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!