B.rad

I think of you often, Brad.

Just where the trail splits in two, north of the University, next to Metropolitan Market. One day in early spring we crossed paths - you on one side of the moat, I on the other. You took your hands off your bars, sat up and said, "hey fast lady!"

I think of you every time I ride there, which is pretty much every other day.

I remember that morning. It was raining, as usual. You were helping with the race - spearheading it and coordinated volunteers. Your contribution to the cycling community unparalleled. Calmly, you told me how to take that final corner - instilling confidence in a daunting task of taking a slippery turn at 30 mph.

And the time Emily and I traveled down to Alpenrose for the AVC my first year of track racing. How happy you were to see your wife home that Sunday, commenting "thanks for bringing my wife home safely." That kind of love makes tears well up in my eyes.

I think of you when I look at Rainer. Knowing you're there in spirit and mind. Probably hanging with Ryan and having a great time.

You are missed Brad. You are missed.

updation

Whoa, where did last week go?

It's funny how when it's a rest week a lot of things don't get done even though you have the time. Why is that? Is it because when you don't have time you're suddenly able to do more? Or is it because the beauty of being a woman comes into play and your multitasking skills shine through?

Or was it from the keg stands I did at my birthday party on Wednesday that had me rocked until just yesterday? It couldn't be that... no way! It totally was.

Thank you all who came out to my house on a Wednesday to help me celebrate the milestone year of 32. Not to mention the Tallboys who played in my living room and Danielle's amazing BBQ catering - along with a Maritime Pale Ale keg. Good times! I even got to wear my new Value Village chaps.

But this week it's back to reality - including back to some hard core training. The rest week is over! And now I'm facing back to back to back double day workouts with some serious interval training sessions in prep for the upcoming season. Jennie increased the intensity of everything - from weights to intervals. My motto? Suffer now so you don't have to suffer later. And it pays off - it already has - so I know the deeper I dig now, the more it'll pay off later. And there are National titles to win and world cup aspirations to be had... so giddy up!

On a side note - our MVA auction was another HUGE success. I got some sweet Edge track wheels out of the deal and the best part? 100% of the amount I paid for them goes directly to the MVA. Thanks to everyone who went to the auction and donated as well as bought some items there.

Oh and Squadra is back to their short shenanigans. Remember last years fiasco with the sugar shorts? Well this year there appears to be something missing from the side panel... DOPE!

Pushing

Last weekend couldn't have been any better.

I am still reliving its highlights and am stoked about the progression I've made on the bike. Focusing on something 100% really does make a difference and eliminating distractions really helps performance. Setting yourself up for success can take a while - mainly because we are constantly bombarded by daily distractions and big picture hurdles but if you will it - you can do it. And those emotions and positive energy will in turn come back to you.

Take racing as the easiest metaphor. So much of what you do both on and off the bike translates to pushing your body through space and time. If your energy is directed at something else - you risk losing your focus and having sub par performances. You struggle with why things aren't going as well - but have you considered it's because other things in your life aren't as smooth as they could be? Are you having a hard time accepting something at work, in a relationship or finding the balance between work and play? How about taking a moment, thinking about what is taking up some of your energy and figuring out positive ways to make the most out of the situation. When you achieve this harmony it translates into harmony in everything you do, including time spent on the bike.

This very notion came to fruition this past weekend. Since January I've been working on pairing my workout schedule with whole some foods and carbs at the right time. I have been diligent about getting my recovery drinks in immediately after a session and fueling up shortly thereafter. Slowly, but surely the weight has crept off. But more importantly my performance continues to get stronger. As diligent as I have been about getting every last second of VO2 max efforts I can out of my body, I immediately fuel it with home cooked meals.

Earlier in the season I mentioned to Jennie I had my sights on IVRR. I put this race on the schedule because I've done poorly at it in the past and was ready to give it a go. There were doubts in my head from previous experiences - mainly because up until this point I didn't consider myself a climber. So she put the race as "optional" on my calendar. But we still keyed up for it. I climbed lots of hills - digging deep into my reservoirs and building up my weaponry. Then when several teammates signed up - I figured I'd be in great company and really get to test my legs and fitness.

The group hit the hill the first time up - and after the descent, I looked back and noticed we had a solid break of 9 - including 6 HB girls. We had destroyed the field on the first climb! The second hill came - and what I remembered in my head as being the bigger of the two climbs was actually much smaller! I knew right then and there that it was on and game time. I started telling myself, "you can win this. You will win this. You are strong, focused and determined." The miles started cruising by. We attacked those poor girls that were with us relentlessly. Wheeler the incredible solo-break artist had already launched at this point - so we set up for the small field sprint. By a selfless lead out from Kathi and Beth - the win was perfectly timed and only Morgan tried for contention. I wanted to pull over and cry out of excitement. I couldn't believe how awesome that feeling is - partly of winning but mainly out of hitting a major milestone in my cycling ability. Pushing through pain caves, attacking them when they try to tell your body to stop - pushing your body to the limit and celebrating that success. This probably only makes sense if you've experienced it yourself. But for me it's something I strive for every time I'm on the bike. And why not go for it? You've got nothing to lose and EVERYTHING to gain.

I love this sport.

On Wednesday of this week, Tela, Mary and I headed to the track for the first time this season. Luckily the weather was perfect - with 67 degrees and sunshine. Never mind the hardcore head wind on the home straight. We were just happy to be out and about and rolling around together.

Our warm up started off a little higher paced than we should have started. 30 laps with slight increases near the 10 to go mark so did not happen. By 14 to go, Mary admitted to struggling and then with 5 to go all hell broke loose. Suddenly we were out of rotation with a half pull thrown into the mix and next thing I know, we detonate our order. We still got a good warm up in - but it just goes to show that pacing is everything and when you're rusty chances are you're going to go out too hard.

We each had separate goals for the day - so after some warm up jumps, which demonstrated I have been on the road bike way too much, I swapped gears into a 98". The mission: 5 x 4 laps flying at 95% VO2 max with 3 minutes of recovery. Read: brutally hard, if not impossible. Yet with a massive head wind and a massive gear - I some how pulled it off. My legs felt like they were going to explode - and my lungs did explode. I visited the tunnel of pain with each effort. Mary and Tela both screamed loudly for me but I couldn't hear them. My goal this season? Lengthen the amount of time I can handle in the pain cave, ignoring all warning signs. And so far it's working.

Afterward I rode home from the park along the north end - bumping into Annette along the way. We chatted about this and that - I was really thankful for the company. It's nice to take your mind off the task at hand vs the 1.5 more hours in the saddle. Oh the life of a bike racer. Glamorous, isn't it?

Headgear sizing:

Small - up to 21 1/2"
Medium - 21 1/2 - 22 1/4"
Large - 22 1/4 - 23"
Xlarge - 23" and up.

" DON'T DO IT FOR MONEY. Do it for the competition. There is no money in it, really, a credit card payment now and then." - Yvonne Reis

Last Monday wrecked me. Not so much the following day but the day after that, and the day after that and the day after that. My cycling training was seriously compromised and every muscle was in serious shock mode from movements my body hasn't done in nearly a decade. The come back kid felt like the come back wuss. And despite my best intentions to get to another gym to see if I could find the right training environment - it so did not happen.

But what did find out after a couple of restless nights and foot cramps was that I really have set myself up for success in cycling. The coaching is phenomenal, my training partners are incredible, the support network, teammates, nutrition - all of it points in the right direction of having amazing success on two wheels. And while I still feel passionate about boxing and always will, I'm putting my eggs in the basket I've been weaving the past six years.

For now I'm going to keep focusing my energy on revolutions and self inflicted pain caves versus head bashing concussions. I do have a plan to get back in the sport a little more though since I still love it very much... but for now I'm working on those hill repeats with a fresh perspective and renewed spirit because I am so fortunate to pursue a sport I love and have the ability and time to do it.

Funny how life throws in its little distractions from time to time.

My mantra for today: World Cups. WORLD CUPS. WORLD CUPS!!!

Marymoor Velodrome Auction - Giving Back

You may or may not know this - but I am seriously involved in my sport. About a year into track racing, a friend of mine suggested I apply for a board position on the MVA and I honored to have the opportunity to give back some of my time and energy to something I highly valued. Over the past 5 years, I have dedicated time and energy by volunteering for the MVA and have watched it grow in numerous ways.

Each year, at about this time, the board members pound the pavement, pick up the phone, and start sending emails to solicit donations for our annual auction. We also try to get friends and family to attend the auction. The proceeds are the primarily funds for the programs we hold from April through September. Junior and adult classes, racing on Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays as well as junior development and administration fees are all reliant on the funds we collect this upcoming April 3, 2010.

The MVA is a non-profit and volunteer run organization. We are only as good as the people who put their time and energy into it. We have succeeded so far thanks to the hard work of several individuals but we still need your help.

What you can do: Attend the upcoming MVA auction April 3, 2010 held at the Mercer Island Community Center at 5:30 pm. Please register here.

You can also donate items for the silent or live auction, some of which is tax-deductible. Some items donated include:
- a Blue TR250 Track Bike
- a Giant Jr Animator from Bothell Ski & Bike
- Wine Tasting at Eleven Winery
- Two Night's Stay at Terry Buchanan's Winthrop Cabin
- an Amazing basket of kitchen goodies from Chef'n
- Dave Mann's cookies
- Thunderpass from Woodland Park Zoo
- A $280 Fun Pack Rental Package from REI in Redmond
- Breakfast or Lunch for two at the Maltby Cafe
- Beautiful fused glass artwork by Kristin Simpson
- A gift basket from Babeland, and lots more!

Got something you'd like to contribute? Please let me know!

We have a fantastic caterer on tap that will be serving a Mediterranean Feast that will tickle your taste buds.

And to top it all off World Champion and Olympian Jennie Reed will be this year's guest speaker. The funds collected from this year's auction are earmarked for woman's development with a series of Sunday afternoon clinics led by high level instructors.

What are you waiting for? Register today!

Wwwwwaaaaatter

I woke up in the middle of the night with one thing on my mind... wwwwwwwaaaaaaattter.

As I stretched in bed my muscles ached in protest. My abs, biceps, shoulders, calves and even my feet feel like they are severely dehydrated and threatened to cramp at any moment. The clock read 3 am. I feel back asleep, this time dreaming of big dogs chasing cats in a overly-banked velodrome.

5:30 am - stretched and still felt the cramp feeling. At this point I'm fully admitting that Monday night workout put me in a hole. A good hole though - a hole I needed to go in.

And as I said before - I'm continuing with my daily training on the bike. But let's be honest. Yesterday was rough. The day wore on and those 5 sets of early morning 3 minute in Lactic Threshold with 2 minutes of VO2 max with Jennie there to hold me 100% accountable were some of the highest quality intervals I've done yet.

"Up, up, up! You gotta earn that spot on the world cup team. It's not going to come easy for anyone."

I ripped my own legs off and got sucked into the dark tunnel of narrow focus that only comes when you hit that VO2 level. You shut out what's around you, focusing on the task at hand and try to continue ignoring your brain that's telling you to STOP! This hurts! This time I'm armed with visions of being at the end of a round, getting the final punches in before the bell, keeping the hands up and punches flying when all you want to do is collapse in a heap.

If you straight up compare the two sports - cycling and boxing - they are both a test of your ability to perform under pain. How your body and brain deal with a lack of oxygen and lactic acid. Yet the biggest difference? In boxing you're getting blows to the head and in that regard cycling is much easier.

Later in the day I meet up with Jennie at the gym. I've been on the same weight routine since late January and she wanted to check in to see how my form is and what kind of adaptations she can do to my next round of punishment. I enjoy the gym, don't get me wrong. I like doing Olympic lifts and squats, overhead hangs and single leg dead lifts. Even Bulgarian squats. I can't believe I just admitted that. For the most part I find out I've been doing them right. But I also discover slight subtle differences in form that make heaving up 80 pounds above my head in one swoop much, much easier. Technique is everything.

What normally takes me an hour, we complete in two. Jennie does the workout with me and by the core exercises at the end we're both moaning like a couple of old ladies complaining about arthritis. It's comical and I notice a couple of people in the stretching room trying not to laugh at us but still sneaking a smirk.

I spend the rest of the night sorting through the office and pictures and cd after cd filled with photos from friends and family. I am so thankful to have a digital memory of Ryan - a series of climbing photos taken by Cam shows each move of a boulder problem in Leavenworth. Ryan's focus and dedication to sport is admirable and it makes me miss him even more. He's where I get my inspiration and ability to push myself athletically. Hard work, dedication, focus and passion - everyone should surround themselves with people they admire and look up to. If I want to do this boxing thing then I need to find a real life hero.

I miss my monkey.


In so many ways.

He brought the best out of me.

First leap

Google maps said it would only take 15 minutes max to get to Cappy's gym on Capital Hill. I gave myself 45 minutes to get there. Because I arrived so early, I sat and nervously waited it out in the car, reading through my Chinook book. (So Seattle, I know.) Jennie called - and said "is that what I give you rest days for? So you can box?" We chuckled about it, both knowing that this is something I want to do. And she supports looking into it - but still has every right to give me a little crap.

At 7:20 I get out of the car and head over. Cappy instantly recognizes me though he can't place where. Then the long story comes out... used to box 10 years ago, (clobbered your girls), am interested in getting back into it (to clobber more girls) - came to check out what your gym has to offer. In the meantime the participants in the boxing conditioning workout are punching heavy bags, jumping rope, slapping focus mitts - with beads of sweat hitting the floor in regular intervals.

He tells me where the changing room is and I proceed to wrap my hands. I'm a little out of practice and as the night wears on and I'm constantly fumbling with them. The changing room/bathroom/weigh in area with a big huge laundry sink room has pictures of various fighters in frames and the occasional autograph.

I put on my white bandana to keep my annoying bangs out of my face and start jumping rope. I quickly learn my footwork is slow and clumsy and my hand eye coordination is not what it used to be. But my cardio pays no mention and I find my steady pace starts to outlast some of the participants. Cappy bases the initial warm up off of the bell which beeps every 3 minutes, rest for 1 minute and then back on. We do a medicine ball work - holding the ball overhead while shimmying across the length of the room, then with it out in front and then back to overhead. At this point I start to notice who's fit and who's not. I may not have the prettiest footwork but I my engine is larger than most.

On the mats we go - working on our core. First we bounce the medicine ball off our abs with your legs raised. I get into a rhythm, breathing out of my mouth in short bursts and notice everyone else is quiet - taking those hits in eerie silence. Then we put the ball between our knees and start crunching for three minutes. And eventually we put the ball between our feet and do leg raises for an additional three minutes. My abs are screaming - but I notice not many people are completing the effort. They give up when it starts getting hard. My abs are screaming at me but I know that the pain is a good thing and this will get me stronger. Then last but not least, we sit up, with our legs raised above the ground about 5 inches and move the ball from side to side. I went until failure and then went again.

Next on tap - circuit drills. You do each station for 3 minutes before proceeding to the next. Cappy pairs me up with Leah - a tough looking girl with nice Everlast high tops and tattoos. I'm not really intimidated. We start with triceps - dipping down from a bench. My weakling t-rex arms allow me to only complete about 5 before they start flailing about. I laugh at how silly I must look. Next we go into the ring and one person throws a medicine ball at the other person as they deflect it with a large focus mitt. Not sure what the purpose of that drill is - but hefting a 12 lb. ball around for 3 minutes definitely gains strength. We continue onto the speed bags, which is where my partner excels. She starts slow, and I think, "I'm doing good!" but then as she speeds up and has that bag rocking I feel like a complete uncoordinated doofus. Unfortunately we didn't have speed bags when I was training back in the day - so my skill level is way down.

But when it's time to hit the heavy bag - my instinct comes back. And I'm rocking and rolling with an 80 pound bag like it did me wrong. It felt good to throw punches in rapid succession. And my pink gloves enjoyed being put back to work after the 9 year hiatus they've had in my old bag. We do two rounds with the heavy bags - and I start really getting into a rhythm. Bobbing and weaving around, working on my fancy feet, beating the crap out of that bag. I barely notice if anyone is watching. This is what I came here to do. To feel this intensity.

And last but not least in the circuit - we have to hang from a bar and do hamstring curls. I fire off a ton, with no problem except my hands keep slipping down as well as my hand wraps. My partner completes about 5 before she has to take a break to stretch them out.

At this point I'm good and sweaty. My face is red and I'm getting back into the groove. An hour has flown by and we gear up to start sparring. I reach into my duffel bag and pull out my mouth guard, sparing gloves and pelvis protector. It's a funny contraption - the pelvis protector and looks like I put underwear on over my shorts. But it protects you from any pelvis damage and clearly defines what is below the belt.

No one else puts one on.

Cappy tells me - we only use those in competition. Why? I ask. Because that's just how we do things here. Do you mind if I wear it? (I try not to sound sarcastic.) No - by all means. I'm sure some of those people thought, what's up with this girl? I think the same of them. Why not protect yourself?

Unfortunately I don't have any head gear. It rotted in my bag from too much sweat and after 10 years decided to just throw it away. I have to borrow one from the wall - and find one that doesn't really fit and every time it gets knocked around my hair starts falling in my face. That and it has blood all over it. Gross.

We start sparing - and I'm thrown in the mix with "Queen" - a multi-national champion who has her eyes on higher level. She's in a much lighter weight class and about 6 inches shorter than I am. She had been giving me the eye all night - and now it was time to face why I chewed off every single fingernail I had in the car about an hour ago.

I survive. Though I land about 1 punch to her 10. She's fast and furious. She laughs at how my head gear moves around and I in turn laugh at myself. I'm thrown into a round robin, meaning I switch sparing partners every 30 seconds for three minutes. We progress from only throwing jabs, to jab, straight, hooks - to only straights (jabs and cross) to all. When I partner back up with Leah I land a couple on her chin to which she responds, aim for my forehead. She's used to regular so when I switch it up to South paw I land more blows then she knows what to do with. It frustrates her and I start landing more. That fighter in me is still there and I'm amazed at how quickly it came back out. I want more time with Queen - but know I risk breaking my nose if I do. I did hear it crunch a little - but cartilage does that.

The end of the night came quickly. I shadow box as a cool down and the movements come back to me. I feel good. Really good. And I've completely soaked my clothes with sweat. Afterward I stick around to chat with Cappy and see what he thinks. "You're rusty, that's to be expected. What do you want to do?" Compete. I answer, without hesitation. Yet I'm not convinced if this gym is where I want to train full time. As a "A" team member the workouts are 4 times a week, with 3 "road work" sessions. A couple of the ladies were encouraging and said they'd love to see me back in the gym.... yet I'm not sure if that was the right fit.

Timing is everything. I got an email this morning from another gym out of Tukwila that offered a free week to check it out. I might as well give that one a try.

This morning's 8 am hill interval session with Jennie came bright and early. Thank goodness I slept like a baby last night - dreaming of picking blueberries and eating them until I couldn't anymore. And we did the efforts before the reality of my sore abs and arms could hit me... but now that I sit in my office a couple of hours later, I'm having a hard time keeping them up to my keyboard.

Yeah, time for bed. I'm pooped. I've been sitting here all night trying to come up with some sort of blog post about the busy weekend but now that it's bedtime - I'm going to bed! More to come tomorrow...

A mini distraction

This morning after fussing for a good part of an hour on my rear cassette, I decided to break out the old USA Boxing bag out of my gear closet and take a look at what's inside. Opening it up revealed a strong musty smell of leather and sweat. In the very bottom I found my old mouth pieces and they amazingly still fit - even after 10 years. I put my old hand wraps in the wash along with my turtle shell sports bra and an old tank top jersey. And there, in the bottom of the bag were some old "Excellence" ribbons and paperwork from the 2001 World Championships.

I got asked today - so do you really have what it takes? Has anyone ever identified that natural born champion in you? And my response - was yes. But it doesn't matter what they think. It's what I put my mind to that matters. You are the master of your own destiny.

That and a champion is made a day at a time.

I still have 6 x 3 min VO2 intervals on the plate today with 3.5 hours on the bike. I'm not losing my focus on my daily training. But it does give me a little more want and desire to make each effort as hard as possible. To push to new levels. To feel my heart rate beating in my chest, legs screaming from lactic acid - ignoring my brain that's telling me to stop, that it hurts. Pushing beyond that pain threshold is the name of the game - and often is where the gains are made.

And who knows - maybe I'll head down to Tacoma today and get punched in the head. Ha!

Just doing a little review...

5. Blocking - We do not do this. I repeat: we do not do this. Blocking is cheap, weak, and we don‟t condone it. Let people race and expect that they‟ll let you race. You can certainly sit on a chase, but don‟t actively get into an echelon to disrupt a chase. When a rider drops back from a pull, let them back in. If someone wants in the line to pull, let them in. Clogging up the road or corners just isn‟t racing. It is instead plain bad form. Do not even let the fact that other teams employ it justify its use to you; two wrongs don‟t make a right.

From the man himself:

We have several female boxers training in our gym, with the hopes that they would try for the 2012 Olympic Games. The only weight that will be contested for the females are 108lbs. - 132lbs. - 165lbs. To acomidate the female weight classes the mens weights were cut from 11 to 10 weight classes. We work out Monday thru Thursday at 5:30 PM - the cost is $60 plus $15 for a background check. This year the district tournament has already been held but female boxers can enter straight into the nationals if they pay their own way as far as airfare, room and board.



Tom L. Mustin

I'm happy to report that the first races of the season went very, very well. So well in fact that I'm more excited than ever about the hard work, training, and nutritional focus I've been taking is paying off huge dividends. It is so nice to know that you're on the right track and headed for success.

So what to do about this whole boxing thing?

Yesterday I spent quite a bit of time looking into what I could find on the web. Basically I would have to go from a bottom heavy cyclist (though I can still do 20 push ups no problem and maybe 3 pull ups) - to a lean mean fighting machine. I would have to bulk up on my upper body and gain about 10 pounds in shoulder, back and neck muscles. I would start working on agility and footwork like a mad woman. I could hone this in a year's time - and gain back probably 90% of the capacity I used to have. The next year would be refinement and peaking to world class level.

In the meantime I would have to get high caliber fights. We're talking taking the ring with Russian Olga's and woman who's pictures are intimidating. I'd have to be in peak form and ready to throw down this September for the World Championships hosted in Barbados. Which means that I'd also have to win Nationals in August in the US. But there are only 3,000 registered female boxers in the US. And maybe a dozen or so that are seriously competitive in my weight class.

It would also mean hitting the gym in Tacoma and putting some serious hours in. Finding good sparing partners, working on hand/eye speed, getting the shit kicked out of me and then picking myself up, dusting myself off and staring right back into the eye of the tiger to do it again. I'd be conditioned to bells, 2 minute rounds, risk bloody and broken noses, knock outs and low blows. My head would be filled with the slap of the heavy bag, the rhythm of speed bags, the loud exhalations, the tap of jump ropes, and the occasional heavy thump of someone getting knocked down in the ring.

And what would I be sacrificing? Six years of dedication to the bike. And now with my performance levels rocketing to new levels? Gee, the answer seems obvious to me. But it's still worth entertaining the notion and checking it out.

I'm waiting for a call back from Tom Mustin out of Tacoma. He was the head boxing coach for the 2000 Olympic games for Team USA. Serious.

One Way....

This morning was a "ride and smell the roses" recovery kind of day. And on my return from Seward park, what did I spy? A sign near the Museum of Natural History in Montlake that was worth flipping a u turn and taking a photo of.

Whoa, seriously?!?

Remember how I said something really big was going to happen soon? That I could feel the energy building?

Well my intuition was spot on.

This weekend a dear friend Anju came and visited me in the morning hours before heading down to Mason Lake. We were boxing buddies back in the day. She and her husband Bill owned 10th Ave Gym on Capital Hill and I put many hours of blood, sweat and tears into their gym. She now has three beautiful girls - the youngest of which I got to hold in my arms.

When they had to close up shop and move to Austin for work nearly 8 years ago, I decided that boxing had probably run its course. I had been competing for the past 4 years and since I thought boxing would never be included in the Olympics, decided that maybe it was time to lay down my gloves. They sit in the basement, collecting dust.

Boxing was an amazing experience. Not only was I in the shape of my life - but I was able to participate in the first woman's world championship held in Scranton, PA in 2001. Talk about an amazing experience - and to be part of history? Unreal.

Thankfully I found reprieve for my competitive spirit in cycling within the next year. It filled my need to compete and for kicking my own butt. It was challenging but I immediately knew I could do well in it. (Thanks to finding amazing coaching and mentors along the way!)

And when R. Miller asked me to show him a few moves in his home on the light weight heavy bag he put up - I rattled off combos into the bag without missing a beat. Oh boxing, my first true competitive love. Muscle memory is scary, really.

Here it is 10 years later and this morning, of all morning's Anju makes a brief mention that boxing is in the 2012 Olympics. WHAT! HOLD THE PHONE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some quick calculations were run - you have to be under 35. Check. It's only amateur - no problem, never went pro. You have two years. Whoa. Seriously? Am I actually considering getting back into it? Something that made my family squirm? Something that made complete strangers give Ryan a dirty eye whenever they saw my black eyes? Something that felt so good to my being and core that I absolutely LOVED it?

Tomorrow I'm looking into what's available in the local area for training. Why not? It's worth exploring at least. My mom is probably going to shit herself. I'm shitting myself.

For those left wondering if I did in fact puke down in LA, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but it didn't happen. Try as I did to get to that point - even with the consumption of a homemade chocolate chip cookie right before a full max effort (thanks Liz!) - I didn't do it. But I did come close. And in talking yesterday with Izette and another Liz about my quest for turning myself inside out, it got me really thinking.

How often do you push yourself? Have you ever reached the point in some athletic or mental endeavor that you had an out of body experience? Suddenly you found yourself detached from your physical presence and in essence, floating above it and observing it with an open mind?

This is something I strive for. Something I dig deep for every time I have a hard effort on the bike. To be able to push beyond those boundaries in search of feeling disconnected from the societal pressures that weigh you down, the burdens of every day life, the nagging chores, screaming babies, and hunger pangs. I am truly blessed to be able to tap into this energy and can do it regularly. It is so fulfilling to be able to follow your passion and pursue it with such balance and determination.

If you were able to feel that nirvana - if only for a brief period, but truly felt it - what's keeping you from following it? Did you feel it as a kid when you were in art class? Did you feel it when you read a book? Were you in the mountains? On a beach? Sitting in front a computer? Where ever that place may be - that feeling you experienced, why not continue the quest to feel that way all the time?

Why are we locked down to be satisfied with mediocrity?

I'm not. I'm ready. I strive for adventure, to travel unknown paths. It brings me peace knowing that if it were to all end today I have lived each amazing day in the present. Some may call it luck - but I call it destiny.


Speaking of out of body experience - Fat Freddy's Drop the coolest dub reggae band on the planet is playing in Seattle soon....

Do you ever have the feeling that something larger than life is calling your name? It's beckoning you to be more than just a number, more than a consumer, more than a bike racer?

Something's brewing, I can feel its energy.

Ryan had a cousin named Dixon. Dixon had muscular dystrophy that ate away his muscles and reduced him to a fraction of the man he should have been. Doctors said Dixon would maybe live to 16. But through sheer will power and a positive attitude he lived till 26.

Ryan loved Dixon and despite his struggles sent letters back and forth to California.
I came across some old photos tonight. Ones of Ryan's uncle Paul, his family and Dixon in them. And there's Ryan. Prouder than anyone of his cousin. You can just tell how much he loved him. I bet they're hanging out right now.

These dudes are crazy. But it sure is pretty there!

Changes

My house is in utter chaos. There is stuff every where. I'm seeing things that I haven't touched in quite some time and it's making my eyes itch.

There are new blips on the horizon. Signs of change. Signs of growth, soon to be triumph and the ups and downs. But for the first time in a long time I feel like I'm getting my grove back.

It's taken some time to get used to my own messes. To be comfortable with the uncomfortable. But as my own dirty dishes stack up in the sink, I'm starting to get into a routine. The power is coming back.

The walls of this house remain, as they always have. But the ghosts that have lived in the basement, tucked away for a rainy day, are being stirred up and summoned to move on. I'm getting a housemate and he's going to live in Ryan's old office.

Down the pictures have come. The dust kitties scattering in protest, trying to hide from my persistent vacuum. The piles are being dealt with. The stacks of computer programing books are being taken off the book shelves - ready to go to a new owner. My own books, the ones that survived the basement flood several years ago are being moved back upstairs - into the second bedroom that is being converted into the new office.

I was ready for this change and welcome it.

Ah what a week. We did it all. From sunshine rides to stormy, tsunami warning rides with sheets of rain soaking us to the bone and sandy beach with grit in our teeth rides. A perfect way to end the week in sunny California. Our bags and bikes are packed, our digital cameras filled with moments of hilarity and our ambitions and dedication renewed after a solid week of training.

(Mary's response just now - 9 o'clock. YES! I've gotten accustomed to this lifestyle and I don't want to change it when I get home...)

An evening spent laughing with Gary and Anita at a local Mexican resturant in Hermosa Beach was the perfect way to end the trip.

The most awkward dinner - EVER.

Let's see if I can set this up right....

Earlier this week, Sunday to be exact, Tela, Mary and I rode over to Gary and Anita's (Ryan's dad and step mom's house) to borrow their VW Passat since they were going to be out of town for the week. We were super stoked to have a car since we're staying in a not so nice part of town - so thanks Pops and Anita! But the unfortunate part - the key was hidden inside a bird cage that when opened, the bottom fell out and shattered the blue bird vigil placed inside for Big Bird (Gary and Anita's beloved cockateal who up until they discovered she laid eggs thought it was a boy).

It broke into three pieces and I remember looking at Tela and Mary in nervous laughter and thought maybe we could find a replacement this week. Ha ha. Are you kidding me? I couldn't believe my luck. But being the aunt of Coleman the three layer cake tipper, well I guess I should have seen it coming.

The week has been filled with several failed attempts to find a replacement bird. Oh and we've been working out of course. Double days every day with the exception of Wednesday has added up to three tired chicas by the end of today. Our hunt in TJ Max was about as close as we came to finding anything.

Flash forward to today, an early morning after a late night of comedy thanks to Adam's brother performing in Hollywood - and several hard hard efforts of max capacity. Unfortunately I can't say that I puked on this trip but today was the closest I got. The conditions were perfect - thin saliva, light headedness, nausea - but alas, I kept the urps to myself.

Our recovery ride was probably the hardest ride I've done in a while. And judging by Mary's quiet sufferage by pedaling behind Tela, Liz and I - she was cooked too.

But the highlight of the night? A dinner at Tela's friend and his parents in Cypress. Luckily we had eaten a couple bites before heading out so we wouldn't seem like hoarders. Turns out his parents are pretty religious. We're talking TV turned onto the religious channel pumping out the beats religious. We're talking not one, not two but three prayers before dinner religious. And we're talking serious restraint by us three girls to keep swearing to a minimum since we've been baching it all week (cause we're not so religious). But in reality - there was no reason to worry about that because about 5 minutes after eating the homemade tortilla soup - Mary and I became sitting zombies while Tela had to carry on the whole conversation. All I remember? Homemade biscuits. And Tela trying so hard to make a conversation by pulling their teeth out of their heads. At one point the ceramic bird story came up - a perfect opportunity for me to add to the conversation. But all I could utter?

Superglue.

After a quick exit, stage left - almost the minute we walked out of their door, we uproared in laughter, waking up all of their neighbors by recalling how awkward that had been. Seriously. It could have been on some Arrested Development show or something.

I guess you should have been there. But for most of the dinner Mary and I weren't.

Close calls and reminders

After yesterday's hammer session at the track (Mary and I did 4 one lap flying efforts with 3 laps at tempo pace at the rail between) x 3 with 20 minutes rest between in a MAMOTH gear, we were more than happy to be out on the road bikes this morning paralleling the Pacific Ocean. Up and up we climbed, along Palos Verde Boulevard with Liz, Mary, Tela and myself. The views were great (despite noticing the smog hanging off the coast line that was a dark snot color) - even Catalina island was in view. Little did we know we'd be doing some character building miles - with tears of struggle, anguish and eventual triumph.

We cruised up a massive hill with t-pain driving the train, downshifting toward the top and sending my heart rate into the red zone. A quick stop at the top, and down we quickly descended through a canopy of trees and light traffic and light rain splattering the roadway. Our next left hand turn, half way down the hill provided the highlight/lowlight of the ride.

We noticed a bright neon green sign titled "Walking School Bus" and as Tela went to point it out in a what the? she didn't realize Liz was next to her and swerved, over corrected and went down in the lane of traffic, just as a red truck almost struck her. Too close of a call for comfort, we pulled over and sat down in a little pow wow. Some woman in a Lexus sedan and sweater dress with caked on makeup stopped to make sure we were okay. She came over to Tela asked if she could say a little prayer and then proceeded to bless her in this time of crisis. Mary, Liz and I stood around completely baffeled by the series of events we just witnessed. Luckily I had enough sense to whip out the camera and get the Jesus lady on film. Close call! And glad we all walked easily away from that one. It's not every day you can say you've been blessed and prayed about.

Now we rest, chilling in our hotel getting for some more butt kicking efforts tomorrow. My legs are still throbbing but better to throb now then in competition, right?

A little clarification

So since most of the world doesn't understand the nuances of track cycling lingo, here's a basic description of what I did yesterday on the boards. (aka track. I call them boards because the track is composed of Siberan White Tiger wood. All 250m with 47 degree banking.)

We shipped our track bikes down earlier (they're the kind without brakes) and flew down with our road bikes on the airplane. Checking in at the airport is kind of a pain if you're flying with bikes because they are put in an oversized box and you can bet you'll be charged any where from $50-175 extra each way for such a luxury. (Shipping them costs anywhere from $35 to $175 depending on who you use to ship, declared value, how they measure the box, etc.) Oh and you can count on TSA searching your bike box for explosives and such due to the metal or carbon tubing. You can only hope they put the box back in it's original condition so things don't shift around - but that's the risk you take.

Anyway - we rode to the gym from our hotel yesterday morning to meet Adam at 8:30 for bike assemblege and getting things set up for the day's workout. Everything arrived in good shape - with the exception of Tela's box. Her wheel hubs were sticking out of the box. But after riding on it she discovered it was all good.

On tap for today's workout was a warmup with the Canadian National team (who has been in town since January prepping for the upcoming March world cup). 50 laps with a steady increase in tempo in a smaller gear. Since you only have one gear option, the warmup is used in a smaller gear (50x16, which is roughly an 84") to open up the legs and get your aerobic and central nervous system ready for the specialized efforts later. Since most of the work on the track is done with near 100% capacity, a good warm up is essential to prevent injury.

After those 50 laps, you go back into the infield and change your gears into what ever is prescribed next on your schedule. Tela's gears are usually a lot smaller than mine since she's a sprinter - she's more reliant on fast twitch muscle fiber to generate a high rpm. You need to be able to get up to speed quickly and then hold it for her efforts. Since I'm more of an endurance racer, I have larger gears to generate the most power over a longer period.

Anyway, my goal for this session is to work on my standing starts for pacing in the pursuit. Basically I'm going from a stopped position, held up by a hydraulic starting gate that releases when the clock counts down from 10 seconds to 0. Jump the gate by going to early and you can scrub a good 2 seconds off of your time. Go too late and you have zero momentum to start. It's all about finesse.

Then the effort itself has to be within your ability - especially if you're doing more than one lap. Since the pursuit is 3000m (or 12 laps on this track), pacing is everything. At nationals in October I went out of the gate HOT - too hot. My start was equivalent to Sarah Hammer's 3:30 pace. And guess what? I'm not Sarah Hammer. Unfortunately at this time I can't hold that pace. Such a strong start builds up lactic acid in the legs quickly and you start slowing down. So although I had started with a blistering pace, I physically couldn't hold it. To deal with this lack of fitness, I'm starting my laps slower so I can finish stronger in the end, verses the other way around.

I had 2 sets of 3 standing start one laps in a 94" gear (53x15). Hopefully that makes a little more sense now. My goal? Do a 24.7 second starting lap. Nothing faster. But for some reason when that gate releases and I go, I can't dial it back. I'm putting in a 22.4 second starting lap. I have to tone it down or else I will detonate later in the effort. After several attempts to do so - the only thing that happened was my time kept getting faster. So I have to work on slowing down.

The good news though? I have it within me to do that kind of start. Now it's just a matter of building that fitness to hold it. That's why those stinking hill repeats up Hollywood hill in the wee hours of the morning and despite the rain are so important. The ability to hold high wattage (power) is crucial to the pursuit.

Either you're more confused than ever or that helps a little bit. Bottom line? I have to slow down to go faster. :)

And today's workout, just to confuse you, is a sprinter workout. Good times! Wish me luck as I try to spin my own legs off!

There are signs on the road.

And it is up to you to heed them or not. They are recommended speeds, warnings of upcoming curves and steep descents. Bumps, children, school zones and deer crossings. All things that could potentially slow you down or collide with you. Do you slow down? Do you pay attention or do you sail through them without thought or worry about what could happen?

The signs serve as a perfect analogy for life. Though instead of being encased in a metal box of a car, I prefer my bicycle. Even still though, those warnings are still warranted and you can bet I pay careful attention when they are passed.

You're probably going to be hearing a lot more from me on this blog in the coming weeks. Call it a premonition of sorts. Writing is such an amazing outlet for me - always there no matter what's going on in my life. I can easily pick myself back up by letting it out in words and paragraphs; it provides a therapy of sort. It's an old friend I can always check in with that doesn't judge and is always there.

I've decided that there should be a new sign - one that warns people of upcoming puke. Yep, you read that right. Puke. And gross as that sounds - I convinced myself that I want to push myself harder than ever. I want to find out my true limits. And once I've reached them, finally, I'll have worked so hard that my body revolts. I know, it sounds silly. Who would rightfully put their body through such a thing? But I want to push pass the mental limitations, the warning signs that your brain sends to your body to shut down before you complete your goal. As crazy as it sounds - I want to get there. I want to be able to push myself to new levels. And I figure puking is a good way to start.

This next week should provide the perfect opportunity. I'll let you know how it goes.

(And as I mentioned this to Ai and Anna last night in our pondering of why we don't push ourselves that much anymore - answers of I'm too lazy, I did it once when I was younger and I hate the taste, I'll do anything NOT to puke. And my response? It's because we'd have to clean it up now ourselves, isn't it?)

...breaking news.....

This just in -

Tela Crane, Mary McMeen and Jennifer Triplett are taking the concrete jungle and land of a million highways by storm starting Sunday. For the next week the trio will descend upon Los Angeles leaving no road unturned. Their plan? An assault on the banked track in Carson, California (not to be confused with its neighboring city Compton).

It's time. Time to test the winter mileage and fitness gained. Time to test their mental strength in sprints, pursuits and going in circles ridiculously fast.

Three girls, six bikes and no car. Should make for an exciting week.

Studette

(Doug Mills of NY Times)

Lindsey Vonn is my hero. Watching her in the start house for the woman's downhill Olympic event, visibly shaking from the pressure and emotions filling her want, desire and need to win - was nerve racking. Watching as she flew down the hill, recovering from slight deviations from the perfect line, catching major air on the final jump and practically landing on one leg to save her injured shin, I couldn't help but hold my breath.

And then the sheer amazement and joy when she learns that she did in fact win gold. At first she appears in shock letting out small cries, the reality of the accomplishment yet to soak in. Yet as the cameras continue to follow her throughout the interviews - her emotions come to surface. The tearful happiness of overwhelming joy - and then falling into the safety net of her supportive and loving husband. I couldn't help but cry with her. Knowing how much time and energy and sacrifice she has done to get there. And to have the planets align?

If you didn't catch it last night - youtube will probably have it up and running soon. Lindsey earned every ounce of gold in that medal through and through. Congrats champ!

Last night I dreamed about rock climbing. I can't remember who my female companion was - but we decided to down climb a long section of rock to find our way back to the car. The down climbing was easy at first - with big chunks of gneiss rock and huge jugs to hold onto. It was similar rock to the down climb in the N. Cascades Liberty Bell group. But as we got to the crux of a massive over hanging, no feature section I froze. Stricken by panic of potentially falling to my demise I couldn't move down. Instead I decided to climb back up and find another route. And that's when the cat I'm sitting jumped on my face. Stinking cat!

Up early this morning for a drizzle ride to Hollywood hill times four. Cold wet fun!

Stoke Factor = TEN

As an athlete, we often push our bodies to the max. A steady amount of pain is welcomed - in the legs, lungs and sometimes heart. For me, each and every ride serves a purpose and goal - to get stronger and faster. And even though sometimes I fail, at least I know I gave something everything I had before that failure.

Cycling is an endurance sport in more ways than one. Physically there are long grueling hours put in on the saddle, reliant on pieces of man made machinery and reliant on the ultimate engine, but sometimes just as faulty, the body. Countless hours are spent training and fueling, taking time for recovery and creating a life balance so that each time I pull on my spandex, each time I clip into my pedals - I know why I'm doing it. It's a long road toward my ultimate goal - world cup competition in track - but I choose to do this. I am fortunate that the planets have aligned and I can spend the majority of my waking hours cycling. And for that I am forever thankful.

Mentally cycling is an endurance game as well. Day in day out, hours devoted to 90+ revolutions per minute - without the proper mental capacity you could easily fail on lack of motivation alone. It is often too easy to make excuses: it's raining outside, my legs hurt, my saddle gives me discomfort, I don't feel like it. But some how those things are quickly forgotten. A rest day comes and though I'm thankful for the time off the bike, I can't wait to get back to it to express 100% of my ability. I still feel the excitement as I did the first year I started racing. The giddiness of feeling the endorphin rush, the wind in my hair, the hum of my rear hub.

Even when the going gets tough - and today it did - I still find myself in love with this sport. It pushes me to the limit on hills and when I hit that limit I'm reminded of being a mere mortal. A mortal who is gravity challenged. I smile to myself because my pursuit isn't after hills, though mastery of everything I do is deep seeded within me. I smile because I know come track season I'm going to be able to push harder and faster than last year. I look at the top of the hill with one focus in mind - the finish line or pull in team pursuit, or lapping attempt in a points race.

Sometimes it's important to restate why you do what you do. What gets you stoked? Why do you do what you do?

Ode to Fenders

I missed you today, despite your finicky rubbing and home made duct tape buddy flap. I should have known to strap you on and deal with the constant reminder of your presence - for the rain is inevitable in Seattle.

I but a fool - thinking I would be sans rain on a training ride in February. Instead I was reminded of your virtues and sheer luxurious demeanor.

I got dumped on. Hard.

And it wasn't the grit that was shooting up my back like a rooster tail on a jet ski that did it. I wasn't yearning for the music to my ears of your whining noise, oh no. But as soon as it started raining so hard the pavement was soaked, I started to wonder why I deprived myself of such simple pleasures?

Oh fender. Today you were missed. Like a long lost lover on Valentines day. Like the garlic in my mashed potatoes. Like, like - the rear fender on my bike - nothing compares.

Warming concoctions were made to subsist without you. Their potent potions are so harsh that only rubbing alcohol can adequately remove it. More gear needed to replace such a simple item. Who decided that racing without fenders is cool anyways?

Don't worry fender - I will be back for you. And you can rub all you want before I throw you in the bushes.

Up and at 'em

I wake up early to feed Makiah and answer my ringing phone. It's 6 am and Sharon is calling to let me know she didn't sleep all night and doesn't think it would be a good idea to do hill intervals as a result.

Sleepily I tell her no problem. You can come next time.

I lift the dog food container down from on top of the fridge and give Makiah a 1/4 cup serving. She quickly gobbles it up as I put the kettle on and grind some coffee.

It's cold in my house. 58 degrees. I turn the heat up as I go put on some lycra as water comes to a boil. A quick glance outside reveals some fog but no rain. I put on wool socks, thermal tights and a long sleeve base layer. Makiah comes into my bedroom to let me know she's done chowing and is ready to go outside to do some business.

My reflection in the mirror shows puffy eyes from last night's late Soba noodle dinner and the scale shows some nice water retention. Great - an extra 5 pounds to lug up that hill this morning. I thought weight training was this afternoon?

After a quick bite to eat and gulping my morning java, I make some bottles with my favorite concoction - Hammer's perpetuem. I've been on a steady diet of drinking it every time I ride and am thankful for its extra calories every time. I give the bottles a quick thorough shake and head out the door.

I wish I lived closer to longer hills. So that my planned ride could start and finish from my house as it's much easier to come home and immediately strip off my spandex and hit the showers to warm up. But today requires 10 minute hills so I start up my diesel engine and drive north to Log Boom.

It's 7 am and the park gates are still locked. I park outside and quickly dress. The sun has come up just enough so I decide to venture without my front light and switch my blinky on. I can't tell if it's the cold air that makes my face ache or the sodium injected noodles from the night before.

The fog made the temps dip a little lower than usual. My normal warm up seems to take a little longer as my quads remind me that they were worked after this past weekend's thrashing. But after 30 minutes that sensation goes away as I quickly approach my first interval up Hollywood.

The first couple of inclines get my heart rate up to LT, and I push myself on the flatter sections by switching to harder gears to keep the watts up. A couple of road workers make a joke or two as I whiz by the first time and before I know it 10 minutes have passed and I'm flipping it near the top of the hill to bomb down and do it again. The descent is exactly 5 minutes so at the bottom I quickly start my next punishing interval.

As the pain settles into my legs, I keep telling myself in mantra like fashion, that it will go away. Just keep pushing. You're alive. Your legs are telling you to stop but you're stronger than that. Keep pushing. You're almost to the next section. Shift. Shift. Push. Push. Look up at the crest of the hill. Keep your breathing going. Inhale, exhale. Next hard section. One mailbox at a time. Focus. Push. It will go away... this is just temporary. Push! Done.

Repeat.

And on the third and final one, I passed all the little kids and their parents waiting for the school bus. It must have looked funny - seeing my pain face and hard breathing at such an early morning surrounded by fog. But I don't care. What I care about is enjoying the fast fun descent that someone recently broke their collarbone on during the last Rocket ride. I weave my way through the back roads of Woodinville and Maltby. The slightest inclines make my legs scream double time in protest - a confirmation that my morning workout was beneficial.

After I got home, I ate some split pea soup I slow cooked overnight and took a long hot shower. My digits were screaming in protest and I emptied the water tank just soaking in the warmth.

And now I sit, looking slightly forward to my weight training workout this afternoon. These double day training sessions are hard but I know that I will reap the benefits in a short time to come. The idea is to make the training harder than the racing...

Thinking of you Bubba.

Now that I think about what happened to me on the ride Saturday, I'm pretty sure what happened was the lack of eating proper foods after my two workouts the previous training day that did it. In the morning I had LT interval sessions and then a 4 hour recovery period (working) and back into the gym. After the initial workout I should have had a meal higher in the carb content and another higher carb meal after weight training. I did drink a recovery drink after both sessions - but timing the right meal within the magic hour of glycogen replacement is critical for long term endurance training.

Call me crazy but this shit is super fascinating.

And I think the "bonk" that I felt isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's my body reacting to after using up my glycogen levels and dipping into body fat reserves. Which is a good thing - but everybody handles this shift differently. I've found I have a low tolerance to this change - and mentally need to focus on pushing through the lows. This might be a crazy theory - but some people like the Kristin Armstrongs and cycling goddesses who seem like they are from out of this world - have an amazing natural ability to do this without having to focus on it. The rest of us struggle and, if we're lucky, adapt to this change.

bonkage

After about a month of carefully watching and monitoring what I take in for training and eat on the bike - yesterday I bonked. I'm pretty sure it was from a lack of carbohydrate the night before that did it... green salad with protein and no real carbs to speak of is not a good pre-race/train meal. After our first longer climb on the ride, my muscles started screaming in protest since they were eating themselves. And no amount of perpeteum or bars can reverse that damage once it's been inflicted. It's good to have reminders of why you're sticking to a plan and what will happen when you don't...

"If you time your nutrient intake well, you will store less fat in your fat cells, store more protein and carbohydrate in your muscle cells, and use more calories to supply immediate energy needs than you would if you ate precisely the same nutrients but timed their intake poorly." -Matt Fitzgerald.

And for those trying to cut weight but are doing it at the expense of your performance - this one's for you....

"On the other hand, when you habitually consume too little at certain times of the day, your metabolism will slow so that more of the calories you consume at other times are stored as body fat, and your body will break down muscle tissue to make up for the deficit of food energy."

Bottom line - it's all about timing.

It's a sign of the times, don't you think? When only 5 out of 40 blog subscriptions that I follow update on maybe a weekly basis. Myself included. I used to write a lot more - but then I lose interest or can't quite find the time to jot a few thoughts down. I've probably lost some readers along the way - but to be honest this blog was more for me than for them. At one point I did create a separate blog that was aimed at getting my gripes out - about the injustices in my silly little world. The drama - the situations I encountered that were baffling. But I couldn't post them here- because I do know some people read this and that would be just slanderous. And mean.

But back to the original point. Why don't people jot down a few words? What's your day really like? What makes you happy? 50 years from now when you look back at your entries - chances are a blog will give you more context then random sentence thrown out into space.

Maybe it's the social media revolution that has taken the world by storm? They'd rather tweet and proclaim a few sentences to the tweeting community. What is it about tweeting that makes it more attractive to follow than complete sentences? Is its celebrity appeal? Like you have a small glimpse into my world but not really kind of thing? I think it's like spying on someone. But yet they are putting it out there for the world to observe and judge. Kind of fascinating, don't you think?

Is it ultimately destroying writing? That's a thought.

Helpful struggles...

It's hard to describe the sensation that fills your legs after a solid 3 hour training ride, with a couple of big gear efforts thrown in the mix and followed by a nutritious pecan crusted salmon, Moroccan carrot salad and quinoa. Oh, and a beer. But it is a really really really good feeling and reward for punishing myself in the saddle today. For those unfamiliar - it's like a warm throb as the muscles start to relax and take what nutrients they want from the meal I just ate.

And despite earlier predictions, today's ride was completed without any rain. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

I needed that. Especially after last nights restless night of sleep from a really hard workout on Jennie's indoor pain machine. She's got some whirlie bird thing that doubles as a trainer but keep track of your wattage. Those LT efforts are done without any excuses now. "You're in the last few kilos of a race Jen. Just pedal away from them, pedal away." I think that proved to Tela and Jennie what my pain face really looks like. 10 minutes of straight up nausea.

And the discovery today that my 5 year old FSA carbon cranks are toast. They cracked where the pedal threads into the crank and will definitely break off any time now. I was about to give up when the sun came out... so on my old Kona Kona I went - out I-90 toward Bellevue, a loop toward Billy's house (Medina) and around the north end. To top it off? Some mountain bike commuter that was sitting pretty much straight upright was more than willing to give me a draft those last 6 miles toward the University. What a stud with his blue jacket flapping away in the breeze and slicks on his steed. You gotta love the Burke. :)

My kitchen smells like toasting granola right now - I can't wait for it to come out of the oven...

Happy Birthday to George and Ladybug and Katy! Three birthdays right in a row... and Tom's earlier last week. Let the birthday season begin!

My routine has been switched up a little thanks to a new block of training in the last few weeks before the mandatory intensity of racing sets in. I'm thankful for the break - now waking up to ride instead of heading to the gym. Road riding has taken my undivided attention and I thank the heavens and stars for supplying the best January of winter weather we've ever had on record. Those long hard miles in the saddle are that much sweeter without the constant drizzle and soaked digits - character building miles for sure - but not missed in the least.

I'm dialing in my nutrition - creating a happy balance between what my body needs and what it craves. I'm sticking to my game plan of timing my food just right, having the right snacks on hand and believe it or not - spending less time doing food prep now. How did that happen? But as my waist line shrinks, just slightly, and my lean muscle mass becomes leaner, I know that it's working.

Rest in peace Shannon. We will miss you cousin.

Happiness is coming back to the car after pounding out the miles before 10am with multiple lactic threshold efforts and chowing down on some Muscle Gruel oatmeal with hand picked blueberries from summer and Recoverite to wash it down with. Who would have thought that such simple pleasures could make me so incredibly happy?

Getting ready

Tomorrow morning at about the time you wake up, I'll be out doing hill repeats up Hollywood hill, feeling the heart pound in my chest and pump my legs to climb up that mother of a hill three times. Fun times!

Flip flop

A few weeks ago I picked up a copy of Precision Nutrition to dial in my food intake for maximum performance on and off the bike. With the "plan" comes a bunch of recipes for breakfast, lunch and dinner- oh and snacks too.

I have been following their guidelines for a little while and am so far pleased with the results. Mainly my fridge is just stoked full of whole some goodness foods - easy to prepare (for the most part) and quick to grab and fill yourself with delicious food at a moments hungry notice.

In the description of the recipes is a note stating how easy, moderate or hard they are. And I fancy myself somewhat of a good cook - able to try new things and am not afraid of any task. But for some reason, those "easy" recipes have been the biggest kitchen challenge I have ever encountered!

Example A - Protein powder snack bars. The label read "Peanut Butter Banana Protein Bar". Surely it can't be that hard? Listed in the ingredients is 8 scoops of vanilla protein whey powder. No problem! They sell that hippie shit at PCC just down the street from my house - in BULK! I come back home after picking up some essentials (which no longer contains any processed, white bread, crackers, heavily processed dairy items, etc) and get to it.

But there's one problem. No where in the book does it say how much a "scoop" is. Luckily PN has a website with all of that information in it. I look up how many grams are in a scoop and see 1 scoop/20g. I measure out 160 grams of protein. The protein pile resembles Mt. Fuji. I think to myself, gee, that looks like too much. But what do I know? I've never cooked with protein powder before. Hmmmm... interesting as I mixed the rest of the ingredients together it seems a little dry.... maybe I messed up my scoop per gram? Um, yeah. By 10 times! It was supposed to be 10 scoops per 20 grams. Nothing like a good additive to oatmeal.

Example 2 - the omelet flop. Ah, there's nothing like a good breakfast. Especially with smoked turkey, onions, spinach and bell peppers. But as I go to flip the eggs, I ended up flipping half of it on the FLOOR! As I pick it up I'm cursing the PN "easy" recipes and laughing at myself as I chew on some extra protein sauteed in my egg whites. Makiah was stoked about cleaning the floor, let me tell you.

Great way to start the morning - but it's sunny out so who cares?

Something's in the air....

Ah, a quiet Monday morning at my house. The sun is actually making an appearance by poking its head over the Cascades and doing its best to dry out what was one of the wetter weeks. Thank goodness my sump pump finally stopped running. Its cycle of turning on and then thumping off every 5 minutes was becoming far to common of a back ground noise. But hey, at least I know it's working!

This morning's ritual of checking my resting heart rate showed why I do it - it was a full 8 beats higher than normal. Turns out Jennie knows a thing or two about scheduling a rest day immediately after a hard block of training to a "T". :) And today's rest day should be all I need to re-set me for another solid week of training. The intensity and mileage keeps creeping up - as we slowly creep into the upcoming season. After a ton of road riding, yesterday's muddy mountain bike ride at St. Edwards park was a much welcomed shift. The hooping and hollering cured any negative thoughts and I rediscovered my LT. Thank goodness because it is much higher than what I thought it was. Now the trick is to get up to it during my intervals and keeping it there for 15 minutes! Can you say suffer fest?

On a side note - but equally related to cycling since everything in your life contributes to its balance - seems like everyone I talked to this past weekend about having a tough time both on and off the bike resonate with a, "ME TOO!" What's up with that? Lack of Vitamin D? Too much rain to the brain? Well here's to a new week of making the most of it...

Character Building

Remember how in my last post I bragged about not having to do intervals or be on my bike on Monday? Well it rained just as hard, if not harder, last night during my LT efforts and didn't let up my entire 3.5 hours on the bike. That's some solid character building, I tell you what!

Thankfully on my way out to my hill repeats, not far from Counterbalance, I discovered a puncture in the sidewall of my rear tire. I quickly flipped it and headed back to the shop where I had a guy change my dirty, nasty tire and make sure I was good to go on my adventure. He replaced it with such enthusiasm that I dedicated my first interval to him. He laughed as I exited the store through the sliding glass doors when we both noticed the down pour and sincerely said, good luck [nut case].

I can think of only a handful of occasions, and luckily this is the first one this year, where the water is coming down so hard that the bike lanes look like swelled river streams. Everything gets wet. Everything. And it's about 50 degrees out. And dark. But does that keep me indoors glued to the trainer for 2.5 hours? Heck no! I'd rather have brain surgery. My saving grace? Diving gloves, wool socks, shower pass jacket, ishuffle, bomber booties, Continental 4-Season Grand Prix, and Stella - my new favorite light.

I will say this though - when your gloves get that wet, they act like suction cups when you try to take them off to munch on a Hammer bar. Leave them off for too long and your hands will freeze, but slip them back on while you cram 8 bites into your mouth all at once and you'll be good to go.

I also noticed that I'm getting more fearless on descents. Not sure if that's attributed to not being able to see anything thanks to the pelting rain or the fact that it's pitch black out - but I can fly down hills without any tension in my upper body. And if you put your light on blink and cruise down a street with reflective bumps it serves as a strobe light... all you need is to add some disco music and you'll be having a great time!

Later as I sat on the couch after stripping my wet clothing off, jumping in the shower, eating a meal big enough for an army and trying to read up on nutrition, I couldn't help but let my eyes drift to sleep. Perhaps that ride took more out of me than I thought!

Pineapple Express

Those in the NW know what that means - rain. The type of rain that leaves you drenched in no time. It seeps into everything you do - drains over fill, sump pumps start churning, human swallowing puddles form, land slides. It's as though we're being punished for having a beautiful dry weekend. But the working world is thankful for the good weather during those few days off - and welcome the steady drizzle on Monday, often the craziest day of the week.

Monday's are rest days for me. It gives me some time to play catch up - clean my filthy bikes, get some wholesome food back in my fridge, wax my skis, etc. And of course relax. So rain all you want gray sky. But please clear up for tomorrow for I have intervals to complete that are hard enough without adverse weather. :)

And props to the brave souls who are riding in this drippy weather. I'll be joining your ranks tomorrow.

Mmmm.... blueberries!

I needed a good dose of summer's bounty after today's soggy ride. What started off as a light drizzle turned into a monsoon by the time I met my half way point and headed home. Although wet, I was warm. Though tomorrow is going to be twice as long and twice as wet. It left me wondering, can I put embrocation on my feet?

Mmmmm... back to blueberries. The best fruit on the planet. And something I can eat MASSIVE quantities of, especially when they're fresh. Good thing they're frozen otherwise they'd be gone!

Also on tap for tonight - prepping for tomorrow. I know, exciting Friday night. But I have big goals to meet and high motivation to get there. Do I a) clean my bike, b)eat more blueberries, c) read through my cookbooks and plan some meals for next week, d) eat more blueberries, e)watch world cup skate skiing on the tele while eating more blueberries? Looks like blueberries win. MMMmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!

Happy New Year!

Wow - 2010.

10 years ago I was in Bellingham graduating from Western. 2000
9 years ago I married Ryan and he graduated from WWU. 2001
8 years ago we quit our jobs and traveled through Europe and moved to Seattle. 2002
7 years ago I worked in Bellevue and sold flooring on the Internet. 2003
6 years ago I started commuting to work by bike and doing STP. Coleman was born! 2004
5 years ago I quit my job and started riding full time and pursued my dreams. 2005
4 years ago I rode my bike well over 10,000 miles in a year. 2006
3 years ago we bought a cabin in Mazama. Laurel was born! 2007
2 years ago my world came to an abrupt halt when Ryan died. 2008
1 year ago I rebuilt my shattered life and cried a lot. 2009

My goodness it does seem that life speeds up as you get older. The ups, the downs, the ins and outs. Life just keeps on going.

And just a quick little reminder of the good times - this photo was taken in Mazama that first winter we had the cabin. I think of Ryan every time I skate Jack's loop out to proposal point (so named from Laura and Dale) and stop to stare at Goat Wall.

Time loops

It's amazing how songs can transport you through time and space. They trigger a memory or a feeling - making you pause in your busy life and travel to a distant time. Listening to Jose Gonzalez reminds me of going to Banya 5 last year and treating myself to a massage. The woman who massaged me was playing this album and I got lost in space and time for an hour. I remember thinking how good it felt - the simple act of human touch - and how much Ryan and I used to simply hold one another.

Then it just as quickly transports me to the disbelief that he's gone. Some how I've been living in an altered parallel life and that he's really still here. But those irrational thoughts have been revisited hundreds of times and in a way I've gotten used to them. Sometimes I let the fantasy play around in my head, sometimes I let it go right back out that revolving door. And sometimes I don't have a choice.

Funny how some conversations, however brief, leave a lasting impression on you. On Friday night I saw a friend at a party on her way to the airport. She stopped by to give everyone well wishes and caught me a little off guard by asking, "you doing okay during the holidays?" Up until that point I thought I was. But when I stop the holiday whirl and constant motion the emptiness quickly creeps in.

Everything happens for a reason. Or at least that's what I tell myself. Having a heavy training week leading up to the holidays and then having some down time the week of was planned. And in more ways than one. Right now I need the mental and physical break to prepare myself for the weeks ahead. Not to mention this week. Every ounce of my energy will go toward putting myself in that happy spot. The one that transcends time and allows me to create new memories when listening to music.

"A highly trained aerobic athlete can get away with doing absolutely nothing for nine to 12 days before there will be an appreciable loss in fitness. However, it can take between eight and 12 weeks to regain fitness lost after taking four weeks off. That means if you don't exercise for the month of October, sometime in January you could be as fit as you were at the end of September. It is difficult to make significant strength and power gains from year to year if you spend three months losing and regaining fitness."

- Chris Carmichael, On the Road: Building the Foundation of Success.

Random thoughts

That was silly of me. I showed up to work today with no lunch. And now I'm torturing myself by looking at food blog after food blog. I could eat the stale organic trek mix sitting on my desk or I could continue to starve will dreaming up meals for when I get home. Just took a bite and am reminded again of why it's stale. BLAH!

Do I open the chocolate orange I bought for a coworker? Nah. That would make those hard earned winter miles a waste. And I'd either give it to her with a couple of slices missing or have to buy another one.

Just realized 2010 will mark 6 years of blogging! Six years! What a trip.

Yesterday whilst riding through the strongest head wind I've encountered in a long time and rain that was pelting my face with a vengeance, I once again realized that you have to absolutely love this nomadic sport in order to get any where with it. You have to be open to the hours of grueling repetitive motion with inclement weather and do so without remorse or a grudge.

For if you think about it, there is no good reason to be on your bike past dusk in the dark winter months. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

What keeps me lifting my leg over the saddle time and time again? The possibility of wins 6 months from now. Ride on nomadic solider, ride on.

As 2009 comes to a close, I can't help but think back to this time last year and marvel at how far I've come. Last year nearly broke me. The dark months were really dark and grief penetrated everything. It left me without the desire to ride or race, broke me down into less than half of what I was. But I think part of the healing process is going down into the dark depths of your soul, to depths that are not normal and consuming in order to feel what it's like to be normal again.

I think back on this year and remember some difficult times - times when I couldn't move or get out of bed, immobilized by loss of my partner, identity and part of my soul. To go to such depths make you realize how fortunate you are when things are normal and going according to plan. They paint the bigger picture in such clarity that I couldn't help but scoff at people sweating the small things in life. But we need those small things when things are going according to plan - to remind us that life is short and unpredictable.

This winter, which won't be officially winter until the 21st, I've been attacking my training with the passion I once felt. Pushing through the dark, cold, wet miles with goals in mind and keeping my focus. Grief no longer penetrates my every thought or move, but allows me to keep it at bay and acknowledge on my terms.

Last New Year's I felt like I HAD to get certain things done. Had to travel, visit the places to make me feel a little better. Spend less time at home with the constant reminders of what was missing. And the only thing that really helped was time itself. Time to repair my mind and soul.

Slowly I started to feel like myself again. Two steps forward, one step back. And in this slow fashion, when I look back at the past year I realize I climbed a mountain. An impossible mountain with lots of unforeseen challenges and false summits. I am thankful for this journey and the lessons it has taught me and continues to. But dammit, I'm STOKED for a new year, let alone a new decade.

Holy cow. Check this out!

(Oh cow? Didn't realize the typo until just now. Ha ha!)

Whistling in Winter

Ah, winter's back. Not that east coast cold ass ice so you have to ride your trainer inside bull shit. Instead we get the lovely incessant 38-42 degree drizzle that dampens your layers and sinks into your bones. But you can ride in it! And I'll take that misery any day over putting hours upon hours on the trainer. (I say that now at the beginning of a 16 hour road week...)

So with this week's training on tap - I cooked some food during my rest day to stock up for when I come home ravishing and ready to shovel some calories into my gullet. It's much easier to grab some roasted veggies out of the fridge and reheat them or throw in a little diced turkey and make a wrap. Instant gratification.

Time put in now in the cold months is money in the bank for later. It's important to make things as easy as possible to jump on the bike. Be that preparing food in advance, doing those neglected maintenance items on your off day when you don't want to think about the bike, etc - it'll pay off. Consider it a job - one that you're lucky enough to be passionate about and what once seemed a tedious task will give you freedom on the roads and in your heart.

And whistling always helps.

If anyone wants to ride this week - I'd love company!

After experiencing screaming barfies in my feet from last night's two hour jaunt in arctic temps, I'm more than looking forward to heading down to Bend and checking out Bachelor's cross country scene. Two hours of skating a day will keep that aerobic engine purring like a kitchen and surely my tootsies will stay warm!

And I'm so excited to be skating for the first time this season! Tela is going to join me between cheering on our friends at cross Nationals...

Hope you're staying warm!

Death by trainer

Oh the hours logged in one solid position on the bike, stationary in front of the boob tube watching hours upon hours of winter world cup events.... hopefully someone will check on me before I keel over from sheer boredom.

But there's hope! Tomorrow I head to Bend to watch cyclo cross Nationals and I'm bringing my skate skis to get some skiing in between cheers. Should be a good time!

Had a crazy dream last night that I had to escape a house before someone was coming to get me - and had to grab things that I absolutely couldn't leave behind. I remember thinking that I needed to make sure to grab my iron and wax for skis for my life depended on it. What about those old family photos?

And on another completely different note - I had HSP do a bike simulation for a new position on a Blue bike to make sure it fits before I pull the trigger and treat myself. My position is so different and BALANCED - it should make for a great change for the new decade....

I'm selling off a ton of bikes - anyone interested in 54cm? They'll be priced to move!

Clamming, Crabbing, Christmas Trees, Bike Rides, Clam smoke and more!

My friend Andrew has been clamming for quite some time. He's a connoisseur of all things seafood and is always up for fishing, clamming, crabbing, etc. However for the past decade plus since I've known him, pinning down a time and location to go clamming has been pretty much impossible. It's mainly due to the fact that state regulators open up specific areas for clamming only a handful of days at a time throughout the year. And you also have to time it with the low tides, busy city schedules, etc. We finally pinpointed a time - this past Friday night.

At the last minute I was able to take my six year old nephew Coleman with us too. We showed up in Tacoma to carpool with Andrew down to the Westport area on the coast. He brought some hip waders for Chris and I to wear since clamming is a dirty, sandy, wet excursion. Coleman got some last minute warm boots and gloves and thankfully brought his ski coat. The temperature on a reader board in Aberdeen boasted 29 degrees!

We drove for about 2.5 hours through the dark, cold night. About 3 miles south of Westport, we took a right and headed toward the beach. Much to our surprise, there were hundreds of lights along the tide flats. We parked near a house that had its lights on so we could find out car later and then started putting the gear on. We also fired up some coleman lanterns to begin the hunt. Armed with a clam gun and shovel plus a big 5 gallon bucket, off we went toward the ocean.

Thankfully we didn't have to go far. We were able to immediately spot some depressions in the sand and with the careful instruction of Andrew the digging began! We were hooping and hollering and making a big commotion as we brought in clam after razor clam. The clams were so plentiful that we limited out at 60 in about an hour!

Smelling the clear air, watching the hundreds of other lanterns dance along the tide flats to the slow rising moon and listening to the shore break not far from where we harvested the clams made for great memories. And something I'm sure Coleman won't forget for a long, long time. He slept the entire car ride back to Tacoma.

But the adventure wasn't over yet. The next morning we woke up, made some pancakes and sausage for breakfast, hoped in Chris's boat and dropped crab pots. It was so beautiful being on water in the early morning as the fog was evaporating into a clear blue sky. Birds diving for fish and sea lions poking their heads out of the water while hunting for salmon. We even saw a few fly fisherman on the shores of the Narrows on our way to Wolochett Bay. Coleman was a little freaked out at first to be in such a small boat with lots of crab gear. But he got used to hanging out and snuggling up to Makiah and I ducked his head inside his oversize life vest and trying to stay as warm as possible. After I we got back to Chris's house we quickly hiked the hill, got in the car and dropped him off at my mom's to go to his next adventure.



I jumped on my bike as quickly as possible to get my 3.5 hour ride in before sunset and hopefully avoid any icy conditions. I jammed down the Duamish Trail toward Tukwila and hit some ice on the Interurban trail but still kept it upright! Made to Tacoma in record time on the bike and had enough time to stop for some well earned chocolate milk. We then cleaned 15 clams and make both New England and Manhattan chowder that was amazing! I was pretty pooped by the end of the night.

Sunday brought more fun as Chris and I connected with Jennie, Tela and Mary for our weekly mountain bike ride at St. Edwards. I decided to drink a double cappuccino and was FLYING! We had so much fun thanks to a slightly later start and dry conditions. I swear, mountain biking reminds me so much of skiing. Half the time I'm on the verge of being out of control, but then I'm able to stick things since I have maybe at times a little too much confidence. It makes me giggle like a little kid!

And to cap the weekend off - I got to help Shelley, Lincoln and their two little girls Olivia and Alice decorate their Christmas Tree. It's becoming an annual tradition for sure. Oh and one more adventure - we headed over to Ben and Danielle's to smoke 30 of the clams and hang out with them the rest of the evening. Whew, what a weekend!

Go go gadget arms!

Well I finally did it. I finally pushed the envelope and stretched the boundaries. In retrospect I should have known this day was coming. But instead it has me slouching into my office chair, with little to no movement. I have to will myself to move every 20 minutes or so because my body is actually exhausted.

Perfect.

What is it that I did? Simple. I changed my weight training routine today. After 5 weeks of the same motions, I switched it up. I hefted heavy weights overhead. I did squats with more weight than before and I made my neck muscles flare like the Incredible Hulk.

And now? Well now I'm paying for it. Hold on, must move.

Much better. Don't get me wrong. The previous routine was good too. But after 5 weeks, my body had completely adapted to its moves. My core strengthened, legs toned and focus sharpened with each movement. My butt gained some serious strength and my chest press was starting to give me some serious pecks and arm definition.

However, today was a big reminder that you need to switch up your routine every so often. For doing the same movements, time and time again will only strengthen your strengths and leave your weaknesses withering. And what is so sore this time? Well after only 4 hours of recovery, I can't really lift my arms. I mean I can. But it takes considerable effort and concentration to levitate them from my keyboard.

Like I said, I should have known this day was coming. There were warning signs - practically sirens for that matter. Even last night as I briefly spoke with Jennie about the new program and how I was adapting to it, her quiet comment about how she didn't understand where I had all of that extra energy... well now I know. I should have been saving it for today.