The View Off The Back

This weekend was the Gloucester stop of the US Gran Prix of Cyclocross. Given that the course is pretty scenic, the race flyer usually touts that riders who fall off the back can enjoy the view. Let's just say I had a very scenic couple of races this weekend.

Saturday dawned overcast and around 40 or so. The forecast was for the sun to break through but given my race was the early one, it looked like we'd be racing under cloudy skies. We arrived around 7am, 1/2 before registration opened. Being a complete geek, I figured I'd take a lap with my sports camcorder. In retrospect, I'm glad I did since I now have video of the course but I truly feared being labeled that weird geek from NEBC with the helmet cam. Fortunately, there was next to no one out there so I escaped notice.

Fifteen minutes or so before the start time, I headed to the line up. There were about 26 or so women in the field and there were two fields to go off before ours, C Men and B Masters, with 30 seconds between each field. My goal was simply to not get pulled. Considering I hadn't been on my bike in two weeks due to travel, even accomplishing that was going to be a stretch.

The gun went off. Blake looked like she had a great start and considering how quickly she was accelerating away, I was hoping she'd kick serious butt and represent NEBC on the podium. I was probably about 15th or so onto the dirt. Definitely not good but not last! On the twisty grass section I was able to pass about 4 or 5 women by being slightly more reckless on the downhills and pushing hard on the uphills. Going into the chicane (which was easily ridable in the warm ups), a woman fell in front of me which caused me to go down. Quickly got up and continued on but I think some of the women I passed on the grassy section paid me back as I was down in the dirt. First time through the barriers, I felt smooth and pretty good but I was really sucking wind as I hit the lower section of course which was lots of twisty sections on grass and the sand pit, none of which are my favorites.

As I came up the pavement at the end of the first lap, I heard/saw Blake cheering. "What the f(*&^?" Turns out she was having shift lever issues again. Totally sucks. I headed out for my second lap which didn't turn out eventful until I dismounted for the sand pit. As I twisted my left foot out of the pedal, the pedal came off the crank. I clomped through the sand pit with the damn pedal still attached to my left foot and tried to think what I should do. Should I ride with one foot and try to pedal it back on? I thought I would definitely crash if I tried that so I opted to stand on the spindle with my right foot, twist my left and the pedal (Crank Bros Candy, if you're wondering) came off. I spun it back on but all in all, probably lost 30-45 seconds (felt much longer but I doubt it was), had a few more women pass me, but I was back and riding.

Coming up the pavement for the end of my second lap, the official was motioning me (and a few other women) off the course. I was somewhat confused as I hadn't been lapped yet so I asked what was going on.
"You've been pulled."
"Why?"
"Because you were lapped."
"WE WEREN'T LAPPED!", we all yelled in unison and pointed to the leaders in the men's field who were just entering the sand pit.
"Well, you would have been lapped on the next lap." was the official response. Totally sucked. Gave up arguing with the officials and headed over to the course to cheer on the remaining NEBC'ers.

Sunday morning was the complete opposite of Saturday. The stars and moon were out when I left the house and I was in Gloucester to catch a spectacular sunrise. Same routine as the previous day. The course was only slightly different - the twists and turns on the front, grassy side were somewhat modified and given that it was grass and nothing technical the changes really made no impact.

Again, there were about 25 of us at the start and again, I was about 15th hitting the dirt. Maybe even a little further up. And again, I passed people on the downhill parts of the grass early on. The course was a little harder to ride that day due to being chewed up the day before. I probably had the pressure set a little too high as I was bouncing quite a bit on the rough stuff before the Selle Italia chicane. Definitely had to dismount and carry the bike unlike the day before.

The rest of my race was uneventful. I kept trying to breath and not lose my position and was pretty successful at both. I concentrated on being smoother and faster through the transitions, accelerating out of turns and generally not puking on myself or the bike. Both of my pedals even stayed on. :-) Throughout the race I heard people cheering for me. At one point I heard a voice I recognized but couldn't place. Turned out to be my friend E and my brain on limited oxygen couldn't deal with placing her in an unusual context. Thanks to all of you who were screaming encouragement despite it being pretty clear I was pretty out of contention.

It's clear I don't have the fitness to keep up with the at least half of women out there but I was happy to at least finish and get a great workout, finishing four laps, not getting lapped and not getting pulled.

TSA Nastiness

I travel a fair amount and been through numerous security checkpoints. By far, the rudest TSA personnel are employeed at Seattle's SeaTac airport. They really seem to hire people who seem inspired by the little amount of power they are given to make air travelers' lives miserable.

Today I flew into SeaTac. As I was exiting the secured area, I heard one of the TSA's shouting at the lemmings in line, "People! Water is a LIQUID! You cannot bring water through the checkpoint! How many bottles do we need to remove and throw away before you get it! WATER IS A LIQUID!"

Had I been standing in line, I would have been seriously tempted to dump a bottle of water on his head. What an ass. I love business travel.

The Bench and Run

Yesterday was the 10th running of the Run For Wednesday's Child or as PFFC and I always refer to it, "The Bench and Run". The basic idea behind it is first you bench your weight (or half your weight for women), doing as many reps as you can. Then you run a 5k. For each rep you benched, you get to subtract a minute from your 5k time.

Last year was my first time doing the Bench and Run. I weighed in around 123 lbs. which meant I ended up having to bench 65 lbs due to the somewhat convoluted way they did the rounding along with the fact that they didn't have 1 1/4 lb weights to use. Fine. I did 27 reps. Not bad but not stellar. And my 5k time was 24:09. Again, not great. But I still ended up with 2nd in the Bench and Run division and 3rd in my age group for the straight 5k.

This year, I vowed it would be different. First off, I was determined to make the weight - i.e. be 120 or under. That would ensure me of only having to bench 60lbs where I could easily crank out over 40 reps. And I'd train, I'd be faster. I wanted first place.

What's the saying?....the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Donuts were my downfall. I've decided they're my best pre-race food and snarfed a few of them before the Sucker Brook race. Combine that with the appearance of the bottomless Hersey Kiss jar at work, and I was doomed. In actuality, I did lose a few pounds. After a long dehydrating run I weighed in at 119 four days before the race.

So I approached the weigh in knowing it was going to be close. Walking up to the scale, I ditched my jacket, my tshirt, my flip-flops, my cap and what the hell, may as well lose the watch. You never know. I asked the older guy running the weigh in if I could weigh in naked. He stammered "Ahh...no...". Cracked me up. After all that, I stepped on the scale and 123. Wah! But I was ok with it, having been practicing at the gym with 65 and could now pump out over 30 reps. But then, new rule this year! They rounded DOWN! I only had to do 60! Yes!

A crowd of about 50-60 people crowded around the bench. About half the crowd were police cadets (they're a big sponsor of the race) and they boistrously yelled for their guys. It was amazing to see some of these big guys bench 225lbs like it was a stick. Then it was time for the women. I couldn't decide whether to go first and demoralize everyone (feeling a little cocky, eh?) or see how much everyone else did and then aim to beat it. First to go was the woman who always just wears a jog bra. That was fine this year, but last year it was around 40 and f&^&% freezing. Even after the race while hanging out for the awards ceremony she was still just in tiny shorts and jog bra while I'm in sweats, beanie and mittens. Very weird. Anyway she does around 36. I figure I can do at least that many plus I know I'm faster than her. PFFC goes, she does 24. A few other women go and none are close. So I decide it's my turn. Now, even though I was supposed to do 60 lbs, it turns out no one brought the 2 1/2 lb weights. Which means, there's no way to make the bar 60 lbs. It's either 55 or 65. Grrrr..... So, I'm back to doing 65 lbs. Fine. That's what I prepared for anyway. I take out the pony tail so my head's flat on the bench, get set and lift the bar off the rack. Bam! Pump out a quick 20 reps and lock out to rest. I looked at the clouds and thought, how strange and neat to be lifting outside. But the clouds moving beyond the bar makes me a little dizzy so I close my eyes. I open my eyes, stare at the bar and bang out another 6 or 7 reps and lock out to rest again. Bam! Again, punch out 3 or 4 more. My arms are getting tired but I'm at 31 which is the most I've done at the gym. Now, I hear S, Trish and the rest of the onlookers yelling, encouraging, cajoling me into trying for more. Each one gets slower. The 36th one I barely get up. I'm toast. I get 36 reps. Same as Jog Bra Girl. I'm happy but I know Cadet Girl still has to go.

But before Cadet Girl, another woman goes. She's supposed to do 60lbs also. But for some reason, they round her down to 55!!!!! What the hell? Who changed the rules? Not fair! S says something to the judges to that effect but they don't care. Cheater Girl does 31 or something like that. I'm too annoyed to care. Then it's Cadet Girl's turn. I know I'm faster than her by about 1 min/mile so I can give her 3 reps. If she goes over 39, I'm sunk. And she does 40. Now, I'm really cursing that I didn't get to do 55.

Let it go...let it go.. think about the run. Run like hell and make up the reps. I keep telling myself that but don't think I can go under 23. Plus, it's 85 and humid which is totally weird for a Boston September day. I line up at the front right behind Cheater Girl who looks like she can run at pace close to mine. I figure I have to at least stay with her so she can't beat me. Gun goes off, Black Eyed Peas are singing on my shuffle and I try to stay with Cheater Girl. First mile is around a 7:30. Perfect. I was afraid I'd go out too fast and blow up. However, Cheater Girl is still pulling away. Push harder, go faster. Head's on fire - way too hot for this. Grab a cup of water at the halfway point. One sip to drink, the rest on my head. Second mile around 7:50. Yow! Too slow but there was a strong headwind so I should be able to make up time on the way back. There were two younger women running together who passed me about then. I tried to stay with them, even passed them once. One was encouraging me to go, "You got it...you got it...go!" I put the hammer down and tried but just couldn't. Too hot, couldn't breathe, felt like the fruit smoothie I had for breakfast was going to get tossed any second. I stayed right behind them to keep on pace. Finished in 23:49 or so. 40 seconds faster than the Race For The Cure two weeks ago so I'll take it.

Overall, 2nd in the Bench and Run. 2nd women in my age group. 6th woman overall.

Next year, no donuts. I'm going to make the weight. :-) And we're bring a set of 1 1/4 and 2 1/2lb weights!

Sucker Brook Cross

This past weekend was the Sucker Brook Cyclocross Race. It was my first cross race in nearly two years. And yes, it showed. And yes, it was still a blast.

It was a weird feeling to be racing cross on a 80 degree, sunny, dry day. More like a California cross race than New England. Note to my new pit crew (a.k.a. The Support Ho's): please have a bottle for me in the feed zone. Although given my current fitness level, I'm sure it wouldn't have helped my results.

We lined up a little before 9am. The field was probably around 60+ in four divisions (Men's B Masters, Men's C, Women's B and Juniors). We originally thought they were going to start us all simultaneously but fortunately they decided to go with a wave start with 60 seconds between the men's fields and 30 sec between us and the men and juniors.

My basic goal for the day was to not get pulled. My super stretch goal was to lead after a lap and then melt away. The plan was to sprint off the line, get the hole shot and attack out of every remount, hill climb, and turn. I accomplished not getting pulled. ;-)

The whistle went off and Blake was off the line like a bullet! How do people accelerate so fast! It felt like she was over the horizon and I hadn't even completed three pedal strokes! Funny how perception and reality diverge, though. As we left the pavement for the left hand turn onto the gravel road, I was 4th back. Not so damn bad! After the short gravel bit, we entered a long twisty section on grass complete with one set of barriers, 4 short climbs (one being one of those quick, short downhill-U turn-back up hill dealies), and some off-camber bits. I don't like riding on grass. It bugs me.

Leaving the grass for the woods, we tore up some double track with a few roots and rocks and one steep gully you could slam down and launch back up to get some air. That part rocked. The woods became the one section where I tried to recover on each lap. There was a sharp left turn where some guys were watching and every lap through I got a, "Go Surly!" which always made me ride a little harder.

After the woods was the dreaded sand pit. Actually, two sand pits separated by a quick bit of grass. I couldn't decide on the best way to tackle this section. The first bit of sand really wasn't ridable due to timbers making it kind of a raised sand box for kids. Then you hit the grass with more deep sand followed by a quick, uphill left turn on grass. I tried riding the grass and second sand pit and was successful doing so but not sure that was the quickest way. I should have spent more time there in the practice laps watching others and their approaches.

Anyway, after the sand was more grass, then asphalt where we originally started. Coming around after two laps, I barely breathing as they held up the lap card. Three laps to go. (!?!?!?) Seeing that, I thought I better throttle back because I was sure I would blow up before finishing 3 laps at the current pace. I don't think I was passed by any women in that lap but I sure didn't push to catch someone. In retrospect, very bad move.

As I came around for the next lap, the lap card read 1 lap to go. What?!!?!? Now, I was really confused. A distracting conversation started in my brain: Does that mean there's one lap to go AFTER this one? Did I hallucinate? Did I pass out during a lap? What the f*&^%? There was some other voice yelling in my head, "JUST RIDE LIKE YOU MEAN IT!" Finally, the little brain argument reached an agreement - they were ringing a bell, it's the bell lap. Just get to the finish and you're done! (In my stupor, I had been lapped by the men's leaders and in cross when the leaders finish, everyone finishes.)

So I put down the hammer and rode as hard as I could. I'd like to think I was flying but in actuality I was most likely barely moving given how hot and tired I was. I tried to make it look good for the Surly boys, S provided great encouragement in the sand pit (and all over the course during the race) and sprinted (yeah, right) up the pavement to the finish line just like with S on Mill St. Finished, done, happiness! 14th place. I wasn't last and didn't get pulled.

My teammates did well, too. 5th, 6th, 12th, 15th, 16th, and 17th. Go NEBC!

Now I'm off the bike for a week during a business trip. Looking forward to Gloucester (where I'm sure I'll really get spanked) in early October.

It's All Over

Wah!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, it's September and I've been back at work now for exactly 14 working days. I haven't posted in over two months. Cross season has begun, the Yankees have clinched the AL East, football has started, the leaves are changing, there's a chill in the air and I'm still wishing I was bobbing around the hahbah on the J24 with Danno (a.k.a. The Buoy Basher - more on that later). :-)

So whats blog etiquette when you haven't posted in over two months? Do I do a quick post summarizing what I did? Do I just skip it and get on with current events? I'm not sure...so in that case, I'll simply recap the highlights so I can remember them later.

Mid-July my parents came to visit and we went up to Kennebunkport. Interesting place and we had a good time. It's nice that I can still vacation with my parents and enjoy it.

TCB came to visit for a weekend, overlapping by a few hours with my parent's. This is how you judge a true friend - someone who sits on a runway in DC for something like 6 hours waiting for thunderstorms to clear in Boston. Originally slated to arrive around 6pm, she finally staggered to the back door around 1am, still smiling, though! Furthermore, a true friend also trusts a water-fearing land-lubber. She became my first passenger as I took a Soling out on my own for the first time. I was aided by the fact that there was almost no wind and that TCB didn't mind hanging over the bow to retrieve mooring lines, tacking the jib, or folding the sails. I think she would have helped paddle too had the wind not finally picked up. We were starting to think that I was going to have to dump her at Logan from the hahbah rather than drive her there for her departing flight.

I spent the next few weeks sailing with Dan as often as possible on Solings. We actually became more proficient and confident although there was one day when the winds were around 25 knots and we didn't have the storm sails on. Both of us couldn't wait to get the boat back to the mooring. Funny how those conditions can be so frightening when you're not experienced and a blast when you are. I wish I could describe the feeling of when you have the sails trimmed just right, the boat perfectly balanced and you're just flying over the water, tasting the spray. Yum!

Mean People Suck

As I was changing in the locker room at the gym today, a woman in my bank of lockers answered her phone.

"You moron!", she yelled at the poor caller who I assume was her husband/partner/boyfriend. She continued to berate the caller so loudly and viciously that I wondered why the poor sap didn't just hang up on her. It went on and on for as long as I was changing my clothes, tying my shoes, trying to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Apparently this person was supposed to come pick up her car for her so she went on to describe where she parked. "I parked to the left of the front door - in the spaces reserved for the PT/Surgery patients." And, of course, 5 minutes later, I saw her doing her workout on the treadmill. I hate mean people.

First Day With No Plans

Despite the fact that I've been on sabbatical for over two weeks now, today was the first day I experienced with no plans. Actually, I did have a plan when I woke up. Go out for a run and meet two of my sailing buddies for a few hours on the harbor. But the Big Dig struck again. Tragically, a section of the concrete ceiling in one of the tunnels collapsed last night killing a woman. Billions of dollars spent and the stoooopit tunnels leak and now collapse. Needless to say, traffic in downtown Boston was horrific today which coupled with the forecasted thunderstorms for the afternoon made us call it off.

So I found myself this morning, at 8:30am, post-run with nothing to do! I thought ever so briefly about doing some house work, putting another coat of paint on the French doors or maybe even starting the graphics for Rocket. While sitting there staring at my feet, I realized what I really needed to do was get a pedicure. And of course, once your feet look nice, it's good to treat them to some new shoes (in this case running shoes).
And then I went to the farmer's market to grab a couple jars of pickles (the spicy ones are wonderful.) I'm starting to really like having nothing to do.

Not Listening To My Own Advice...

I'm not sure I'll ever learn. A month ago I wrote about how if you want to do well in a race, some training is necessary. I haven't exactly been a slacker but I can surely say I haven't been focused on one particular sport. Some day I'm going to have to decide whether I'm a runner or a cyclist because apparently I can't do either one well unless I concentrate on one of them exclusively.

A month or so ago, I signed up for the Ryka Iron Girl 10k. It was held down in Marina Bay, Quincy. It was a pretty hot and humid morning and thankfully the race was scheduled to go off at 8 am.

Lately, my goal for any 10k is to run under 50 min. I would really like to stretch and make it an ongoing goal to run a 10k in my age in minutes. Maybe I should wait until I'm 50. Or in Sunday's case, 52.

The course was nice and flat. For the 10k runners, it was two loops of the 5k course. That's good if you're aiming for a PR since the first lap gets you well acquainted with the course. For those of us who are really just trying to hang in there, two loops of the same course gets old.

Before the race, I stretched on the pier. No one else was out there so it was a good quiet place to stretch and think about what the *&^%$ I was thinking signing up for a race in July and not training. Around 30 min before the start, I headed to the port-o-john line which was the longest I'd ever seen. Someone should tell Dave McGillivray (race director) that women really don't like to pee in the bushes like the guys and 13 port-o-johns isn't going to cut it for 1,000 women. Made it to the "start line" as the national anthem was being sung. It was too crowded to work my way closer to the front so I was stuck in the back with the over 9 min milers. Not only did that mean an extra 20-30 seconds on my time (that's how long it took me to get to the start line once the gun sounded) but I had to cut and weave my way for the first half mile before I could settle into a pace.

My splits show how I faded: 7:57 8:09 8:20 8:40 8:48 8:43 1:29

My watch time was 51:56 while the official chip time was 52:19. Bleech. It got me 17th place in my age group. If I was a year older, I would have been second. So I guess there is something to be said for getting older.

I did get a nice Iron Girl tech fabric t-shirt. And a finisher's medal. Overall, with the exception of the paucity of port-o-johns, it was a very nice race (especially for an inaugural one). And I should stop whining. At least I'm lucky enough to be able to run a 10k - and one with nice views of the harbor and the Boston skyline.

More Bahsten Speak

Overheard in the Women's room at the Garden before the Madonna concert:

1st Girl: "Do I look retahded?!?!? Do I look retahded?!?!?"
2nd Girl: "No, you look wicked good."
1st Girl: "Did you heah that dork?" That guy from Southie? He asked if I was a hookah?!?!?"
2nd Girl: "No, he did NOT!"
1st Girl: "Did to!"
2nd Girl: "No way!"
1st Girl: "Way!"
2nd Girl: "I think you look wicked good!"
1st Girl: "Yeah!! I'm dressed like Madawnner in the 80s! Do I look retahded?!?!?"
2nd Girl: "No, you don't look retahded! That dork's retahded! You don't look like no hookah."

Yeah, hard to believe, but I still love Boston.

Sweating With The Material Girl

Our friend C from LA has been visiting the past few days. Last night, the real reason for her visit became apparent.

I've always wanted to go to a Madonna concert. For one reason or another - bad timing, couldn't talk anyone else into going, fear of being mocked ;-) I never got to go. A few months ago, I heard about her going on tour and asked C (who is a self-proclaimed concert whore - she used that exact phrase, don't blame me!) and who has connections, to get some tickets. I'd even travel to LA if I had to. But it just wasn't possible. We couldn't seem to get tickets on dates that would fit both our schedules. And then a few weeks ago, I looked for tickets in Beantown and found seats going for a few grand in the front row. Yeah, right. NFW I was paying that even for Madonna.

So fast forward to last night. S and C decide they want to go to the south end for dinner (We went to Stella. Get the mussels. Yum!) but they wanted to go at 6pm. I figured, well, they're getting to be early-bird-special age but what the heck. Perhaps we could catch a movie afterward.

Halfway through the birthday celebratory bottle of champagne and the aforementioned mussels, they handed me a birthday card. Inside, two tickets to the Madonna concert that night. I was a bit confused since there were two tix and three of us. Were they taunting me and nominating me as designated limo driver while they bopped away to Ray of Light all night? Would I have to find a friend in the next 90 minutes to go with me? Was I going to have to pull some random off the street? Then it started to make sense..... S doesn't particularly care for Madonna's music, C was in town for really no particular reason....light dawns on marblehead .C and I were headed to the concert.

And it couldn't really be called a concert. More like a theatrical show. As the first song started (Future Lovers), this giant disco ball descended from the ceiling. And inside was this little, tiny blonde dressed in riding gear. It looked like Madonna. She sounded like Madonna. Who knew the Material Girl was so little! (I think my new mountain bike would fit her perfectly!

Our seats were fantastic. We were 17 rows back from the main stage and about 5 seats away from the runway that extended from the main stage out in into the middle of the arena. I was close enough so I could check out each pair of the eight shoes she wore. How she dances in some of those is a mystery to me - I'd have two broken ankles.

She played her heart out for two, hot, frantic hours and the entire garden danced and sweated like crazy. I found out later Madonna doesn't like to perform with AC on. Good thing I was wearing capris and a tank top. We were all burning up with her. And that's ok - I'll get sweaty with Madonna anytime!

And before I forget - every year I have a spectacular birthday and this year was no exception. Thank you, S, for the ticket. And C, thanks for suffering on that red-eye, buying your own ticket, and enduring my constant dancing all through the evening! You guys rock!

Meet Rocket!

Ok, let's get this out of the way right off the bat. Mom - I know you're reading and I know the very first words you're going to say are, "When is my daughter going to grow up?!?!" Well, Mom, I promise that when I turn 97, I'll grow up. At least a little bit. ;-)

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, meet my new mountain bike which I've dubbed Rocket. It's a Santa Cruz Juliana (size small) that had been languishing on the rack at Belmont Wheelworks for a couple of years. Poor thing was just waiting for the right "vertically challenged" woman to walk in and adopt it. I've been watching the price drop on it now for six months. Today, it was marked down another $200. I offered the manager yet another $200 off the asking price and got a deal. I've already swapped the pedals out with the Candy's on my cross bike. The handlebars are a bit wide for me so I need to get out the hacksaw and cut them down a few inches. Other than that, the only thing it needs is a custom paint job which I'll be doing myself. Just want to add a few Rocket graphics, a few shooting stars and whatever else I come up with.

The guys at work are very excited and are arranging a ride for me next week. That should be interesting. Hopefully, they keep it easy. And maybe I can even get one of them to help me adjust the shocks. Full suspension is totally new to me - I've got some learning to do both on and off the bike. Can't wait!!!

Fireworks!

Our friends M & M just recently bought a new sailboat. We were accustomed to sailing in their 36 foot sloop and last year we squished M & M, their twin boys (4 at the time), M's parents, another couple and their two daughters and the two of us (so, what's that - 12 of us) on board as we watched the Marblehead and Salem fireworks from the mooring in Marblehead harbor. It was actually a good thing last year as the weather that night was a bit chilly so we all huddled under blankets in the cockpit.

This year, on the huge, beautiful, gorgeous 48 foot catamaran there were only 7 of us. We had a BBQ, ate dinner on the outdoor table, and no one got sea sick. ;-) It was a beautiful warm summer evening and we had a great view from the trampoline on the front of the cat.

Best of all, M let me take out his new dinghy for a spin in the harbor. I actually managed to keep it upright. However, that doesn't mean I actually kept us dry. I missed the approach to the cat the first time as a small shower hit so we had to go around again. Got drenched. Good thing I planned on capsizing because it meant I had packed dry clothes. :-)

Happy 4th, everyone!

Graduation Day

Sailing

Today was our final day of the Learn to Sail course. We spent the entire day on the water, learning how to navigate, read charts (only thing I love more than maps are charts!), and more on trimming sails. We left the harbor and headed for George's Island by sailing south of Long Island and then heading up. The wind was a steady 20 mph so we zipped right along. Once we made the turn downwind toward George's we put up the spinnaker. The docs on George's made for some interesting sailing. We came in on fire, had to lasso a piling off the stern in order to not ram the dock. On the way back, the winds were shifting and gusting making for some challenging sailing. But we all graduated. Luckily, they didn't make us wear the yellow foulies as our graduation gowns. ;-)

Bahsten

While heading to the hahbah today for my sailing lesson, I banged a left onto Commerical Street looking for somewhere to pahk the cah. The gahbahge guys were emptying the cans as I came up to the stop light. He looked over the MINI, smiled and yelled, "Cute cah!"

I love Boston.

Now THIS Is Summer!

Two days of sailing lessons down, four days of my sabbatical gone. Can we please slow it down a bit?!?!? It was a gorgeous day on the water and I have the sunburn to prove it.

According to the pros at the sailing center, today's conditions were superb. I'm sure they were but I found them pretty challenging. Everything happens all that much faster when the winds are gusting to 20 mph. Throw in the dead spots and shifting winds typical of Boston Harbor and things really get interesting.

Today's lesson was supposed to be on sailing off the mooring, getting on the mooring, man overboard drills and understanding the balance of the boat. We had a crew of three on our boat including our instructor. After rigging the sails, we nicely sailed off the mooring and through the mine field of other moored boats. Once out on the harbor, we decided to start where we left off yesterday and practice jibing. So we head on a run, and get set up to jibe. As I start pulling the boom across - BAM! - a huge gust of wind slams the main around and CRACK - a huge tangle of pulleys and lines comes flapping off the boom. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?!?!? Turns out we ripped the boom vang off the mast. Oops.

One of the other instructors came out on the launch with a replacement. He tied up along side and switched places with our instructor - she took over the launch while he repaired the boom vang. I had an interesting time keeping the boat on course while he was busy with that - my very first time handling the tiller and the main sheet at the same time. Happiness.

We finished the day practicing all our maneuvers. I learned a ton - including graduating from my knot ignorance of yesterday. I got to tie the bowline at the end of the day. I wonder if the boat will still be there in the morning. ;-)

Getting Dirty With Friends

I'm not sure what it is - the dirt, the trails, the competition, the beer but the Muddy Buddy is starting to rank up there as one of my most favorite races. For more detail, see the site, but essentially the Muddy Buddy is race you do with one teammate that involves mountain biking, trail running, obstacles and crawling through some serious mud. Sweet!

I did my first Muddy Buddy last year in San Jose with TCB. It took me a while to convince her to do it. I think the competition freaked her out a bit and oh, yeah, there was that shoulder injury that would make doing some of the obstacles a bit sketchy. She was a trooper, though. We used my Surly Cross Check bike rather than a mountain bike. While this bike is fine for 95% of the course, it toasted her on the first (and only) major climb of the SJ course. TCB may have run out of gas in the first half mile, but she was smiling so wide in the mud pit she had mud on her teeth. And best of all, she said she'd do it again. YES!

Two weeks later, I convinced S to attack the Boston course with me. Again, it took quite a bit of arm twisting but she finally relented. The Boston course was typical New England - narrow trails through the shady woods littered with roots, rocks and ruts. It was so opposite the wide open, grassy California trails. And instead of baking in the Cali sunshine, we had the wonderful east coast humidty to deal with. S and I lined up at the start and checked out the competition, marking anyone we saw as a threat. At the gun, S jumped off the line and held us in first through her bike leg. That was the last time we saw first place but damn, we had fun. Yes, fun - despite the header I took over the handle bars on one of the downhills. Somehow, having blood running down your arms in a race makes you feel tough. I don't remember what place we came in but I remember smiling like hell as we climbed out of the mud pit. And the first thing she said to me was, "I can't wait until next year!"

So now it's 2006. I was a no show for the SJ race due to a family commitment. TCB had to recruit someone to take my place. Made me feel like crap - she'd been training hard and even had a new GF Cake for us to ride. But I was out, A was in and the two of them kicked butt and came in 12th. Awesome!

Boston 2006 - S broke her ankle in October and it's still too painful to run on. Surgery appears to be in her future. TCB has to go to Singapore so she can't do the Boston race with me. PFFC to the rescue! Yes, I had to promise beer, supply much cajoling and build up the Muddy Buddy to be the greatest thing since the invention of the coffee roll (if you knew PFFC, you'd know why that was important). The day before the race it dumped 3" of rain on the course. On our drive to the race, the downpours were so hard we doing 40 on the freeway, wipers slapping like crazy, and the bike seat soaking up gallons of rain so our ride would be just that much more delicious. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to race in these conditions.

Fortunately, the rain died and we raced under cloudy skies (at least for the first 20 min). PFFC and I were closely matched - neither of us had to wait at the transitions for the bike hand-offs. The Surly ruled - that bike flew on the trails. Both of us passed numerous riders, handled the huge mud bogs on the route. Running was quite an adventure and I'm really glad neither of us broke an ankle given you could never tell how deep the puddles were. And they ranged from a few inches to close to two feet in some places. No joke. We ran and biked hard, dove through the mud pit and ended up with a 5th place finish in our division. Oddly enough, we would have placed higher in the younger divisions. Go figure.

But the best part - PFFC said she'd do it again. And she was smiling. But that could have been the 4 beers talking (yes, we stood in the down pours and closed the beer garden). Or maybe it was the guy stripping off his gnarly, muddy clothes down to his naked white butt and doing a little happy dance a few cars away. Or maybe it was the three cute guys who had to push the car out of the mud we had managed to get stuck in. I'd like to think it's the thrill of competition and getting dirty with friends.

MINIs On Top

MOT 2006

Conga line of MINIs heading up Mt. Washington

This weekend was the 4th edition of MINIs On Top and we took Nemo to New Hampshire to experience it. Now, I'm definitely not a car rally kind of person but this really intrigued me. Sunset on the solstice from the top of Mt. Washington. Plus, getting to see 250 other MINIs and drive some of the twisty roads in northern NH was also a draw.

We drove up Friday afternoon. I had reserved a room at The Inn at Thorn Hill in Jackson. I'm more interested in being up there in the winter for XC skiing, snowshoeing and boarding so wanted to check the place out. The inn was quite nice - the restaurant's wine list even nicer. There were tons of Harley motorcycles out on the road since it was Motorcycle Week up there. It would seem there's some kind of kinship between MINIs and Harleys - many of the riders beeped, waved and gave us thumbs up as they passed.

Saturday morning we took backroads to Loon Mountain to meet up with all the other MINIs. I'm totally jazzed to get side stripes, rally numbers and boot stripes for the car. Also saw a set of checkered flag floor mats that I'm lusting over. We drove the Kanc with a group of 100 MINIs or so and then cut back to Jackson to avoid traffic in Conway. We met up with everyone later for the ride up the Mt. Washington Auto Road.
I remember the first time I hiked up Mt. Washington via the Tuckerman Ravine trail. Surrounded by beautiful forest, then above tree line, nature everywhere. Then upon arriving to the top, you have to climb over a guard rail to get to a parking lot before you can get to the small group of buildings on top. That just seems so sick and wrong! I thought, who would ever DRIVE up here? How lame! Ooops...guess I'm one of the lame ones. But at least it was for the sunset (which we didn't see as the clouds moved in) and at least I was driving a MINI.

Father's Day Thoughts

Having attended a memorial service last week for S's "second" dad (more on that later), I thought it would be nice to write a few thoughts about my own dad and remind myself how very lucky I am that he's still around (and calling me for free tech support on his vintage computer. I think it's a ploy for a new computer as a Christmas present. :-) )

I have three early memories of my Dad but can't figure out which is the earliest. My Dad is an avid photographer so early on I became one of his (unwilling) subjects. I remember holding my baby sister for a picture the first day she came home from the hospital. He was taking forever to set up the shot and in the interim my sister decided to "spice" things up by filling her diaper. I screamed that the baby smelled. My dad laughed. I was a few months over three.

The second memory is of sitting in a very small motor boat , fishing with my dad in the middle of Long Island Sound. There was a strong pull on my line and the two of us excitedly reeled it in. We were never quite sure of what it was that I caught - some huge, dreadfully ugly creature that I think that to this day makes me squeamish about swimming in salt water. I have a distinct memory of even my dad being frightened by this thing - which in turn freaked me out even more. He quickly cut the line letting it sink back to the bottom. Now that I think about it, I don't remember it splashing or moving. Perhaps it was Jimmy Hoffa. Nah - it was too far back for that. ;-)

My third early memory is begging my dad to take the training wheels off my bike. We had gone to visit some family friends and my friend was already riding a two wheeler. There was absolutely no-way-Jose that I was going to be outdone. I (respectfully, I hope) demanded that he remove those dorky training wheels and teach me to ride. I remember it as a warm summer evening. We were in the courtyard of our apartment complex in New York. He held the seat, ran alongside and I rode the damn thing. Forty years later, I still love riding bikes.

My dad taught me tons of stuff and I can't think of one iota of it that has not been useful. I've learned enough baseball strategy to give Joe Torre a run for Manager of the Year. I can do basic car maintenance. I don't throw like a girl. I've learned some very descriptive Italian insults and when (and more importantly, when NOT) to use them. I've built decks, installed hard wood floors, and have put in enough hours doing plumbing and electrical work to know that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing (last year I managed to blow out the transformer on the furnace).

And now, I even get to teach him a few things - mostly about installing more RAM, PCI cards, and using Photoshop. So I can't complain about being his own personal tech support hotline - I kind of owe him. Happy Father's Day!

Summer Business Travel

I fear this could end up being quite a caustic post. I'm tired, annoyed and stuck in the airport waiting for a red-eye from SJC to BOS that's delayed over three hours. I've realized that there's yet another benefit to taking a summer sabbatical and spending it at home - don't have to share crowded flights with old Aunt Edna taking her first flight in years. Or sitting with the Brady Bunch and watching as Bobby reaches over the seat in front of him to bat Greg on the head while screaming, "I SEE YOU! I SEE YOU!" Yeah, well, if you keep that up, you little punk, I'm going to poke your eyes out!

Getting Dirty

Due to all the riding I did last week (not really, but it sounds good), I blew out the bottom bracket on the Merlin. Coincidentally, S's IF needed to go in for an overhaul. So this morning we found ourselves without road bikes but still wanted to head out for a ride. After hauling out all the trash and recycling (and there's lots of that because apparently one of my other sabbatical activities is basement cleaning), we grabbed the cross bikes and headed for the trails.

Two things: 1) S's "cross bike" isn't really one. While it is a Redline frame, it's been built up to be a commuter bike with a Ultegra triple, straight bars and mountain brakes/shift levers. Also, it has 700x32 smooth tires. This makes it awesome for commuting but not so great for trails. 2) the trails weren't their usual dry dirt paths. They were mud bogs.

We headed up Mass Ave and jumped on the Battle Road Trail on the other side of 128. The Battle Road was perfectly fine except for a few sand pits. It wasn't until we hit the unnamed trail in Concord Center that the fun started. At the first mud pit, I almost got so sucked in that I couldn't clip out and almost went over. The tires churned, my legs burned, mud was thrown everywhere. I made it through. Happiness! Turned around to watch S and saw her to do the super slo-mo-tip-over-sideways into the mud pit. Ew. Not so happy. Apparently, some bad-ass branch grabbed her back wheel. Bastard!

We continued on until we hit the next mud pit. Again, I made it through and fortunately this time so did S. Which is a very good thing because at this point, I was getting flack about the whole ride being a secret ploy to buy mountain bikes.

After getting a bit lost, we finally found our way back to trails we knew and 20 miles later made it back to the center of town where we stopped for some morning coffee at Peet's. I went in to grab the goods while S dripped mud outside. Came back outside to find her peeling slugs off her legs. Honest. I'm really hoping they weren't leaches because that would be just too nasty.

Ride of the day

Nemo's Birthday!

I'll use any excuse to eat a cupcake (specifically chocolate cake with vanilla icing).

Today is the MINI's birthday. The ultimate summer car. The go-cart on crack. My mid-life crisis. Does it count as a mid-life crisis if it was given to you as a birthday present? Probably. Especially since I kept threatening to just go out and buy one. And S was very tired of hearing me go on and on and on and on.... about the thing. Yes, I'm spoiled. Yes, I get presents I really don't deserve. But, damn, that's just one very, very, very fun car to drive. Just wait until it gets its rally numbers! More super - less size. Put a little un in your orthodox. Every red light is a new beginning. Take a new turn. Let's Motor!

Training is NOT Overrated

On a whim Wednesday evening, I entered myself in a bike race. Now, spring here in Beantown hasn't really been conducive to riding, at least not for a foul-weather wuss like me. In my defense, I have been traveling somewhat for work but really, that's no excuse.

But I digress. A few details about the race. It was a road race and for my division (Cat 4 Women) one lap of a 23 mile circuit that had 1300 feet of climbing. Now that's really not so bad. It actually should make the race interesting given that it was fairly rolling with maybe only two good climbs. But when one hasn't been training all winter and others have been (see, I really did have no excuse) one gets smoked in the hills.

The race had a controlled downhill start. And for the first 4 miles or so, I was feeling good! (Uh oh...bad things happen when I "feel good!". Boston Marathon 1989, for example.) I was sitting about 3 or so back, center of a pack of 25 riders. The course at this point was flat and the pack was rolling along around 20 mph or so. I was happy! I was like Lance! I was surrounded by my 6 other teammates! And suddenly, some lame-o who wasn't on my team was leaning into my shoulder and bars. Fortunately, we held it together and didn't go down (which most likely would have taken 3/4 of the pack down with us.)

After that near fiasco, we hit the first hill around 7 miles. It was a two mile climb. I held my position for the first mile and then it felt like someone hooked a ball and chain to my seat post. I was summarily swallowed up by the pack and then excreted out the back. Yes, it was that ugly. Ugh.

The next 15 miles are nothing to write home about. I thought I was dead last. Did I mention the head wind? Constant and strong enough to blow me around on the bike. I rode head down, cursing my stupidity for entering a race I had no business being in and thinking about S finishing Putney (70 mile road race) in tears as they closed down the finish line. The least I could do was finish. Stop whining. At least I'm not like 90% of America laying on the couch devouring junk food. Ick. It was grey, 45, hilly and windy but at least it wasn't raining.

Turns out I was wrong about being last. A teammate came up from behind. We hung together for the rest of the race and ended up passing two other riders. So we finished. It wasn't pretty but it was done. First race of 2006 cycling season for me is in the books. And it's pretty obvious I need to do some training. Duh. But that's what summer sabbaticals are for.

Wah!!!!!!!

There was only one reason I left Seattle (well, two - the road biking was horrible if you lived in the city). But really the main reason, was the oppressive grey skies, constant mist in the air and the fact that even on the best summer day, I never felt warm. This also meant I had to put fenders (and a courtesy flap - who the hell had ever even heard the term courtesy flap! - because even fenders couldn't stop the stream of rain) on my beloved Merlin. That's just sick and wrong. Anyway, I hated the drizzle, sprinkles, rain, showers, mist, and the hundred other words used by the weather guys to describe the constant state of dreariness. I even came to despise hearing the terms "sun break" and "areas of brightness". Ick.

Today here in Boston it's raining for the 5th straight day and you can see the current forecast above. I'm not happy. I'm headed to the gym now to ride a bike indoors that goes nowhere. That's also sick and wrong. Yes, I could go ride outside but right now the weather has made me cranky which in turn makes me a outside-riding wuss.

If this is any indication of what my sabbatical weather is going to be like I may need to go with my original plan and learn to surf in Maui.

Decisions, Decions....

Everyday at work we're faced with crucial, serious, big-league decisions: implement this feature or that one, add more resources or slip the date, take the risk of shipping with this bug or fix it, latte or double shot of espresso.... on and on and on...

Today, I'm faced with a crucial, serious and big-league decision that could make or break my sabbatical: this swimsuit or this one? Or both? Since I figured that this would be my official sabbatical uniform, I wanted it to be just right. I found two that I like. Ordered them online from Athleta (one of my favorite places to shop along with Title 9 Sports). They both fit great, feel like they'd stay on while getting trashed by the worst wave, and I just plain like them. So now the dilemma: which one? Or forget that they cost way too much for little pieces of sewn-together fabric and just keep them both?

If these are the kind of decisions I'm going to be faced with this summer, bring it on!

Kickin' Off The Blog

6 weeks! Only 6 weeks left!

It occurred to me while dealing with yet another management mini-crisis that I only have 6 weeks left until my sabbatical. That's right - a sabbatical that starts on June 26th and goes through Labor Day weekend. I haven't had a summer off since probably freshman year in high school - as in 29 years ago. OMG!

My employer is very generous. As a reward for surviving five years of work, we're given three weeks to do with as we please. I've chosen to combine it with 6 weeks of saved PTO for a total of nine weeks. DELICIOUS!

Many of my co-workers go off and do wonderfully amazing and rewarding things. Travel the south Pacific, wander through Europe, or some other incredibly wonderful activity. I have one central goal which sounds quite pale in comparison - get ready for this one - I simply want to wear out a pair of flip-flops. (And I already have them picked out as you can see in the picture. A wonderful pair of Chacos - yellow with orange daisies! Happiness!)

Now, of course, I will be doing fun stuff in order to wear out those puppies. First and foremost, I'll be learning to sail. I'm taking two week-long classes (Intro to Sailing and Advanced Sailing) at the Boston Sailing Center. Along with a one time class at night sailing. I'm already signed up and can't wait to start.

Then there's the cycling part. I want to REALLY enjoy racing 'cross this fall season. And in order to do that, I need to do lots of riding. So I'll be spending lots of time on my bikes. Another favorite activity. Not sure how I'll put any wear and tear on the flip-flops doing that. I guess I can always drag them behind the bike. ;-)

Besides those two activities, I plan on working out, reading, sleeping on the beach and just plain enjoying life.

And how does a Catholic girl like me overcome the guilt associated with being a beach bum? Well, I guess there's this blog. I can justify my time off if I chronicle it, right? And then when I get back to work, I can relive the experience and get psyched for the next sabbatical.