Open Invitation to ESPN's Tony Kornheiser

Dear Mr. Kornheiser,

I would like to invite you to the funeral of Adam Little this Saturday, March 20th.

Adam Little was hit and killed by a car while riding his bike to work this past Wednesday morning. He was 35. He leaves behind a wife and two young children along with an entire community that knew him as a loving person and all around really great guy.

Perhaps, you can come and explain to his kids why their dad will never again be home for dinner. I'm sure they will understand when you tell them people like you allow yourselves to get so angry at "the little water bottle in the back and their stupid hats and their shiny shorts" that you somehow feel justified to "RUN THEM DOWN, like Wile Coyote's, run them over."

I feel certain his wife and kids will just laugh it off when you explain that you're "not saying you kill them. I'm saying you tap them. Tap them once." It will greatly ease their pain, I’m sure, to hear how "you pop them a little bit and see what happens."

The viewing will be at 11:30am. The funeral will be at 2:00pm at Hartsell Funeral Home in Concord, NC.

I hope to see you there.

Sincerely,
Jodi Winterton
"disgusting poseur"

Giordana Team Camp 2010

As I walked out of Cielito Linda, our favorite Mexican food in Brevard, I glanced back through the window to the booth six of us had occupied only minutes before. Instantly my face contorted to a one-eyebrow-up confused look as my gaze was met by two men who had been sitting in the booth behind us and were now leaning over that booth and sucking the bottom out of the margaritas that Stacie and I had decided not to finish. We laughed so loud I’m sure they heard us through the glass. And laughing was good because just hours prior, there was very little laughing going on and instead of confusion, our faces contorted in sweet agony.

The six of us who were able to make it to camp early on Friday embarked on a swift little 55 miler I had decided on. Side note about being the only one who knows the roads – your fellow riders have to trust your judgment on how hard the ride will be. Too bad for them because, as they learned Friday, I am highly untrustworthy. We climbed Bob’s Creek and then hit the wall that is Sassafrass Mountain. Looking up the road from the bottom, it barely looks walk-able, much less ride-able. And it goes on and on. So with contorted faces of pain, we all began zig-zagging up the steep pitch.

After we all made it to the top, we began a long gradual descent of Gladys Fork and I assured everyone that the climbing was over except for the backside of Caesar’s Head that lead back to the house which, comparatively speaking, was an “easy” climb.

As I stated before, though, I can’t be trusted. I had completely forgotten about 3 good climbs on East Fork and as I was forcing the pedals over to get up those bitches, I could only think that I had successfully made five enemies that day. I was sure they’d be mad, so when I arrived back at the house I began my apologies. To my relief, no one was upset with me. At least that’s what they told me. Although, they could be liars, too, right?

But, I learned my lesson. The next morning I went out early and drove the intended course so there would be no surprises. By this time, everyone that was coming to camp was there and by 11am, we were suited up and ready to ride. The weather was warming; the roads were rolling; the valley was stunning and the snow covered mountain tops were uplifting. We had a great ride with a moderate amount of climbing. Add in Beer n’ Brats for lunch, a bit o’ wine, great company, good conversations, a huge pasta dinner and the day was pretty much as perfect as it could be.

Even warmer weather greeted us for the final installment of Team Camp on Sunday. I had a good hard ride planned for this day – no reason to ease up on the last day. Along with a bunch of shorter and steep climbs, we would also do the front side of Caesar’s Head which is a good 9 mile ascent that only gets steeper as you approach the top. Those 9 miles would be the last miles ridden for the weekend. As we rode that day, I heard rumblings from some that they didn’t think they’d be able to do that climb. That they weren’t quite in shape enough to survive it. So, we decided whoever made it to the house first would grab a vehicle, drive back down the mountain and pick up those who couldn’t finish.

Well, I’m happy to report that when the sweeper vehicle arrived back at the house, it was empty. Everyone decided to tough it out, grinding out the miles one pedal stroke at a time.

Beginning with Sassafrass on Friday, at least once on each ride, I surprised myself by doing something I was SURE I couldn’t do. And by Sunday, I saw a bunch of my teammates doing the very same thing fighting through what they thought they couldn’t do. That was a very proud moment of the weekend for me.

The defining moment, in fact. Bring on the race season.

Happy ridin’.

Cancer Chronicles: The Facebook Effect

Facebook is pretty easy to sum up. Users acquire more friends than they can possibly pay attention to, most of which are blasts from the past they re-connect with for a quick message exchange only to forget about them again a day later, all the while “updating” people on the mostly mundane and uninteresting occurrences in their lives.

And I love it!

It has been fun re-connecting with old friends and I have found FB to be instrumental in organizing and keeping track of my cycling friends. But, I have found something else about FB. It has reminded me that everyone has a story. See, although most status updates are really vague or passive aggressive in an attempt to garner lots of comments to make the user feel justified in their thoughts, occasionally someone will surprise you with something really significant.

Michelle Whitlock, or as I knew her back then, Michi Christy, was a friend of mine in high school. I spent many a weekend night hanging out with her and my other friend Gigi doing whatever it was the teenaged girls should do…and probably a bunch of stuff teenaged girls should not do. We were invincible. We were headbangers. Our hair dos stood so high they were in restricted airspace, especially our bangs. Not unlike most of my friends in high school, though, we lost touch after graduation and went on about our lives and would never have heard from each other again if it hadn’t been for Facebook.

Over the course of several months, Michi’s status updates began touching a nerve in me and I couldn’t quite figure out why at first. As more weeks went by, I began to piece together her story and had a vague feeling that Cancer had really affected her life in some way; although I wasn’t aware to what extent.

Cancer interests me. It interests me because I hate it so much. I ride my bike a lot of miles in the name of Cancer research and I will do it again this year in the 24 Hours of Booty.

Michi has told her story many times through many different venues. But, I think it deserves to be told here as well. Because when I heard Michi’s story, I put my head in my hands a let a very angry toned “Fuck!” slip out of my mouth. Why was I angry? Because I realized that through all my talking and ranting about Cancer, I had not taken nearly enough time to consider that I am, in fact, not invincible. I had stupidly neglected that fact and it made me feel…well, stupid. So, I want to tell you her story in the coming days and weeks.

Believe me, it’s more significant than any status update you’re going to read. Ever.

To learn about and donate to my Booty cause, click here.

To learn about and donate to Michi’s cause, click here.