Out of body experiences...

That's strange, I thought to myself. I tried getting ahold of Benjamin via FaceTime multiple times that evening. It was his day off from commuting up to Boulder and I figured he must be out riding or something.

I tried him again. This time the call failed.

Give me 15 minutes, he texted.

I was sitting in the lobby and figured my crappy connection in Mexico was the culprit. Dave and Ali sat across from me and we started talking about the day. I was getting tired and ready to go to bed, but wanted to make sure I connected with Benjamin since we hadn't spoken all day. I also didn't have an Internet connection in my room.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a red sweat shirt wearing person walk down the hall. I do a double take.

"Hey there," Benjamin says.

"No way!" I respond, jumping up from the couch and enveloping him in a hug. He got got me. Like I got him in London.

"Hi baby. Did you get got?" he said, kissing me on the lips. "I wouldn't miss this."

It was the night before competition for the ParaCycling track world championships in Aguascalientes, Mexico. His presence instantly soothed me. The week leading up to the race had gone relatively smooth but his presence meant complete support no matter what happened out on the track. No disappointing looks, no "woulda, shoulda, coulda's"- absolutely positive vibes and a booming, encouraging voice willing my legs to push harder and faster.

He booked a flight, arranged a dog sitter, got a hotel room at the hotel we were staying at and brought his bike for transportation between the hotel and the track without me having a clue. I suppose having been to Aguas at least 5 times prior helped - he knows the lay of the land and the hotel staff all know him by name.

On race day I saw him enter the track bleachers while Karissa and I were doing our warm up. It must have felt strange to not be on the infield. His previous profession was built around infield coaching. For the first time in seven years he came as a spectator.

"You could have Ben read your splits if you like," Ian the high performance director said to me about 15 minutes before we were ready to start the 3km pursuit.

"That's okay. I'll have Andy do it. But when we make the final, I'd like that a lot," I replied, wiping the sweat from my brow. The velodrome was hotter than hot. It's an indoor 250 with an inflated doom roof. Air is pumped in from outside and coupled with the lights, people and reflection of the sun, it heats up to 110 degrees by 1pm. Our seigneur doused us with cold, wet sponges that dried within minutes of skin contact.

"It's time girls," Mike the assistant coach tells us. We're dressed in team USA skin suits, aero helmets and cycling shoes.

I walk across the infield, with Karissa following me. We're about to go as hard as possible for roughly 3.5 minutes. The Tiemeyer track tandem with double disks is perched in the starting gate. We walk around and straddle the bike, clipping in and preparing for an explosive start.

I can feel Benjamin. I know he's there and I don't have to look at him. I'm focused on the effort at hand. Visualizing for the final time a perfect start, sensing the pain and detaching from it.

The countdown timer starts with a beep. 15 seconds. Beep. 10 seconds. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, BEEP! Off we go, my nerves aroused as we round the first two corners. We pump our legs harder, faster, settling into a fast tempo and getting the bike up to speed as quickly as possible. We settle into our saddles, and I extend through the aero bars. Andy yells our splits, which gives us immediate feedback for how hard or how slightly easier we should go.

The laps tick by. Our swift start has us struggling toward the end. We start to fade with 1km to go. I'm battling inner demons, pushing through the pain and narrowing in on the tunnel vision of staying glued to the pursuit line as much as possible. We're losing ground. The Kiwi's catch us, which momentarily makes me loose focus. We push. We pull. We cross the finish line.

We spin around the track a few times as I try gulping air, try getting some blood back into my brain. I pull over and Karissa jumps off the bike quickly. I collapse on the top tube. Rick, another coach, catches me as I'm about to fall over. I can't lift my leg over the handle bars. I'm spent. I gave it everything. We finished with a 3:35, 13 seconds faster than our time in LA. One second faster than Karissa's 10 year standing national record. I try walking down the ramp and can't. I grasp a hand rail. I don't know where Karissa went. So I sit down, unable to muster up the energy to walk across the infield. I can't catch my breath.

I had given it everything.

Ian walks over and checks on me.

"I'm sorry, I tried as hard as I could," I wheeze, leaning forward and ready to retch.

"Don't apologize. Giving it everything you have is all we ask," he responds.

"I wish she wanted it as bad as I do," I whisper, looking up as I start a coughing fit.

After twenty minutes, I walk back to the pit accompanied by a mechanic who holds my arm. Karissa is there, changing back into her street clothes. Benjamin calls to me from the railing and asks if I'm okay. I give him the thumbs up. Yes, I'm more than okay. I just gave a ride at the world championships everything I had. And though the result didn't stand a chance compared to the Kiwi's, it was a remarkable improvement for us. But we have a long, long way to go.

I start coughing again. I can't quite catch my breath and feel like I might puke, sneeze, cough and shit all at once. My body is shutting down. I'm delirious.

"Karissa, do you want to cool down?" I muster.

"I already did," she responds. Was I gone that long?

I clamber onto the bike and can't quite make out what people are saying to me. I'm floating between consciousness and blacking out. I did it. I pushed my body to the limit and didn't die. And as crazy as it sounds, I can't wait to do it again.

I can't wait to do it again.

The Happenings

Life takes interesting twists and turns. Six years ago, my world was rocked. Three years ago, I met Benjamin. Two and a half years ago, I moved to Colorado. In 2012, I spent a month in Mallorca, Spain, had our house near the wildfire evacuation zone, and surprised Ben in London for the games. Last year I started tandem racing on the ParaCycling team and this year I'm headed to Mexico for my second world championship aimed to guide Karissa to some rainbow stripes. And in the next few months, we're relocating up to Boulder. Oh and we're getting married!

Needless to say, things have been busy around here. I've been working on my memoir daily with my June due date coming quick. Ben quit working at USA Cycling and now works at Stages Power Meters. Moonli and Makiah are happy and silly.  Things are good, really, really good.

Earlier this week the team headed up to LA for some track training on the velodrome. We've been stationed in the Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista and making trips up north to get in some quality training before our big competition next week. I called Gary, Ryan's dad, and let him know our training times and hoped to meet up. I love to keep in touch with him and make an effort to see him and his wife Anita every time I'm in town.

"You sure didn't take the traditional path in life," Anita commented at dinner. Her eyes were wide, portraying what I registered as fear. "I could never not have a steady job or paycheck. Yet, Jen, I got to hand it to you. You make it work."

"I'm not sure how," I admitted. Her fear triggered my own. How am I making this work?

"You're doing it right, girl," Gary championed. He is always supportive. He shakes his head in wonderment at me a lot, but it's nonjudgemental and makes me giggle when I think about how crazy most of the shit is that I do.

I admit, it's tempting to quit everything and get a real job. Climbing a corporate ladder would satisfy my competitive itch. But I know as soon as I do, I would find myself unhappy in a matter of weeks. I need constant movement, constant pressure of improving as a person and an athlete. As nice as a steady paycheck sounds, the idea of regular office hours and the same type of work sounds absolutely boring. Bring on the unknown. Bring on the adventure. I'm all about the journey.

And you know what? When you are open to a journey that takes twists and turns and you accept things for what they are and make the most of them, big and exciting things happen.

Make it work. That's all you have to do. Don't settle for mediocracy. Take life by the horns, choose what you want to do and follow your dreams with reckless abandon.  You never know if it's going to lead to Aguascalientes, Mexico for a ParaCycling Track World Championship.

Excerpt from Chapter Nine...

One morning during savasana in yoga, we laid on our mats for the final few minutes of class in silence. During this quiet meditation, I could feel Ryan’s energy enter my body, wrapping me in an embrace. It was unexpected and soothing and a reminder of how much how much I missed him. As the seconds ticked into minutes, I could feel the lump in my throat building. I could feel him all around me, soaking into my skin and melting down into my heart. My emotions started to surface and tears rolled down my checks.

The teacher rang the three bells, signaling the end of class and summoning us back from deep relaxation to the present. I gently moved my fingers and toes, bringing awareness back into my limbs. I wondered if the other yogis felt the strong presence of Ryan, a love so deep that it moved me to tears.

The other people in the class were moving around, picking up their yoga mats and leaving the room. I looked over at Shawnee and she was staring back at me.

“I felt him. He was here, wasn’t he,” she said quietly, tears welling up in her eyes. I nodded yes in response.  “I didn’t know Ryan, but I am honored to get to know him through you.”

I took a deep breath, acknowledging the strength and wisdom that having someone so near to you die is now a part of my everyday existence. I moved off my yoga mat and rolled it up in a tight coil, thankful for that moment and thankful that I will never forget how much he means to me.

Prepping for Worlds

My whole body hurt. My legs were screaming at me to stop. My body felt like it was going to explode. And yet I kept pushing. 20 seconds to go. Focus on something else, anything other than the pain pulsating through my body. Fight for it! Keep those rpms up! 10 seconds. PUSH!

And done. Rest one for one minute and then throw yourself back into the pain cave. Sixteen times.

Oh micro-intervals. (For my non-cycling readers: micro intervals are usually a set length of time with a 1:1 recovery. They're short, they're sweet and they hurt, a lot. You are tapping into your VO2 zone, building on how long you can sustain that intensity and then recover. It's kind of like banging your head into a door, repeatedly and on purpose. It's like ripping your own legs off and then doing it again.)

No one would know if I gave up. If I stopped, got off the trainer, and walked away from the pain. In fact, most people would do just that. Why subject yourself to that kind of pain if you don't have to?

I'll tell you why: the ParaCycling track world championships are coming. And they're coming fast.

I'm putting in the time, bleeding out my eyeballs, putting emphasis on rest and recovery as much as quality workouts. I'm getting at least 8 hours of sleep a night. I'm lining up everything to give the 3k pursuit everything we've got.

I'm getting stronger. It hurts like hell but I'm getting stronger.

Lies, lies, lies...

Rosanne Olson/Photographer's Choice/Getty Images

Lies. Deceit. Deception.

The average person encounters 200 lies a day. That's over 12 lies an hour we're awake a day.

Why do we lie? In many ways, it's more a question of why wouldn't we lie?

"How are you?"

"Good," we respond despite the dog shit on our shoe, the parking ticket we found after we noticed someone hit and run our car. We put on a fake smile, thinking it would be easier to gloss it over rather than explain how we really feel. Because if we told someone how we really felt, we'd expose our vulnerability.

Sometimes we don't mind being lied to. And when that fake smile flashes across your friends face, you let it slide.

So why do we lie?

I'm reading a book called "LieSpotting" by Pamela Meyer. After a successful professional career, Meyer was intrigued by lying and deceit so she decided to research it. If we can detect lies through verbal and nonverbal cues, then we can stop it. Wouldn't you want to surround yourself with those you trust most? Just imagine a life without lying!

Makes me think of a certain someone…

Setting Intensions: Not for the Faint of Heart.

For those of you who have happened upon my blog, here's some contextual backstory: My husband died in 2008 in a rock climbing accident and I became a widow at age 30. I was grief stricken and shocked. But I also knew right away that I had a choice - I could wallow in my sorrow or choose to look at grief as a gift.

After some soul searching and letting time, the ultimate healer pass, I opened myself up to new things. Life coaching, mindfulness, conscious awareness, and choosing to live a life that I wanted to live. Doors started opening: new love, opportunities, sunny weather, buying a house, establishing myself in a new community, striving toward my Olympic dreams, to name just a few.

They all happened because I set an intension around it. I didn't focus on a specific outcome - I just put my heart out there focusing on happiness, joy and passion and guess what? Happiness, joy and passion showed up in my life, and then some.

What I would love, more than anything, is to share the possibilities with you. To give you the support you need to reach for the impossible, to help shape a new reality - one that you create. Because we are only gifted one chance in this life and we can let it whiz by or we can grab it by the horns and go for one kick ass ride.

So...

What are your dreams and desires? What is that one thing that if you focus on, gets your stoked factor into the 11+'s? Think about that one pure thing you want: love, laughter, money, employment, happiness, joy.

Got it?

Good.

Now sit with it. Turn off your phone. Shut down your computer. Find a comfortable spot to sit upright and release all tension, emotions and thoughts. Let your mind be blank.

Once you've cleared your mind, you're ready to set your intension. Draw it up into your consciousness and then let. it. go. Stop thinking about it.

And repeat this, day after day. When intensions come from a mindful, quiet space they're much more powerful then when they come out of a sense of need.  Detach from the outcome. If you intend for everything to work out as it should and when you let it go, opportunities will come your way. Let the Universe handle the details. Don't worry about outcomes.

Set your pure intension and amazing things will happen.

You are the master of your own destiny.

Mindfulness

I'm going to let you in on a little secret.

Ready?

Are you sure?

Mindfulness works. It really, really works. And you can apply it to anything in your life. It is that powerful.

What is mindfulness? It is the state of active, open attention to the present. When you're mindful, you observe your thoughts and feelings from a distance, without judging them good or bad. Instead of letting your life pass you by, mindfulness means living in the moment and awakening to the experience. (According to Psychology Today.)

That's great, but how do I apply it to x, y or z?

Let's talk about eating, since we all eat. How often do you multi-task while eating? You check your phone, watch TV, read a book or a magazine, do something, anything while you shovel food in. You get food all over, you miss your mouth and food lands in your lap, you don't even notice what you're eating tastes like.

Mindfulness slows that all down. It's going to require you put that phone, remote or book down though. Instead, you'll be focused on one task at a time. You start to notice more - how the food feels on your tongue; how it tastes; how it feels sliding down your throat. Because of this awareness, you start to notice when you're full so you stop eating as much. You lean up, you calmly digest, you enjoy each meal.

Great - but how do I apply this to sports?

Think about a recent win. How did you feel? Where you in the present moment? Where you 100% focused? That's mindfulness. It's hard to achieve at every moment, of every day. It can be hard to achieve it multiple times in your life. But if you practice, it will become more frequent and you'll be able to harness that inner strength when ever you need to. And it will make the impossible, possible.

How do you start?

With just 10 minutes a day. Yep, 10 minutes. I recommend starting in the morning when your day is calmest. You can even do it while you're laying in bed. Focus on your breath in, breath out. Notice thoughts or feelings come in, let them pass with curiosity and fade back out. All you have to do is just keep practicing this simple technique, and you'll be on your way.

For those overachievers - go to yoga at least 3 times a week. Focus on your breath, aligning your mind, body and spirit. It works, yo!

Countdown

Beep! The clock sounds.

We're on the tandem, pedals clipped in, in the starting gate with our feet poised at 10 and 2, left foot high. I take a breath, relaxing into the moment - the calm before the storm. I am here, in this moment, on this track. My mind stays completely focused on the task at hand.

Beep, beep, beep, beep Beeeep! Each beep brings more awareness, more focus, more concentration. The gate releases us and we're up, out of the saddle, charging down the front straight heading into corner 1. I'm breathing audibly out loud as we round into corner two, driving the front wheel onto the black line. I can feel Karissa's breath on my back as we ease our way back down into the saddle.

Each time we practice, our starts get better. I'm getting used to her movements on the back of the bike and she's getting used to my motions on the front of the bike. It's starting to feel smooth, really smooth. We're honing our technique, with our hopes and dreams set on this weekend's world qualifier. If we do well, we might have an opportunity to race in Mexico in April at the World Championships and help Team USA earn valuable points toward Rio.

The tandem tales continue…. lots of hard work both on and off the bike. My days are consumed by track time. The evenings are full of writing and working, reading and relaxing. Lots of hard work consuming my normal routine. It feels awesome to be this mindful of every moment.

Comfort zones are for the birds.

How often do you step outside of your comfort zone? To put something really out there? To throw caution to the wind, run at something with full force and see what happens? Right or wrong, failure or success - you just do it.

I was told today that I should try it more. The context was in the realm of sport but why not apply it to life? If you're going to go for something, really go for it - why not let it embody everything you do?

Too often I sit back and calculate what feels right, what feels comfortable. Sure I'm willing to go out on a limb and try things for the first time. I'll face fears and challenge status quo's with the best of them. But after you expose yourself to something new, how often do you push the envelop of that experience? Do you have to continue to remind yourself that you want more? That you're willing to put more of yourself out there? Or does it just come naturally?

It takes a mindful awareness. A conscious decision. A playfulness, a curiosity that goes beyond the "box."

This is going to be my resolve this year. Pushing the envelop. Trying new things. Keeping a beginners mind, and going for it with gusto in spite of failure or success. If you want something, truly want it, you've got to be willing to do what ever it takes.

The Pain Cave

The Pain Cave - that place you go when you're pushing your body out of its comfort zone. Some people back off as soon as they hit it, some don't.

From threehoursaweek.blogspot.com

Athletes face The Pain Cave often. Competitors know it well. The trick is to train your body to endure discomfort, to push beyond what you think are your limits, for a few seconds, minutes, hours or longer. Champions do it all the time.

Take the women's 3k individual pursuit. Seconds after the explosive start, the body starts to scream. Three laps in, the body wants to shut down. But there's 9 laps remaining. Enter the pain cave. An athlete's ability to push through this barrier can set records or not. The queen of the pain cave? Five time World Champion Sarah Hammer.

How can you increase your pain cave threshold?

Practice. Practice. And more practice.

Get comfortable with the uncomfortable.

Push yourself little by little and increase your tolerance by stepping out of your comfort zone. Be intentional and deliberate with your practice. Play around with things outside of your sport - yoga, hiking, skiing, ice plunges, etc. Reach the spot where the body starts to scream and push, push, push. Tell your body it will get a rest, but you've got work to do first.

Such Great Heights

Transported, once again.

This song catches me between happiness and loss.

It reminds me of an undeniable love, a love we built together.

I'm so thankful I know it, deep in my bones, down to my soul. It taught me how to love.

Ryan touched me. And it aches knowing he's gone.


It's such a special place, the one I'm transported to.

Sad and happy - a different wave of grief as time passes.

Resolutions: Love 'em or Leave 'em.

Resolution: 

1. The state or quality of being resolute; firm determination.
2. A resolving to do something.
3. A course of action determined or decided on.


It's my favorite time of year, as far as resolutions go. I've asked everyone I bump into at one point or another, "so, what are YOUR resolutions?"

And I usually get the following response: 

Resolutions are lame. I don't believe in deciding to change something about myself during the first of the year simply because society says I should. If I'm going to do something, I'm just going to do it.

Word.

That is, until I admit what my resolutions are. I'm not afraid to say what I want to improve and grow upon. I want to hike the incline and do yoga weekly, I want to hand write letters to my friends (old school!), I want to detox and eat mindfully. I want to reflect on the previous year and say, hot damn! That was one for the books! 

How can I do it better?

Reflection is a great chance to say YES to growth. How do I want to improve what I'm doing? What do I want to celebrate? What do I want to look back on a year from now and soak in the lessons learned, the laughter shared, the moments of triumph and failure?

We get one chance on this planet and I resolve to make the most of it. You should too. 

Standing on the edge...

I'm standing on the edge of a canyon, weighed down by a suitcase clutched in my right hand. In it are all of my experiences: keys to my past, things that make me who I am and a foundation for what I want to become. I brought the bare minimum, open to learning more, ready for the challenge and curious what I'll throw out along the way.

The panoramic view excites me. There's so much to explore, so many things to encounter, so many experiences to be had. I'm committed to this journey. I'm ready to dig deep, excavate and put my heart and soul into this work. 

I take a deep breath and start to make my way down to the bottom of the canyon via a faint switch back trail. It's dusty and hard to maneuver with my suitcase, but I'm determined I may need some of its contents later.

Taken from http://mpeesel.com/randomness-on-the-trail/

What's the canyon you're standing on? What's your journey?

I just committed to writing my memoir in six months. And by committed, I mean I'm taking an intensive course that's going to challenge me in ways I never imagined. My goals are to complete 60,000 words of my story, my perspective on how grief is a gift. I'm ready to let my voice be heard. 

I'll share my insights along the way - from shitty first drafts to polished prose; to challenges and triumphs and those well timed aha's! Sit down and buckle up, this is sure to be a wild ride.

The Academy's Apex

I struggled on the hill today up the Academy. Actually, I struggle every time I climb that hill. My legs felt like they were going to explode and the group just rode away like I was standing still. I contemplated turning around for a brief second and riding out the North Gate. No one would know except me.  I looked up the hill and saw other people struggling in the wind and thought this is making me stronger.

I may not be the fastest. I may not be the strongest. But today I brought my best. And that's all you can hope for.

I crested the hill happy I didn't quit, happy I struggled. If it were easy I wouldn't be doing it. I love the challenge. I love pushing myself to my physical and mental limits to learn how I can grow and go faster as a cyclist and as a person.

Plus, what goes up must come down. And I am addicted to speed. I love moving quickly through space and time, zooming downhill inches away from other riders and picking the right wheel and line to the sprint point. Balancing the fine line between risk and reward.

It's important to practice your strengths and your weaknesses. Lucky for me I got both on today's ride.

What moves you? What are your limits? When faced with struggles, do you embrace them or turn away? Where's your apex?

November Notes

This short interlude brought to you by writing a novel in the month of November…. done and done!

A quick recap of what happened in the month of November:

Karissa and I decided to pair up for ParaCycling Track Nationals about 2 weeks prior. It took us a week to get her bike up and running so we did a total of 2 track sessions before heading to LA and won 3 national titles. Boom!

Benjamin was there with his Team Pursuit squad and got to witness it all. He may or may not have said, "I'd be okay if you never did that again!" after the tandem match sprints.

I am now a Level 1 USA Cycling Coach! Completed the course a few weeks ago and am stoked for the personal and professional development it brings. I have spots available for those interested.

I wrote 41,000 words. My goal was 50,000 but I lost steam in LA. Now that I know what it takes, I'll attempt it again next year. I did develop some great new writing habits - like spending 2 hours a day in front of the computer without connectivity. I highly recommend it if you've ever toyed with the idea of writing a novel.

My dad came out for Thanksgiving. Unfortunately they didn't get to meet my world traveler fiancé but soon enough!

Been reading a ton again - now that I have my evenings back from writing (though not for long. I committed to finishing my memoir in 6 months)… "Mindset" by Carol Dweck is really good. My library queue has "Good to Great," "Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination and Invigorates the Soul," "Jab, Jab, Jab, Right Hook," and "How to Write Short: Word Craft for Fast Times."

Chasing Tandem Dreams

My palms are sweaty and I'm thankful for long fingered gloves. The aero bars on the tandem are slick and any added moisture could cause big problems. I don't want to risk it.

We take to the track, winding up our speed to gradually enter the banked track on the back straight. Although I've done countless revolutions on the LA Velodrome, being out on a tandem is new. And frightening. I'm not just responsible for my own well being, I now guide my stoker through space and time. She follows my movements and cues, pedaling through the turns and holding on for dear life.

I relax. The bike tracks smoothly through the turns.

I've got this, I tell myself. I know she'll feel my hesitation, my twitches, my fears. When I relax the bike goes in the straight line. We wind up our speed at the top of the track, and I push back the reality of how far we would fall if something went wrong. Down we dive, taking a straight line from corner 4 into corner 1. Our speed increases like a mac truck, legs pumping like pistons as we tick off laps. I dial us onto the sprinters line, not moving outside even as the turns pull the bike up track. The black line is the shortest distance around the track and I am determined to stick to it and not stray.

I smile the more we practice. Moments come more and more frequently where I feel like I'm on the bike by myself. Our movements are synched up. We are strongly pushing 300 pounds through the air, chasing lap times and dreams.

I love chasing dreams.

How did you spend your weekend?

Spent the day with Benjamin up at Buffalo Creek, CO on our 29" mountain bikes. It was one of those perfect late fall days, where you could get away with no knee warmers and slip down arm warmers. The trails cross three wild fire scars from 1996, 2000 and 2001. The area is slowly and I mean slowly, renewing itself.

We stopped at the top of one of the first climbs and he looked at me, one leg unclipped as he balanced on his bike. "I love being able to share this with you."

My heart soared. "And I with you."

I am so thankful for the moments we spend together.

While waiting for some uphill traffic I snapped this photo. I love me some Colorado blue sky!

The single track is fantastic. Nothing crazy technical, except for the one downhill run we took were we had to hike a bike more than we rode it. Thankfully we intercepted some downhillers that were finishing the section we had just hiked up and told us to turn around.

You could easily spend a weekend up here, playing on single track and exploring the area, figuring out which trails link up the best with others. Summed up in one word? Gratitude.

All roads lead to Chinatown.

You wouldn't guess by looking at me, but Chinese/Hawaiian ancestry runs through my blood. It's on my mother's father's side of the family. Immigrants to Hawaii long ago and a blend with the locals, the family made its way by owning a full service laundry mat (well before washer and driers were invented) and some real estate. My two front teeth are scooped - a little trickle down affect of my asian blood. But then again, you couldn't tell by looking at me.

I joined my mom in Honolulu this week to clean out my grandmother's house. Gam, my grandmother, passed this last March at the ripe age of 96. She lived in Nu'uanu Pali, up the mountain from downtown Honolulu, the last stop before crossing over to Kailua side. Gam and my grandfather bought this brand new house in 1955. The covered car porch and gate has four Chinese emblems built in. I only just found out on this trip they mean happiness.

Happiness, indeed.

The house sold after 22 offers in a week. It is a gem. A nice big lot in the rain forest, just a few miles from downtown.

We've been cleaning out decades of treasures: wooden bowls, bone china from the kitchen cupboards, the occasional cockroach stuck to the cabinet floor, books filled with notes, old slides, ice picks, you name it. It's like living someone's life in reverse. You can tell a lot about someone by what they keep and what they don't have around. Old sewing machines from a time when if you wanted new clothes, you had to make them. Gam had every kind of twine you can imagine - old fishing line on a spool bigger than your thigh and small hemp that bound her boxes of Christmas ornaments. Dowels in every width and length, ready for any project she might think up.

We also had to sell her car: a 1996 Acura with less than 40,000 miles on it. We listed it on Craigslist and had a dozen responses in an hour. The couple that came up to Nu'uanu met us that afternoon. We could barely understand one another - their English was choppy and our Mandarin nonexistent. We managed to make plans to meet the following day at the DMV to transfer the title and then deliver the car to Milikini street. Mom had to get one of her trustee documents notarized and the wife drove her into Chinatown into some back street and had her climb four flights of stairs into some dark office. The notary didn't speak a lick of English and the entire transaction was completed in Chinese.

Business transaction complete, I followed my mom who followed the wife back through China Town. We drove past where my grandmother's funeral was, past the noodle shops, past the mauna pua factories. We could've taken a quicker, more direct route. But for this lady, all roads lead to Chinatown.

GET A BIKE FIT.

We spent close to five hours working on my position on the bike. No leaf unturned, Colby methodically inspected every aspect of how I rode my bike. Cleat position in relation to how my feet function, handle bar position, hood position, saddle height, saddle position, the saddle itself, and attention toward my flexibility and mobility as an athlete. No leaf unturned.

The biggest transformation? Pelvic tilt. I had been sitting back in my saddle to protect my soft tissue. Now I'm sitting forward, and lengthening my spine which flattens my back out. I increased my stem length from a baby 80 mm to 110mm. HUGE DIFFERENCE.

I rode four hours the next day and felt amazing. No pain. No tightness. No foot pain or strain. Just put my head down and pounded out the miles. The sun definitely helped - and the fact we didn't have to wear arm warmers. It's so nice not having to think about what hurts or what you tolerate on the bike when you ride.

If you haven't had a proper bike fit - what are you waiting for? If you knew you could increase your comfort and power on the bike ten fold by spending some dollars on improving your position - then why haven't you? And if you want the best - Colby is fantastic.

After moving things around, I may or may not have said "Oh sheeeeiiiitttt. Those bizzos are in trouble."