Taking a step back

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

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

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

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

And tomorrow it will start with you.

Guacamole in the desert

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



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



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



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

Those who can't race....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SSCXWC

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

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

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

Would my body forgive me? Not likely.

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

Fabric lust!

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

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

A weekend at the races

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

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



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



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



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

Two weeks

In 2 weeks I get this back:


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

Making it home

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

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

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

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

Magical Dragon Poo Tea, take 2

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

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

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

Bullseye

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

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

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

Splat.

Surfing Point Grenville

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

That's a right break

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

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

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

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

That's Mr. Momo to you

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

1) It has to be 2 syllables, and

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

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

Mr. Kitty

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time for an intervention

I really hope the mountain has the last word.

China plans highway on Mount Everest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breaching baby humpie and wind surfers

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

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

No really - DFL

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jumping back in

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

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

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

You handsome devil

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

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

DFL, baby!

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

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

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

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

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