And Anyway, They Canceled the Easter Egg Hunt!

There are very few sentences you can say, as a parent, to entice your children to come to an eight hour mountain bike race in a forest, in the rain and snow.

One sentence might be "there will be other kids your age". Another you could use is, "they will have candy". And still another, although it only works up until the age of ten is "there will be an easter egg hunt, I promise". An easter egg hunt is convincing enough even to a 12 year old, because there's an assumption that candy will be involved.

But really, getting your kids to stand around for 10 hours, waiting for their parents to finish racing mountain bikes in 28 degree weather, is in itself a drag.



Thankfully, there WERE other kids there. And there WAS lots of food. And cookies. And a bit of candy. And I'd instructed them to dress as if they were spending a weekend in the Alaskan back country so as to at least be not so cold.

And so in normal fashion, we arrived with a half hour to spare before the start time. Since Morgan was racing solo and I was racing with a partner, he went off to check in and get dressed and chase after the start while the kids and I set up the feed zone. And it was at the feed zone, where I planted the kids and dogs and food and sleeping bags and tool bag and water bottles and gu and hot chocolate and cookies, while I went off to try and get prepped for my laps, before my partner Emily finished her first two laps.

This was also the area where Murphy was settling himself into heckling the racers.

And since we all know that kids are like parrots, it only took about six minutes before there was a chorus of seven kids between the ages of five and 12 yelling out things as racers rode by like,

"You ain't no Ricky Bobby. Keep pedaling"
"Ride it like I taught you"
"Stop sucking"
"You're winning!"
"Only 7 hours and 45 minutes left"
"Stop using your brakes, they only slow you down"
"Are you going to let a girl pass you!"
"Is that your sister's bike you're riding?"



After prepping, I made my way down to the transition area to wait for Emily.

But not before a quick trip to the porta potty. Which lead me to the next thing. That thing that you're always a little afraid will happen, but never does, because you're always super careful. But this time, because it was 28 degrees out and I was afraid my teammate would show up and I wouldn't be there to make the hand off at the exact perfect time, I whipped irresponsibly around in the porta potty and my multi tool, and two air cartridges fell out of my back pocket and into the bowl.

And I watched two out of three things sink very slowly into it. The third thing landed on top of the pile and I ever so carefully plucked it out and wiped it off and put it back into my pocket.

Yes, that really did happen.

Around noon or so, at the supposed time of the easter egg hunt, the kid crew meandered down towards the transition area for the egg hunt. And hunted for the hunt. But according to the official twenty minute complaint logged from my ten year old on the drive home, NO body knew where the egg hunt was. NO body. They searched and searched and asked and asked. And were pointed in various different directions, but were never able to find it.

As I was riding through the transition area, starting on lap two I heard the 10 year old yell out to me as I went by, "MOM! You TOLD us there'd be an easter egg hunt! Where IS it MOM? "

How the hell do I know, I thought.

Half way through my second lap as I arrived at our perfect little logistically placed feed table to refill my water bottle, Lulu asked me to go get her other shoes and socks in the car. "My feet are wet", she told me. "And anyway I can't find my socks".

Um, no, I said. I'm kinda racing right now.

STOP SUCKING she yelled at me as I was filling up my water bottle.

And then Sam told me that Morgan's bike was broken and that I needed to get him the Retrotec. Somehow.

Who told you that? I asked him.
I don't know, some guy. He said.
The guy said you need to go get the bike. He said.

I'm trying to race, I said.
Well then stop sucking, he said.




On another lap pit stop as I rounded the corner they were fighting about the one and only apple juice pouch left, that they both wanted. He was threatening to stick the straw in it and drink it and she was screaming at him that she hated him. Later, during clean up, I found it un-opened laying on a sleeping bag. Along with a pair of wet socks.



Afterwards, as we reminisced by the fire while holding puppies in our laps and eating meat and drinking adult beverages I remembered why I loved racing mountain bikes in 28 degree weather so much. Camp fires.

What is an inlet of the sea called anyway?

Last month while at work, in our old early 1900ish stone building that has no heat and use to be a meat packing plant in its early days and now houses a winery and us - during that week where it was 28 degrees in Berkeley, my coworker and I were working, in our down jackets and hats and scarves and wool attire, when I went downstairs to bare my ass to the frigidness to go pee.

And then I smelled smoke.



And as I was peeing I thought to myself, oh how nice, someone somewhere close by has started a nice little wood fire in this chilly weather and they're enjoying the warmth. And then I went back upstairs to sit on my personal space heater, while I processed payroll and wrote checks.



But as I was climbing back up the steps I realized that the smoke was getting stronger. And I could almost see it. And just as I rounded to corner to the final few stairs to tell my coworker that I smelled smoke, he said said something about not having any electricity on his side of the building.



And then we discovered it, just as we turned around to go back down to see where the smoke was coming from, there it was, a little electrical fire - with smoke and sparks and everything.

So we did the fire dance.



You know the one, where you circle around each other and say out loud while laughing nervously what should we do, what should we do, when you know full well what you should do. And then you realize your phone isn't on your person because, well after all, you were just going downstairs to go pee. But thankfully your coworker DID grab his phone, because he has an iPhone and iPhone people never go anywhere without their phone, even if it's just to put chili in the microwave. And so we did what we were supposed to do, and pressed the app to call 911. And then we went outside to wait.



And my coworker tried to make me guess what his rapper alias was by rapping about electrical fires and canned chili and pop chips and V8.




The fire people arrived within four minutes. And blocked off our street. With four hook and ladder trucks. And three smaller trucks. And four police cars. And axes and hammers and radios and chopping things and stuff like that. I felt a bit guilty. They'd sent so many resources for such a tiny fire. So many fire men. Such a little fire. And all of them running around, looking for something more. We were a disappointment.

They put our fire out. And told us not to plug so many space heaters into one socket. Because it overloads things. And turned off the electricity to the entire building. And then they left.

In Slow Motion

It's time for a bicycle race report.

Sunday morning I awoke at 6am - hoping others in the household would share in my excitement of driving for an hour down to Santa Cruz to ride a bike around in circles in dirt and mud and grass and gravel while feeling like you're going to throw up - and get up at out of bed promptly as well.

But no one would get up.

Every 10 minutes or so for the next hour, I tried to shake them awake. But no dice. Morgan mentioned something about having "just fallen asleep" and the 12 year old told me to shut up. It wasn't until something like 8:23 am that we were finally on the road. The junior having missed his raced, not caring, and refusing to wear his coat.

Once there, I promptly plopped myself in the middle of the inner grass area on a red camp chair and ate my crumpet and tea. And surveyed the environment. And watched all the women warming up.



Wait a second. Why are they warming up now? Don't we have like 3 hours till our race starts? Is there something that I don't know.

Why are you getting on the trainer now? I asked one of them as she was setting up her device near my camp chair. Because that's how it's been for me this week, she said. I need it. And then another one came over to ask me if I'd pre-ridden the course yet. No, I'm still eating my breakfast I said. Well you better get out there, she said. You NEED to pre-ride it. It's REALLY hard she said.



I will, I will. I said. But first a nap.

And then I laid down on my blanket. And rolled myself up in it. So no one would know it was me. But then someone stepped on me. Because he wanted money for a bagel.

After my breakfast nap, I decided to go over and watch Morgan's race start. So I did. But the race was behind schedule and it was boring. So I left.

I could still see all the women warming up ferociously as I wandered around.



And then I decided to go over to the run-up to see what was going on over there. So I did. And on the way over I saw Sabine. And she was still in her street clothes. Drinking something out of the back of her car. And I felt better. About not warming up yet. Because I wasn't the only one.

At the run up they were drinking wine out of jugs. And beer. And they were drunk. Already. And then the men's race came through a few times. But it was boring. Nobody smiled. So I left.



By this time, there was still an hour left till my race. So I thought I'd go get dressed for it. So I went back to the inner field and put my outfit on. While wrapped in my blanket. And then decided to go to the restroom to see If I could see in the mirror if my outfit was see through. And if it made me look fat.

And then I went back to the field and had two bites of a turkey and cheese sandwich. And I saw a glimpse of one of my kids running by. And my old friend Jenny showed up. And she registered and then we went down to the rest room again.

By this time, the races were running even more behind, and we still had an hour till our start. So my friend and I decided it would be good to do a few pre-ride laps. And so we did. And we chatted and commented on the terrain. It was a nice course. Nothing too horrid. Except for the soul sucking muddy grass.



And then we went back to the inner grass area. And I drank some water. And then it was time to race. And then we raced. And then we were done.



And then it was time to relax.

Towards Durango

A few weeks ago I left Oakland, in a truck, with a sleeping bag, some bikes, some clothes, a bit of food, some high heeled shoes, some beer and a husband and Jacquie Phelan.

And no kids.



We drove for a few days into the desert. Towards the Mojave. And stopped during the night when we got tired. And slept on the roof of the truck. Well, Morgan and I slept on the roof. Jacquie slept on the ground. With her banjo.

In the mornings we woke just before the sun rose. And boiled some water. And made coffee and ate berry pie for breakfast. And were serenaded by a banjo.



And then we drove some more. Through the desert into Arizona, where we stopped. In Flagstaff. To see Joe. Who so graciously allowed us to stay at his house for a few days. While we rode some trails. And drank some beer. And had coffee with Cosmic Ray.

And the shaman held Morgan's hand.



On the third day we rode. And I tried to keep up with Jacquie Phelan and Joe Murray and Morgan on their single speeds. But half way through the ride, I gave up, and drank a few beers while we rested. And slowed down a bit. And ran with my bike on my back a few times on the way down. Because the boulders were so big.



On the fourth day, we rode through the fields while thunder and lightning chased us. And we hid in the Aspens. And dodged the deer. And the turkeys.

And Jacquie Phelan mooned me.



On the fifth day, we left Flagstaff and drove some more.



Through the desert. And into New Mexico. By mistake. But we'll blame that on Joe, because we were following him. We made our way into Colorado towards Durango. Where we dropped Jacquie off at her friend's house and bid adieu to Joe. And Morgan and I made our way to a house in the woods.