A Bunch of Firsts

Early last week, one of my teammates brought a mountain bike race, The Root 66 Series Fat Tire Classic, to my attention. I had mentioned to my team earlier that I wanted to do more racing on trails than roads this year. She remembered my comment and given that this race was supposed to be a good one for newbies, I decided to go.

My race was at 9am and about a 1.5 hr drive from home so I was on the road pretty early. Nice to have the Pike to myself and other like minded individuals - saw a lot of road bikes headed to the Palmer race, a few mountain bikes, and a bunch of white water kayaks (wonder what kayak event was going on...). The sun broke out by the time I hit I-84 with lots of fog hanging out low in valleys of CT hill country.

Usually when I arrive at a bike race (road race/crit but not cross) I feel sick to my stomach, a little shakey, a lot nervous. I pulled into the parking lot and despite it being my first mtb race ever, I felt fine - lots of exciting energy but no feeling of needing to puke in the parking lot (that would come later.) My goals for the race were 1) not get hurt 2) be a sponge and learn as much as possible from where does my number go (on my bike not me), what's a mtb race start like (just like cross) to what does a mtb course look like (probably not very much like we rode today). I started my sponge-like behavior as soon as I parked the car. Two friendly guys were parked next to me so I started picking their brain - had they done the course before? Did it rain much last night down there? How often to you check the pressure on your shocks? All this mtb mechanical stuff is so new to me.

I headed over to registration to pick up my number. Apparently, they gave my number to someone else(!!) I wasn't happy. Didn't want some random to be riding as me. To try to make me feel better, they gave me a "good" number, 1000, which I suppose has a nice, cosmic ring to it but when the dudes in the parking lot saw it they commented, "Wow! You must really be old!" Nice. Gotta love it. I'm going to rip your &^%$$ legs off.

Tried to figure out how to put the number on the bike. I'm more accustomed to struggling to pin the damn thing on my jersey so this was a lot easier. Throw that in the plus column for mtb races. I still had about 40 min before my race so I decided I'd ride as much as the course as possible to get a preview. Slight uphill start from a wide field to a fire road. Then, down a fairly steep hill with a bunch of roots at the top and hard left turn on the bottom. I thought this might be the first place the pack would break up. Next, was the first section of single track, twisting and turning around trees and coming up to "THE LOG". I rode up to it. Uh. Wondered if I could ride it. Decided, no time like the present to practice so backed up, headed toward THE LOG and....stopped right before it. Why break a collarbone in practice? Just then I saw a group of two guys ride up. Decided I'd just watch and sure enough then just popped the front wheel up and rode right over. I hung out and watched a bunch of others and they did the same thing. Next, two girls rode up and did exactly as I did. We were all a bunch of wussy girls. ;-) In retrospect, it didn't matter in the race but it's clear I need to build my mtb skills. All told, the course was two laps of a 5 mile course. A lot of fire roads with 4-5 twisty, single track sections mixed in, a few short hills, a couple of logs to ride over and nothing seriously technical.

Back at the start, I gathered with a bunch of other beginner riders. They sent the guys off first, different age groups divided by a minute. The women, about 20 of us, would all start together. When the whistle went off, I was psyched instead of nervous. The strategy would be to go for the hole shot but I tried to remind myself I was there to learn and I wasn't going to learn anything at the front (probably not the brightest idea). I was probably 6 or so riders back as we left the fire road for the first big downhill. Heart's pounding, legs pumping and all I hear is lots of shifting and none of that squealing, braking noise that I typically hear in cross races thanks to disc brakes. That led into the first section of single track where a rider went down in front of me on a wet root. Crap. Crap. Crap. No room to get around her. Losing time on the leaders...CRAP! Same rider went down on THE LOG. After finally getting around her at that log, picked up the pace and tried to catch the leaders. Never managed to catch them but did pick off three or so women and A LOT (about 10? Lost count) men in the 50+ group that started a minute before us.

I put my head down and rode like I meant it. My HR was pegged above 90% the whole time. I rode every single hill, passing the walking dudes, nailed all the tight twisty turns, accelerated out of each one of them and basically just loved the whole damn thing. Rocket still doesn't have a computer on it so I had no idea of the distance on my first lap but knew that last year's finishers had a time around 1 hour 10 min. Imagine my surprise around 25 min when I saw I was rolling around back to the start! SWEET! Faster than I expected! And now that I knew the entire course, felt like I could push it even more. 3/4 of the way through the second lap, my legs were really burning and I started the "Wheezing Breathing" that I usually only hear during cross season. And then, a small taste of - how to put this delicately - vomit. Please, please, please, DO NOT MAKE ME STOP TO PUKE!!!!! Pushed the thought aside, replaced it with "DO NOT LET ANYONE CATCH YOU! 60 MORE SECONDS! JET!"

Done. Finished. First mountain bike race complete. Check it off the list. I loved it. That was fun. Gotta do it again. Back to the car to change and decided to checked the results before leaving. I was shocked to find myself 2nd. Nice thing about mtb races - they do age group awards! Got a silver medal and some bike tools. :)


The List of Firsts:

1. First mountain bike race
2. Rocket's first race
3. First time on the podium for cycling (2nd place, baby!)
4. First time I received a medal for cycling (silver)
5. First time I received prizes for cycling (bike tools)
   

A Long Time Ago On A Field Far, Far, Away

A couple of months ago, I received a flyer in the mail asking me to come back to Brown for 2007 Softball Alumnae Day. I probably get one of those every year along with invitations to golf outings, football tailgates, Homecoming, etc. The small print on this one caught my eye and shocked my brain.

If your eyes are getting old like mine and you're having trouble with the fine print, it says, "Come back to College Hill and celebrate the 25th anniversary of Brown Softball's first Ivy Championship" OMG! 25 YEARS! How is that possible?!?!? I did some quick math...how old am i now....less 25....geez! I was 19! Was I ever really 19?

Funny how something that happened 25 years ago can seem like yesterday. The tournament that year was on the fields outside Hahvahd Stadium (a few miles from where I sit right now. Never would have expected that 25 years ago!) That season, I learned how to contribute to a team without setting foot on the field - I had ripped my knee apart in a preseason game against URI and spent the season in a cast from my toes to my upper thigh.

Before that fateful pre-season game, we spent the night at one of my teammate's family vacation home on Narragansett Bay. I don't remember exactly how many beers I had that evening but I know that if I drank that many now, it would most likely kill me. Worse yet, on our way back to school and the game, we stopped at McDonalds. They were running a promotion where you got a scratch ticket so along with my burger, fries and coke, I won yet another batch of artery-clogging fries. Got another scratch ticket with those fries and won more food and so on and so on and so on. So, weighted like a tank out there at 2nd base, definitely not too quick on my feet I couldn't dodge the high slide that took me and my leg to the hospital. Most embarrassing part - admitting to the anesthesiologist how much I had eaten in the past 12 hours. 14 beers....1 quarter pounder....2 burgers....4 fries....kill me now.... The surgeon actually questioned whether or not he should operate. But I digress.

I was on crutches the entire season and wasn't quite sure what to do with myself . Studying more would have been the most beneficial choice but yeah, well, why study when I could go hang out with my my buddies. And so I did. Even though at first it killed me to be at practice, I went. I really couldn't even be helpful and chase down stray balls. I think toward the end I was able to hit grounders to my fellow infielders but really, I just hung out out on the bench, felt sorry for myself, and felt like a poser.

A baby-faced freshman took my position at second. And damn, if that wasn't the most amazing thing to watch. Michelle (a.k.a Dr. Dodge) was a slightly shy, kind of quiet braniac who was in Brown's accelerated med school program. We teased her mercilessly (still do, actually). And she kept coming back for more. And then at the Ivy Tournament - she actually made us shut up (not an easy thing to do with our group). Her stats:

• 2 Hits 3 RBIS against Hahvahd
• RBI insurance run against our dreaded nemesis, Princeton
• 2 for 3 and 4 RBIs against Yale
• 4 RBIs (with a 3 run double) against Dartmouth
• 3 hits against Cornell

The girl rocked! Solid on D as well. Smokin!


But best of all, throughout that entire season, when we were up at bat, she sat by my side on the bench, talked about what was going on out on the field and almost made me feel like it was my cleats that were getting dirty out there, not hers. I owe her big time for that. I didn't realize it until today. And wished I would have thought to thank her at the reunion.

It was absolutely a blast seeing everyone today. Those who didn't make it were missed and couldn't defend themselves as we told embarrassing stories. Amazing how little we've all changed, and all fell back into old jokes and roles. Celebrating that season made me remember that we were a pretty special group and I'm really glad I got to be a part of it - even if it was from the bench that one season.

Keeping It Fun

I came across this video (kudos to these guys for having some fun out there) yesterday while doing some research for work (honest! I was!) It instantly reminded me of about 35 years ago when I would take my Schwinn Sting-Ray into the woods behind our house in CT with the other kids in my neighborhood. Now, I know they say mountain biking originated in Marin but heck, we didn't need no stinkin' fancy rides - we had our Huffy's and department store specials. My Sting-Ray was probably the nicest bike on the block.

Anyway, it became a Neighborhood Badge of Honor to be able to ride the trail from the "Big Kids" tree house on the top of the hill, down the hill, through the swampy fern section and over the last fallen tree at the end by the "Little Kids" (us) fort without touching down. Getting over the tree didn't scare me as much as going down the hill - a lot of speed was necessary to get through the swampy fern section without tipping over and suffering the "Wrath of Mom" for returning home covered in and reeking of swamp muck.

I think I spent an entire month one summer just doing that trail over and over and over and over.... I never got bored but how could I? One day Jimmy H. took a nasty fall, knocked out his tooth and blood was everywhere. Bobby B. ended up falling in leaves, getting a tick on the top of his head and needing to get part of his head shaved to have it removed. In retrospect, they probably should have given him a total buzz cut but instead he had a bald spot right smack in the middle. Much ridicule ensued until it grew back. Once we all successfully mastered the trail, we started hauling more obstacles out there, large branches, pieces of plywood, and flattened metal garbage cans which added sound effects to our ride. Bike heaven!

So I was remembering all that this morning as I headed out on my bike. The workout of the day was meticulously written out in block print and taped to my stem next to my HRM:

10 EASY (61-72%)
10 LIGHT (73-80%)
SMALL RING SPRINT
53 x 15 SPRINT
2 FREE FORM SPRINTS
5 x 1 min @100
62 min total

Now, while that may be fun for some, it isn't particularly for me. And while it was a great workout and I'm glad I did it, it didn't have me doing a happy dance when it was finished. I definitely need to figure out how to mix more fun in there and keep reminding myself that those kind of workouts may not make for a fun morning but will certainly make races more FUN as I RIP legs off the other racers. ;-)

That Was Fun! Let's Do It Again!

Friday morning was a gorgeous, sunny but chilly morning and I was scheduled to do a ride with the boys from work. Normally, this doesn't worry me but given it was the day before a race, hammering with them would not be a "good thing". So I stated my case as soon as we were all gathered, "Need to be back by 9am. Need to keep it easy." And they actually obliged! (Since they were being so accommodating, I should have probably asked them to keep the snot rockets to a minimum. Next time.) It ended up being a great ride. I pretty much hung on the back, loosened up my legs, took a few pulls and the Columbian forced me to sprint one of the hills (standing - I was reprimanded when I attempted to sit 7/8ths of the way up!). Perfect way to start a Friday and a nice 22 mile warm up for Turtle Pond.

Race morning was even nicer than Friday. My race was scheduled for 1:30pm with temps forecasted in upper 60's. OMG! We're talking shorts, short sleeves and NO F*&^% BOOTIES! I even had to put on sunscreen. It's finally spring here in the northeast, folks!

The course was an 11.4 mile loop that my division would do three times. As the elevation chart shows it was pretty rolling with one major hill (1.5 km long). All day Friday and Friday night, I was a total headcase. Would I get dropped right at the gun? Would I suffer alone for 35 miles? Would I finish? The latter was all I really had control over so that became my overall goal: 1) Don't Get Hurt 2) Finish 3) Stretch Goal: stay with main pack for 1 lap.

We had 5 members of my team in the race - we're all at different levels in our training right now so it didn't really make sense to put together a team strategy. We all lined up at the start, wished eachother good luck and then the gun went off.Somehow, I found myself leading the pack out(!!!!) How did this happen?!? S told me I should stay toward the front (BUT NOT AT THE FRONT) and try my best not to get dropped on that first hill - that was the key - even if it meant coughing up a lung. There was a small downhill before the killer hill started. I pedaled easy, tried not to panic, watched to see if anyone would pick up the pace. Nooooo...no one did. As we hit the hill, I shifted to the little ring and &^%$#@$%^ dropped the stupid chain!!!! How is this possible? Now, that's not the end of the world but it was enough distraction that it totally threw me off my plan and pace. I did manage to pedal it back on but in the interim, I was swallowed up by the pack like the borg and then spit out toward the back. Yuk.

As we reached the top of the hill, I watched the main pack put the hammer down and accelerate off. I found myself in the chase pack of about 12 riders and here's where it got entertaining. There were 3-4 riders up front taking pulls. After each pull, the rider would drop back into the paceline 3-4 riders back instead of heading further back. I sure as hell wasn't going to work my way past all the other riders between me and them so I just hung back. After 5-6 miles of this, those riders were starting to get a little annoyed and there were some words being thrown around about being not taking a pull. I sat back, enjoyed the show, appreciated the distraction, and zipped along effortlessly at 26 mph. :-) Finally, those up front got the hint, dropped a little further back and others stepped up to take their turn leading the group.

Finally, it got to be my turn. I still have this nasty habit of having an adrenline kick when I'm leading the paceline. I'm in the front and thinking, "I gotta ride well! I don't want them to think I'm lame! I don't want the pack to swallow me up!" I put my head down and ride. Periodically, I check over my shoulder and see a rider behind me. I pull for 5 minutes, then slightly tired, I motion for the woman behind me to take her turn and I move over to the left. I check behind to see how many riders I have to wait for before I get back in the line and ....there's NO ONE THERE! OMG! What did I do? I tell the woman in front of me that somehow (gee, I wonder how) we manage to drop the rest of the pack. Uh oh.

We continue on and one rider catches us. For the rest of the race, that's how it stayed. The three of us taking 5 min pulls and resting for 10. As the three of us headed up Oak Hill for the second lap, it dawned on us all that even though there were three laps, we'd be doing Oak Hill FOUR times. The course started before the hill and the finish was at the top. It was interesting to see all three of us come to that same realization almost simultaneously as we tried our best to conquer gravity. (S and PFFC who came to cheer said they didn't even like walking that hill let alone ride it)

The two women I rode with totally rocked! We worked well together and we all finished the race strong. Still haven't seen the official results but I judge we were about midway in the field. Super cool!

Winner - Best Story Told At Race: For some strange reason, there was a port-o-john set up almost precisely at the finish line. A little girl goes into use it, her dad standing outside, just as one of the packs was coming to the finish. "Dad! Dad! Can you hold open the door while I go so I can watch the riders cross the line?!?!?! Please!?!?!?" (Dad said no.) Totally cracked me up.

Attitude

This morning during Abusive Spin Class (yes, it was still raining this morning) I was thinking about this upcoming cycling season and realized that while I'm making progress physically, my head is SO not in the game. An email circulating among my teammates kicked it off two days ago, "Who's racing Turtle Pond this weekend?!?!?" they asked. Ooooh...heart rate starts to pick up, breathing gets shallow, and the following dialog goes on in my head:

"Oh, geeze, I'm so not ready to race.
But I could do it as good training ride.
Yeah, but then I'll get spit out the back and ride 35 miles solo. Ick.
But there are masters points up for grabs! How many 45 year olds will be out there?
Just do it.
Wah!"

Another example: S was racing the state road racing championship years ago. Before the start of the race, Pro-Joe-Rider-Girl rolls up along side her at the start and says, You're going to lose! You didn't do the White Mountain Series.

S stared her down, didn't say anything but thought, "I will DIE before I let you cross the finish before me."

And sure enough, she took first place about a quarter of wheel ahead of Pro-Joe-Rider-Girl.

Now, putting myself in that scenario, had someone said that to me at the start, I would have been thinking:

"What's the White Mountain Series?
Is it tougher than the hills I've been riding in NH?
VT is prettier - I should have raced there instead of NH.
Damn! I should have done the NH series AND the White Mountain Series!
Wait! The White Mountains are in NH! Did she mean the Green Mountains!
I'm so confused...."

And while all the conversation is going on in my head, the starter's gun would have gone off and I'd be left at the start still trying to clip in while the pack is finishing the first turn.

Now, the inexplicable part is that I'm not like that in any other sport. Moments before a running race, I think, "I will pound you into the ground! You will be toast if you try to keep pace with me! I WANT that damn prize (pair of random running socks) for a top three finish." When I played basketball, despite being the shortest out there, I'd look at the 6 foot center and think, "I will juke you out of those ugly ass size 13 shoes and have a clear drive to the hoop!" More times than not, I did. And sure, sometimes the ball got REJECTED back into my face but I'd keep coming at them. As a catcher on the diamond, I'd glower at any base runner and send mental vibes saying, "You steal on me, you will die on the base path! Make my day! Go!"

I need cycling swagger. I need attitude. I need to believe. So I've been working on a short, focused line I can keep rolling around in my head that will keep all that stupid, random, distracting chatter out . I've settled on,

"I will RIP your legs off!"

I'll let you know if it works at Turtle Pond.

Ode to My Sandwich

Haiku of The Day
Golden whole wheat bread
P. B. and jelly oozing
I love my sandwhich

PBJs are a staple of my diet - I eat 1/2 for lunch almost every day. I eat them before races, during rides, sometimes just because... I believe I also set the record during one PMC for PBJs consumed during a 48 hour period (about 16). And oddly enough, I never ate a PBJ until I was 38 years old. I know....slow starter.

Others have discovered my addiction to these delicious little wonders. TCB once gave me a PBJ magnet (proudly in use in my office). S gave me a Life Is Good PBJ t-shirt (should have worn it today). And just recently, S passed along a song that totally cracks me up and makes my day. Follow the link from the cartoon below to check it out!

I'm Annoyed

I really want to wear my new Shoes of Summer. I really, really, really do. I even have the pedicure to match. And despite the fact that it's f*&^%$ almost May, our weather looks like this:


This is making it incredibly difficult to stick with THE PLAN. Tomorrow I'll either go ride in the snow or take out my frustration on the new spin bikes at BSC. Speaking of BSC, one of the things I love about working out there is all the windows and light. One end of the gym is three stories of all glass. As I walked over to that side of the gym, I happened to look outside and there's a major snow squall happening. Tons of tiny flakes, blowing every which way and heaven help me, actually coating the ground. "Nooooooooooooooo!" I didn't realize I actually said that out loud until the guy doing crunches near me stopped, shook his head and muttered, "Just don't look. It's easier that way."

Sea Otter Classic

The Short Version: two new jerseys, two baseball caps, one pair of fun sunglasses, one t-shirt, one hot pair of mtb shorts, one super cute sweatshirt, two massive bruises, one duffle bag of very dirty, wet cycling clothing, one skinned knee, one pair of lost tights, one extremely fun weekend.




The Long Version:
One of the great perks of my job is the fact that I get to escape Boston every 5-6 weeks. The forecast for Boston was looking pretty gloomy - high 30s, drizzle, rain. But I didn’t care - I was headed west for the week. Mostly for work but with a side trip to Monterey for the Sea Otter. Monday’s weather in Boston was nice enough for a 25 mile ride including sprints despite a wind gusting to 30mph. Caught the JetBlue nonstop to SJ and stepped off the plane into a CA sunset that was as warm as it was pretty.

I tried to time my training so that the trip coincided with a recovery week. I still felt a bit nuts not being able to ride. I did manage one spin class with the TCB along with a totally awful run on the treadmill. For some reason, I had an incredibly difficult time adjusting to west coast time and even my weight workouts lacked energy.

Friday morning, I jumped in my rented Chevy Trailblazer and headed south on 101 to Monterey airport where I picked up S. From there we headed into Monterey to pick up our rental bikes (full suspension Diamondbacks from Joselyn's Bicycles - decent stuff. Check them out if you ever want to ride in the area and don’t want to deal with shipping/flying your bike.) < rant > I used to fly my bike or ship it to CA at least a couple of times a year and was planning on doing so for this trip until I discovered how much prices had gone up. In June of ’05 it cost around $100 each way to ship my bike Fedex 3-day air coast to coast with insurance. The quote for this trip was $260 each way. That was more than the flight to transport me! Gas prices suck. I didn’t even check on the cost for checking the bike on JetBlue - it used to be $75. But dealing with a bike as checked luggage is a total PITA in this security paranoid time. I still don’t understand why skis/snowboards/golf bags all fly free and bikes don’t. When my bike is packed in its hardcase, it’s way smaller than my dead-body snowboard bag that carries two boards, two pairs of boots and enough clothing and gear to outfit the entire Olympic winter team < /rant >

So, a full suspension mountain bike cost me $100 for the day. Obviously not cost effective if you’re using it for a week but good enough for what I wanted - one day of trails at Sea Otter.

After picking up the bikes we headed up to Laguna Seca. As we reached the entrance I think both of our jaws just dropped. The entire area inside the race track was full of booths from every vendor related in any possible way to cycling.
Bikes, components, clothing, beer... My mind now filled with ideas of how to fit all the schwag I was going to pick up in my suitcase on the way back. Tons of people on bikes, campers, RVs, and a hillside that reminded me a little bit of the Sound of Music where Julie Andrew’s is spinning around singing. Except this hillside was covered with cars with bike racks. This was going to be fun!

It seemed that we had arrived as the day was in full swing so our assigned parking was a fair distance away from the expo. We threw on our cycling shoes, helmets, backpacks - grabbed the rental bikes and rode into the party. The first booth that caught our attention was Vanderkitten. And of course, we just had to buy a couple of totally cute jerseys. We checked out booth after booth until our eyes were starting to glaze over. I never thought it would be possible but apparently even I have a some sort of threshold for bicycling related things. The fact that we had skipped lunch in our excitement to get there probably didn’t help either.

The next day, we met TCB and ETM at the Starbucks on Highway 218 before heading out to Sea Otter. The forecast was for 55-60, cloudy skies and a 60% chance of showers. Given my experience with CA and rain, I figured if it did anything, it would spit on us for 5 minutes - long enough to treat us to a killer rainbow after it blew through. The start for our ride wasn’t the best organized. First, there was the conflicting times - did it start at 9 or 9:30am? Then no one seemed to really know just where the start was. After scurrying around a bit we finally figured it out and headed off. Things didn’t kick off well. S’s bike was shifting on its own, she was getting frustrated and was threatening to bail 1/2 mile in. I managed to adjust the derailleur a bit, the sun started peeking through and things started looking up (including the trail).


The trails in CA are SO different from the east coast. No loose boulders, no evil tree roots. For the most part, the biggest obstacles were the gullies in the trails along with some serious sand. I thoroughly enjoyed the downhill single track in the first half. A total blast. Even the downhill in the sandy trails was fun. Riding cross all fall definitely paid off. I did manage two falls. Neither nasty but ended up with two huge bruises. One of which is making my flight home a tad uncomfortable.


About 7 miles into the ride, it started spitting on us. And given we were in the middle of a long climb, it actually felt good. Then it started raining harder. And harder. And harder. About that time, we reached the top of the climb and were riding on top of an exposed ridge. Rain blowing sideways, winds around 30 mph and it was hitting my face so hard I could have sworn it was hail. Still not sure about that. Took shelter under some little tree to put on my helmet beanie (such a prepared east coaster!), jacket and leg warmers on. I felt warmer but still not super comfortable. Each pedal stroke squished a flood of water out of my shoe. The bike was getting blown sideways and forward motion was triplely hard due to the headwind, the climb and now muddy trails. When I asked TCB if she was ok, she surprisingly said, “No.” Her quads were shaking (note to self: remind her to eat more). ETM was trying to be a tough guy but even he was swearing like a sailor with each huge gust of wind driven rain. We weren’t quite sure how much further we had to go. The volunteers didn’t know either. And now, pick-up trucks were out on the trail sagging riders. Every time we’d get to the top of a hill hoping to see the race track and expo, we were presented with yet another hill. Finally, the trailed turned down, came around a corner and we saw some campers. I don’t think S and I have ever been so happy to see campers.


Felt great to get out of those soaked clothes. Felt even better to enjoy a beer in downtown Monterey afterward. I only wish the sun had come out so we could have enjoyed the after ride BBQ, beer and expo. And of course, today’s forecast was for 75 and sun. I’m definitely not having any weather luck.

Bunny Hopping On Easter

We headed down to CT for some family Easter fun this past weekend. Given that all the snow has finally melted and the trails have dried out, we thought we'd take the mountain bikes with us. My parent's live very close to the town forest. I really never spent much time there while growing up but last fall when I was home, I needed to do a long run in preparation for the Monterey Half. I was pretty bored with the usual routes I do there so I headed off in a different direction. Good news: I discovered how nice the trails were to run on in the town forest. Bad news: got lost, and after I figured out where I was after 10 miles (and knew it was another 2-3miles home) I called Dad to come fetch me. Aren't Dads great?


Anyway, this was the inaugural ride of S's new Santa Cruz Superlight. We spent an half hour on Saturday setting up both shocks then off to the trails (this time with a map). Ended up riding a couple of hours both days. Totally fun. Weather still wasn't the greatest - sunny but a bit chilly and even some snow flurries on Easter morning.

BTW - loved my new Thule wheel carriers that Santa brought. Finally put them on the car for the road trip and they were super.

Next week - off to the west coast for work but throwing in a side trip to the Sea Otter Classic. Doing the mtb tour - low key, no racing, just out there to have fun. Renting a bike - hope I'm not sorry about that but it was just too expensive and too much hassle to take my own.

A New Year, New Season, New Goals

So my blog ended up being pretty lame during CX season. Maybe that's a good thing - I was too busy riding to be typing. To sum it up, the season was fun, Nationals was a blast and it left me aiming a little higher for the next season.

Last year, the NEBC women had a really comprehensive, great training program that I totally ignored. Why? Well, I was running, sailing boarding and generally doing a little bit of everything. I'm still somewhat perplexed by the fact that I can do some haphazard training for running and still win my age group. But cycling is a totally different animal. If you want to ride well, you have to ride a lot. Every time I complained, "I'm SOOOO slow! How do those girls beat me!" to anyone who knows anything about cycling (S, PFFC, The Columbian) all I heard back is , "They actually ride all the time."

And so, as hard as it is for me to do, I'm going to try to take my ADD training and actually focus on riding. Wah! I'm going to miss running.

So here are my refrigerator goals (yes, they are posted there):

1. Stick with THE PLAN!
2. Race 5 crits
3. Race 3 MTB races
4. Race 2 road races
5. Race the CBTT at least 10 times and improve my time 10% over the season
6. Race every cross weekend
7. Top 10 place in KC

So, I've spent the winter doing base miles on a spin bike. Lovely. It's April now and my view outside is all white - yes, another winter storm even though it's spring. THE PLAN says I'm supposed to do 118 minutes today. The roads were too icy so I went to Abusive Spin Class, (brand new spin bikes - Star Trac NXT - nice!) started class early, did class, stayed late and ended up with 113 minutes. Not bad. I actually can't believe I managed to stay on the bike that long inside.


As an aside, picked up the Merlin yesterday with its new cables, drivetrain (new Campy Chorus carbon compact cranks!). It's looking sweet! Unfortunately, given the snow and next week's travel to CA, I probably won't get to ride it until mid-April. Maybe by then I can even ride without booties.

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!