Guess where I am!

On my way to St. Louis on New Years Eve, I had a three-hour layover in Chicago.  Apparently, so many people go through O'Hare airport that they have a website dedicated to layover Chicago-style.  Did you know that one of the largest mounted dinosaurs in the world is a Brachiosaurus standing 72 ft. tall in Terminal 1?  I do... now.

Self-portrait with dinosaur legs.

Don't look now, but you're standing under a Brachiosaurus!

I managed to strand myself during lunchtime... and $11 dollars bought me a cup of squash soup and a latte (liquid lunch :-).  But, the sun was streaming through the windows on an extremely bright and crisp Illinoisian afternoon, and I chose to snack in the sun on an artist bench near my gate.  My benchmate turned out to be as much of a people person as I am and within seconds of me sitting down, we were deep in conversation.  We talked about politics, where we were traveling to and from, what put us in Chicago of all places, jobs, family, the state of the world, education, literature, where to get a good beer, where to get a good wine, where to get the best Cajun food in the French Quarter.... Turns out she was raised in Michigan, but was a long time resident of New Orleans.  Even evacuated herself during Katrina.  She taught at a charter magnet school and we chatted a lot about the challenges still facing the area.  It was a major bummer when they started to board my plane... sadly, she was stranded by a mechanical until 8:3o PM.  I hope she made it to her family in time for the ball drop.

About New Years:  It was fantastic to greet my parents in St. Lou.  We slid right into the familiar roles as we made dinner, ate, chatted, cleaned up the dishes, nearly came to blows in a political conversation, cleared the table, played a game of Shang-hai (a tricky card game that has been in the family since before I was born)... and finally settled down to watch Ghosttown (hilarious!).  We decided to go to bed shortly after that, well before midnight.  I think we all wanted 2008 to end as soon as possible.  Funny thing is, almost every friend I talked to spent New Years at home with closest loved ones and oft went to bed early... Maybe we were all a little tired of 2008.

Welcome 2009!

Swimming the Days of Christmas

I continued to get a jump on my New Years' resolution this week, though I am still undecided about the "A" race (see side panel and vote... Eric, I'm seriously considering Twin Cities Marathon!).  Having Christmas in the middle of it was both a blessing and an even better blessing.

This week's training went something like this:

Four soggy runs,

Three dog walks,

Two Splish Swims,

and an easy spi-in on my trainer.

The snow finally let up, but the rain kept at it.  I fortunately avoided a major soaking.  But the trails were so muddy, that I was forced to stick to the bike paths.  Even so, I managed to get really dirty on Tuesday stomping in the puddles along the Philomath bike path (glorious).

The weeks marquee event was an attempt on the Twelve Swims of Christmas with the CBATS (Corvallis Bad-a$$ Team of Swimmers) on Christmas Eve.  Complete with my new Splish suit and matching lid.  The swim went something like this:

Start with 25 yards of fly.  Then do 50 yds of back, 25 yds of fly.  Next comes 75 yds of breast, 50 yds of back, and 25 yds of fly.  Each addition is unique that vary from combinations of stoke, IMs, all freestyle, or choice with the 12th addition being 300 yds.  If you get through the whole thing at once it is 9100 yds.  We made it through day 8 (3000 yds) during the lunch break before having to get back to work.  Monday we are going to attempt to finish it off, though I'm pretty sure 6100 yds of swimming isn't on my training plan tomorrow.  Let me look.  Yup, not on the training plan.

The A race

I couldn't take it anymore. The week off is officially over. I woke up on Friday morning (after accidently sleeping in... that was some good sleep) to a gloriously unusual sunny morning that boasted a fresh blanket of white stuff (snow). The roads beckoned. And so it was without hesitation that I ended my off-week, threw on some tights, secured my YakTrax over my brand spanking new Brooks Adrenaline GTSes, and literally bounded out the door.

The bounding lasted for about 20 seconds before I realized that bounding is hard work, and I settled into a regular running pace. Now, don't worry. I kept it easy. After all, it has been five days since my last run (also in the snow... are we sure I live in Corvallis???). Even with only that short bit, I doubt I have run 26.2 miles total since the Silverman Triathlon Marathon Chapter in my running season.

This particular run was only 30 minutes long (excuse: I had to get to work, and I ran out of road... tragedies). But, it felt really, really good. After I added a little coffee to my body and ten minutes of yoga, I felt like I had taken happy pills.

Proof that the sun shines in the winter in Corvallis:

I call this image "Pink flamer". It has so many fun meanings... but the tree looks like it is consumed by pink fire when backlit by the sunshine.

The Memorial Center on campus bathed in snowshine.

Today's run officially kicks off (drumroll, please) Sunny's Super Spectacular Week of Pre-New Year New Year's Resolution Training (SSSW of PNYNYRT). I'm getting a head start on it since last year I failed so miserably at my New Year's Resolution (Do one pull-up)... don't laugh. This has been my NYR for the past three years. If it ain't happened yet, it ain't happenin' at all. Why one? If you are ever hanging off a cliff, or a tall building, you only have to pull your body weight up once in order not to die. Since this scenario is extremely unlikely, it's time for a new NYR.

What is this year's NYR going to be? To actually train and peak for an A race. The jury is still out on which race will actually be the A race (or races...), but candidates include Wildflower Half-Iron distance (May 3), Lake Stevens 70.3 (Aug. 16), and, if I am lucky to be asked again, the Silverman Triathlon Marathon leg (it and I have a score to settle that I think a little preparation might fix). Other potential races include Escape from Alcatraz (my one reason for becoming a pro triathlete, that and getting to put my name on the butt of my Splish suits) or Boise 70.3 (physically impossible for me to do both as they are on the same week-end of June 13-14). The advantage of doing Boise 70.3 here would be that I would have two shots this season to qualify for the World 70.3 Championships again (I qualified in 2006 but had to pull out because of bad ankle sprain six weeks out). The disadvantage to this is that I might jump into Pacific Crest again (had so much fun there last year) and that would make four, maybe five if you count Worlds, 70.3 races on the year. Other deciding factors: Sharks, water temperatures, and potential for awesomeness (I'm good at sand ladders).

Long and short, or long or short of it: I can't decide.

Do me a favor: vote for which race you think should be my A race (the poll will be up until 12:01am January 1, 2009)... or add a suggestion in the comment section. And just to preempt Kerri, A & E, and Amanda, notice that Ironman Canada is not on the list.

Merry Christmas Cookies!

Getting over the hump

Weather:  Freezing and determined to make me fall on my butt.

Roads:  Icy, with patches of asphalt.

Motivation:  -6, that's how many degrees Fahrenheit below freezing it is.

Plus side:  It is my total off week!  No biking (could only do it on a trainer anyway).  No running (also on a trainer unless I want to fire-up the yak-trax).  Swimming, best described as "floating" or "hot-tubbing".

Car: Warming up waiting for me to drive it in.  Normally, I'm no sissy about bike-commuting, but my God,  I "rode" my bike home from work on Monday and I crashed twice.  One crash sent my bike careening across an ice sheet and me doing my best interpretation of the Road-runner as the cleats on my bike shoes desperately tried to find purchase.

Pink is the new green

What is a single, 29-going-on-29 woman supposed to do on a Friday night in a town devoid of single people? Run for the Borders.

I’ve never met a bookstore I didn’t like.  Local bookshops, national chains, hole-in-the-wall dusty jackets, paper-scented superstores filled with the sounds of cracking book bindings.  I like them whichever way they come: used, new, or slightly abused.  And with Christmas coming, I was looking for a little holiday cheer.  Streaming “Swingin’ Christmas” all day on Pandora helped a little, but I needed some gift shopping.

Enter the slightly silly, eclectic offerings of the Paperie section.  Picture this, I'm thinking, "I need some Christmas".  I'm browsing the stacks of Borders Presents (employees offer their book evaluations), meandering along the best seller lists, passing by fluffy fair for the holidays (one gem among them: Stuff White People Like... hilarious.  Here's a hint, I am doing four of these thing simultaneously...  coffee, blogging, listening to NPR, contemplating my bike commute in the snow... that last one counts).

Aside: I would like to dedicate the following link to my friend Jeff, who looked fantastic in his ugly sweater... 

I round the corner of the "New in Paperback" table and there she is.  The tree.  Seven feet tall.  Perfectly proportioned.  I pass by and chuckle to myself "No way".  I wander through the calendar stacks, taking peeks over my shoulder.  A sign near her says "more sizes and colors in the Paperie".  I head that way, looking for something shorter, more traditional, less what's-the-word...  PINK!  Nothing else will do.

I ask the sales staff if it is just for show and they tell me that they only received one of the trees and decided to put it up.  I would be the only person in Corvallis, OR with a pink tree.  My first Christmas tree as a Singleton.  (Sadly, my first Christmas not with my family... don't worry, New Years will be in MO).  I had to have it.  They stuffed it in the box for me and accompanied me out to my car.  Three of the sales staff approached me while I was waiting for them to dismantle it, saying how glad they were that the tree had a home (this may be because they wanted to get rid of it, but one woman was a little sad.  I think she would have bought it if it stayed much longer).  

The PINK tree!

I only own three ornaments: a frog on a beach board (thanks 'rents), a singing Tweety Bird, and a sparkly, winged track shoe.  I added a few sparkly, silver coated flowers and butterflies that I found in the sales bin at Micheals, and strung up some green Christmas lights.  I have no Angel, so I topped the tree with one of the butterflies and hung an old, yellow, stuffed monkey from my childhood on the bike hook above the tree trying to catch the butterfly.  Perfect.

I've told a few friends about the tree, comments were varied:

"Of course."

"It's a Barbie tree!"

"It's soooo you!"

"It looks like someone threw-up Pepto Bismal on your tree"

I am now in the Christmas spirit!

Another race, another bruise.

I can now play connect the dots between the bruises on my shins from clipping pedals.

Two days of cyclocross racing at the Portland International Raceway.  Motocross bumps.  Hairpin Turns.  Sticky mud.  Slimy mud.  Wet Mud.  Even, dry mud.  Mud that got on and stuck to just about everything.

I raced the Womens Bs both days, but don't let that fool you.  There was fierce competition.  On day one, we lined up by race number (which turned out to be the completely arbitrary order in which we signed up).  The Beginners were mixed in with the Bs in the start chute, a narrow concrete straight-a-way that gave way to a dirt road and a muddy bottleneck entirely too quickly for my tastes.  When the start whistle blew, I was quickly wedged out of the lead pack because of my triathlete-like sprinting abilities.  Instead I tried to position myself behind a few aggressive riders thinking this was a good way to stay in it.

Bad idea.

One of the aptly named aggressive riders tried to put the other into a fence on the second turn.  I nearly took out two women behind me trying to avoid the frackas.  A string of F-bombs emitting from the downed rider followed me as I maneuvered through the cakey mud on this part of the course.  I couldn't tell if I was racing away or shrinking away, so unsportsman-like was her reaction.  But, I didn't have long to think about it because we hit the motocross bumps in all their roller-coaster glory.  I thought I was going to toss my oats towards the end of them... but then a hard uphill and a few hard cranks through mud so deep and thick it reached my bottom bracket and I was out onto the section of the course that most resembled the path of a giant paperclip.  It was impossible to gain any momentum, and there was an unexpected obstacle.  The Junior Boys were doing there best to take out the women racers.

Oh yeah, this was new.  The race coordinators, in their infinite wisdom decided it would be a good match to put the Women and the Junior Men on the course at the same time.  In sheer riding ability and speed, I can understand the match-up, but the 'tudes were polar opposites.  I had a few boys pass me yelling out "watch out!  Junior Boy here!"  You don't say.  Boys, join me at camera three.

You need to get over you compulsion to pass every woman in front of you.  We are all racing, and you don't hear me passing you yelling out "Womens B" in a tone that suggests that I think you should stop immediately and clear the way so I can pass you.  And it is entirely uncool to pass someone and then slow down.  In such an instance, I will always pass you back.  And next time if I hear you utter the words "what do you think you are doing" I'll shove my cleated shoe, up your a#$.

The circuit was 2.6 miles (longer than any other cyclocross course I have been on), and only 30 minutes was allotted for our race (shorter than usual, but thankfully so).  This left time for only three laps (thank god).  I managed to keep it upright and maneuver my way into fourth place.  But, I was suffering.  It was cold, and my left shifter (or my front derailleur) decided to lock up, on the big chain-ring no less, so that I spent the entire race cranking it like a peppermill in my best imitation of a wattage cottage.

Coming off the motocross section on the first lap... don't let it fool you, this is just after I lost the lead pack thanks to the unfortunate F-bomber.

One more go:  I wanted some sweet revenge for my riding-the-bumper performance from the day before.  I got a front-row spot thanks to my top-ten finish on day one.  My chain could now happily slide from the big to the small chain ring, courtesy of some quick fixing from River City Bicycles and some mothering from Jim.  And gladly to.  Day two featured a number of steeper climbs, a near-vertical run-up, and even deeper mud, courtesy of the warmer-temps.

I jumped off the start-line and quickly settled into a fifth place, but it was pretty obvious that among our group I was the best in the tricky mud... obvious to me because the women immediately in front of me decided to dive off her bike for a closer look.  I bumbled around her, but I had already been gapped by the top three.  We raced around among the-hairpins on lap one, before I caught up to them on that long concrete straightaway.  I tucked in for a little wheel-sucking on this section.  Immediately following, I made a move, working the mud like a magpie.  I emerged onto the second part of the loop in 1st!

I held that position, even putting a sizable gap on second (yesterday's winner) in the muddy section of lap three.  But, it wasn't meant to be, not far from the finish, I got a little excited on a 180° turn.  I lost my rear wheel in a rut, and went down hard (catching a pedal on the shin, of course).  Second passed me on the inside as I struggled to remount.  Without any time, I tried hard to recruit my small amount of fast-twitch muscle to catch her, but it was not to be.  I finished it out in 2nd place... but I managed to get a little wood:

Season Finale!

Well, this is interesting. I am on the eve of my last race of the season. That's right. I will not be racing again (after Sunday's debauchery) until at least Jan.1 (There is the possibility of a New Year's Resolution Run).

Tomorrow, Heather and I will be racing cyclocross at the US Grand Prix of Cyclocross, Portland Cup, taking on the Bs... Me in the Women's B race and She in the B-ginners (she won't race me). The Felt is primed and ready to go, complete with new AlphaQ Kick-ass Fork (that is the official name that I have given it) and a re-cabling courtesy of Full Cycles. Can't wait to get cold and dirty! Why am not racing the A's... Well, this being a UCI (Union Cyclist Internationale) race, the highest category I could race in without shelling out a $150 for a UCI license that would have lasted me until the end of the year (yeah, that end of the year that is occurring in three weeks) is the B-race. So, I don't want to hear any comments about sand-baggin' or posin'.

In order to prepare for this epic event... I've been running. Running up hills. But, not just hills... Peaks! Wednesday morning, I hooked up with one of Corvallis's fastest women (Meghan A.) to interval up McCullough Peak. Up into the foggy, drippy, forest, we hoofed it, just as the sun would have been coming up, until the last of our timed intervals took us within a quarter mile of the top. Well, as Meghan pointed out, you can't get that close and not go all the way up. I'm sure the view would have been spectacular except that it was FOGGY! There's a big surprise. Still worth it. We got to run - maybe, slide - down Innuendo Trail to Extendo Trail and out along Oak Ridge. Fun, Fun, Fun!

Today, as a pre-race workout, I may have raced. But, not to worry it was swimming. The Masters class I hook up with a couple times of a week puts together a Black v. Orange dual meet where we get together and contest Everybody-Goes-Relays (25m Free and 25m Medley) as well as a series of individual events. I played a "Floater"... meaning I was on the team of Coach Bill's choosing in case there was a speed or number discrepancy. For the occasion, I wore my ridiculously bright, awesomely ostentatious black and orange tiger stripe swimsuit. I got to swim the 100 Breaststroke and the Reverse IM... There is a reason that the Individual Medleys are contested fly first... it is nearly impossible to do the fly last after racing the other three strokes. Thought my arms were going to fall off. Good thing I don't need those too much in cyclocross!

What I do need for cyclocross, apparently, are nemeses (plural: nemesi? nemesises?) and victims. I found a rockin' site that tabulates cross results and makes a list of competitors and divides the closest into nemeses and victims. My closest competitor (who is just that, given that we were neck and neck until I ate it at Kruger's) is Tina. Interesting that she is both a victim and a nemesis. Hmmm... I wish she were racing this week-end. But, I talked to her after our last race and she is ready for a much needed break before her big build-up for next year's road season. It's all good. This week-end is all about fun.

Yo cabbie, give me a push!

It was very hard for me to get up and go to work on Monday morning... not because I didn’t want to go. No, because I did not get home until 3-friggin’-30 in the morning. I cannot blame this entirely on the airline. Yes, I can, almost.

The flight schedule had me taking off from Denver and landing in Portland on November 30. In reality, I took off a whole 10 minutes before the scheduled landing and arrived in Portland on December 1. After, I might add, the last shuttle that would have taken me to my parking spot in Hollywood (I love parking in Hollywood just because of the name!), a suburb in Portland.

Not relishing the thought of sleeping in the airport for four hours, I decided it was worth the $20 cab fare in order to get a few winks in my own bed. But me and cabs don’t really mesh (I got dropped off at the wrong place and taken on an expensive driving tour of Vegas last time I was in one. I also once had a cab driver drive 60 mph through a closed-off construction area in downtown NYC in order to get me to my destination on time... I thought I was going to die). So, my track record with cab drivers is not too good. And explaining where I needed to go to my transportation services provider, a.k.a. cabbie, went something like an Abbott and Costello Act

Cabbie: Where do you need to go?
Me: Hollywood. Somewhere in the vicinity of 42nd and Multnomah.
Cabbie: What’s the address?
Me: Just take me to the intersection.
Cabbie: What address do I put in the GPS?
Me: Just put the intersection in.
Cabbie: How will I know where to drop you off?
Me: Drop me off at the intersection.
Cabbie: Are you going to a friend’s house?
Me: No. I’m going to my parked car.
Cabbie: Is your car parked at a friend’s house?
Me: No. It’s just parked near the intersection.
Cabbiee: What’s near the intersection?
Me: My car.

And, on....we....go.

Looking back on a delicious Thanksgiving

Sarah #1: On her way to cook her first Thanksgiving (in the mountains at her boyfriend’s house), she picked me up from the airport. We pretty much went straight to my favorite place to eat, Wahoo’s Fish Tacos, for late lunch.

A&E: I hope they were as happy to see me as I was to see them. We sat down to a great dinner, with wine, and a little Kungfu Panda (awesomely hilarious).

Huffing for Stuffing, a.k.a Running to earn our turkey: A and I went for a run that both of us were sad to see end. Taking on the foothills in NoBo with Izzy-dog in tow (occasionally, it was the other way around), we put in 11.48 miles at a good clip, pretty much talking the entire time.

The Feast: The Lovatos cooked up the bird and the fluff and we all brought our specialties. I called my Mom to wish her a happy holiday and to get a MidWest version of sweet potato pie (all you need to know about it are two ingredients: sugar and butter). We managed not to set the house on fire (though we did try to melt a plastic platter in the oven... oops!)

The leftovers are all lined up and ready to go.

Black Friday: No lines and crowds for us. Though I did stop by Fleet Feet (to get a new pair of Zeals... thank GOD!) and REI. The remnants of the sales at REI were still good... got me a new winter coat to replace the one that only zips up 47% of the time (had to have something warm and breathable and water-proof for all that commuting in the Oregon winter).

My favorite sales pitch of the day.

Snow Day: We started with blueberry oatmeal and blueberry cornbread at the Southside Walnut Cafe (ummm blueberry!)

You just have to go there to eat to understand.

Then, we explored a new trail (Boulder has lakes???) and played around in the snow in the morning.

In typical Boulder fashion, the snow melted away into a clear and sunny afternoon.  A and I, couldn't resist going for another walk.  We went for a semi-night hike up Mt. Sanitas to see the Boulder lights.

The night-view from the top of Sanitas... That long white-line on the right is the Boulder turn-pike.  And that black area it goes through... That's Open Space, or the Denver buffer.  Long-live the People's Republic!

“Cross”-this off your list: I rented a cyclocross bike (adequate, but not as awesome as The Felt) and we all headed down to Beaver Creek to race a cyclocross race in the snow. For the record, racing in snow is nothing like racing in mud... that s&*t is SLIPPERY! It ice-balls up your cleats, and your pedals so that you can’t clip in... and it ices under tread so much that parts of the course saw actual pile-ups. I’ve never seen anybody go down as fast as A did on a practice lap. And I (stupidly) decided that if I couldn’t clip in, it would be better to wear running shoes (who thought that would be a good idea?... I believe it would be the professional Xterra triathlete, Sarah, and the professional triathlete, Sunny). I pretty much did the entire race without pedaling. Even got off the bike to run extensive parts of the course!

I-talian Food: A&E and I convened at the Pasta J’s with Kitty and Ivy for a little pre-flight warming-up (let the Merlot flow) and some carbohydration. This was followed by some gelato (I-talian ice cream... yum!).

Bacio, thankfully, did not try to steal our gelato!

We killed some time before going to the airport, by browsing at the Trident.  It was at this combo coffee shop/book stop that E discovered in the Karma Birthday Book that people with my birthday need to take extra special care of their feet and toes (prone to injury). How many times have I broken my foot? Do I still not have feeling on the tops of those three toes? We don’t need to go into it.

Giving thanks for a Thanksgiving to remember.

Oh No!

We always hurt the ones we love the most.

I have five "children" that I love, nurture, buy things for, take cool places, and play with a lot.  They are Dean, Nunu, Orbee, Tigger, and "The Felt".  Unfortunately, all the love in the world can't prevent them from getting hurt sometimes.

So, it was on Sunday night that my heart jumped into my throat and a rock took residence in my gut as "The Felt" became a victim of blunt force trauma.  I'll spare you the gory details and take the fifth to protect the innocent (and the stupid).  But, she was instantly rendered unridable, and I was afraid I would have to put her down.

There is no urgent care for bicycles, and so I had to wait until lunch time on Monday to take her to Full Cycles.  Johnny gave her several minutes of attention, measuring the torque on the frame, examining the fork, the torn bar tapes, the rearranged shifters.  In the end, I dodged a bullet.  The frame is fine (she knows how to take a blow) and all I would need was a new fork.

I promised her the most beautiful fork I could afford and she is currently being fixed up for the upcoming US Grand Prix of Cyclocross in Portland in two weeks.  As soon as I return from my tryptophan festivities, I'm taking her into the forest to celebrate... she deserves it.  And, Johnny at Full gave me a reason to smile again.

Kruger's Crossing Cyclocross

I had to escape the milky fog that continues to intermittently engulf Corvallis.  I think it makes my brain dull around the edges.

But in order to slip away on Sunday for Sauvie Island and Kruger's Crossing, I had to work all Saturday (Boo!).  But it was worth it to see the whirly white dissipate as I drove up I-5 and the sun shine on the cyclocross race as I approached the farm.  I was alone on this adventure... week before Thanksgiving, people busily turning their minds towards travel pains — I mean, plans — and turkey-centric gastric offerings. 

The course had a lot of everything.  Three two-packs (a series of two barriers in a row), a run-up (a section soooo steep that I had to get off my bike to carry it up... more on this later), a single barrier with a mud puddle, single track, a barn section, roadkill, a bonfire, and a pumpkin jump.

Me and 8 other ladies lined up at the start of the Women's A.  But don't let that full you... the competition was fierce.  But, finally getting to line up on the front meant I got to see what kind of start I had in me.  It was a doozy!  I was actually leading for most of the straight away (which is probably why I am laughing at myself in this shot, courtesy of Sosovelo):

Don't worry, I picked the wrong line on the first turn, quickly finding myself being passed by a paceline of swans while I wallowed in the mud off to the side like an ugly duckling.  I managed to work my way into the line in around 5th as we approached some cakey mud and the first of the two-packs.  I took the barriers like a champ and then almost face-planted like a chump getting back on my bike for the first time... (geez... it's only been three weeks!)

The field started to separate immediately after that as we wound through some tight corners, encountered deeply grooved mud, and the pumpkin jump (I didn't have the guts to jump it).  On the next long straightaway I started to catch Tina in 4th and stay pretty much on her wheel for the rest of lap... even gaining on her at the run up in which she proved once again that she is a "wattage cottage" (Thank you , John for introducing me to this term) as she power-housed (get it... wattage=power, cottage=house ???) up the run-up.  I, for my part, am able to slip my butt off the back of my bike right into a running stride and then shimmy the bike back under my butt as I approach the top (it's pretty amazing to watch).

I passed Tina right as we started the second lap.  She held my wheel around and around.  At the pumpkin jump, I again demurred like a spoiled show-horse.  I heard the cheers from behind me as Tina plowed through it.  On the next lap, I drove straight for the pumpkins, getting a little air, keeping it mostly upright as I bumbled through the jumbo jumble, getting gourd guts on my bottom bracket...

And then the third lap... we were about to catch third place and I must have gotten a little excited because I accidently inched a little too close to the barrier, clipped my outside pedal, sending the opposing pedal crashing into my shin just as I lifted it to clear the obstacle.  OMG!  I saw stars as I stumbled across the course, using my bike for support, and collapsing into the Team Beer tent.  I thought my foot was going to fall off.  I was yelling that I couldn't feel my toes (so true, but they were probably just cold).

The med attendant evaluated my ankle mobility, pain points, and the appearance of my foot, wrapped it in an ACE bandage and told me it probably wasn't broken or sprained.  Cool... So, I can continue the race?  Well no... Really?

With Team Beer and Team Clif Bar egging me on (I felt I at least had to try because I saw a guy do a whole lap in the single speed race using only his left arm — the other had a dislocated shoulder — by actually dismounting on the chain side), I remounted and finished out the lap, even managing a few one-footed hops, bike and all, over the barriers.

I finished a respectable 9th out of 9.  Not bad for a four-minute "break" in the middle.

If I had a $1,000,000...

I would buy a Mammoth?  Actually, that's not entirely true.  But scientists at Penn State say they could do it for $10,000,000 (See nytimes.com article).  It's good to see that some people are ignoring one of the latest activities to make it on to the list of deadly sins.

As someone who engages in genetic engineering on an almost daily basis, I am aware of how easy it would be to create genetically modified anything.  Think Jurassic Park.   Consider an Encino Man, but instead of liberating him from an ice block he would emerge from the womb of an in vitro fertilized of a woman.  Who wants to see a live dodo?

Aren't they cute?

Scientists produce genetically modified mice, pigs, sheep, worms, plants, and bacteria everyday using very similar tools to the ones it would take to do a mammoth resurrection.  Some of it falls under the "Wouldn't it be cool..." category of thinking.  But the vast majority of "GM" organisms are used to improve our everyday lives.   In crop science food plants are being created that can survive in deserts, through floods, and in barren soil. GM plants may also be used to enrich nutrients in the soil, add extra nutrients to foods (think vitamin-enriched bananas for third-world populations... a.k.a. biofortification), and increase productivity per plant (double the food for half the amount of land). Genetically modified organisms are also used as tools to study how genes work, when they get turned on and off, how they combine to make ears, hearts, spinal cords, grey hair, cancer, Alzeimer's disease, and even thought processes, as in the emerging field of behavioral genetics.  

But before you say "my genes told me to", think about this.  We have the tools now to begin to look at some disease causing genes and alter those genes in embryos. And if we can alter disease genes, we can alter other genes as well, some that may fall under the "want" rather than the "need" category.  We also have the tools, as in the aforementioned mammoth, to potentially regain extinct species, and not just large mammals, but bacteria and plants as well.  This gives us the ability to reverse extinction, bend the rules of natural selection, and turn back the clock of evolution.

The questions is not whether we can, but what would we do with it if we did?  And how could it be regulated?  First, let me say I am in favor of genetic and stem cell research.  But, I am also in favor of regulation of the scientific field.  However, thus far, the committees that have been convened have consisted largely of politicians, lobbyists, and religious leaders... what about the scientists?  Not that the former's opinions aren't good, but we should let all parties have a voice.  Let's discuss...

Until then, who's got an extra 10 mil lying around?  I want to meet me a mammoth.

Senior moments

Hump Day started off weird.  After dropping my things off at the rec center on campus, I rode out Oak Creek towards Dimple Hill.  Either I was in the zone, intensely focused, or uncaffeinated, but I had my first senior moment of the day.  Apparently Heather saw me on her way into work (honked, waved, flashed lights at me), and I never acknowledged.  I only had time for a short loop, up Dimple, down Dan's to the Bumper and 29th Street.  I got to bomb down Lower Dan's Trail for perhaps the last time this season (as soon as it gets "significantly" muddy the trail is closed to the two-wheeled... and it will be significantly muddy after this week-end).

Just as I was getting to the road, my front tire blew out.  Here I had senior moments two and three: No tire levers with which to get tire off wheel (I jimmied it with cold fingers and a flathead screwdriver).  And then, my chosen tube had a Schrader valve instead of a Presta valve (the valve was too big for the hole... I've heard that one before). Slapped the tire back on the wheel and rode slowly tubeless the three miles back to the gym. 

Now late for work, I splashed myself with water, got dressed, packed everything up... and realized (senior moments four and five... technically, these occurred before the bike ride) I forgot both my coat and my shoes.  I slipped on my muddy cycling shoes and shivered my way into work.

Work went okay for the most part.  I did some reading, answered some e-mails and set-up to finish off an experiment.  Because I was late, I didn't have time to get my coffee (majorly bad mistake).  Then I had the senior moment to end all senior moments.  I won't go into it.  But, if what I was feeling could have been manifested into actions, you would hear a large amount of "jargon", spitting, and hair-pulling, ending with me in a mushy puddle of tears on the floor.

Instead, I sat back, did some thinking, contacted everyone that would be affected, jotted down a few scenarios to fix the problem, and ended the day with a little liquid perspective as any responsible self-respecting 20-something would do... because after all, I am not a senior citizen yet.

The author would like to add a personal note that was added as an addendum following the publishing of this post:

Perspective sometimes comes with five olives:

Addendum to addendum:

Perspective occasionally comes with six olives (apparently I can't count either).

Day of Rest

Ah-hah! It finally hit me like a 300 lb. linebacker... that inevitable wave of fatigue that I was convinced would not be mine after last week-end's excitements. Following the marathon last Sunday, I felt good enough to stand for two hours at a Madonna concert, get-up at 6:00 am the next morning to catch my flight home, work late on Monday, ride in the Mac-Dunn forest on Thursday night, and take a two hour spin around town on Saturday.

And then all of a sudden, on Saturday night, I couldn't even drag myself upstairs after I got home from a potluck dinner. I slept on the futon instead (bad move). I woke up slightly creaky and cranky, and not convinced that my deepest desire was to drive to Portland and race the last in the Cross Crusade series.  When my ride bailed, I tried half-heartedly to find another, cried for a few minutes (I may be slightly hormonal), and then decided to make coffee and clean my apartment.

Well, that was the plan. But, I'm out of coffee beans, too tired to clean, and Jim agreed to help me figure out why my dome lights won't go out in my Green-Eep (unless I pull the fuse... not a long term solution). So, instead I went over to visit Jim the Toolman (seriously, I grew up around tools and this man could restock Home Depot). We didn't figure out why the dome lights wouldn't turn off (typical... they went out just as I was pulling up to the house), but we did reattach my door button (I can't possibly think of why it was unattached in the first place... ahem), air up my spare tire (it was flatter than a punctured road tire), and secure the interior panel piece that had come loose on the trunk door.  And I got some coffee from him, too!

Add some football viewing to this day, throw in a Quantum of Solace, and some chicken soup for my tummy (I make an amazing chicken soup, if I may say so... today's special ingredient: Sage) and there you have it, and there you are.  

Autopilot

I must have forgotten to take my brain out of the jar by my bedside yesterday morning.

After shampooing my face and applying conditioner to my hair twice, I left for work without my computer or my lunch. I spaced my hair appointment, thinking it was at 4:00 pm instead of 10:00 am.

I left my helmet at work the previous night when I drove home. I left my lock at home when I rode to work.
At the grocery store, I bought milk and bananas, only to get home and find a bunch of six bananas already in the fruit basket. Anyone need a banana?

I forgot that I hadn’t taken my whites out of the washing machine before turning it on to fill for the darks (the needed to be washed twice anyway).

But, I got to go for a night-ride in the forest on my cyclocross bike, my legs feel fantastic after the marathon, and the sun is out during an Oregon winter.

Tonight I am going to make a checklist for the shower and get it laminated so that I can check off each things as I do it. Shampoo. Wash face. Apply conditioner. Body wash. Shave. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. Sing it loud.

Silverman: Don't try this at home kids.

So, I am a marathoner (having now completed, two — count 'em — marathons!  When I told Erika last week that I had agreed to run the marathon at Silverman on the Splish relay, a scant four days out, albeit by taking it "easy" during the whole thing... she sent me a virtual postcard:

Especially funny if you consider what Amanda yelled to me at mile 65 of the bike while I was hanging out the window of a Mini.  Ear muffs:  "Sunny, you better run F#$%ing fast!"

What?!

To be fair, she was just over halfway of the hilliest iron distance bike course I had ever seen. And if that wasn't hard enough, she had some fierce cross-winds and a brief rain storm to contend with.  Understandable.

But really.  My PR for the marathon (if you can call it a PR considering I had only run one other) is 3:15:51.  I had no illusions (delusions?) of coming anywhere near that on the Silverman course.  But, I did want to represent and honor the faith Dawn and Amanda had that I would finish it.

Waiting for the chip in the transition tent (it was slightly chilly).

I took the chip-off from Amanda some time around 1:30 in the afternoon.  Starting this late was a nutritional challenge.  Normally around 2:00 I have hit my metabolic low for the day and am contemplating whether I need a second latté.  Instead, I ate breakfast at 5:00 am, lunch at 10:30, and started immediately with the caffeine on the run.

I forgot to start my watch and the aid stations were positioned almost exactly at the mile markers so that I kept forgetting to look at the clock to see my mile splits.  I couldn't really gauge my speed from the people around me because they were all doing the half-marathon... but I should have realized from the lack of people passing me, that I may have been going out a tad fast.

I was actually hungry during the first half, so I consumed a good amount of gatorade, pretzels, an orange slice or two, and my caffeinated Clif shot.  That proved disastrous as I took two pit stops and dropped emergency trow behind a construction barrier on the second half.  Sorry.. it really was an emergency.

At mile 18 I was running by an aid station, and I picked up a "coke" from the table.  I was so excited to see it had ice in it... but the aid worker came running after me to get it back.  This apparently was her "special coke".  She let me have sip anyway and it got me up that dang three-mile uphill on the second lap.

Also on the second half, my sister Shorty, ran a few bits with me... mile 13, miles 15-16 and miles 23-26 (and in all that, she only had to run up one hill... the smallest one).

Shorty cutting me off at a turn... I have to teach her to run as tight as possible (don't want to run a step further than I have to when it is a marathon!)

 I made it through those last six miles by walking the aid stations, singing Madonna songs in my head, and thinking about chocolate milk... which at that moment was the only thing I wanted to eat or drink.

With 0.3 miles to go, Ira, Dawn, and Amanda met me with my Elvis cape... a fabulous gold and shiny red thing that I draped over my shoulders for the final shoot.  Finishing was something else.  I don't remember a lot about it, except that Amanda got me two cartons of chocolate milk afterward.

On the way back to the hotel, all we could think about was MADONNA.  I downed some water, bread, and ibruprofen (surprisingly similar to my regime after heavy drinking), and a mocha latté from Starbucks (it was convenient and I loved every chocolaty foamy sip).... then it was off to get my Vogue on!

Prayers and Cares and Vegas Baby!

Monday, I wistfully stared out of the window of my office at the drippy grey afternoon. I needed an adventure. Cyclocross racing was fun, science was offering its own brand of excitement, and the election was drawing to a close. The national news was depressing. The economy was teetering like a man using stilts to walk a tight-rope across the Grand Canyon (I guess the latest casualty is the American Automakers… buy cars people).
What happens next? It is said that when the Great Flying Spaghetti Monster opens a door, some how it opens a window. And that’s when I got a phone call. Tuesday morning, Mr. Adonis himself, rang to remind me to vote (took care of that on Friday) and to ask if I would fill in for Rachel Ross on the marathon leg of the Splish relay team for the Silverman Iron distance triathlon in Las Vegas, NV. Sadly, Rachel was suffering a migrain and loss of sight in one-eye (get better fast, Rachel!  That's where one of the prayers comes in). I’ve only had one migraine in my life and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy… well maybe the worst.
A marathon? I swore up and down after the one and only other marathon I have ever run that I would not do that again... even under the best possible circumstance (it would be hard to beat the love and support I got on race day from Sarah, Vanessa, Joe, and Paul, particularly giving the cold, rain, and early morningness). In the end, it took six hours, numerous phone calls and preoccupation, more waffling than John Kerry in a presidential debate and IHOP on a Sunday morning put together, nudging from my BFFs A&E, and finally the humorous interjections of Mr. Adonis and the Goddess of Clean before I finally agreed to run (jog? walk? skip?) a marathon in the Las Vegas twilight on Sunday.
Dawn at Splish was fantastic getting my flight arrangements from P-town together (I’m on the plane now). And besides getting to hang out with her (and meet her for the first time), Ira, Amanda, and potentially my little sister, Short, we are going to a MADONNA concert on Sunday night (Like a prayer... :-)!
I was looking for an adventure.
OH…. And Change is on it’s way people…. Let’s do everything we can to make it happen.

You know that saying April showers bring May flowers?.... well in Oregon, November showers bring out bike racers. Over a 1,000 people raced at Cross Crusade #6 at Barton Park last, last week-end.

And after a solid week of our first real winter rain showers... the course was primed to be my first mudfest. I was undeterred by the thought of being covered head-to-toe in mud. The almost certainty of having to put in serious time cleaning my bike. Even the knowledge of how dirty my car would get with three bike racers in it did not give me pause.

I was excited about my new fire-engine-red IRD mud tires that I was told would grip anything. So excited, that I forgot the number one rule of race-day.... Never try out new equipment! That's for amateurs, people who don't know what they are doing. Like me, even though I race in the women's As, I am apparently still an amateur. During the race, I spent the first two laps (out of 4 or five, I can't remember!) getting way-laid on the turns because I could no longer use my ass to slide the rear of my bike around turns... actually had to pick a line instead! Easier said than done when the 2000+ wheels that have ridden before you have made their own quagmire of lines in the mud over multiple laps, and not necessarily going in the best direction.

But, I managed to climb back from almost dead-last, even riding up one of the run-ups and avoiding eating concrete when I slipped on a barrier (that left a sweet bruise).

Definitely could not ride up this run-up though...

Crazy barrier action... look at those things!

And after all that mud, I managed to get my bike back to clean...

And do a little celebrating with Heather!
Parting shot... The Finn-isher post-race!

Race Report: Halloween Cross

Made my way up to Astoria, OR over the week-end.  The farthest, NorthWest corner of Oregon and also the filming location of The Goonies, Kindergarten Cop, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III, Short Circuit, Free Willy I and II (but not III), and Halloween Cross 2008.  What's that you say?

One of the biggest cycling events that I have ever seen.... two days of cyclocross, both legit, one with costume all but required.

Take One:  Cross Crusade #4 Astoria

The Womens As were lined up at the start by cumulative points in the Cross Crusade series.  Having only raced one other in the series (crashing twice and struggling across the line), I didn't think I had any series points.  But my 12th place finish at #2 was enough to get me into the third row (of four) for the start.  I jumped in behind Bridget Stoick and Tina Brubaker, two people I knew to be really fast starters.

At the horn, 32 fast women jumped off the line for a 50 yd sprint straight into an S curve on wood chips and a muddy downhill.  I got edged out on the far right just as the woman in front of me nipped a cone and sent it into my drivetrain. I came unclipped on the right and ferociously wobbled, almost losing the handlebar, before righting myself and gaining control of the bike.  I was amazed that I kept it rubber side down.  As I calmed my racing heart I heard "That-was-an-awesome-save" from behind me... from the woman who would have eaten it along with me had I gone down.

And after all that, this course had more in store: a barrier in the middle of an uphill, five horse stalls with muddy 180° turns, a knee grinding uphill, and a bumpfest descent, not to mention the six-pack of barriers.  You could say I had a lot of fun... if your definition of "fun" is painful (mine sometimes is).  But this "fun" included every alcohol percentage point of the martini that Heather the Enabler had bought me at Downward Dog the night before, after I had already had two beers.  She owes me big.

But, the big news is... I finished 5th!  That's one point for the triathlete.

Take Two: Cross Crusade #5 Halloween

A word to the wise, if you race without a costume, you will be taunted mercilessly, hit with frisbees, and run off the course by another racer (I saw it, but that guy might have deserved it even if he was wearing a costume).  Not to worry... Heather and I looked awesome.  Think 80's aerobics instructors.  We were trying to pull off Jane Fonda, even doing a little "and-1-and-2-and-3.... feel the burn!" prior to the race.

The race was a blast, with a similar course to the day before.  The one addition was a mandatory jump that I nailed every time, even getting some major air on the last lap.  But the best part was all the costumery.  And every one should know that I love racing in costume.  It was a little hard for me to get pictures of myself on the bike, but I did borrow some from SoSoVelo, including some incredibly ironic pics:

Feeling the burn!

Sarah Palin v. The Wicked Witch of the West... tough call.

The Devil is after Jesus.

Cyclocross 2008 Video

Videographer extraordinaire and Super Fan Jim placed himself strategically throughout the 45 minutes of the Women's races at Veloshop Rickreall and Psychocross #2.  As a result, he achieved excellence in cyclocross clippage of Heather and I (and a few chasers) riding around the course.

I took the liberty of compiling these into a short video and adding a few special effects...

Enjoy!

P.S. Race report from the Halloween Cyclocross race is coming soon.

Night Rider

When you meet up at 6:15 pm at the Oak Creek entrance of the Mac-Dunn Forest on a clear, mild, late October evening... you know you are in for something special.  The vivid reds and yellows of the turning leaves fade into the dusk as the sun falls behind the hills.  Sounds of town are muffled.  And the only things you are aware of are your breathing, the crunch of leaves and gravel under rubber, and the stillness around you.

I rode out to meet Pam, Brent, and Christine for a little night riding last Thursday.  This was the second test of my new MiNewt X2 LED bike light, and the first time I would be riding in deep darkness (the first was just a twilight test).  I was a tiny bit nervous, but the butterflies in my stomach could easily be explained away by the 5 mini-Toblerones that I had as a pre-ride snack.

Pam and Christine were on mountain bikes and were meant to finish up at the cars, whereas Brent and I were on cross bikes and planning on riding to our respective front doors.  Brent and I took off first (Christine tried to ride in her clogs... doh!), heading up the Oak Creek fire road (becoming Patterson Rd.) for a little climbing and loopage on the forest maintenance roads.  Darkness didn't fall immediately, but almost getting nailed by riders coming down the trail made us realize we were kind of invisible.  At the top we turned on our lights and looped around to the Saddle (a point at which four forest service roads converge at a small parking lot and the peak of the Lewisburg Rd.), deciding to ride back and descend Dan's trail (single track) in the dark to get home and extend the awesomeness.

There were so many riders out enjoying the warmth of the forest, including boys from Full Cycles and several groups of two with dogs in tow (thankfully wearing blinky lights).

We stopped at the top of Dan's on Dimple Hill for Brent to change his tire (slow leak) and I was able to drink in the "city" lights of Corvallis.  And then here is where the fun begins...  descending down Dan's is a blast.  Descending down Dan's in the dark with lights (but not a head lamp) is slightly sketch but also a blast.  Descending down Dan's at full tilt when that light goes out... not so much.  About 2/3rds of the way down, on a section that I was admittedly taking faster than the conditions merited, my LED light went dark, leaving me to test the mettle of my cross breaks.  I yelled out "Brent" to which he responded... "What!?.... Oh!"  By the time he got back to shed light on me, I was already four feet off the path and in a fern.  So much for being able to feel your way in the darkness.

After that, I stayed close on his wheel, riding the rest of the way slowly back in to town.  It wasn't so bad.  But from now on I am going to charge my light every night and bring a spare. Jeez!  That could have been bad.  Bad-ass and awesome!

Let's try this: Jalapeño cheddar waffles

I was watching Iron Chef on Monday night.  The secret ingredient was cheese... any and all kinds of cheese.  I was fascinated... not only because one of my favorite foods is cheese (Gouda, Brie, Extra Sharp White Cheddar, you know, the good stuff), but because the Greek-American Southerner, Cat Cora, was cooking, and I love her take-charge, I'm-a-rockstar 'tude.

Cheese is also a great ingredient (as opposed to fennel or shellfish (like last night)) because most people like it and anyone can work up the nerve to cook with it (I am still waiting for the peanut butter episode).

That said... Cat Cora did something so cool, she took a traditional Southern Soul dish (chicken and waffles) and added some awesome.  She put jalapeños, garlic, and two kinds of cheese into the waffle mix.

I couldn't wait to try it.  I mixed up a ten grain waffle mix that I picked up at Winco Foods (the best bulk foods section I have ever seen... and open 24 hours).  I used the food processor to mince jalapeños, tomatillos, red peppers, and some yellow onion.  Combine these with some shredded colby and monterey jack cheese.  Three minutes in a round waffle maker (round is better than square) and a little more melted cheese and chopped yellow tomatoes on top, with green onions for a little added color, and... Voila!

It was so good.  I love breakfast for dinner, but this added a whole new twist.  

(In case you are wondering... those are Denver scrambled eggs on the side)

Home sick for Boulder

I know I talk a lot about the fact that home is in Missouri (and damn proud of it... Go Tigers!).  But I also think that "home" can be used to describe a place that gives me a feeling of peace and well-being, filling me with hope and promise and excitement just to think about it.  So then, "homesick" becomes a longing and general despondency that I can't help but acknowledge when just thinking about home is not enough.  I have a real physical need to actually be there.

And so last Friday night, I was so homesick that I watched Catch and Release, one of the worst films ever made, from start to finish.  It is so jam-packed with Boulder, CO references and scenes from Pearl St., Spruce St., the Boulder Creek Path and the Peace Park.  Of course, I dropped everything and snuggled into the couch.  And, I'm not entirely pathetic for doing so.  It does have some good eye candy! (I love chin dimples).

There is one line from the movie that is so dead on it is scary:  "This place is like a Patagonia Disneyland… Everyone is happy all the time."  So true!  And as the "daylight" (take this with a grain of salt) shortens and the rains come to Oregon, I count the days until I will travel Colorado to spend Thanksgiving with my second family (A&E).

But these bouts of homesickness are infrequent and seem to coincide with something... I can't think of what it is ;-)  And I have found that I am beginning to settle into my life in Oregon (finally) and have found pleasure in the most unexpected places... sharing dog walks with Marsh-mallow and Erika, twice-weekly forested commutes with Heather, racing cyclocross, the richness of the food.  And even the smallness of Corvallis is starting to grow on me as I discover favorite places to run, ride, get a massage, drink mocha on a Sunday morning, the best bagel sandwich, a hair person, running buddies, and quiet sanctuaries within walking distance of the lab.

Peace.

Race report: Cyclo-crash

Here's a joke for you:  What is black and blue and red all-over?

Sunny

After two crashes during my cyclocross race last Saturday, I look a lot like someone who had an incident with a cheese grater.  In the matter of Cheese Grater v. Sunny... I rule in favor of Sunny.

Why's that?  Awesome-ness.

I lined up at Cross Crusade #2 (Wilsonville) in the Women's A field with some of the biggest names in Women's cyclocross/ cycling in the Pacific Northwest.  It was the biggest cyclocross race I have been in yet (and #4 ever... almost can start counting on the other hand).  33 women in the women's A, and if you conclude correctly that the Bs, juniors, masters, and beginners were all on the course at the same time.... that amounts to over 175 women looping around a ~1 mile cyclocross.  

We all started together, after roughly lining up by category... 100 yds of blacktop pavement and then a 135 ° down-sloping right turn onto gravel, and we were off.  I took a position somewhere in the middle of the group as we careened over gravel, construction equipment grooves, miscellaneous hard-packed dirt mounds and wheel ruts so deep that I bonked my pedals on the sides a few times.

With 45 minutes of racing, I figured around 5 or six laps for the total.  I didn't get a good look at the course before the race, so I spent the first lap feeling it out.  Lots of technical turns, and tricky lines all over the place and only one really good spot to pass slower riders.  On the second lap, I started to move up among the field of As, at one point sitting pretty in 6th!  And then we started to lap riders, inexperienced riders who were obviously a little bit timid and intimidated by the race and the course.  Passing became extremely difficult, and in a few spots I almost rode up on riders when they balked at bumps and turns.

That's how my first crash "went down".  Hanging wide on a gravel turn trying to pass a woman who almost came to a standstill, I didn't have a good line.  My body turned left into the corner, and my bike stayed straight.  Only option left to me was Superman-ing down onto the gravel... a maneuver destined to minimize devastation (a.k.a. no broken bones or torn musculature).

After ensuring my bike and my body were okay (in that order), I jumped back on and tried to gain the ground I had lost.  Still in the top ten at this point.  I managed to keep rubber-side down for another 4 minutes, when at the start of the 4th lap, I again took a digger.  This time on my right side.  Nobodies fault but my own.  Now I had matching gravel-rash on both elbows and legs... Cool!

The gun show is this-a-way!

I took a lot longer getting up from this one.  Also having to massage my chain back onto the chain ring.  Thinking, not all was lost, I hopped back on the bike.  However, I rode the rest of the race a little more conservatively, taking 12th place in the process.  And still smiling.

To get a taste of what I am talking about with cyclocross racing... there are a few people who take some fantastic pictures of these events:

velodramatic

pdxcross

Let's talk science.

Here's an interesting question:  How does research on gene regulation in plants relate to cancer in humans?

A lot.  But I won't go into it here.  I just got back from a meeting in California that was attended by the 1st and 3rd year awardees of the postdoc fellowship that funds my research.  One word: Amazing.  We were a group of scientists that seemingly would have had nothing in common:  immunologists, neurobiologists, geneticists, molecular biologists, biochemists, chemists, medical doctors, and embriologists.  Mouse people and worm people and plant people.  Different, except that we all had a pretty common purpose: a desire and now the means (thanks to the donors and the fellowship award committee) to address critical issues in (for lack of a better phrase) the fight against cancer.

And I had another opportunity that grew out of this opportunity (along with nine other fellows whose research seemed the most accessible to the general public) that not many scientists get... I got asked to give an interview where I spoke about my motivation in science, why I do what I do, what I do (in lay-terms), how I started, and what I hope to accomplish.  Eventually, the interview will be used to show donors to the foundation the kinds of research that their contribution helps to fund.  But, I'm going to preview the interview before I post a link (just to make sure it's all good).

And after I couldn't imagine it could get any better, afterward, Carol Dronsfield, a really immensely talented photographer, made me feel beautiful.  For close to an hour, she and I took pictures around this spookily cool ghost house on the premises of the Marconi Conference Center in Marshall, CA... overlooking an inlet of the Pacific Ocean that was surrounded by forested hills just beginning to turn to their fall colors.  If I get ahold of the pictures, I'll ask for her permission to post one or two.

So, last thing, being at the conference meant that I didn't have much time (or hardly any service) to check email and phone... but I did eat my first raw oyster ever.  Shucked it myself.  It tasted kind of limey (probably because of all the lime juice that I squeezed onto it).  Next time I'll try and taste it.

And in case you are still wondering how plant molecular biology relates to cancer... it turns out that nature does not like to reinvent the wheel.  Meaning, over the course of evolution, once living things figure out an elegant solution to a problem, it keeps using it over and over again (with a little refinement).  The toolbox for regulating genes in plants is pretty similar to the one in humans.  Thus, if you figure out what the tools are and how they work, you can maybe start to identify with your tomato plants on a whole new level.

What do you say when...

It has been a hard week for my friends.  People close to me have lost loved ones, people I knew as friends as well.  Two young guys in the absolute prime of life, victims of separate tragic accidents that neither could have foreseen or prevented.

Both were in the middle of doing something they love, the same kind of adventurous sports that I do all the time.  And in one case, riding a section of road that I had ridden less than 24 hours before.

And so, for the last few days I have been wondering what to say, what to do, how to react.  I have been going through the motions of my life with just a little less oomph, a little less of a bounce in my step, and two less friends in my life.

So, in wondering how I could find a little closure and a little meaning, I am writing this now in memory of my friend Ed.  Also because I could not make it to his memorial this afternoon (I was at a scientific meeting in California and no flight could get me home in time).

I've only known Ed for a short time.  Our most memorable time together was spent driving 11 hours each way to the Wildflower Triathlon earlier this year.  Along the way we shared stories, tri-geek talk, his excitement over his new tri store (Northwest Multisport), how he met his wife, how I ended up in Corvallis, and the largest bowl of ice cream known to man from the scoop shop in Rice Hill, OR.  He took a great deal of pleasure in the day-to-day living.  He loved everything about triathlon, especially the cycling.  He was an Ironman.  He was a Husband.  He was a Dad.  And, so I will remember Ed as someone who loved to talk to people about just about anything and one of the first people who befriended me in Corvallis.

If you would like to help out Ed's family, an account has been set up for his wife and four kids at Dream Dinners.  Dream Dinners is a place where you can hand pick evening meals that can be taken home and eaten at a later date. This is a fast and convenient way to get good evening meals.  You can call Dream Dinners at 541-752-3040 and make a monetary contribution to Kay Bomber's account.

Also, I mentioned I was short two friends. Matt Chesaux was someone I knew as an extraordinary friend to good friends of mine.  He inspired many to seek out the epic adventure in life and will be hugely missed. To continue his spirit, you can make donations to The Matthieu Chesaux Memorial Fund at any Wells Fargo Branch.

I don't know if these were the right words to say.  But, I wanted to say something.  No need to say anything back.

Race Report: Velo Rickreall Rampage

Actual quote from the race flyer:

"Mostly open, slightly bumpy, farm-course with a woodsy trail"

Translated:

We are going to run you through the dry corn fields that are so bumpy you're going to need dental work and a CAT scan afterward.  The woodsy trail is so tight and narrow that your front wheel will meet your rear wheel coming and you'll feel like a pinball, bouncing off the trees and getting matching bruises on each shoulder.  And lest we forget... for the women, we have something special.  We are going to wet down the approach to the bridge so that you have ample opportunity to get muddy!

Yeah!

Sorry this is a little late.  It's been a weird week.  But, I wanted to get this up, as I have now officially competed in three (count 'em 1-2-3) cyclocross races.  AND, I threw it in with the Women's A field, no sand-baggers here.

I rode up to Rickreall with Heather, Sandra, and a slightly "happy" Jim.  We approached the hazelnut/ corn farm just as the Men's single speed division was getting started.  The course immediately made an impression on us as being not-so-much beginner friendly as we watched 

several guys attempt to ride down into the drainage ditch, work a 180 in the gravel and dirt only to dead-wheel it trying to get out of the ditch.  Hmmm.. we were all thinking we would attempt it the first lap and run it the rest.

Waiting for the start of the race....

The race started a little late, owing to the fact that the crew had to "build-up" the approach ramp to a narrow bridge after each race because the loose sandy dirt kept falling away.  Then one crew member must have thought "Wouldn't it be cool.. if we wet it down?  Then the loose dirt wouldn't fall away".  For all intense purposes, this would have worked, except they got a little overzealous with the water and turned it into a mudslide.  So, 400 yds from the start line, the Women's A field hopped over a barrier and attempted to claw their way up this ramp.  The first rider made it okay... the second, not so much.  The third (me) and fourth (the girl next to me) were impeded by #2  who almost dropped her bike on my head.  Seeing this develop... I put a firm hand on her butt and pushed her up onto the bridge.  However, my physics teacher would have at this moment reminded me of the law of conservation of energy, and I slid down the ramp in the mud and back into the barrier.

So, I had to let every one go in front me and then took a running leap at the ramp to get up and over.  At this point, I got caught by the Women's B field that had started 30 seconds back.  But, I  managed to stay ahead of them and pick my way into the single track section.  Both legs and one arm were muddied from this ordeal and as I came out of the woods, I heard one guy remark to his buddy "How'ld I miss the mud wrestling part?"  HEHE.

So, from this point on it was just me trying to catch and pass the Women's A field in front of me.... not as easy as you might think.  The first rider was gone... superstar, she would beat me by half a lap.  But, I put on enough speed to catch 2nd place around the 5th lap (out of 9, I think).  I got a little help from my teammates on the course who let me pass just before or in the single track and took slightly longer to pull over for my pursuers.  I attempted the 180 in the drainage every time and even managed to ride up it once.  I got major props from the spectators for hoping on the bike on top of the bridge and riding down the other side unclipped (no small feat).

The Finnisher demonstrating the bridge technique while Sandra and Heather wait for racers to come out of the single track section.

And in the end, I was muddy, out of breath, numb from the elbows down because of the corn field (and thankful I was riding 30 psi in the tires), and smiling ear-to-ear.  I love this sport.

Oh, and the next morning, I managed to run a road race 10K personal best at the Fall Festival of 37:39.  Yeah, baby!