I have no off season...

They skiers I know keep their lives together in the summer.  The cyclists I know get their 'honey-do' lists done in the winter.  Most years, I don't even have an off weekend between the end of the fall cross season and ski season.

In December, I raced Fair Hill. On a Saturday.  It was a great course but my legs and head were checked out for the season and my result indicated that.  Ah well, at least I had to wear more than a shortsleeve skinsuit at ONE race this year.  It was fun - three bikes, three people, two dogs, and a minimal number of extra wheels.  That's right, I said two dogs.  I'll write more about Oz sometime.

Sunday morning after an early morning run, we drove to Vermont.  Ski instructor camp.  I'd never been, even though it's a big deal and almost a third of the Ski Liberty instructors make the trip.  Can I just say - I love starting ski season with strong legs and endurance!?

After nearly a week in Vermont, we drove back late and I did one of my favorite things on Saturday - lead a hiring clinic for a small group of new instructors.  Only this year, the resort wasn't open yet.  Warm weather meant we were confined to a strip of white on the beginner's hill and a lift open just for us.  The weather didn't get colder after that... and the resort didn't officially open until December 30th this season.

But wait, how cool is that - I had like 2 weekends of an offseason.  I rode my bike.  A lot.  More training hours than November or October.  I played on the rocks at the Shed. A lot.  I rode with friends on the road. Long rides in the wind. Long rides in 60 degree December balminess.  Long rides in chillier weather.  I didn't get enough science done, but I thought about my science a lot.  That helped, actually.

Right now, I feel great.  Life has been busy but balanced.  But the crux of ski season is on me.  I have some travel coming up for training and personal skiing, then some more likely for PSIA events.  Plus every weekend, I teach beginner skiers, beginner instructors, and all the gang that's been around for years.  Yikes. Time to hold on until March.

I have some big goals this year for cycling.  If you see me on the slopes, ask me how my training is going.  I don't want to forget who I am the other 8 months of the year!

looks good on paper, but...

I wrote most of this post right after Cap Cross in December but just didn't feel okay posting it yet.  I just finished it and here ya go.

 What I learned about cyclocross this weekend: I love the gals we race with.  What a good group.

Cap Cross. Two years ago it was icy.  Three years ago, so windy that popups were rolling through the parking lot.  This year - sunny, 55 degrees, perfect weather to spend outside all day.  Technical course with a bunch of power sections.  Awesome fun downhill.

Toeing the line with 16 other women.  How cool is that?!  We're routinely getting elite fields >10 in the region now.

I had a good start, coming off the second row and sitting about 5th heading onto the grass.  Hoping to make the early selection and stay in the draft across the bridge.  A rider ahead of me started to wobble. I went wide.  She went down, so did the gal behind her.  I looked over and in a split second when I normally would say something to the effect of, "C'mon Erin, get back on it, let's go," I saw pain.  Not sure how my brain knew it other than instinct, seeing as I was already almost seeing stars from the start.  A half a beat later, a wail of excrutiating pain.  Crap.  I checked my speed a bit. Talked to the woman behind me.  But kept going.  I'm not sure what else to do.  But I couldn't get my head back into it.  Couldn't go as hard as I can nor as aggressive.

By the time we got to the end of the lap, they neutralized the race.  The ambulance was immobilizing a badly broken ankle.

We milled around.  As a group, we decided to basically parade the restart without contesting.  Didn't mean we went slow, but we didn't pass aggressively, sprint, or do anything particuarly competitive.  The cash for the day went to Erin - a group decision - to cover her deductible. 

I've decided it's okay that this affects me - upsets me even.  She's a friend and we were doing what we love.  It's okay to lose the killer instinct for a couple hours.  That's why we love the community.

Update: Erin is just now spinning with no resistance.  She's got some extra metal in that ankle, but will be back next year, no doubt.

the why

A cross friend, FatMarc, asked on Facebook "Why do you race your bicycle?"

My answer... "I love finding my limits. Physically, mentally, emotionally. In training and in racing. :)"

But it's more than that.  I love expanding those physical limits, becoming smarter tactically, and learning to tough through the hard parts of racing.  And training.  I love the feeling of sliding my bike around a corner at speed.  I love a set of clean barriers. I love that feeling of power on a bike - that I'm driving it. I love sticking it up a tough climb in a long race.  Especially when I pass a guy (or three) walking up it (sorry, but we call that getting chicked). I love digging out of that mental cave that comes at some point in every long race.  Knowing my body well enough to push hard or harder, force myself to eat, and even pull from a race. I love seeing friends at the start.  Cheering for them in their races, seeing them in the pit, talking about bike parts. Surrounding myself most weekends with others who value lifelong health.


But there's more training than racing, despite the way this blog goes.  And I love racing because it keeps me training.  Keeps me focused (at least somewhat) on eating well and taking care of my body.  Lets me feel energetic, healthy, and strong. Lets me feel proud of myself.  And these are all the reasons that I encourage other women (and men) to race.

a note to my dog

Dear Gidders,

This is, I think, my farewell note to you.  It's probably weird to write a note to my dog, but sometimes I think you're smart enough that you'd understand half the words here if I read it out loud.

Seven years ago, when we went back to the dog adopt-a-thon after not finding you the first time, I think Shea was rolling his eyes.  Allie was a crazy dog, and we (or was it just me?) were hoping a playmate might settle her.  You tumbled out of the cage into Shea's lap - sweet eyes just wanting cuddles and love, something you'd not had much of in your first year of life.  You and Allie were wrestling before we were finished with the paperwork.  Turns out, this was a special relationship you'd have with her.  We already knew she didn't play nice with many other dogs.  You didn't play at all.  Except with Allie.  It was regular party entertainment to watch you two "kids" wrestle.  Amazingly, I think in 7+ years we only had one wrestling-related trip to the vet - an eye scratch. 

You stole all the toys and kept them in your bed, rustled in bike bags to rescue powdered drink mixes that needed to be eaten, chewed through jersey pockets for gu wrappers and always left Allie the beef jerky.  Walked in a straight line on the sidewalk, never veering.  Chased the frisbee until your tongue was twice as long as your snout. And all the pet-sitters we ever had told me that you followed the rules they didn't know about.  Sit at the corner. Sit to get your food.  Oh, wait, except the one about not getting on the couch.

Do you remember your first onions?  I was making soup in the Salt Lake kitchen, where the walk from the countertop to the stove was more than 2 steps.  Handful of onions went crashing to the floor.  I kept going, threw the rest in the pot.  The rest were gone when I turned around.  You were a weird dog.  Onions?  Raw garlic?  We even tried hot sauce to keep you from eating something off the table.  I spilled some on the floor in the process. You licked it up and begged for more.

What about the mushrooms?  I think we left a gate open and went to Home Depot.  Allie was behind the picket fence when we got home - you were sitting nicely in the neighbor's yard.  An hour later, you were puking.  Up came something that resembled chicken.  Some excellent detective work by Shea revealed you'd mowed down a patch of wild mushrooms next door.  And I mean mowed.  We only figured out what you'd eaten because you'd left a single stem under a rock.

You were always the one I could take anywhere.  A toddler, tugging on your leash insistently, while you dozed at the farmer's market.  You rolled your eyes and didn't budge.  Tied in the back of the car at many a 'cross race.  Running.  Okay, walking while I "ran".  Into lab when I was a grad student. To mom's, where the doors were more interesting than any of the herdable animals.  Where you helped during strawberry picking by catching every soft one we threw in your direction. Of course, the single best place to be was being petted by anyone, while looking at me.

But sometimes, your timidness came out.  The Steelers parties in Salt Lake... Allie would play with the big dogs.  You'd hide under my legs until all of the sudden, something good or bad happened in the game and that wasn't a safe place to be any more...  Remember our first hike together?  Shea had to carry you across a little stream with a log bridge.  You were so scared.  But then you learned.  Followed the trail without fail.  Curled up in the tent vestibule, trembling through a thunderstorm.  Carried the pack when Allie was too tired, having been kept up all night by a talkative chipmunk.  Discovered the thrill of chasing a squirrel. Trundled up and down the trails in Bountiful, Park City and Moab while I rode, staying behind my wheel on the downhills and pulling me up the climbs.  Listened obediently when we saw hundreds of sheep, a few sheepdogs and other border collies, and, oh yeah, the herders with guns on their horses.

We drove across the country together, just you and I.  The only time you got to sit in the front seat.  I had too many bikes and things in the back of the Focus for you to fit.  We both made it through whole tanks of gas at a time.  I got more than a little freaked out by the weird trucker dude who thought I'd abandoned you, tied to a tree with a water bowl while I went inside for 5 minutes to use the ladies room.  I'll bet that hamburger he gave you tasted good, though.

You were a good dog.  More my dog than any I ever had as a kid.  More my dog than Shea's. Here's hoping that in puppy heaven for Gideon, you have hundreds of tomato plants to eat cherry tomatoes off the vine.  The wild mushrooms are plentiful and non-toxic.  The frisbees fly high, the grass is lush for rolling in, and the paths all go interesting places. You get cuddles all the time.  I know you... you'll miss your people there.  But we won't forget you.  I'll miss ya buddy.  You were a good dog.  Seven years was not enough.

my feet hurt

Okay, they don't hurt badly, but it's been warm and I've been in my boots 9 out of the past 10 days.  I'm not really sure how that works and I'm certain that it means I'll pull a couple of long days at work this week to get caught up with my flies.  When it's warm, my feet swell a bit and rub in places they shouldn't.  I also have discovered that my sunscreen is outdated (i.e. doesn't work well anymore) and I need to acquire some new.

I've been out on the road with PSIA - understudying and administering an exam then some more understudying.  And then back at Liberty for a full weekend - complete with dinner in the tavern with some divas and getting our lessons planned so we could leave soon after our shift was over.  Oh, and I've been volunteering so that I can teach more beginner skiers. 

Turns out I love teaching beginners.  I can only hope that the people in my groups have as much fun as I do.  Lots of success with them this weekend.  On Saturday - it was in the (light) rain.  Nothing like volunteering at a rainy lineup to feel like you're contributing!

A rodeo rider in my group (seriously! - he was from Mexico City) crashed all the time but was thrilled with it.  Another young woman was checking skiing off of her bucket list.  She went sky-diving last weekend. 

A family of three was learning together - snowboarding didn't stick.  Church group friends were making fun of each other and making near-parallel turns.

A 10 year old asked me if I knew much about skiing.  She announced she didn't know anything and could I please teach her.  A timid woman just "got it".

My groups were cheering for each others' successes this weekend.  It was pretty cool.  I also watched at least 3 of them forget to get off the lift and trip the stop gate (on separate occasions).  Whoops.

But - scary moments too.  An instructor in my clinic group fell this weekend and wound up with a concussion.  I think I'm getting a road ID to wear while skiing.  Watching the staff work to get contact information is motivating that decision.  They had his cell phone, all the numbers in the HR office and his 8 year old son was with him in the ski patrol room.  What if he left his cell in his bag and was at a resort he didn't work at?  Thankfully, he only spent a night under observation, but won't be on skis again this month.

the ones with the crashes on the first lap

Granogue.  It's always epic.  Last year, particularly so.

This year Granogue was doubling up, with big fields and two days of racing.  I was finishing a stint of 7 races in 16 days.  I think I'm still recovering, even as late as this race report is.

Day 1.  The crash in the sand pit.  Lap 1 - the top 5 of us ran front wheels into cassettes and wound up laying in the sand.  I dropped a chain and had some trouble with the remount, so I spent the next 30 minutes fighting back from about 8th to 4th.

Day 2.  The sketchy remount that I didn't crash on.  But I crashed on the approach.  In fact, crash might not be the right word.  Nystrom described it as "acrobatic" and later said, "I've never seen anyone do a cartwheel with their bike before".  In all of that, I only lost a spot or two and battled to stay on, but Erin and Britlee got off the front by about 20 seconds that I wouldn't get back from Erin.  Britlee dropped her chain on the last lap but held onto 2nd at the line in sprint.  She's strong.

Lots of good folks out racing their guts out last weekend.  Good to see Diane in the points, Kat recovering from a nasty crash on day 1, the masters' "mid-pack" riders duking it out with each other, Phil eking out a granogue double-double, Weaver deciding not to ride the Saturday run-up, even though he could in practice, Cati on my heels, J.T. flying the Kelly green and in the top half her first year racing cross, Stacey in the money in her first UCI weekend, and Zach, putting his shoe back on at the top of the run-up.

epic adventures at the watershed

The problem with a great trail system on the east coast is that often it's a bit too easy to get lost.  In Utah, the theme is pretty simple, you go up along the side of a mountain, you go down the other side, rinse and repeat.  You get on the bike and GO somewhere.

Where our terrain is a bit more limited, we don't go anywhere.  Except in circles.  Little loops, connecting one trail to another, figure 8's, all within a handful of square miles.  It took me a while to get used to this and find my way around our local haunts.  But even my cat-like sense of direction (and sense of distance/altitude) still fails when we're somewhere less familiar.

Like Frederick.  Ah, Frederick.  The trails are fantastic. Rocky, steep, mostly rideable.  And completely unmapped.

I've been out there 3 times so far this year.  Not enough.

Trip 1:  Mazz, Shea and I.  We got ridiculously misguided, ran out of water with more than an hour left of riding, and I broke my Sidi's.  Yeah, really - I hit a rock with my crank (a common occurrence) and the sole separated from the upper.  Total ride time was at least 3 hours longer than we'd planned on.  The awesomeness of the riding might've been overshadowed by the complete and total bonk-tasticness of the afternoon.  38 miles in 7 1/2 hours.  In May.  Ouch.

Trip 2: Mazz, Marc and I.  We only got a bit lost, and made it back to the car (and Mexican food) about 1 1/2  hours later than anticipated.  But this relative success was partly because we stuck to some of the trails with blazes in Gambrill.  Mazz did a header over a log at least once, Marc cussed him out for riding his singlespeed up stuff that our geared 29ers thought should be walked.  Good times.  And margaritas and Mexican afterwards at Poblano Grill.  Perfect post-ride food.

Trip 3:  Shea and I.  We couldn't find our intended (new to us) parking spot, but found it by bikes after parking at a popular one.  Total ride time: 15 minutes longer than planned.  No kidding.  Of course, we stopped and some really nice guy named Dave made sure we went the right direction on one of those little gravel roads, but this must've been a record.  Oh, and that counts riding the steep ass hill my coach wanted me to start on and dropping through some phenomenal new singletrack.  I rode hard and started to flow, even through the rock gardens.  Shea even said he was almost at his race pace following me through a smooth spot.  Cool.

Joining the bloody knee club: round 2

I wrote last year about how everyone who rides with me gets a bloody knee or two.  I'm the one with the trouble this month.

A few weeks ago at Fair Hill, I raced 50 miles and crashed only once, but managed to scrape up both knees in the process.  No biggie.

Until last week when I was running.  I tripped on the sidewalk and fell flat on my face, sorta like a 9 year old.  Laying on a Baltimore street with oozing road rash on both of those newly healed knees, both palms and one elbow, I toughed it out and jogged home.  Past the bus stop with all the people waiting. 

Yeah, that's what I needed in my morning - showing off my I-can't-pick-up-my-feet wounds to a some random Baltimoreans - of course, it is Baltimore, so we should be used to seeing blood. A shower and several howling episodes of Nu-skin spray later, I was off to work.

Yesterday, I was thinking how well I was healing - the scabs were starting to come off and pink new skin was waiting underneath.

But there's a rule for pink new skin - don't abuse it.  Trail running last night... you guessed it, I tripped on a root and fell flat on my face.  Again.  Possibly flatter this time.  So much for that new skin... 

I was also covered in dirt.  Dirt + sweat = a "tan" belly - I'm still fishing some wood chips out of my belly button - perhaps next time I'll wear a shirt instead of just a sports bra. 

Next week, no matter what the coach says, I'm running before I ride!

rookie mistakes

I've got a new teammate who's a runner by first trade and cyclist second.  And somewhere in there she mountain biked a few times ten years ago without much success.  On a ride a few weeks ago with her,  I realized how much more I know about bikes, bike maintenance, and even how to ride the logs than I did a few years ago.  I owe it all to the peeps who were patient with me and the blood vessels that continue to heal my bruises.

So here are some of easy-to-fix rookie mistakes I've noticed over the last year or so of hanging out with a few newbies in the woods:

1.  Smearing dirty, oily fingers all over the disc brake rotor.

2.  Laying the bike down on the drive train side.  Even the not-so-rookies do this.  It drives my mechanic crazy.

3.  Riding with one leg straight on the downhills. 

4.  Looking where you don't want to wind up.  Hey, sis who rode into/over a rather large rock - this is you.

5.  Over or under tightening skewers.  Yes, I've watched people's REAR wheels fall out of the dropouts over logs. Yes, I've watched this happen more than once.


6.  Under-inflating tires.  Guess this isn't a rookie mistake - it's the single thing my in-house mechanic is not very good at.  Especially when it's his bike.  I predict I will see more of this at Michaux this weekend.

7.  Underestimating the importance of clean shorts for (and after) every ride.

8.  Dropping a chain going uphill due to poor shifting.  Oh, wait, some pros might occasionally do this too...

Having teammates who Drop me...

I have some great ones.  I lucked along into a local team based on the fact that on the first group ride I went with them on, they Dropped me but didn't leave me lost in the woods.  And I mean dropped with a capital D.  It was nearly two years ago, and it was pretty much the whole team.  These guys were destroying me.  I had no idea you could go that fast on a mountain bike, let alone (in some cases) a single speed and at an "advanced" age.


Really rather serendipitous... racing for LSV has been great to me - I've bought bikes, borrowed bikes, gotten cheered and learned a ton from teammates... and, one of the guys suggested I try cyclocross.  I'd have never guess that I possibly love racing a bike with drop handlebars better than its fat-tired brother.

Thursday night, I hit the woods with a few of the fast guys - prepared to be Dropped.  I was, but not with a capital D.  Until we were about an hour in and hit a steeper climb.  I have some fitness to catch up on this year, but I was pretty pleased that at least one of them was sweating, and they claimed they hadn't been waiting long every time we stopped.

Today, a few of us headed out to Gambrill for some rockier terrain - a bit of a mental warmup for the upcoming Michaux painfest in two weeks.  We were in it for social riding today - but I hung in for the most part.  What fun to go out in the woods, ride my bike hard with/behind other guys who race, and then inhale some pretty decent mexican food on the drive home.

Yes, Virginia, I am a mudder...

Can you imagine a more perfect muddy bike race?  Couple inches of rain overnight, misty morning, beautiful 70 degree sun by the afternoon for my cross season opener - the Ed Sander Memorial Cyclocross event at Lily Pons watergardens south of Frederick, MD.

This is the first year they've bumped the Cat 4 women (that's novice, for you non-cyclists) into our own class for the MABRA series.  I weaseled my way into a front row start (hey, if they'd actually done callups as advertised, I would've been front row by order of reg. AND last year's points) and had the hole shot onto the off camber turn onto the grass.  I did a great job of taking my brain out of this early success and quickly settled into a sustainable but strong pace - two women passed me early but I lost track of one and the other had a tough barrier and I didn't see her again.

In the pre-ride, I found that an acquaintance from the mountain bike circuit was racing her first cross race.  On her Superfly.  Now, with the quantity of mud there, this probably wasn't all bad for her.  I knew she'd be strong.  I didn't think she'd be hanging on my wheel for the first two laps and then finally pass me in the mud pits (which she was riding and I was running) for the eventual win.  I stayed on for a while, then got dropped but felt really good - she was still in sight and I caught a couple of women in the back of the Elite field (including one who I practice with and was SUPER encouraging - sometimes I love racing with women!).

The course was mostly the same as last year - flat for the first half with a couple hundred yards of mud pit - a few short hills and technical off camber stuff on the other half.  A mandatory run-up and slip-sliding short downhill in the back section make it interesting.  I rode really well - still not feeling great at race pace on my dismounts and remounts, despite all the practice.  But I rode all the rideable hills.  Pretty sure I half-heartedly pushed my bike up many of them last year.  Great cheering from friends and teammates pushed me to buckle down and pedal hard.  If you're reading this - I heard you all and THANKS!  And congrats to all the friends and teammates who raced today as well!

Honestly, it felt like I rode a great race and was 2nd (!!!!!) in the Cat 4's out of 20 starters (18 finished).  Pretty psyched about that - in this series last year when it was Cat 3/4 I occasionally broke the top 10 and finished in the bottom half most of the time.  My best ever finish by far in cross!  As for my prizes on the day - I scored a pair leg warmers and a pair of woolie socks which look fuzzy warm but are too big so Shea'll get them. Wonder how I'll handle next weekend's double?

Joining the bloody knee club...

Turns out, its not safe for the skin on your knees to ride with me.  If you're female on a mountain bike (or singlespeed cross bike!), at least.  I'm the 5th person riding with me to skin a knee this summer.  I think it started with Dirty Girl, then a newbie, then Jess at cyclocross camp and finally another newbie (aka Box Chuckin' Sister) just last weekend.  4 of the 5 (counting me) were left knees.  I saved the least amount of blood for myself...  (most of that is mud!).

Shea and I were out for a fast ride after work, hoping to avoid the rain.  I was trying to keep up, even though he's pretty fast on the new 29er, and took a corner too hard, lost front traction and was suddenly on the ground.  Ah, well.  I did slow down a bit after that.  It was the "good" kind of wreck, though - riding to the limits of the bike, flowing well.  Much better riding than my rock garden escapade on Sunday.  I hope this flow thing translates to my cross bike Sunday even if I have to crash a few times to get there.

Random collections

Random collection of friends. Really, that's what I want in life. People I've found along the way, those who found and adopted me, buds that I've shared a variety of life experiences with. Yesterday, we partied at my mom's for the (apparently annual) pool party at the farm (also known as - our summer house in the country). What was cool was that despite there being many people out of town/on vacation/otherwise engaged, people showed up and I think they even had fun. I did.

Work friends and a BFF from high school, ski instructor drinking buds and bike racing ex-teammates (apparently all the teammates were on vacation or had fussy children!). I shared a bottle of wine with the children's ski school supervisor (who hired me 13 or so years ago to teach), dipped my toes in the cool pool water with my pregnant British colleague from lab, and played with my high school friends' two year old twin boys. We set up a mountain biking trials course on the lawn to work on bridge riding skills with the ski race coaches from Liberty (who are moving to Utah soon) and picked crabs. As the night rolled on, Dirty Girl got into the vodka-soaked watermelon and pretty much everyone left wound up in the hot tub. Fireside chats in or around the hot tub capped the evening...

Eventually everyone except Dirty Girl sobered up and trundled homeward. She crashed in the other guest room and woke up this morning having enjoyed the late night fireworks/thunderstorm and hungry for French Toast and Canadian Bacon ala Mom.

What fun. Thanks everyone for bringing your random collections of life experiences to the table.

Word of the night: jalapeno. Ask Shea about it when you see him.

3 laps is better than 2...

Whew. I've been thinking about upgrading from beginner class to sport lately, and finally did it with the support/urging of some teammates. This was actually a season goal for me - I had mediocre success last year that led me to believe I could race the early season in beginner and feel comfortable upgrading by mid-June. That was a bit optimistic, but I've had success lately and definitely don't want to feel like a "sandbagger"... Today's Cranky Monkey Wakefield event was my first in the Sport class, and for the most part, the biggest difference is the riders are faster (and better) and there are more laps. In this case, 3 instead of 2. 18 miles.

I have to say, this was probably the most fun race I've done all year. I went out with the attitude that there were going to be chicks there who could pound me into the ground, so I hoped to (once again), get faster as the race went on and remember to eat and hydrate. Update: here's me in the professional race photos, looking dialed in.

At the start, for some reason they put the women and clydesdale classes together (I was warming up until after they started announcements, so I missed the logic), and the women had all lined up at the back. That's fine, I was out to have some fun, remember? But as we know, I like to start hard and fast and hit the singletrack first so that I can burn out too early and be grounchy with myself. So it was probably a blessing in disguise. I had a pretty decent start regardless - I was the third woman but we were still in a mix of men, so I couldn't tell for sure that was the case.

Within the first mile, I had an awesome "Superfly moment" (that's what I'm going to call it when I love the 29er wheels) - over a rooty whoopy up section, the guy in front of me took the good line/spun out/was soon to be walking. I powered up over the roots on the harder line, clipped out with one foot for a push, and was off again. What fun! I passed a few of the men in the first woods section - and was feeling pretty good. The roots and logs were a little slippery, but I was very relaxed, riding well, and quick to settle into my endurance pace. I expected that there were at least a female or two off the front (a suspicion that I continued to assert to the many a spectator later).

The first time we hit a bit of road, I caught one of the women who'd hit the singletrack first, and followed her for the next mile or so through a bit of climbing. Since it was clear she was holding me up going uphill, I powered through the next road section, passing her and (it turns out) another woman as well (a fact that I overlooked at the time). I was feeling really good - somehow in the last year I've gone from "droppee" to "dropper" on some of the hills.

About 2/3 through the first lap, I just had a moment where I realized how much fun I was having. Beautiful day, very courteous guys to pass, fun singletrack with berms and purpose-built mountain bike trails... and wow, it's so much more fun to race when you have little chance of winning... well, that's what I thought, anyway. And to top it off, my lap time was about where I thought I could manage for 3 laps. I struggled to get a ShotBlok out of my pocket and started the second lap with a very awkwardly hopped curb.

Midway through the second lap, someone I passed said I was leading, to which I asserted that was not possible - there were women off the front. Then some spectators told me the same thing - I told them the women off the front were so far ahead they hadn't seen 'em. Why, when Shea told me I was leading I didn't believe him, I don't know, but I continued to think I was at least several minutes off the leaders. This was actually good - I was relaxed and settled into my pace, enjoying the ride and staying well within my heart rate range. I think. I wouldn't actually know that because my heart rate moniter hasn't been working all season and I still haven't fixed it.

By the third lap, I was really happy - powering through things, still riding technically sound, and totally looking forward to the downhill bermed turns near the finish. Last year those terrified me. I knew when I finished I'd had one of my best races ever. And that I'd managed to eat and hydrate and get faster (lap times of 34:42, 34:28, and 34:12) as the race went on. Success to me. I still didn't believe Shea when he said I'd won. But then they posted results, and in fact, I had. All the evidence said that I'd upgraded and won my first race in sport by leading for most of the race. I guess it was good that I upgraded...
My rookie mistake of the day - the sunscreen never made it out of the car. I am just a bit pinker than I prefer.

Friendly racing...

Today was one of my fav's on the MASS series - Fair Hill. Friendly because I know a lot of the competitors, we had a good team showing, and friends new to racing with us. Fun singletrack without too much sustained climbing. And no laps - the beginner race is 13 wonderful miles. This is made even sweeter by the fact that every time we go to just ride Fair Hill, we get hopelessly lost and cannot find the most awesome singletrack pieces. Racing there is great - the arrows tell me where to go! Next year, when I'm racing a different category, I'll get to enjoy even more of it.

At the start line, I reminded myself of my goals- finish in less than 1 1/2 hours and go out hard but not so hard that I had no juice left for miles 10-13. I felt pretty good on the start - got dropped by the eventual winner pretty early on and gapped all the other women that I started with at about the same time. I made my first mental mistake of tree + handlebar = wobble early about 2 miles in. I settled a bit and enjoyed the twistyness, trying to push myself to use bigger gears and go faster on the uphills. This was mostly working, as I was passing a lot of slower guys. Not sure if it felt like more than normal because I was riding stronger or there were more of them.

By the time I heard "one mile to go" about two miles from the finish, I started to hammer pretty hard and was able to finish strong, despite the inaccuracy in the "one mile to go" comment. My computer had stopped working at mile 2.5, after briefly flirting with wildly varying speeds - 0.0, 4.0, 12.5, 7.0 all within a few wheel turns... I think it knows when I'm racing and decides to die then. Looks like it's about to meet its own end.

All in all, a great race. I finished 2nd overall, out of all of the beginner women actually, and felt really good doing it. For my effort, I scored a 2010 MD state parks pass, which we usually buy anyway. Kool! When results are posted online, I'll probably spend a bit of time figuring out whether I should upgrade this year or finish the season in beginner class.

Good showing from the Kelly Benefits/LSV crew today - Shea, Karl, Phil, Sherri, Dave, and Chip were all out there. And, because of when they ran the races, the experts finished just after we beginners did, so the post race recovery was a bit more social than usual. In addition, Dirty Girl and Mike, both fellow ski instructors were hitting up the dirt as well. Congrats to everyone - Dirty Girl, Mike, Sherri and Phil for finishing. Dave was in the Elite $$, Chip and Shea in the top 10, and Karl took 2nd after a harried morning.

Riding with newbies...

I'm finding that the best kind of recovery ride for me is with new cyclists. I have a steady supply of those this year, it seems. Fellow ski instructors who are finding out how fun it is to play in the dirt, renewing their interest, or generally feeling like being in better shape and deciding that cycling is a good way to do it. Sunday, after my enduro race, I went out with a never-been-mountain-biking ski instructor friend and my sister, who tells boxes and horses what to do for a living (not at the same time).

Recovery rides and novice cyclists are great together for two reasons - 1. I always remember how much fun riding is and 2. I can go slow. Really really slow. I can even walk up the hills I don't feel like riding without feeling guilty (after all, it's supportive of those who can't ride up 'em yet!)

We were riding Patapsco, a fine example of local singletrack, on Sunday afternoon. A bunch of us met and did a lot of bike adjustments in the parking lot - I was borrowing a bike from a friend so that Newbie could ride mine, so there was lots of seat adjusting, pedal switching, chain lubing, etc. Nothing like me on a pink bike. Very pink.

Once we started riding, Shea, Octo-arms (our favorite touchy-feely snowboard instructor), Chris, Dirty girl and a Northern Virginia chica were off the front early on. Dirty girl, who shall remain unnamed here but I will say that she volunteered that nickname for herself, is finally off of her old Specialized Rockhopper and on the Fisher Big Sur GS that she picked out. Sweet deal on a model a year or so old from Light Street Cycles here in Charm City.

After hiking a bike up the first big hill, Newbie, Box Chuckin' Sister and I headed onto some of the easier trails to be had. Newbie crashed. Twice. Within a couple hundred yards. Over the handlebars both times. Now, I should say that newbie is an accomplished skier, so she's got the balance and healthy understanding of gravity that goes a long way toward learning to ride. A couple of bloody knees later, what she also has now - knowledge of which brake is the front one. Turns out a little confusion there was causing the endos. We wound up having a good ride around a few loops, walking that which was too steep to feel comfortable riding just yet and generally figuring out how to shift the center of gravity back off the saddle and let the legs do some absorbing. Good fun.

Apparently, though, I missed the real exciting part of the day, when Octo-arms heard a loud crack while dropping off a log. Lots of confused people looked around to figure out what broke, but let me remind you - when carbon fails, it fails catastrophically. He's got a front-to-back crack in the top tube that's giving his frame a bit more flex than it should have. It should be on its way back for a warranty replacement from Trek soon.

Mmmm... topped off with Doritoes and cold watermelon at the car.

Swinging from the sky

A few months ago, perhaps after a pitcher at the Liberty tavern, a few ski instructor friends convinced me that in order to see them in the summer, we'd go do Trapeze together. Yes, as in, flying trapeze, like they do in the circus, only much, much simpler and with ropes and nets to catch me. It turns out, ski instructors all bike and party in the summer too, so we've hung out without having to hang upside down.

But, this was an especially good plan since another friend of ours co-operates the trapeze school, which recently relocated from Baltimore to D.C. so they can have a year-round rig. So we met up in a parking lot near the convention center, signed our lives away, and started with "Ground School". It should be no surprise to me that the instructors were good - Brian is one of the best skiing clinicians I've worked with and quickly working his way up the PSIA ladder to eventually be an examiner. I expected his staff to be well-versed in presenting information, dealing with fear, and having fun. They were.

After we were cinched into our safety belts (even the skinny people get pooch tummies from this process), we learned that we would be learning a knee hang and a backflip dismount from a swinging bar some 20 feet above the bouncy net. But the key - do "what they say when they say it". Okay, I really think I can follow directions. I hope.

I'll admit that the first time up the ladder to the platform was pretty overwhelming. I really saw how the trust built on the ground was essential for success here. The instructor at the top told me to lean forward while they held my belt so that I could reach for the bar. Two hands on, improbably leaning forward into space, gripping a swing. How did I get here?

On "Hep", I hop and am off into space. Whew, this is scary fun. But then the hard part - I'm supposed to do something? Wait, who said this was gonna be work? Legs on the bar. Ha. If you fail to time it like they say (back to the "what they say when they say part"), this is nearly impossible for someone with less than a lotta abs. Of course, when I later listened at the right time, it was much easier - momentum is a wonderful thing.

Once I got my legs up over the bar, I had to let go with my hands, hanging upside down! What fun. Once right-side-up again, a swift set of kicks and letting go at the right time leads to a backflip. Which, I of course discovered, can also turn into landing on your face. Gently, of course, because those safety lines are being held by someone who slows you to prevent the face on net experience.

Toward the end of the class, an amazingly strong Neil from South Africa (I think!) climbs a rope (like in elementary school, only missing the knots) to another bar and starts swinging. If I can time all that knee hang stuff right, this rather attractive guy with an accent is going to catch me?! (truth be told, he also got to catch Shea and Zeke and Brian). Under the pressure of timing for the catch, I got my knee hang on the first try and made it! How cool.

In talking with Brian while at the rig, he pointed out that we, as teachers and coaches and athletes and people, should be a beginner at something every once in a while. As coaches, learning something new lets us feel the fear that our skiing students have - how do I look? am I wearing the right thing? can I do this? will I be the only one who can't? wow, it's really high up here... As an athlete, it's good to be moving in new ways and figuring out how to listen to directions again without existing movement patterns getting in the way. Plus, when you do something new with friends, well, it's just plain fun.

Sidenote: Fun pictures coming as soon as those with the camera upload them.

Catching up with friends...

One of our favorite couples from Utah showed up in D.C. this weekend with time in their very busy schedule for dinner with us. After a cultural drive through the Northwest district (seriously, how can a salon "Specialize in ALL types of hair?"), we made our way to 9th and U for Ethiopian food. Having lived in Utah for 6 or so years, I can completely appreciate their desire for ethnic cuisine. There is not a single Ethiopian restaurant in the metropolis of Salt Lake City. Which means there's also not a single one probably until you get to Vegas... Hands down, though, the Mexican food is better out west. From street tacos to moles, even guacamole is better there...

But back to Ethiopian. It's one of the few types of food that I really don't know how to order. Everything looks good on the menu, but then the food comes out and some dishes are saucy, others just meat. Luckily, we were smart enough to ask the waitress for help ordering, so we wound up with a mix of both. Also luckily, the food took FOREVER to get to our table. I was starving, but so enjoy catching up with the Smurfs. They regaled us with stories of their three boys, including how their oldest wants a BMX bike for his 5th birthday. They claim it won't be as cool as his friend's.... peer pressure before elementary school, wow. Wish we were still there to hang with them and enjoy their kids growing up...

Sadly or happily, since we moved from Utah, they have taken up cycling. Papa Smurf is riding the MS150 in a few weeks, and Mrs. Smurf is lobbying for a road-bike of her own (her mountain bike and off road triathlon skills are better than his anyway!). Papa Smurf is looking particularly good for the effort. They also travel more than anyone I know. Ireland, Hawaii, D.C. ... when they talk of a cycling trip in Italy - oooo... Italian food I know how to order... I have so much respect for their talent at balancing themselves as individuals and a couple with the challenges of raising a family.