Yes Indeed, My Very Own Cross Vegas Race

For Interbike this year, we wore t-shirts that said "I Am Cyclocross Magazine".

The "I" was at the tip top of the shirt so that when you happened to look down right below your chin, it looked like, from where you were looking down - that you'd drooled on yourself in a straight line.



This threw me off the whole time because just as I'd introduce myself to someone and start talking my "stuff" my peripheral vision would alert me that I had drool on my shirt and I'd stutter.

And then I'd remember that it was the "I".

So anyway, this year was my first Interbike ever, my very first bike industry trade show.

But having worked in a career, in my normal day job for the past 13 years, where I deal with manufacturers and suppliers on a daily basis, this was my 500 and first trade show.

And as far as trade shows go, they're all basically the same with a few noticeable exceptions.



The cycling industry seems to be made up of 90% men; it's ok to wear t-shirts and shorts in meetings unless you're urbanvelo; there weren't any tiny little 3 wheelers chair things carrying large sized people and instead of waiting to drink alcohol until after the show each day, the kegs and margarita machines are usually wheeled onto the floor around 3pm each day and it's perfectly acceptable to walk around browsing the floor with a drink in hand, doing business.



Ok, enough about trade shows.

On Wednesday, there was cross vegas. And this year, to add to the excitement, there was a wheelers and dealers race for those who work in the bike industry that Andrew, our editor, managed to get us into even after registration was full and closed.

Uh, thanks Andrew.



Rather then flying our own bikes out for a 30 minute ride around on a grass field, Andrew was also able to set us up with some borrowed bikes.

He borrowed a cute little single speed from Bianchi, that he managed to ride pedal-less from the show floor to the hotel, which was a good distance away, which a homeless guy then managed to stuff into the rental car for us without taking the wheels off because we had no tools.



I was to ride on one of those cute little specialized bikes.

With the 4 of us stuffed into the rental "mid sized sedan", bike intact and excited to get going, we took off to the race.

And then we got stuck in traffic. And we arrived with about 20 minutes to spare until the start time.



So I took off, to find my assigned borrowed bike. And after hitting the porta potty and registration where they could not find my name or company anywhere, I came back to the car to announce that I wasn't racing.

To which Andrew replied, Specialized just called me, your bike is here and I'm on my way to registration now. Get on it!



And there they were, the big Specialized van, not 25 feet from our car.

And amazingly all within 15 minutes - I ran over to the van, gave Garth my pedals to put on the bike, ran back to the car, found it was locked with my helmet IN it, stripped down in full view to bare butt and push up bra, because I'd forgotten sport bra, slapped my skinsuit on, pulled my "I Am Cyclocross Magazine" T-shirt on over, pulled my star socks on, ran back to van, pre-rode bike around in a circle, made seat higher, rode like a crazy woman over to find Andrew, couldn't find Andrew and keys anywhere, saw Josh, asked him for keys for helmet, no keys, saw peeps lining up for race, rode around in circles looking for car keys, started asking people for helmets, saw Josh running back with my helmet, grabbed helmet, gave him my bag and camera, rode fast to registration, to front of line of PRO's, grabbed number, signed papers, heard start gun go off, grabbed random people, asked them to pin numbers on, rode fast to course, started alone, and pumped a big gear with my little chicken legs to catch the back of the pack.



I settled back a little when I saw Sheila right ahead of me and thought, I'll pace myself here with her. And then Andrew rode up next to me and yelled out WE MADE IT! and took off away from me.



And then I proceeded to race around the course, pulling cyclocross magazine cowbells that I'd stuffed up my short legs and bra and throwing them at people along the course. Three times around that course to finish LAST and without getting lapped.

100 racers, 8 women and Mark McCormack finished first and I finished last. And in between, well who cares, right? I did it and I was last and he was first.



I Am Cyclocross Magazine.

Happy to be finished and day dreaming a little, I was riding back to the car to change out of my push up bra and t-shirt and Trebon and Wicks were riding around up to the course to do some pre-riding, and they were chatting and not really paying attention and Trebon was riding right towards me and me right towards him and we did that dance that you do when you're trying not to hit someone, but you're both aiming at each other no matter which way you go and we passed within inches, him mumbling danger, danger, and me mumbling will robinson.

And I thought, Jesus Christ, thank got I'm not famous for crashing into Trebon.



Later, during the men's PRO race, while watching them bunny hop at the barriers - I was standing there smiling, happy to be done and drinking a beer, when I noticed someone standing right next to me staring at me hard.



And I turned to see why and he caught my eye and he was drunk as a skunk, sort of weaving back and forth and he yelled at me and pointed, it IS you! I KNEW IT WAS YOU. I was rooting for you the whole time. I always root for the underdog. YOU WERE LAST! RIGHT ON!

And then we high fived each other.

Katy's Cat Thinks It Can Fly

One time when I was about 10 or 11, my $15 pet rabbit jumped from it's perch on my shoulder onto the garage floor and broke its leg.

It was one of those little dwarf rabbits that are as small as your hand. She'd often sit on one side of my shoulder as I went about my 11 year old, after school, business.

Normally she'd jump off as I would lean over to let her back into the cage. But this time she'd decided to take the risk while I was standing straight up.

And we took her to the vet and had her little leg x-rayed and sure enough it was "broke".



I remember my mom calling my dad from the front desk at the vet and explaining that we'd just spent $50 on xrays and that the $15 rabbit either needed a $2000 surgery to put a mini pin into the leg, or a $750 aluminum cast.

And I remember her laughing maniacally while smoking her cigarette, holding the x-rays and telling my dad on the phone, no, we can't do that, that's not an option and that's not nice.

And so we left the vet after a little while, x-rays in hand and went home without the rabbit to mull over our options and after a few hours of me crying and yelling, my mom made the executive decision to go ahead with the $750 cast for the $15 rabbit.

I remember those figures distinctly because for years after wards, my dad would tell the story to anyone who'd listen - emphasizing those two monetary figures. And let us not forget the $50 for x-rays he'd say.

Like if I'd paid $100 to purchase the rabbit initially, it almost would have made sense to cast the rabbit up or maybe even have the $2000 surgery.

The next day, we went back down to the vet and picked up the rabbit with strict instructions about how to take care of her.

I wanted to let her hobble around in my room while recuperating so she'd be comfortable and safe. But my mom said no way. So we compromised and put her in the bathtub in the bathroom next to my room - with her carrots and salt lick and water and blankets.

And immediately, my parents started complaining about the noise the rabbit was making hopping and hobbling around in the bathtub - cast banging on the tub. $15 rabbit with a $750 aluminum cast and a set of $50 x-rays hopping around in the upstairs porcelain bathtub, pooping and peeing and making too much noise.

The next day, while I was at school, my mom was at home having coffee and gossiping and eating donut holes with Mrs. Cook and after a while they couldn't take the "hopping cast on bathtub banging" anymore.

So they put the rabbit in the garage in a box for some temporary peace. And then they forgot about it.

And when I got home I went up to the tub to check in on her and she wasn't there. And then my mom remembered that she'd put her in the garage. And yes, when I went to the box, she was gone.

And so, the search began for the $15 rabbit with the $750 cast. Which really only lasted a little while - because there on the side of the yard on the sidewalk, was part of the little body lying lifeless with the $750 cast fully intact.

Poor little bunny.

Wood Chips and Step Throughs

I guess my cross season started because I raced again on Saturday.

But I must say, this is the least prepared I've been for a season yet. Not that I'm ever really prepared in the way most racers are prepared.



But, most years I've at least been running regularly and doing some running intervals and riding a bit more regularly and taking a spin class here and there and even doing some weight work.

But not this year.

This year, I've been commuting a little and riding a little and I just started running once a week a few weeks ago, if you don't count running up the stairs at BART to catch the last bike accessible train as running.

And tomorrow I'll start taking that spin class down at the Y during lunch.




Last night I dreamt that I was doing that triceps curl weight lifting exercise over and over and over again.

And so here I am at 6am on Monday morning thinking about it and deciding to try and get a little more serious. Today at lunch, I'm doing a run with some intervals in it.

Yep, I'm starting today.

I've been looking forward to cross season for months, but really, doing nothing but thinking about it. I had an odd epiphany at the race on Saturday. As I was riding over to registration I saw someone warming up on a trainer, and I thought - what the hell are they doing? And then I remembered warming up.

Oh yeah, people warm up to race.



So I registered and pre-rode the course once. And then it was time for our race to start.

And then we raced.

During the second lap, my teammate Thomas, rode behind me and asked how I was doing and if I liked the course and chatted about how his wife and his kids would start coming with him to races soon. And some other stuff.



And I could only muster a uh huh every so often.

Because I was racing you know.

And then he pulled ahead and passed me and I'm not sure he ever realized I was in the middle of my race and all.




But the thing I do have dialed in, after 2 seasons of racing cross, is my mounts and dismounts and barrier running and log hopping and pedal positions and step through and bike handling and sand riding and wood chip riding and sharp turning and dry heaving.

what the hell is going on here?

The dog just dragged her ass across the carpet and then pee'd on it, right in front of me.

And I was just thinking to myself that it'd been a week or so that she hadn't pee'd in the house.



It's a metaphor for the human condition.

Some CX Racing in 105 Degrees

I should write about this race before it gets lost in my mind. I'm in this weird limbo stage where I know I have stuff to remember, but there's nothing really prompting me to remember it.

So I sort of remember stuff in a panic lately.

And it's all because I put my phone on top of the car one night, a month or so ago, while pumping gas into a gas can to take it to Morgan when he ran out of gas, because he runs his truck as far as he can on fumes in order to give the middle finger to the oil "man" and he'll sometimes drive an extra few miles to get to a cheaper gas station, while on fumes.

Anyway, as I was proceeding onto the freeway getting a little speed up I heard the phone go kachunka chunka off the roof.

So the replacement phone came a few days later and I was able to sync it up once to get all my contacts. But the calendar never made it over. It's all jacked up. And a soccer / lacrosse/drama mom who races cyclocross and works 1.3 jobs and serves on the PTA board and is wife of the school "carnival chair" needs a PDA to tell her what to do everyday.

For now I have the google calendar texting me. I keep it in my back pocket on vibrate and each time it vibrates I go in a different direction. It's like shock therapy. If I could only get it to scroll the text across my brain and poke me in the stomach at the same time, I'd be golden.

Anyway, so, I raced the first CX race of the season on Saturday.

And I went solo. And I did things like pre-ride the course and put sunscreen on and hydrate and wear gloves and remember to do all my pre-race prep and chit chat and lounge in the shady grass after the race and leisurely talk to other racers while sipping water and eating bananas.

Such is the life of the middle aged cyclocross racin' mom.




And every so often I'd hear a child laugh or whimper or yell and my eye would twitch a little bit. And then I'd remember, that It was all going to be ok.

It was hot as hell. Africa hot. Hot like spicy soup hot. The kind of hot, where all you want do to is stand in a pool of cool clear water in your red white and blue stars and striped bikini and drink ice cold mint julips, hot.

We went off at the whistle and raced around for a bunch of laps. And after the first lap and a half I'd already lost track of how many laps I'd done. I spent a lot of time trying to calculate what lap I was on and how many were left and how many times I did the logs. And trying to statistically analyze the length of the course in time and distance into the 40 minutes we'd be racing on it.

I guess that's what you call the "race fog".

And then I felt that familiar feeling of thinking I wasn't going to make it to the end and why do I do this stuff and the dry heaving and feeling like I had to pee and wanting to stop and grit in my teeth and the things I had to buy at the grocery store on the way home and then by the 3rd lap I'd settled in and heard someone complement me on my smile.

And then we did a few more laps.



And then it was over.

Bike Riding Motivation and Stuff Like That

The other night while lying awake in bed at midnight unable to sleep because it was 95 degrees out and I was kind of waiting for Morgan to get back from his Thursday night ride because he'd been out there a few hours later then normal and because I'd heard people coming and going and so I figured something must have gone wrong but I was too lazy to get out of bed to see ...



I was perusing my blog statistics and pondering why people get my blog when they search on "my rabbits eyes are gooie an stuck shut" and "things to do with motion lotion" when I came across a link that was referring hits to my blog that I'd never seen before.



The link had very recently brought a high number of traffic over to my side in a short amount of time.

So I clicked on it to see what it was. And I found I'd been featured on a "Nursing College and Training" school website in an article labled "50 Great Exercise Blogs That Will Get You Motivated".



They had me listed under the "cycling" category, which was right above the "video game" category, almost at the end.

"Everyone knows moms are busy people, but check out this mom who also finds time to race cyclocross and mountain bikes. This blogger will surely help you find motivation when you see what she can accomplish."

And I thought, I wonder if my garden story was motivating for those nurses. Aren't they kind of in the same category as police people and stuff? They're like nice, wholesome people who want to help others, right?



When Morgan got in at around 1:17 am and after his description of how they lost two people on the night ride and had to go back and find them but they only ever found one, so they came back and drank beer and ate chips anyway, I told him about my discovery and read him the description.

You? he said. Motivating?



Yes, I said. I'm motivating.



And then I thought about this as I was dozing off.

And then I thought about it a little bit more the next morning on the bike ride down to BART. And then some more on the bike ride up into the hills on the way home that evening. And I thought about it even more on the long ride I did on Saturday morning.



And then some more at the cyclocross clinic on Sunday.



And then after the long hike with a bunch of kids I did on Monday afternoon, I thought about it just a little bit more.

And I decided that I think I do kind of exercise a little bit. But maybe cycling has become such a big part of our lifestyle that I don't think of it of active exercise. It's just part of the routine.

The daily, habitual, routine.



But still, motivating? Really I'm just a lazy person disguised as a cyclist.