Bellingham ride

What a whirlwind week-end! Canada and back in 3.5 days. We (me and JoeM) left Friday night for Bellingham, WA where we were to pick up a third OSU triathlete. Purpose of this adventure: they were both planning on signing up for next year, and I was going as an "Official A&E Athletic Supporter".

So, starting out in our rented Toyota Corolla, we crossed over the Oregon/Washington border and it was officially the first time I had ever been in Washington State. And the way I spent my first night in Washington State, you ask... huddled in my sleeping bag on the side of the road in Larrabee National Park, right on a cliff side that led down to a bay. You see, we didn't get there until 2:00 in the morning, clearly after hours for the camp site.  And with no other choice and wanting to get out of the car, I chose the open air!

A short 4 hours later, it was morning.  And with nothing better to do and 8 hours to kill in Bellingham before we were to pick up Stacey at the airport, we took off for a little road ride around the Washington countryside:

Aside:  I had browsed the offerings and downloaded a map off of mapmyrun.com before taking off on the trip.  If you have never been to this site, it is excellent for finding rides and runs in almost anywhere you could possibly be traveling to.  It helped me find rave runs in New Haven, CT and San Diego, CA during my post-doc interviews.  I've also posted maps of my runs in around Corvallis and Boulder.  And fora small fee, you can print off colorful maps with directions and POIs that others have entered.

So, the chosen run was meant to offer something of everything:  a tour of Bellingham, a roll in the country, lakeside vistas, and seaside spances.  And it did not disappoint!  First up on the agenda was a little coffee and donut action from a local joint with an obnoxious 50's theme that might have been a little too much for a morning coffee stop.  But Joe was happy, feasting on a Simpson's donut...

Doh!

After taking in sustenance, we headed East and South from town.  The directions I downloaded took us toward Lake Whatcom, ostensibly through neighborhood roads.  But, not wanting to pull out the map every time, we stuck to the main road and eventually met up with the lake road, sans twisty turnies in rural subdivisions and the potential for rutted roads.  The only time we had an issue with the directions came when it specifically said "turn right on Colony Rd."  Well,  Colony Rd. did not go right...left turn only.  That's when the new iPhone came out.  A couple of GPS tracker clicks in iMap and we were back on the move (I love that phone).

Way too soon, we were back on the coast and only a few miles from our parked car.  What a great ride!

Not in this life.

Sometimes a song captures so completely the mood of the moment, or a time in my life that I feel if someone were making a movie of my life, this song would most certainly be playing in the background and prominently featured on the soundtrack.  So for this week, thank you Natalie Merchant.

Oh, lately I've been walking all alone,

Okay, maybe running and biking.

Through the wind and through the rai-ai-ain.

I am in Oregon after all.

Been walking through the streets and finding sweet relief.

Coffee, sweetened with stevia.

And knowing that it won't be long.

I don't know that it won't be long, but I like to hope that something will be happening soon.  Natalie...sometimes I just don't know.  Is that okay?

Lately, it's occurred to me.

I'm tall.  I've hit my head on cabinets, trees limbs, and one well placed spider web all this week.  And to top it off, people in my lab keep asking me to get things off of shelves for them.

That I've had enough of that.

It's not that I don't like reaching for things off shelves, it's just that my arms are getting tired.  No really, the things I've really had enough of: dust, the phrase "reality TV", moldy bread, poison oak, stalkers, George W. Bush,  big box stores, the obesity problem, and hypocrisy.

And lately I've been satisfied by simple things

Like: blueberries, the phrase "It's all good", Facebook, running, Micheal Phelps' abs, anything on two wheels, voting for Barack Obama, friends, bubble wrap, the green movement (it really is simple), and

Like breathing and breathing out.

It comes naturally to me.

Never again not in this life will I be taken twice.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice shame on me.  That's the line in Tennessee and everywhere else in the world except Texas.  There apparently you can't get fooled again.   So for me, some lessons apparently have to be learned over and over again (like the fact that I am tall and my head is vulnerable to objects below 6'0").  Shame on me, because I've fooled myself twice, but three times a charm?  Or is it three strikes and your out?

(skipping to the end) Starting out from here today.

Today is Thursday.  I like Thursdays.  Most of the week is behind you.  The week-end is ahead and I am going to see my best friends and my new friends race Ironman Canada.  And....

Swear I'm going to change my ways!

It's all good.

I feel the need, the need for sleep.

I'm not getting much sleep this week.  With so many hours of Olympic sports, and being the equal opportunity sports enthusiast that I am ("I pull for rowers" could be an addition to my line of athletic supporter T-shirts), I picked the wrong week to give up coffee and ramp up training.  And Micheal Phelps, what an impressive.... set of abs?  Don't get me wrong, so far, this is the best broadcasting of the Olympics I've seen since 1992.  The online offerings are quality and the announcing skills of our own TdF loquacionist Al Trautwig and news comedian Karl Cassell add to the enjoyment.  Though, gymnastics could use a little help (can I get one more "a little hop on the landing"?)

Aside: The low-point of Olympic broadcasting was in 2000 when NBC showed the first 200m and the last 800m of the Men's 10K in which Haile Gebrselassie, who was unbeaten for seven years (!!!), went head-to-head with Paul Tergat, winning by 0.09 seconds, in a time of 27:18.20.  This was the closest margin in Olympic history in this event.  I admit, the finishing sprint was epic and fun to watch, but it would have been nice to see that race develop, especially as there were three other athletes right there, all equally capable of testing Haile's dominance.

Anywho, with a heavy training week in full swing, I got to yesterday with dead legs, 5 hours of sleep, and a couple of huge work days.  The training schedule suggested a 1 hr run with pick-ups near the end.  So, I went for a bike ride.  My black beauty (cyclocross bike) was itching to get out of the garage and I had been meaning to explore the fire roads near the "town" of Wren, looking for some new loops to make for the winter.

I peaced out of work at 6:00, and headed along HWY 20 to Philomath and beyond.   I took a turn up Woods Creek Rd. and went right at the first gated fire road I came to.  This adventure was brought to me by a desire not to ride on HWY 20 all the way to Wren but to find a back way to Harris Rd.  At first, the road was nice: smallish-sized gravel, not too many ruts.  My intended bearing was North and the road generally proceeded that way.  But after a half mile, two roads diverged in the wood and I took the one most traveled by.  This took me to a series of climbs that were too much for my 12-25.  I was forced to hike-a-bike up two of the climbs.  Eventually, I came to a - wait-for-it - a utility tower. Hhmmm... not exactly the intended destination.  I noticed an overgrown fire road continuing on just before the tower and, fueled by Mojo, I decided to put on my exploratory shoes (remarkably similar to cycling shoes).

This road, not surprisingly, started to go up once more, but only for a little bit.  Then it started to descend, and descend, and descend until I wondered what climbing I was going to have to do up ahead.  Also, the flora along the "road" continued to encroach further on my path, including those spikey, purple-flowered weeds, thorny vines, and chaffe grass.  I swallowed spider webs.   Occasionally, I had to switch sides of the double track to avoid huge tree limbs and sticks in my path.  Hidden in the growth were deep water ruts, one of which threatened to plant my head in the dirt.  A quick check of my phone indicated that were something to happen, I would have to wake up from my coma and ride myself out for emergency treatment.  So, I slowed a bit and rode more conservatively.  And low and behold, before long I came to a gate that opened up onto a driveway that led to Harris St.!

Because this had taken me well over an hour and I was still all the way out by Wren, I half-heartedly turned up Kings Valley trying a similar tactic in order to find a back-way up to Patterson Rd. in the Mac-Dunn Forest or the Lewisburg Saddle.  I failed.  And instead rode back along HWY 20, which ended up being really fun because of the huge descent that I tucked in to as logging trucks blew by me.

I managed to make it home around 9:00 pm, plenty of time to book it over to Bill and Erika's for a little tape-delayed Olympic action... and another late night enabled by caffeine. 

Race Report: Poser Triathlete races OBRA State TT Championships

How could I resist?  The race was only 10 miles from my house, 40K, flat, fast, a chance to ride the Orbea, my Pacific Power/Blue Sky cycling team is number one in the state... resistance was futile.

Initially, I thought I was in the clear, having missed the August 1st sign-up deadline...but last Monday, the Emerald Velo team that hosted the State Time Trial Champs, opened up the entry for a few more days, and I found myself out of excuses.  So, I signed up.  And come Sunday morning, after a dose of Olympics and latté, I donned my blue and green team kit, pumped up the tubes on the race wheels, grabbed Heather's aero helmet (mine is sadly inoperable... awaiting duct tape), and used the ten miles to the start as a warm-up.

But first, I had to run the gauntlet.  I've mentioned before that my commute to town goes through Wilammette and Crystal Lake Parks.  Well, this particular morning, the parks were playing host to the largest youth soccer tournament in the state. And my 8:45 am warm-up along the bike path that bisects the parks coincided exactly with the arrival of the tourney attendees, resulting in a frogger-like procession of people walking in my direction, taking up the entire bike path of course.  I was nice.  I proceeded with caution, keeping it below 10 mph and yelling out "biker".  I wonder that I had to yell warning to people walking toward me, supposedly looking in my direction.  But it was amazing how many near misses and not-so-near-not-exactly-misses I had.  So, I apologize to the teen-age girl that I buzzed who would do well to focus less on talking on her phone (maybe we should make it illegal to walk and talk on the phone at the same time!) and her mom who may have almost dropped the Starbucks in her attempt to confront me (news flash: I was on a bike... quick getaway).  And I do not apologize to the man that I almost hit head-on who found his feet way more interesting that anything around.  Maybe his feet are really just that good-looking.  I didn't stop to find out.

Eventually, I cleared the park, and it was smooth sailing to the start of the bike race in Peoria, OR.  Smooth sailing, except for the fact that I was running late, and therefore, arrived a scant eight minutes and 40 seconds before my start time... plenty of time!  I was already warmed up and everything.

The race itself was pretty uneventful.  I caught and passed two women in my category almost immediately.  I leap-frogged with a Poplolly a couple of times, and after conserving a little during the first half, I turned and burned at the halfway turn-around, jumping up to 25 mph and trying to maintain that for as long as I could. No huge amount of wind, plenty of bright sunshine, a limited number of cars, and a few riders passing and getting passed.  Even me - I was passed 200m before the finish line, but it was by a woman whom I had started 30 seconds behind of... so I let her go since I was still ahead (and dead-tired).

As a poser triathlete, I managed to eek out a 2nd place finish among the cyclisma.  The top three were all really close.  And I've always liked the saying "if you can't win, make the person in front of you set the record".  Well, the winner set the Cat 4 women's state record (and incidentally, so did I but, no records for 2nd).  My team also did spectacularly, successfully getting their names in the record books with state records and medal finishes. Very nice!

Oh, and I completely avoided the park and the bike path on the way home.

Moment of truth.

I hit my limit last night.  I've been going mach1, balls to the wall, overdrive, burning the match at both ends, copiously caffeinating, and pushing a hard gear.  And apparently over-metaphoring.

"How's that?" you say.  WELL, by working 5-10s, trying to get my house in order, keeping up with the tri training, and eeking out ever bit of awesomeness from the last of the summer.

So, taking it to the limit.  Last night was ladies night on the mountain bike, but only Water-woman and I showed up, and only two guys were there for the boys' Thursday night ride.  We decided to ride together, heading out toward Oak Creek, and thinking up which trails to ride along the way.  At the start of the fire road, we ran into a couple guys that the others knew (one of whom was distractingly cute, which may be why I didn't pay much attention to the trail plan when it was being discussed).

By now our daylight was fast disappearing, and we started up Uproute.  Out on the fire road, we kept climbing, and climbing, and climbing, before finally I asked "how much further?"  To which the answer seemed to always be "Eight minutes."  Big Liars.  An hour of climbing and we were near the top of McCullough Peak.  I could tell I was starting to bonk, I had forgotten chamois butter, and my nutrition over the week having been less than exemplary, was starting to take its toll.

The sun had already sunk below the hills and we decided to backtrack down the fire road and down the Southridge trail.  But, first we had to contend with the largest gravel chunks I have ever seen and more climbing.  It was mostly worth it to get on the single track, and I got to practice my root avoidance and hike-n-bike skills.  At the bottom, we climbed up Uproute again (more climbing) in order to descend down Extendo.  This trail is getting a little rutted with all the use, but the more I ride it, the better I get at picking a line, taking turns, and letting a little off the brake because I know what is coming.

We still had remnants of dusk at the bottom of Extendo, and so we took a side fire road up to Hocus Pocus (that's right next to Abra-cadabra, and Bippity-bobbity-boo... kidding).  More climbing!  I was devastated by now, bonking on all sides, and with a general dead feeling in all my limbs.  At one point, I just got off the bike and pushed it up.  At the trail entrance, Water-woman turned on her light for us (because it was pretty close to black in the trees), Boom-dude gave us some pointers on the trail and we descended into the darkness.  I have to admit, it was pretty cool and I am going to get a bike light today, but jeez, descending in the dark is a whole other animal, especially with my eyes cross-eyed from lack of energy.

I made it home eventually, had a huge dinner, and almost fell asleep on the floor. But I disappointed myself a little bit, I ignored one of personal rules.  Here is the rule:  When to say "no" and when to say "go"

When to say "no":

1.  When mental and physical stress overcome the potential awesomeness of an adventure (like last night).

2.  In an easy workout, don't let it turn into a hammer-fest.

3.  In a hard workout, when your pace starts to slip and you can feel that you are running on empty.

3.  When you're just not that in to it, being able to admit it to yourself.  Like reading a really bad book.  Don't keep reading just because you have to finish or someone else said it was good.  Trust your instincts, stop reading it, and find something better.

4.  When you are not happy.  It can be good to be a little selfish and make yourself happy first, not worrying what others think.  Chances are pretty good that they would be supportive and not the least bit bent out of shape.

When to say "go":

1.  When overcoming mental and physical stress will help push you to the next level athletically or intellectually.  I do this all the time on the track, at work, in relationships.

2. In an easy workout, sometimes if a run is a 11 on a 1-10 scale, it might be a good time kick 'er up a notch.

3.  In a hard workout, push through the pain, discomfort, hunger, whatever, and just let your mind go blank.  This happens most to me in the pool, and in races.  I just focus on the time clock, my form, 50 yds ahead and switch into autopilot.

4. When you are not happy.  Sometimes, I have to sacrifice a little.  It's like the moral to a Chinese proverb... how would you know you were happy, if you had never been sad.

So, I should have said "no" last night.  Thankfully, both saying "no" to adventure and ignoring my rule doesn't happen that often.

Aside:  Balls to the wall.  Definition: To go at full (unregulated) power.
Steam engines had mechanical regulators that consisted of a pair of hinged lever arms with a ball on the end of each arm, as the engine sped up the centrifugal force caused the arms to raise up closing a valve. If you adjust the regulator so that the arms go to horizontal (with the balls pointing to the wall) without closing the valve you are not limiting the speed of the engine.

This phrase only took on its current, slightly dirty meaning thanks to to teen-age boys, football, and road cyclists.  Let's hear it for the boys!

Rave Run: Gale's Creek, Tillamook National Forest

After the race, I hung out in Portland for the day, watched a crazy costume/flying contraption race, ate sushi, visited Powell's books, and then headed West for a little camping in Tillamook National Forest.  I camped at Gales Creek campground overnight.  My original plan for Sunday was to do a bunch of hikes near the beach, but since I camped in the forest, woke up to such a glorious day, and was feeling pretty rested after my race, I decided to do a little trail running.

Ode to the trail runner:

With shoes that are muddy,

and legs feeling like putty,

I plunge into another gully.

A frolick in the forest,

a valley laid before us.

And the camelback all but empty.

I speed past the mountain bikers.

Narrowly miss the hikers.

And still avoid the poison ivy.

The dirt and root miles,

full of footing trials,

and still I love thee.

With the end of the path near.

I kick it into another gear.

And exit the trail with a finale. 

Sorry about the bad poetry.  Solitary adventure inspires my creative bones (or maybe my not so creative bones).  Anywho, Gales Creek Trail was listed in the Honorable Mention section of the coastal hiking book I had brought along.  Probably because it offers no view of the ocean, only scattered vista views of the forest hills, and would normally be infested with mountain bikers.  However, over the winter, the area experienced a ton of flooding that took out parts of the trail and the forest service actually closed the most of the section of Gale's Creek that is North from the campground for repairs and debris removal.  Other trails in the area were similarly affected (or so I would find out), likely keeping many a would be trail patron away.

No matter, I checked out the trail maps at the Trail Head for the South trail and it looked like I could make a pretty sweet trail loop by running up as far as I could go North on Gales Creek, catching the Storey Burn Trail to Gravelle Brothers and University Falls (the halfway point), circling around on River Wagon Road Trail to Nels Rogers and finishing by running back to the campground on the South Gale's Creek Trail.

I packed up the 2L camelback with water, camera, bright orange jacket (just in case I get lost, shot at, run over by ATVs... what could possibly go wrong?), first aid kit, hand-drawn map from the trail sign post (see below), Cola Clif Blox, a Mixed Nut Mojo Bar, and a Justin's Nut Butter Cinnamon Almond Butter and Marionberry Jelly Bagel Sandwich (a.k. J.N.B.C.A.B.& M.J.B.S.).  And I was off.

My awesomely incomplete map of the trail loop.

Gales Creek and Storey Burn were gorgeous.  I wound up through the creek-way, up and over several vistas.  There were breaks in the trees that afforded expansive hill-side views of the forest.  Sunlight dappled through the tress, creating a scene with every green color imaginable.  Imagine a 96 Crayola Crayon box with only green hues.  There were purple and red and yellow and pink flowers dotting the forest floor.  The footing was mostly pine needles and lomey dirt with the occasional rock or root.  I had to stop several times to take pictures it was so gorgeous.  And not a sole, nor a sound not made by me or nature.

How can you not love this trail?

I came out of the forest to cross HWY 6 and head along the Gravelle Brothers Trail.  And then there was a tiny problem.  Well, actually a big problem.  The trail was closed, but it looked as if another trail off to the left may have taken it's place and it headed in the general direction of University Falls.  I had only been running about 35 minutes at this point, so I figured, what could it hurt.  After all, according to my hand-made map, the falls were only half a finger away (half a finger corresponding to approximately 1.5 miles).

The trail started off nice enough, but soon became pretty technical with small logs and roots.  Clearly, enterprising mountain bikers wanting to make the loop had forged this trail.  I would have a had a difficult time riding it, much less the ankle-twisting, toe-stubing, high-stepping semblance of running that I was trying to accomplish.  Full on 30 minutes later I arrived at a sign that said "University Falls" with a hand-painted picture of a water fall.  But, at this point there were three trails that converged... and my awesome map only showed one trail.  I scratched my head for a few seconds, realized why the guide book had stated in no uncertain terms "consider taking a topographic map of the forest with you on any excursion", and finally decided that after a solid hour of running, I would simply back track along the trail-that-is-not-named and catch the Eliott Creek OTV trail to the tip of Nels Rogers.

I didn't at the time know what "OTV" stood for.  But, I found out... It stands for over-sized, tank-like vehicles.  No really, this trail was mostly fire road and double track.  As I was finishing up on it and crossing over HWY 6 and back to Gales Creek, it seemed like the entire population of Oregon that owns an ATV had convened at this trail head.

Needless to say, I was super glad to get back on the single track.  I chatted up a mountain biker on the trail about his ride and almost ran up on two other mountain bikers that had started descending the trail a few minutes before me (in their defense, it was a hugely technical downhill for the MTBers).  All-in-all, it was a 2:00:07 run not including the few stops along the way to take pics, chat, and consider taking a better map.  Before the summer is out, I'ld love to take my mountain bike and my trail shoes up here again and explore some of the other trails, including the River Wagon Trail that I didn't make it to.

Race Report: Luna Chix Triathlon

A sprint triathlon! Uh-huh, that's right.  My first shorty in about four years.  I never realized that I had become such a distance freak.  But when the opportunity to race an all-women's sprint triathlon close to home, I couldn't resist.

The race was held at Blue Lake, scene of the Blue Lake Triathlon (I wonder where they got the name...) But, obviously, was only half the course, since that one was an Olympic distance.  And of course, every competitor was a woman.

I got to the race slightly behind schedule (having misjudged the drive from Corvallis to Portland again), and had to hurry to get everything set-up before my wave start.  But, 35 minutes, as it turns out, was plenty of time to get my registration packet, rack my bike with the duathletes (my rack was full and I didn't feel like asking anybody to move... had a bad experience with that one time as you may recall), goo and loo (a.k.a. apply gooey lube to my saddle, shoes, and body, and go to the bathroom), and even get a warm-up in the water before they called up my wave. I was in wave number 4 with all the 20-29 yr. olds.

Being in wave #4 means that three waves are ahead of you.  If you fixated on the obviousness of this statement and failed to take in the subtleties that it implies, I will explain.  That means that approximately 200 women were churning the water on the course before I came along.  So, within two minutes, I was careening through pink caps, narrowly missed a kick in the head, but generally avoided swimming over any newbie swimmers (I didn't want anybody to come out of the water and say "I'm never doing this again.  I was nearly drowned in the swim.").  I also looked a round a few times and was astonished to see swimmers spread out over a 100 yds in either direction, clearly not swimming in anything resembling a straight line (I could so help with this).  At one point I had to put my head up and do some breaststroke to redirect around a clump of pink and green caps swimming and chatting away.  As I reassumed my freestyle I heard "go blue cap".  That's my name, don't wear it out.

The run out of the water and transition to biking went like I have done this a hundred times...probably have between racing and practice.  Yup, I practice transitions quite a bit.

The bike was flat and fast with a small lump (I shall not call it a hill as I did not get out of my big chain ring).  I really enjoyed rolling out on the out and back course.  Really gave me a chance to test my top-end speed.  On the way back in, I got to watch the whole triathlon unfold behind me and I tried to give everybody I passed a good smile.

Transition again, just concentrating on getting everything moving.  There is always one thing in every triathlon that I could have done better, and a sprint tri is no exception.  I kept dropping my hat as I ran out of transition.  I dropped it three times!  I kept thinking that I look like a squirrel dragging a nut back to its tree.  Oh well, I had it in place by the time I ran past Erika and Bill and was able to give Erika a big High-five-o on the way out of the park.

5K... probably a little long, but not by much.  I didn't even bother looking at my splits or my watch.  I passed the last woman in front of me just past the turnaround and it was a nice cruise to the finish.  I even got in a decent cartwheel across the line, flipping the butterfly on my Splish suit head over tail.

And then my favorite part, my cool down back along the run course where I cheered and encouraged the other racers.  My favorite cheer today "smile like someone is taking your picture!"  It got some flashes of pearly white.

So you had a bad day,

There were tears, screams, close calls, and bodily injury.  I was late to work, reprimanded by the OSUPD, and "kicked" when I was down.

It all started innocently enough.  I woke up minutes before the alarm, made my bed, and headed downstairs for breakfast.  My French press grind coffee from Red Horse (Black Label... excellence in a brown bag) with stevia, and organic half and half was perfectly smooth and rich.  My steel-cut oats with yoghurt and fresh raspberries was delectable.  And I enjoyed all of these while reading the NYtimes online.

But then the trouble started.  I went to push back my chair from the desk where I had been reading the paper, the chair wheels caught on the thick carpet in my bedroom and I hit the ground so hard I thumped my head on the floor and my tailbone smashed against the back of the chair (the first bodily injury of the day).  I yelled out with the last breath that was pushed from my diaphragm and I just laid there gathering my wits and hoping that none of my roommates would see me lying on the floor through the open door.  Usually they can be counted on for not coming running when I scream (this does not happen too often, maybe once a month).  But alas, there are first times for everything, and Justin was nice enough to come to see if I was okay.  After making sure that I was okay... he then added "You are just too big for this world".  Huh?  I am only 5'11"  that is not too big!

I managed to recover, and eventually I left to go by the DMV on my way into work to get my new Oregon Driver's license and plates for the the Green-eep.  Oh, but a visit to the DMV is never a quick trip.  I had checked on-line to see exactly what I needed to bring with me to expedite this process... and I was armed to the teeth.  Birth certificate, CO license, S.S. card, vehicle registration, vehicle title, proof of OR address, insurance, blood, urine, etc.  NOWHERE does it say you have to bring the vehicle.  I guess that is just implied. Why would you go to the DMV without your car?  Hmmm.  So, after all that, I was able to get my OR driver's license (after passing the multiple choice test with surprisingly hard questions), but no license plates this time.  Since this took 1.5 hours, I had to leave it for another day, and time trial on the cyclocross bike in to work.

OSU is doing a lot of construction on campus, and it seems like at least once a week, the route that I take to get on campus becomes permanently blocked by caution tape, chain-link fencing, torn-up roads, you name it.  One night, I almost was taken out by a fresh barrier going home in the dark (with just my little bike light), bombing down a hill, and missing the invisible road closed sign.  

So, recently, to avoid going in a huge circle around to the West of campus, I have been using a pedestrian walkway... and I guess so have a few other less polite and more aggressive cyclists.  Because today, there was a huge sign telling bikers to dismount and walk their bikes.  I fully intended to do this.  But, just as I was approaching this section, in the words of Forrest Gump, "something jumped up and bit me".  A yellowjacket... all the pretty flowers on campus have some drawbacks.  It bit me right on the tip of my pinky finger that was trying to grab the bike break.  

I screamed, almost crashed, narrowly avoided ramming the orange construction fencing, and decided to proceed through the pedestrian section on bike, tears blurring my vision, and one hand clutching the other in an attempt to squeeze out the pain.  And the only thought I had was to get to work as quickly as possible to either put some ice on my hand or cut if off.  Of course, some well-meaning HR employees (the building by the ped area is the admin building on campus) had called the police about cyclists zipping through the area... probably the same ones that were yelling at me as I wobbled past them in a painful delirium.  

Low and behold, Officer Steve appeared around the corner, promptly stopped me in my path, ready to lecture me and possibly ticket me... I don't know if he would have, but one look at my face and I think he could tell I had other things on my mind.  He was really nice and concerned, offering to get me to the emergency clinic... mostly because my finger was in the process of swelling to twice it's usual size and spreading down my hand.  But, not recollecting being bitten before but pretty sure I would know if I was allergic, I declined the hospital, calmed down, thanked him, and took off for the lab and the large ice machine that held my salvation....or at least the ability to numb the pain in my sausage-like finger.

The swelling in my finger is down now, can't even tell I was bitten.  I only have a little bruise from the chair.  I have no ticket, a new OR license (with an awful picture), and I went berry picking again this evening.  And, it was okay that I was late to work, because, frankly, I work a lot of the time, and I was still able to get everything done that I had planned. And, best of all, I get to race a triathlon tomorrow. :-)