A case of the Mundays

Every once in a while, I have to take the bad with the good.... and so many times, the bad is a case of the Mundays.  Not wanting to run off to Chotchke's for some Pizza Shooters, Shrimp Poppers, or Extreme Fajitas, I've had to come up with a few strategies for surviving Munday, since I absolutely refuse to slow down on the week-end.

Strategy #1:  Transitioning.

Think of it like the transition zone of a triathlon.  Everything is already ready for you to jump on the bike or head out on the run when you enter transition.  Same thing here.  It always helps me get out of bed if I have already packed my lunch and chosen what to wear.  Bonus points are accrued if "what to wear" includes something in my favorite color pink.  This is not hard, as it has been pointed out to me by several co-workers and friends that fully half my wardrobe is in fact pink.

Strategy #2: Let the sunshine in.

The morning commute is infinitely better if it is not raining.  So far, I have been lucky.  The rain this year has managed to stay mostly in the sky prior to the actual last day of summer.  But, I fear (and this has been confirmed by that crack-squad of savvy-weather predicting personnel at 9 news) that the rains are not far away.  When that happens, I might have to trigger my stereo alarm to play "I see skies of blue, red roses, too...." right when I wake up.

Strategy #3:  The coffee drink.

Mocha Monday at the Brew Station... and if this isn't enough, they recently added beer on tap.  That's right, the Brew Station is a coffee shop/tanning salon/bar.  You know I have a special place in my heart for slashies.

Strategy #4:  Set the bar low.

Have a few easily accomplishable goals for the morning at work.  Some favorites with me include reading the News and Views in the latest issues of Science and Chemistry & Engineering News (pretend like I wrote "People" and the "NYtimes" so I won't sound so nerdy).  Also, checking my sequencing reactions from the previous week is also fun... kind of like a word find with only four letters....ACGT (and sometimes U).

Strategy #5: If all else fails.

Have an escape plan.  Also known as lunch.  Often I substitute sustenance with adrenaline in the form of a run or swim in order to get the blood pumping for the rest of the day.  Usually, a good 45 minutes in the pool is enough to get me hopping, especially if I hadn't managed to get out the door for a run in the morning (see Strategy #1... a run can be implemented by setting up the running shoes and outfit the night before... again, think pink).

Strategy #6:  Love it, or leave it.

Life is too long not to like what you are working on... Even on a Munday!

Race Report: Hood River Double Cross

I’ld like to thank three people for convincing me that cyclocross wasn’t some crazy excuse to ride a road bike off-road… one year ago, my exact thoughts were “why would you ever want to do that?” especially after watching friends suffer through an event last fall in Boulder.

Heather Paris: “Lady, you need to do cyclocross.”
Justin Finn: “You should get a cyclocross bike.”
Gordie Cummings: “What do you think of a Felt?”

And so like any responsible 29-year old single gal would do, I bought a new bike. This was after I took Tigger cyclocross in the Mac forest (some of you may remember this post as the one that prompted a total overhaul of my drivetrain/brakes by John at Full Cycles after I repeated, “I, state your name, will never ride Tigger cyclocross again.”) So, it wasn’t so much of an impulse buy.

But, I digress.

Double Cross. Double your pleasure. Double your fun. Double your Pain.

It’s always exciting doing an adventure for the first time. I remember my first criterium (and last), my first triathlon, my first 800m race in college, my first and only marathon (did I say exciting? I meant painful). I was a little intrepid about going to the race alone, so I posted to the Pacific Power/Blue Sky listserve for a travel buddy. And to my relief, I got veteran cyclocross racer Todd to respond. On the way to Hood River we talked about technique, strategy, what to expect, how he got into the sport, and organic toaster pastry V. Pop-tarts (this argument was a draw).

The weather was cold and windy, but the threatened rain never materialized. I prerode the course in between the single-speed racers, and by race time I had a “safe” race strategy. I had decided to race in the Women’s B category for reasons that I was pretty sure I wasn’t a beginner (no beginner owns five bikes… ahem, Heather) and I wasn’t ready to throw it in with the Big Girlz.  My plan was to start off slower, staying wide on the first turns and hang on to the leader only if I wasn’t pushing too hard.  And that is exactly how it played out:
The Women’s A field took off 30 seconds ahead of us.  I settled in behind a Bridgetown Velo rider at the start.  I tailed her through the first sandpit (tricky and deep) and into the hard and fast single track. I came out on slightly soggy grass and up to a “six-pack” or barriers (three knee-high barriers in a row) that I traversed without incident (thank you Tuesday night barrier practice!).

Todd showing some skills over the six-pack.

Around the back of the high school, there were a couple of 180s on pavement and then we descended down a loose dirt, bumpfest with a blackberry ensnared drop-off on one side and a descending angle 180° at the very bottome that I moneyed on every lap!

What then followed was a series on single-track: through a field, over a bridge, over a barrier with a run-down on trail stairs, followed by a bridge and a run-up on trail stairs (quads burning).

Todd demonstrating technique on the unusual "run-down".

After this I came out of the woods onto a deep sand/dirt/gravel progression and then dropped back into the woods for another bridge (with a nasty step up that could have caused a pinch flat), and a steep uphill into —#$%%— loose-sand.

And around again. I made the pass right before entering the woods on the second lap and never looked back. (Okay, I looked back a little, but only on the hairpin turns). In total, I never crashed, I only bobbled once (near the blackberry drop-off, where another girl decided to get a facial... OUCH!), and I had a smile on my face pretty much the only time, except for once when I choked on some dust kicked up by an A-rider.

Take Two:

Two races are always better than one, especially if you are in a place as great as Hood River. After a night of camping, Todd and I had a greasy-spoon breakfast at Bette’s Place (amazing assortment of muffins), tooled around in the Dog River Coffee Company (proudly brewing Stumptown), and checked out the surf shop. We headed back to the high school to watch some of the racing and see what the directors had come up with for today.

They must have been in a “twisted” mood when they came up with this one. A bunch of hair-pin turns on grass, a hard right in sand to enter single track, a 180° in deep sand around a shed structure, tight left turn in single track that immediately went over a bridge, a long run-up, and an uphill turny section, accompanied by a drop-off that I had to hop off or put a foot down on every time.

Powering through an uphill 180.

Cranking it through the sand!

The race went almost exactly like the day before, except the first rider got away from me a little bit on the first lap before I reeled her in. I was noticably tired from the previous days exertions and my back and quads were burning when I had to carry the bike on the last couple laps (6 total). There were more riders and more single track, which meant more passes and less opportunity to pass. I had a lot of trouble picking my spots and almost laughed at myself out loud when a Gentle Lovers A-rider (Erin) passed me and the girl I had been trying to pass all-at-once. Definitely going to have to practice those kick-a$% moves.

Thanks Disco Velo for putting on such a fun race!

Do it yourself.

Recognizing the fact that at some point in the last few months, I had gotten off of a happy path, spiraled into a bottomless pit of indecision, and felt myself swinging in a discontented limbo of my own making... I decided to shake things up, take matters into my own hands, let my hair down, and do it myself (whatever it was)....

Painting from an art exhibit at Powell's Books

I was semi-inspired by close friends to live the cliche (after all, that is why they are called cliches... it happens so much that there is a phrase to describe it).

And so, I moved, cut 9 and 1/2 inches off my hair, started doing track workouts, finally bought the AppleCare for my iPhone, switched coffee shops (Brew Station I love you for brewing Stumptown and your homemade scones!), and got an oil change (for my car.. mind out of the gutter).  I managed to stop short of inventing a new high school.

I also considered myself something of a Suzy-homemaker: I decided to re-upholster my own grandma chair.  This is a chair that has followed me through 7 homes, to comfortable to get rid of, to ugly to display prominently.  But in my smallish apartment, I planned to display it front and center with a new -ahem- "chair-lift" (think face-lift).  I've spent hours in the fabric store looking at material, online browsing instructions, at home with tape-measure trying to figure out how to best cover and sew-around the weird shaped arms.  In this do-it-yourself age of Home depot, the internet, and the independent woman who does it all, I never though twice that it would just be easier to go buy another a chair or just pay to have someone reupholster it.  What's the fun in that?

I have a history of do-it-yourself projects with mixed results:

1) Repainting my road bike:  a year of "Wouldn't it be cool...", three months of planning, breaking up with my boyfriend (had some time on my hands), $100 of supplies, two months of coming home at lunch to work on it, an garage covered in orange particulates, and I now own a bike painted like Tigger.

2)Sewing an evening gown:  pressure to look fantastic at a New York reception for my friend Molly's marriage (all internal pressure), too tall to look good in most dresses (they cut me off at the mid-thigh or the ankles and the waist is forever too high!), and a desire for something in plum silk.  I still have a half-sewn plum silk evening dress and as a substitute: a beautiful last-minute-impulse-buy dress from my favorite clothing store, the White House Black Market.

3) Changing my car battery... 'nuff said.  What could possibly go wrong?  I am now the proud owner of a new battery connector-thingy.

So, I'll have to let you know how this one turns out.  I've finally decided on the material... a reddish-mauve corduroy, and I've pulled out the sewing machine.  When I start this, who knows... I've got my first cyclocross races this week-end in Hood River, OR, the Double Cross. And I have-to, have-to, have-to find a kitchen table for my new apartment.

Parting shot... what do you think of the new do?

Where's Waldo Lake: Mountain Bike Weekend

One year ago, who would have thought it, but I'm getting pretty good at this mountain biking thing.  I still have a little bit of road-biker mentality when it comes to riding over rocks (avoid at all costs) and bumps (not good), but as I've gotten faster and more used to having suspension in the front (still rocking the hard tail) I find myself starting to believe my friend Marty when she told me "It's easier to ride over the rocks if you are going fast."

Friday night, Erika, Bill, Marsh-dog, and I packed up the car and drove off to Waldo Lake to meet up with Jim and Heather and another couple from the Pacific Power Blue/Sky team.  In total, we had seven adults (if I count in that), one kidlet (two if I don't), four dogs, eight bikes, and three flavors of Pop-tarts.

Saturday morning we broke into a couple of groups, Bill deciding to run the 20-some odd miles around the lake, Erika and Heather planning a couple of hour out-and-back, and Jim and I mountain-biking around the lake.  Right off-the-bat, I took on some bruises when I got the front wheel hung up on a stump.  I went down so hard and so flat-chested that I bruised my ribs a little bit.  But, not wanting to look to foolish in front of the much more technically gifted Jim, I jumped up, dusted myself off, and said "okay.  Now that I got that out of the way, let's ride."

And we did!  I took the lead most of the way as Jim let me test out my skills with a view of the trail (the lead rider invariably kicked up a lot of dust to obscure the trail for the rider back).  He coached me in a little technique, but mostly we just talked about bikes (wouldn't it be cool... if there were some apparatus that could keep the chain continuously lubed?!  We talked about different ways and requirements for a good 30 minutes!), politics, science (he's a chemical engineer), and of course mutual friends and cool people (we were a couple of gossip queens for a bit).

Before, I knew it, we had gone a 1:30 without stopping and only encountered a couple of spots that I had to shuttle... one was a really narrow gravelly bit that I am sure gets a lot of avalanche action into the lake in the winter... totally exposed, and gorgeous:

Yup, like that.

Continuing on, we encountered a few mosquitos (though nothing to swarm home about), a testosteronie mountain biker (who I am sad to admit was correct about the fact that he had right of way, going uphill and all, but the trail was wide enough that I could go around without stopping!  Peace, love, and rim tape, man!).  We were accosted by Marshall before we saw Bill running.  He looked a little worse for wear, having taken a wrong turn, but still truckin'.  The last 3 miles for us were all single-track and downhill and I put on some seriously impressive moves to stay upright over the roots and rocks.  Scott G. would be so proud!

Jim laughing at me as I almost fall backwards taking the picture.

To chill out after the long ride, Erika and I wet-suited up and braved the 60 degree water of the lake for a little swim around shore.  And it was amazing.... the bottom was a good 40 ft below us at some points and it looked like you could reach out and touch the submerged logs, it was that clear.  I bet a SCUBA diver would have 100s of feet of visibility in the lake, and no fish or plant life (except some moss near the shore) to obscure the view.  Rumor has it there is a submerged airplane in the lake... wouldn't it be cool to dive there?  Correction, wouldn't it be freakin' freezing to dive there?!

Next day, we all combined to head out on bikes clockwise on the trail, with Bill, Heather and I continuing on past Betty and Bobby Lake South to the Gold Lake Trail head.  Can you say "10 miles of hair on fire, single track downhill"?  I couldn't quite keep up with Heather, but I was smiling the whole time and fast!  At one point, I almost pitched off the side of the hill when my weight was going the wrong way to avoid a downed tree.  And then there was the creek crossing that I attempted only to hear Heather yell from above "rock!" just as I hit it... oops.  Managed to stay dry and unscathed.  At the bottom we opted for the road, not wanting to slowly climb through the "Gold Lake Bog Preservation Area".  That is code for "mosquito heaven".  Back on the trail, we all took our own pace, being at various stages of bonking, and arrived back to the campsite with enough time to jump in the water again for a swim before heading back to Corvallis.

Erika and I getting ready to freestyle... 

Ricky Bobby (Bill) tarding it up in the background.

Guide: Waldo Lake is SE of Eugene, OR and ~ 2 hours from Corvallis.  Take some strong mosquito repellent.  The trails are all well marked, and with the lake and several topographically well-defined mountains, navigation in the area is a cinch.  One thing we will do next time: bring a kayak/canoe.  Motors are restricted on the lake... maybe why it is still so pristine.  I'm telling you, not even a bit of trash at the bottom of the lake!  

Sunday Skirt ride

Looking for an excuse to ride a bike in a dress (and biker shorts underneath)... Erika scheduled brunch for her and Heather and I at Gathering Together Farms to be preceded by a leisurely ride in the country last Sunday.  If you've never been to brunch there... it is a veritable spread of all things breakfast.  It is not your hotel style eggs, hashbrowns, toast, and choice of warmed over pastry.  No, no, no.  Instead it is a mouth-watering menu filled with organic, breakfast foods with a gourmet twist, accompanied by an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord of breakfast appetizers (think mini-quiches, fruit salad, intricate donuts and puff pastry, etc.)

But before we could partake in the gluttony, we had to work up some perspiration (women don't sweat, they perspire).  Meeting at the corner of 53rd and Country Club Rd, I in my sundress, Erika in a lovely floral number, and Heather wearing the only skirt she owned (we'll work on this) we proceeded toward Decker, getting more than a few glances from cars and cyclists along the way.  It was a really superbly satisfactory riding experience... it doesn't always have to be hard core boys! 

At breakfast, I think that I took in more calories than I burned.  Oh well.  It was worth it. Breakfast was amazing.  A denver omelette of sorts, made from farm fresh eggs and veggies that might have been picked that morning.  The coffee kept coming and we toasted the morning with some "sparkling" orange juice.  Afterward, I picked some flowers for my new place (oh yeah, I moved, more on that later).  At $0.25 a stem, who could resist?

Sweet morning!

Friday night Sunny ride

Sorry about the extended absence.  Occasionally, I am outside doing the runs, rides, swims, and such that I love to write about it.  But, this particular week was confounded by Labor Day, moving, and something called "werk" (work with a little er in it).

My week-end plans changed everyday this week, starting with Tuesday.  The first plan was to camp out near Hood River and triathlon the Escape from the Gorge.  Then the Corvallis Running Project decided to do a rave trail run trip in the Bend, OR area and my race wheels finally went enough out of true to make it really, really annoying.   By Wednesday, the possibility of amazing weather in the valley and the fact that my friend and favorite Corvallis riding buddy Heather is back to cycling again (yeah!) kept me town-bound.  Then, enter a friend of a friend visiting in Portland (never pass up a chance to day trip the big city) and the opportunity to house sit for Marshall and the kitties (Erika's beasts) and you get the picture.

So what to do with a gorgeous Friday night?  Road ride.  On Dean.  I managed to make it home by 5:10, and thought that I could just sneak in a ride to the base of Mary's Peak (2.5 hr ride) before the sky went to dusk.  I suited up with all the necessities (sans chamois cream, whoops) and headed out the door feeling awesome.  I did the weave and bob through the SW side of town, passing OSU, Country Club, and Gathering Together Farms.  In the blink of an eye, I was out on HWY 34 heading South on the brand-spanking-new blacktop.  And then I ran into the first trouble... bugs.  Bugs everywhere.  Giant clouds of them.  The afternoon sunning glinting off there wings nearly blinded me at some points (and literally at others when I got them in my eyes).  And the cars zooming past just stirred them up more.  And then, about 3 miles from the base of Mary's the smooth pavement ended and the graded "pavement" began. Og!  My brain screamed abort! abort! but I thought if I could just make Decker Rd., I'ld be smooth sailing.

It seemed to take forever.  And by the time I made the turn, my girly parts were numb, my limbs felt like jello, and my brain was slightly addled.  I tried to sit-up and eat but couldn't keep the bike upright with no-hands.  I stopped to nutrish and pulled out the first of a new box of Clif Bars... Oatmeal Raisin Walnut.  I had gotten to try a few iterations of this flavor in the development stages (even getting to vote on the name!) a few years ago, but since then have stuck to the old fave flaves.  But, whoa, it was like eating a fresh-baked cookie, and just about perfect for the moment.  So, there I was, sitting on the side of the road, covered in bug guts, eating a cookie and staring up at Mary's Peak, defeated this time, but swearing to come back (and avoid the bumpy road).

I managed to remount the bike and pedal convincingly for another hour or so, all the while inundated by sun-bugs (def - because they seemed to cloud up in the sunny parts of the road and not so much in the shade) and looking forward to my dinner-date with Erika's pets. 

Race Report: Oregon Trout City of Portland

So, there I was, moving to a new apartment.  Hauling the boxes into and out of the car.  I looked over at the Orbea with its Clif bar stickers, sexy new saddle, and time trial wheels and thought, "it needs to go race".  I had read about the Oregon Trout City of Portland race in its inaugural last year.  Inside Triathlon gave it high marks.  And I was looking for an excuse to go to Portland anyway.  Erika had her tribabe booth set up at the expo and I was all out of excuses.

I cruised up on Sunday morning, and amazingly got there with plenty of time.  I had downloaded and printed out everything that I could possibly have wanted to know about the race... and left it at home. It was good I got there early because, without visible signage, I remember where to park and there were a few snafoos getting into transition... for one, they required that I be body-marked and have my number on my helmet and bike before I entered transition.  That's a new one.  But, I obliged without too much grumbling.  Then, because I was a late entry, I had to run to the finish line to get my timing chip.  The guy there was none to happy about it, commenting "Do you know how much I charge the race director for assigning a chip day-of-race?"  I responded, "Probably, less than the $15 dollars extra I am charged for signing up late."  And all he had to do was punch in three numbers on a key pad.  It looked hard.  I politely apologized for signing up late anyway. 

My warm-up was a jog back to the transition and a quick change into my sunshine-Sunny Splish suit followed by a hurry-up-and-wait jog to the swim start.  The swim was a down and back in the Willamette River (I love river swims) under two bridges.  The men's got to go first, after a little bit of warm-up.  Then it was the ladies turn.  However, because the waves were set to go two minutes a part, we barely had time to get our feet in the water before the air horn sounded.  I took off quickly, but as is usual, one or two girls jumped off the front immediately, dusting (splashing?) the rest of the field in their wake.  Except for a tiny bit of trouble distinguishing the white buoys from the white swim caps of the men in front of me, the swim was fun and fast and over with before I knew it.

I actually gained some ground on a couple of girls toward the end of the swim.... and managed to come out of the water in third.  Running through transition, someone yelled to me,"she is three minutes ahead!"  Who?  How did that happen?  Fortunately, I was feeling like a studette, ready to make quick work of the three-loop 24 mile course.  But first, I had to contend with the first four miles that were all uphill!  Yeah, baby!  Anyone who knows me knows that I love climbing uphill (however much I say I don't like them).  And, what goes up must come down, and man did we come down:  through a park, with descending angle turns and closed to traffic so that only locals were allowed to drive through.  This meant taking the downhill turns like Hincapie in the Tour de Missouri, all the while in aerobars.  I only got passed by one guy the entire race!  The course got a little interesting on the second and third laps when I joined with people just beginning the bike portion of their race.  But for the most part people knew to ride on the right side of the left of the road ;-)  And coming through the cheering alley three times definitely jazzed me up.

One downfall of the three-loop course, I had no idea if I had passed the woman in front of me or not.  But that question was quickly answered for me out of transition (had a little bit of an issue with mud and trying to get the shoes on that slowed me down a bit) when a familiar voice from my Pac Crest race yelled out, "she's only a minute up on you."  Only!  I was feeling good anyway (thanks to the cool temps and the caffeine jolt from a cola Clif Shot... which are sadly no more and I am on my last box... gonna have to try the espresso or mocha flavors), so I settled into a 5:55/mile pace, up a hill and over a bridge across the Wilamette I could just make out the Avia uniform ahead of me... but I wasn't sure that was the girl (there were some sprint racers already on the course) because she was a good 1:30 up on me.  I bombed down some stairs and zigzagged on the pedestrian walkway before landing on the floating dock and confirming that Avia-girl was indeed who I was trying to catch... that left me trying to figure out who it was!  I continued to gain ground on her, but only took 35 seconds out of her lead on the first 5K lap.  I had some work to do , so I dropped a 5:40 mile on the slightly more downhill mile 4, but that only brought me so close.  In the end, I came heart-breakingly close to catching her in the final straightaway, 10 seconds, before easing in for 2nd a new 10K PR of 36:36.  When I saw who it was, my first thought was, you have got to be kidding... Emily Finanger, a fellow Boulderite Pro come to race this little race in Portland, OR.  But then I found out that she was just visiting her sister and felt like racing.  I can't argue with that, because I do it all the time.

All-in-all a great day.  Great bread (see below my new pal Dave) at the expo.  Great Post-race meal (Tillamook yoghurt, fresh bagels and cream cheese, and baked potato soup).  Fun, fun, fun.

And 2nd, ain't so bad!

Eva's Ride

Retro-Blog

Chapter 2:

Get your sexy on

Sadly, one of my favorite riding buddies moved away a couple of week-ends ago.... back to Portland to live with her Mom, come unscrewed, find a job.

But before she took off on this new adventure, we declared the Beaver Girlz Thursday Night Ride the official "Au revoir, Eva" ride (on cyclocross bikes of course).  I didn't get the memo about wearing a halter top, but Eva helped me out by making me ride with my cycling jersey only half-zipped (don't worry, there was never any danger of anything falling out, wardrobe malfunction, etc.).  We rode up the Oak Creek fire road to the top of Dimple Hill as usual.  At the top, Eva pulled out a can of Natty Light for herself and then boldy announced "I have one for you".  (????  I am a beer snob who sticks to the microbrews only, so I was a tad concerned).

But out comes a brown-bottled goodness.  She rocks.  Yeah!  We drank a little.  Posed a little.

Then decided to ride for a little more.  A bomber down Dan's which, if you take it fast enough, can be quite a trip on a cyclocross bike.  Plus, this was the first chance I got to try out the new brake system that Full Cycle hooked me up with (love those guys): wide-profile cantilever brakes.  I got them to ease some of the jitters I was getting from the front when I braked hard, and to also gain a little power and brake-pad travel over the linear-pull breaks I was riding with before.    They'll also come in handy once the mud shows up later in the fall winter (gasp! Not yet!)

Girlz Night Out

Retro-Blog

Chapter 1:

The Hot Chocolate Martini

Yup, those are marshmallows adorning martini glasses at Big River.  This drink was number three in the line-up, a Swiss-miss-tini.  Why? Because Heather, Erika, and I were celebrating lot's of things, but among them, the first meeting between Heather and Erika.  I constantly talk about one to the other and I couldn't believe that for so long, they hadn't met.  Hence, the occasion.

On a Wednesday night, I put on some heels, a little mascara, and mosied on down to Bar 101 on 1st street in Corvallis (adjacent to Big River and something of a sports bar for girls).  I started with blueberry infused vodka and moved on to something called a Havana-tini that tasted a lot like a mojito.  Over dinner we chatted it up, talking about tribabe.com (Erika is learning to screen print), cycling (cyclocross season is coming), triathlon (one more to go), babies... had to add some real girl stuff.  Then, the cameras came out:

And the dessert was ordered (NY Cheesecake of course)!

And the evening ended with a drunken bike ride home.