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!!