Free Tibet 2008

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

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

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

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

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

A little friskier today

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

Me pics, Jose's way cooler pics

NY Times article

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

More laziness

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

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

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

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

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

Where the pros go

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

Fudge

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

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

WallaWallaWalla

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

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

All pics here.

Steel is the new black

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

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

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

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

Magical Dragon Poo Tea

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

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

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

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

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

Neener neener

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

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

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

Sick....again

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

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

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

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

All dogs go to heaven

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

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

That was hard

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

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

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

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.