California Girl

You can take the girl out of California but you can't take the California out of the girl as evidenced by our snowshoe outting yesterday afternoon. :)

Doing The Best I Could With What I Had (Which Wasn't Much)

Uuuf. I've been avoiding writing a Nats recap for a week now. The pic (shamelessly stolen from cyclingnews.com) above just sort of sums it up. That's the winner of the 40-44 race lapping me and winning. Now, granted I wasn't in her race (started 30 seconds behind that field) but still. One of my goals all year was simply, don't get lapped. And I never was. And boom, at Nationals I ride my worst race all season and felt the worse I have on a bike since the "Just leave me!" bonking episode in my first PMC about 15 years ago. But I'll back up and tell the entire sordid tale.

We flew into KC on Wednesday morning. Unlike last year, the whole city was not encased in ice. It was cold but clear and the forecast was for a general warm up until a precipitous drop in temp on Sunday as a cold front moved in. I wasn't sure nice weather was a good thing - I tend to ride better in poor conditions. After checking in at the hotel and finding some lunch, I changed into riding clothes and headed to the venue to pick up my bike from the trailer (trailering the bike worked out great. WAY better than flying it.) Turns out they weren't allowing anyone to pre-ride the course that day, not sure why since it was pretty frozen, so I did three laps or so along the course, outside the tape. The entire course was built into a hillside so it involved a lot of climbing. The first half was pretty much uphill which peaked along a ridge. At the top of the ridge, there was a W in the course, uphill with wooden low barriers, downhill with a 180 turn back uphill. Then there was a downhill section, another set of highspeed barriers, another muddy run up with a treacherous remount area and then back on to asphalt. Overall, I thought the course was pretty boring - lots of grass (which, yes, did eventually turn to mud), and no real fun sections. As Anna pointed out at dinner Thursday night, when someone says they don't like the course what they really mean is it doesn't suit them. And I suppose she's right. I would have liked to see some sections on different kinds of surfaces (gravel, roots, etc) and some more sections that favored good bike handling skills.



My first race was the Womens B Open race at 9am Thursday morning. My plan was to use the race as a warm up. I didn't want to go out 110% since I really wanted to save something for the next day's more important race. Unlike my pre-ride the day before, I felt fantastic that morning. The uphill sections felt easy, the icy turns added some fun and I just love early morning races. I was happy. For someone who wasn't trying really hard, I rode well and felt like I didn't kill myself.

Friday's race was an entirely different story. We didn't race until 1pm so I had the whole morning to kill. Arrived at the course around 11am since it was open for pre-ride for an hour before my race. As I walked through the course, the juniors race was in progress and it was a muddy mess. All the frozen grass had melted in the the warmer temps. The bikes and riders were completely covered. It occurred to me that the energy sucking muck could really make the uphill section a painful slog.

I decided I'd pre-ride a lap before my race. Definitely much slower than the previous day, adjusted the tire pressure to deal with the mud and was amazed how much heavier my now mud/grass covered bike was as I carried through the W section at the top of the ridge. Ouch. As I finished the pre-ride lap, I headed over to the water truck to wash off the bike-didn't want to start the race with a bike already coated with all that crap. As I pull up to the line bike wash line, it disperses and the water truck drives away. No more water. Won't be back until 1pm. &^%$#
Nothing else to do but just start wiping the bike down with my gloves. Found a stick and started scraping more much out of the smaller crevices. Trish and S came over to help. We then resorted to standing the bike in a gross, muddy puddle and splashing water on it. Wayne saw the spectacle and joined in. I'm amazed that man has any hands left given how cold it was and how long he helped washing my bike with nothing but his bare hands.

Finally, it was time to line up. The wind picked up a bit and I dumped my jacket too soon (our race went off 15 min or so late) and began to shiver uncontrollably. My game plan was with my front row start was to mark the three women I knew were fast and follow their wheel up the long asphalt start, conceding the hole shot and just try to stay with them as long as possible. Whistle goes off 30 sec after the 40-44 group (Go Cris!) and I execute according to plan. Until the first real uphill section. O. M. G. I had nothing from the get go. I pedaled through that muck uphill like there was no tomorrow (because there wasn't) and I simply went backwards through the field. f*&^%$% I kept telling myself, "Don't worry. You can make it up. Just get into a rhythm." but it never happened. Women I beat by over a minute the day before we just killing me. On the downhill section, I would make up some time. I did manage to ride the muddy turns and sketchy areas well and passed two riders or so every time on that section. But then I'd get passed by 4 rides on the uphill. Two steps forward, four steps back. Oooof. On the third lap, I was headed to the top of the ridge on the bumpy uphill section right before big right hand turn to the ridge when I actually thought to myself, "Is it possible to continue riding while puking or should I pull over? Hmmm...I don't think I've ever seen anyone actually throw up in a race. Good thing I'm as far from the announcer as possible on the course. Don't need this pointed out." And then I started to get a real understanding of what it means to be cross-eyed during a race. Wow. I was done. Stick-a-fork-in-me D-O-N-E.

In the running world, we say, "the wheels fell off." I don't know what the cycling equivalent is but it was as if the wheels fell off. Ouch. Trish and S said it looked like I just simply ran out of gas. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't go any faster. It was miserable. As I cleared the last run-up and navigated the twisty turns, I could hear the annoucer saying the winner of the 40-44 group was coming to the line. Great. Wonderful. Could I at least avoid being lapped. She sprinted by me like I wasn't even moving, gave the two arm salute and all I could think was, "Crap. Now I get to be in her wonderful finish line photo." A permanent reminder of my lousy race and how I failed to reach my low bar goal of not getting lapped in the biggest race of the season. ~sigh.

I left nothing on the course. Just wasn't my day to say the least. Something to improve on for next year and hopefully, it won't be in KC again. I'm done with that town. More pics of the weekend are here but a quick slideshow is below.

Clueless

We had our first real snowfall of the season yesterday and it brought with it more than the usual aggravation. Our neighbor's driveway lies pretty close to our property line. Not that big a deal normally. Last winter, while snowblowing his driveway, he'd blow all the snow onto all of our trees and landscaping. Burying all of our rhododendrons and arbor vitae in snow just really doesn't make us happy. Especially since he has an area the size of a football field to blow his snow into. We just couldn't figure it out last year and came to the conclusion that he had no idea that the direction of the snowblower chute could be changed or adjusted.

So last year, we had a little chat with him - please don't bury our plants.

And then last night...

Imagine peaceful view from the family room. Warm and toasty inside, comfortable in the chaise, watching the lovely snow fall and making it certain we'd have a white Christmas. Soon, I hear the noisy growl of a snowblower. Ah..well, it happens, gotta move the white stuff. But then it sounds like a freight train is hitting the house. The entire left side of the house is getting pelted with snow from front to back. First the office windows get trashed, then the dining room and then I'm watching my french doors get bashed with snow. WTF?!?!?!?

S heads outside to have a chat with neighbor dude again. Yes, it's true, I sent her out rather than speaking with him myself. I figured I'd be too nice.

"You DO know that you can aim the chute in different directions, right?"

"Yeah. But...look, I didn't hit your trees! I went over them!"

"Yes, you did but YOU SLAMMED THE WINDOWS WITH SNOW! CAN'T YOU BLOW THE SNOW ON YOUR SIDE OF THE DRIVEWAY?"

"But then it would pile up on my side."

You have got to be f'ing kidding me. I'm at a loss. I don't know whether it's stupidity, laziness, or just blatant disrespect.

K & S....why did you sell? Please move back. We miss our cool, fun, nice neighbors.

A Realization

I love cars almost as much as I love bikes and shoes. It's a good thing that both bikes and shoes are cheaper. Usually. My winter car is an eleven year old BMW 318ti. I keep thinking I should trade it in for some newer, spiffier model. But with only 86k miles and most of the mechanical systems recently overhauled, I should get another 100k miles out of it. And that's fine - it's actually still a very fun car to drive. If I need something to get my pulse up even more, I'll take the Go-Kart-On-Crack (a.k.a. The MINI) out for a spin.

Since I have now admitted to myself that I'm not getting rid of it any time soon, I opted to buy four new wheels and Bridgestone Blizzak snow tires for it. Ordered them on online at TireRack. The whole package (tires, pretty nice wheels, mounting, delivery, etc.) cost less than the wheels on my CX bike. WTF?!?!? Then I realized that the bikes I'm throwing on the roof rack on that car are worth more than the car that's ferrying them.

Somehow, that just seems sick and wrong.

Stretching Limits

I've been very fortunate to have events and people in my life that push to do new things or do old things at a new, better level. If I look at snowboarding, I think of the time Frank took to what at the time felt like a bottomless dropoff on a cliff in Tahoe in the middle of a snowstorm.

"Umm....you want me to board down that?"
"Yes, you can do it. I've seen you board. You'll be fine."

We dropped in and sure enough, I made it down. Yes, I did fall a few times on the way but that was more a case of me bailing rather than committing. It was my lack confidence that caused the falls rather than lack of ability.

I had a similar experience on the board with Julie as we dropped into a mogul field. Or the time S showed me how to boogie board in 6 foot surf off Big Beach in Maui. Ok, well, that almost killed me but I now have real knowledge of my limits in rough water. An example away from sports might be the time I was once working on a DVD authoring product. Senior management wanted us to add the ability to produce Blu-ray format discs. A couple of slight problems existed though...the Blu-ray spec had yet to be finalized and oh, yeah, there was no hardware, either burners or players, to test with. We managed to do it, though. And on schedule as well. I was skeptical at first but my team proved me wrong.

In all those instances, it was something I NEVER would have attempted had someone not encouraged me. And I'm not referring to situations where you go out with an expert and they goad you into something that's way over your head. It's more that they recognize something that you don't see in yourself or you do see but still are held back by fear.

And then there's mountain biking and my friend, Cathy. I'm not sure how much she realizes how much she's responsible for improving my ability on a bike and getting me to attempt things that really, I would have considered insane two years ago.

"Let's go ride Thursday night in the woods. You'll need lights." I say ok but in my head I think, "Holy crap! I'm going to die! But then I go and realize just how much kick ass fun it is.

"Teri - ride that log/rock!" or "The line is on the left, through the dirt in the crack, then stay right." or my personal favorite, "Momentum is your friend." She's a great, patient instructor and I've really improved riding with her. And I'm still amazed that there's one bridge I can ride that she has a mental block on. ;-)

So this week, she invited me to an epic ride to be followed by an epic feast. Three to four hour ride on the bike. Ok, I think I can probably do that provided we keep the pace sane. But then the forecast calls for temps in the twentys with wind - so it feels like it's about 10 degrees. Now typically, I think I would have wussed. Resorted to the rollers or perhaps even done a cx race. But I was committed, I was going to do it and I promised not to whine.

We met at her house, did the requisite clothing check (How many layers are you wearing? Are you wearing the big or little gloves? Skull cap or balaclava? Light jacket or the winter jacket?) then headed out. I had a complete and total blast. We didn't start really feeling a bit chilled until 2 hours into the ride. About 2.5 hours in as I struggled on what seemed a little hill, I finally announced I was done (but I didn't whine!) and had enough left for the 45 min ride home. Three hours, 26 miles or so, and then a change into dry warm clothes and a well deserved feast of Big Ass Lasagne.

So thanks, Cath, for making me stretch to new limits. And now I have no excuse for not riding outside this winter. There go my warm weekend afternoons on the couch in front of the fire. ;-)

Being a Wuss

It's only November and I've started whining about it being too cold to ride outside, resorting to the rollers in the basement, and even Abusive Spin Class. And this morning, I got what I deserved - Full Kit Dude plunked himself down on the bike in front and offset to my left a bit. He was also in the first row, right in front of the wall of mirrors. So, five minutes in when he fully unzipped his jersey, I had to suffer with the view. Not a pretty sight. I'm ready to ride outside again, thank you very much.

Along those lines, I was also made to feel like a wussy rider by reading this blog. Now, there's an Alaskan woman I can admire.

Sun?!?!?

Now for Camano Island, WA (98282)

46F
46F
Mostly Cloudy
Humidity: 81%
Wind: WNW at 1 mph
Last Updated: 11/15/08 7:25 AM PST

For more weather information, visit www.weather.com from your PC or
mobile device.

Catching Up

What are long flights good for besides writing race reports? I have at least three races to write about but really don't feel up to reliving them. They've all gone pretty much the same: goals have been to ride hard, not get lapped and try not to come in last. I'm setting the bar pretty low these days while racing with the big girls. Sad, but there it is.

Wrentham was fun in the way that cx can be fun. It was hard, my bike was shifting like crap, the start was almost a pile up on the sandy first right turn, but the MRC boys are always a fun crowd. Plus, Frank was in town and she's a total cowbell queen. Someone complimented me on the fact that I could do the log better than some of the guys and true, I did feel smooth coming through that section. Post-race beers, cigars and chocolate milk (how weird is that?) with the Colombian and Frank was thoroughly entertaining. So I had fun, didn't get lapped and didn't come in last.

This past Saturday was the race at Plymouth North. I'm getting a little tired of that course - it just kind of bores me. As I was waiting for one of the earlier races to finish so I could jump on the course for a pre-ride, I saw Mo pull into the parking lot. I thought to myself, there goes my goal of not getting lapped. I was hoping Mo wouldn't be going all out and saving something for the bigger race in NJ the next day.

The race itself was uneventful. I definitely rode stronger than last year and when I heard them announcing the bell lap for Mo, I was much further ahead than I was the previous year when I saw the stars and stripes jersey of the leader catching me. So again, not lapped and not last.

Finally, Sunday's race, also in Plymouth was at Plymouth South. Now, THAT is a course. Loved it. 3 big climbs, 2 smaller ones, some mud, some single track, some sand, some sucky soggy grass. It rocked and it killed me. I purposely hung back a little at the start as I didn't want to mix it up with the fast girls and get in their way on the first twisty section. By the time I hit the dirt path around the soccer field, I was in last place (uh oh, there's goes one of my goals!) but sticking to the wheel in front of me which seemed like a good idea given the huge wind. Right before we went into the woods before the hill behind the bleachers, I was feeling like the pace the woman in front was setting was just a tad too slow. Decided it would be a good idea to get into the woods in front of her, so pushed to get around her, and never saw her again.

To illustrate just how slow I am compared to these girls, the winner's time was about 45 min which was about 9 min per lap. I was averaging a hair under 11 min per lap. ~sigh. In fact, as I came through the end of lap 4, one official gave me the bell and another yelled, "You can finish now if you want and I'll place you!". NFW. If I'm going to suffer, you bet I'm going to do it big time. Give me more, baby! So I headed out for yet another lap which I think was my fastest (go figure) and I actually felt the best. It also helped that I had a bit of adrenaline going since I wanted to make sure they didn't start the mens pro field just as I was heading through the finish line. Wouldn't that have been a huge cluster%$#@. Or more embarrassing, the announcer saying, "Sorry folks, we're going to have to delay the start of the men's race while we wait for one last woman to drag her sorry ass across the line." ~sigh. It was bad enough that when I finished, he said something like, "There's Teri Carilli finishing up the race. She didn't have to do that last lap. In cross there's two ways to finish a race, both are good." I wasn't sure what he meant by that. Despite achieving both goals, not lapped and not last (well, last finisher, two women chose to DNF instead), I felt like I did at Nationals, exhausted, frustrated and ready to cry. Slapped myself upside the helmet, remembered that somehow in all of this, it was still fun and I'm incredibly lucky to be out there doing what I'm doing at all. So it's all good.

An 85 Year Anniversary Worthy of a Champagne Toast

Eighty-five years ago today, my grandmother arrived at Ellis Island. Eighteen years old. She was excited to be joining her sister and brother on these shores, and thrilled to be on an adventure. I never asked her what it felt like to sail into New York's harbor on that November day, if she saw the Statue of Liberty from her ship, what Ellis Island was like, if she was scared or homesick.

Eventually she married my grandfather, a Sicilian who crossed the border from Canada illegally according to family legend. My dad was born 14 years after she arrived here, followed by my aunt a few years later. They lived in what to me felt like a huge house in the Bronx which seemed to be the central meeting place of the entire extended family. Every Sunday, they all gathered there for dinner and catching up on how everyone's week went. My grandmother and her two sisters prepared the meal, my great uncles were charged with bring the pastries for dessert. My cousins and I explored all the spooky corners of the basement, played the William Tell Overture on the Victrola (which now graces my dining room) or played in the garden. To this day, the smell of fresh basil reminds me of that little garden in the Bronx. Odd but true. The day for the adults was spent most around my grandmother's enormous dining room table. As the family grew, there wasn't room for the kids so we ate the kid table. While the adults enjoyed dessert and black coffee, I sat under the giant table, listened to the conversation (80% in Italian, 20% English), and annoyed my aunts and uncles by playing with their shoes. I know that sometimes then I was bored but God, what I'd give to be able to rewind the audio of one of those dinners and hear it as an adult. Or even better yet, have one more of those Sunday dinners with all of them again.

Fast forward many years - my grandfather, my grandmother's sisters and brothers had all passed away. My grandmother was living alone in a small apartment in Scottsdale, still walking to the market every day, totally strong, sharp and self-sufficient (as all Di Bianco women were and are). I was in town for some reason that I can't remember and she asked me to join her for dinner. Just the two of us. Such a far cry from the huge family dinners I remembered from the Bronx. But the food was still just as good (and I can still remember the exact meal she prepared) and she still wouldn't let me help with the meal or do the the dishes. I did ask her then why she made the trip across the Atlantic. I had heard numerous stories about her step-mother which confirmed all the stories I had heard in fairy tales concerning evil step-mothers so I knew that was part of it. The unexpected part was she said that she was madly in love with some boy her father didn't approve of and thought shipping her to her siblings in America would be best. She wondered aloud how her life would have been different had she stayed and I silently thought how would my life be different (or, I suppose, would I even exist?)

My grandmother passed away in 1996 and is buried in Arizona, such a far distance from her native Italy. In her 72 years spent in the US, she never returned to visit. If there is one thing I regret with regard to her, it's that I never traveled back to Italy with her. To have her show me around her town, swim with her off the Maiori coast (even over the point where the fishermen warned her about the octopi living in the rocks which is huge when you know how much stuff in the water freaks me out. I did not inherit a love of swimming in the ocean from her unfortunately) would have been amazing. I know that compared to this girl who moved cross country kicking and screaming, she was certainly the brave one. I so wanted an escape route back home that I made the decision not to sell my Boston home. And while I still think that was a good decision, I wonder how my experience would have been different had I really cut the cord to the east coast. Not that I would have settled in Seattle - way too dreary for me, but still I wonder. And I'm thankful that one 18 year old girl was a true adventurer and sailed into NYC 85 years ago.

CBC Pumpkin Ale Fest!

Pumpkin Ale Fest! We decided to spend Halloween evening at Cambridge Brewing Company's pumpkin ale fest instead of handing out candy. I sincerely hope that doesn't make us Halloween Scrooges but seriously kids, we did good by not contributing to your weight gain and tooth decay. ;-)

Being the old folks that we are, we arrived early to secure a table. SE and PFFC joined us a little later on. CBC had some guest pumpkin ales on tap so we sampled quite a few. I think we all agreed that the original (CBC's own pumpkin ale) was the best.





Around 8pm (it was Ada Clock....don't ask...inside joke), they brought out the giant 138 pound pumpkin that had been filled with beer. As CBC said, the pumpkin was so big, so pressurized, and so full of delicious pumpkin ale it put the integrity of their gial walk-in refrigerator at risk. Two men dressed as Franciscan monks wheeled the enormous orange gourde through the crowd while loud Gregorian chant music played over the sound system and people stood on chairs to see what was happening. A tad bizarre and went on a bit too long. We were all warned that they weren't responsible if the pumpkin exploded and pumpkin guts ruined our clothes so I was happy that they decided to wheel the sucker out into the courtyard for the tapping. But then, I was sadly disappointed when there was no resulting splatter on the pub windows when they finally tapped that thing.

It was a fun night although I had way too much beer and not enough food. Fortunately, I wasn't planning on racing NoHo the next day. When we arrived home, we discovered that the kittens had had their own Halloween fun and apparently were miffed that we hadn't given them treats because we received a trick. One half of a mouse left in the family room, entrails hanging out. Happy Halloween.

True.

After I visit CT, I always feel the need to post something that reflects my political point of view and makes me feel better.

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Racing at Canton

This past weekend was the Canton Cup cross race. Canton is the first place I ever raced cx and perhaps because of that, is one of my favorite courses, despite all the grass. Last year, I had Frank tagging along. This weekend, I convinced both S and PFFC to come down to Canton with me although I couldn't convince them to race. Perhaps I could persuade them if they changed the rules requiring riders to chug a beer at each barrier.

The course starts with a slight uphill road with a right turn onto double-track dirt. Then you pop out onto snaky turns on grassy fields, tiny bit of single-track, a curvy asphalt path through the woods, more grass with a few 180 degree turns, 3/4 of a lap around a running track (with a nice rubber surface). There were three sets of barriers (two seemed super high) and one short run-ups. The day itself was chilly, around 45 or so, I think. Cloudy and somewhat windy in spots on the course.

Since the start is similar to Gloucester, I went with Cris' suggestion of starting in the big ring and that worked well. I had a decent start (after watching the mens cat 4 carnage 10 sec into their start) and headed into the first twisty, grass turns pretty fast. So fast that I had to brake pretty hard to avoid a slower rider negotiating a turn which caused someone to buzz my tire and go down. (Sorry about that, fallen rider!). I fell off the leaders around the first barriers and as we hit the curvy asphalt path, Michele from ECV prodded me to pick it up and go catch them. Picked up the pace and pulled Michele with me. Loved the feeling of zipping down that curvy path, taking the turns relatively fast and remembering watching women wipe out on those turns last year. Thankfully, no wet leaves this year which made it easier to push the pace. Anyway, we almost had caught up to the leaders until we hit that little uphill dirt off the path where the rider in front of us jumped off and forced us off our bikes. Michele then made a move near the second set of barriers and was gone. I couldn't catch her the rest of the race. With her gone, I focused on trying to catch Giulia (IBC) and a Cambridge Bicycle rider for the remaining three laps. By the third lap, I was starting to pass some of the cat 4 men. On the last lap, I finally caught Giulia by the first barriers. The three of us kept changing position. By the time we hit the asphalt path, I was behind the Cambridge rider and letting her do the work. By the turn before the last set of barriers, I was behind both Giulia and the Cambridge rider, they slowed for the turn around the tree, I punched it to get in front. Was over the barriers first but lost them after the barriers. On the uphill sprint to the finish, I managed to catch and beat the Cambridge rider but couldn't catch Giulia. Totally fun race. Nice to be racing instead of merely surviving. :) Came in 14th of 38 starters.

Finished up with some pumpkin ales (yum) while we watch Jorge's race and people-watched the other riders. Never got to the see the results (which resulted in the fiasco described in the previous post.) Thankfully, after exchanging emails with the race director, it looks like the results will be corrected and reposted. Whew. I feel better now. :)

'Cross Results Suck. Big Time.

Just how many ways can they get it wrong? Even a highly regarded race like Gloucester or the National Championships can't seem to do it right. Lapped riders being recorded higher than those who lapped them, some riders just missing in the results, and now my own personal favorite, two people assigned to the same number (see #602 in the results below). I will write a better race report about Canton once I chill a bit but damn, how disappointing is it to actually ride one of our best races of the season, out sprint someone at the line and then to look at the results and be listed as a DNF. I'm so f*&^%$#ing pissed. (And yes, I probably should have stayed until results were posted. I did check about 45 min after the race and didn't see them, was freezing my bruised butt off and decided I'd rather go home.) It's a good thing I love racing 'cx so much because otherwise I'd be taking my weekly $25 entrance fee and going to do a running race where I get accurate results (including split times), lots of post race goodies and a technical fabric long sleeve shirt. I know the officials are doing the best they can with a really difficult task but it's now the norm that the results are wrong. Someone REALLY needs to figure out how to get accurate results done for cx races.

Ow...My Ass!

Just call me hematoma girl. ;-) This is what happens when you do this. Damn that snow fence post!

Run-Up From Hell

Even though they're hard and I don't feel like I'm particularly good at them, I like run-ups. Kind of mixes things up. Here's the Elite Women doing the Gloucester run-up this past weekend. I'm trying to imagine what that would have been like in the rain. Even more fun, I suppose, if the officials would have allowed it. :)

Racing Until My Legs Fall Off

Since a few important meetings for Columbus Day were canceled, I opted to take the day as PTO and turn the New England Worlds weekend into a long one. And that meant one extra day to race.

It used to be that as the leaves started to turn here in Boston, I began to get more excited as my goal races came up on the horizon. At the time, those races were the Bench & Run (love that one!), Tufts 10k, BAA Half Marathon, Applefest, Baystate Marathon, NYC Marathon, Feaster Five, or Manchester on Thanksgiving. The list changed every year depending on whether I had aspirations of qualifying for Boston, trying to get a new half marathon PR or simply trying to work off all the apple pies I eat in the fall.

The list of races is so different these days: Gloucester, Canton Cup, Northampton, Wrentham, Sterling. And I find myself so torn. I honestly miss running. But I love 'cross. ~sigh. And if this weekend is any indication, it's freaking hard to do both. (Unless you're Libby. Ah, to be 14 again. :) )But dammit - it was a three day weekend, and I was going to race all three days.

Gloucester Day 1
First up, was the New England Worlds (a.k.a. Gloucester GP). Stealing from Cathy's beautiful summary on the NEBC site, the course was as follows:

The course layout was the same as last year’s Gloucester races. Uphill pavement start onto a slightly downhill dirt section with some tight turns, onto the seawall where we picked up speed, up a rocky incline to a grassy section leading into the first small uphill of the course. From there, we continued in the grass into the barrier chicanes, and into a wicked fast downhill grass section, past the pit, and onto the second (and windy) seawall. A hard push sent us into some tight, twisty turns on the grass before dumping racers into the playground sand section, complete with a hairpin turn! Sprinting out of the sand brought everyone to the up/down twists of the final chicanes, before heading back onto the road.

Sunday’s weather was a repeat of Saturday – clear, sunny skies and warm temps.

Kudos to the course staff for the changes they made between Saturday’s races and Sunday. While the start of the race was the same, Sunday brought a huge, loose run-up off of the seawall from a 90 degree right hand turn! That run up hurt every time. From here, we rode past the upper playground, around a very loose (sandy, rocky) right hand turn, back onto the grass and into an off camber approach to the barriers. This new approach was rutted and bumpy, and required some good cornering skills. The seond half of the course, with a few changes to the grass chicane section and a different approach to the sand, remained pretty much the same as Saturday.

I had volunteered to work registration for Saturday so I arrived pretty early - so early, in fact, that I was lucky enough to witness a gorgeous sunrise. Working registration was fun - actually got to put some faces to some names in the mens fields which was great. Took off at 10am to my race prep and warm up.

Goals for the race: ride smoothly, save enough for the a good last lap and try to finish in the top 50% of riders. The race went pretty much according to plan. I had a third row start and passed quite a few riders up the hill before we hit the dirt. (Thanks to Cris for reminding me to start in the big ring. Felt like I had a rocket pushing me past many of the riders.) The sand pit was the low point in my race. In retrospect, I should have simply gotten off and ran but it just LOOKED so rideable. And it probably was if I had been TT-ing it out there. Whole different story with others in front of you. On the third lap, as I was running with the bike shouldered, I was passed by one of the juniors whose bike got tangled with mine. Took us a bit to get our bikes untangled. On the fourth (last lap), I was feeling like I had enough left to make a serious effort at passing a group of three riders in front of me. Unfortunately, I biffed it big time in the sand pit and lost enough time that I couldn't catch them. Geoff Martin even got a great shot of me sitting on my butt in the sand with the bike on top of me. ~sigh Still managed to have a great time.

Gloucester Day 2
Saturday night we had a small dinner party - not the best pre-race dinner especially considering the number of glasses of wine I consumed. But at least I didn't need to be up there at the crack of dawn Sunday morning. Walked the course with Janet and Kathy to check out the addition of the run-up and the other resulting course changes. Nice to have someone to talk over the course with and bounce ideas off of.

Goals for race: place higher than the day before, deal with the sand pit better, smile on the run-up. :) Not sure if it was the fact that I had to host a dinner party Saturday night, ate too much, drank way too much wine, etc., etc, or the run-up from hell but Sunday's race felt a WHOLE lot harder. Again, had a third row start and got stuck behind a rider who couldn't clip in. Grrr..... Next, on the first little uphill grass section, I saw Libby and another rider down. (I heard later that the other rider had pretty much intentionally taken her out. So NOT cool.) Had to carefully maneuver around them. I tried to just settle in for the next few laps and sit on a wheel on the long, straight grassy sections, the road, etc. On the fourth lap, I decided that I really wanted to be ahead of the woman in front of me and made the whole goal of the lap to finish ahead of her. Went into the run-up together but I beat her to the top which give me a little bit of a spurt. Tried accelerating more coming out of each turn and transition in order to put a little more distance between us. Ended up finishing ahead of her by 15 sec or so.

All in all, I was pretty happy with the results. Next year, I need to finally reach my goal for being in the top 50% of the riders. Was almost there but not quite. The weather was spectacular, the cheering fans even more so. And I thoroughly enjoyed hanging out in the beer garden following Sunday's race.

Tufts 10k
Having not run a 10k in recent memory (a year? more?), I had no goals for this race other than to simply have fun. S had to attend the AAP conference which was being held in Boston this year and so had a room at the Copley Marriott. Playing tourist, I stayed there Sunday night, got up early and jogged over to the Common to number pickup. Loved being on the streets of Boston in the early morning. I sometimes forget just how beautiful this city is. Without the crowds and traffic and with the gorgeous weather, it was super relaxing to be out running down the middle of Comm Ave, across the Public Garden, etc.

Lined up for the start with 7,000 other women on Beacon St. Having done this race more times than I can remember, the course is burned into memory. Down the Beacon St. hill, right onto Charles St, up over the Longfellow Bridge, down onto Memorial Drive, past MIT up to the BU Bridge, back down Mem Drive past the Mass Ave bridge a ways, then another U-turn back to the Mass Ave bridge, down Mass Ave to a left on Comm Ave, right on Arlington, left on Boylston, then left to the finish line between the Public Garden and the Common.

I vowed before the start that I wouldn't look at my splits. After all, I knew Joannie would beat me again so what was the point? ;-) At the gun, we surged down Beacon St and then got all clumped up at the turn onto Charles. It wasn't until we headed under the Longfellow Bridge on Mem Drive about a mile into the race that I wasn't zigzagging my way through crowds and could run freely. As we were cruising up Mem Drive we saw the the leaders coming back at us on the other side (one of my favorite parts of doing this course) and I still marvel at how fast and effortless they look. Simply amazing.

As we turned onto the Mass Ave bridge, I felt a bit of a headwind and memories of running that bridge in all kinds of weather came flooding back. Training for Boston one January, we had winds on that bridge that were killer. Times like that it helps to have training partners and mine at the time was "B.A.A. Phil". A clydesdale runner, an in-shape, 6'6" 250lb guy that was great to tuck in behind in winds like that. He was my wind shield for 18 miles around the river that day.

The left turn onto Comm Ave always reminds me of the marathon course. One year, I met S on Heartbreak Hill to pace her the last 7 miles to the finish line. As we left Kenmore Square behind and crossed Mass Ave, I could tell she was ready to be done. I picked up the chatter, "Ok, we just crossed Mass Ave! Just have to go one block for the right onto Hereford! Come on! Almost there!" and then I panicked, thinking to myself, "the next right is Hereford, right? Crap! Hope I didn't just tell her the wrong thing!" The last thing you want to tell a marathon runner in the last mile is incorrect course stuff. But yeah, I was right. We turned onto Hereford, then I left her for the turn onto Boylston. No way I was running down that stretch - that's reserved for people who've earned the whole thing. Even the last turn in Central Park for the NYC Marathon can't compare to making that turn down Boylston. It is simultaneously the hugest rush and greatest relief.

As I nodded to the Hereford St. sign and continued down Comm Ave, I hit the mile to go marker for my race and started counting the blocks. It helps that the streets are alphabetical in the Back Bay, Gloucester, Fairfield, Exeter, Dartmouth, Clarendon.... As I turned down Charles St., I reminded myself that the finish line was still a quarter mile away and tried not to sprint it in too early. And there, waiting, since she beat me again by a good 15 min, was Joan Benoit. You start to understand just how old you are when you realize that all the young women in the race have no idea who that woman standing there congratulating runners is and you're heading over to shake her hand and perhaps get a picture with her.

And apparently, I was so swift crossing the finish line that S didn't see me. So no pic with Joanie. But we did have an awesome lunch on Charles St after the race. Felt great to have all three races of the weekend completed. I think I'm going to make it an annual event.

A Mojo For the Tsunami

Bumble, the Abomidable Snowman from Rudolph, has always been one of my favorite characters and in fact, I have a finger puppet that I consider my lucky charm. I always thought I'd like to tape him to my handlebars but he'd never survive the mud, yuck and nastiness that would end up coating him. And then, I happened to come across a hard, plastic version at Urban Outfitters this weekend. Happiness! Hopefully, there will be lots of riders behind me staring at him and wondering, "WTF?"

Good-Bye Fat A$$, Hello Subaru!

One of the great perks of S's job is the free car: free gas, free insurance, free monthly detailing. The first car we were given was a Chrysler Pacifica (a.k.a. The Fat A$$). We both hated that car. Despite being AWD, it sucked in the snow, was too huge, and had no pickup. About the only thing I could say about it (other than it was free - don't look a gift horse in the mouth) was it was fairly comfortable on a long drive. And, since we didn't really care that much about it, we simply put our bikes inside the car.

We finally drove the Fat A$$ off into the sunset a couple of weeks ago. It's been replaced by a Subara Tribeca. Personally, I'd prefer the Legacy Outback station wagon (had one of those a few years back and it truly rocked). I spent this past weekend putting a new Thule rack on the new Subaru. S "stickered" the car (but right now it has more surfing stickers rather than cycling). It also made it to its first 'cross race. After driving it about 500 miles now, I can say I do like it much better than the Fat A$$. Handles way better, better acceleration and the butt warmers get extremely toasty. Guess we'll find out in a few months how it handles the snowy roads.

Peeing My Pants

I have absolutely no idea why but I saw the following skit on SNL and it just kills me. Given the current state of affairs in the world, it feels really good to laugh - even if it means I pee my pants. ;-)

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

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Wow. Every time I watch a little more of Palin, I throw up a little more in my mouth.