I've got another permit for the Enchantments in August. Can't wait for warm weather!!!

Photo courtesy of Kaj Bune.

Doing Time

As I pulled into Marymoor Park for the first of three track workout sessions this week, I realize that yesterday marked the first day of six months of intense left turned ovals. Never mind the white caps blowing across the floating bridge or the aggro acts of daily commuters who are quick to flip the bird before tooting their horns. I was headed to the track for some self inflicted punishment of the fixed gear kind.

The wind was blowing a gale on the home straight and the dark clouds were hovering somewhere over Snohomish. Thirty laps of warm up lasted 29 too long. But on the back straight was a serious tailwind - helping my start efforts get up to speed before the head wall of wind in corner 4. It's day like these when the motivation to kill myself on the road bike wavers - so I was thankful for the track time. And even more thankful I wasn't doing my efforts in a 98" gear.

There's a quiet solitude the track provides in the early hours of the morning. The puddles have yet to dry around the apron and the west bound traffic hums along 520. Cirque is being set up in the adjacent parking lot next to the velodrome and the workers pay no mention to what I'm doing. My hands are greasy and grimy after changing gears and I accidentally spread grease on my face like war paint.

As I rest between standing start intervals, I catch up on some Zen reading and 10 minutes zooms by. I look forward to having company out at the track but I also enjoy the solitude. The next effort makes my entire body shudder and go limp once completed. There's work to be done and goals to strive for.

"One of the things I have come to appreciate most about my own tradition is its down-to-earth, no-nonsense practicality, and its acute sense that the greatest achievements take the deepest patience and the longest time."

- Sogyal Rinpoche

Monday's are hard. Especially after an incredible weekend of chillaxin' in the Methow Valley with friends, dogs and of course- bikes.

My off the couch 5.2 mile first leg of the Sunflower Race (go Team Makiah Blue!) with 8 minute miles - has left me a little sore and with a reminder that jumping into another sport you haven't trained for is not the smartest idea. You should see poor Chris - he can barely walk. But it was so worth it! We got 20th out of 47 teams - not bad for a team that did absolutely ZERO training. But we do have our eyes on the top ten teams next year....

I fell more in love with the Methow this weekend. On Friday Chris and I rode the Buck Mountain loop that starts at Cub Creek. The scenery was unreal and the weather perfect - with sunflowers littering the hill sides and big Simpson clouds floating in the sky. The single track was perfect - and my legs are only slightly scraped up from the prickly bushes lining the trails. I had no idea the area could be any more pretty - and this weekend proved me wrong.

This morning was rough... sitting in the morning commuter traffic to get my track workout in before work made me yearn to move to Mazama even sooner. Going from zero crowds to too many people crammed into a small space with lots of concrete is just a reminder that I want to move out of the city before too long and live life closer to the mountains.

Had a big milestone this past weekend too - and am taking it in stride.

Stage Four

The objective: position yourself as best as possible throughout the entire 4 corner straight forward course.

Result: okay positioning - but not the best for the final sprint as thoughts of last years crash and the previous week's dance in my head. This hesitation amplified in every corner and we all know that stressed cornering leaves little room for error and fatigues the body more than a relaxed approach. So in that regard - I had a kind of a downer race. But the good news is that I'm eager and excited to work on that mental aspect and have already visualized killing it for the next one. I think the thing that scares me the most is having other bad handlers around me (which you can't control at all) and now that I've recognized it and will only be responsible for myself - I'll be gracefully diving through those corners in no time. Look out!

Melissa Sandborn was on fire - taking nearly every prime and winning the race. She came ready to throw down more than the rest of us and it showed.

Next on tap? A weekend at the cabin in Mazama. We're joining friends Camille, Josh (happy anniversary by the way!) Kyle, and Laura for some mountain biking and running adventures. I'm stoked! I haven't been over there since January and look forward to spending some time in the valley.

Have a great weekend!

Stage Three

That night after the mother stage part deux we headed up in the hills outside of Mosier to get our pasta feed on with Cutler, Varland, and the Kauper crew (plus some other IJM.org team members). Maggie labored going up the climb - but showers and food beckoned at the top so I would have gotten out to push her if need be.

One of the perks of being on local cycling team is taking advantage of their goods - and Jessica's Cucina Fresca delivered. It's pretty amazing how much food skinny cyclists can put down without hesitation.

We slept like babies in the van that night - mainly because it was super quiet - and were awaken by someone who decided to start moving things in and out of his car at 6 am. Open door. Close door. Open. Close. Open, open, open - close, close, close. Then he started up his car - and was ready to squeeze past the van, which didn't have enough room... so I hopped up in my sleeping bag and rolled Maggie forward a couple of feet. He pulled forward, then parked his car - blocking us in. Somewhat hilarious in that "I'm- not-quite-awake-yet-and-you-got-me-up-for-no-reason" kind of way.

Regardless - we had to get up too, so after a quick coffee brew off we went to the time trial start.

We arrived a little over an hour before the start - ample time to warm up and get ready. Except my heart rate wouldn't get up over 140 bpms. Uh oh. Plan B- I head out to the road to see if I can get it up out there. 150 bpms. With the clock rapidly approaching my start time, I calmly work my way to the start and am surprised I'm able to put in a harder dig than expected. We're not talking world records or anything - but for being fatigued and day three of hard racing - I still come out with a 12th place and am looking forward to the crit that afternoon.

Back in the school parking lot, we fire up the stove and start working on some more pasta with turkey, asparagus, onions, bok choy and chill. We only had a few hours between stages so we relaxed and propped the feet up. Bringing Maggie to this race was the best decision I could have made.

Stage Four to come...

Stage Two

All night I repeated a mantra to myself - and envisioned myself staying with the pack on the circuit course. It was hard to get dinner down - my endorphins and adrenaline were buzzing all night.

After scouting the next day's course, Chris and I headed to the hospital to check on HB teammates Jake and Michael. They were involved in a horrendous crash in the 4/5 field, seeing 20 guys go down, hospitalizing 8 riders and rumor has it breaking 3 to 4 collar bones. Miraculously no one was seriously injured - despite crashing on the 38 mph descent after the hill, which is actually pretty impressive. Thinking about rolling around on the chip seal dressed in spandex and the nasty road rash is not my idea of a good time. Fast healing thoughts go out to all of those involved.

That night we drove Maggie down to the Memloose State Park, 11 miles West of the Dalles and were lullaby-ed to sleep by the constant drone of the freeway and occasional train rumbling the van awake in the middle of the night. Not to mention Makiah was moaning and whining all night - to be let out and then to start whining again later that night. I remember waking up to hear her ralphing and thought maybe I had caught it in time... only to find out later that morning she had yakked all over Chris's sleeping bag and everything else on the floor. And she had some how rolled in it. Sweet. Dog puke. And rain. And wind. Mother nature had decided to show back up and punish us for having such nice weather on Friday.

The winds continued blowing a gale all day - but thankfully the rain decided to hold off from the start point of the course (appropriately named Dry Hollow). Chris set off to race with the Masters 40+, which contained multiple world and national champions. Had he known how competitive of a field he was going to be in (he's had 5 races under his belt) - there is no way he would have signed up. Instead he dutifully made his way to the back and then rolled all of the courses - but finished every single stage. His misadventures include: being crop dusted on stage one; being physically shoved off a wheel from a guy who had flatted in stage one and shoving him back (Kierin practice!); being chased by rabid dogs on stage two; having to stop to take a tumble weed out of his cranks; missing his TT start time by a minute 30 seconds.... All in all a very eventful yet uneventful in terms of bodily harm outing. Oh, and did I mention the dog puke sleeping bag? Yet throughout it all he still kept a smile on his face and good humor.

This is the second year for the Cherry Blossom Cycling Classic - and classic it is. Instead of including the mother load 7 mile hill, Chad decided to mix it up a bit and throw in a circuit race. The guys had a big loop containing an unpaved section that they had to do 2-3 times (depending on the category) and then finished on the short loop (3-4 times). Us ladies were given only the short loop option that we had to complete 8 times. EIGHT TIMES!!! Not a big deal except each loop contained roughly 900 feet of elevation gain - giving us about 7,200 feet of climbing. Luckily I hadn't figured out those calculations until after the race was over... otherwise I'm sure my off the back time would have been much, much worse.

First time up the hill - Tricia punches it. I get on her wheel. I find my heart rate through the roof and by the time we hit the second hill, I'm seeing the red zone and know I'm in trouble. Unfortunately the descent is windy and technical especially with side winds and deep dish wheels. By the time we reach the second loop, I pop like an over sized pimple and watch helplessly as the lead group gallops away. Thankfully Christine and I were near one another and do the remaining laps together. She paces me on the uphill, I pace her on the downhill. We roll in 16 minutes down. Ouch. The thing that kept me going? Time suffering now is money in the bank. Money in the bank come October....

That night I felt destroyed. D.E.S.T.R.O.Y.E.D. Thankfully the coach called me back before bed and we talked strategy for the time trial and crit - both of which I was ready to sand bag so I could just call it a day. But no - she wants me to attack them as if I was in the lead and put in the solid training work. I get my mojo back and fall into a deep slumber, seeing myself TT onto the podium.....

Stage Three to be continued.

Together, the mind and the body can unlock anything you set your mind to. Keeping those positive affirmations and a humble attitude evens out the ups and downs that life can throw in the mix. I enjoy the journey and the process of self discovery that cycling provides and don't take for granted my health or ability to move my body for one minute. Even on those days when things don't go according to plan - when you're unable to keep up with the lead pack or pull off that final interval because of an asthma attack. What keeps me going is the process of it all - enjoying the now and smiling at how happy I am in the moment, enjoying life. Bike racing is a wonderful way to pass the limited time we have on this planet and I couldn't imagine my life without two wheeled adventures.

This past weekend reaffirmed my love for bike racing. An unexpected surprise - especially with a 2nd place result in the first stage. Even in a stage that crushed my spirits last year but this year proved to be one of the top ten times I've had riding my bike. The more I think about it, the more those experiences have happened in the last year. And I would like to give Ms. Jennie Reed credit for that. And of course all of the people who support me in my endeavors - but Jennie's insight and coaching has been nothing less than spot on.

Going into a bigger stage race with no teammates was somewhat intimidating. But it also allowed me to sit in and play it smart and not have to expend any energy chasing anything down. The first lap was eventful - with lots of attacks off the front. But neither KR or Riverstone was going to let anything get up the road. We reached the hill - I conquered my demons and stuck with the bunch shooting off the front on the descent and getting a little separation from the field. Come to find out later from Christine that right when I rolled off the front someone in the front of the pack dropped their chain and caused a big panic in the pack. Lap two saw additional attacks and this time I was ready to participate (knowing that legs would be tired and the chances of getting into a move were higher than earlier in the race). The second time up the hill the pack was together and by the third lap, everyone was happy to just hang out and let it come down to a field sprint. I was salivating just thinking about it.

The final 3 k saw some sketchy riders, fatigued from the length of race, and handling that nearly caused a crash. But as the 1 k approached, the road opened and all of the sprinters surged to the front. I took the inside line, breaking a little of my momentum on the corner and watched Melissa jet rocket off the left side and sail into the finishing straight. Climbing up the hill - I punched it, passing the 5 riders in front of me, sitting on Jadine's wheel for a split second, then sling shot past her in for second across the line. I pushed so hard in that final sprint I was pretty cross eyed. And VERY elated. It's nice when something comes along completely unexpected and wonderful - and I was stoked.



(Photo from Pat Malach of Oregon Cycling Action.)

More report to come soon....

Mantra

I can climb hills!

I can time trial!

I can push my body.


I am strong, confident and open to new experiences.

I LOVE hills! They are my friends.

Go Westy

Last Wednesday I mentioned to Jennie my interest in participating in the Cherry Blossom stage race down in the Dalles area as a way to help Wheeler and gain some fitness. She saw it as a great opportunity to work on more road fitness so I registered that night, barely making the registration cut off and committing to 4 stages of pure fun.

My intention was to be there to support Wheels and make some new memories of that race since last year's attempt was marred with a bad crash and personal grief. I remember thinking during the last stage how emotionally and physically drained I was and the thought of climbing up a 13 mile hill twice a little daunting. It had only been seven months since Ryan had passed and I was hurting. Nothing can prepare you for that kind of trauma and thankfully I weathered the storm.

Now here I am - back for more - a year later. I am ready and eager to make new experiences there. I've always wanted to camp while racing and finally after 6 years of hanging out in hotels and biscuit and gravy continental breakfasts - I'm taking the plunge by loading up Maggie (my 1990 VW Westfalia) equipped with propane stove, fridge and beds and found a place down on the river. The campsite has showers - so going to bed with sticky legs shouldn't be a problem. My puffy jacket weighs close to nothing - and I can cook every meal my heart desires.... not to mention s'mores with every meal if I want.



Jealous? You should be. :)

"When that one Great Scorer comes to write against your name, he marks not that you won or lost, but how you played the game.... and how you lived your life day by day."

- Grantland Rice

Stoked/Not so stoked

Lots of pluses and a couple of minuses this weekend. Let's play the good old game of highlight/lowlight... with more emphasis on the highlight.

High-light:
Got to get out of the ci-tay for the weekend and head to that land of rolling hills and sweet, sweet onions. The weather forecast predicted 70s all weekend and it delivered!

The first stage, which hasn't been mandatory until recently, did not have the battering winds and harsh conditions. Instead it was super pleasant.

Low-light:
Hitting my VO2 max on the QOM hill and not recovering in time to catch the peloton. MAN! That hurt! But the bonus is - I find it super hard to train in this zone so I definitely got some good hard work done in this arena. I look forward to displaying this punishment come October....

Highlight:
Wheeler came to play! She was ready for a solid performance and the team was ready and set to rally around her for the GC win.

Lowlight:
Wheels loses both contacts in the crit and crashes HARD with 2 laps to go. She has to go to the ER and get checked out.

Highlight:
Wheeler only broke her collarbone despite being twisted up like a pretzel on the ground and not moving. She was smiling in the hospital bed and giving the doctors hell. So glad she's okay!

Unfortunately at Sunday's road race 3 more HBer's went down - taking both Liz's out of the race and banging up Julie a little bit.

Highlight/lowlight:
Sunday was 75 miles of pure bliss. Well, sort of. If you take out the 3 times up the 2+ mile hill at 5% gradient. Oh - and the winds. And the screaming hot feet. But thankfully - I jumped on the "cool kid" ride and we made the most of the remaining time off the back. This was the best thing I could have done - I feel mentally fresh and ready to go again next weekend.

Hats off to KR team for the dominance this weekend. You ladies came and threw down the gauntlet! Well done, well done.

And for once - this trackie isn't thinking only about track now? Wow - that's a first.

YAY for biker tan lines!

Lately I've been super chipper in the morning - up and at em at the break of dawn and raring to go. I get all of my house chores done as fast as possible, avoid the computer and make my food for the day. I head into work, eat more food, catch up on the computer and then start planning my afternoon riding and dinner. By the time dinner is done and the sun sets, my eyes start drifting further and further shut until I can barely keep myself awake. Last night the clock read 9:20 when that happened.

Ah...there's nothing like a solid 9+ hours of sleep a few nights before a stage race and a two hour blissful massage by Genevieve.

This weekend takes the HB ladies to the town name they liked so much they named it twice - Walla Walla. Where sweet, sweet onions grow, wine is made in droves and bikes are raced with fury. Time to test the legs and put some hurt on.

Grunt work

I thought I'd be able to avoid the rain today - but now it's coming down in a steady drizzle. No matter though - the rain will make my scheduled afternoon Cougar Mountain repeats all that much sweeter. Oh and don't forget the 4 x 4's. The slick roads give my mind something else to think about other than the pain.

A champion is made a day at a time.

Yesterday's time trial bike session was challenging. Jennie joined me for the 3x10 minute intervals and there's nothing like having an Olympian sit on your wheel pushing you beyond what you think is possible. The tunnel vision came, the legs screaming in protest, the lungs and breathing labored, yet focusing on engaging the core, keeping a straight and steady line - pulling yourself out of the tunnel and beyond until you think you're going to faint and glancing down to realize only 5 minutes have passed. Pushing your body till it's dramatically swaying on the bike and giving it everything you've got. Throwing out the notion of being steady and consistent and instead working out every last ounce of power from your being and transferring it into a man made machine. Then for the last minute pushing past the red zone into purple and holding it for the full 60 seconds. Going so hard that it takes 5 minutes of no spinning to return to 150 beats per minute and realizing it's absolutely beautiful out in the Snoqualmie Valley this time of year.

There's nothing like a little self-induced pain to make you feel alive.

No more bonkage

I laid awake in bed this morning, replaying the race over and over in my head. Yesterday's lackluster performance has me reeling - what went wrong? Did I over train this week? Why couldn't I push into the pain cave more? Is that all I have? What's the deal, yo?

But sometimes you just have a poor performance just because. It's hard to admit this - that you just had a bad day on the bike. Especially compared to the hundreds of good days on the bike - but they're bound to happen.

And being the over analytical woman that I am, I think I may have pinpointed it. Food. It all comes down to food. Eating a breakfast at 8:30, no matter how big it is, and then racing at 2 in the afternoon is just plain suicide. No wonder I felt like caca. My engine was on empty. The real bummer part is that this is something I can easily control. Dope!

Training this week? Did I over due it? I don't think so - I really think it can be pinned to poor nutrition this week and a few days leading up to the race. Time to revisit the old cookbooks and make a week long plan in preparation for Walla Walla. I'm vowing to myself to always have food on hand ready for munching all week long... it's not rocket science.

Big huge congrats to Wheeler for another fabulous win yesterday. This girl wants it so bad she's laying everything on the line and going for it. It's super inspiring and makes me want to push to new levels too. Thanks Wheels!

Ready, set ...

The anxious moments before the race. Especially one that's just up the street... the normal pre race motions thrown out the window since I can get ready at home vs on the side of the road out of my car. Which do I prefer? Probably out of the car to be honest. I've taken three craps already. At least its at my own toilet vs. a porta potty. Sorry - a little graphic but true.

Embrace the nervousness. Let it flow through you. Enjoy this moment and the time to come. The leg shakes, the finger nail biting, the inability to chill and sit still. The feeling of about to get your body to move as fast as possible. It seems intensified when I get ready at home. Seattle's speed week is later this season and you can bet I'll be just as nervous - if not more so.

It's go time.

Happiness is....

...discovering that Hollywood hill is no longer long or hard enough for my 10 minute efforts.

...finding out that the base road work we've been working on for the past six months is on track and now I get to work on that snap and pop in the legs and sustaining a massive power output for 15 seconds.

...out of the saddle climbing is stronger than ever - and I'm utilizing the strength in my newly found shelf butt and steady core. Those swimmer exercises, though a pain in the hiney, pay off!!!

...I can get my heart rate up! And finding my zones is easier now than ever thanks to keeping it in check in racing.

...realizing that I'm living in the moment, enjoying this process of kicking ass and being in the best shape of my life.

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. :)