A magical weekend down the rabbit hole

25 teams went in, only 1 finished first. I may not have raced much officially this year, but I can end 2007 knowing that our Alice in Wonderland team was crowned this year's Messman's Messquerade winners, the 2nd team to finish in time, and the 1st team to have the most completed 28 (yes that's a hellofalot) checkpoints. Riding home from the after party at 2 a.m. with Zack and Raz, I was still in a haze that it happened at all. Seeing Alice chasing the White Rabbit down Broadway on bikes was one of the best moments ever. Hearing Raz recount his phone call to the wrong number, priceless: "We're golden. I have a bone. [pause]. We're golden! I have a bone!!"

I don't know what was most exciting about the whole weekend:

- Our team's warmup ride and costume shakedown Friday night. Critical Mass took the entire Viaduct from the stadium, went through the Battery Street Tunnel, up 99, then over the Aurora Bridge and into Wallingford. I'm not a huge fan of pissing off motorists, but this was one for the record books. They should shut down the Viaduct one night a month and let everyone walk or bike on it, watch the sun set over the Olympics, and listen to how quiet it is. An experience like that might persuade one or two people to ditch their cars to help make the world a little more quiet. Also, 500 car-free people echoing through the Battery Street tunnel is a beautiful piece of music.

- Well, the race. That we won.

pre-Messquerade excitement

Every year a bunch of us do Messmann's Messquerade race, whereupon a bunch of people adorn Halloweenie costumes, consume much libation, and ride around the city filling out a manifest and racing to the finish. One year extra points were awarded for video of anyone riding the mechanical bull at Cowgirls (check), and last year there were extra points for anyone who brought a real pumpkin to the finish line (check). Two years ago I got the most extra points of anyone because that's where I really met Zack (awwwwwww). That same year I also got to bed around 2 a.m. only to get up 4 hours later to pick up Jane for the Ft. Steilacoom CX race. Completely devoid of sleep and utterly hung over, I still rocked the course on my singlespeed, came back home and passed out, then got a sweet phone call that night from my masked man seeing how I was after 2 races in 12 hours.

This year looks to live up to the same reputation. Seven of us are going as Team Alice in Wonderland. We have Alice (complete with hairy legs, 5 o'clock shadow, and real long blond hair), Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee on a tandem, the Mad Hatter, maybe a Cheshire Cat, the Queen of Hearts (yielding a light saber, yo!), and the fastest White Rabbit in town.

I don't have Ft. Steilacoom on the agenda for the next day, just picking up Jane at the airport and waving obnoxious signs to welcome her back to the States after her stellar rookie appearance at Master's World Track Championships in Sydney. I might wear my costume then, too.

Yay!

That's the only way to describe how I feel about today's first team ride. Yay!!! We did 41 miles around Everett and Monroe and Snohomish (how we tied that together I have no idea) and I felt absolutely awesome the whole time. Granted, I wasn't one of the amazons who pulled into the wind for 5 miles, but I rode strong and zippy and never felt like I couldn't keep the pace with the other girls. The curse is broken!! I'm so tempted to go to my favorite CX course, Kelly Creek, tomorrow, but we're going to spend the day riding with our friend who is leaving Seattle for good and riding his bike to Austin, TX. So we'll ride out to Fall City together for one last round of fun, then he's off on the John Wayne Trail headed east and then south into Oregon and other adventures. [edit: Departure postponed a few days. We didn't ride to Fall City to get pie. Long Sunday rides were made for eating pie, dangit.]

I also got a call from Jane last night. She's down in Sydney, Australia, at the Masters World Track Championships. She's talking funny already and having the time of her life. I've never heard someone so utterly happy before. Besides making new friends in the international racing scene, she's already set a PR in the 200 and 500 meter races, and even came in 6th overall in the 500!! Being an unknown has its advantages, like being able to power around 2 Aussies who have completely underestimated your awesomeness. Now it's on to the Scratch and Points races and more kickassness, then some relaxation at the Great Barrier Reef. Eventually, we hope, she'll come back home and share more stories.

2008 is going to be a fantastical season!

Stupid weather

I was going to journey out to Marymoor tonight for the Wed night CX training, but October Storm 2007 rolled in a bit early so my carpoolees and I decided to call it a wash. A night of driving rain and plummeting temperatures while rolling around jarring divots of grass was not high on our list. Plus I've learned that I need to lean towards being conservative when it comes to exposing myself to immune-challenging elements, so I resigned my self to a night on the trainer while watching America's Next Top Model (dude it's my show!).

I was so jazzed all day to get on my cross bike and see how my fitness is doing. I watched a few YouTube videos at work of Pros gliding over barriers like they don't even exist. I visualized my dismounts and remounts, my off-camber lack-of-ability, and general fun playing with my friends. The World's Greatest Boyfriend even helped me prep my bike last night when he noticed how tired I was and couldn't think straight. He put on my smaller chainring, took some links out of the chain, and even fixed my squeaky front brake so I wouldn't be a total gomer at practice. He is a real prince to put up with a frustrated, tired, grumpy girl at 11 o'clock at night.

But the stupid weather intervened and postponed my excitement. It's been raining since...oh I dunno......LAST JUNE. Snow up in the hills though. This rain must be good for something besides salmon. Time to think of the 2-planking kind.

All a-twitter

Heather and I owe the bike goddesses many bouquets of flowers because yesterday we did the Kitsap Color Classic fun ride despite tales of rainy armageddon from local weathermen. Turns out that we only got a slight misting in one section and counted 1...2..3..4...5(!) rainbows! It was a really fun day when it felt so good riding just for the heck of it and not worrying about keeping up with anyone. After the first 2 miles of weaving through the phreds, we found ourselves on our own with just the colorful trees, random cows and horses, and spectacularly formed gray clouds above. There were plenty of big hills that felt REALLY good to power up. Yes - power up. I find myself getting my power back slowly but steadily. We did about 38 miles, which was the furthest I've ridden since my last race at Tour de Dung on April 1. Today I think I can say, "I'm coming back."

With that going through my veins, I'm checking out all the pictures from cross races this past weekend. Down in Portland it was their first Cross Crusade race with over 1000 racers! I am jonsin' so hard to do a race that my foot is tap-tap-tappin' away at the thought. Now I'm thinking it could be quite possible to sneak a few in at the end of the season. Drive and determination can take you so far!

A few of my favorite snaps from yesterday's Cross Crusade, from BikePortland.org:




Yup that pretty much sums up why I love cross so much.

Stupid labs, part 2

I've found that having a slight meltdown on the phone with both of your doctors will do wonders in having them jump and find the answers the quell your fear. When I first talked to Peter he said not to pay attention to the high lab numbers and "it could be worse", which is the LAST THING to tell a patient when she thinks she'll be relegated to the couch for the rest of her life. I faxed him the labs and he passed them around the office. He called 2 hours later with the CDC website in front on him explaining what everything meant. Essentially, 3 of the lab numbers have gone down, which is good, and I can ignore the number that went up because the CDC says to ignore it (and I paid for this test because????). My numbers are so high because I've had such a severe case and they actually are evidence that something happened in the past, not right now, and it could take years for the numbers to go down to normal. Peter likened it to dead soldiers on a battlefield. Just because they're all around doesn't mean the fight is still on. He managed to talk me off the cliff with that one.

In the meantime I had left a panicked message with my other doctor. It took her almost 30 hours to get back to me, in which time I figured she realized I'm a kook and had her number changed. Finally her assistant called and put me at ease by saying she had good news and was going to make me feel better. She had the same message as Peter, that the numbers were actually good and not an indication of a current infection. My body was doing very well and healing.

So with this info I'm slightly more encouraged to order our new kit for 2008, although I'm skeptical of how the designs will turn out. Polka dots? Oh please kill me! Some of us will never be climbers, dude. Give me solid black wool and I'll be happy. A skinsuit out of black wool? Ok maybe not. Just give me something to make me look fast.

I am annoyed

I got my labs back from my latest EBV tests. I was expecting my numbers to continue their positive trend south, which would be a expected with all the dragon poo I've been drinking and sitting on my ass the past 6 months. But no. My Nuclear Ab numbers went UP. I was 647 in June and now I'm at 1001. Normals are <100. My highest last year was 1736 when I was really on my ass. I was shooting for sub-300 so I'm a little numb with shock and a fair dose of denial. I'll call Dr. Peter tomorrow and see what he says, but I think his bag of tricks is pretty empty. I've been feeling rather excellent and have begun the arduous phase of getting my cardio back, but if my numbers are so screwed I'll never know if I'm getting sick again until it's too late. If you can't count on data to tell you how your health is then what is there?

I had started a cleansing diet this week to try and reboot my system after all the crap it's been through the past 6 months, esp in anticipation of my new "better" numbers. But now those bottles of wine are looking mighty tasty.

Stupid dumb body health stuff. Leave me alone!!!!!!!!

-----------------

Ok after a short pity party, I found some inspiring information about athletes with chronic fatigue syndrome. It turns out that US Women's Soccer Team star Michele Akers has suffered with it for years, but managed to control it enough to stay at her elite level before retiring. Says she:

"It's taken me three years to get back. When I first decided to take six months off and tried training again, I was in the weight room, like, 15 minutes, and then I could go on a five-minute walk/ jog. It's taken me three years to get my body back.....I never know who is going to show up on the field, who I'm going to be from day to day. So to hear my coach say today that he's so proud of me, that they need me on the field to win, was good. I disappoint myself so much because I know what kind of player I can be. But I've learned I can contribute in spite of [limitations on] my playing ability."

Maybe all is not lost. Rest, recouperate, moderation, keep playing. I can do that.

Goat Justice League prevails

When I read about this group I thought it was some offshoot from the Superfriends Hall of Justice. Whether they wear capes or not, they've cleared the way for me to have cute little goat friends at my home in Seattle. Just like the GJL's president, I could have half a gallon of fresh goat milk every day and make goat cheese while all the little buggers care about is eating negligent landscaping.


Now if I could just get out of my condo and into a residential address I'd be all set. Seattle Tilth is planning goat husbandry classes so I'll take this one step at a time. Goat cheese and wine party coming soon!!

Smells like cross season

My words of the day: "Not being able to race BLOWS." We went to watch Starcrossed last night and my muscles started to quiver and my legs wanted to chase people down, but I was in Keens and jeans so that wasn't going to happen. It also sucked to hear stories from fellow racers who have moved up to Cat 3 this year, racers that I was easily beating before on a singlespeed. It's like being in school and being held back. The class you were supposed to graduate with is proceeding as usual and you're hanging with the slow kids who pick their nose. I've toyed with the idea of building my base back up for a few months and then doing a few cross races at the end of the season (when everyone else is tired! brilliant tactic!), but in Reality Land that's just a day dreaming fantasy and not terribly smart. But hell, who doesn't want to be part of a racing community that's all about mud, cold, rain, beer, and utter insanity? That in itself is reason to get out of bed on a Sunday morning and challenge everything safe and normal.

Otherwise, it's freakin' cold out there, summer has officially checked out and it smells even more like snow is in the air. Hopefully that's on tap because Zack just got his second pair of tele skis in a week so the boy needs something to ride them on. I'm eager to take out my pretty blue tele skis again after a year off (note: never ever lose track of other interests in racing's off season). My goal this year is to deftly negotiate blue runs without feeling like I'm jumping off a skyscraper.

Our team is looking mighty fine for the 2008 season. We've snagged one girl from another team and recruited two magnanimous ladies who have never raced before, but have their own stellar athletic backgrounds. Little things like, oh I dunno, mountain climbing and Olympic-class rowing. And best of all they smile like the sun and laugh a lot, which goes a long way when the season has such huge ups and downs and it's all about having fun on bikes, right? The girls on our Sick & Injured List are almost done licking their wounds and laying down plans for winter training to show up in the spring to make up for a long, lost season. That in itself will add 5 of us to the lineup! That's half of our 2007 team!

I'm off to pull on my wool knickers and go for a ride. One day closer to charging out of the gate.

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.