a headwind. I watched my speed gradually tick slower and slower. 17mph. Crap! No! I couldn't drop to 17. I tried shifting to spin more smoothly and get up to 18, but nothing worked to get it back up. The wind had to let me go. It finally did around a bend and I saw my speed increase by small increments. Cars whizzed by, I tried to keep my heavy breathing steady, I watched the mileage slip by. I felt strong, I was pushing myself, I had nothing to lose and it would be over soon enough so I'd better make myself suffer. Soon I was at the orange cone turnaround and I made it around without going off the road into a ditch. My spirits lifted and I cranked it back towards home knowing there would be a tailwind to carry me towards the finish.

I clicked my rear derailleur onto smaller and smaller cogs and I felt my legs take their power and transfer it into pure speed. I was deep in the drops watching my speed hold steady at 23mph and my HRM reaching further towards the top of Zone 4. Damn, I haven't done this kind of work since the last CX race. Good thing Kele's off in Manchester so she doesn't know! The half-miles ticked away and up ahead I saw the orange flags demarcating the final 200 meters. That's it! I cranked it, I pushed it, I gasped for more air. I kept thinking of that 1 second and knew there was no way I could let someone beat me by 1 second without giving everything I had. My upper body bobbed and swayed as I pushed my legs and bike forward, harder than they thought they could go the last weekend of February. I zipped over the finish line and looked at my speed: 25mph. My heart rate was waaaaaaaaaay into the hallowed ground of Zone 5. My brain was so anoxic I couldn't remember if I was on a track bike or road bike and if I could stop pedaling after the finish line. "Screw it," I thought, "I wanna stop pedaling and if I crash I really don't care...." Thankfully it turns out I was on a road bike and I didn't wipe out in an unglamorous, uncoordinated heap.

Back at the tent we all regaled our rides and laughed at how much we suffered and what inane thoughts crossed our minds while going so hard. We were covered in wet road slop from all the rain and our bikes looked like they'd been through a CX race. I was totally high from the speed and endorphins and said with wide eyes that I want to try a fasssssssst bike! The feeling of hurtling through space must be very similar. We compared times and it turned out that my winning Retro time was only a minute behind my teammates with their aero gear. This left all of us pretty impressed by my simple achievement on an 11 year old steel bike. I was so proud of my bike. It was fast, it was smooth, it was stealth, we made a great team. I knew this would be a good season to come, and on a vintage bike to boot.

Smells like fish poo

I often have dreams about my plants in which they bombard me for requests to be watered or to be moved around or to have their leaves trimmed, or more recently, for some yummy new fertilizer. I'd had it in the back of my mind to eventually get them some Alaskan liquid fish fertilizer that someone highly recommended to me a few years ago, but it was the middle of winter and they're supposed to be nice, quiet dormant plants. Easily guilt-ridden by all things phototrophic, I got on my bike for a trip to the Fred Meyer, where I found a huge container of the Alaskan goo.

At home I prepared lunch for all my plant friends. What a treat they had in store! Even though they ordinarily shouldn't be fertilized in the winter, I figured they were sending me a message while I slept that they were hungry and ready for spring as much as I was. I don't know what roses I was expecting to emanate from a bottle of fish shit, but I had to clear my head a few times as the fumes diffused into the air and quickly turned my kitchen something reminiscent of Nemo's outhouse. I stuck with the process and fed all my little friends knowing that they'd be happy and for that I would gladly put up with a little stench.

Only a day or two later I could instantly see a difference! Their green leaves glowed a little brighter and they puffed out with newly found strength. Best of all was Zack's amaryllis began to awake from dormancy and its little bulb shot a stem straight up towards the moon. Now a few weeks later, it's about to bloom and brighten the gray days with its brilliant red plumage.

How I really feel

After my dismal performance at our team's Mason Lake training ride yesterday, I had a weekend-long pity party that included 2 pints of Ben and Jerry's (no, not at once), a new pair of Ibex wool knickers that I've been eyeing for almost 2 years, and these socks, which I've been hunting for since last summer (but have been too lazy to order on line). When I line up at the first race at Mason Lake in 3 weeks I'll be tricked out with my new knickers, these socks, and the only 10-year old steel frame with a WSBA number on it. I don't need a carbon fiber frame to show what I can do. Once my coach let's go of my leash I'll start ramping up and kicking ass again on the same kind of frames they rode in the peloton just 20 years ago. Kiss my old skool ass, bitches!!

David Horsey for mayor

(Am I the only one who thinks of Jabba when I see Greg Nickels?)

First road race dream

Last night we had our monthly team meeting and this one focused on prepping and strategy for the upcoming Mason Lake race in March. Everyone talked about how when they were new they'd be "blown off the back" their first few races, and some talked about their goals of just "finishing with the pack." Ok that's setting up some confidence. I've done plenty of track and CX races around here, but no road races so I have no way to judge how fast it will be or how I'll measure up to the other girls in the pack. For now my goal is not to go home in an ambulance.

So last night I had a dream about the Mason Lake race. I lined up at the front with the huge pack of girls. Our squiddy friend, Stanglor, was also in the line-up. Turns out in my dreams he races with the Cat 4 women to challenge himself (although in real life he plays a Cat 1-2). The gun went off and I sprinted to the front and held a fast pace with the lead racers. After one lap (they were only about a mile around) I gunned it again and made a solo breakaway. I didn't really know what I was doing, but I somehow had the confidence that I could hold this breakaway and not get caught. My lead kept increasing and the crowd was going nuts. After 8 laps it was time to sprint for the finish. I looked back quickly and could see a few girls and Stanglor coming up from behind to try and out sprint me, but I made it to the finish line first.

As we were waiting for the results, Stanglor was bragging about winning the race. I went up to him and said, "Um, no babe, I won the race. You weren't about to lap me, I was in front of you the whole time." He was totally shocked that a newbie first time racergirl like me could kick his ass, but I did. My teammates congratulated me on my impressive win and even Phil hobbled over to pat me on the back.

Somehow I don't see myself making a solo breakaway and tromping the field my first race. But if any guys race with us Cat 4 women I'll make sure to put them in their place.

Rainbow!

After snapping a few photos of the pretty rainbow I took my bike out to do some errands over in Ballard. Alas, as quickly as I pedaled, I did not find a pot of gold on the Ballard Bridge. Only SUVs.

for a boy

i want to ride my bike with you!!

around the block would surely do,

we could stop and watch the moon

then ride home to kiss and spoon,

i know one day it will come true.

A miracle grows in Texas

Again, just when I thought humanity - let alone the state of Texas - had nothing left to offer me, I find this:

Texas governor orders vaccine for all girls

AUSTIN, Texas -- Bypassing the Legislature altogether, Republican Gov. Rick Perry issued an order Friday making Texas the first state to require that schoolgirls get vaccinated against the sexually transmitted virus that causes cervical cancer.

By employing an executive order, Perry sidestepped opposition in the Legislature from conservatives and parents' rights groups who fear such a requirement would condone premarital sex and interfere with the way Texans raise their children.

Beginning in September 2008, girls entering the sixth grade -- meaning, generally, girls ages 11 and 12 -- will have to receive Gardasil, Merck & Co.'s new vaccine against strains of the human papillomavirus, or HPV.

If this law makes it through the weekend I'll thank my lucky Lone Stars. The vaccination would be covered by insurance and even be free for low-income families or those without insurance. Having a right-wing conservative look past his convictions to protect women from a preventable form of cancer is unprecedented. Hopefully he'll have the integrity to use his ethical reasoning to influence other conservative legislators who could make this law across the land and show that science and saving lives comes before personal religious beliefs. And having the vaccination's owner, Merck, put some extra money in their pocket never hurt a politician.

The Kitty Washing Machine

This is for The Raz. And for all you other kitty aficionados out there. Please don't try this at home.

BRILLIANCE

Just when I thought humanity had nothing left to offer me, I find this:



The Ortlieb toilet paper dry bag. I so could have used this in India where I ported my own tp from the northern borders to the southern oceans and was always doting over my precious precious cargo. Sure I can use plastic or ziploc bags, but thanks to these geniuses it will forever have its very own PVC cocoon and it can hang from the nearest shrubbery.