Fun Run Report, is that a thing?

There's an antique shop in Essex that I ride by almost ever day.  Or, I did, when I was riding every day.  Until my running distances go up a bit I won't be going by it as often.  At any rate, they spell messages in the windows with big letters.  Sometimes it's something silly and religious about Jesus or something, or sometimes it's something overtly patriotic, which I can also do without.  But often it's something cute and seasonal, or with a fun pop culture reference.  It can only fit two shorter words, though, so it's like, Spring Sprung, or Let It Snow.  When the Hunger Games movie was coming out you could tell they were a fan and they wrote Odds Favor, which I thought was really cool because I was pretty psyched to see that movie.  Anyway, the other day it said Clam Run, because the Happy as a Clam 5K was on Friday.  That's a good segue, right?

So, I'm not a very good runner.  I'm not sure what it is, but whenever I see myself running I'm reminded of this:

For reals.  It's that bad.  But I'm trying to go faster, even though I look just as uncoordinated going (moderately) fast as slow.  My last 5K I set a new PR of 22:33, which is something like a 7:15 minute/mile average, and I was hoping to do 22 even this time around.  This run is a little hillier, though, so I didn't do nearly so well.  I also think I ate too much throughout the day (the race was at 6 PM) and, even though I stopped eating 3 hours prior to running, my gut started to revolt in the last mile, slowing me down by quite a bit.  My first mile was 7:05 and third was 7:49.  I finished with a time of 23 even.  Way slow.  But I finished 2nd overall for the ladies, won my age group, and was 14th out of 100+ overall.  So that was cool, and it felt fun to be near the front of a race like that.  Hello, Competitiveness.  Anyway, I know it's not the best idea, as my marathon training plan begins this week, but I'm going to go do a 5 mile race this Friday and try to fix my digestive mistakes.  

Isn't it sort of funny that my very fastest mile isn't even close to an elite women marathoners slowest mile out of 26?   Funny?  Haha?

Anyway, I reached a great place on Friday with the running, though.  See, maybe it's just me, but whenever I've been out of bike racing for a bit and I jump back in my predominant thought for the duration of the race is, "WHY?!"  As in, why did I pay money to feel this bad for this long?  That's how I felt during my first 5K this year, but at the Clam I was feeling at peace with the suffering and was able to focus on how damn fun it is to race and go fast (relatively, of course).  So, cool.  

In other news!  More boat repairs took place over the weekend, although no sailing did.  Centerboard compartment has been resealed (although we're looking for a more long term solution to a sort of silly design), all hatch covers on the amas (floats) have been replaced with new ones, so feel free to step on them as much as you like.  The last thing we need to fix (until the next thing comes along) is the trampoline, but we assessed the situation and have come up with a plan, it'll just have to wait until next weekend for the execution.  

And last but not least, see how, when the tide is out, the boat sits on the vata (main hull) and the down wind ama?   I was really concerned that when we climbed out on the top ama to fix the hatch we'd teeter-totter the boat over onto it and potentially do something really damaging to it.  Cody didn't think our weight would be significant enough to rock it over.  Turns out, we both need to go on diets because our weight was more than significant enough to rock it over.  The good news?  The boat didn't really seem to mind.  Can you picture us sitting out there in the mud with 6 clammers digging within 100 feet of us?  The boat starts to tip towards our side and we start running for the other side, but to no avail?  Hilarious.

B.O.A.T.

I've been telling this to anyone who will listen (and many who won't) but B.O.A.T. is an acronym for Bring On Another Thousand.  Right.

At any rate, Tri-oomph has been, well, maybe not exactly tri-oomph-ant (sorry, sorry) thus far.  She's an old boat, things have to be replaced and maintained.  We've been trying to get out for a good sail for the past three weekends, but haven't been quite able to get everything to come together for us.

Weekend 1

We had a "Get Our Boat in the Water" party (with fun party themes like that it's a wonder we're not the most popular kids on the North Shore).  A couple friends came over to help us put some finishing touches on some pre-sail repairs, then we trailered it over to Conomo Point to step the mast and launch her.  Stepping the mast was much easier than we'd anticipated, and once in the water the floats folded right out and we were, well, floating!  The motor had been sitting a while and Cody mangled his elbow on the boom while wrestling with the cord, but eventually it started up and we motored back to the house to pick up our friends who were bringing the trailer back.  We picked up two more who had missed out on the repairs but were ready for the party.  Full house!  But with the trampolines we can easily accommodate all 8 bodies, especially if you leave the jib off so there's plenty of seating up front.  We celebrated with a spray of champagne and cigars, as is befitting a boat of such dignity.  It turned out not to be the best day for sailing, as it was cold, and there was little wind and lots of chop.  We mostly motored, but hey!  We were out on the boat.  We missed the tide to get in and I owe a lot of thanks to my brave friends who jumped into the freezing, thigh-deep water to push us off that sand bar!  Anyway, rock'n'roll, the boat was launched!

The next day we wanted to get out, just me and Cody, and have our first good sail together on our new toy.  Unfortunately, due to rot (and perhaps exacerbated by user-error) we snapped our tiller in half 3 minutes out.  Shit.  B.O.A.T.

Weekend 2

As it turned out, we spent next to nothing on Tiller 2.0, thanks to a generous donation of marine plywood and our existing supply of epoxy (remind me to tell you about Adventures in Epoxy Mixing Ratios!).  We fashioned a tiller in the design of the original and, to be safe, sunk a number of screws down the length of it for good measure.  I had to work Saturday so we headed out Sunday morning to spend the day on the water.  You can guess what happened.  5 minutes out this time, Tiller 2.0 snapped in the same spot.  Shit.  Good thing we have a reliable 8 horse motor or it would have been a long paddle home.  Cody, understandably frustrated at this point, said, "F#$% it, we're spending the day on the water."  We anchored off of Hog Island and hung out on our boat for a few hours.  We finished wiring the solar panel, made grilled cheese on our propane stove, played a game of backgammon on the magnetic board Cody's mom had given him, and smoked our last cigar.  Finally we decided we should go home and get to work on Tiller 3.0.  Unfortunately at that point we'd lost our tide and had to anchor at Conomo Point and walk home.  40 minutes later...

We'd learned our lesson (probably not) and decided to beef up the design of the tiller.  Double layer marine plywood, extra long and thick shims, and a different kind of glue.  Tiller 3.0 was not going to break.

Weekend 3

Cody's brother, sister-in-law, and their kids came up to visit for the weekend.  The temperature was finally starting to come up to the point where long underwear and down jackets wouldn't be necessary on the water.  We headed out with our friend Aaron, Cody's brother and his little boy (safely life-jacketed, of course).  We had a lovely sail around the bay  for an hour and made it home while the tide was high (minus the broken hatch cover on one of the floats, but that's an easy fix).  Tiller 3.0 held!  Hallelujah!

The boys drank some beers on the boat under the spreader-party-light  that night.  In the morning Cody told me that, despite our warnings to guests to not step on the edges of the trampolines, where they're weakest, mistakes had been made, yada yada yada, one edge of the tramp had been pulled out of the boat, leaving a big hole in the plywood and fiberglass where the screw had ripped out and bending the metal track it fastens to.  B.O.A.T.  Seriously, though, that one sucks, and is not going to be an easy fix.  New rule of sailing on Tri-oomph!  No stepping on the trampolines!  Sitting, laying, or crawling are totally fine, but no more stepping down off the boat onto them.

Not to be dissuaded, Cody and I decided we were finally going to get out on the water, just the two of us.  We'd already gotten all of our boat bad luck out of the way for the weekend, right?  No more broken stuff (haha, right...).

And we had an amazing sail!  The tiller worked beautifully.  We sailed north and came up level with Halibut Point before turning around so we wouldn't miss the tide on the way in.  It was rad!  Our knotometer fixed itself (the little turbine that measures speed in the water had been seized, and it came free without any intervention) and we hit 12 knots!  The fastest the previous owner had gotten it was 14.  Cody was steering and I climbed out on the floats and leaned out to help flatten us out.  At one point we had the up wind float close to 4 feet out of the water!  Sort of scary getting out there, but that's what makes it so fun.

The only thing that "broke" didn't really break, but it's sort of a really big deal.  We have an off-set centerboard that pulls up into the hull, and the compartment that it sits in has a strip of plexiglass across the top so you can see what's going on with the lines.  We've got water coming in around the plexi into the cabin of the boat.  Ruh roh.  We'll need to pull it off (hopefully the epoxy doesn't rip the wood apart) and reseal it.

Okay, hatch cover, fix trampoline, stop leaking out of centerboard compartment.  Anything else?  Undoubtedly.

We're extra excited to save money, quit our jobs, and sail to the caribbean after yesterday.  Who wants to cat-sit for me?!

The Aftermath

From the outside I'm sure it looks like no big deal.  And really, as far as life's decisions go, it isn't a big deal.  But in my head the decision to stop racing bikes, and share that with my friends and family, felt like a Big Fucking Deal.

I've come to look at it the way one might approach a coming out of another sort.  For months I told myself that I didn't really want to stop racing bikes, I just needed to keep riding and doing my training and I would come to love it again.  At a certain point, after yet another unsatisfying training ride that left me not energized but sort of sad, I had to admit to myself that, yes, I'm  ready to stop racing bikes.  Then I started agonizing about telling my friends, team, coworkers - how would they react to the news that I wasn't a bike racer anymore?  Would they reject me?  Judge me?  How would I even tell them?  And in the end, being surrounded by all these amazing people, all those important people in my life accepted my decision and loved me just the same.  I should have known that it would be so; how could I have doubted it for an instant?  And I felt gratitude and relief and happiness - all indicators that I had made the right decision.

Sure, I can always change my mind, but right now I have no desire to race bikes at all.

No, instead I think I'll go run a marathon.

I've come to realize in the last couple weeks that the world is divided between those people who think it would be fun to run 26 miles and those who don't.  It's not a judgement thing - there are saints and assholes on either side of that line.  We all have our strengths, and wanting to enter races where I'll most assuredly cry with relief when it's over is one of mine.  Don't get me started on my weaknesses - we rearranged our house to accommodate (turns out spelling accommodate is a serious weakness of mine) a pull-up bar 2 months ago and I have yet to so much as try to do a pull up.  The very idea of finishing some sort of graduate degree makes me feel overwhelmed enough to curl up in a little ball in the corner for the rest of the day.  No, my strength is definitely in thinking things that physically uncomfortable are actually quite enjoyable (except the dentist.  Never the dentist).

So I've got a training plan to try to execute a sort-of not-hella-slow marathon in October.  I'm really excited about it.  I'm sure that in the last several miles (if not the first, oh, I dunno, 26) I'll deeply regret this decision, and I'm equally sure that I'll weep with relief when it's over.  I find this exciting.

But in the meantime, here's some pictures of random stuff.

 This is our boat!  Tri-oomph.   We haven't gotten it (her?) down here yet, but when we do, ooooh boy is it going to be fun.

This is our duck.  Taking a bath.

And this is me and Cody at Niagara Falls on the way up to look at the boat, looking oh so photogenic.

A Farewell

I've been racing bikes for 8 years, with varying levels of commitment and success.  My first race was the Cool MTB race in Northern California, and from that point on my life has centered around the sport of cycling.  It's brought many of my favorite people into my life (including Cody), strengthened relationships, and given me strength, confidence, and a sense of purpose.  It's made me who I am today, in many ways.  I've sacrificed a lot for bike racing - money, time, and experiences with friends and family.

I'm ready to move on to the next adventure.

I've been thinking about this for some time.  During our Christmas vacation I was convinced of it, but I had so much fun at nationals that I decided I needed one more season of cyclocross.  The last month has shown me that, no matter how much fun I think it would be to race in the fall, I don't have the drive I once had to put in the necessary work now.  Normally I feel excited when I think if my next opportunity to race, but now my mind just wanders to the other things I want to do instead.

I want to sail, I want to run, I want to practice yoga, I want to travel, I want to be a recreational cyclist, I want to go to school and get a job that means something to me.  I want to take vacations and not worry about getting in my workouts.  I want to not always be bike-poor.  I want to get rid of my power-meter and HR monitor and just ride when I when I want to ride (which is often), easy or hard, and feel good about it.  I want to be strong and fit and balanced, even if it means I'm no longer as fast on the bike.


It's sort of terrifying to step away from it (of course I could always come back) because it's defined me, at least in my own mind, for so long.  How will I be defined now?  Of course the answer is that we aren't defined by our hobbies, by what we do, but rather by how we do it, how we conduct ourselves.

Thanks, Bike Racing, for everything.  I hope we can still be friends.

The Off Season

The best part of having cyclocross nationals in January is coming out of the tunnel at the end of the season and realizing winter is half over and I have the next two to three weeks off the bike.  Those weeks happily fall during the coldest part of the year, which means not really caring one bit if it drops down to 5 degrees.

When I lived in Reno and my focus was road racing I would be deep into training at this point and fretting about trainer rides vs. getting cold and potentially sick.  Those of us with day jobs, or limited income, or dogs (or all three!), can't jet off to Arizona to put in the miles and work on our tans.  But regardless of whether your off season falls in October or January, it's a fantastic opportunity to recharge the batteries and refocus for the coming year.  

It's also a fantastic time of year for guilt-free Ben and Jerry's consumption.

Without a doubt, the best part about of the off season is the carefree approach to activity that it affords.  Whether it's running, easy rides, cross country skiing, yoga, or just going for a walk, it can all be approached with a sense of leisure that is impossible when we're training.  I love the focus and intensity of structured training - if I didn't love it I almost certainly wouldn't return to it year after year.

But the off-season harkens back to a time before bike racing was the point around which life revolves.  For me that time encompasses the two years of cycling I did prior to that first pivotal MTB race.  Memories of many of my rides from those years remain the most vivid, even after seven intervening years of riding and racing.  They were rides where every mile was an accomplishment, every descent joyful, and every gluttonous post-ride meal deservedly devoured without guilt.  I clearly remember my first mountain bike ride with my dad up Keystone Canyon in Reno (sans helmet, no less), and the first century I completed.  Every ride was done at whatever pace felt best, with no regard for training or recovery.

I remember these rides with the nostalgic wistfulness that we view so many experiences of our youth - with a bittersweet knowledge that we can never return to that place of innocent pleasure.  If I quit racing bikes tomorrow my recreational rides wouldn't magically take on that sense of wide-eyed discovery that characterized my early riding, but for a couple weeks each winter I am able to recapture a little of that carefree spirit.

I've done long trail runs with no regard for how long or fast I travel.  If I walk, I walk.  If I want to stop and just enjoy the woods for a few minutes, I stop.  I've gone to yoga classes and struggled to not feel (like all of us bike racers do) like I need to "win" yoga.  I've been able to rediscover that every physical exertion is not a battle, with myself or anyone else.  And when the time came to get back on my bike I rode with complete disregard for the cardinal sin of the early season, and hammered up every climb in my big ring.

Tomorrow I'll do a field test to determine where my fitness is at.  The next day, and the day after, I'll probably spend multiple hours on my trainer.  I'm excited to start training again.  I'm driven to succeed and be faster this year than last.  But I'd like to hang onto that immediate sense of joy in the ride, and knowledge that, amidst the daily abuse I inflict on myself to be stronger, it's important to be kind to the body as well.  While it may not always put out as much power as I'd like, or bend as far as some, it does everything I ask of it.

Anyway, farewell, Offseason 2013.  It's been nice.

Rewind Part 2 - Cyclocross Nationals!!!

When last I left off I'd just flown out of Sacramento.  I arrived in Madison to warmer, wetter weather than I'd anticipated when I'd packed my bag 2 weeks prior.  I had literally said, "If there's precipitation it is going to be in the form of snow."  We were racing the masters race the next day, Friday, and it was looking like it was going to be very wet.  As teammates arrived one by one, some of them with delayed flights due to some pretty thick fog, we cooked dinner at our rented house and got ready to race.

When we arrived at the venue on Friday it was no longer raining, but the ice and snow was melting and creating a big, muddy mess.  I did a couple laps on the course, and wasn't feel super comfortable with it.  There were big muddy descents with unpredictable ice patches under them.  Sometimes the ice felt faster, certainly there was less resistance than on the mud, but if you slid out you were going down fast.  

Masters 30-34:

I got a front row call up!  Coach Larry came up to get my jacket and told me, "Hole shot."  Right.  Yes, that would be nice.  The official blew the whistle and we were off.  I missed my pedal but just kept going without worrying about it - eventually my cleat would find its way in.  I was probably 2nd wheel as we went into the dirt, but I had a moment of doubt and got passed by a few people.  I was still feeling solid, riding probably 6th wheel, not losing any time.  The course went up a short steep climb, then down a descent that started as hard packed dirt and transitioned to ice and mud.  From there we turned right into the set of stairs, then dropped down a short, curving descent.  I was maintaining my position, and some of the girls ahead of me were riding the descent like ninnies so I took a chance on the icey line, hoping to make up a couple places.  Unfortunately I slid out, landed right on my butt on the ice, and slid down the hill while my bike remained at the top.  I had to run back up and get my bike.  I think I got passed by 6 people during the time it took me to do that.  So that kind of sucked.  But you know what was rad?  The whole thing was so ridiculously fun.   Even sliding down the ice was fun, if frustrating.  I got back to work, picking people off, but was mired by some slower traffic and by that point all the podium spots were out of my reach.  I ended up 7th, which was frustratingly close to a nationals podium.  I crashed one other time, this one in the pit as I got tangled on my own feet and fell on my bike.  You want to see what kind of damage a bladed spoke can do to your knee when you fall on it?

But here's the thing:  I had a great race.  My fitness was very good, my bike handling was killer (there was a long, muddy, sketchy descent before the barriers and every time I rode it the rowdy spectators told me I was making up tons of time on the girls ahead of me on it), and I rode the last lap as strong as the first.  I had fun the entire time, and actually wished they'd sent us out on another lap.  It left me wanting more.  That's exactly what bike racing should be.

We had one day off between races, and I opted for a short trainer ride to aid in recovery.  Other than that I tried to relax as much as possible and stay warm and healthy.  The forecast for Sunday was looking rather grim - predicted high of 21 degrees.  Ouch.  That means that all those footprints and tire tracks and deep ruts in the mud were going to freeze solid.

I did two laps on the course (while wearing my down jacket) on Sunday morning.  The first was while it was still early and everything was hard as a rock.  Sometimes you'd be riding on a smoothed out, if frozen, track and you'd hit an ice patch and get all squirrely.  I wasn't feeling very comfortable with it.  By the time I got out on my second practice lap the sun and been shining on the frozen ground for some time and it was actually softening up in places, even though the air temperature was still well below freezing.  The softening trend gave me confidence and I was starting to get excited to race.

Elite:

I had a decent call up, fourth or fifth row, but as I was rolling to the line I realized my front tire was feeling a little squishy.  Sure enough,  I had a slow leak.  My fabulous teammate Christina was lined up next to me and I said, "Christina, I think I have a flat tire."  She felt it and was totally cool, "You'll be fine, just to straight to the pit.  I've ridden on tires that low, you'll have no problem."  The pit was only a minute into the course so I didn't have to go that far.  I wasn't ready for the whistle, but managed to get going pretty quick.  My front tire squished around on the pavement and I dropped back, afraid I was going to take out half the field.  When we hit the dirt I found myself very far back amongst girls who weren't riding the half-muddy ruts very well at all.  The tire handled better on the dirt than the pavement, so I took some chances and motored around a number of people.  The turn before the pit was still hard as a rock and people were going really slow so I jumped off to run around it and went straight for the pit.  Then, I tripped over something.  Maybe my own feet, maybe just the rutted ground. I laid it out, landing on my knees and hands on the solidly frozen earth.  Ouch.  I picked myself up as quickly as I could and hobbled the whole length of the pit to where our crew was waiting with my bike.  In conversations we've had since the race it seems they couldn't figure out why a flat tire was making me limp like that.   Haha.  Anyway, got my bike and started rolling, passing as many people as I could. As I hit the climb I realized there was something very wrong with my left index finger.  I couldn't use my front brake, which isn't a big deal, but it also made holding the bars more difficult.  If it had been my right hand and I only could use my front brake I probably would have quit, since I would have been hitting the ground every 15 seconds.  At this point I was determined have fun, pass as many people as I could, and do my very best.  The course was very muddy, and the mud would freeze solid in a matter of seconds on our frames.  My derailleurs only sometimes shifted, the rest of the time they froze into place.  My fitness was good, my bike handling was good, and I passed a good number of people.  I ended up getting pulled after a couple laps, along with over half the field.  My glove was now tight around my rapidly swelling finger.  I headed to the medical tent and determined that it probably wasn't broken.  I got to cheer for my teammates who finished 11th and 12th.  I was happy with how I dealt with a bad situation, from the flat to the finger, and I truly enjoyed my race.  Again, what more can you ask for?

Anyway, the rest of the day was spent indulging in adult beverages and off-season food with my wonderful teammates.  I flew out with a couple of them on Monday afternoon, and was so happy to have friends with me while we were stuck in Cleveland for 4 hours waiting for our connection.  Cody picked me up at the airport at midnight.

Decompress.  After 3 weeks away it's great to be home.

So ends the 2012-2013 CX season for me.  I'd love to go to Louisville, but honestly I think I'm just ready for a little down time.  You can bet that I'll be watching it from home, though!

I had such a fun season, and I grew so much as a bike racer.  I owe all the thanks to my fantastic team, LadiesFirst Racing, our fantastic sponsors, most especially Milton Cat, my super coach and team director Larry who gave me all the tools to succeed, and my inspiring teammates and all of NECX who make every race a big awesome party.  Thanks to Scott and Seaside Cycle for giving me the flexibility to race, a job I love to go to, and access to the best equipment in the world, and my co-worker and buddy Kurt who gives so much to NECX, Ladiesfirst, and myself, every single weekend, and his mini-me Matthew for the race-day dogsitting.  Thanks to Oscar of rOti Cycling Services for keeping my bikes running great throughout this muddy season.  Thanks to my parents for always supporting me and wanting to hear about my races, my dad for taking me on epic rides, and my mom for always providing sympathy even for the most trivial of injuries.  Thanks to all my non-cyclocross friends who always root for me and want to hear about my racing even if they think I'm a little nuts.  And of course thanks to Cody for giving up his weekends to pit for me, preriding the courses with me and showing me the fast lines, talking me up when I'm feeling fat and slow, supporting me in all my crazy ideas, and being a constant reminder of what is really important in life.

Whew.

Post-masters race mud-shot.

Pretty cold on Sunday morning!

What a mess!  The pits were like a war-zone.

A little post-race locally brewed recovery.  My left index wasn't any help in holding onto the beer, but I figured it was sort of like icing it, right?

Haha.  

Rewind Part 1 - So Long 2012

I think it's Tuesday.  We rolled in at 1 AM last night after being delayed in Cleveland for longer than I care to remember.  I slept until 7 AM, when our neighbor came by to use the compressor in the garage area below our barn-house.  The sound of a compressor re-compressing itself for a half hour, with nothing between you and it but a pillow and a couple pieces of plywood?  Yeah, I was awake.  But then he left and I slept until 10.  Right.  I haven't slept that late in years.  I showered and talked to the cats and dog for a while, and was thinking of heading back to bed, but instead decided to makes some tea and toast and update the ol' blog.

I don't think I've written much about the latter part of my 2012 CX season.  Don't know why, it was pretty rad.  My coach had me peak for the last couple New England UCI races and, lo and behold, I was pretty fast.  The last UCI race was in Warwick, and on Day 2 I had the best start of my life, was flying, up in the top 16 or so, and then I crashed, and crashed again, and sort of fell apart.  That was disappointing, because in some ways it was my last real chance of 2012 to prove something to myself.  If I'd held it together and kept upright I think I would have had a pretty great result to show for it.  As it was, I was really, really mad.  At myself, primarily, and I used that to help motivate for nationals.  I figured my next big chance to have a great result would be the masters 30-34 race in Madison.  I got back to the tough training after Warwick to start building back up.  

The next two weekends we had some regional races - Ice Weasels and Regional Championships.  Ice Weasels was OK (super fun in the mud!), but my bike sort of wasn't working and I didn't have anyone in the pit, and the training was starting to take its toll at Regionals, leaving me thinking fondly of how freaking awesome it is to be at peak fitness.  It also coincided with some cold snowy weather, Christmas happenings, and a two week period of time that Cody was away for work.  What do you think happened then?  Yeah, my motivation went from 11 to, oh, -2.  I was happy to be headed out on vacation for a couple weeks, thinking that it would help me recapture that fire to win.  

Cody and I flew to Reno on Christmas day to spend a week with my mom and reconnect with some friends we hadn't seen in a while.  While we were there it snowed a ton, making for some rad snow-cross-biking and a couple great opportunities to get up in the mountains.  I miss the mountains.  My motivation was still low, but I did my workouts (most of them).  I didn't want biking to interfere with spending time with the people I was there to see, or the non-bike things I wanted to do.  I wasn't particularly looking forward to Nationals at this point, merely accepting that I'd be heading out there whether I wanted to or not.  I know, that's terrible.  Don't worry, it got better.

Anyway, we went snowshoeing, sledding, watched football, and caught up with some great friends, and family.  Cody flew back to Boston on New Years Day, and I headed over the hill to Grass Valley, CA.  We had a nice visit with extended family, then headed down to Chico to visit with the other extended family.  I rode my bike through Bidwell Park in short sleeves.  We ate at the brewery.  Then I rode my very favorite Chico-area ride with my dad, starting in Oroville and riding up over Table Mountain.  It is so ridiculously pretty out there, and it was so nice to ride in above-freezing temperatures.  Also, my legs were feeling not to bad!  The motivation was starting to return.  

I spent the next week in California with my dad.  We spent one day XC skiiing above Truckee (for 4 hours - hmmm, good nationals prep?  We'll see!), then went DH skiing at Boreal.  Does it make me sound old to say I haven't downhill skiied in 23 years?  Yes?  Shit.  Well, the last time I was 7.  I've snowboarded lots since then, and I think that must help because it was pretty easy.  We took a lesson with a woman who was 75, and still a ski instructor.  I hope I'm still doing what I love when I'm 75.  There's not a lot more to ask of life than that.  

Anyway, my week in California was great.  We watched 2 seasons of Breaking Bad (I had dreams about disposing of bodies).  The week culminated in a great ride down around the Sutter Buttes, which wasn't exactly warm, but was extremely scenic.  My dad got up at a horrifyingly early hour to drop me at the airport in Sacramento.  Next up:  Nationals!

A Snowy CX Ride up Keystone Canyon in Reno

 Snowshoeing on Mount Rose with my mom and Cody - 8500' Elevation, that's gotta be good for my bike racing, right?

 A Lentil Burger and Old Chico Crystal Wheat at Sierra Nevada Brewery.  So good.

 Short-sleeves on a ride through Bidwell Park!

My mom adopted this dog, Murray.  He's a doll.

Fuel to the Fire

Wow, is it December?  Has it really been a month since I've updated the ol' blog?  Yes, and yes.  Wacky.  

It's been a really fantastic month, though.  All my races from the second half of the season, and in particular November, were getting progressively better.  Fitness, starts, smarts.  And also just a lot of fun, too, which is pretty important.  

I had a podium finish at Northeast Velo Cross, then a great ride to 4th place the next day at Shedd Park in Lowell.  Last weekend I had two very good rides at the final Verge series races in Sterling, and then on Saturday I had a great ride at NBX in Warwick.  Really, I've been feeling great about everything concerning cyclocross lately.  But I guess sometimes being happy doesn't drive you to be your best, sometimes angry can work a lot better.  Which is why I'm going to call my race yesterday, Sunday at NBX, one of the best things that can have happened to me.  Fuel to power me through the next month of training before nationals.  

I had a good start, awesome power, and was riding with a group of very strong, fast girls.  For a lap and a half.  Then I crashed.  I was going for it and overcooked a corner.  It wasn't bad, but I landed on my right knee and lost a little skin. Okay, that's OK.  Get up, get going.  I might have lost one place to that. Then I was rolling into the smaller of the two sand pits.  I got off my bike to run and got sort of stuck and fell onto my bike, hitting my right knee again.  That one actually hurt.  Okay, no problem, get up, get going.  I was caught by a couple people here, and went to go with them, and realized my right shoe had come loose.  When I'd fallen in the sand I'd hit the little quick-release button on the buckle and it loosened way off.  Rats.  If you've never tried it, I recommend against trying to buckle a shoe while pedaling.  It just makes you look like an idiot.  Anyway, I rode around with it loose for a lap and a half, which was super problematic in the long sand run, and finally stopped and tightened it.  Also I think I'd jammed some dirt in my shifter or something, so I made a couple trips through the pit.  We'd practiced our bike exchanges prior to the race, and we executed one really nice one and one that left a little something to be desired.  Anyway, I rolled through somewhere in the 20's and super, super pissed off about the whole thing.  It was the last UCI race of my season, and I was in a perfect position, with good legs, to prove to myself what I can do, and all I proved is that I can fall apart after a couple minor crashes.  Meh.  

But I'm going to let myself be angry, because it will motivate me for good races at nationals.  Ice Weasels is next weekend, but I don't want to be angry at Ice Weasels, I want to have fun and get in some fun times with my NECX crew.  

Anyway, unfortunate day 2 race aside, it was a truly fantastic weekend, following a stellar month, with my super teammates, and our super duper support crew and cheering squad.  Why does CX season have to go by so fast?!

A couple good ones...

Okay, everyone stop, something pretty amazing has happened.  I had Two Good Race Weekends . . . in a row.  That's right.  Two consecutive strong, positive weekends.  What the...?

The weekend before last I did a couple regional races - Canton Cup and Orchard Cross.  I podiumed at Canton with a 3rd place finish in a smaller field, and had a great race with some strong riders to finish 6th at Orchard.  Seriously, Orchard?  I had a great start (!!!) and hung with the super-strong leaders for a lap or so.  That is progress, right there.  

Then last weekend was the Cycle-Smart International in Northampton.  I just did one day there last year and I really liked the course.  It's a power course with roots.  I dunno, not super technical, but it works for me.  And some good fast turns.  I like fast turns.  Both days I started poorly.  More so on Saturday, but Sunday was no clinic on good starts, either.  Both days I worked my way up to my teammate Christina.  On Saturday we worked together, but probably didn't use our strength very efficiently because we ended up getting attacked and dropped by two girls that were sitting on while we were attacking from the front.  Rookie move.  But it's not very common in cyclocross to find yourself in a position where you can benefit from team tactics, and we clearly weren't thinking straight.  Ah well.  We resolved on Sunday to be smarter if we ended up together.  I had to do a lot more hard work to catch up to Christina on Sunday - I think she had a pretty good start - and by the time I got there I was sort of worked.  This time I was hoping to get to the front and block so she could attack, but I didn't have the legs to move up, and I eventually got dropped from her group.  I was able to hold off a group of 4-5 girls who'd caught up, though, so that was really cool.  Both days I had really strong final laps, which is also cool, and a good sign of fitness.  I keep thinking if I could just pull my head out of my ass at the starts my life would be so much easier.  

The quote of the weekend definitely comes from coach Larry, yelled at me while I was trying to recover from my poor start on Sunday.  "Stop being so nice to the other women!"  It was totally what I needed to hear.  One of the chase girls passed me at the run up and I totally chopped her in the next corner.  Nothing dangerous, but I stuck out my elbows and got mad and didn't give her any choice but to Get Out of My Way.  I'm going to write that on my stem: "Stop being so nice to the other women."  

In the end I finished 19th and 20th, respectively.  Two fairly solid races, I just need to improve by, oh, 10 places or so and I'll be rockin' in.  It was a fun weekend with teammates and Cody came along to cheer and be awesome.  

Yay, two good race weekend, moving up in the world!

And I made cyclingnews, and not just as a "Ladiesfirst rider," but as me.  

http://www.cyclingnews.com/races/nepcx-the-cycle-smart-international-2-2012/elite-women/photos/243482

Yay!

Providence

I didn’t write a report for Gloucester.  Which is weird, because, you know, it’s Gloucester.  But too much time has elapsed and I don’t think I can do it justice.  Suffice to say I had pretty mediocre to poor races, but I really think I had the most amazing cheering section of anyone out there.  It’s almost like I’m a . . . local. 

Moving on.

Can we have a Monday holiday after every double race weekend?  Because sitting around, drinking tea, interneting, and actually getting my muddy skinsuit washed in a timely fashion is pretty rad.  Cody’s working (poor guy), and the remainder of the household has traveled north to see the brand new baby-in-law (niece or granddaughter, depending on where you stand).  They invited me to go with them and I’m all, “Baby?  Uh, does it race CX yet?”  But I digress.

Last year I had two pretty abysmal days at Providence (abysmal even relative to my generally abysmal season).  It was hot, the course was sort of boring and had a lot of pavement, etc.  And I was slow and off the back and there was nowhere to hide.  Anyway, I was hoping, of course, to have more fun there this year. 

I had no goals or serious aspirations regarding either Gloucester or Providence, I wasn’t targeting them for good results.  The fields are nationals-caliber, I’d be starting in the back, and it’s still early.   I’m putting more focus in the Verge series, where the fields are smaller, are almost strictly New England (which is fast, but weeds out some Olympians, Euros, and other pros), and where I can get some top 10 results to move me up a few rows by the time we hit Nationals, with any luck.  Nonetheless, it’s good to feel fast and competitive, and after being off the back at Gloucester I wanted to be racing where I belonged at Providence.

Day 1.

It was hot and dry.  Damnit.  Despite years of living in Reno (which isn’t nearly as hot as most New Englanders suppose it to be) and racing in NorCal (which is much hotter than that same group suspect) I seem to do really terribly in the heat.  On Saturday I had a slow start, a pretty blazing first lap and a half, then sort of wilted in the heat.  I lost 2-3 spots as I tried to survive the last 2 laps, wishing with all my heart that I’d mounted a bottle cage to my CX bike.  Whatever.  I ended up 29^th, so top 30!  Not bad, but nothing to get excited about. 

Then came the horrible aftermath.  I don’t think I ever wrote about what happened to me after the Willowdale MTB race in the spring, but I overheated and spent the next 12 hours on my back, unable to eat or drink, puking up anything I tried to put down.  Pretty much the same thing happened on Saturday afternoon.  We got to our hotel and checked in.  Or, Cody checked in and I laid across the front seats of the car and tried to keep my recovery drink down.  We finally got to the room and were supposed to meet up with the team for dinner, but I was in no condition to go anywhere so Cody got us some Italian takeout.  I managed a slice of bread and 2 bites of pasta with marinara, and a few sips of water.  Any motion out of the horizontal resulted in immediate regurgitation.  I’m sure I was delightful company.  After sleeping a couple hours I awoke at midnight with a raging headache but a subdued stomach, so I ate some more pasta.  In bed.  I’m a class act like that.  I also drank two glasses of water, which proved to be a vain attempt at hydration because I awoke the next morning with no relief from the headache. 

Day 2.

I told Cody, “I don’t know if I should race.  I didn’t eat anything, so I wasn’t able to replenish my glycogen, and I’m dehydrated and I feel like crap.”  He was all, “Shut up, we’re already down here, let’s get some food, and you’re going to race your bike.”  I’m paraphrasing.  Sort of.  The joke was that if I managed a decent race I would pioneer a new method of race preparation that involves fasting the night before the big event, and not eating after one.  Ha.  Ha. 

By the time we got to Panera for breakfast I was weak with hunger and about to murder a person for a pain au chocolat, but after stuffing myself with a breakfast sandwich and a pecan role, and OJ, and ibuprophen, I was feeling somewhat recovered. 

We went to the venue early to cheer for our friends in the amateur women’s field (right, cause everyone in the elite’s is pro?).  It wasn’t nearly as cool or wet out as I’d hoped, but I needn’t have feared as that would change later in the day. 

I got Cody to go pre-ride a couple laps with me – his first lap of a CX course!  Can we start a petition to get him to enter a race before the season is over?  Everyone wants to see him out there, right?  We’ll just have to make sure someone gives him a beer and/or bacon hand up.  Anyway, he’s got mad bike handling skills and is great at selecting lines so it was fun riding and talking through the course with him.  I felt alternately OK and awful, and really had no expectations for the race.

Just as we were sitting down on our trainers to warm up it started to sprinkle.  ‘Whoa.  This is going to change the course.  It is going to get slimy.’  Looking at the numbers on my power meter was making me sad, so I didn’t do much warm up and instead went out for a lap on the newly slicked up course.  It lived up to the expectation, but it was also super duper fun!

Fast forward . . . start of the race.  I’ll admit, I didn’t really “try” at the start of the race.  I settled into the back with no serious effort, which was sort of my strategy (start slow, and see if I can pick people off).  Given my lack of expectation it seemed like a good one.   The course started with a couple slimy turns, then there was an off camber straight away that was very slippery.  I was just planning on running it since I knew the first lap would be carnage.  I got off right before it and sure enough, there were 3 separate pile ups that I was able to trot around before jumping back on.  As I rode by the pit the first time I heard Cody say, “Yeah, great start, now start picking people off.”  Great start?  More like smart racing.  Good to finally put that stuff between my ears to use (apparently I haven’t huffed enough Vittoria Mastik glue this season…). 

Anyway, I actually was moving pretty good, and passed a couple more people before I bobbled a remount and hit the deck, with my leg wedged between my tire and my frame.  Seriously.  My right lower leg got stuck between my downtube and my front tire.  How the hell did that happen?  I can’t even recall how I bobbled the remount, I was just on the ground, stuck, laughing at myself, while 6-7 girls passed me.  Damn.  I had to laugh though, it was so ridiculous, and it took me a literal 30 seconds to disentangle myself.  Of all the stupid things. 

I passed a couple girls, and was riding pretty well.  Or, more accurately, running smartly.  There were some slippery sections where, if you rode them cleanly you were quick, but there was probably a 90% chance of sliding out on them, which made you slower than if you were running.  I just ran them.  It had worked at the start for me, so I figured it was a smart strategy.  And I didn’t lose any places from it. 

It’s sort of trite, but I wanted to mention that I tried to pass a girl, first lap, as we were passing the pit, and she tried to ride me into the course tape.  It was lame.  I passed her on the next straight away, then she passed me again on the pavement.  Then she crashed most spectacularly into the course tape, and I felt like, hey, maybe there’s such a thing as karma.  Cody says I should race like that, pushing people in to the tape and stuff, but when you’re fighting for 25^th place on the first lap?  Really?  I think that’s a little inappropriate. 

Anyway, myself and probably 14 other girls ended up getting pulled one lap down.  Which I didn’t mind too much, because I was happy with my race and I got to watch the finish where my teammates rode to 4^th and 7^th.  I do feel the need to mention, however, that they did not placed the pulled riders correctly in the results.  They took down everyone’s numbers, but when the put them in the results they reversed them, so the first person to get pulled, who was in 26^th, was listed as the last person to get pulled, in 42^nd.  I was the second person pulled and I finished 27^th, even though the results put me in 41^st.  I sort of figure that if you get pulled you shouldn’t be complaining about the results, but I’m quite proud of that 27^th place and I’m sort of embarrassed to be listed as coming in 3^rd from last after I had a good race.  So for everyone reading this, I got 27^th!  Now I’ll drop it. 

It was great to have a fun race after being so sure I was going to suck and quit.  I did fade in the last 2 laps, but given my poor nutrition the day before it’s pretty amazing to me that I had anything in the tank at all.  It was rad that Cody came down to the race and made me go race on Sunday, because it would have sucked if I’d just gone home.  Now I get a weekend off!  But you know what?  I don’t even want a weekend off!  I want to go race again!  That’s the sign of a good weekend, or at least, a good race.  Today’s supposed to be my rest day and all I want to do is go ride my bike!  But I have weird sore muscles and inexplicable bruises and an oddly sore left knee, so maybe rest is best.  Yay bike racing!  I really love this sport.  And you know what?  After Saturday’s race, when I was laying around feeling like death, I was thinking that maybe it’s just not for me.  Maybe I’ll never be successful.  Terrible thoughts.  But after yesterday, and a good race, and so much slippery fun?  I’m thinking I don’t care how long it takes, or how hard I have to work, I need to get to the front.  I want to be part of the action up there.  

Catamount GP

Whoa, what a weekend.  Yesterday I was just too knackered and scattered to put down my thoughts, but I think with the added rest and a chance to reflect I'll be able to do it justice.


It began with a cheerful drive north with two of my lovely teammates, albeit arriving way past my bedtime.  We were able to sleep in a little the next day, however, so it wasn't too bad.  On Saturday morning I was able to go through my super-relaxing routine of toast and tea, followed by some more substantial breakfast.  It was rainy but the sky cleared as we drove out to Catamount in time to catch most of the women's 3/4 race.

A couple hours before the Elite Women's race I got out on the course for a lap.  Ouch.  I knew there would be climbing, but ouch.  The nice thing was the climbing was in two big chunks, which were followed by fun, fast descents.  There were two lung-busting sets of steps, and some nice fast barriers.  Despite the rain the night before the course was dry and dusty.  I felt good about my warm up, good about the course, and sort of bummed about my last row call up, but it was a position I could only improve upon.

My start was . . . uneven.  I got going all right, passed some people, and then seized up.  I suspect it's more mental than anything else, but as we hit the first grinding climb I found myself going backwards fast.  My legs came around, however, and I was able to pass some pretty big chunks of people within the first lap and a half.  Suddenly I heard people yelling at me, "10th place is right there!"  I dug, joined a group of 2-3 at one point who were fighting for 8th place.  In the end I ended up 10th, despite almost face planting the final time through the barriers.

I had a hard time believing it until I saw it printed in the results.  My first UCI top 10!  My first UCI point!  And the funny thing was, it wasn't any harder than being at the back was last year.  In the (paraphrased?) words of Greg LeMond, "It never hurts less, you just go faster."

The usual post-race recovery eating, spinning and rehashing commenced, followed by dinner at the condo and an early bedtime.  The next day we were up a bit earlier.  It was cold out!  37F isn't really that cold I suppose, except when you're coming off of a hot summer and haven't had time to adjust to the chill.  Again I arrived early enough to cheer for the 3/4 women.  When we got out on course it initially seemed like it might be easier than Saturday, as we really only had one sustained climb.  At race pace, however, the dirt mound you had to ride/run over, the BMX jump you had to ride up, and the incessant accelerations ended up being equally tough.

I had a 2nd row call up, and I positioned myself squarely behind Crystal Anthony, Saturday's winner and former LadiesFirst teammate.  And I had the Start Of My Life.  By the time we hit the first turn I was 4th wheel, behind Crystal, Sally Annis, and Mo.  I wish I could say that I held that position, but I wasn't aggressive enough in the turns, and I ended up having to do the same game of catch-up that I had the day before.  Between a couple strong ladies who hadn't raced on Saturday and not having the legs I had the day before, I only managed 15th.  In the money!  (Because, you know, women's cycling is all about the money....)

Anyway, I'm looking forward to putting more pieces of the puzzle down in the coming weeks.  If I'm successful it's because I have amazing support from my team, coach, our awesome race mechanic, and of course my friends and family, many of whom have no idea what a UCI point is but still get excited when I tell them I got one.

Pictures!

With my race wheels on my bike was ridiculously light.  Every time I had to lift it I wanted to smile.  That's never happened before!

Below you can see evidence of my fantastic start!

Sufferface.  This was nearing the top of the climb.

Green Mountains of Awesomeness

I can't even begin to write a race report right now.  I'm incredibly scattered and excited and my thoughts are going a million directions.  I'll have to save it for another day.

How Not to Race Cyclocross - Quad

After being sort-of sick last week, missing some workouts, and really hoping I wasn't going to get gnarly-sick for Green Mountain weekend, I wasn't even sure I was going to go race the season opener, Quad Cross, on Sunday.  I wasn't sure the night before, telling myself "If I wake up and I feel lousy I won't go."

Then when I woke up and felt pretty OK, telling myself, "I'll head down there and if I feel lousy I won't ride."

Then "I'll start my warm up and if I feel bad I won't race."

Finally, "I'll start the race and if I feel bad I won't finish."

No pressure.  Stay healthy.  It's too early in the season to get laid out with some stupid cold.

As it turned out I felt pretty good the whole time, maybe a little sluggish after the unplanned time off during the preceding week, but not a hacking, snotty mess as I'd feared.

How Not to Race Cross

#1:  I had the start of my life.  I was third wheel behind Mo and Ellen Noble.  And what did I do?   I panicked.  "Oh shit, I shouldn't be here, I'm going to slow someone down and ruin their race and I should just let them go by me."  Seriously.  A split second of meekness immediately followed by, "D'oh!  The whole damn field just passed me!  Move up!  Move up!"  Yeah....  I'm now working on "visualizing riding at the front."  Seriously, that was just ridiculous.  That

Anyway, I made some good passes and caught up to my teammate and was pretty happy to be on her wheel.  On the fast fireroad descent I was sitting near the back of the saddle powering in my big ring when, after hitting a bump, the nose of my saddle was pointing skyward.  Yes, my seat clamp was torqued to spec, it still slipped.  This was not my error, but it brings us to-

#2:  I had a pit bike, but it wasn't in the pit.  Sigh...  In all the happy NECX reunion gibber gabber I was like, "oh, pit bike?  It's fine right where it is."  On my car.  As I rode by the pit with my saddle in a most uncomfortable position I hollered at my teammate who had raced earlier, "CAN YOU GET MY PIT BIKE OFF MY CAR FOR ME?!"  What a doll, she not only had to run back to the parking area, but had to figure out which car was mine.  And she made it back with my bike within half lap so I could get it the next time through the pit.  Gold star.

Armed with my wonderfully flat-saddled bike, I started trying to make up the time I'd lost.  Unfortuantely . . .

#3:  I didn't check the tire pressure in my pit bike.  Right?  Right?  I think I had 20 PSI in there.  In clinchers.  For those not in the know, that's not enough.  Not only was I hitting the rim over ever root, I washed out in two corners.  I actually thought I had a flat, my tires were so soft.  Fortunately, the next time I went through the pit they had my A bike for me.  With the saddle leveled out, bless them.  I think I said something like, "Cool, 'cause I have a flat. Fun day!"  I was informed the next time through that I didn't have a flat, I'm just a bonehead.

Anywho.

With much encouragement from the ECV/Seaside/LadiesFirst crews, I worked my way back up to the spot behind my teammate, albeit 30 seconds back or so.

#4:  On the last lap, I pinch flatted.  Pretty darn far from the pits.  I was trying to maintain my position and I got sloppy over the roots.  I had to run/ride super slow around to the pit, get a wheel, and finish in not-quite-last (which is pretty remarkable given how slowly I was riding/running).

C'est la course.

The good news?  I am so jazzed on racing cyclocross.  I'm fit, and lean, and so totally in love with NECX.  It's going to be a fantastic season.

Here's a picture of my awesome start:

http://spokenshutter.smugmug.com/2012Cyclocross/2012-Quad-Cross-Women-Elite/25293442_QS3bCt#!i=2078246864&k=tj5v6DV

And here's one of my saddle-nose pointing heavenward:

http://spokenshutter.smugmug.com/2012Cyclocross/2012-Quad-Cross-Women-Elite/25293442_QS3bCt#!i=2078248358&k=R7cMJbm

And here's one of my dog telling me that flexibility is overrated.

Why is my yoga mat always so gritty?

Thoughts on Training

Tuesday is generally my favorite day of the week.  I take off Tuesday and Sunday from work, you see. Sundays are full of riding, society, and sometimes chores about the house.  Tuesdays are all mine.  I can sleep as late as I like (wow, 7:30!!!), sit in bed drinking coffee and catching up on the internet, and then go out for my ride whenever I feel like it.  It doesn't make me feel especially productive or industrious, but it is really good for general feelings of well-being.  Usually I spend some time in there cleaning the house or running errands, but I do them at my leisure, which is exactly how I like to take care of such things.

After three weeks of hard rides on my Tuesdays, I've earned a rest week and all I plan on doing on my bike today is an easy spin with some cyclocross drills (I seem to have misplaced my practice barrier so today's errands include a trip to the hardware store for PVC joints).  I'm pretty excited about a nice easy week on the bike, as are my legs, which are sort of aching as I'm just sitting here.  But it's that building-muscle-ache, so I think I'm doing something right.  We're 3.5 weeks out from the informal CX season opener, and I am so anxious to see how much the hard work will show in my results.  While I agree that hard training and dedication are a reward in themselves, let's be honest, this is about winning races. Or at least coming closer than before.

Saturdays are generally the hardest day I have.  I've been up at 5 so I can be on my bike at 6 and do a hard 2 hour ride before coming home and getting ready to work 9-5.  I realized this past Saturday that there is an added benefit to getting up at such an obscene hour on a weekend day.  It's as though my body is still so groggy for the first part of my ride that it doesn't register what it's being put through, and my head is so foggy that there are no intervening thoughts to distract me from the task at hand.   It makes those super long, tough intervals go by so easily.

On Sunday I went out for a long, solo ride on my cyclocross bike.  I rode pavement out to Appleton Farms, cut through on the double and singletrack that run through there, rode through Bradley Palmer State Park and hit some fantastic singletrack that runs along the edge there, and then rode through Willowdale, hitting most of the XC race course in there.  The roots were pretty wet and slick, and I wiped out on one section, causing a guy on a MTB to catch me.  He stopped to chat and said something to the effect of, "Oh, it's a little rocky for a CX bike in here."  At that very moment, Tim Johnson (multi-time CX national champion and North Shore resident) rode up on his CX bike.  He proceeded to compliment my choice of steed, note that we were running the same tires, and invite me to ride with him and his friend.  They were heading in the opposite direction as me so I declined, but it was sort of a neat encounter, as I've not been in the area long enough to be desensitized to running into national champions on the trails.  Anyway, I rode out to Linebrook Rd. on the other side of Willowdale and looped back home on the pavement.  It was such a fun ride, I really can't wait to do it again.

Anyway, now I suppose I ought to make my leisurely way out of bed and do some things.  'Til next time, here's another Europe pic.  It's me at the Eiffel Tower.

All In

Whoa, long time without a blog post.  What have I been doing?  What haven't I been doing?

I did some more bike racing.  Didn't go too well, but it's cool.

I went to Europe for two weeks with my dad.  A week in Denmark,  a week in Paris.  It was indescribable.  I can't possibly write a blog post about it, seriously.  Maybe I'll post a couple pictures from time to time, but I wouldn't even know where to begin.

Came back, worked a bit, rode some.  My mom came out to visit me, and we're at the tail end of her visit.  Today we rode, then went for a sail.  I have a pretty spectacular sunburn.

That pretty much gets us caught up.

So what am I blogging about then?

Cyclocross.

Without getting into it too much, the time I spent in Europe opened my eyes to possibilities.  Endless, endless possibilities.  And I want to be free to explore those possibilities, without having any regrets.  Of all the things I anticipate regretting, top of the list would be never committing myself fully to racing my bike.  So this cyclocross season I'm going all in.  Okay, I'm still working 40 hours a week, but I'm approaching my training and my life with a level of serious commitment that I've never practiced.

How serious am I?  Pretty darn serious.  I'm not drinking alcohol until January 14th (the day after nationals).  I am, so far, 7 pounds lighter than I was when I got back from Europe.  I have done all the little extra things that make a better athlete - daily yoga, daily core strength exercises.  I have two gorgeous new bikes to race on.  I am on a fantastically supportive team.  I am going all in.

If I do something crazy next spring, like sail to the caribbean or ride around Europe (I'm not saying I will, I'm just saying anything is possible) I will have no regrets, no "what might have been" moments to look back on.

Okay, here's one Europe picture.  It's me and Napoleon.  Seriously.

Stages of Acceptance

Finally, several days after the fact, I'm writing about What Happened At Sterling.  It's taken me this long to process it and come to terms with, well, what happened.  

Basically, I got dropped on the first climb.  

Now, leading up to this race I was having some of the best training rides of my life, objectively.  My power numbers are higher than they've ever been, my nutrition has been excellent, and my life is very low in stress and high in quality sleep.  I spent the week leading up to it working on my mental preparation.  I have a beautiful new-ish bike that was functioning perfectly (well, until the flat tire, but that's actually pretty irrelevant), fantastic equipment, food, support, etc.  Shouldn't this equal improved results?  

This is how my emotions went during and after the event.

"I'm getting dropped."  - comic incredulity, in other words, disbelief.

To Cody, "I suck, I'm no good at this, I'm going to quit bike racing.  I'm a failure."  - bitter depression, obviously.  Give Cody a gold star for talking me down from the ledge, by the way.  Poor fella.

To my co-workers/family, "I don't want to talk about it."  - denial.  

And finally, "I understand what happened.  This is what I can do to not have that happen again."  - acceptance.

During my painful (Zone 5 interval) training ride today, I realized that I just totally choked.  My legs weren't so great, there were skinny people on the front making it hard, it was a steep hill.  I spent so much time mentally preparing for the race that instead of just riding intuitively and sticking on the wheel ahead of me, I started over thinking.  I got in my own way, stuck in my own head.  I want a do-over.  But there are no do-overs in life, just next time.  

I've got to go now, because Cody's coming home with baby ducks.  Seriously, guys, Baby.  Ducks.  Can we all agree that there's nothing cuter than a baby duck?  Of course we can.

By the way, I'm just joking about that whole stages of grieving shit, you know?  If the worst tragedy that happens to me is to get dropped in a bike race my life is pretty sweet.  

Seriously, there's going to be like, 6 of these at our house any minute now!!!

Racing Bikes is Fun

I've been waiting to write a race report for this one because I was hoping someone would put up some sweet pics of me looking competent on my bike.  After several days and nothing surfacing I've decided I should just write the darn report already.

The night after Quabbin I had this recurring dream that I was riding in a pack and the girl in front of me slammed on her brakes.  I'd jerk awake, only to have the dream again (that's why I used the word "recurring").  Anyway, I thought maybe I'd have more fun racing in the dirt, so I opted out of Bennington and drove to RI for the Battle at Burlingame.  As additional incentive, I have a shiny new Trek Fuel EX.  It's a sick trail bike, and I have it set up stock with the huge 2.3 tires that came on it.  Perfect for the trail riding I do out here, not exactly an uphill speed-machine, though.  But the whole point of racing MTBs is to have fun, and that bike is wicked fun.

Wicked sexy, too.

Cody was off at Highlands DH park for opening weekend, so on Sunday morning I loaded up my dog and my bike and drove to Charleston, RI.  I pulled into Burlingame State Park and the attendant at the gate told me, "You can't bring a dog in here.  They were supposed to tell you."  Um.  Crap.  It's possible that "they" did tell me and I just didn't read the small print, but come on!  This is a MTB race.  Bikes, beer, dogs, right?  "But you can bring your dog in if you rent a camp site."  Oh.  Ok.  Well, I drove all this way.  And it was just $20, practically free by campground standard rates, these days.  Stressful decision making averted, I paid my fee and parked.

I got my number, suited up, and realized I'd forgotten my gloves.  S&^%!  It's OK, it'll be OK.  What's 27 miles of trails without gloves?   (Did I mention the race was 27.5 miles?  5 x 5.5 miles.  That's pretty darn long for a mountain bike race.  I cat'ed down and raced Expert, too.  The pros did 33.  F&^% that.).  Anyway, I headed out to warm up a bit.  I didn't have a ton of time, so I rode out on the course for a few minutes, then back.  I had about 40 oz of water in my hydration pack, 4 Gu shots, and some Chomps.  I had some nutrition issues at Quabbin, and I was determined not to let that happen today.

We lined up at the start.  All 2 of us.  Yes, 2 expert women in the 19-39 age range showed up.  We started chit chatting and she asked if I'd pre-ridden the course.  "Only the first part."  "Did you get to The Bridges?"  Um.  Bridges?  Maybe I should have gotten up earlier and gotten in a lap.  C'est la vie.  We were sent off last, at least 10 minutes behind the pro women (of whom there were 4).  Anyway, I let the other girl take the lead as she clearly had spent more time on course than me and I figured I could follow her lines.  There was one somewhat large log across the trail near the beginning, and we were both off our bikes running over it.  One super-smooth CX remount later, I realized I had a problem.  My saddle had slipped.  Ok.  It's OK.  It's not that bad, right?  I stayed with the other girl until we hit The Bridges.

I really should have pre-ridden.  They were wide bridges, but they had these steep little ramps leading up and down them, and between that was all wet roots and rocks.  And it was sort of a long section.  I only cleaned the whole thing once - on my final lap.  Anyway, since I was off my bike sucking at riding up these things I decided I might as well fix my seat height.  I still have the stock QR seatpost clamp on there, so at least I didn't need a tool.  Seat up, moving on.  By this point she was out of sight.  Okay, it's OK.  There's only 2 of you, the worst thing that can happen is 2nd place.  (I spend a lot of time telling myself things are going to be OK.)

The course was mostly fast, hard packed single and double track, with fast, not overly-steep climbs and some super fun railing descents.  But.  There was one section that was clearly freshly cut, and it had all the annoyingness of a freshly cut trail that isn't terribly well thought out  hasn't been ridden on much, until 200 bike racers try to ride it at speed.  It was sort of up and down, with rocks and roots and no flow at all.  It ended with a rock roller into a loose, rooty chute.  Wee.  Again, I only rode it completely cleanly on 1 out of 5 laps.  After that you had a super fast descent, two short steep climbs, and then a bunch of grinding back to the start/finish.

The Bad

• I got 2nd.  Also, last.
• I ran out of water on my last lap.
• My seat slipped again.
• I got lapped by a bunch of dudes.

The Good

• I got 2nd!
• I managed to keep my head when I ran out of water.  "It's OK.  You're going to be OK."  I was.
• When I put my seat back up for a second time I tightened the clamp down more and it stayed there.
• Those dudes that lapped me started at least 10 minutes ahead of me.
• My bike is sick.  People would be catching me on the climbs and then we'd hit the fast descents and I'd totally gap them again.  2.3's might suck on the way up, but they're money on the way down.
• I stayed positive the whole race.  After the first two laps I was like, "Really?  3 more of those?"  But I rode strong the whole time.  I was exhausted at the end, so I left it all out there, but even on the last lap I had some power in the legs.

Afterwards I decided to stick around for podiums since the race flier promised "merch" to the Expert women.  They finally did awards 40 minutes after the race finished, but just handed stuff out, not calling people onto the podium that was 5 feet away.  Whatevs.   But you know what I got?  A medal and a $15 gift certificate to NBX (it's a bike shop in RI).  Seriously?  I work at a bike shop, and I'm never going to be in Narragansett to redeem a gift certificate. I was pretty pissed off that I'd delayed my long drive home for that.  Oh well.  I'm not bagging on the race organizer, by the way.  Okay, maybe I am.  But the race was really well put on, it was a super fun course, and for the average person who lives in RI and doesn't work at shop that's a pretty killer prize.  

But.

Hey race organizers!  Stop giving out medals!  Unless it's for a kids race or your event is called "The Olympics" it just ends up on a dusty shelf somewhere.  

Anyway, the good news is that without that medal I wouldn't be able to bring you this adorable photo of my dog.

But maybe the race organizers sensed my irritation, because they gave me the medal for 1st place.  

Now I can fool my friends and relatives into thinking I won.