Race Report: USA Cycling CX National Championships 2013

"Sunny Gilbert", the race official called me to the start line. Seventy-nine women lined up in front of me, so technically, the start line was a ways off. Friends Seth and Robyn, who were there to collect my jacket and see me off, started joking around immediately, "it's so warm out here!" It was decidedly not warm, the sunshine doing little to take the bite out of the 18 degree temperature Madison, WI was treating us to.  I gave it right back though, "yeah, I think I'm wearing too many clothes. Maybe I didn't need the long underwear under my long underwear."  I looked ahead at the sea of helmets in front of me and commented with a grin, "I think I see the starting line up there."  A woman next to me leaned over and whispered, "I like your socks" about my sparkly-neon-argyle knee-high socks, a signature feature of my race uniform. The two-minute warning rippled back just then and I grudgingly removed my jacket, handed it to Seth, and told him I would see him at the finish line.  Then the whistle blew and 90-odd shoes clipped into pedals as the wheels began to turn.

There is no way to practice starting in the back of a field so large, and certainly no rules for trying to move up. I wound my way around a few riders before we moved as a group into the thawing mud.  Two narrows tracks on either side of the course had been carved by early riders amid the rutted remains of previous days' races. The quickly became stop-and-go-traffic as first one woman went down, another wobbled into the tape, and still others struggled to keep the front wheel moving in a somewhat forward direction. I took my opportunities to pass where I could, at times churning the big ring like a pepper mill up the bumpy middle or plowing through a giant frozen puddle.  According to friendly spectator reports (thank you, Seth!), I was in the 40s before the first pit.  I managed to run past several women riding on the first hill, and keep it upright when another woman veered into me at 90 degree turn onto the pavement. At the stairs, I took full advantage of my long legs and motored to the muddy top past a few more. By the time I hit the barriers, my rear brake was a block of ice mud. I went to lift it onto my shoulder, and at double its normal weight, I was nearly pulled over.  A few seconds later, I appreciatively approached Travis in the pit for a bike change to the Raleigh. He asked if there was anything specific, and I threw over my shoulder, "just clean, please".

It was at this point that the rutted nature of the course really started to become a problem, with ice patches, and off-camber turns, it was hard to find a line anywhere. I was passing a woman on the right when a rut suddenly grabbed her front wheel and sent her hurling into my rear. For a moment, I resembled a jack-knifed tractor trailer, sure I was going to go down, but the rut that my front wheel was in proved to be so deep that I remained upright and was able to flip the rear around and continue on my merry way.

I hardly shifted, so quickly did the mud clog my derailleurs (I would later learn that the rear derailleur cable holder had broken off the frame, leaving a gaping hole in the carbon seat stay... hence the "difficulty" shifting). I spent most of the race in one gear and big-ringing anyway, using the power pedal technique to stay upright. I did not know where I was in the race, only that I was still racing, the embrocation had stopped working, but that my hands were starting to thaw. Travis was working the pit for me as best he could, and I was back on the Cannondale SuperX the next time around.

Lap two proceeded without too much incident, just turning the pedals over and passing a few more women. I wobbled my way out of severe danger a few times.  Though, I did manage to take out a post and lay myself out flat on my back around one corner.  Two spectators cheered me up.  As I picked myself off the ground, I joked that I "thought that post was in the wrong place anyway" and they laughed.  A smile snuck its way onto my face during this lap, and a number of spectators commented on it. "Nice smile." "Less smiling, more riding." "Your having too much fun." Never!

I approached the pit at the start of lap three, ready to get on a new bike. But Travis waived me through, saying "one will be ready next time." If you enter the pit and don't get a new bike, you have to touch a foot down (I did not know this, and several pit crews called after me to do so... Thanks!), so I tagged the ground a couple of times in front of the official and rode back out onto the course.

By now, I was climbing great, and finding lines on the course. Cheers I heard as I pedaled past included "Missouri representing!", "Go Big Shark!", and "Way to go, Socks!".  I rode with power up and over the hills and down around to the base of the stairs. I flashed a smile at Seth and his girlfriend Robyn cheering. Half-way up a spectator thrust a $5 in my general direction, and I threw out a hand for the grab, shoving it down my front in one motion. At the top of the hill I hopped on my bike to find my cranks frozen in place. I coasted down the hill and around the corner before resigning myself to running it in. Along the paved section, two woman passed me as I ran. I managed to shove a gloved hand in between the rear wheel and the rear brake to get it somewhat moving. I was able to churn my way up a little riser and coast down the next big hill to the barriers. Over the barriers I once again heaved up the deadweight of my mudcicle Cannondale and trotted into the pit, but not before grabbing a slice of bacon from a topless male spectator with a big blue letter on his bare chest.

Travis saw me coming and was ready with a bike I did not recognize as one of mine (it turned out to be a neutral 54" Moots with Shimano, a whole other animal from my slightly larger, SRAM groupoed Cannondale... Happy to ride anything with two moving wheels!). I passed back the two women who had passed me while I was running, and I picked up a third before I was whistled off the course.  Sad not to get to cross the finish line, happy to not have been lapped, ecstatic to have had the opportunity to race against such fine competition!

Wrap-up: 35th out of 95 entrants (highest finish out of three, to date) in the Elite Women National Championship Race! Second lap was 1:20 faster than first lap. I also managed a hard won podium finish two days before in the Master Women 30-34 (5th overall, baby!). Couldn't have done more than one lap of that race course without my wonderful boyfriend Doug outfitting me with a pit bike, the tireless efforts of Travis to keep it clean in the pit (or find a suitable substitute as the case may be!), or Seth's week-end long hospitality in Madison. Not to mention the endless support of Big Shark Bicycle Company and the St. Louis cycling community.

Race Report: Jingle Cross Mudfest, Day One

Mud, Mud, and More Mud screamed the headline in the local Iowa City paper.  Of course, he could have been writing about the thousands of farm acres left bare that I drove by on my way here from St. Louis.  He was referring instead to Day Two of Jingle Cross Rock.

The reporter got it right; even the concrete was muddy.  And a lot of it could have been rideable except that there were may off-cambor sections designed to be technical in dry conditions, and if you did attempt to ride the cake batter mud, your bike was rendered unrideable.

So I did a running race yesterday in full kit, cycling shoes, and carrying my bike.  Frozen to the bone despite embrocation, not warmed up because of a broken pin on my trainer, wet from the rain, and genuinely jumpy to start the race, I lined up behind eventual race leader Teal-stetson Lee.  Thanks to my erroneous eight points earned in a UCI C1 race earlier in the season contested under identical conditions, I got a call up!

The start was typically fast and elbowy.   Ladies went down in the first turn, in the second straight away, on the second turn, into the tape.  It was as if the mud was just reaching up and pulling you down.  I managed to stay up right and somewhat "in the race" for the almost the full first lap until a surprise corner on gravel sent me super-manning.  It had to be the gravel, right?  My chain off, knees bleeding, I jumped right back on Lynsky and fought for my current position until the end.  Mud, Mud, and More Mud.... Round and round three times only because of how slow the course was running.  I was once again thankful for something during Thanksgiving weekend.

Vital Statistics:  12th place, 3:36 behind the winner. In the points and the $$

Race Report(s): Cyclocross National Championships

Grab the coffee, turn off the phone, and snuggle into the couch, this baby is a verbose one!

First, the who, what, when and where.  I arrived in Portland, OR on Thursday night, plane predictably late, hopped into a rented Ford Escape (pronounced ay-'sca'-pay), threw the ginormous but surprisingly light bike box into the back, and headed over the snowy roads around Mt. Hood... destination: Bend, OR and the USAC National Cyclocross Championships.  I had two races, one the Masters 30-34 on Friday and the Pro/Elite(!) Women on Sunday.  Also, thanks to Peter, I had a fabulous homestay for the weekend (a cyclist and all around nice guy).

Off to the races....

If there is one thing you can count on for a cyclocross race in Oregon, it seems to be mud.  Going in to Nats, I was a little concerned that I hadn’t ridden in the slop yet this year.  And I was hoping that my past year’s experience with the unpredictable, quad-busting brown stuff would still be with me and serve me well.

The lay of the land:  I only raced in good old MO this year; I didn’t race the Women’s Masters 30-34+ race last year; and I skipped out on the seeding time trial on Thursday morning.  All adding up to the reality that I was going to be starting in the back of the pack, with lots of opportunities to pass and crash!  The course was really tight.  Lots of hairpins, four spots that required jumping off the bike and running, and, of course, the mud.  How muddy are we talking?  Bend was slammed by a snowstorm the week before the race.  Then unseasonably warm weather melted almost all of it.  Followed by torrential downpours, high winds, and broken by schizophrenic sunshine and you have the makings of a mudfest.

Race Day #1.  Surprise, surprise, I got a late start out the door, misplaced my numbers at race registration, and realized that I didn’t pack my warm-up pants.  Late is not too late.  The numbers were easily retrieved.  And who needs warm-up pants when the fine folks at Lemond Fitness generously set-up wind trainers on the outdoor theater stage for anybody to use for a pre-race spin?  I was bound and determined to show up at the start with my twisted Lynskey clean.

I was lined-up at the start in the last row, maybe five rows back?  Hard to tell from my vantage point… practically needed binoculars to see the first row!  No big shocker there.  Nope, the big shocker came 15 ft. off the start-line (barely enough time to take four pedal strokes).  A woman went down hard, right in the middle of the group from maybe the third row and took out most of the field behind her.  I applied the brakes so hard, my front wheel lifted off the ground.  I slid/jumped off the back of the saddle as the woman next to me landed side-ways bodily on my bike.  I leaned over, lifted my bike and her up, extricated her leg and her bike from frame, and hopped on the bike to see if it worked.  It didn’t, the front wheel had come out of the drops and I had to reseat it before finally “starting my race”!  Check out the video (I’m the Jolly Green Giant in the black Maplewood Bicycle kit #391 and the tall socks trying smile off my misfortune).

I rounded the first turn, finally hitting that mud I might have mentioned earlier.  I immediately starting playing the “pass” part of this game in the tricky lines.  Lucky for me I got right on a woman’s wheel right before she went ass over shoulder.  I had no way of maneuvering around her… all I could do was take all my weight off the handlebars as my front wheel rolled over her face.  I almost threw-up right then!  Except that I miraculously stayed clipped-in and rubber-side down.  I churned through a virtual swimming pool on the course (a 40 ft. mud puddle so deep, my shoes disappeared in it) and continued on my muddy way.

On my muddy way...

The course followed like this – rutted and tricky off-camber turns, a downhill bump, a short-run up that could best be described as a 4ft mud cliff with a semblance of footholds, an uphill bump, a rest-your belly-button-on-your saddle dipper, and that was just the first half. 

We wound around onto the beer garden/vendor side where the course was temporarily marked by a line of beer barrels alongside the Deschuetes Brewery and followed by a set of barriers that came right after a sharp little blind downhill.  These were almost immediately followed by a quad-busting, chain-breaker uphill.  I almost ate it in the barriers on the first lap, and I never got up that hill with out sliding my butt off the back of the saddle and running up it (always getting stuck behind somebody).  What goes up, must come down, and without clipping-in, I barreled down a somewhat treacherous downhill followed and onto a  pavement lip, holding my breath on each go around.  And, we’re not done yet! 

Next, we swung around back on to the “grass”, navigating a dip-turned-creek before hauling up an over-pass that spectators could walk under to get their beer (and coffee, burritos, and frites! Oh my).  This is where the course got even trickier and more funner (and slightly rerouted for later races in the week-end to make it less treacherous…this section will figure in a later race).   It snaked along the expo side and then there were STAIRS… at least 15 of them.  I, of course, took them two-at-a-time for three of the four laps!  And then finally, and thankfully, the lap ended, and it was off to do it again.  The course was so long that in the 40-minutes of our race, we only got to do 4 laps.  That’s good for the ladies at the back; they get their money’s worth!

Coming down from the overpass.

So, that was the race pretty much.  After my two snafoos, I was effectively last for all intense purposes.  I gruelingly worked my way back up to 14^th (5^th Cat2) before the end!

Guess what the crashing did to my baby (the newest addition to my bike fleet)… I spent most of the race in two-three gears as I kept slipping in and out of them each time I tried to shift too far one way of the other.  I figured the hanger was bent (need to get some spares).  What I didn’t figure was buying a whole new rear derailleur.  Upon later inspection (by my excellent friend-of-a-friend home-stay – and hopefully my new friend, Eric, if he can still stand me still- who incidentally put me up, fed me, cleaned my bike twice(!), and entertained me above and beyond anything I would have ever expected) the rear derailleur was toast!  Yes, the hangar actually was impossibly bent, but the B-tensioner screw on the derailleur was ripped off, the arm was bent in, and the barrel adjuster was destroyed.  Practically the only thing it’s good for now is spare sprockets.  How did I ride this bike for the whole race?  Oh, not to mention that the rear wheel was a little out of true (very sorry Stewart).

Thankfully, the guys at Hutch’s Bike Shop in Bend helped me out with the new part and at least my bike was race ready for Sunday.  I discovered all the new scrapes and bruises in the shower, not to mention the late-onset soreness that night.

Racing with the big girls.

I chilled and worked out the muscle kinks with a five-mile trail run, and just enjoyed the unseasonably warm and spectacular weather that arrived in Bend on Saturday afternoon.

The sun was out early on Sunday and I went to watch my friend Blair Bronson rip it up in the Div. 1 Collegiate Men’s Championships (I think it was only his third ‘cross race ever).  It’s funny watching a cross race fully clothed.  Seeing all the mud and pain face out on the course, I had little desire to get out onto the course myself.  But later, as soon as I put on my shorts and jersey (need to get me a skinsuit for next year) and pulled up my tall socks, it was game on.  I warmed up on the stage again (that was so key!) and went to await my call-up.

And, I had to wait a long time.  In a field of over a hundred women, I think my start position was 95^th.  So, much for “randomly” getting screwed.  With women 8-wide on the line, you can do the math and figure that I was in the 9^th or 10^th row.

I am indicated by the yellow arrow... I might stick out in a crowd.  Just a little bit.

This time, it was clean..which is to say that there were no crashes that I was involved in.  And thanks to Bob’s Red Mill, the swimming pool on the course had been reportedly soaked up by a timely application of pounds of steel cut oats.  However, the rest of that section looked like a herd of cows had gone through it, and I found it best to dismount and run this entire thing.  My strategy for the whole first lap: get off and run it!  I did that in three spots, passing an amazing number of women in the process.  I even ran about 50-60 yds leading up to the stairs.  The advantage of running while carrying your bike in that muck?  A free hand to guide the women on their bikes out of your way!

I kept working my way up the whole race.  It was painful and fun.  I traded places with a couple of women for four out the five laps, eventually working my way up into 37^th!  It wasn’t the best display of bike-handling skill and acumen, but it was a major improvement on my result from last year!  And I managed to stay ahead of the Comptonator, which meant I got to race all the laps (she again lapped half the field).  I did have one incident… I was aiming to cut somebody off (my bad!) and she managed to cut me right back on a sharp turn.  In order to stay upright, I swung my right knee out and caught a beer barrel square, tearing a flap of skin off the point of my knee… it bled pretty impressively, and mixed with the mud, I looked really tough.  Not so tough now though, going to have to ice when I get home.   Going to have to ice a lot of things when I get home, actually.

Avoiding the barrels on this lap, but the bloody deed has been done!

MUCHOS GRACIAS to Eric for letting me invade his life for the weekend.  Stewart and Maplewood Bicycle for the opportunity to race out there on probably the nicest (and coolest) bike I have ever owned (I’ll make sure to “own” it soon.  And don’t let my other bikes hear about that; they are a jealous bunch, especially Tigger).  Travis for the used (new) groupo, the bike box, and the heckling from afar.  Stacie for taking me to and from the airport.  My Corvegas (you guys rock!), PacNW/West, and Missouri (that was a cool surprise) peeps for cowbell and pics.  Friends who were sending me telepathic high-fives and goo-oo-ood vibrations.  All the Bubba ladies and Mens Bs who provided fun racing opportunities this year.

Time to let my bruises heal.  Cyclocross done!

Fall Tails

I love Fall, but occasionally I fall.  Some of my decisions are made through a complicated "Heads and Tails" process that ends up leading to Tails... lot's of 'em :-)  Here's a story about the last three weeks in pics and quips.

First, a friend came to visit!  Maybe because she was curious about what goes on the middle of the country under the guise of coming to see me (love ya, Cary!), it's anybodies guess (and probably a little bit of both)!  Either way, my doors are wide open, the towels are clean, the coffee is good, and diversions are a plenty.

Cary (and me, still!) was excited about pumping gas.

There's a TIger in my Trunk!

and then she was treated to an EPIC Mizzou Homecoming Football Game.

Look at those ROTC kids futiley sitting on the goal posts...

See... can't stop the ZOU crew from claiming there trophy.

We also took in a little BubbaCross...

This was before my massive digger (Fall)... I think I might have broken a finger..
It's getting X-rayed next week.  Like all of my injuries, I give them two weeks to heal before I raise the alarm and get them checked out... spoken like a true athlete in denial. 

Ah Vuvuzelas!

And then it was Halloween... and I couldn't let this opportunity pass.  Halloween on a week-end?  Two cyclocross races?  That calls for two fantastic costumes!  And one thing I've learned from past experience riding in costume... one must consider the movement and the "not getting things caught in spokes" rules.  Capes are out, spandex is in... and if you're good, and your butt is as high in the air as mine.... costumes with tails are the best!

Cheshire Cat meets a scarily, squeeky Binky

I'm just too fast for the camera!

My Avatar raced with the Men's Bs... That's right, on the front!

Peter looks concerned that I am leading the race... that's right, the whole RACE.  For a whole lap!

Check out that air!

And of course, what would fall be without a half-marathon.  Last year it was the strangely warm EWEB Run to stay warm at which I set my PR (1:27).  This year was no different... not a PR (that was set last spring in Eugene 1:21), but it was stilly scarily fast (1:22) at the St. Louis Track Club Half-marathon.

I'm the one dressed in Brooks Nite-life (can't miss me), leading the pack!  It's only mile 1....

Bringing it home with one-mile to go 1:22:19

And that's about it... I've got three times the racing fun this week-end and my first weather challenge (it's a very blustery day with a really good chance of rain!  Thanks to all the people (Peter, Stacey, Heidi, Rich, Brent, and Cary) for keeping me in pictures!

There's a bathroom on the right...

...sung to the tune of "Bad moon rising."

Everybody now. I actually got this song stuck in my head during my long run on Sunday and the "bad moon" became a "bathroom" mantra as I neared the end.

I've been training. Really. I managed to run eight whole miles on Sunday without stopping to walk or gasping for breath (though I did eventually stop and find that bathroom). Of course, my running schedule actually said "10 miles with a 2-mile tempo section". I translated that as 8-miles with a one-mile tempo section followed by gulps and gulps of Clif drink. You see, no matter how early in the morning I get up to go running, it's still hot and humid and I still lose the weight of a small child in sweat. Monday it was so bad that I could wring my shorts (Brooks running, there's an apparel challenge for ya!) and I left puddles on the kitchen floor while attempting to rehydrate with iced coffee.

So, here's the skinny. What am I training for exactly? This is going to be great. First, I lived in Oregon for how long...? 2.5 years. How many times did I want to race Hood-to-Coast and not do it? 2.25 yrs. I move away, and that's when I get on a team. But, if good things come to those who wait, I got handed the mother of all opportunities. My adopted team is called "Slug-hunters" and this group is making me feel like one of the family! If you are an Oregonian friend reading this blog post, definitely come party with me in Seaside on August 28.

What else? Ooh-ooh. This Sunday, my awesome temporary roommate Peter (and married so don't get your hopes up) and I will be competing in the New Belgium Brewing Urban Assault Race! Five obstacle course check points, two mystery checkpoints, and an entertaining ride around downtown St. Louis on the 'cross bike. I can't think of a better way to kick-off my cyclocross training.

And then there is the Lewis and Clark Half-marathon.  That one is looming on the schedule in October.  I'll think about that a little later when the weather cools.  For now, hand me another cold one and let's chill!

Race Report: Cyclocross National Championships 2009

Racing!!! Cyclocross!!!

It has been an AWESOME season. Every course I do gets better and more funner (that's right — more!).

Aside: Some day I will have to explain to my high school AP Language teacher why I have added this non-standard comparative form of "more fun" to my lexicon. For now, it is to emphasize the fact that each race course provides more mirth or more enjoyment than regular fun. It's the ultimate fun.

Cyclocross Nationals was no exception. The eventual women's winner, Katie Compton, called it the most technically challenging course she has raced all year. And I agree with her. Though this is the first time I've ever "raced against" her.

Here's how it went: My starting position was 62 out of 100-and-something. That's 62nd on the line. Meaning, in a starting shoot that only accommodated about 7-8 riders across, I was in about row 8. That's a lot of peeps ahead of me, just at the start. But, at least I wasn't 100 and something... for all the good it did me.

A distant horn signaled the start of my race. I'm sure the women on the front clipped in and hammered the first straight away... my start was more like a gentle, building roll out. About 100 yds down the stretch, after crossing the eventual finish line, the course takes a sharp right, hops the curb, jumps up a short rise, takes another sharp right as it descends down a technical, rocky, muddy, icy slope. Can you say, "what!"? As soon as the leaders hit the curb, the whole field of stampeding women slowed, came to a stand-still, and eventual pile-up. I wouldn't have expected anything less. In fact, I planned on it (see following pic) and therefore kept to the outside. What I didn't plan on was the woman-in-front-of-the-woman-in-front-of-the-woman-in-front of me (got that?) crashing into the boards. I had to much momentum going up the hill, bumped the woman's wheel in front of mine as I was back-pedaling, and dropped my chain. Doh. My bad. I bent over double, to rearrange my chain, hoping noone would nip my butt with their handlebars (it was probably to high in the air for this). And as I straightened up and jumped on my rig, I was in dead-last.

The Women's start: No, not crowded at all!

Do-over. The best part about my rookie move? I got to attack the course, have fun, take the best lines, and pick off people one by one...

The course was still monstrously slick from the combo of mud, wet rocks, icy ground, and snow. And with all the hairpin turns, the off-camber climbs and descents, it was a bike handlers dream. I was thanking my stars the whole race that I routinely practice riding muddy singletrack.

So, around and around I went, eventually catching up to women I knew from racing locally, some of the Sunnyside Sports riders, a few River City Bikes team members, my nemesis, among others. The weirdest and coolest part was that each time I took a lap, the course kept changing a bit and the best line would move to different points in turns and straightaways as 100+ riders tore it up. There was one particularly nasty section that came right after a 20-stair climb (which I took two-at-a-time, of course). At the top, I had to mount fast (minds out of the gutter), before barreling down a small off camber, icy slope. Just after the slope, the course angled upward (again off camber) jumped over a lip and swung through a velodrome-style 180-degree turn. Under the wheels was nothing but close-cropped icy, grass, slick as a BICed bald man's head!

This particular spot on the course (nicknamed "cowbell alley" by me as it was the part of the course that competitors lined 3-5 people deep ringing sonorous cowbells) has three (3!) memorable moments of mine from the race.

Memorable Moment #1: The pre-race pre-ride. The course opened for general riding at 9:00, before the collegiate men's race. But, the sun had only come up an hour earlier and had not yet thawed out the frozen course. My plan was to gingerly proceed around the course, testing lines and turns and riding difficult sections twice, generally getting the lay of the land. Then, I would go back and attack these parts at race pace, warming up in the process. As I approached cowbell alley, my wheels gave way and I gently slipped down the slope on my side, almost in slow-motion. Thankfully the course delineation had been removed by race organizers as so many cyclists in previous races had taken just such a spill and gotten tangled in it (the most gruesome one was a guy who had hit one of the wooden posts, getting a ginormous splinter of wood in his shin in the process). I was unhurt, but I got up and rode it again with more speed, successfully climbing over the lip. And then just past the lip, I almost came to a dead stop. For there on the course was a frozen blood puddle, presumably from the raucous "Clydesdale Cyclocross Championship of the Universe" the night before.

Memorable Moment #2 The Save and The Save II. I approached this section with less ginger and more pepper during the race than I did on that first lap in practice. It just seemed easier to ride fast. But, a successful speedy negotiation also involved balance, the right line, no obstacles on the course (ahem, other competitors), and cojones. On the first two laps, I clipped in fast and took the slope at speed. I had a narrow miss with another rider on the second lap, but we both held our lines well. Then lap three, I was starting to feel the course, maneuvering well up the through the field and getting more aggressive with the terrain. I took the steps two at a time, right into a pack of three other women. My remount was really fast in order to stay ahead, but I slightly missed the foot plant on the pedal, and my right foot went in front of the chain ring (in between the frame and the crank arm... ouch!) instead of clipping in. I pedaled through and kept trying to clip-in while pedaling on this section... well, I pushed so hard to clip in on the right foot, that I pushed the bike hard underneath me just as I was coming over the lip on the off-camber stuff. I would have gone down super hard had my weight no been lifting up on the bike at that moment, and I was able to swing the front wheel around to line up with the rear.... that near-miss-great-save got a huge "whoa---yeah!" cheer from the crowd on this corner. And I had to breath through my heart attack. That was The Save I. The Save II was a little less dramatic, but no less heart-attack inducing. Real quick, on the last lap, I almost ran over another racer when she crashed on the corner right in front of me. I hate running over other people. I managed to avoid her and keep myself upright (multi-tasking).

Memorable Moment #3: The money hand-up. For some reason guys love to try to get racers to take their hands off the handle bars at the most treacherous and technically difficult part of the course. It used to be for beer hand-ups. But ever since these were banned in open competition, spectators have taken to holding out dollar bills. I'm no stranger to this spectator-sport. Early in the season at Barton Park Cross Crusade #8, I expertly plucked a Washington that was positioned in the mouth of a beer bottle lemon-wedge-Corona-style without spilling the beer or face-planting in the mud (see pic).

$1-smile at Barton Park Cross.

But, I was still a bit surprised to see fists-o-cash being thrust out on the Nationals course. I had no intention of trying for the money on this section... until I saw Fuzz-guy (enthusiastic spectator and oft- times racer who wears a sniper suit in costumed races) holding up a twenty.... even I - safe Suzy - would crash for a $20. I reached out, bobbled, grappled for the bill, got it, shoved it down my decolletage, and managed to stay upright through this entire exchange. It only takes a little monetary motivation... I'ld be an easy pole dancer.

Heading into the velodrome turn after coming over the lip.

In the end, I achieved my two modest goals for the race, finish in the top half (I was 48th) and not get lapped. I had an inkling how close I was to get lapped, as I could here the cheers for Compton as I neared the second to last of my promised laps. The chip-timing tells the story; my fourth lap was by far my fastest as I raced to outrace the leader on her last lap. Turns out I had a minute+ cushion, but you can never tell on the twists and turns of a cyclocross course.

So, major props to friends and fans that yelled themselves hoarse, worked their wrist muscles to fatigue with the cowbell, and stood around (drinking beer) for three days in the cold to cheer on all the Pacific Power Blue Sky riders. I had three teammates travel to Bend with me even though they weren't racing. And I had four teammates who raced and placed well in their respective categories.

Also, props to Mathowie for the race pictures. I couldn't help including some pictures he took of the "super" fans:

Race report : Pychocross #2, cyclocross on half-marathon legs:

This is the continued account of the two-in-one-day-of-racing. I'm going to keep it short. The focus of the day was the half-marathon. The cyclocross race... cool down?

On a very Oregonian afternoon (clouds, damp, rain, mud), I brushed the cobwebs out of my sore running legs and mounted my 'cross bike for it's last race before Cyclocross Nationals. Ideally, this would have been a tune-up race. It would prove to be more of a skills challenge then I bargained for.

For one, my nemesis materialized at the starting line. Later she would explain that she is working to qualify for the Pro Elite Women's race at Nationals... deservedly and totally understandable. But that meant that this race would hurt. Alot.

I had some trouble getting my core temp up, and I had long since lost feeling in my toes and nose before the stat of the race. My start was lackluster, and my quads groaned into action. Within seconds I was on off-cambor rocky terrain that gave way to cakey mud. More quad groaning. Then a minute and a half into the race, I encountered the eight pack... I saw it, and I couldn't decide whether to shoulder or carry the bike. An eight pack. Eight. Barriers. Huh. Going over them as smoothly as possible, I realized that we had to negotiate this obstacle an extra time as the finish line was just up ahead. Yeah, I was right. This was going to hurt.

Hitting the 8-pack at the start.

A quick concrete section and then I encountered a single, high wooden barrier. After jumping back on the bike (looking down) and taking two pedal strokes to clip in, I plowed right into a sand volleyball pit. Cruelly, the course crossed the pit on one side, flipped a bitch and proceeded across the other side. I took the wrong line, the wrong turn radius, and the wrong simultaneously two-footed bike-straddling dead-stop that caused me to dismount for a third time in less than four minutes on the course. Oh, but that's not all.

I rounded about on a mud/dirt road, only five seconds behind my nemesis. We entered rocky single-track, with hidden logs and sticks beneath the leaf-cover. The course dropped into a dry creek bed and looked as if it would continue straight. Instead, I came to a complete stop, almost endo-ing over the handle bars as I realized my nemesis had made a 180 up a left-hand muddy run-up. Dude... I scrambled up the slope in traffic (two other women passed me here). And immediately entered single-track that wound, whipped, and ripped through the back lot of trees and briar bushes.

I passes one woman on the single-track as she negotiated a dropped chain. Then, I was caught by complete surprise by a submerged dip that buried the front wheel. It was only by the strength of my arms that I managed to plow through the giant puddle and up the chain-breaker hill that followed.

More single track, more turns, one more barrier, some stairs, a couple of 180s... and it was time to do the whole course over again. I worked my way up into 2nd, but I kept losing five sconds here and 3 seconds there to my nemesis. It was on the fourth lap that she exited my field of vision and I was left to consider just how badly I wanted to make chase. I wanted to, but I took a vote among various body parts, and both my legs voted "no" and that was the end of that.

I managed to make the barriers look easy, but everything else in the race was a trial. And I mocked myself by dismounting just before the finish, humbly tripping and stumbling over the line carrying my embattled bike.

In all fairness, yes, I did race a half-marathon that morning... but, Nemesis, you still would have wiped the floor with me. Such was your mastery of the treacherous course and your late season fitness. Props.

Cheers! USAC Cyclcross Nationals race report coming soon!

Race Report: Cross Crusade #7 and SSCXWC

Race day number two in the, now-infamous, "Three in one week-end" race week-end was even muddier than day one.

I loaded up the 'baru with the newly assembled roof rack, complete with clashing red bike tray (my car is a maroony-red color). I borrowed my friend Chapell's singlespeed (remarkably exactly my size) and placed it in the trunk and put the Felt F1X on top

The second day of racing brought very similar (mud, rain, wind) conditions, only this time there was no relief inside buildings, the first race was 15 minutes longer (1 hr. total), and the mud was deeper and pervaded the entire course. The terms "stuck in the mud" "peanut butter" and "OMGWTF" come to mind when describing how hard it was to churn through the terrain. The competition was stiffer, and I ended up somewhere in the middle of the pack almost instantly (thanks to the fact that I didn't get a call-up... boo!).

No matter, because it was delightful playing in the mud with my bike. I've learned not to be afraid to ride someone's wheel through a pancake-y mud puddle... though I come out the other side nicely peppered. And, I managed not to wreck in the mud, only by the slimmest of coincidences. At one point in the course, you crest a tiny rise and the course proceeds along an off-camber section at the bottom of which is a fence. The mud was so slick, that it was only a matter of pedal strokes before you actually slid down the embankment and came shoulder to chain-link with the fence and were forced to dismount, shoulder the bike, and run this section. Well, a fast guy was passing me at this exact moment, and he being heavier than I, slid faster down, his front wheel catching my rear wheel, sending my bike onto the ground and me flying at the chain-link fence. I thought I was going to face-plant in the mud. But before that could happen, his arms impossibly shot out, encircling my waist and holding me suspended in the air above my bike. We stood entangled so for a moment before “thanks” and “good jobs” were exchanged and then we were off and running up the mud slope. Thank you, nice guy... That was that race.

Within ten minutes of finishing, I needed to have a wardrobe change, a bicycle change, fix my broken mountain biking shoe (a bolt that held the strap on had gone missing during the mud-fest… thank god for duck tape ☺), down a Cola Clif Shot (caffeine required!!!)and line-up for pre-race instructions. I jumped into a giant puddle for a “bath”, grabbed my borrowed singlespeed bike, and took off for the car. I needed to strip off my muddied PacPower speed suit and put on a pink dress and matching boa. This was standard race attire for the SSCXWC (don't question it). Imagine 250 men and women in recycled Halloween costumes, riding singlespeed bikes around not-your-average-muddy-cross course. There was a bacon hand-up, where spectators offered popcorn and bacon to the riders. A ride through a “thunderdome”, in which people in swings above the riders used foam clubs to try and knock us off our bikes. The course, in addition to the barriers and run-ups, had a shortcut purported to cut 40 seconds off your ride. To take the short cut, I would dismount, hand a guard a dollar, and run through a school bus front to back, slap a "stripper" on the butt, and exit, remounting my translocated bike.

I musn't forget to metion the three "Borat" riders, one of which I got to "draft" off of for a half lap. That was nice. There was also a section were an enebriated fan ran out in front of me with beer in hand and pants falling down, yelling "follow me, follow me, I'll show you the line" before slipping and face-planting in the mud... I almost fell off my bike laughing.

The actual race part was a little confusing. It was hard to tell men from women between the mud, the costumes, and the mayhem. The men got a slight (3-second) lead on us to get to their bikes (so we wouldn't get trampled? I forgot to mention that at the start, bikes are layed in a field and we have to run and find them before hitting the course). And I hit a bottle-neck at the first set of barriers. A few laps in, I realized I was sort of surrounded by other three or four women racers and we started to have fun with it. Passing and re-passing as each of us found good lines through the mud and turns. I had no idea how I finished (very sure it wasn't first), but that really wasn't the idea of the race. The idea: Awesomeness and Fan-funking-tastic-time.... see the write-up/video on Wend Magazine for a full description of what I am talking about.

Wrap-up: Thanks for the cowbell, the bacon, the jiffy-pop, the beer hand-up, the drunkin' mooning, the crash-save, fantastic friends for coming to watch and cheer (you know who you are!!!), the mud, my first time ever riding a SS (on a borrowed bike no less...props Chapell), my team (I forgot to mention the role that my teammates had in helping me make the wardrobe change... many hands, and strange looks). In the end I was 12th in the Crusade, 3rd in the SSCXWC, and cameod (heckled) in cyclocross magazine....

"Visions of a Golden Speedo keep her going"
Photo courtesy of Janet Hill @spotshot photography

Race report: OBRA Cyclocross State Champs

Teammate Todd Dye captured by OregonVelo

The picture says it all... Giant mud puddles, foreboding skies, flat and fast racing at the Willamette Valley Cross Series #3 and the Oregon State Cyclocross State Champs.

I thought I would get lucky on this one. While I was loading the car, the skies were clear. I wasn't even wearing a jacket. And my last thought was, I should "probably" put the water proof jacket and the rubber boots into the trunk. Yep... I would need 'em.

I arrived early enough at the Oregon State Fair Grounds to watch the the Men's Bs and juniors race. The coals were hot and dead meat was simmering on the grill in no time. And then the sprinkles started. Then the rain picked up. Then the wind started whipping around. And then it was time for my race.

I had pre-ridden the course, so I knew what I was in for: riding in and out of stock buildings to provide some relief from the rain/wind, a deep sand pit that required a timely dismount and run-through, muddy 180° turns, loose sawdust, a gravel patch, and the piece de resistance... the indoor BMX track. And mud.

Lots of mud to be exact. Serena Bishop, the leader on the first lap, went down in it on a turn and promptly dropped a few places. I nearly slid out so many times, I lost count. The worst bit turned out to be the entrance/exit of the sand pit. The sand was so deep and heavy that your feet were lost in it. The pavement after the pit was a slippery mix of sand and rain that turned the remount into a cartoon-ish version of someone running on marbles.

I lost some time at the start of the race because of a crappy line in a mud pit. Within half a lap I was firmly in third, chasing 1-2 (Serena and Alalia Berry of Gentle Lovers) about 40 seconds ahead of me. Each lap I kept carving out more of their lead, especially on the straight-into-the-wind sections where they slowed, jockey-ing for position. It looked like they weren't working very well together on the straights, with Serena in front most of the time. She would later tell me that they could "feel" me getting closer on each lap. I am intimidating that way.

Eventually I caught them (with tremendous cost to my poor legs). And for a brief time, I pulled ahead. But they both had the advantage of knowing on which sections you could gap a rider (I had done almost the whole course solo). And Serena made a brilliant move just before the sand pit that put her firmly in first place. I was forced wide on the gravel section (into a terrible line) by Alalia cutting the corner on me. And so in the end, my chase was for naught as I finished in third. Though I did provide some excitement for the spectators with my chase and catch!
Big muchos gracias to my team (for cheering) and Felt... Pacific Power/Blue Sky Team purchased some Felt bikes to encourage more women and juniors into cyclocross this year. One just happens to be my size and the newer model of my Felt F1X, the F75X. So, I got to dirty up a bright and shiny clean white bike (check it out below)! The geometry was identical to mine, but slightly lighter. The result was that I got to really throw this bike around in the mud on the course! Excellent.

Results: ended up third in the state among Women's A, second in the WV series, and a podium cameo on Velonews.com!

Getting ready to run through the sandpit... oregonvelo was there.

Reporting back: Part 1. Battle Creek Cross

Dude. That was a great week-end. Epic, really.

But it started out normal. A Starbuck's Mocha (or Tall non-fat signature hot chocolate mocha w/ light whip). A little "light" reading in the form of a non-"Twilight" vampire novel called the Historian (I highly recommend it BTW). Afterward, I mosied on over to see a sightly disappointing Strands 5K (I won't go into it... but so much more could have been done to promote this had anyone really focused on the local running community... maybe that wasn't the point?).

Then it was off to the races!

I pulled up to the Battle Creek Cyclocross race with the dregs of my mocha and cheered in friends Matt and Matt and Brent as they completed competing in the Men's Cs. Then while watching the Juniors show us old fogies how it's done, I started the coals for a BBQ lunch. You see, I miss the Saturday tradition of tailgating at football games, and it being Mizzou's homecoming, the loss was particularly poignant and almost palpable. So, I loaded up on burgers, brats, apple-chicken sausage (it's a staple), condiments, and sauerkraut. It was perfect. Tailgating cyclocross is almost as good as a football. Almost.

Time to race.

All the ladies race categories are on the course at the same time in the Willamette series, and thankfully, my race was only 45 minutes long. At the line I had my game face and my game socks on.


The race went something like this: We all went out hard. Some harder than others. By the start of the second lap, I was 20 seconds down from 1st, 20 seconds up on 3rd, and that's pretty much how the race went.... with the exception of a few antics on my part. Ahem. To be fair, one of said antics was the direct result of egging and ribbing from my teammates, but I get ahead of myself.

The course was flat and fast (golf course), with off-camber twists and turns, a little weaving through the trees (and roots), two sets of barriers, two sand pits, and a nice, big 2 ft ledge that you could either ride up if you brought your cajones or dismount/remount on if you brought your preserve-personal-safety-non-cajones. I tackled most of this like a seasoned crosser... except the ledge. If I could have practiced it before hand, then maybe it would have been doable. But, every time I came around (7 laps total), I couldn't do it. Despite my teammates best cheering efforts (and I was super-psyched to have them there). But, what I could do on the second to last lap, was the bike wave:




Well, on the 7th and final lap, with a healthy cushion between me and third place, I decided to go for it... and by "it" I don't mean what actually happened:

Like I said. I went for it. Wouldn't it have been cool if.... Thanks to all my Pacific Power Blue Sky teammates for the various pictures and video and cheering and BAR-point mongering and grilling. You people rock.

Race week-end

Back from Switzerland and at it again.

Today, I'll be an athletic supporter at the Strands 5K in the morning. Later, I am the official "Dead Meat Chef" at the Willamette Valley Cyclcross race... orchestrating the post-race grillin' up of beast parts so's everyone on my Pacific Power/Blue Sky team (and others) can get their RDA of nitrates and other performance-decreasing substances. Sauerkraut anyone?

In the afternoon, it is my turn to tear up the golf course. The bike is race ready again, thanks to cycling buddy Denny. He used up his yearly quota of expletives while replacing my cables last week. He had to remove my old grimy bar tape that had congealed with the handle bar. It took hardcore paint stripper to get that stuff off.

After that I submerge the lower half of my body in an ice bath, watch OSU kick USC's a$$ in football, and continue to carbo load for Sunday's adventure: the sufferfest known as the Mac Forest 15K trail run. I'm trying to break 1:10, for the 9.whatever course if that gives you any indication of how hilly and hard it is. And, to make it even better.... It's been raining sinks and stoves every other day, and race day is supposed to be another wet one. Do you think I should put the spikes in my shoes or just hope the waffling on the Brooks Cascadia's (I've got the pink ones, of course) is enough to keep me from slipping to my death?

I'll report back.

On the eve of CX...

What's happening? Big changes happening this week-end! Lot's of transitional stuff. Some welcome, some not so.

First thing: This is officially my fourth week of running. I am still doing everything my PT has laid out for me to do (takes 1 hr + a day!). This has been super hard as my gym closed for three weeks of cleaning! Three weeks. What kind of gym closes for three weeks? I'm forced to be creative (I hate that). I am using my front stoop for "box jumps". I incorporate my lunges and hops into my runs (what is that strange girl doing in the park???) I have converted my living room into a yoga/ plyometrics gym. And my torture collection that includes The Stick, the foam roller, the extra-long yoga mat, Trigger Point tools, and the slant board have become my living room furniture. I don't sit and watch TV any more. I foam-roll and watch TV. Stick me!

Thing 2: It rained this morning. First hard rain in a long time. I went running anyway. This is a "rest" week, so I dragged a slower, "shorter" runner into the Mac Forest for a training run (his first run in the forest). When I called him, it was pouring. He asks, "Do we run even though it is raining...." Um, yeah. You want to go running in the rain this time of year because it is warm. Acclimate yourself to the rain in warmer weather and you will be more likely to head out when it is just plain awful and all the sensible people are sleeping-in. If you don't run in the rain in Corvallis... you never run.

Third thing: Cyclocross is here! Tomorrow I ride in the first (and only, I think) Cyclocross stage race in the Pac Northwest. I have no idea what to expect, other than some typical craziness and debauchery following. The event is held over two days. There is a 3K time trial and a 1K-30 minute crit on the first day. Day two is a "cross country" style ride with a really long loop course that we will fly around for 1:30. Egads! That's not a typo. I'm hoping there is a feed zone of some sort. No place to put a water bottle on a cross bike!

Fourth thing: Cash for Clunkers... I no longer have my clunker. But, I also no longer have any cash. Instead I have a sexy new Subaru Forester. It is ridiculously new. We are talking, 65 total miles on the odometer new (that was seven days ago....now there are slightly more because I can't stop driving it). It has been a major struggle to bike commute. I only managed it one time this week. Better start soon before it really starts raining or I'll never ride to work again (see previous advice for running in rain)!

Sunshine and day dreams come true.

The sun returned to the central valley just in time for a little cross bike action in the forest.  And to take advantage of the extra daylight and the warm sunshine...  I took a little work break in the early evening to put in some hill repeats on my favorite fire roads.  I was in a hurry to hit the trails so I drove over to Heather's house.  A fur-ball named Mo tried to hitch a ride in my clothes bag.

Sadly, Mo had to stay behind... But I took Dean over to Oak Creek Rd.  and immediately started climbing up to Dimple Hill.  The sun dappled and dazzled through the trees and the air grew slightly warmer (or maybe I grew slightly warmer) as I neared the top.  And, the beauty of the iPhone:  My "cycle-burn" playlist streaming out of the speakers at full blast made a beautiful climbing cadence. 

I posed only a moment at the top (to take a pick and not wanting to waste any light) before jamming over to the Lewisburg saddle.  I muddied myself up on the Saddle loop and as I crossed the road to head back up to Dimple, I took a leg-check.  Everything checked out, so I added one more tempo climb, this one on the single-track of Horse Trail.

About to practice my high-speed descending.

I was almost cooked at this point (good thing I had no more climbing to do).   I began the descent down to Oak Creek, a hairy, one-lane steep gravel road with blind turns and a steep drop off on one side.  I rounded a turn and a group of completely clue-less nature-haters had parked their cars (?!) in the middle of the fire road.  My adrenaline hit peak capacity as I skidded and swerved/careened around the open car doors (adding insult to injury... as if just having the car take up the whole road wasn't enough).  I was so keyed up, I added in a climb and descent down Uproute Trail to make the ride the little longer and drain some of that electric energy before working a tad more.

Another race, another bruise.

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

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

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

Bad idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.