Baby Steps, Big Gears and Doing My Happy Dance

I’m practically apoplectic at the moment. So happy I could cry. It’s been a super busy, stressful week with business matters so I haven’t had much time to ride. Finally got out yesterday for a little more than an hour. Warmed up on Springwater Corridor. Nice tailwind so I pushed it, feeling good. Figured it was time to resume climbing since the hip has been cooperative. Cemetery Hill is not a long climb but it’s a pretty good measure for me of where I am fitness and injury-wise.

I climbed that mother in the big ring. Okay, okay… Granted I ride a compact crank, but still. The hip held up, my heart rate was up there but not frighteningly so, and my leg speed was pretty good. And I’m pretty sure I was a little faster than had I been spinning granny gears, which is what I’ve had to do for the past 18 months just to get up a hill. I think my “mountain bike hip rehabilitation and training plan” is working! That, and working pedal stroke drills to the point of boredom/tears.

MONDAY: SHORT TRACK
Worked myself up into a nervous frenzy at the prospect of racing short track to the point I was almost sick. I was genuinely intimidated by the thought of racing it. Having been on the bench for so long and watching the whole season roll away from me, without me, I was afraid I’d lost the drive to race. Maybe it’s a little guilt that I haven’t been there for my team on the road, especially when I was so vocal, so outspoken and insistent about boosting women’s road racing last year. Maybe it’s because I came to riding dirt as a way to heal and distract myself from the disappointment of not being able to do road racing (yet) this year, and never expected to find it this much fun. Maybe it’s because I know a lot of people out there and didn’t want them to see what a sissie I am on dirt. For an extrovert, I am uncomfortable being on display when I am working on something, like bike handling skills.

Couldn’t race… too late for beginner and practically on the verge of puking from nerves, so no way I was going to race sport, despite the encouragement of many dirt riding friends insisting I had the skills and fitness to do it. I just didn’t have the confidence. I can’t tell you why, exactly. It’s complex. But I can tell you this:

I rode a few laps on Monday just to get a taste of it.

Mmm… Tastes like Uma’s gonna race sport class next week.

Track Hack, defined (see image)

track hack: [trāk hāk] v. to cough harshly, in short repeated bursts after fiercely exercising on a paved, circular racing course.

n: the savage, wheezing cough that is produced riding most furiously on a paved, circular racing course

n: a mediocre bike rider who attempts to race/ride at a velodrome

First time this year I got to put in a few laps at Alpenrose today. When I say a few I mean a few. Enough to know I’m not really ready to race yet. Forgot about track hack since last year. Lungs feel like they’re bleeding. Heart rate was surprisingly normal. I expected to see a discouraging loss of fitness, but instead it didn’t spike as hard as I thought it would. Average and high were well within norms for me, which is amazing considering I haven’t been “training”. Thought about racing tomorrow but the truth is, I’d blow up pretty early… The legs aren’t there yet. But look at the guns from all that climbing! Damn. At least I’ve got something going on. Maybe I should pedal with my arms? I wasn’t able to really get a good spin on. Maybe next week. Gonna try to get a couple days at the ‘drome each week here on out for rest of season. Mock pursuits anyone?

Oh yeah. The kit is courtesy Yeti’s Grind in Eagle, CO. Best coffee between Boulder and Portland. Serious. They have themselves a little racing team. Mountain bikers mostly. Thought it would be funny to see one of their kits on the velodrome. Teehee.

beer, bugs, bacon, and God

“If God dwells inside us like some people say, I sure hope He likes enchiladas, because that’s what He’s getting for dinner.”
–Jack Handy, for SNL

In my case, if God lives inside me, I hope he likes beer. And bacon. Or maybe… Maybe I just think I like beer, but God’s just pulling my strings and MAKING ME go to Hopworks with alarming frequency. Or maybe Hopworks spikes their beer with crack and God is really a crackhead. Either way… I WIN!

Speaking of Bacon
Organized a dirty ride this past Sunday Surveyor’s Ridge… 25ish miles, 4000 feet of climbing. Not epic to the dudes I went riding with, but epic enough for me. We started at the northern end of the trail which begins with a bunch of climbing. Turns out I can ride my bike uphill, or ride over rocky rooty stuff, or have an asthmatic moment, but I cannot do all three at once. The guys were kind… About 4 miles into it we ducked out onto the road so we could cover more miles and have less suffering. Took the road out to the southern trailhead and singletracked it all the way back. DEFinitely much easier to ride south to north. Next time I will do the whole thing that way, singletrack only.

After the ride we stopped off at Full Sail for beers and food. Here’s a transcript of the ordering of this food. (Stay with me here, it’s funny…)

Uma: I’ll have a beer and a classic cheeseburger with bacon, no mayo.
Joe: Beer and a cheeseburger with bacon, no mayo.
Scott: Beer, and a cheeseburger with bacon, no mayo.
Brian: Beer, and a tempeh burger…with bacon.

Okay, this is probably one of those “ya had to be there” moments. But c’mon. Tell me it’s not funny.

And if God really does live inside us, well… I’d say his cholesterol level might be a little high, but the beer reduces the LDL cholesterol, so there.

Today’s Yoga / Sanskrit Lesson…

Not sure what the Sanskrit word for sellout is, but transliterated it sounds like “Yoga Journal”.

Saw this today when i was reading an article on marketing yoga classes in the U.S.

Talk about irony. “We” yoga teachers are being replaced by “wii”.

You go, wii pipl. You go.

I Eat Bacon and I Crap GOLD!

YES! See! I knew it! Bacon is the key ingredient to successful race training!

Water is for sissies!

I love you, Kristin Butcher. You *are* the man, er… woman!

Triskaidekaphobia? Don’t Believe The Hype!

The sun is here! The sun is here! You remember the sun?! Bright, warm orange-y thing in the sky? I did a little dance last night, chanted the gayatri mantra 108 times BEGGING for it the sun to return and STAY for awhile, and this morning… The sky… It’s BLUE! NOT GREY! Now, I remember… Fruita was already soooooo long ago…

So much for Friday the 13th being bad luck.

And while we’re on the topic, let’s talk about how 13 is actually a woman’s power number. Don’t take my word for it… Go check it out for yourself (that is, if you haven’t already clicked through to VeloNews to read about how a MOUNTAIN BIKER won the last stage of the Dauphiné Libéré!

That ain’t luck, baby. And my new infatuation with dirt ain’t nothin’ but part of the physical rehab plan…
(wink wink)

Once again, mad props to the Cyclepath guys for hooking me up with my new wheels… One HOTT pink spoke in each.

Hide the Booze and the Guns

Eff that… give me the booze. But hide the guns. I’m going to hurt someone.

The weather…

Oh. My. God.

The weather.

Henceforth this region is no longer referred to as the “Pacific Northwest”. From now on it will be referred to as “Baja Alaska”.

I have sooooo got Colorado on the brain. And why wouldn’t I move there now that I know what to do if I am ever accosted by a mountain lion.

Maybe I should rethink my decision to remain childless?

…nah. There’s still this stuff to contend with: