BRC Shedd Park 'Cross Race

Finally, a course that I really enjoyed. Cold morning, 27 or so when we left the house. Cold enough that the ground was still frozen and there was ice in spots. And today was also the return of the Helmet Cam. Dug it out and put together some more video that's so hokey it should get me fired from my job. But hey, I can't really strap one of those nice Canon HD cameras to my helmet so give me a break. ( I really should have raced with it today. I know I'd get labeled as that geeky helmet cam girl but so what.)

Lined up in the second row. Since there was a long start that went 3/4 the way around a cinder track I figured I'd have time to pass. We were chatting in the back and I was wondering what was taking so long (couldn't hear the official giving instructions to the men up front and couldn't see so I just assumed nothing was going on). Suddenly, a whistle. Wah*&^^%%! The women all look at each other thinking are we supposed to go or are we getting a staggered start? Finally, the official stops us, gives final instructions and soon we're off.

Made my way up to 4th or 5th place off the track and into the 180 turn around a tree before the barriers. Passed one woman around the tree who faltered on the slight uphill and turn. Way too early and too easy of an uphill for that. Learn to shift, dammit! (God's going to strike me dead for having so little patience with my fellow riders. Either that or he's really going to make me biff it big time at Nationals. Probably in that damn frozen lake. Better learn how to swim quick!)

At the end of the first lap, I was still riding in about 5th place and wondering just how long I could keep this up. S and I had a discussion yesterday about how in bike racing, all the talent and training is meaningless without guts. She made me promise that I would ride until I coughed up a lung or ripped off a limb. I rode Plymouth last week that way but it was with the Big Girls so my resulting performance (last place) didn't really show my effort.

So this week, I vowed to ride just as hard. Sprint out of the corners and transitions, hustle up the hill, really hurdle those barriers and tear up the section in the woods. That was the plan. That's what I did. Although honestly, my running up the hill probably looked like anything but. The ground was still pretty hard so all the grassy sections didn't annoy as much as they usually do. I hated the twisty, hill bit but loved everything else. Including drafting any wheel I could grab on the slightly melted cinder track and getting a face full of mud. Delicious! I heard teammates yelling, I heard S shouting tactics and I even heard the crazy Columbian yelling at me from his car as he arrived at the race. :) Ride, baby, ride!

By the start of the last lap, the wheezing started. Usually, I'm not so pleased to hear it. This time, though, I thought of S and thought, "Geez. I really did hack up a lung!"

Don't know how I finished. Was passed by probably at least two of my teammates (Carrie and Shannon - awesome job!)

Now it's a whole week off my bike while traveling to SF and Seattle and two weeks off from racing. I'm going to miss it. :(

Home For The Holidays

Four days before Thanksgiving. 35,000 feet high. Almost 2000 miles from home. No, I won't be home for Thanksgiving this year. I'm headed to SF for two days of all day meetings, then up to Seattle to spend Turkey Day (Frank's favorite holiday?) with S's family. Flying to Thanksgiving, wherever it is always reminds me of the movie Home for the Holidays (which, of course, kept me entertained on the plane today. LOVE the scene where Holly Hunter's parents pick her up at the airport and as they're sitting in traffic she catches the eye of some other 35 year old "kid" whose parents just picked him up and is being tormented by his family in the adjacent car).

Last year, S had her ankle surgery so traveling was out of the question. Even to CT. So that means I've missed two Thanksgivings in a row with my family. And like every family's holidays, ours are always a bit crazy/stressful/fun/hysterical/loud.

The first time I took S to Thanksgiving at my house, she asked what to expect. Nothing unusual. We eat. A lot.

1. First there's Holiday Soup.
2. Then there's lasagne.
3. Then there's turkey with all the usual extras (including my mother's overcooked veggies. ;-) Hey mom, getting tired of me picking on those yet?)
4. Then fruit.
5. Then dessert.
6. Then more nuts and fruits.
7. Then more turkey sandwiches.
8. Rinse and repeat.

"And then we get to watch football?" asked S.

"Huh. Well, yeah, I guess. Not really. We kinda just sit around the table."

"Sure. But then what?"

"Huh? Then what what? We go to bed, I guess."

"At 4pm?"

"What?......I'm missing something."

"Uh...what time do you finish dinner?"

"Well, all is probably said and done by 11pm."

"You mean you SIT at the table from 1 until 11pm?!?!?!?!?"

Yeah, we do. And just for that, my dad made her sit next to Aunt Mary that first Thanksgiving. And THAT'S a whole other story.

Happy Thanksgiving! I miss you guys at home. Save some apple pie for me!

They Sure Are Pretty But.....

Saturday, while I was out racing, S spent four hours raking and bagging leaves. She filled 18 bags plus one giant recycle barrel full of those beautiful orange/yellow/red pieces of foliage that all the folks packing the tour buses in town pay big bucks to see. By the time I returned from the 'cross race in Land of Pilgims (a.k.a Plymouth), there wasn't a leaf on our property. I almost expected S to be running around trying to catch any ones that were spiraling downward to keep the lawn pristine.

Woke up Sunday morning to the view on the right. Uh oh. So much for no leaves on the lawn. This morning, after backing the Fat A$$ down the driveway, we noticed how it resembled a snowstorm with the parking space devoid of leaves.

Guess I know what we'll be doing next Saturday. Gotta go out and buy more bags.

Red Blinking Light

Walked into the kitchen after yesterday's race. Red light blicking on the answering machine. Hit play:

"Hello. This is Beth Israel Deaconess Radiology department..."

Sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Cold sweat. Stop breathing. I don't have an appointment there until March. Why are they calling now? My mind takes off and finishes the rest of the message.

"...we made a mistake reading your mammogram last spring and you need to come back in immediately so we can do further tests."

What she actually said was, "we need to reschedule your appointment in March 2008 from blah to blah"

Wow. The visceral reaction really surprised me. Kind of thought I was over all that. I don't think of myself as a cancer survivor. I barely notice the scars on my chest anymore. (I do, however, still notice my radiation tattoos because they annoy me. I figure if I'm going to get inked I may as well get something more interesting than blue dots.)

I suppose you never get over it. Despite the fact that I certainly don't sit around waiting for the other shoe to fall apparently there's some tiny part of me that still worries it'll come back. And if it did, I know I'd deal. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world - unless it meant I couldn't ride/run/board/sail. Then I'd truly be annoyed. So gotta keep doing stuff like that just in case that phone call comes for real.

State Of The Feed Bowl

Apparently, George was very busy last night.

DFL....And Lovin' It

Today was my first time racing "elites". I suppose technically Brockton was my first but that was a 1/2/3/4 field so I didn't really have a choice.

At the beginning of 'cross season, I petitioned the powers that be to make me a Cat 3 'cross racer based on my mtb results this season. I certainly didn't think I deserved the upgrade but really wanted to ride the longer races in preparation for Nationals. And yeah, also because driving a few hours to race for 30 minutes just doesn't work for me. Yeah, yeah, I could mix it up with the guys or do two races in one day but it just seemed easier to go for the upgrade. So I went to the USA Cycling website, pled my case, and stated why I deserved to get my legs torn off by women who didn't even seem to be breathing hard. And OMG! Diane said yes and sent me a little, official looking Cat 3 sticker for my license.

Imagine my brain as I pulled the Fast A$$ in the Plymouth High School parking lot this morning under a low ceiling, cloudy sky (looked oh so Seattlesque!), a temp of 38 on the car thermometer and a gusty wind rocking the Fat A$$ like someone was getting some action in the backseat. Geez.

Evil Twin: "What in world were you thinking?!?!?"

Me: "Oh, puleeezze. How bad can it be. So it's a little cold. I'll warm up in no time."

Evil Twin: "I ain't talking about no weather, fool!. I'm talking about fast chicks doing laps around you, over you, maybe even turning you into a barrier just for fun."

Me: "Nice. Thanks for that."

Evil Twin: "Too bad they already ran the "little girls" race. You can't even hang there. What were you thinking trying to ride with the big girls. Probably should just stay on the porch."

Me: "Only one way to shut you up. Finish the race without getting lapped. Prove I belong (if only a little bit).

Evil Twin: "Bite me. Good luck with that."

So that was the goal. Silence the evil twin. Finish the race doing the same amount of laps as the winner. Do NOT get lapped.

It was a very small field (8! wahoo a top 10 finish in my first elite race. ;-) ) I was riding off the back in 8th place before we hit the first wooded section. Every once in a while, I'd get oh so close to 7th (always in the woods - I surprised myself how well I rode the second bit of single track section) only to have the rider in front pull away on the straight-away pavement section immediately afterward. After I lost contact with her for good (3rd or 4th lap - still not sure how many laps we did. Cathy said 7.) I was in total time trial mode.

And it was brutal. Brutally fun. The wind was howling. On one section dead on into the wind, I watched my speed free-fall from 17mph to 11 on a good gust. Had it been a cross wind I think I would have been blown over. At one point I passed someone with a camera and noticed as I rode by I had a long string of snot hanging down to my chin. Now THAT's gonna be a pretty picture. My toes were also getting a little cold by the 4th lap. This course only had one set of barriers that you passed twice so I was only off the bike twice per lap. I think a run-up may have forced more blood into my toes. As it was, felt like I was going over the barriers on peglegs. I'm sure it looked that way as well.

One thing I love about 'cross is that as the course twists and turns, you're usually offered the opportunity to see how your competition is doing. Every time Cathy passed, I got words of encouragement. I tried to yell back but I'm sure all I did was grunt. With two laps to go, I was heading out into the wind across the grass section when I heard the announcer say the leader had just gone by and been given the bell. HOLY *&^%$! DO NOT GET LAPPED. I tried picking up the pace and as I'm crossing the barrier for the second time, here comes the Stars and Stripes jersey crossing in the opposite direction. Wah! Schizophrenia strikes again:

Evil Twin: "Told you so!"

Me: "Bite me! NFW I'm getting lapped. Just watch."

Back into the woods, touched the brakes only twice on each 180 turn and shot out of the woods so fast I almost ended up off the sidewalk and into the street. I sprinted up that sidewalk bit like my life depended on it and to some extent, it kind of did. At least the cycling part of my life did. Chewed up the twisty, hilly, grassy bits on the back side (with glimpses of the Stars and Stripes gaining on me) and sprinted up toward the finish line like I was actually finishing the race. And I did it. I was NOT lapped. And as I went by the officials stand, there were two guys (don't know them) cheering for me like I was Katie Compton. It was weird but hey, I figured their brains were frozen by the cold or their water bottles were full of pumpkin ale. But the rush I felt from not getting lapped and their cheers gave me a little extra for that last lap. I pushed it up each hill, sprinted out of each corner and rode the single track like I owned it.

I don't care if I finished last. I left everything out there on the course. I didn't let up. I didn't just finish. I didn't get lapped. Despite the result, despite the weather, there was some magic and beauty out there (snotty nose notwithstanding).

After the race, I changed out of my riding gear and into all the warmest, driest clothes I had with me in the Fat A$$. I headed to the registration area to find a cup of coffee to warm up with. The guys who were cheering me on the last lap somehow recognized me and stopped me.

"Nice race! You did an awesome job. It's not easy riding off the back. And on a day like today - cold, wind ripping through you, you can't even sit back and just enjoy it. Hard riding alone like that. Nicely done. True grit."

That warmed me up more than any cup of coffee could have.

And my awesome teammate, Cathy, finished in the money! Totally fun stuff. And earlier in the B race, Shannon took third. The team is rockin'!

Mt. Snow Made Me A Zombie

I was doing a little research at work (sometimes I REALLY love my job) and came across this SAAS photo editor. They have this cool Zombie effect tool which I thought truly relayed how I felt after my Mt. Snow pre-ride at Nationals.

Commuting Scariness

I've never commuted by bike - never really had a commute that was close enough. Actually, my Seattle commute was so short I walked since it really wasn't worth getting the bike out. And ok, I probably could bike from Lexington to Newton but the quickest way isn't bike friendly and the bike friendly way is a tad too long. I promise to try it at least once a week next summer.

S commuted for years: Cambridge to Children's Hospital, Arlington to Dana-Farber, Arlington to Bedford, Fremont to The Fred Hutch (in Seattle) and probably her most favorite the Seattle Flagship REI store to our 12th floor company penthouse complete with doorman who helped her with her bike. Sweet! :)

Seattle is way more bike friendly than Boston. There are more bike lanes and generally just more respect for commuting cyclists. Whenever I visit my Seattle office, I'm still amazed how many cyclists fly by the main intersection in Fremont. Even in the winter when it's super dark and dreary during commuting hours, there always seem to be just as many cyclists as cars. And don't even get me started about my company's "bike garage". Indoor space with racks for at least 100 bikes, a fully stocked bike repair bench with every tool you could want, lockers to hang up wet riding gear, even a prime parking spot for the "Bike Commuter of The Month". In fact, if you commute by bike (or walk), you get $30 REI bucks a month (perfect for buying fenders, courtesy flaps and Ortlieb panniers for those 9 winter months of rain. )

Given all that, I was pretty shocked when I heard from some cycling friends in Seattle about a Bellevue (across the lake from Seattle) cyclist who was shot with BBs loaded in a 22. Unbelievable craziness. I still don't understand what makes some people despise cyclists so much. Hope they find the guy with BBs for brains and I hope the cyclist heals quickly.

Forty-Five Minutes of Excruciating Pain

And no, I'm not talking about a killer 'cross race. I'm referring to what happens when the morning dawns cold and rainy, my nose is still stuffed from the cold-from-hell that I can't seem to shake and I resort to attending spin class at my gym.

I wanted to ride for 90 minutes. First annoying thing: why are spin classes only 45 minutes long? With 5 min of warm up and 5 of cool down, you're only doing 35 min of work. That's not worth me putting my shorts on. Geeeeez...slackers. I decided to show up early, do 20 min before class and another 25 after so I could get my minutes in. First 20 minutes rock. Literally. I have my iPod on and am happily jamming to my tunes.

The instructor shows up, throws on her music and I'm wondering if it's a joke. The Hustle? You have GOT to be kidding me. No, I do not want to "Do the hustle!" It's got to get better, right? Ah, that would be a serious no. Yes, I want some action and I love the nightlife but I hate the song. I'm stuck in a spin class of 70's disco hits. Someone KILL ME NOW! Next, we move to the 80's and we got Rick Springfield wishing he could have Jessie's Girl. I'm blanking out on the songs in the middle of class - I think I purposely pushed them out of my head which is a good thing. I've been coding all day with "I love the nightlife...I got to boogie.." ringing in my brain. I was even tempted to throw some comments in the code saying so just to see if anyone ever reads them. (I refrained.) We finished up class with some Dolly Parton song. Now, I seriously doubt Dolly has ever attended a spin class and even if she did, I don't think she would like spinning to her music. It should be banned from cycling studios everywhere.

But even painful 'cross races eventually end as did this class. I happily reached for my headphones but not quick enough. Mr. Clad-in-Full-Kit Dude sitting behind me comes up and wants to chat about my seat height (too high, he says, you're bouncing...). I thank him nicely hoping he'll just go away. But no, he wants to argue about it and REALLY wants me to change my seat height NOW no matter how much I tell him, "Thanks, but I like it that way." Finally, I've been pushed too much and not so nicely tell him, "I'm bouncing because I finally got some good music coming and my technique sucks but thanks for playing." He finally left. I was going to ask the instructor to settle our little dispute but given her taste in music I didn't trust her cycling judgement (ok, not sure how those correlate but she lost all credibility in my eyes when she got off her bike and started dancing to Alicia Bridges. Really. I'm not making this up.) I put on my headphones and finished up to Jimmy Eat World, Matchbox Twenty, Boys Like Girls and P!nk.

I REALLY need a spin bike for my basement (don't like riding trainers). Or I need Frank to move to Bahstahn and teach classes here (fat chance - she's a Cali girl through and through). Or I need spring to hurry up and arrive. Considering it's just November, I better find a spin bike on eBay soon.