Back to the Green Egg...

So I was at the farmers market in downtown Corvallis last Saturday and looking to buy some farm fresh eggs and various other things. It was late in the day and a number of the farmers were closing up their stalls (actual farmers with carhart overalls and excellent country grammar). My roommate Bret and I bought the last dozen off a Canadian tuxedoed couple; a mix of browns, whites, and a GREEN one! I'm not kidding. I was waiting to write about it until I had fried it up to see if it was actually green inside.
No dice. And what's more, I could not find a single explanation on the internet for what would possess a chicken to lay a green egg. Maybe too much grass. :-)

A Green Egg...

This week’s theme was getting to know Corvallis in the spring time. Monday started off cold and rainy (the remnants of the snow storm that bollixed my triathlon) and Tuesday was much of the same. But the difference was that on Tuesday I discovered my new favorite pastime in rainy weather: cyclocross. A sport, I think, that must have been founded when a road-biker thought “Wouldn’t it be cool to ride my road bike off-road.”
It started when my teammates on Pacific Power/Blue Sky decided to ride their trainers rather than brave the dripping rain. So instead of joining them in their stationary desperation, I called up Justin, my pro-mountain biker roomie, and asked him if he was riding that evening and which steed he intended on riding. When he responded “cyclocross bike”, I agreed to meet him without any hesitation. I showed up on Tigger (my former tri-bike turned everything bike) at the Dream-Bean (a storefront location featuring a pizza place called American Dreamz with an exceptional pizza called the Bill Walton and a coffee shop named The Beanery which among other things makes a concoction called a “sweet hot chocolate”).
As we were heading out of town, he looked at me and said “This ride is epic, are you prepared for it?” He was asking me this question mostly to make sure I had enough food and water, but I think also a little bit because of my skinny tires, the road-specific components on my bike, my claim to be rubbish at mountain biking, and maybe, my girlieness. But I looked straight at him and told him that I had brought enough calories and smiled ☺.
We rode North and West out of Corvallis, around the town of Philomoth, and through the “town” of Wren within the first 10 miles. Before long we were on a dirt road and beginning to climb. We climbed in fits and starts up a forest road, the road looking less and less like a road as it went from dirt, to crushed gravel, to pine needles, and finally to rutted, stick-filled, tracks only used by the logging trucks. Many of the roads were not maintained and Tigger handed them all like a champ, only once burying a tire in the mud. We rode through moss covered forest, clear-cuts, and passed cabins (and one hobbit mansion) all without seeing a sole for 15-20 miles. The final climb was a beast, but the seven mile descent back to Philomoth was worth every crank turn.
I had such euphoria after that ride, that I didn’t even mind being seriously muddy and having to trudge back into work to get my bag. Added to the awesomeness of the folks at La Rocita who filled Justin and my super grande burritos with the rest of their fixings so that they were busting at the seams, this might have been one of the coolest rides I have been on, ever (added to Big Thompson and 401). I need a cyclocross bike!
To be continued.....I still haven't explained the green egg.

Albany Sprint Tri

I only have one word to describe this experience. Snow. What's that Murphy says in his law? If it can happen it will. Oh yeah. It snowed on Sunday in Central Oregon.

I woke up the morning of the sprint tri not really knowing what to expect. But when I looked out my window the sky looked promising. The sun was shining in from the East and the roads looked as if they would dry in no time. Even the temp wasn't awful for 6:45 am in the Pacific NW...35. So, I went to my computer to see if they had changed the forecast for that day. Nope, the Weather Channel still insisted that there was a 100% chance of light snow. And sure enough, while I was sitting there, tiny little flakes started to form out the window, becoming bigger and bigger by the second. By the time I put my bike on my car for the 10 mile drive to Albany, I was wiping the snow off my roof rack to get to the lock.

At the race, nervous triathletes were milling around the transition, bundled up to the gills, hemming and hawing about their foiled transitions, whether they should suggest to the race directors that the bike be canceled, etc. My feeling....everybody has to race in the same conditions. And my other favorite, "It's all good". I calmly set my running shoes in a plastic bag by my bike and added an extra pair of socks. I pulled out tights, long-sleeved top, jersey, neoprene toe covers, bike shoes, winter gloves, water-proof jacket, hat, bike helmet, and bike shoes and set these up in the bleachers of the swim pool ....indoors. My plan was to set a personal record for the slowest transition (a feat, considering it stands at 6:31 for T2).

The 750 yd swim was uneventful except for the fact that I accurately predicted my time and my two lane mates vastly overestimated so that I lapped both of them twice and almost caught one for a third go-around. When it came time for transition, I was able to go through various body contortions to get my spandex on a wet body. I ran out to the bike in my cleats and did some semblance of a flying mount. I rode the first 4 or so miles of the 17 mile back through slushy roads. At some point, I no longer felt my feet, hands, or face. The only people I saw on the bike course were the frozen and lonely volunteers at each of the five corners. Other than that, the only other person I saw out on the bike course had been way ahead of me half way through the race, until he went straight through a left turn and then I could have been the only biker out on the roads that morning.

T2 was pretty interesting. Couldn't feel my hands to get my shoes on. Couldn't feel my feet to know if my shoes were on. And had trouble finding my shoes because everyone had stashed their shoes in a white plastic bag at their transition! But once I found them, I flew through the run course. My old mantra "the faster you run, the faster your done" came back to me and all I could envision was my heated car and the very large hot chocolate I was going to drink when I got home.

But I finished my first tri in 8 months. And in less than two weeks I am hoping for an experience so night and day from this one that the only consistancy will be the word triathlon. Wildflower Half-iron Triathlon, here I come!

King's Valley Bike Race Report

Just West and North of Corvallis there is a tiny town called King's Valley. Tiny in the sense that there is a general store there and that's it. I mean, not even a stop sign. So, on an unusually warm and sunny Saturday in Central Oregon I found myself driving the Dean to King's Valley for a 56 mile road bike race attended by pretty much the entire state of Oregon and some from as far afield as Colorado, Washington, and Idaho.
I am still a Cat 4 racer (someone please write OBRA and tell them I should be classed up!), but at this particular event the race director decided to combine the Cat 1/2/3/4 women and eliminate the Masters category. We started the three lap race at the sound of the tractor horn with 50+ women on a narrow country road. Big mistake starting in the back as I spent the first 10 miles alternatively breaking and sprinting and avoiding a couple of women who were having trouble riding their bikes in a straight line. Once we hit the hills though, it was cake! Even with all the categories combined, I was able to stay on the front pack among the 30+ Cat 1/2/3 riders in the field, as weaker riders fell off the back. I even pulled the main field back to a dangerous break around 20 miles.
The course was mostly rolling hills with one mile-long hill per lap that came right at the finish line on the third lap. I was feeling so good that 2/3 of the way through the 2nd lap I had decided to start hammering that hill about a third of the way up and to see who came with me. My three other teammates on Pacific Power Blue Sky at that point were still in the main field and we had decided that Sarah W. and I would together try to make that push as she is a really strong climber (very small and lots of power in her legs).
But the race gods conspired against my plan and our field was neutralized for the entirety of the hill to let the Cat 4 men pass (they had started 5 minutes behind us). Bollox!!! That ruined my plan. On to Plan B. There were a series of rollers from mile 40 to 48 and I though if I was ready to go hard on these I could push the pace on the field and spread it out for the final straight away that was flat and fast and into the wind, leaving only a few riders to make that last uphill sprint to the finish.
We get to the first hill and I started to move into position to really push on the second (there were like 7 hills all together broken by a mile or so straightaway in the middle and lots of curvy forest road). I was sitting around 10-15th at this point. Then, on the second hill I shift up a gear to hammer and instead drop my freakin' chain completely off of the chain ring on the inside!!! ARGHHH! I saw my team start to stay back for me, but I roared for them to keep going.
I had to wait until I could safely dismount before fixing it and in the less than 20 seconds it took for me to get-off, fix it and remount, the peleton was gone up the hill and out of sight. I got back on the bike and started hammering up the hill. Seeing the field ahead, I realized that someone else had been thinking the same thing as I and had split the racers and in the words of Emerill "Bam, kicked it up a notch!" I could already see riders getting dropped off the back including two of my teammates. At this point, my thoughts turned to other goals, and I got down on my bars in aero position (yes my forearms are a little sore today) and decided to time-trial to the finish as there was no way with the twisty roads, wind, and final finish, that I was getting back in the race. Along the way, I must have repassed almost the entire Cat 4 women's field, because after all that, I still finished 5th overall. Can you believe it?
Stay-tuned for pics of me in my new race gear. :-)

The best part of my day.

My morning commute to work. This is not necessarily because I love going to work, but more a product of the manner in which I get there. Every morning I role my trusty stead, Tigger, out of the garage and begin 20 minutes of awesomeness. It's awesome even when it is raining. Not lying.
For the first two miles of my ride, I pass along the banks of the Willamette River. A fast moving, pleasant sounding gurgle accompanying me along the way. The bike path weaves through patches of moss covered trees, soccer fields and finally exits out onto the road only to plunge immediately into Avery Park. The jaunt through Avery is marked by several speed bumps on the road that make it possible to race the cars and win some of the time (unless you get a Ford F150 that comes along taking the bumps full on). Just through Avery Park is Oregon State University where I work, but since I work on the NW edge and live on the SE edge, I get to play dodge-student, weaving in-and-out of the dazed faces on the way to class. I frequently launch into the grass, hop curbs, and buzz backpacks to avoid them. And the stoic presence of academia (stone edifices, sweeping lawns, and the smell of books/coffee/outdoors) oddly comforts me and seems to keep the knowledge of political, economic, and social snafoo that is going on in the world at bay. I wish I could bottle up my morning commute in pill form and take it any time I needed a thrill pill.
Hope you have a part of your day that makes the whole thing worth it.

Friend request....

I have a new Facebook friend. Now this by itself is neither new nor terribly interesting. What gives me pause is the fact that I woke up the other day to an email informing me I had a Facebook friend request from Sunny Gilbert. What?
I had to log in to make sure that I hadn’t tried to friend myself. It’s true, Sunny Gilbert is an accomplished chef in Melbourne, Australia and he is my newest friend on Facebook. Now I have to admit I knew of his existence. I have googled my own name (admit it...you do it, too!) and in the results amidst the triathlon news and weather pages for Gilbert, Arizona, links appear for reviews of restaurants in Australia. I think he must be pretty good as I think he is head chef at the Vic Harbor Kitchen and Bar and has won an Australian Young Achiever Award for his talent in the kitchen. How cool is that?

Fall-out....

Folks, the water cooler is getting more than its fair share of attention with everyone at my work talking about the "bomb scare". It came out yesterday that it was me....I am, as the police referred to me, "the female cyclist who returned from her ride to retrieve the bag and confirm that it contained nothing but clothing". Some of the various stories that were passed around the office included details with different versions of the note, that the bag was locked to the sink, and also the bag was varying sizes. I didn't really feel the need to tell the story straight after that. Reminds of the telephone game we all used to play as kids.

And speaking about maturity level, my new nickname is Bomber-girl. Makes me want to get the "Da-Bomb" swimsuit from Splish. Excellent!

Thx....for nothin'

I have decided to write this story as a cautionary tale for naive and trusting souls out there who would never even consider that this could happen to them.

Earlier this week, a young woman was in a hurry to meet up with a group for a bike ride on a ridiculously beautiful early evening. Not having time to go back (in bike cleats, no less) to her office after changing into her cycling clothing, she left her overstuffed (jeans sticking out the top) drawstring clothes bag in the women's bathroom in which she had changed. In the bag (which bore the insignia of a local running race), she carried a note written on yellow post-it paper that said "Do not disturb, thx!!" with the exclamation points turned into a smiley face. She carried this note as a result of a previous experience in which someone had mistakenly thought the bag had been lost and promptly turned it and all her clothes into the lost and found. But that is a story for another day. On this occasion, she decided to use the note to inform others that she was indeed coming back for the bag and to please not take it. In addition, on one shoulder strap, a combination lock was fixed, not to prevent would-be thieves from rifling through it, but as a way to keep track of it until such a time when it was needed to lock the bag in a locker at the gym. This was the scene as the woman left it.

Upon returning from her excellent road ride, the woman was confronted by no less than three police officers. With concerned faces, they explained the situation, to which the woman exclaimed in disbelief. Someone had mistaken her harmless bag for an incendiary explosive device! Not only that, whomever found the bag had seen the lock and assumed (incorrectly) that the bag was locked to the sink. After assuring the officers for 30 minutes and promising many, many times to never, never do that again, the woman was able to change back into her clothing and proceed to the volunteering activity that she was meant to be at. In the end, the police confiscated the note, and the story was reported (incorrectly, again) in the police blotter of the local paper the following day.

Now, I would never presume to suggest the kinds of things that people should fear in daily life (mine happens to be getting hit by a car while riding my bike, but it does not stop me from commuting 8 miles a day by bike). However, we should all be aware that someone will see an innocuous drawstring clothes bag in which the contents are obviated by the clothes sticking out the top and jump to the obvious conclusion that it is a clothes bag, and someone else will instead fear for their life.

Hind sight is forever 20-20, what if she had mistakenly left the bag and not returned that evening to retrieve it (happened and stolen...have a feeling this time it would have been submitted as evidence)? What if it had been someone else who found the bag? What if she hadn't pulled out the note? What if she had had time to change in the locker room like usual? What if she had stowed it in the trash can or paper-towel dispenser instead of so cleverly in plain view, out of the way of someone using the toilet?

Let's hope that was one fabulous bike ride. I would love to hear thoughts or if anyone has ever heard of this happening to anyone else.