Tour of Cognition:

Booty 2011: Riding Through Hell, and I'm OK With That

2011-07-31T19:08:00.006-04:00

The word for this years Booty was “sweltering.” The forecasted highs for Friday and Saturday were 99 and 98; definitely temperatures worth amending your goals for. And I had a lofty goal of 300 miles. But I also have a hard head - not always a good combination.

My Friday prep for Booty couldn’t have gone more perfectly. I slept in until 5:30am, got up, had a huge blueberry pancake breakfast and laid back down at 10am for a short nap. Then I loaded up my car with my camping gear which I had gotten together the night before and my cooler which I had packed to the gills with heat-beating supplies - frozen water bottles, frozen wash cloths and towels, Smuckers Uncrustables, pasta salad, watermelon and as much ice as I could fit. Oh, I also put my chamois cream in there (try it, you’ll like it).

Jill and I met up with my camping buddies, Steve and Jen, and we all headed to Bootyville to set up camp. Holy shit it was hot doing that; just a small sample of what was to come. After camp set up, we hit The Flying Biscuit for a late lunch. My selection of Pasta and Egg Scramble with Creamy Dreamy Grits left me feeling confident for having a full tank of energy to help get me through the night...or at least until the Midnight Pizza Party!

With belly full, I headed home with Jill for a couple hours relaxation and hydration prior to the start of the event. We cranked the AC down in the house and I had a full hour nap before heading back out to Bootyville. My whole day had gone so perfect, which was so different from in the past. Normally, I’m so jacked that I can barely eat or nap. This year I had no problem with either. Maybe after 7 years of doing this thing, I’ve finally learned the proper prep?

Back at camp, with nary a slight breeze for a bit of relief, we yearned for the start of the ride - but first, a team picture (with Bob Roll), a few announcements from the cancer community and ride organizers, and 30 minutes of lining up 1200 riders. Dripping with sweat already, having done nothing so far, I was anxious to feel the cooling breeze that my bike would provide for me.

As a participant of one of the Top Fundraising Teams, my teammates and I were given the privilege of lining up behind the cancer survivors to lead out the parade lap. It’s both a humbling and uplifting experience to be in such a position. On my way to the start line, I ran in to one of my friends, Kellie, whose bike was decorated with a tractor, stuffed cow, alligator, and several different types of flowers. Her Grandfather, a farmer, had died of cancer among many others of her family and as she told me the stories represented by each object I remember thinking, “Wow, this family has seen enough of this disease. This is simply not fair.” At the start line she handed me a can of hot pink hairspray - breast cancer runs in her family - so, I sprayed my platinum hair pink in a very small effort to show my support.

The first few laps of Booty is an absolute surreal experience. Crowds line the streets with signs and sound making devices screaming their lungs out for you. The homes along the Booty Loop are lined with one yard party after another - people, neighbors, sharing in this unique event. PA systems blare out not just music, but words of encouragement. Just before the right turn onto Hopedale Road, which is re-named Alpe d’Hopedale for Booty, there is a resident with a mic that just talks constantly...for hours. He calls it “Heckle Hill,” but he’s only “heckling” at the beginning while you still have energy and are smiling. By Saturday morning, he’s giving you the news headlines that you may have missed since you were on your bike all night. Then, by Saturday afternoon, he really starts in on the encouragement because he knows that this is about the 75th time you’ve climbed this hill.

Sometime during the second hour or so, I gave a quick glance behind me and found myself looking into the eyes of, none-other-than, Bob Roll, who many cyclists recognize as the voice of pro-cycling. He is a former pro who competed on the European circuit during the 80’s and 90's including the Tour de France. I was a little stunned to see him there, so I let him come around me and then decided I’d sit on his wheel for a while. Well, a while turned into about an hour. After a couple of laps I finally decided to spark up a conversation with him. He was very gracious to everyone who wanted to talk to him. He had lots of people yelling for him on the side of the road. Within a few short minutes, he and I had solved the world’s problems and figured that beer and cycling go perfect together. Thank God we’re not running things, eh?

After I attacked and dropped Bob Roll, I continued to ride until midnight, only having stopped to rehydrate and to have a couple of short conversations with friends. All of my food intake on the bike was Uncrustables, Clif Blocks and gels. I felt really good. Full of energy. Had a good average of 16.8 - remember that includes the parade start. My legs were great. No soreness in my body...yet.

At midnight me, Steve and Jen met back up for the Midnight Pizza Party. I had planned this as one of my bigger breaks cuz I knew I needed to stay topped off with food. At this point, my body was still accepting food. What I didn’t realize at the time was that by morning, my body would not be so receptive.

Back on the road at 12:45, I was feeling great. I was closing in on 100 miles and was getting anxious about hitting 130. It was at the 130 mile mark the last time I went for 300 that my body shut down on me. The pain shooting through every joint from my finger tips to my neck and down my back is still memorable to this day. And it happened almost instantly. I still am not sure how I survived another 170 miles after that other than pure inspiration. So, I was nervous about hitting that point. Regardless, I pressed on and hit 130 feeling surprisingly good.

Sometime around 4am or so, I friend of mine came flying past and he had about 7 guys on his wheel. I sprinted to catch up with them and hung in for a lap, but Andy is a very strong cyclist and I knew I couldn’t keep that effort up given my 300 mile goal, so I backed off and went my own pace. About a half hour later, he lapped me, still with a bunch of guys on his wheel. I didn’t even try to get on this time, but it turned out, I didn’t have to. Andy gave up pulling those guys around and came back to find me. He asked how I was doing and then instructed me to get on his wheel; that he would go my pace and help me around the Loop.

In case you’re not a cyclist, let me try to explain how much easier it is to ride when you can draft off of someone...it’s infinitely easier. I was putting in less effort, but going about 4mph faster by having Andy there. And because I know him and know how good a cyclist he is, I know I can trust him to get me around the Loop safely. Believe me, not everyone is like that. I had a dude nearly put me into a barrier just a few laps after I left Bob Roll (who, btw, is also a trustworthy wheel to follow...very steady). So, all I had to worry about was watching his rear wheel and staying there.

Andy set a perfect pace for me for nearly 3 hours. It’s because of him that by the time I stopped for breakfast, I had 178 miles, which is about 12 more than I would have had by myself. I know that doesn’t seem like a lot, but in perspective he saved me an extra 45 minutes of riding. Also in perspective, the last time I did 300, by breakfast I only had 155. Andy was a huge help. I am still very grateful to him.

It was at breakfast that my stomach quit accepting food. There were scrambled eggs, whole wheat rolls, fruit, oatmeal, bacon and sausage. None of it was appetizing for me. And I couldn’t rely on just cycling food. I still needed real sustenance to get me through the last 122. I forced down what I could before getting nauseous and then had some pasta salad. I knew I needed to eat, but the heat was beginning it’s attack. The thought of food had me dry-heaving.

I’ll tell you what. The sun comes up fast. Just before breakfast, the sky had barely started to lighten and then, within minutes, the sun is up and it’s 1000 degrees.

Back on the bike. A short time after breakfast, I ran across another familiar face, Christina, who I had seen the night before as well. But, this time she played Sherpa to me much like Andy had earlier. Like Andy, Christina is a seasoned cyclist who you can trust to just follow. And follow I did. For about 2 hours. Then we took a short break and rode for another 30 minutes or so. At this point, the fatigue was starting to settle into my legs. The hills were quite bothersome and my lack of food intake was about to threaten my whole day. I was at 251 miles when I cracked. 50 to go. An easy training ride on a typical day for me. But, the heating of the day happened very quickly and although I hydrated well, I could not seem to get any real food into my stomach and cycling food was not cutting it. Then, out of nowhere, my heart broke and I forgot about food and water entirely.

A few months ago Jill surprised me with a 2011 Booty Charm necklace; a limited edition that was designed by Donald Haack Jewelers for this event and sold for donations. With my jersey unzipped trying to stay cool, I could see the charm dancing around my neck each time I climbed a hill. Until it wasn’t there. I looked down and only saw 2 parts of a broken chain; the charm gone. Under normal circumstances, this would only mean we’d go purchase another one, but after no sleep and 250 miles, it became a huge emotional loss and all of the air left my lungs briefly. I rode straight to Bootyville where Donald Haack had a booth set up. I began explaining to them in a very disjointed manner what had occurred. I couldn’t quite get it out properly. I was trying to explain its importance to me but I was aware I was sounding like a fool. The more I tried to not sound ridiculous, the more confused they looked. I finally just said, “I don’t supposed you’d consider replacing it for me?”

“Oh, honey. Of course we would.” New chain. New charm. New resolve.

At this point, Jill had finished her volunteer work and was sitting at camp. I was having to take more breaks now because of heat and fatigue. When Christina left me, my average speed had gone up to 17.8. Within a couple hours it plummeted to 16.3. Each time I stopped, Jill had iced wash cloths and towels for my head, neck, arms, legs and chest. I’d eat as many bites of pasta salad as I could without throwing up and drink extra water then head back out. Oh, but the miles came so slowly, I might as well have been riding backwards. And the heat index was up to 104.

With about 30 to go, I was able to eat half a black bean burger. I was looking at about 2 more hours to reach my goal. I headed back out on the bike.

I rode about 3 laps. And to be honest, this is where it all gets a little fuzzy. As long as I was on the bike and had a wheel to focus on in front of me, I was ok. But, every time I stopped for water, I got very dizzy and the heat and humidity engulfed me. I went through that process a number of times before I found myself self sitting under a tree blacking out with a horrible headache. Head between my knees, I said out loud, “Enough.” The point of this ride is to keep people out of the hospital and I had already heard two instances of emergency vehicles that afternoon. I poured ice cold water over my head and went to my car 5 miles short of my goal.

Jill had already broken down my camp, loaded it in her car and headed to Moe’s to pick up burritos and queso.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it home. I left the bike on the car, barreled through the door and laid on the floor in the middle of the living room with my dog, who was (as usual) extremely happy to see me. Jill arrived shortly after with food and by the magic of being home and in the AC, my appetite returned.

Then I slept for 12 hours.

It’s Sunday afternoon now and already it’s all a blur. The important thing is that we raised 1.25 million dollars for cancer charities. The important thing is remembering why we do this. The important thing is that as I sit here sharing a glass of champagne with my wife, dog asleep at my feet making little doggy dreaming sounds, just as the sticker on my laptop says...Life is Good.

Indeed.

Booty Time: F--- Cancer

2011-06-13T18:41:00.007-04:00

Fuck Cancer.

There, I said it. Think of me what you will for dropping the f-bomb. Sorry if your kids were watching.

Sorry if you’re appalled that there is a word available to me in the English language that allows me to express exactly how I feel about this piece of shit disease...and that I used it.

Actually, no. I don’t apologize.

Say it with me.
Fuck Cancer! It feels really good, doesn’t it?

Scream it at the top of your lungs.

FUCK CANCER!

Wow! You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now, haven’t you?

That’s okay. This is a judgement-free zone.

When I look back, I think it would’ve been nice to stand next to her while she was in that bed...while she was wasting away; hairless, colorless...lifeless...and, if only for a few seconds, to tip-toe to that hospital window, disregard my parents words, and allow all that anger and resentment to fly out of my mouth, out of my pores, out of that window, with a cathartic bellowing of those two words.

But, one of those words was forbidden to me back then.

Cancer stole my Grandmother when I was 12. I’ve been telling this story for many years now trying to find a way to heal. Trying to beat the crap out of cancer. But, curiously, the most important thing I’ve learned over all these years is that my story is not so different from yours.

You taught me that last year.

Last year, I asked you to submit to me the names of your loved ones who had battled cancer; victorious or not. I wanted to take them with me on the 24 Hours of Booty, pinned to my jersey, as a piggyback...as an honor to their fight...because this disease is so much bigger than me.

You blew me away last year. I’m not understating that. I learned so much about you and your loved ones. I connected with you the likes of which I never thought possible. The stories you told me. The hurt. The triumph. You shared it all with me. I was equally humbled and empowered...for me it was amazing, but more importantly, I hope your willingness to share helped you because cancer sucks.

I don’t know how to top what you did for me. I’ve thought about it for almost a year. I’ve contemplated how to return the favor to you. I want to inspire you the same way you inspired me. But, how?

By riding further than I ever have in 24 hours.

301 miles within a 24 hour period is not a claim a lot of cyclists can make. I did it 2 years ago and I remember the hurt all too clearly. I thought I’d have forgotten it by now. Unfortunately, I have the video, which I barely remember making, to remind me:

On that day, I took myself to a place that was far beyond the reach of what most humans will allow themselves to experience by choice; a place that completely broke me both physically and emotionally; a place that changed me for the good...and I’m going there again.

The goal this year is to exceed 301 miles. And I’m taking your personal messages with me. This year, with your donation, write a personal message about how cancer has affected you.

Lost someone close to you? Let them know they are not forgotten.

Know someone fighting cancer right now? Write some words of encouragement.

Know a survivor? Tell them how they’ve inspired you.

Are you a survivor? Send others a message of hope.

Write whatever you want to whomever you want. I’ll have all the messages posted at my campsite during the event.

So, how do you add a message? When you make a donation online, you will see a box for a Personal Message. Write whatever you want in that box. Not donating online? Email, Facebook or a restaurant napkin are fine, too. In any case, I will send you an email confirming I have received your message. Here’s the link to my fundraising page:

http://www.24hoursofbooty.org/site/TR/Bike/General?px=1002716&pg=personal&fr_id=1150

Thank you for your donation.

Fuck Cancer. Cancer sucks. Booty doesn’t.

Jodi

Women in Cycling: Liberate Me, Baby!

2011-03-04T06:59:00.017-05:00

“Many a girl has come to her ruin through a spin on a country road.” – Charlotte Smith, 1896.

Charlotte Smith was a feminist with concerns. Her concern was of the new found freedom that women felt by being on a bicycle. Freed of the heavy, uncomfortable dresses and able to feel the wind on her skin, women could ride as far as their legs would take them. This was a freedom they had never experienced before; a freedom depicted repeatedly in the advertising posters of the day.

Smith feared that this freedom was leading women to ride off on escapades of sin. What a Debbie Downer, eh? The freedom afforded by their bikes allowed them to “mingle” easier with the opposite sex sending them coasting straight down the dirt path of immorality. “The bicycle is the devil’s advance agent morally and physically in thousands of instances,” she once wrote.

You may be thinking, "Oh, c'mon. How can a feminist speak so horribly about a device so liberating?"

Well, Smith’s view on the bicycle is actually the perfect parallel for the complicated feelings within the Women’s Suffrage Movement in the United States. The movement for Suffrage (women’s right to vote and run for office) began in 1848 and by the 1890’s was a very divisive social topic. Many people did not feel it was a woman’s place to interfere in the affairs of the State, including many women. Some women were fine with their current roles. Some wanted to vote, but still felt their place was in the home. Some felt they deserved the exact same rights as men, which was a very extreme view to have. Let’s not forget, women had only just started putting pants on for the first time (thanks to the bicycle)!

Despite Charlotte Smith’s feeling that bicycles were “indecent and vulgar,” she was a central figure in the feminist movement. She fought for women’s rights in the workplace, edited two women’s magazines, lobbied and pushed for women to get into business, and was known to knock a guy over the head with her umbrella if she caught him mistreating a lady. So, I can only fault her so much.

To be fair, Smith’s remarks probably held some truth to them. In the late 1800’s, the lives of young women were looked after very closely and their interaction with the opposite sex was strictly guarded. They were not afforded much independence at all and they rarely left the home by themselves.

Oh, thank God for the bicycle, right?

Thanks to the bicycle, women were finding a way to explore the world for themselves and, for that matter, explore themselves. Courtships changed as women started experimenting with relationships outside of their strict households. This was the very beginning of women taking charge of their own sexuality!

Oh, thank God for the bicycle, right?

The religious community was in a haze of confusion on what to do. Some churches sided with Charlotte Smith’s view that the bicycle was a downward spiral of sin and loudly denounced the use of the vehicle by women. Others were concerned that their congregations were shrinking as more and more people chose riding their bikes on Sundays instead of worshiping. In fact, several pastors took their services out of the church and onto the bicycle, meeting the cyclists on their own turf. It was the perfect compromise!

Oh, thank God for the bicycle…(seriously, God, I’d personally like to thank you for the bicycle. Amen.)

So, the general concern in the anti-women-on-bicycle movement was that, given her newfound independence, women’s role in society would change completely and permanently. And you know what? They were right.

Oh, thank God for the bicycle!

Women in Cycling: Get Me Out of This Dress!

2011-03-03T08:35:00.025-05:00

“Let me tell you what I think of Bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel.”
- Susan B. Anthony, February 2, 1896

I read that quote for the first time recently. I instantly attached myself to it. After all, as a woman who loves the freeing feeling of being on a bike, I knew exactly what Susan B. Anthony was talking about.

Or did I?

The bicycle was brought to America in 1876 by Colonel Albert Augustus Pope. At that time, bikes had huge wheels in the front and teeny tiny wheels in the back. The bigger the front wheel, the faster the bike. In fact, they went so fast, that most horses couldn’t keep up with them. And since you didn’t have to feed a bike, the “high wheelers” became a much more economical form of transportation than horses. The bicycle was an instant success.

The high wheelers, though, were highly dangerous. They were difficult to mount and the front wheels were so big that hitting any sort of rut in the poorly maintained, horse destroyed roads would send the rider crashing down to Earth. It was during this time that the League of American Wheelmen (L.A.W.) fought for road improvements. Road improvements that would pave the way for the invention of the automobile.

Rather quickly, a new iteration of the bike dawned – the type that we all know and love to this day – with 2 wheels of the same size and a chain that drives the rear wheel. This bike became known as the “safety” because…well, it was safer. Popularity of the safety soared. Hundreds of manufacturers popped up almost overnight as bikes were selling by the hundreds of thousands by 1896. And at $50 - $150 each, it was driving millions of dollars into the American economy.

But enough about the general awesomeness of the bicycle, how did this silly little thing emancipate women?

Think back to what you know about life for women in the late 1800’s. Firstly, women only wore dresses. Huge Victorian dresses. Huge Victorian dresses that oftentimes couldn’t fit through doorways! Women were strapped tightly into corsets - a garment that was not only painful to wear, but was extremely detrimental to internal organs and made it hard for women to breathe. Secondly, women stayed in the home and didn’t wander very far. Lastly, they were discouraged from exercise – it was thought to be bad for them; bad for their reproductive organs.

Enter the bicycle.

The popularity of the bicycle could not be denied. The craze exploded like a cargo ship of Mentos sinking into a sea of Diet Coke. And women got into it. They really got into it. However, it didn’t take long to realize that trying to pilot a bicycle dressed in “proper” women’s clothing was nearly impossible.

Almost immediately, women started tossing their dresses aside in favor of more appropriate cycling clothing. Corsets were the first to go – if she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t ride. And that was a huge deal back then. The use of a corset defined the curves of a women’s body and gave a visual definition of gender roles during that time. Refusing to wear them caused a great uproar especially among men and church groups who feared the blurring of those roles would lead to the infringement of man’s domain.

The concern of gender roles would only increase as women’s riding fashion continued to change. Once free of the corset, the dresses got smaller. Woman finally got tired of trying to ride in a long dress altogether and began opting for a garment called “Bloomers”. Emily Bloomer had developed the shorter skirt with flowing trousers underneath in the 1850’s. But, they caused such an outrage (the thought of a woman wearing any sort of pants was completely unimaginable …only men wore pants; it defined him), that they didn’t really catch on…until the bike came along.

Bloomers became the most useful bike riding garment, but were still not an acceptable form of women’s fashion off the bike. Off the bike, women were still expected to be in their dresses which caused problems of its own. One New York [state] school board banned female school teachers from riding a bike to work to prevent them from showing up in bloomers. “If we do not stop them now they will want to be in style with the New York [City] women and wear bloomers. Then how would our schoolrooms look with the lady teachers parading about among young boys and girls wearing bloomers…We are determined to stop our teachers in time, before they go that far,” said one trustee to the New York Times .

Funny thing is, for all the controversy they caused, the bloomers popularity was short-lived. Although functional, the lady cyclists actually found them ugly and started rejecting them in favor of shorter skirts. Now women were showing their legs. Pictures of women wearing pants (GASP!) even started showing up in advertising and on cigar boxes; the first gender-benders of the New World! American Society was aghast at the impropriety that the bicycle had begun; aghast that women were demanding proper riding clothing…aghast that women were demanding anything at all.

It was the mid 1890’s and women were spiraling out of control at the hands of the bike. In a few short years, the entire image of a woman had changed. But, the emancipation went beyond just clothing. Women were experiencing a freedom they had never known before.

And not all feminists were happy about it. Up next, the anti-cyclist women's movement.

24 Hours of Booty 2010: The Piggyback

2010-08-05T08:29:00.044-04:00

30 miles in about 12 hours. I think that sets a new record, right?

My Booty started with a broken rear brake lever so my first stop in Bootyville after setting up camp was at the “Bike Medic” tent otherwise known as “Bicycle Sport.” My sweet bike couldn’t possibly have been in better hands, after all, that’s where I purchased her. Ilan said he needed a couple of hours, but that he could have it fixed for me before the ride started. And he did! Whew!
While my bike was being tended to, I took a stroll around Bootyville. The first thing that caught my eye was a tent set up for The Melting Pot. The Melting Pot is one of my favorite restaurants, so I was curious about what they would be serving. Nobody was at the tent yet, so my curiosity would have to wait.

Along the other side of Bootyville, I found a large Booty themed canvas on a table scattered with black Sharpies. I picked one up and adhered my thoughts to the material. So did others.
Directly next to that was another place to display your thoughts. Mine was pretty self explanatory.

Feeling empowered by my public declarations of hate, I snuck back to The Melting Pot tent. Damn, still nobody there. I began walking back to camp.

And then I saw them. They walked right by me. I instinctively turned on my heel and matched their pace until their procurers stopped and looked at me suspiciously. OK, maybe I was walking a little close, but, c’mon, I’ve never seen so many chocolate covered strawberries in one place before. Tray after tray. Cart after cart. White chocolate. Dark chocolate. Milk chocolate. I was like Charlie entering the Wonka factory. Eyes huge. I may have drooled a bit. If you had an unlimited supply of chocolate covered strawberries in front of you, what would you do? The Melting Pot served them for 24 hours straight. I don’t know the exact number, but I do know that’s a lot of strawberries!

Back at the Bicycle Sport tent, Ilan had restored my baby to like new condition. I thanked him and went back to camp to put on my jersey.

My jersey. It started with a silly idea I had one early morning in January. I was registering myself for the event when I started remembering the whole reason Booty means so much to me: my Grandma dying from ovarian cancer when I was 12. I started thinking about the last movie I saw with her, “An American Tail.” I found the theme song on Youtube that morning and I watched it with tears in my eyes.

Sitting there alone, I began to wonder if anyone else registering for the event was experiencing the same type of thing. Then something hit me that was so obvious that it’s embarrassing I hadn’t really thought about it before. There’s no reason my Booty has to be just about my Grandma. I know for a fact there are lots of people out there sitting alone and crying over a bad hand that cancer dealt them. I knew right then wanted all my friends involved. But how?

The Piggyback

I wanted to hear your stories. I wanted to be affected by you. I wanted to cry with you. And delight with you. And be angry along side you. I wanted to honor you and your losses and survivorships and fights. This would be the defining factor in this year’s Booty for me. But how could I factor that in to the bike ride?

There is a line in one of my favorite songs that says, “I want to tell the world I’ll give them all a piggyback and try to take away my negative effect.” The song is not necessarily about cancer, but it is about holding up the weight of someone who is sick. If you have watched a loved one fight cancer, I challenge you to listen to this song and not feel something.

And so the idea of the piggyback jersey was born. I asked everyone who would listen: My family. My friends. My Facebook friends. Forum members. My co-workers.

And you responded…in a big way. I received names week after week and day after day.

Your Granddad, Duke, died of brain cancer. Your mom, Lillian, died of ovarian cancer. Your Uncle Dale died of brain cancer. Your Aunt Bettina beat stage 3 lung cancer. You lost your Mom, Elizabeth last Christmas to colon cancer and you feel alone. You survived cervical cancer and found a surrogate to carry your biological child. Your cousin Melissa died of stage 1 cervical cancer. Your dad, Ron died of colon cancer after a 7 year battle.

You lost your sister, Lorraine, in April to breast cancer. Your sister in law, Missy, is fighting breast cancer. Your friends Jim and Clay were both recently diagnosed with prostate cancer and are undergoing surgery next week. Your dad, Arnold died of Lymphoma while your mom, June is currently fighting breast cancer. Your wife lost both her parents, Viv and Al, to cancer as well as your good friend, Ed. Jen has been fighting breast cancer for 3 years. Emily beat thyroid cancer when she was 19. Judy, Bob and Sarah all beat cancer!

Jody is currently fighting breast cancer and just finished her second dose of chemo. Your Mother in Law, Barbara, is a breast cancer survivor. Your grandma, Giggi, died of esophageal cancer. You’ve lost your mother in law, Ginger and grandmother, Betty. You lost your mom, Nancy when you were 1 year old. Your friend, Velinda, just celebrated 12 years cancer free! Your Uncle John has survived throat cancer twice. Your friend Heidi survived rectal cancer and is currently cancer free. And the list goes on and on.

YOU affected me profoundly this year before I even threw a leg over the top tube. Last year, I defined my own experience by riding 300 miles and breaking myself physically and emotionally. This year, you defined the experience for me. You gave me 84 names to give a piggyback to; to take along with me on this journey. And let me tell you, they all came willingly. I could feel them rustling in the wind behind me as I rode and so I thought about them constantly. And when I wasn’t riding, I displayed my jersey at camp for everyone to see.

I don’t know my final tally. My odometer crapped out Friday night after only 30 miles. I was so upset when I noticed. I wanted to be able to tell you all exactly how far I carried your loved ones. In the end, I spent about 12 hours on the bike. I estimate about 170 miles.

My head was dizzy and I was beat as I left Bootyville, but as soon as I got home, I was ready for more.

I‘m already thinking of next year; I hope you will all decide to be involved again. I hope that sharing your stories was as therapeutic for you as it was for me. I hope you realize although you have lost a lot to cancer you don’t have to lose yourself. I hope you never forget your loved ones. I hope that you feel ok with crying about your loss even if it’s been 23 years, like me. I hope you keep fighting and I hope you beat the shit out of cancer. I hope you never feel alone and I hope that someday, if you need it, there is someone there to give you a piggyback.

F*ck Cancer. Cancer sucks. Booty doesn’t. Thanks for playing and I’ll see you next year!

A Star is Born (not really, but I did get on TV)

2010-07-23T13:12:00.006-04:00

Earlier today I appeared on Charlotte Today to talk about my experience with 24 Hours of Booty. I'm not bragging, but I do see some star quality in the cute blonde chick.

But, seriously, a want to send a huge thanks to Charlotte Today, its hosts and staff for allowing me the opportunity to come on the show and talk about something so close to my heart.

Also, notice that Colleen is pedaling twice as fast as I am. She's competetive, that one.

Oh, and try to ignore "The Doctors" promo...blah, blah...sorry I didn't cut that out.

Video is courtesy WCNC-TV.

Cancer Music

2010-07-22T08:33:00.004-04:00

I love music. I mean really, who doesn't? I plan on listening to a lot of it during the 24 Hours of Booty. There have always been several songs among the thousands I own that really make me grit my teeth remembering my own personal experience at the age of 13 watching my Grandma fight and lose her battle with ovarian cancer.

I was close to her. I spent my summer vacations with her and my handicapped Grandfather camping at Disney World in Orlando, where I was born (I was born at a hospital, not Disney, although, sometimes I like to say Mickey and Minnie are my birth parents). Oh, she was a hard ass, don't get me wrong. Some would say she was strong, but that would be putting it nicely. She was opinionated. I know now, she was the product of the life she had been handed.

Juliet Legendre was shunned by her large family (11 siblings, she was the youngest) for being born out of an affair, something that was not her fault, of course, but something for which she bore the burden. She took charge. She married a pure-hearted military man...a man who would father her three children, one of which is my mother. Master Sergeant Raymond Penda would be called to duty in WWII. He would be taken prisoner by the Japanese in the Philippines and survive the Bataan Death march and 5 years as a Prisoner of War under insanely corrupt conditions while watching two thirds of the prison population die around him. He would come home from Bataan and try to become the family man he wanted to be. With their youngest child being only 10 years old, Grandma faced another one of her many challenges in life.

The affects of the imprisonment on Raymond’s body would become too much even for him. He suffered strokes and heart attacks. He became what you and I would call a vegetable and would need to re-learn how to eat, talk and walk, which he did eventually. For years the military refused to acknowledge that the stress he had endured in Bataan could possibly be causing these episodes. They fought for military benefits, but none came. My Granddad, an American POW, had very quickly been forgotten by the government he had served and suffered for. With 3 children and mounting medical bills, Grandma was forced to become the sole provider for her family having no marketable skills. She did what she could, though and she made it work.

Juliet’s hard personality matched the life she was given. I know that now. I didn't know that then. Not that it mattered when I was 13. She and Raymond were my summertime buddies; my friends. They own some of my best childhood memories.

Grandma was the first person in my life to pass away. Perhaps that's why I cling on to her memory so tightly. Maybe it's because I made a promise to her I know now I can't keep - I can't cure Cancer.

The last movie I ever saw with my Grandma was called "An American Tail." You know it. Fivel gets lost as his family immigrates to America because there "are no cats in America!" Kinda funny given that Raymond's parents were Polish immigrants and Juliet's family was French-Canadian. So, naturally, the first song that absolutely breaks me every time I hear it is the theme from

that film. Eerily, the lyrics haunt me…in a good way.

The Most Ridiculous Article I’ve Ever Read

2010-07-16T10:08:00.016-04:00

Creative Loafing, a free entertainment magazine available in the Charlotte, NC area, published an article recently by staff writer Tara Servatius called “The Cycling Epidemic.” It has to be one of the most ridiculous pieces of garbage I’ve ever read…even for Citizen Servatius. Here’s the link:

http://charlotte.creativeloafing.com/gyrobase/the_cycling_epidemic/Content?oid=996069

Go read it. No, seriously. Go read it. I’ll wait.

Really? Comparing the risks of riding a bike to the risks of smoking? Are you a fucking idiot?

There’s so much wrong with this article it’s hard to decide where exactly to begin. I guess the most logical starting point is to address the very question that Citizen Servatius poses: “So, where are the public service announcements against bicycling on public roads?” (Ms. Tara clearly believes she has provided sufficient evidence to demand such a thing.)

The answer to that is pretty easy – because no matter how craftily you skew the numbers for your cute little magazine, no logical human being is going to believe that cycling is as likely to kill you as smoking. Your numbers are about as solid as the diarrhea that you’re trying to sell as gold. So instead of using Freakonomic’s to prove your case, let’s simply look at the numbers of death per year in America for each:

Number of deaths per year related to smoking according to the Center for Disease Control: 443,000

Number of bicycle deaths per year according to 2008 NHTSA Traffic Safety Stats, the latest available: 716

Yes, clearly cycling is to be feared as much as smoking.

Moving on –we’re 12 times more likely to die biking to work says a study done by Rutgers. Um, Tara, did you also happen to notice that same study found those "shocking" numbers could easily be reduced if American communities could follow the lead of biking policies put in place by countries like the Netherlands and Germany? In fact, the study says all kinds of glorious things about biking. Maybe you should read it again (or for the first time). Here's the link: http://policy.rutgers.edu/faculty/pucher/AJPHfromJacobsen.pdf

Go read it. No, seriously. Go read it. I'll wait.

Tara, you may also be surprised to find that Rutgers has done numerous studies on the benefits of active communities that encourage walking and biking. Here's one as an example: http://policy.rutgers.edu/faculty/pucher/JPAH08.pdf

Go read it. I'm good at waiting.

Back to Upstanding Citizen Servatius. Forget the fake stats in your article – they are deliberately misleading. Interestingly you mention that walking is even riskier (23 times riskier!) than driving, but make no suggestion to outlaw that.

But, according to you, because cyclists can get hit and killed by motorists (which, according to the NHTSA, is the motorists fault 90% of the time), we should punish the cyclists by outlawing cycling? By your own reasoning then, and using the example you mention in your article, we should be punishing children because they can die of SIDs and we should also be punishing pregnant women because they can die from H1N1.

You may hold many awards for your writing, but this article alone negates all of them.

Forget the re-working of East Blvd – I haven’t been held up there since the change was made, so it’s a moot point anyway.

Forget the so-called lawsuits against drivers that will “wreck you financially for the rest of your life” none of which did you cite because they simply don’t exist. They don’t exist. Sorry, but motorists are rarely cited for hitting cyclists…or pedestrians or even other cars for that matter.

Forget that same old “poor you” argument because you had to cross a double yellow line to get around a biker – I’ve done it. It’s just not that hard; at least not for me. If it’s that’s hard for you, then maybe the State of North Carolina needs to re-think allowing you to hold a drivers license.

Forget the dogging of Mayor Anthony Foxx for supporting bicycling advocacy – most community leaders do because it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the benefits of cycling far exceed the drawbacks. It’s been documented and proven time after time after time after time.

Forget your suggestion that cyclists don’t accept some of the blame – that’s simply not true. They do. There’s a huge initiative within the cycling community to accept the same responsibilities as motorists when it comes to the Share the Road Campaign. If you’d spent a little time in the community before publishing your article, it would have been the first thing you’d have noticed. Too bad you didn’t bother.

Forget this statement: “It’s politically incorrect to point out the risks of cycling because cyclists have become yet another protected class.” Being a protected class has nothing to do with political correctness or the risks of cycling. It has to do with being an American, North Carolina, Char-Meck Taxpayer. All taxpayers are a protected class in this country. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The funny thing is you present all this stuff like you’ve discovered the proverbial nail in the coffin to end cyclist’s rights to the roadways, but the reality is none of it makes any sense. In fact, I’d argue that you’re the one being righteous to the point of coming unglued.

I will agree with your final statement, though – if they died another way, it would be called an epidemic. But you should complete the sentence:

If they died another way, it would be called an epidemic by an irresponsible media report that would invoke unnecessary fear in a mostly over-reactive society. Kinda like the article you just wrote, Citizen Tara.

Bottoms Up for BOOTY!

2010-06-17T06:49:00.002-04:00

Mac’s Speed Shop BBQ. Olde Mecklenburg Brewery beer selections. The chance to win a Pinarello bike among other prizes…lots and lots of prizes (lots of non-cycling prizes, too)! What else could you possibly need for a fun Thursday evening out with friends? Oh, and did I mention you’ll be helping the fight against cancer, too?

As a fundraiser for 24 Hours of Booty, our Booty team, Team Gita, has organized the 4th Annual “Bottoms Up for BOOTY!” event. This year’s installment will be at Mac’s Speed Shop on South Blvd in Charlotte. They have graciously donated their restaurant for the event and, really, have you been able to find ANYONE who doesn’t like Mac’s? No, you haven’t.

Tickets are $25 and here’s what you get aside from the good feeling of donating to a charity – a Mac’s BBQ plate w/ 2 sides, a commemorative “Bottom’s Up” cup which you’ll need for sampling the beer provided by Olde Mecklenburg Brewery, a Charlotte favorite. You’ll also get one raffle ticket and are welcome to purchase more if you’d like. Our goal is to have no one go home empty handed.

The bottom line about Bottom’s Up is it will be great fun as always. So mark your calendars for Thursday, July 22nd. Now go to the website and purchase your tickets!

http://bottomsupforbooty-efbevent.eventbrite.com/

Did I mention LOTS of prizes?

STOP! Booty Time!

2010-06-08T06:57:00.005-04:00

Last year I suffered through 301 miles on my bike all in the name of raising money and awareness to fight my nemesis: Cancer.

The experience is still pretty fresh in my mind and although I swore I’d never attempt 300 again…well, I’ve started thinking about it. I like a good challenge. I like to push myself. But, I also like to socialize – something I have not done enough of at this event in the past. And so I shall forgo another 300 mile attempt and instead focus on getting to know my teammates and hearing stories from more participants. I’ll still ride; but perhaps only 200 miles this year. I will document and share the stories I hear.

And I’d love to hear your Cancer story. I’d love to ride in honor of you and your loved ones. If you’d care to share, feel free to leave a comment.

But, of course, this event is about awareness AND money. So, I need your money, too. Got an extra $5? Nobody would appreciate it more than me. Small contributions made up the bulk of my fundraising last year.

They really do add up to a lot. If you can give, you may do it online with the link below. Don’t wanna do it online? Drop me a line and we can figure something out. All donations are tax deductible and you will be provided a receipt.

Visit Jodi's 24 Hours of Booty page.

Thanks for your ongoing generosity.

Open Invitation to ESPN's Tony Kornheiser

2010-03-19T07:04:00.002-04:00

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

2010-03-08T12:17:00.009-05:00

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

2010-03-03T06:06:00.008-05:00

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.

BMI Freak Out...Officially Over.

2010-02-25T07:55:00.004-05:00

6 weeks after being knocked upside the head with the scale at my doctor’s office, I’ve settled into my new training routine with my new coach. My BMI freak out is over. My cute little beer gut has shrunk and I’m beginning to see the outlines of the abs I once had. But, more importantly, I’m starting to feel strangely strong.

Not necessarily cycling strong – I have not really tested that yet due to poor weather and the fact that, thus far, my training has been focused on low intensity to increase my endurance – but overall I feel strong. That’s because Coach has had me hitting the weights. HARD. I have not lifted like this since I was a Div. 1 soccer player in college.

In the past, I’ve read article’s suggesting that heavy lifting for cyclists is a bad thing. The epitome of this can be seen in Lance’s comeback to cycling last year. For the 3 years he was out of the sport, he had been lifting weights and had gained a significant amount of muscle weight. Theoretically, when he came back to the sport, the extra weight hindered his cycling. This year, when you see pictures of Lance, you can easily tell that he has lost a lot of that excessive bulk and dropped his weight. Based on this exact scenario, I have shied away from heavy lifting in the past.

But, there’s one problem with my reasoning…I’m no Lance Armstrong. I’m not a world class athlete. And I’m a girl. What does this mean…or, rather, what am I hoping this means? Not being Lance means I have to build the strength before I can lose it and being a girl means 1) it’s harder to gain strength and 2) I lose my strength faster than my male counterparts. So, that leads me to 2 conclusions 1) I shouldn’t train like a guy and 2) I don’t need to worry about bulking up with heavy lifting. As a female, that’s really not going happen much. So, basically, I’m hoping to get the strength benefit without the excessive weight.

That doesn’t mean I’m not going to gain muscle weight. I am and I have. In fact, so far it would appear that each pound of fat I’ve lost, I’ve replaced with a pound of muscle, but I’m ok with that. The lifting I’m doing is cycling specific – I won’t be lifting heavy weights 3 days a week year round. In fact, at this point, the lifting begins to decrease more to strength maintenance while my time and intensity on the bike begins to increase. So, theoretically, my muscle weight gain should cease and I should begin burning mad fat. And having leaner muscles means I burn fat faster even when I’m not on the bike. Man, I’m making this sound GOOD! But the proof is in the pudding (I have NO idea what that even means).

Basically, it’s time to put my chin to the stem and see if this lifting is gonna effect my cycling in the way I’ve been hoping. The next few months will be the tell all.

For now, I’m just glad my clothes are getting baggy again.

Happy ridin’!

OMG! My BMI! WTF?

2010-02-03T08:29:00.005-05:00

I’m officially overweight. My Body Mass Index is technically in the “Overweight” category for the first time in my life. I’m not really sure how it happened… well, I have an idea on how it happened…I’m just surprised my weight shot up so quickly. But, I’m glad it happened.

Glad? says you. Yes, glad, says I.

It’s a serious reminder that I am not one of those women who is perpetually thin no matter what I do. I’ve been athletic my entire life, and still am, so weight has never been a high priority issue for me. In fact, up until last year, I stayed within 15 pounds of my high school weight. But, I’m coming up on my 35th birthday this May, and my metabolism has become about as efficient as driving a dump truck with the emergency brake on. Unfortunately, I only noticed this after a doctor’s appointment a few weeks ago. I went in for a sinus infection and came out demoralized by the reading on the scale.

I don’t want to give the impression that I’m obsessed with my weight and the scale, per se. I’m not. I never have been. I am, however, obsessed with my overall health (always have been); weight being only a small part of the equation. Heart disease runs rampant in my birthmother’s family and my birthfathers side has a whole other host of problems, so I have taken the time to educate myself on health and fitness and nutrition. What I realize today, though, is that I need to take what I know and change my thinking about it.

My entire athletic life has been sporadic exercise. That’s what I’m used to. On season. Off season. 4 months hard. 1 month off. It’s worked for nearly 35 years.

But, I can’t do that anymore. My body won’t let me. I need to re-train myself after all this time. I need to get more consistent about my exercise. I train to race my bike and that helps to keep me motivated. But the days of going out on the bike and hammering 18 hours a week for four months only to burn out in May have got to end. I can’t allow myself to burn out. But this is going to be a hard transition. All out is all I know. So the question is: do I have enough discipline to hold myself back? And the answer is no.

So, I’ve hired a coach. And we have discussed at length all that I’ve written here. And it will be up to her to design a program I can stick to. She says she can do it and I’m on board. I agreed to do everything she asks – no more, no less.

We’ve been at it for nearly 4 weeks. It’s a lot different than anything I’ve ever done. So far, I’m feeling really good. I’ve lost some weight and I’m not feeling overwhelmed. I have time for my family and I’m not drained of energy at work, but I still feel like I’m getting good training for the race season. Am I going to come out with guns drawn for the March and April races? No. But then, that’s not the goal is it?

Happy ridin’!

Soggy Bottom Dollars

2010-01-25T13:07:00.001-05:00

Most training rides typically include a stop at a gas station for drink refills, snack, potty break or whatever. This past Saturday’s ride was no different.

I walked carefully around the store, not only because walking in cycling shoes is as awkward as walking in ski boots, but because I was taking careful inventory of what I wanted to eat. I decided on a turkey sandwich and proceeded to the cashier.

My total was somewhere around 3 bucks. Once I finally fumbled and bumbled my plastic baggie containing my wallet out of my jersey pockets, I heard the cashier say something to me. “Excuse me?” I replied. I couldn’t hear him through my ear warmers.

“I said, ‘Thank you, by the way.’”

I stared at him confused.

“For putting your money in a plastic baggie,” he said as he pointed at my wallet. “Usually, you cyclists come in and pull wet bills out of your jersey pockets and hand it to me. I’m sorry, but I don’t want your soiled bills. It’s gross. So, thank you for using a baggie.”

I stood there for a minute. He was absolutely right. That is very gross. When you think about it, sweat is mostly just less concentrated pee. And would you want to handle cash that someone has pee’d on? Probably not unless you have a pee fetish. And if you have a pee fetish…well, that’s a different blog.

So, my fellow cyclists, please be considerate and keep your sweaty dollars to yourself. Use a baggy and make someone’s day!

Happy riding!

Missing You Now

2010-01-15T09:22:00.004-05:00

From a forum friend of mine, GlennK, responding to my inquiry about how cancer has affected your life:

"Great-grandmother died of colon cancer at the age of 56 (never knew her)
Grandmother died of lung cancer at the age of 64 (I was 13)
Mother died of kidney cancer that spread across her entire body and was dead within 86 days. For my birthday present (which was four days away), I sat by her bed asking and crying for her to let go. She did and the pain was over....

I have never shared this with anyone:

Missing you now....
Your gentile voice...Your loving nature...
Patience and comfort...
Respect and understanding...
I can still hear you now
From within my soul guiding me now
Protecting me from those whom would hurt me
Helping me to understand how to respect and love myself
You always tried to help me see the best in myself
Even though it was impossible for you to do yourself
You tried your best and for that, I will always love you

Now that I see you here
gasping your last breaths
wishing I could do something to ease your pain
all i can do is let you move on
knowing, I will miss you...

One day, I will see you again
I know you are waiting
When that day will be, I don't know
But know this, I love you so

So, if I begin to forget you
Please forgive me now
I don't mean to, its just you just seem so far
oh, how I am missing you now... "

Thank you Glenn for that beautiful poem.

You can help fight Cancer...

I'm Actually Speechless

2010-01-11T14:48:00.005-05:00

Dude, WTF? Even if you are getting paid to wear this, you had have been dissappointed when you showed up for team camp, opened your team kit and saw this staring back at you. And the National Champions on the team wiped their forehead's and thought, "My win at the big dance could not have come at a better time." The bike is pretty sweet, though.

I Want to Hear Your Cancer Stories

2010-01-08T08:41:00.010-05:00

I know it seems early to be talking about an event that is still 6 months away. But, with 1500 people dieing EVERY DAY in the U.S. from Cancer, I figure it's never too early to begin fundraising to find more treatments.

For the 4 years I have particpated in 24 Hours of Booty, I've ridden in memory of my Grandmother, Jillian L. Penda, who died of Ovarian Cancer when I was 13. Last year, friends and family helped me topple my fundraising goal and inspired me to ride over 300 miles during the 24 hours. It was a fantastic and draining milestone. For the fifth installment of Jodi's Booty, I've decided to do something different.

The scope of cancer goes well beyond just me and my Grandma. So I am asking my friends and family to tell me their stories. I want to know how Cancer has affected your life. I want to know the names of those you have lost and of those who have survived and of those currently fighting. From now until the start of the event, I will post your stories to this blog and to my fundraising page. On the day of the event, I plan to attach all the names I have gathered to my jersey and I will ride with every single one of them on my mind.

So, if you'd like, please share your stories in the comments section of this Blog or if you are my Facebook friend, leave in on my wall. Don't know what the 24 Hours of Booty is? Check out my Blog from last years event: http://jodiwinterton.blogspot.com/2009/07/24-hours-of-booty-part-1-gypsy-road.html

Care to donate? Visit my 24HOB fundraising page.

Thanks to all of you willing to share:

Squirrel Master (forum member)
I lost my 28 year old cousin Dec 4 2008 from lung cancer, never smoked or worked around any asbestos or any other bad stuff. I think about him every day, and miss him more than anything.

E. Tinker (forum member)
A couple of years ago my wife was diagnosed with melanoma and had to have a milignancy removed...luckily she is very cognizant of her body and noticed the early warning signs before things got to a more serious stage (she caught it at the in situ stage, meaning it hadn't developed further than the first few layers of skin). We now have to be very diligent aboout things like her exposure to sun and checking for any other odd skin growths.Considering that melanoma is the most serious form of skin cancer we do live with a certain fear of recurrence...but we've also educated ourselves and familiarized ourselves with the early warning signs so that we can be be proactive and not get caught off guard.

ridenfish39 (forum member)
It (I hate using that word) took,My father at 49 (renal cell cancer) This was 10 years ago and it still affects me greatlyMy fathers mother (pancreatic, I never met her)My mother's sister at 50 (brain cancer) My uncle at 38 (he smoked, lung cancer)My fathers sister shortly after he died (skin cancer)and other people I knew as friends.

BipBip2fast4you (forum member)
My best friend Serge died at 20. I met him when we were 5. We spent so much time together on the way to school, in class, after school, he was always helping me 'cos I forgot my books or so all the time, playing together so often. He makes me discover the 1st pc I've ever seen and much more. Just before dying he was always there for me. I wanted someone who could record a video of me sliding in the snow with my car. He was there in the cold while I, stupid idiot, was having fun. He died a few weeks after that and I can't take the fact out of my mind that may be it was my fault if he got cold and dies so early. I'll never know but I decided that I 'll live my hole life for both of us."Today is the 1st day of the rest of your life, enjoy it." My wife's mum and dad at 58 and 72.2 of my uncles.and so many...A special thought for my cousine Nathalie fighting it at the moment, on her way to win her battle.

Jodi Brenner
My Dad died of Pancreatic and Liver cancer 5 months after he was diagnosed. It has been almost 14 years and it hurts now just as much as it did back then! His brother passed away almost 4 years ago from the same thing... My Dad's name is Joseph Lee Brenner.

Alison Gehringer
My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer 3 years ago. She had a double masectomy almost immediately. Right now she's cancer free but it haunts her. Her mother and sister died from cancer. So did her brother. Now her other sister has it. Seriously??

Benita Tahbaz Stokes
I lost my mother on April 18, 2009, three months before I gave birth to my daughter. She was diagnosed in late January and started treatment in February. She was determined to live long enough to see my baby but the cancer was to tough on her. She had emergency surgery in March and just couldn't come back from the surgery. She died in the hospital a month later. I hate cancer and don't want to ever go through that again with anyone. I was lucky that she did get to be with my son for almost three years of his life and she made a lasting impression on him. He talks about her all the time. I just wish my daughter could have also met her. My mothers name is Karin O. Christensen - Thanks! It felt good to write this down. Havent talked much about it.

Sonja Van Holderbeke
My dad died of lung cancer, he was first diagnosed with throat cancer, so they removed his tongue and voice box (it might not be the right word, sorry but i'm Belgium...) he was fine for 15 years till the cancer came back in the form of lung cancer, he died after a very long battle on strong painkillers. His name is Roger Van Holderbeke.

Neil Taylor
I have never suffered personally, but working in Oncology and watching what the families go through deeply affected my attitude towards smoking, smokers. I never pass up an opportunity to chastise a friend or family member for engaging in it. Cigarettes kill 500,000 people a year. Every couple of years we should write our congressmen and senators and ask them to put an end to the Federal Subsidizing of Tobacco farms.

We've All Learned a Lesson Here

2009-11-04T07:35:00.009-05:00

Dr. Thompson is cuffed after the guilty verdict. Photo: LA Times

Reading the verdict yesterday in the LA road rage trial of Dr. Thompson, I found myself getting all teary eyed. Not because I was upset, but because for any cyclist who has been hit by a car, or witnessed a cohort being hit by a car, or who has had close calls with angry drivers, the guilty verdict in this case is a long overdue breath of relief.

Car vs. bike encounters rarely go well for the cyclist. Even when the fault lies with the driver, oftentimes charges are not filed against them and they walk without a real form of punishment. Not so in the case of Dr. Thompson.

Dr. Thompson is a former ER physician who lives on a mountain road popular with cyclists. After numerous altercations with cyclists, one day he’d apparently had enough and took his frustration out on Ron Peterson and Christian Stoehr. While descending the mountain road side by side on July 4th, 2008, Dr. Thompson drove up behind them, honked, pulled up beside them, exchanged words and hand gestures with the cyclists and then sped up, pulled in front of them and slammed on his brakes. Stoehr slammed into the back of the car and flew over it, landing in front of the car in the oncoming lane. Peterson went through the rear window face first, nearly taking his nose off his face.

Velonews.com did a stellar job covering every minute of this trial. I suggest you read some of the details because the Prosecutor, Mary Stone, was phenomenal in her cross examination of Dr. Thompson and in her Closing Statements as is proven by the fact that the Doc was found guilty on all 6 counts against him: 2 counts each of assault with a deadly weapon and reckless driving, along with mayhem and a misdemeanor reckless driving stemming from a separate yet very similar incident on a different day with different cyclists that did not result in bodily injury.

Although I’m glad to see the cyclists get their justice, I feel sad for all involved when the rage between cyclists and motorists reaches this point. All of their lives have been affected tremendously. The doc is facing a maximum of 10 years in prison, which he won’t get, but it’s largely accepted that he will do jail time and lose his medical license.

I try to be a courteous cyclist when out on the road. I am not one of the antagonists. Having said that, though, I’ve still had close calls and seen stupid moves by drivers that send me into a moment of rage; curse words flying along with the middle finger as I watch my life flash before me. But, right here, right now, I’m gonna make a promise to my fellow cyclists and motorists – I’m going to do my best to make sure I’m sharing the road to the best of my ability both when I’m on my bike and in my car. I will try very hard to keep my rage in check because, really, what gets solved a “Fuck You” and the finger? Nothing. It just increases the rage. Just look at this case. Could these incidents have been avoided if there had been more understanding on both parts? Probably.

There’s no reason to be the asshole whether you’re the asshole on the bike or the asshole in the car.

Here's the List. Don't Screw Up.

2009-10-22T08:52:00.004-04:00

Doping in sport is pretty cut and dry, right? I mean, they either did it or didn't. WADA (World Anti-Doping Association) has released the 2010 Banned Substance list. Can you keep up? Here it is:

PROHIBITED SUBSTANCES
S1. ANABOLIC AGENTS
Anabolic agents are prohibited.
1. Anabolic Androgenic Steroids (AAS)
a. Exogenous* AAS, including:
1-androstendiol (5α-androst-1-ene-3β,17β-diol ); 1-androstendione (5α-
androst-1-ene-3,17-dione); bolandiol (19-norandrostenediol); bolasterone;
boldenone; boldione (androsta-1,4-diene-3,17-dione); calusterone;
clostebol; danazol (17α-ethynyl-17β-hydroxyandrost-4-eno[2,3-d]isoxazole);
dehydrochlormethyltestosterone (4-chloro-17β-hydroxy-17α-methylandrosta-
1,4-dien-3-one); desoxymethyltestosterone (17α-methyl-5α-androst-2-en-
17β-ol); drostanolone; ethylestrenol (19-nor-17α-pregn-4-en-17-ol);
fluoxymesterone; formebolone; furazabol (17β-hydroxy-17α-methyl-5α-
androstano[2,3-c]-furazan); gestrinone; 4-hydroxytestosterone (4,17β-
dihydroxyandrost-4-en-3-one); mestanolone; mesterolone; metenolone;
methandienone (17β-hydroxy-17α-methylandrosta-1,4-dien-3-one);
methandriol; methasterone (2α, 17α-dimethyl-5α-androstane-3-one-17β-ol);
methyldienolone (17β-hydroxy-17α-methylestra-4,9-dien-3-one); methyl-1-
testosterone (17β-hydroxy-17α-methyl-5α-androst-1-en-3-one);
methylnortestosterone (17β-hydroxy-17α-methylestr-4-en-3-one);
methyltestosterone; metribolone (methyltrienolone, 17β-hydroxy-17α-
methylestra-4,9,11-trien-3-one); mibolerone; nandrolone; 19-
norandrostenedione (estr-4-ene-3,17-dione); norboletone; norclostebol;
norethandrolone; oxabolone; oxandrolone; oxymesterone; oxymetholone;
prostanozol (17β-hydroxy-5α-androstano[3,2-c] pyrazole); quinbolone;

3 stanozolol; stenbolone; 1-testosterone (17β-hydroxy-5α-androst-1-en-3-
one); tetrahydrogestrinone (18a-homo-pregna-4,9,11-trien-17β-ol-3-one);
trenbolone and other substances with a similar chemical structure or similar
biological effect(s).
b. Endogenous** AAS when administered exogenously:
androstenediol (androst-5-ene-3β,17β-diol); androstenedione (androst-4-ene-
3,17-dione); dihydrotestosterone (17β-hydroxy-5α-androstan-3-one) ;
prasterone (dehydroepiandrosterone, DHEA); testosterone
and the following metabolites and isomers:
5α-androstane-3α,17α-diol; 5α-androstane-3α,17β-diol; 5α-androstane-
3β,17α-diol; 5α-androstane-3β,17β-diol; androst-4-ene-3α,17α-diol;
androst-4-ene-3α,17β-diol; androst-4-ene-3β,17α-diol; androst-5-ene-
3α,17α-diol; androst-5-ene-3α,17β-diol; androst-5-ene-3β,17α-diol;
4-androstenediol (androst-4-ene-3β,17β-diol); 5-androstenedione (androst-
5-ene-3,17-dione); epi-dihydrotestosterone; epitestosterone; 3α-hydroxy-
5α-androstan-17-one; 3β-hydroxy-5α-androstan-17-one; 19-
norandrosterone; 19-noretiocholanolone.
2. Other Anabolic Agents, including but not limited to:
Clenbuterol, selective androgen receptor modulators (SARMs), tibolone,
zeranol, zilpaterol.
For purposes of this section:
* “exogenous” refers to a substance which is not ordinarily capable of being
produced by the body naturally.
** “endogenous” refers to a substance which is capable of being produced by the
body naturally.
S2. PEPTIDE HORMONES, GROWTH FACTORS AND RELATED
SUBSTANCES
The following substances and their releasing factors are prohibited:
1. Erythropoiesis-Stimulating Agents [e.g. erythropoietin (EPO),
darbepoetin (dEPO), methoxy polyethylene glycol-epoetin beta
(CERA), hematide];
2. Chorionic Gonadotrophin (CG) and Luteinizing Hormone (LH) in
males;
3. Insulins;
4. Corticotrophins;
The Prohibited List 2010
19 September 2009
4
5. Growth Hormone (GH), Insulin-like Growth Factor-1 (IGF-1),
Mechano Growth Factors (MGFs), Platelet-Derived Growth Factor
(PDGF), Fibroblast Growth Factors (FGFs), Vascular-Endothelial
Growth Factor (VEGF) and Hepatocyte Growth Factor (HGF) as well
as any other growth factor affecting muscle, tendon or ligament protein
synthesis/degradation, vascularisation, energy utilization, regenerative
capacity or fibre type switching;
6. Platelet-derived preparations (e.g. Platelet Rich Plasma, “blood
spinning”) administered by intramuscular route. Other routes of
administration require a declaration of Use in accordance with the
International Standard for Therapeutic Use Exemptions.
and other substances with similar chemical structure or similar biological
effect(s).
S3. BETA-2 AGONISTS
All beta-2 agonists (including both optical isomers where relevant) are prohibited
except salbutamol (maximum 1600 micrograms over 24 hours) and salmeterol by
inhalation which require a declaration of Use in accordance with the International
Standard for Therapeutic Use Exemptions.
The presence of salbutamol in urine in excess of 1000 ng/mL is presumed not to
be an intended therapeutic use of the substance and will be considered as an
Adverse Analytical Finding unless the Athlete proves, through a controlled
pharmacokinetic study, that the abnormal result was the consequence of the use
of a therapeutic dose (maximum 1600 micrograms over 24 hours) of inhaled
salbutamol.
S4. HORMONE ANTAGONISTS AND MODULATORS
The following classes are prohibited:
1. Aromatase inhibitors including, but not limited to: aminoglutethimide,
anastrozole, androsta-1,4,6-triene-3,17-dione
(androstatrienedione), 4-androstene-3,6,17 trione (6-oxo),
exemestane, formestane, letrozole, testolactone.
2. Selective estrogen receptor modulators (SERMs) including, but not
limited to: raloxifene, tamoxifen, toremifene.
3. Other anti-estrogenic substances including, but not limited to:
clomiphene, cyclofenil, fulvestrant.
The Prohibited List 2010
19 September 2009
5
4. Agents modifying myostatin function(s) including but not limited to:
myostatin inhibitors.
S5. DIURETICS AND OTHER MASKING AGENTS
Masking agents are prohibited. They include:
Diuretics, probenecid, plasma expanders (e.g. glycerol; intravenous
administration of albumin, dextran, hydroxyethyl starch and mannitol) and
other substances with similar biological effect(s).
Diuretics include:
Acetazolamide, amiloride, bumetanide, canrenone, chlorthalidone,
etacrynic acid, furosemide, indapamide, metolazone, spironolactone,
thiazides (e.g. bendroflumethiazide, chlorothiazide, hydrochlorothiazide),
triamterene, and other substances with a similar chemical structure or similar
biological effect(s) (except drosperinone, pamabrom and topical dorzolamide and
brinzolamide, which are not prohibited).
A Therapeutic Use Exemption for diuretics and masking agents is not valid if an
Athlete’s urine contains such substance(s) in association with threshold or subthreshold levels of an exogenous Prohibited Substance(s).

Well, there you go. Clear as day.

Bike Laws: State Law vs. City Code

2009-10-22T07:37:00.004-04:00

I am completely confused. I live in Charlotte, NC. Like many cyclists everywhere, we constantly have run-ins with angry motorists honking and yelling for us to “get off the road” or “ride single file.” And of course we yell back that we have every right to be there blah, blah. Same ole story. Or is it?

The North Carolina Driver’s Handbook states that, “There is no law that requires bicyclists to ride single file, nor is there a law that gives cyclists the right to ride two or more abreast. “ Firstly, and slightly off subject, could NC have possibly been vaguer in defining the rules of the road? Secondly, from this, one can deduce that we are in fact allowed to take up the entire lane…responsibly. The handbook also says, “In North Carolina, the bicycle has the legal status of a vehicle. This means that bicyclists have full rights and responsibilities on the roadway and are subject to the regulations governing the operation of a motor vehicle.” That one’s pretty clear. From this I know that driving my bike on a sidewalk, for instance, is illegal because driving my car on the sidewalk is illegal. That gives me a pretty good understanding of what I can and can’t do on the road of NC, right? Not really.

Enter the City of Charlotte Bicycle Law Code which at first defines a vehicle as: “Every device…drawn upon a street or highway, except devices moved by human power.” So, a bike is not a vehicle. OK. Wait, what? I should finish the paragraph? Ah, there it is, “…bicycles shall be deemed vehicles and every rider of a bicycle upon a highway shall be subject to the provisions of… the driver of a vehicle except those that by their nature can have no application.” So, a cyclist is considered a vehicle…except when it’s not. That's not confusing at all. So, when it’s on the street, it’s a vehicle, but when it’s on the sidewalk it’s not? And I know I can ride on the sidewalk because the code says it: “It is stressed that bicycles may be operated on sidewalks in the city except where expressly prohibited by posted signs.” That’s not what NC Law says.

I’ll spare you the jargon of the next one and just paraphrase Sec. 15-139 which pertains to traffic. Within Charlotte boundaries, cyclists are required to ride single file which clearly differs from the State Law.

So, now, we all, cyclists and motorists, just need to know exactly which roads fall under NC law and which fall under Charlotte code. Oh, and it’s all probably going to change when you go one town over. No sweat. A typical ride only takes me through about 8 different towns and the city/town limits are clearly marked with brightly colored lines and signs posted with the law clearly stated, so I know exactly which rules to follow. What? You mean there are no markings? No signs? But, I took the test. I passed with a 100%. NC issued me my Driver License. They didn’t happen to mention that the laws have a tendency to change every few miles I drive.

There is too much animosity on the roads. Is it any wonder? The laws contradict themselves and are written so vaguely that there is no clear right and wrong. With more and more people heading out on their bikes (the populartiy of cycling is growing exponentially) maybe it's time to clear up some of these vague laws and come up with just ONE set of rules so there’s no confusion.

2009-10-07T06:37:00.001-04:00

Yes, I realize it's been a while. I've done it on purpose. It's the end of the season and I've taken a little time off the bike and off the blogoshpere. Don't cry, I'll start writing again soon when I grow tired of sitting on the couch, drinking beer and getting fat. 'Til then, cheers!

Randomality

2009-09-11T06:58:00.003-04:00

I’m ticked off at my odometer. Aside from that being a hilariously funny pun, I’m serious. In recent weeks I have found that my odometer is counting 2 less miles per 50 ridden on average compared to my cycling counterparts. What the heck does that mean? It means that I likely rode 313 miles at the 24 Hours of Booty and not 301…and that ticks me off.

OK, let’s talk about the race that was the subject of my last blog entry. Actually, you know what? Let’s not.

Instead let’s talk about someone who actually has some skills at this bike racing thing. Remember my blog about Evelyn Stevens -the woman that went from Investment Banker to stage winner in the Route de France within 15 months of purchasing her first bike? Well, one month later she’s already added to her resume. Evelyn went on to finish second on General Classification in the Route de France. But, she didn’t stop there. The Wall Street Journal did a nice story on her, too. But, that's not the end either.

Evelyn placed 2nd in the National TT Championship. 6th in the National Road Race Championship. Now she has been selected for the USA World Championship Team. YES, a mere 16 months after starting the sport, she will be vying for a World Championship title. That’s insane. But, hold on, I’m not done.

Evelyn recently signed a pro contract with one of the most powerful teams in all of cycling. And I’d like you to notice I did not say “one of the most powerful women’s teams in America.” Nope, she was signed by the same team that houses riders the likes of Mark Cavendish, George Hincapie, Kim Kirchen, Ina Teutenberg, Mara Abbott….the list goes on and on.

Columbia-HTC snatched up the young talent and I, for one, am very excited to watch how her career develops. After all, that was supposed to be me.

Race Upcoming...50 on the Trails

2009-08-26T10:29:00.004-04:00

All year I've been looking forward to the River's Edge Mountain Bike Marathon that's coming up this Saturday. And I guess I still am, but taking a week and a half off the bike right before the race for some well-earned beach vacation time, may have affected me more than I realized it would.

The Crystal Coast in the Southern Outer Banks (SOBX) of North Carolina is a beautiful place. I left the bike at home as a sign to my family that this trip was really all about them. I figured while on vacation, I could run on the beach to aid in keeping my fitness. Well, I got a little too excited and overdid it the first day (I sense a pattern with me - no restraint). The rest of the week was spent limping around with very sore legs and joints - bad move.

Now, back on the bike this week, I feel very weak. Like there's no power left although there's gas in the tank. I took a good spill last night on the trails and had a rather sensitve area come into contact with the stem at a pretty high rate of speed - one of those things where you just grit your teeth and lean against a tree for support until you can breath again. It's a common false assumption that women are less prone to pain in that area than men. Don't argue with me. It's not a debate. Anyway, the bruise is quite impressive this morning.

So, 50 mile bike race in 3 days and I can't even finish one 12 mile lap without crashing...yay, this is gonna be fun.

This Was Supposed to be ME!

2009-08-14T09:22:00.003-04:00

When I decided to take up bike racing, I fancied myself as the racer who would make everyone’s jaw drop to the floor with my mad skillz. I was gonna be so good they were going to call me the “Lance Armstrong of Women’s cycling.” Then I did my first race…and all my aspirations went poof as I swallowed a huge pill called reality on a planet I like to call Earth.

But, it doesn’t mean the scenario couldn’t happen. And, in fact, it IS happening. Evelyn Stevens is an investment banker who played tennis at Dartmouth (quick side note: have you ever noticed how the majority of the cycling world is well educated and holds powerful career positions? Hm…). She was a CAT-4 racer one year ago. And where is she this week? Winning Stage freakin’ 4 of La Route de France 28 minutes ahead of the peloton! That’s where.

Over the course of about 15 months, Evelyn has:

- Bought her first bike (Spring 2008).
- Entered her first race, a training clinic in Central Park (June 2008).
- Won the Green Mountain Stage Race (Vermont), after catching and passing the Pro Women’s field that started 5 minutes ahead of her own field.
- Won the RR and placed 2nd in the Crit at the Valley of the Sun (Arizona).
- Participated in some of the biggest races in the U.S. – Redlands, Nature Valley, Battenkill , and Cascade Classic to name a few.
- As an amateur, riding as a guest on the Lip Smacker Pro Team, won the Fitchburg Longsjo Classic in Massachusetts, an NRC race, ahead of riders like Tina Pic and Jeannie Longo.
- Won her first major European race by taking Stage 4 in La Route de France.

Hold on. Let me pick up my jaw.

MC Spandx - "Performance"

2009-08-13T08:08:00.000-04:00

Crossroads Classic 2009

2009-08-10T07:31:00.002-04:00

I jumped back into criterium racing this weekend. And, you know what? It didn’t suck as bad as I thought it would.

Harrisburg, NC. Crossroads Classic. Women’s 3/4. That’s right, a 3/4 race (I’ve been begging all season)! There were about 20 women entered in the race. I was quite excited to get to the start line. Perhaps a little too excited. Let’s face it, training for 300 miles at 24 Hours of Booty hardly prepares you for the heart rate spikes and recovery that is criterium racing. A tactical racer would have taken that into account before throwing her first attack on only the second lap, which is what I did. From that point, the race was on!

And it never really slowed down. We were strung out single file nearly the whole race. Knowing that I have no sprint right now, attacking was my strategy. I had my teammate, Madonna, with me to take care of the sprint finish so my role was to get in a breakaway. I attacked 3 times in the first half of the race and led some chases as well. Basically, I spent all I had way too quickly. I tried like hell to get away, but couldn’t make it stick. Madonna ended up flatting with 4 laps to go and I dropped off the back with about a lap and a half to go, which was fine with me. Like I said, I wasn’t going to contest the sprint. I should have read the race better and timed my attacks more intelligently. We’ll just call it a learning experience.

Despite finishing low in the standings, I had fun in this race. Instead of hanging on for dear life in the Women’s Open field, I got to employ some tactics (even if I employed them poorly). After the race, some of the guys on my team commented on the speed of the race – they couldn’t believe they were watching a 3/4 race. It didn’t really surprise me to find out we averaged 23mph.

What did surprise me was to find out our 23mph ended up being faster than the Women’s Open race later in the day.

They Say Hate is a Strong Word

2009-08-07T09:03:00.007-04:00

Well, then, consider this: Cancer, I fucking hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I hate what you do to our loved ones and I hate what you do to our families. I hate how you tear our bodies up and I hate the tailspin of pain you inflict.

Elden Nelson, aka Fat Cyclist in the blogosphere, has been documenting his wife’s battle with cancer for some time now. In recent weeks, with Susan under Hospice care, Elden has managed to keep it together and write blog posts regarding his wife that have some of the most inspiring words I’ve ever read.

Susan died the other night. When I read the news I found myself immediately deeply depressed and fighting off an onslaught of emotion. Had I not been at work, I would have let it flow. However, I did take an early lunch.

Isn’t it strange how much differently emotional pain affects us compared to physical pain? I’ve never met Elden or his wife and family. Yet reading his posts and hearing of Susan’s passing allows the pain of my Grandmother’s death to easily resurface. I instantly get taken back to the phone call. I don’t remember why I was answering the phone in the library of our home on Nordic Hill Circle, but that’s where I was. The room had three walls of windows and there was light all around. I picked up the phone, “Hello?”

“I, Jodi, it’s Mom.”

“Hi Mom”
Silence.

“Mom?”
Silence.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

"yes" Mom's voice was abnormally small as if the word didn't want to be spoken.

I remember exactly how I felt at that moment. I let out an uncontrollable cry. Every ounce of air left me. I was completely deflated and couldn’t seem to draw a breath. My stomach was tight with nausea and there was an undeniable crushing feeling of loss in the center of my chest. I seem to experience it all over again when I read stories like Elden's.

On the other hand, barely two weeks ago I was suffering on my bike trying to break myself on a 300 mile bike ride that was causing so much pain I could hardly stand it. I don’t remember that pain anymore. I remember thinking I was in pain and I remember saying I would never do that again. But here I am 2 weeks later, and I’m already considering having another go at it. I can’t force myself to feel that physical pain again, try as I might.

My Grandmother died 21 years ago. 21 years. So, I’ll say it again. Cancer, I fucking hate you. Time may heal all wounds, but watching a loved one suffer and die never leaves you. No amount of ice packs and Tylenol can take care of that kind of pain.

Fight like Susan.

24 Hours of Booty, Part 2; The Final 100

2009-07-26T20:32:00.015-04:00

Jill: “Hey, I was just calling to see how you’re doing.”
Me: “I’m at mile 215.”
Jill: “Oh, you’re doing so good. Is there anything you need from me? What can I do?”
Me: “You can get off my phone because holding it to my ear is killing me.”

(I have apologized to Jill for the above gem of a conversation and my apology was accepted, thank goodness.)

My dandy-ness dwindled quickly. Everything on my body was so sore now that even my breaks weren’t alleviating any of the pain. I could feel the bruising on my sit bones and tail bone. If I removed my gloves, I could see the black and blue on my palms. I’d try to reposition my hands but that made my wrists sorer. Getting up out of the saddle was an excruciating but necessary action as the bones would sear for a few seconds as the blood came back through them. At one of my breaks, I turned right without signaling and got yelled at by a course marshal. “SIGNAL WHEN YOU’RE TURNING,” she said. I didn’t have the energy to explain to her that if I could possibly raise my arm to signal, I most certainly would have, but my shoulders simply were not working. The one saving grace I had and tried to focus on was the chamois cream (although technically it’s udder cream…keep your jokes to yourselves) I used was incredible (thanks for the recommendation, Stacie). Very little chaffing over the 300 miles. Hardly any at all.

Before I go on, let me pick out some more positives of the experience because, let’s face it, you know what’s coming up next – a 100 mile Jodi pity party. This year I was stoked to have 3 friends camping with me in Bootyville; Steve, Jen and Stacie. We had a good time hanging out before the ride and I hope they enjoyed their experience at Booty, even if they went home with sore butts (they were all first timers). Other positives: The volunteers for this event have got to be some of the best humans on Earth. They cheered constantly. I mean CONSTANTLY for the riders on the course. There are 2 in particular, both course marshals, that stand out in my mind and I really wish I knew their names. The first was a woman working the Croyden/Selwyn intersection. She was there through the night cheering each rider as they passed…for about 6 hours. It got to the point where she saw me so many times, she would cheer for me specifically. At least that’s how it felt. She would start yelling as soon as she saw me come around the corner and wouldn’t quit until I was out of sight. I started cheering back at her, too. I kinda felt like we had bonded through the night. The other volunteer was a guy working an intersection on the Hopedale hill. I don’t know where he got his lungs, but he was the loudest human I’ve ever heard…he yelled for hours and hours during the afternoon on Saturday. Again, he saw me so many times at one point he said, “C’mon, keep working your way up this hill. You’ve gotta be near 300, right?” I nodded and from then on each time I passed he called me 300. “Here comes 300! GO! GO! GO!” There’s one other person I want to mention and then I’ll continue the pity party I do so well. There was a spectator at the Start/Finish line who was there from the start until about 4 in the morning. Each time a rider went back out on the course, she would clap and say to us, “Thank you and have a magical ride.”

Because I was relying on adrenaline to carry me through the final 100, I figured that the second 100 would be the mental challenge. No so. The second hundred was just a warm up. The third hundred was the real deal. When my adrenaline failed to show up for the party, I knew I was in trouble. Now my muscles were aching. They were drained. And I still had hours and hours in front of me. I decided to take it in tens. Every 10 miles would be a milestone to shoot for. I hoped this would keep me motivated. It didn’t. At 90, I was thinking, “Crap, you still have 90. But once you hit 80, you’re into training ride distance.” Then, I hit 70. Crap I still have 70. “but you’ll definitely feel better when you hit 60 – that’s a typical ride for you. No sweat.” But my body was shutting down. I could feel it and my stomach was not going to have another Power Bar or Clif Block. It wanted nothing but to go home to the A/C and lay on the living room floor for about a week.

The last break I took was at the 263 mile mark. 37 to go. Four hours left. This was the first time since mile 130, that I had no doubt I was going to finish. I would no longer entertain thoughts of quitting. It was all mind over matter in dealing with the pain and exhaustion of it all at this point. I WILL finish because I don’t ever want to do this again. During that last break I knew I had to eat, but my stomach was tired of the same ole same ole. There happened to be a few white bread turkey and cheese sandwiches left from lunch and I thought, awe what the heck. I’ll try it. My stomach accepted them graciously and I felt the energy from them hit my legs at about 25 to go. I put in a huge effort for some reason. I guess because at the time, 25 didn’t feel like that far, but it was still an hour and 45 minutes of riding, which I hadn’t taken the time to calculate. I went all out for about 10 miles and then bonked again. 15 to go. 15 of the slowest miles of my life. Hopedale hill, which on a normal day I’d go up easily at 15 mph, 19 or 20 if I was trying, was giving me problems at 9 mph. I was actually using my 27 cog in the back to get up Hopedale Drive. The course marshal cheered, “Go 300, Go! Drop it a gear and spin up this thing. You’re gonna make it!” My phone rang. I physically couldn’t answer it.

The last few miles were insanely demoralizing. I thought the Booty Loop was supposed to be 3.2 miles so at 15 to go, I was thinking – 5 laps. I did a lap. 4 laps. I did a lap. 3 to go! I looked at my odometer: 289.8 miles. I still had 10.2 to go. What? By my calculations, I should have under 9 to go. I guess the loop isn’t 3.2 miles. Start again: 4 to go. I did a lap. 3 to go. I did a lap. 2 to go. I look at the odometer. 293.8 miles. Is this a joke? Did time just stop. What the hell? My last time across the start/finish line, I needed about 1 mile and some change to hit 300 which meant I had to go up Hopedale one more freakin’ time. I hit it as hard as my legs would allow. 10.8 mph. That was all I could do.

Odometer reading after the ride.

I hit 300 on the straightaway of Selwyn Avenue just before the light at Queens College. I threw my hands in the air. My shoulders burned with that action. Nobody watching would have any idea what I was doing or what I had put myself through over the prior 24 hours. And it didn’t matter, because, despite the impression you might get from this blog, this wasn’t about me. It wasn’t even solely about raising money for Cancer research. It’s also, for some of us, about finding inspiration from the experiences and hurt of others and using it to physically and mentally push yourself past your breaking point. Because, I can assure you, when you’re at that point, you see things so differently. Unfortunately, most people won’t put themselves there purposely. For most, they don’t see it until its thrust upon them. Like when they lose a loved one to a terminal illness.

For me, when I’m in the place that I was for about 170 miles of my 300, in pain and in tears, then the littlest acts become enormous. When I’m there, getting the nickname 300, having someone take notice of me and cheer for 6 hours, and being granted a magical ride from complete strangers who I will likely never see again, is…is…well, it’s a lot of things but mostly, it’s deeply, deeply moving.

I got off my bike and collapsed into a chair under the Booty tent. A couple of volunteers brought me some bottles of Vitamin Water and asked if I needed anything. I told them I was fine. I sat there and looked toward the Bootyville camp as I realized my phone had rung earlier. It was Steve. My friends had decided to go home (I didn’t blame them, it was hot and they’d done a lot of riding themselves). However, before they left, they took the liberty of breaking down my camp and had loaded it all into my car for me (*insert big sigh and tear of exhaustion*). Sometimes the biggest gifts come from your friends.

Booty 2009 is in the books and as I sit here the day after, most of my aches have already recovered. My legs are cement logs and my shoulders are still killing me. In fact, I went to get the milk out of the fridge this morning and nearly dropped it. “Whoa, that’s heavy,” I said surprised. Jill just laughed. Walking is quite an effort as well.

One last thing. I rode in memory of my Grandmother who died of Cancer when I was 13. “An American Tail” was the last movie I saw with my Grandma before she passed away. I can’t listen to the song “Somewhere Out There” without crying. At some point in the middle of the night, I think she was singing it to me…or maybe it was just playing on my iPod. Either way, it broke me.

24 Hours of Booty, Part 1: Gypsy Road

2009-07-26T19:57:00.012-04:00

Booty Volunteer: “How many are you going for?”
Me: “300.”
Booty Volunteer: “Are you going to make it?”
Me: “No doubt in my mind.”

And I didn’t have any doubts through the first 100 miles. In fact, that first hundred was quite easy. But somewhere around 130, things started going downhill fast and I began to strongly consider abandoning my bid for 300.

Anticipating a huge calorie output during my ride, I spent Friday morning and afternoon fueling myself with as much food and water as my stomach could handle. By 2PM we arrived in Bootyville to set up camp. At 7PM, the ride started and within 5 minutes I saw the saddest thing I would see during the course of the ride. A middle-aged gentleman was riding a tandem bike by himself. A white bike helmet sat lazily on the empty saddle behind him. Attached to the frame of the bike was signage with his wife’s name and the day she died; it was just this past April. I got choked up for a second and began preparing myself for an emotion journey. Late in my ride, I would press on relentlessly by telling myself that no matter how bad I was hurting, it was nothing compared to what many of my cohorts have experienced fighting cancer.

Aside from the first few laps (avg. 8 mph), the first 100 miles went by somewhat quickly, mostly because my friend Stacie was setting a blistering pace – one I knew I could not keep for 300 miles – to help get my speed average back on track after the slow parade-like start. I had to force myself to slow down. After our first break, a couple hours in, I knew that my very carefully laid out plan was going to have to change. I would have to stop more often than I thought. And each time I stopped, it took about 20 minutes to get back on the bike…I had not planned on it taking that long. Because of the longer breaks, I started falling off the pace I had set out for myself. In fact, the first 100 took about 7 hours (including the breaks); a full hour longer than I anticipated. But, if I stuck to that pace, I could still be done with 3 hours to spare. No sweat. Throughout the night, though, riding by myself, I started to panic a little that I would run out of time. I kept re-calculating my timing in my head to calm myself.

Somewhere around the 130 mile mark, about 3:30AM, my body realized what I was doing to it and it put in a protest the likes of which could be compared to an anti-war rally. The protest wasn’t coming from my legs, though. It was coming from every joint between my shoulders and fingers – my knuckles, wrists, elbows and especially rotator cuffs began aching tremendously from the jostling of the handlebar. Despite my pre-emptive action of loading up on 8 hour Tylenol, I could barely keep my hands on the bars for more then a few seconds at a time. It was also at this point I realized exactly how bad my sit bones and tail bone were aching. I was already to the point where my comfort had gone out the window. I, of course, had expected this, just not quite so early in the ride. I wasn’t even to the halfway point yet. I had my first thoughts of quitting. “You’re the only one who will care if you don’t make 300. No one else cares.” Then I’d retaliate with myself, “The faithful reader of my blog (Hi Mom!) will be disappointed.” And with that, I tried to laugh it off and keep going all the time asking myself, “If I feel this bad right now, how on Earth am I going to survive another 170 miles?”

Another harsh reality hit me as I saw the first rays of dawn. I had stated that by breakfast Saturday, I wanted to be as close to 200 as possible, with 175 more of a reality and 150 as a worst case scenario. Well, breakfast came and I only had 155. I was really thinking I would have more than that. I know what you’re gonna say. “That’s only 20 miles off.” But, my pace was slower than I expected. At the rate I was riding, 20 miles would take an hour and a half and I was already in so much pain that if I hadn’t been so doped up on Tylenol, I’m sure I would have had a headache from clenching my teeth so tightly. I put it out of my head for long enough to have a huge plate of food – scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, cheesy potatoes, a banana, some coffee and a doughnut.

I was halfway through the ride and barely halfway through my goal. I had 12 hours to ride the 145 miles I needed to reach 300. Knowing I would keep slowing down as fatigue overtook me, I became very emotional when I realized there was a good possibility I would run out of time. Tears tried to form. I fought it off. Quitting was certainly on my mind, “Oh, it would feel so good to go to sleep.” I fought it off. “There are people here who have suffered much worse than this.” I pressed on, barely able to sit and barely able to hold the handlebar.

Breakfast must’ve done me good cuz I was able to stamp out 45 miles to reach the 200 mark by 9:30AM. I kept telling myself if I reach 200, I’d finish the last 100 on adrenaline alone, after all, it was in the plan, clearly written and labeled with a cute little bullet point. I knew the second hundred would be hard because most of it was done during the night, riding alone in the dark when the only thing your body wants to do is go to bed, but instead is suffering through an activity in which it clearly doesn’t want to participate. The second hundred is purely mental and when I hit it, I was elated. I rewarded myself with a Coke at the break. After the coke I was feeling all fine and dandy until I got back out on the course with 100 miles yet to ride. I awaited the arrival of my adrenaline.

So, it was 10AM. I had 100 miles and 9 hours in which to do it. I began to feel confident. However, I think I put too much reliance into my adrenal system. As it turns out, adrenaline alone is not enough to get you through 100 miles of pure pain. I figured this out rather quickly at mile 203. There was no adrenaline. My body was simply not going to do this. I had been so convinced that if I hit 200, the rest would be as good as done. Not. So. At. All.

Read Part 2: The Final 100

24 Hours of Booty Prep Time

2009-07-24T11:52:00.005-04:00

Well, I'm in the middle of packing up the car, but I wanted to take a quick second for an update before I go put in 300 miles in the name of cancer survivorship.

Once the ride starts, I can expect to burn about 15,000 calories and lose gallons and gallons of fluids from my body over the following 24 hours based on the goals I've set for myself. As such, I've been eating and drinking non stop since I woke up this morning. I don't want a repeat of a few years ago. That year, I called Jill at 7AM, after riding all night in thunderstorms, drenched, disoriented and completely wiped having nearly collapsed when I got off my bike. I sat at the breakfast table with my head down, unable to eat, while Jill made her way to the Booty Loop, around the traffic, broke down my camp, loaded my shit in the car and then helped me into the passenger seat to take me home. That was my worst year at this event.

I have detailed out a plan for reaching 300 miles. I won't write each detail here, but basically it goes like this - get as close to 200 miles done before the sun comes up and the temps hit 90. To do that, I've allowed myself numerous short breaks throughout the night, with a good long break for breakfast; a breakslow, if you will. I will change clothing often. Eat often. Reapply chamois cream very often. I'm happy with my plan of attack and I'm happy to have several friends going for 300 with me. I'm also happy to have discovered Uncrustables, the world's best cycling food, at the Blood, Sweat and Gears ride. I have packed a box of the peanut butter and honey on wheat in my cooler.

The last 100 will be done on a combination of adrenaline and absolute anger at cancer as I listen to stories of loss and pain and surviving from my fellow riders. I hope to be coherent enough during the event to take a few photos and videos. So, for now, I'll say good bye and good night. I'll see you on the better side of 300.

Boonen?...Boonen?...Boonen?...

2009-07-17T07:37:00.004-04:00

They say you’re in the Tour this year, but I have yet to see you do anything thus far but crash. Perhaps more time training to beat Cavendish and less time suing the Tour Organizers would have served you better?

Your team suggested the Tour de France would be much better with you in the race – that Cav wouldn’t have any competition without you there. But you haven’t added a lick of interest and we’re already half-way through. If I didn’t see you’re name on the start list, I wouldn’t even know you’re there. You’re not being shown on TV. You’re not riding anywhere near the front. You’re team hasn’t even attempted a lead out train for you, much less given any effort to disrupt the Columbia-HTC train. Why are you handing the sprint stages to Cavendish?

You’ve been quoted as saying, “All sprinters are having the same problem and that’s 2 words: Mark Cavendish.” But, you’re not even contending the sprints. Farrar and Hushov are there every time, but the best you can muster is 16th? So, be honest with us. You weren’t actually expecting to get into the Tour were you? So you weren’t training for it, right?

Just tell us that’s the case so we can lower our expectations and quit being disappointed.

Okay, Tom. It's time to pull that thing out of your ass and get to sprinting.

Bruce Rosar: Not an Asshole

2009-07-15T12:20:00.005-04:00

I did not know Bruce Rosar personally, but from what I’ve seen in comments about him, he was highly regarded, well respected and an all around really good guy. He was a leading cycling advocate in the Triangle area of North Carolina who allegedly turned left in front of a car last weekend, got hit and was killed. It is without a doubt a tragic event for all involved. His death has lit a fire under the “Share the Road" debate. And opinions are strong on either side of the argument. I’ll give you one guess as to which side I’m on.

I’ve been reading through the comments on the article related to Bruce’s accident and I have to say that the self-righteousness of it all is startling. “Well, I had a motorist chase me with an ax handle.” “Well, I saw a biker run a stop light.” “Well, just yesterday someone honked at me.” “Well, 2 days ago, I had slow down for a cyclist.” “Well, this just proves bikes should NOT be on the roads.” “This is a public safety issue.” “Well, I pay taxes on these roads…”

SHUT UP! Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Listen to yourselves.

The motorists accuse the cyclists of being the assholes. The cyclists say, no, it’s the motorists who are the assholes. Get off your fucking soap boxes. We’re all assholes. We may not be assholes all the time, but we’ve all had our moments and we’re all assholes (with a rare exception here and there). We would all be better served to check our egos at the door and realize that the people on those bikes and in those cars have moms and dads, sons and daughters, families and friends who love and care for them. And every motor vehicle death, whether it involves a cyclist or not, is tragic.

Admittedly, I will never understand what it is about a cyclist that drives some motorists into a frenzy of hate and anger. Reading through the comments though, two things seem to be the big culprits - cyclists slowing down traffic and cyclists disobeying the rules of the road. Like I said, we’re all assholes. I’ve broken the rules of the road in my car and on my bike and I’m certain you have, too. I mean come on, nobody, and I mean nobody, drives the speed limit except maybe my grandmother. So, since we’re all breaking the laws, let’s just call that argument neutralized.

Cyclists piss you off because they slow you down. You know what slows me down when I’m driving my car? Here’s the short list:

Other cars.
An accident during rush hour (as if the stand still on the Interstate isn’t enough).
Dump trucks on slim country roads.
18-wheelers trying to make their way up a hill.
Pedestrians in crosswalks.
Stop lights.
Drivers who don’t understand how a traffic circle works.
People who drive the speed limit.
People who turn right.
People who turn left.
Squirrels.
Deer (although I hear they're willing to start paying taxes).
Possums.
The occasional skunk (actually, I usually speed up for skunks).
And assholes.

Unfortunately, the roads weren’t built for me alone. Hence the whole “Share the Road” concept. I like to extend the philosophy beyond just cyclists. And it’s my opinion, when you’re granted the privilege of a driver license, you assume the responsibility of respecting all vehicles and pedestrians on those roads. And if you can’t agree to that, well, take the bus…or get a bike.

But, the accusations have got to stop in lieu of more constructive conversations. Conversations like the ones Bruce Rosar used to have. Because Bruce wasn’t an asshole.

1/2 Day Facebook Auction

2009-07-10T11:20:00.006-04:00

Today is the last day for fundraising for the 24 Hours of Booty. I’m very close to my goal so I’m going to try and woo you so I can take your money and donate it to the cancer community. Introducing the “HALF DAY FACEBOOK AUCTION!”

My Father suggested I offer up my sweaty Booty socks. I think it’s a GREAT idea, but this is for charity and I feel I should give a little more. So, up for auction is:

- One pair sweaty Booty Socks
- One BRAND NEW "New Belgium Fat Tire Ale" Cycling Jersey (pictured below)
- One pair BRAND NEW "24 Hours of Booty" cycling socks

Go to my Facebook profile page and put your bid in the comments section of my status update. I’ve made it public for today only, so you don’t have to be my friend to see it: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1437165804&ref=profile

Opening bid is $20. If you’re not in Charlotte, I’ll pay shipping. I’ll close the auction at 8PM tonight!

If you don’t wanna participate in this nonsense, please feel free to visit my personal donation page:
http://hob24.convio.net/site/TR/Bike/General?px=1002716&pg=personal&fr_id=1060

A Slice of Humble Pie with Whipped Cream and a Cherry

2009-07-09T07:18:00.003-04:00

I raced the Charlotte Mountain Bike Series last night. I crashed 4 times. Well, 5 if you include when I fell over before the race by losing my balance while standing still. I couldn’t get my stupid shoe unclipped. I guess technically, I laid the bike out twice, crashed twice, and fell over like a dumbass once.

We haven’t had significant rain in Charlotte in several weeks and the course was showing it. The corners were mostly loose sand so navigating some of the sharper ones was a little tough. I laid out the bike twice in 2 such corners. Maybe those aren’t really regarded as crashes, but both me and my bike were on the ground, so call it what you want. Also, I was warned before the race of a new bridge that had been built that wasn’t quite right yet. I was told to beware of the tree on the inside corner because as you approach it, it looks like you’ll clear it, but at the last moment you realize because of that tree, you can’t lean your bike into the turn. Insert my first crash. On the first lap. I didn’t pre-ride the course, so I wasn’t familiar with this obstacle. I hopped onto the bridge, saw the tree and the off camber slope of the wood planks and thought, “What’s the big deal?” Then my handlebar hit the tree and I endo-ed off the bridge. As I pulled myself back onto the bike, I laughed at myself for not heeding the warning better.

At the time of that crash, there was one girl, Suna, with me in the lead of the race. By the time I got myself situated back on my bike, she had drawn to within 10 seconds of me. And she stayed there the whole race keeping me in a constant state of panic. I don’t think I ever got more than a 30 second gap on her, so on the second lap I had to play it smart. I had to go fast enough to keep the gap, but not push myself so hard that I crashed again. If I crashed, there was a good chance Suna would close the gap and I’d lose the race. So I spent the whole second lap telling myself, “Don’t crash, Winterton, don’t crash.” Side note, when I say my own last name in my head, it comes out as “winnerdin” which is how my brothers football coach used to get his attention back when we were kids, “Hey, Winnerdin! What are you doin’?” Weird that it has stuck with me all this time.

The last and worst crash came just before the finish. I was about 4 minutes away from winning my second mountain bike race of the season when my left wrist, handlebar, and brake/gear lever slammed full on into a rather hefty tree a full speed. There I was, flying over the handlebar…again. Once I finally hit the ground and came to a complete stop, I picked up the bike, keeping an eye behind me. I could hear Suna, but not see her. I jumped on the bike and took off like I stole something. I just had to get into the last singletrack section first. She wouldn’t be able to pass me in there. I sprinted on the short road section. I felt like she was right on my wheel, but a glance back and I didn’t see her as I entered the final section. As I finished the race, I could still hear her bike behind me rattling over the rooty course.

I’m pleased with the race. I had to work for the win. Suna put up a great chase. I could do without the crashing, though. The damage - a nice zinger on my left calf and right shin and small scrapes up and down my arms. More importantly, my bike ended the day with a bent brake lever and busted gear indicator. Oh, well, that’s bike racin’, right?

Tour de France: The Soap Opera

2009-07-07T07:34:00.005-04:00

If you’ve never watched the Tour de France before, you need to watch this year. Only 3 Stages in and this years Tour is already heads and tails better than the previous 3 versions (except perhaps Floyd’s comeback victory in 2006, but that one’s now been erased). By comparison, last year’s Tour was a month long snooze-fest. But, this year, Team Astana is back. Contador is back. Lance is back. And the drama is back.

When Versus coverage of the Tour started at 8:30AM last Saturday with Lance declaring, “Oh, yeah. I’m here to win,” I got chills and realized, man I’ve missed this guy more than I thought. Watching him in the Individual Time Trial, I found myself hoping he would scorch everyone. Those 20 minutes while he was on course had me pacing my living room and shouting at the TV (and I usually save TV shouting for football season). He didn’t scorch everyone. He wasn’t even best on his team. He wasn’t even second or third best on his team. Perhaps he really did come to the Tour to support Contador? Lance as a domestique in Le Tour? That thought makes me nauseous. Then Contador set the best time in the ITT for Astana. I took some Pepto to settle my stomach.

Stage 2 – pretty much a formulaic sprint stage won by Cavendish. It would be more of a surprise if he didn’t win. Then, stage 3 comes. Which, by and large, was expected to be another formulaic sprint stage. And for most of it, it was. When Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin start explaining why French flamingo’s are white and not pink, or why the long horn bulls we’re looking at provide the best beef in the world, you know the stage has gotten to it’s boring point and there will be no action until the last few kilometers of the stage. So, you sit and wait.

And wait I did. I was writing random thoughts for this blog when I heard Phil Liggett’s familiar excitement. “There’s a gap! They’ve got a gap!” What? Who’s got a gap? “The peloton has been caught out. Team Columbia has turned the screw into the cross wind.” I looked up to find the entire Columbia HTC team in an echelon powering them selves into the wind. They were pushing so hard that a time gap opened up to 30 seconds. And, holy shit, Lance is with them…and he has 2 teammates with him! More holy shit – Contador missed the move, as did most of the favorites. What the hell is Columbia doing? There’s 30k to go yet. They must be pissed about something. I did not take my eyes off the screen for the duration of the race. By the end, the break had 41 seconds on the peloton – a significant gap on what was supposed to be a sprint stage. My breathing returned to normal and I basked in the glow of Lance’s unmatched ability to read a race. Have I mentioned I’ve missed this guy?

Whether the “duel” between Lance and Contador is contrived by the media or not, the drama of it all has already made this Tour one of the best in recent times. Today is the Team Time Trial. Astana is the heavy favorite to win. There is a high likelihood that Lance could end the day in yellow. Did he attack Contador yesterday? I personally don’t think so. This wouldn’t be the first time Contador read a race wrong. Lance didn’t make much of it after the race when he said (I’m paraphrasing here) – when the entire Columbia-HTC goes to the front, and you know your about to hit the wind, you have to expect they are up to something and damn, you better be at the front when it happens.

Well, there you go. It’s like Days of Our Lives. Except without Alison Sweeny’s teary eyes, illegitimate children (as far as we know), and the hair is shaved from the men’s legs instead of their chest.

PostSecret Cyclist Hater

2009-07-02T07:13:00.007-04:00

According to the website, PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secret anonymously on one side of a postcard. It was started by Frank Warren as an experiment and has grown into a worldwide phenomenon that has turned Mr. Warren into a best-selling author and a highly sought after speaker. I visit the website every week to see which new secrets have been posted. Today I saw this gem:

I had to snicker a little when I read it because, in my experience, when I ride on Sunday’s it always seems to be the people with a Jesus fish sticker on their car that cause the most problems and this secret just confirmed it for me. My most recent incident was only a couple of Sunday’s ago. I almost ended up in the Catawba River after a pick-up truck with a Jesus fish came WAY too close to me on the Wilkinson Boulevard bridge (despite 2 open lanes of traffic without another soul on the road) and sent me swerving into the barrier. I was able to keep the bike upright, but when I experience an incident like this, I tend to think things like, “How about some good will toward men throughout the year and not just on Christmas, asshole.” Then I wonder if they are on their way to church or on their way home from church. And if they are on their way home, exactly what was said at the church service that has made this person so angry at me that they’d like to make an attempt on my life? Or, if they are not going to church at all today, do they even deserve to display their fish?

I’m glad this person submitted their secret for me to see. It makes me feel better about revealing mine: I’m prejudiced against people who display their faith, but don’t practice their faith – especially in considering that one commandment about not killing others.

For crying out loud, find the source of your anger, deal with it and quit taking it out on cyclists – surely you can see the ridiculousness of yourself when a person on a bicycle sparks enough rage within you that you’re ready to kill or seriously injure them. And if you can’t, you may want to take that Jesus fish off your car – cuz you certainly aren’t Christian.

Blood, Sweat and Gears

2009-06-29T07:52:00.009-04:00

The lo-lite: It took me 30 minutes longer to finish the route this year than it did 3 years ago (the only other time I’ve done this ride). The hi-lite: I totally killed the Snake Mountain climb!

100 miles. 13,000+ feet of climbing. 1,250 riders. This is “Blood, Sweat and Gears,” a benefit for the Watauga County Chapter of the American Red Cross. I was feeling good about this ride. After all, I’ve trained more in the mountains this year than all my previous years combined. Plus, I’ve got a couple 100 mile rides in my legs already this year. I was convinced I could better my previous time of 6 hours and 19 minutes; I even went so far as to think I could possibly break into the 5 hour mark. I was wrong on both counts.

I lined up 30 minutes prior to the start so I was pretty close to the front. Christina and Dirk were ON the start line and there were maybe 100 riders in between us. I was already feeling good. I could just sit in with a large group and let them help me better my time. Unfortunately, the drive train on my bike had other plans.

50 yards down the road, my chain would not stay in a single gear. It just slipped and grinded. Finally the chain fell between the spokes and cassette forcing me to pull over. I watched nearly 1,250 riders pass me as I fought with my chain. Once I got the chain unstuck, I ran through the gears. I’m not exactly sure why or how, but the derailleur limits were off as well as the gear indexing. I did not have a tool to set the limits, nor did I want to take the time in doing so. I resided myself to tightening the derailleur cable to fix the indexing – but would have to pay close attention to which gear I was in or I’d lose my chain again. I only had 100 miles left and almost the entire group had passed me. Great!

I sat in with people where I could but, I estimate I spent at least half of the ride by myself. Still, I thought I’d be strong enough to have a respectable finish. I was feeling good up the first climb, Shull’s Mill, and was finding my climbing rhythm fairly easy. I tried to pace myself knowing what lie ahead, but looking back, I could’ve done better with that. A detour over a gravel road didn’t affect me. I had lots of food and plenty of water. The weather was cooperating, for the most part, and as I hit my one rest stop (at the bottom of Snake Mountain), I was feeling good about myself given my crappy start. A small aside – next time I’ll know to plan my pit stop at the TOP of Snake Mountain so I’m not carrying so much water and food with me on the climb. But, even with 2 full water bottles and a couple of frozen “Smuckers Un-crustable” PB&J’s in my back pocket, I slayed that climb. All the people that had passed me on the lead up to the hill were walking their bikes up the climb. I’d say, including myself, there were about 5 people still on their bikes riding the 20% grade and about 30 off their bike walking along the side of the road. With grades that steep, you just turn your pedals and think of how gnarly the descent is gonna be. And it was. And I slayed that, too, reaching speeds up to 50 mph. I am so impressed with myself, I thought.

And almost as soon as I had the thought, my legs drained. All of a sudden every little incline in the road was a major climb. I looked at my odometer. 65 miles. Sweet, I only had 35 miles of absolute misery to look forward to. I found a small group that was going a good pace and sat in with them for a little while, but I lost them just before we hit the George’s Gap climb. I was toast. The people I had passed on Snake were now exacting their revenge on me. The last 15 miles of the ride were nearly unbearable, but how could I not finish after suffering for so long?

As I hit the last little kicker hill on Mast Gap Road, a lady on the side of the road started yelling, “You can do it! Only 2 more miles and most of it’s downhill!” All I could think was, well the next 50 meters isn’t and I’m dying right now, but thanks.

I’m not sure of my official time yet, but when I crossed the finish line, the clock said 6 hours 51 minutes. Disappointment overcame me as I sat in the shade for a minute with some pizza and a Coke. I was drained. I was dizzy. But, I was still proud for finishing. I got back on the bike and headed back to the car when I heard Christina call my name. Her and Dirk were already in street clothes, sipping beers and eating cookies in the shade of a tree. They both finished over an hour before I did. Ouch.

Back at the cabin, I had a little nap before heading out with Jill, Christina and Dirk to dinner at Black Cat in Boone (delicious, by the way. Highly recommend it). My spirits lifted and with a good meal in my tummy, I allowed myself to start planning for next year.

A Plea to Race Promoters and Organizers

2009-06-24T09:00:00.003-04:00

I have mentioned CAT 3 limbo multiple times on this blog. It’s the “no-man’s-land” that women racers fall into once they leave the ranks of CAT 4 racing and begin lining up in the Pro 1 2 3 field. Some riders make the transition without problems, but I have heard from many women who have found the transition to be somewhat demoralizing.

I’ve thought a lot about why the transition is so hard and what can be done to ease it a bit. Of one thing I am sure – we all want to see more women racing. Leaving race after race in a constant state of frustration doesn’t bring women back to the sport. The way I see it, there are numerous reasons so many women fail as a CAT 3 and one very simple solution to prevent it. Here are just a few reasons why we fail:

1. Racing legs don’t happen over night – it takes years to develop a good base strength and power output.

2. Racing smarts don’t happen overnight – racing is not as easy as it looks on TV. One wrong move can ruin the race, which makes newbies hesitant to try new tactics, which in turn prolongs the learning process.

3. Over training and burn out happen easily when you want to do well – in an effort to keep up with the “big girls” a lot of women increase their training time, get burnt out, quit riding for a few months and then find themselves back at step one.

4. Moving up from a CAT 4 to a CAT 3 is relatively simple - the requirements for the upgrade are minimal and if you race consistently for 1 year, it’s most likely you’ll make the upgrade.

5. Racing is mentally draining – nobody likes to fail at something they work so hard for. You spend a lot of time training only to get dropped in the first few laps of a race. You begin to believe you’ll never be good at this. Why bother?

So basically, women need a more nurturing racing environment in which to grow. Men’s racing has many separate categories to accomplish this. But, there are so few women racing, that breaking up the categories is simply not feasible. I can accept that. So here’s my suggestion – most events already offer a Women’s CAT 4 race and a Women’s Pro 1 2 3 (or OPEN) race. I propose simply turning the CAT 4 races into a CAT 3/4 field while still offering the Pro 1 2 3 (or OPEN) field as well. I have a few reasons why I believe women will succeed in this set up. When you’re not worried about getting your butt kicked by racers much stronger than you, you can:

1. Test your legs on a breakaway to check your fitness against others of your own ability. And when you feel confident about your fitness, give the OPEN field a try to gauge your progress.

2. Try new tactics. The fear of trying any kind of tactic is greatly reduced when in a field of your own ability.

3. Stay mentally positive. Even sporadic success in a 3/4 field will be enough to keep you coming back for more which means more women staying in the sport.

4. CAT 4’s benefit from racing with riders slightly more experienced than themselves.

5. Gain more experience. Because it’s relatively easy to meet the requirements for an upgrade, riders suddenly find themselves among racers who have considerably better skills then they do. Someone who can’t handle their bike or freaks out easily is going to cause problems for the Pro 1 2 3 field. It’s safer to have a separate field to learn those skills.

6. Upgrade your license with confidence knowing you’re not instantly being thrown to the wolves.

7. Create the opportunity for more riders to “double up” on the races, which means more race entry fees paid, which means more money for the event. Every little bit helps.

8. Integrate racing into your life easier. Some of us don’t have 10 or 15 or 18 hours a week to train in order to be competitive with Pros and Cat 1’s once we’ve upgraded. Some women are happy just racing at the competition level of a CAT 4, but are forced into a CAT 3 upgrade if they have a little success. This way, despite an upgrade, they can stay at a level comfortable to them given the amount of training time they can find.

I have been in races where the USA Cycling Official stands at the start line lecturing the Women’s field; criticizing us that more women don’t race. But I have yet to hear of any solutions or see any changes to bring more women in. That burden is dropped on the shoulders of those who do show up to race week after week - us. There are a lot of groups out there promoting women’s cycling and working very hard to grow the sport. We just need the Organizers and Promoters to help out.

I would encourage you to consider this very simple solution in an effort to grow the sport we all love. Thank you.

If I Didn’t See It, It Didn’t Happen

2009-06-22T06:45:00.009-04:00

Saturday morning’s ride ended in a bang. Well, more like a bang, a pop, a crack, a squeal and a thud.

Let me set the scene for you. It’s the end of the ride. We have about 2 miles left. About 20 of us are riding down Park Road Extension behind Carolina Place Mall. There is a BJ’s gas station on our right. There is a beige Lincoln MKZ approaching us in the oncoming lane. It merges into the turn lane to enter the gas station. That’s when I found myself screaming before I even knew why.

“CAAAAAAAARRRRR LEEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT!” The driver had turned into our group.

Bill was first in line. He did some fancy riding swerving and hopping the curb to avoid the car. Shane, the guy behind Bill, had his wheels taken out by the front end of the car. His bike is destroyed, but somehow he came away with barely a scratch. Hal, third in the line, hit the front side panel of the car, endo-ed into the windshield, cracking it, slide across the hood and landed in the middle of the road. I was behind Hal and was the first one to reach him. He lay in fetal position breathing heavy in a state of shock until paramedics arrived.

I’ve witnessed several bike accidents in my years of riding. Generally, what I’ve found happens is half the group of riders surrounds the fallen rider to keep him/ her safe from more traffic while assessing the damage and calling 911. The other half of the group surround the car and driver so he/she doesn’t leave the scene (you’d be surprised how often people just try to take off – I’ve witnessed that, too). But this driver, an 80 year old male, did not try to escape. Instead he got right of his car and informed us that he “didn’t even see us.” Of course that set off the cyclists who start arguing, “How the hell did you not see a group of 20 cyclists?” I mean, at that point, we’re a bigger entity than a Ryder Truck.

Pineville Police were on the scene about a minute and a half after the accident. Paramedics and Pineville Volunteer Fire Department arrived a few minutes later. Hal was coherent as he was put on a stretcher and loaded into ambulance. Officers talked to all of us. Shane reported that the driver was looking over his own shoulder; not even looking in the direction of us.

Although there is animosity between cyclists and motorists, I have to believe that MOST motorist really do not want to hurt other people. The driver was visibly shaken. Literally shaking. I felt bad for him, too. He must have realized his mistake. He stood over Hal with a deep look of concern in his eyes. I don’t even recall him walking over to look at the damage to his car. It was just a bad situation for all involved.

Regardless, the accident was still his fault so there was no doubt in my mind that he would be ticketed. I mean, with all those witnesses, how could he not?

Here’s how. That little statement, “I did not see them.” That’s what the driver told the officer. Apparently, in NC, those 5 words keep you from being cited. It seems like a grave injustice for cyclists and pedestrians alike that there’s not a better law to help protect them from blind motorists.

Hal was released later that day with only scrapes and bruises, which is unfathomable to me given what I had seen. But, still, I'm grateful that my fellow cyclists were able to walk away from this one. Too often, that's not the case.

Lights OUT! Guerilla Radio!

2009-06-19T06:59:00.002-04:00

A debate has been reeling in the cycling world for several years now as to whether or not race radio takes away some of the sporting elements of bicycle racing. With very little or no evidence to show otherwise, the Tour de France organizers have stepped in with what could produce the evidence necessary for the ban.

For those that don’t follow pro cycling races, let me explain. All riders in the races wear earpieces that connect them to their team director who is driving in a car behind the peloton. The Director “directs” the riders on tactics – when to attack, when to sit up, time gaps to breakaway’s, when to start chasing, etc. The Directors know almost down to the second exactly how long it will take to chase down a breakaway. It’s become formulaic and we see it happen in race after race. A breakaway goes clear several kilometers into the race and only to get caught 150 kilometers later when they are within 1km of the finish. On the plus side, though, the Directors can warn the riders of obstacles on the course up ahead.

This year, the Tour de France has proposed banning race radio for 2 stages of the 3 week race. And I’m all for it! Let’s finally see if the riders are just as tactical without being hand fed the information. Let’s race the old fashioned way – on instinct!

At the Tour of California this year, bad weather conditions knocked out race radio communications and it sent the peloton into a frenzy. No one could figure out who should chase the break or when. It was quite comical to see the racers looking at each other like they had no idea where they were. Chris Horner was pleading with the group to start chasing but by the time they finally listened to him, it was too late. The break stayed away and it nearly caused disaster for the race leader. THAT’S the kind of drama that makes people watch a sport.

Why should I bother sitting through 3 hours of race coverage when I can write the script for the first 2 hours and 55 minutes?

A Hero Ain't Nothin' but a...Drug Trafficker?

2009-06-18T06:42:00.005-04:00

Missy “The Missile” Giove hasn’t made headlines in the cycling world since the mid and late 90’s when she was dominating the World downhill mountain bike scene. As a young cyclist just getting into mountain biking back then, I identified with her and she quickly became a hero of mine. She remains so to this day.

So imagine my excitement when my ex- Sister in Law called me from Suffolk, Va., to inform me that Missy Giove came to speak in my niece’s Women’s History class and that she lived in town. Next thing I know, I’m invited to a cookout that Missy Giove is invited to as well. I am beside myself with excitement. That BBQ is to take place in a couple of weeks.

Missy, having been retired from cycling for several years now, has drifted into anonymity with regards to cycling news… until this morning. I start every day with my daily check of cycling news websites. I opened Velonews.com this morning and the word “Giove” instantly caught my eye on the homepage. But, it wasn’t good. She had been arrested with 2 others in New York transporting 400 pounds of marijuana. Maximum penalty: 40 years. Minimum: 10.

I’m so pissed. Does this mean she can’t make it to the BBQ?

One more thing, quickly. Apparently one of the DEA agents was testing lines for Law and Order when he allegedly, knowing her Championship background, felt the need to insert himself in a move of classlessness by stating, “drug trafficking can lead you downhill fast.”

*Cue theme music …roll the credits…and, fade to black*

A Cyclists Nem"R-SYS"

2009-06-11T08:51:00.003-04:00

According to the manufacturer of this wheel, its shattered appearance is a result of rider error.

The rider, Ben Delaney, who happens to be a journalist for VeloNews, wrote about the failure of his $1400 Mavic R-SYS wheelset and the article has gained a lot of exposure on FaceBook and in the blogosphere among other places.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the whole ordeal to me was Mavic’s conclusion that the shattering was a result of rider error. Rider error? He was turning left. Are these wheels only made to go straight? It had nothing to do with the fact that these wheels use hollow carbon spokes that employ “wagon wheel” style lacing? And Ben’s wheel was a “post recall” version. Why was there a recall on the original? Because they had the tendency to shatter. By all accounts I've read so far, there seems to be a flaw in the design of the wheel.

Ben Delaney states that his confidence in Mavic has not been thwarted, but I cannot say the same; not until they take ownership of their failed technology. A shattering front wheel is downright dangerous for a cyclist and just throwing your hands in the air and blaming the rider is not an acceptable response from Mavic.

Ease Up There, Buck-O

2009-06-10T11:29:00.005-04:00

I was scanning the “Bikes” section on the Charlotte Craig’s List site today, as I normaly do, when I ran across and interesting listing. Here is the content of that listing, word for word, exactly how it appears on Craig’s List:

“re: WTB TREK ad (China)
Reply to: see below Date: 2009-06-10, 7:32AM EDT

Hate to break the news to you. But...... All low end Treks (basically anything below $2K) are made in the same factory as Specialized & Giant in China or Taiwan.

Heck.... I wouldnt be surprized if you added Huffy, Schwinn and Murray and other Wallmart bikes to that list. It is obviious that you are attempting to be brand loyal (you should try being bike shop loyal instead). and I can respect that.

But ask yourself a few questions.....

Would you really care about Trek if it werent for Lance? Are you truly a serious enough cyclist to be consious of the subtle differences between these low end frames? Do you really need to pay a premium for the same old stuff?

(Example....my Wife goes to the Farmers Market in January for tomatoes. It is pretty obvious that none of the produce is grown locally , rather they come from the same fields in Mexico, Does she habitually go to the same stand each time and deal with the Venders in broken english even though their Mexican tomatoes are $1.29 /pound when she go five feet away and get them for .99cents? No.

My suggestion is to keep trolling Craigslist like we all do and keep your eye open for a well equipped used buke that fits you and forget this whole Trek thing.

Or..... you can go to Wallmart and pick up a Next Mtb for $69 load it in your car and go to Hobby Lobby. Aisle 12 is the decal aisle. Pick out a set of decal letters that closely match the Trek Logo (oh yeah...dont forget numbers...enough for 3700 or 4500) Go home put the decals on and ride.

VIOLA! A BRAND NEW TREK 4500! Just be sure to re-assemble the bike and make sure all the nuts and bolts are good and tight (Doubt the High school kid in Wallmarts backroom did a very good job)

Good luck on your Quest......Hey Quest?? Thats another one coming off the same assembly line as Trek!”

Whoa! If you’re like me, your first thought was something like, “Holy cow, what did the dude wanting to buy a Trek say to this dude to get him all riled up?” So, I went and looked at the original post. Here it is word for word:

“WTB Trek Mountain Bike - $1 (University)
Reply to: mailto:sale-wkgze-1214328929@craigslist.org?subject=WTB%20Trek%20Mountain%20Bike%20-%20%241%20(University) [Errors when replying to ads?]Date: 2009-06-10, 6:43AM EDT

I am looking for a TREk mountain bike that is in very good condition. I would like a mid-level bike (3700 or 4500) that has been taken care of. Please let me know what you have available and the asking price and also include picures if available. corey_mackinnon@yahoo.com Thanks"

The audacity of some people.

Do You Like Apples?

2009-06-07T19:16:00.004-04:00

I won. How ya like dem apples? And I’m not gonna lie, it feels gooooooood.

I was abnormally nervous this morning prior to the race. I have not raced a mountain bike in about 4 years and was unsure of what to expect. I decided my best race would be a tactical race. I was confident in my fitness so I took the beginning of the race to size up the competition.

I had great help from my teammate, Leah who took off from the start and got into the singletrack first. I was third into the forest, but having my teammate leading took a lot of pressure off me for the first part of the race. I really did need a little time to remember what this kind of racing was like. A couple of riders tried to overtake Leah, but she’s pretty quick up the hills so she was able to regain the front spot rather easily. I sat on her wheel and let her take me through the first part of the course. Her effort whittled down the field to 3 of us.

Now it was time for me to employ some tactics. I didn’t know the strength of the girl with us and so I had to test her. I came around Leah and made a small move on a downhill. I dropped the girl briefly but she fought her way back. Then I tried again on a steep uphill. Same thing, I temporarily dropped her but she fought her way back. I’ve always been a technical rider and so I decided to use that to my advantage.

When we got to the first technical section, I hammered it down the hill. At the bottom I looked behind me. I had opened up a pretty good gap. The problem was that the following section was flat and wide open. I didn’t want her to see me ahead of her cuz that causes a “chasing the rabbit” sequence that usually gives the chasing rider more motivation to ride harder. I attacked as hard as I could on a sprint hoping to get to the next curve before she could see how close she was to me. It mostly worked. I could still hear her in the distance though which kept my stomach uneasy.

The move that put the nail in the coffin for the rider behind me was a very technical, steep, rocky and root climb called the Billy Goat Trail. I knew this was where my big move would come. I killed that climb. I went up it so fast I surprised myself. By the time I hit the top, the girl chasing me was no where to be seen. And I saw no one (save for a bunch of guy racers that I was passing) for the rest of the race. I kept the pace steady, not overexerting myself. I felt no pressure on the second lap and once the win started to become inevitable in my head, I was extra cautious. No need to lose the race at this point because of a stupid crash or something of the like.

As I exited the singletrack into the grassy area that led to the finish, I took several looks behind me…just in case. One last look over my shoulder with the banner in sight and I let the elation overtake me. I threw both hands in the air (not necessarily an easy thing to do while riding in the bumpy grass), patted the logo on my chest to thank my sponsor and enjoyed the moment, as brief as it was.

Leah came across the line to snag 3rd overall and 1st in her age group.

I’ll be honest. I like winning. And I also happen to like apples. Especially when the apples come with a side of a first place Giordana-Clif Bar ass kickin’.

Pahoehoe = Lava, Which Means I’m HOT!

2009-06-04T10:26:00.003-04:00

I haven’t ridden my mountain bike in over a year. I haven’t raced it since God knows when. My mountain bike is 10 years old – it’s practically a classic. The wheels don’t match and the rear derailleur has been replaced. The bar ends are 2 different colors and the chainstay is wrapped in rubber with zip ties holding it on. But there is one thing that makes my bike inherently better yours – glow in the dark decals.

Yes, my mountain bike is mostly unimpressive to look at; no where near the caliber of my road bike, but for some reason, I still really love the thing. Since my foray into road cycling started 4 years ago though, my mountain bike has been sorely neglected. Well, that’s all changing this weekend, people. The silver bullet is back! The ole Kona Pahoehoe is tuned up (kind of) and ready (I guess) for its racing re-debut (God, help me) as we make our grand comeback (what exactly am I thinking?) at this weekend’s Catawba Riverfront Classic (really, what good could possibly come of this?).

Me and my Pahoehoe are gonna make like lava and scorch this race, baby! (My overconfidence is purely tactical, not deserved.)

400 Miles Later...

2009-06-03T08:23:00.004-04:00

Jim O’Brien wanted me to ride 200-300 miles with my new fit and let him know how I feel. Well, Jim is in Pennsylvania right now helping out with the Pro races up there, but if he were around right now I’d let him know that I’ve seen the light.

Never did I think it was possible to do a 100 mile bike ride and feel nothing but a small soreness in my neck (I mean c’mon, it’s 100 miles – you’re gonna hurt a little). The Saturday after my bike fitting, my buds and I attempted our first 100 miler of the season. I was somewhat scared cuz earlier in the week I had felt weird on the bike, but I’m weak when it comes to peer pressure so I went. The first 20 miles or so I didn’t feel so hot and I began to wonder if I was in for a rough day, but shortly after I had that thought, everything fell right into place and even at the end of the ride, I was still feeling very strong. I felt like I could keep going forever, but I was ravenous and so I went with the plan that took me and my buds to Big Daddy's Burger Bar instead.

The following weekend (my birthday weekend) we decided to do 100 again. I was determined to prove to myself that last week’s breakthrough was not a fluke. On this day, though, the temps were 10 degrees warmer. That wouldn’t have been an issue for me normally, but one of my buds had a crash during the ride and I had used my water to cool her down as we waited for her boyfriend to come pick her up. I ended up a bit dehydrated toward the end of the ride. My head was in a fit of dizziness for the last few miles and when I got off the bike I was unsure if I’d be able to get off the floor to get burgers.

Alas, I made it off the floor and felt a lot better with some fluids and air conditioning. Otherwise though, my body felt fine; very limited soreness if any at all in my back, shoulders and neck. As far as the bike fit goes, I think Jim hit it spot on. The prior week was not a fluke.

So in the 2 weeks since the bike fitting I’ve put about 400 miles on the bike and I can’t wait until Jim returns so I can sing his praises directly to him. I can’t say it enough – go get fitted. Right now.

Every Weekend is My Birthday

2009-05-29T07:41:00.006-04:00

What does an avid cyclist do for her birthday weekend? Duh, wear her self out to the point where she can’t walk, of course.

Yay, my birthday weekend has finally arrived. What big plans might be on tap for this grand celebration? Dinner at The Wine Shop Friday night. 100 mile ride on Saturday. I get to school some co-workers on the mountain bike trails at the US Whitewater Center on Sunday morning. Then, I’m breaking out the BBQ /smoker and making a feast Sunday afternoon.

So really, I guess it’s not that much different from any other weekend. EVERY weekend is my birthday!

Hello, Glutes. It's Been a While.

2009-05-22T08:57:00.002-04:00

So my position on my bike has changed. So what, right? It shouldn’t be that hard to get used to. After all, I’m still pedaling with my legs. It’s not like I’m using my arms. So why do my legs hurt so bad?

Two days ago was my first ride in the new position. It was weird. I was fighting myself. My body was shifting the whole time trying to force itself into the old position. I got worn out quick…although that could have been a result of riding with Christina. Our rides normally go something like this: we start slow, catch up on gossip and life happenings, then I hang on for dear life. She pulls me over the roads of North Carolina and I do what I can not to lose her wheel. Honestly I’m not sure what she gets out of riding with me, but she keeps inviting me along so I’ll keep going.

Anyway, the next morning my legs felt like lead. Clearly, the new position has engaged some muscles I was not using before. Namely, my upper glutes, and the upper outside quads. I’m sure there are clinical names for these muscles, but for now that’s what I’m calling them. I’m also calling them very sore. So sore that 20 minutes into my interval session yesterday, I had to get off the bike. I could not pedal anymore.

I expected to feel a few tweaks in my muscles, but this is way more than I had imagined. I’m not worried about it though. My pedal stroke feels incredible. Making circles is easier than it’s ever been. I love that. My neck was a little sore, but my shoulders were not, so that’s a step in the right direction as well.

I still have a long way to go before completing my 200 – 300 miles to get used to the new position. This is just a very early assessment. Tomorrow, I’m looking at putting a big dent in those miles. Somehow, I’ve been talked into a 100 mile ride. “Somehow.”

Like A Glove

2009-05-20T07:38:00.003-04:00

There’s been a lot of buzz lately about professional bike fittings – people paying lots of money to have someone tweak the position of their saddle or stem in an effort to maximize their power output and comfort. I was immediately skeptical. I’m pretty proficient with a hex wrench. Why can’t I just tweak it myself?

Then I happened upon this article on velonews.com. I thought I knew a good bit about bike fit until I read about Tom LeCarner’s fit session at Boulder Center for Sports Medicine. And that got me thinking - is it possible to ride a bike for several hours completely pain free? I mean, after all, it IS a bike. Not a Simmons BeautyRest. Your shoulders should hurt; your hands and feet should go numb; you should expect a lot of chafing and your butt should be sore. Right?

Apparently not. So, I decided to give it a try for myself. I asked around and found the best guy in the Charlotte area to fit me is Jim O’Brien at The Right Gear in Kannapolis. I made the appointment.

It’s hard to explain exactly what went on. He took about a million measurements across my body and asked lots of questions about my concerns. What were my concerns? Mostly, the large knots and pain in my right shoulder blade, my numb feet and the hunch in my back when I ride.

We started with new cleats (the old ones were completely worn out – one of them broken). He repositioned the cleat on my shoe so that the pedal spindle hit just behind the ball of my foot. Then I hopped on my bike and started pedaling. He watched me spin for a good 2 minutes before saying anything. Then he began asking me to assign a number to the amount of pressure I was feeling at certain areas – like my sit bones and soft tissue on the saddle. With the first adjustment, I felt a huge difference. He continued making adjustments to the saddle until I felt very little pressure on my soft tissue while in the drops. Next, we addressed the shoulders and neck.

The cockpit of the bike is where the major changes happened. I figured at the very least, I would have to buy a new stem, but Jim made it work with my current set up, which was nice, because honestly, I would have bought anything he suggested. He could have taken advantage of that, for sure, but not once did I feel like that was his intention. He took a bunch more measurements and by the time he was done he had lowered my stem by about 2 inches, but flipped it over to change the rise which brought the bars a little closer. He brought the brake levers higher up on the bars, the right one even higher up than the left. Why? It turns out my right arm is about a full centimeter shorter than my left, which means my right arm is constantly having to overreach most likely accounting for all the pain on my right side. Remarkable that I’ve been riding all this time and never knew.

I don’t really experience pain in my lower back, but I’ve noticed that I ride with a huge hunch in my back where most of my cohorts seem to have flat backs. I asked Jim about this and he mostly told me not to worry about it; that it’s likely I have poor flexibility in my hamstrings and pelvis. Increasing that flexibility will help a bit, but that I basically shouldn’t fight how God made me…unless there’s pain. But since there’s not, he told me to take a second look at Chris Horner’s position on the bike. He’s known for his curved back. That made me feel better and I will no longer fight my hunch, I will embrace it.

So, just sitting on my bike I feel better. Now I need to get out and ride a few hundred miles to see if it worked. I will report back to Jim after that time on how I feel and I will update this blog as well. But, as of right now, I’m recommending a professional bike fitting to everyone who hasn’t had it done.

How Do You Define Scary?

2009-05-19T06:14:00.002-04:00

As someone who rides a bike, I can tell you that a cyclist’s biggest fear when you’re going downhill is that you’ll come around a corner, swing wide, hit a guardrail and go over a cliff.

Knowing that, is anyone else floored by the news of a Spanish rider in the Giro d’Italia crashing on the descent of the Culmine di San Pietro pass, going over the guardrail and flying down a 150 ft. ravine? Look at this ravine. You can’t see Pedro Horrillo, but he’s at the bottom of it.

No one could find him at first. They found his broken bike, but for 10 minutes or so there was no sign of Pedro. Once they spotted him, it took another 20 minutes for medics to reach him. This is the definition of scary for me.

How does someone survive that kind of fall at that speed? Apparently, you survive it with a broken femur, a crushed knee, a broken neck and a collapsed lung. But, no brain damage. Seriously. He crushed his whole body, but managed to protect one of the most sensitive human organs. Um, I want that kind of helmet. And not just for riding. I’ll wear it in my car. I’ll wear it to work. I’ll wear it to mow my yard. You know what? I’m just never gonna take it off.

Pedro Horrillo is living every cyclist’s worst nightmare. For a seemingly benign sport, bicycle racing sure is dangerous.

Giro d’whaddayacallit?

2009-05-13T10:33:00.002-04:00

When I’m not on my bike, I’m a Broadcast Engineer… which means I do a lot of stuff pertaining to all aspects of television. When I heard news of Universal Sports providing live coverage of the Giro d’Italia for the first time ever in North America, I was giddy like a child hearing the bells of the ice cream truck. The coverage is not available in Charlotte, though. Not on Time Warner. Not on Dish. Not on DirecTV. Not a problem, I’m a Broadcast Engineer.

Theoretically, since I work for an NBC affiliate and Universal Sports is an NBC company, all I should have to do is call up my good buddies at Skypath and get the downlink frequency for the coverage. I’ll then be free to watch the race at work (while working, of course). Theoretically.

Skypath is basically a company made up of the guys and gals at 30 Rock that keep track of all of NBC’s (and its companies) satellite feeds. So, presumably, they should know where I can find Universal Sports Giro coverage. Presumably. Here’s more or less how the convo went:

“Skypath, this is Eric.”

“Hi Eric this is Jodi Winterton at WCNC –TV in Charlotte, NC. How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you?”

“Wonderful. Hey listen, I’m looking for the coordinates for Universal Sports Giro d’Italia coverage.”

“The what?”

“The Giro d’Italia.”

Silence.

“It’s a huge bike race in Italy.”

“Never heard of it. I don’t see a downlink for a Giro day…whatever you called it. Hang on let me try BOC…*pause, phone rings*…Hi BOC, this is Eric. I have an affiliate with a question. Go ahead WCNC.”

“I’m trying to find the downlink frequency for Universal Sports coverage of the Giro d’Italia.”

“Is that the swimming thing with Michael Phelps?”

“No, it’s a professional bike race in Italy – the Giro d’Italia.”

“The Giro what?”

“It’s the Tour of Italy – it’s one of the biggest bike races in the world and Universal Sports is covering it – I just need the coordinates for Universal Sports…”

“I don’t see anything for a bike race…just this swimming thing. Hang on let me try the Traffic department. They should know…*pause, phone rings*…Hi Traffic, this is BOC. I have an affiliate with a question. Go ahead WCNC.”

“Universal Sports is covering the Giro d’Italia at 8:45 this morning and for the duration of the race. Can you give me the satellite coordinates, please?”

“The Giro d’what?”

Repeat same conversation 3 more times and I still don’t have the downlink frequency *sigh*.

Dilworth Races

2009-05-06T05:27:00.000-04:00

It’s been a strange racing year. More so than in years past there have been more top quality Pro’s showing up in the Women’s field at the local races. I’m not complaining…much. Cycling is unique in that its pro riders are very accessible. The fact that I can sign up for a local race and end up lining up next to Rebecca Larson, all in all, is pretty darn cool.

The race, however, sucked. It started very fast as these races do, but when the Pro’s show up, the pace stays super high until one of them can breakaway. This usually takes 3 or 4 laps and then the pace slows. Generally if you can just suffer like hell for that long, then you have a decent chance of hanging in with group until the finish. I, however, cannot do that. My body can’t handle that kind of effort right off the bat, even with a good warm up. I ended up in a chase group…going very slow. Frustratingly slow. Perspective: Christina and I averaged a full 1.5 mph faster on our 56 mile ride the morning after the race than my chase group averaged during the race. I was not happy with my Dilworth Race. The event itself was top notch. I only wish my performance could have been more up to par.

F*ck Yeah!

2009-05-04T15:07:00.001-04:00

USA Cycling Rule 1Q5. ABUSE. (b) states: “No rider or licensee may use foul or abusive language or conduct during a race event.”

The winner of the CAT 2/3 race in Spartanburg last Friday night was relegated by Officials after crossing the line and dropping the f-bomb in excitement. I personally thought the uncharacteristic “Fuck Yeah” was wildly funny and well deserved. After all, he had crashed out of the CAT 3/4 race with 5 laps to go, changed out his broken wheel and with a bloody leg turned around and started the 2-3 race. All of us who have ever wrecked before know how a crash can wreak havoc on you mentally (and as we all know even the best cyclists crash, right Mr. Armstrong?). That he got right back in, I thought, was very brave. And then to win it? Sweet.

Unfortunately, one cyclist did not find the “Fuck Yeah” as funny as I did. He apparently complained to the Officials who then disqualified the Winner from the race. The Winner admitted his mistake to the Officials and apologized. I guess the Officials must have believed he was sincere – they took back the DQ and awarded him Second Place. In that, I feel like both parties acted with tremendous class.

When it comes down to it, a rule is a rule and the Dude broke it. This is the first time I’ve seen the “foul language” rule actually enforced, though. I mean, really, who hasn’t cursed during a race? I hear it all the time. But, what happened, happened. His expletive doesn’t take away from the fact that he crushed that race.

Fuck yeah!

What Is 300 Miles?

2009-05-01T13:50:00.009-04:00

300 miles is my goal for the 24 Hours of Booty. I will be on a 3 mile loop the whole time, but if I were released from the circle, where could I go?

From my home in Charlotte I could:

- Go to my parents’ house in Cary and back (288 miles).
- Visit my niece and nephew in Suffolk, Va. (304 miles)
- Visit my buddy in Atlanta and go up to Dahlonega for some wine tasting (294 miles).
- Ride to Charleston for the Sailboat Races and then head to Savannah for a ride on a river boat (314 miles).
- Watch a women’s soccer game at my Alma Mater, UNC-Asheville and return home (262 miles).
- Take a ride on the Chattanooga Choo-Choo (311 miles).
- Kayak the Gauley and New Rivers in Charleston, WV (294 miles).
- See the beautiful Luray Caverns in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia (317 miles).
- Get a Herring and Roe dinner ($7) on the Roanoke River at the Cypress Grill in Jamesville (280).

300 miles is also:

- 482.7 kilometers
- Approximately half of the Pacific Coast Highway (325 miles).
- The first 4 Stages of this year’s Tour de France (268 miles).
- The length of the Florida Keys…3 times (299 miles).
- The shoreline of Puerto Rico (311 miles).
- The height of the Space Shuttle when it’s orbiting Earth (~300 miles).
- The range of a Tesla Model S on one $4 charge (and 0-60 in 5.9, not bad).
- The length of Lake Michigan (307 miles).
- The distance ran by Pam Reed in 80 hours in 2005.

Or I could just ride 100 laps of the Booty Loop to raise money for cancer research and survivorship. You can help. Donate here.

Charleston Races 2009

2009-04-20T12:21:00.009-04:00

My team has quite a history with the Charleston races. We have a lot of wins here. We are also the reigning winners 4 years over of the famed Alpaca prime. So, we look forward to this race every year. For me, it’s my favorite race on the calendar cuz it’s a weekend away in Charleston…well, technically we stayed on Isle of Palms, but you get the picture.

Last year, we had a host house for the Ion Village race. The house was 1 block off the race course and the Hanson’s provided lots of food and drink throughout the day for us. They hosted us again this year and they did not disappoint; they even had beer on ice for after the races. I sense a long lasting relationship developing.

One big downer this year: no Alpaca Prime. The Alpaca industry must have been hit hard by the current economic conditions.

This year’s Women’s Open race brought the toughest field I’ve ever seen at this race. With Pro’s like Rebecca Larson (Jittery Joes), Erica Allar (Colavita) and Laura Bowles (Vanderkitten) on the start line, the race was sure to get lit up quick.

And it did. In fact, I got caught not paying attention and found myself behind a group that couldn’t keep up through the turns. As soon as I saw the gap, I fought to bridge up to the main group but couldn’t quite get there into the wind on my own…I got close…so close I could smell it, but simply couldn’t quite get there. I sat up and waited for the chase group behind me. Unfortunately, of the 8 riders in the group, only about three of us were willing to work on the chase, so it was fruitless. I suppose some of them were thinking that since they had teammates up the road, there was no reason to chase. I didn’t see it that way – half the field was up the road and we had been dropped. To me, this wasn’t a breakaway situation. Plus, I wanted to ride with the Pros just to say I could do it. But, we never bridged the gap. With 2 laps to go I attacked into the wind coming into the cobbled corner. I ended up with a significant gap and stayed there for about ¾ of a lap, but got chased down. Because of that effort, I knew I wouldn’t have a remote chance at a sprint out of this group at the finish.

I finished way down in the standings, but didn’t mind so much cuz I did a lot of work in the chase group and I felt good about my attack – hey, ya gotta test the legs at some point, right?

Sunday was the SC State Crit Championship and other than getting yelled at by the Official at the start line, my team and I had a great race. I alone attacked 4 times and my teammates each had multiple attacks as well, so we were having fun lighting up the race a little. My first attack came on a prime lap. The field was sitting up so I went for it. As I started the attack, I heard the nasty sound of gears slipping and carbon fiber hitting the ground behind me. In the confusion, I got a little gap on the field and coming into the finish for the prime, I looked back to see Erica Allar on the front of the group chasing. As I stood up to sprint for the prime I heard her say, “You got it, you got it” meaning she had no intention of contesting the prime with me. A Beamer had a different plan, though. She came out of the pack and nipped me at the line for the prize. Oh, well…some other time, then.

As we came around to where the wreck happened, the rider who crashed, Jennifer Petosa, was still on the ground knocked out cold. We slowed down to get around her and then the officials neutralized the race. We were neutralized for 3 laps and even came to a complete stop behind the ambulance while they loaded Jennifer and took her to the hospital.

Upon restart, the nervousness within the group was hard to ignore, but after a few laps we worked through it and the attacks started again. With 4 to go, I attacked off again and I have proof:

This time I brought a Beamer with me. We had a decent gap for half a lap before getting chased down. With one lap to go and knowing there was no way I was gonna place in a mass sprint, I attacked for my fourth and final time. I knew I wouldn’t get far and I didn’t. I was chased down, again, by Erica Allar, who then went on to win the sprint. My teammate, Christina took second, so it was a good day for us. I’ve never attacked so much in a race before. It felt really good to be able to do so and made the race a lot more fun for me.

I have since received word that Jennifer is ok – no broken bones or head/neck injuries, just a lot of bruising and a lot of road rash. OUCH! Here’s what we suspect caused the crash: as I started my attack, Jennifer tried to follow me. As she was putting the torque into her pedals to sprint, her chain broke, forcing all her momentum toward the ground. As one rider put it, “I’ve never seen someone hit the ground so quickly. She was upright and then she wasn’t.” OUCH! I wish Jennifer a speedy recovery.

A Letter to USA Cycling

2009-04-20T08:07:00.002-04:00

I am 100% sure I will suffer some kind of repercussion from this official at the next race for this letter I submitted to USA Cycling this morning.

Dear USA Cycling,

I am a grown woman who works hard for every dollar I earn and I expect to be treated respectfully by USA Cycling Officials when I spend that money on entry fees to USA Cycling sanctioned events. It seems silly that I should have to point that out. My fellow racers and I are tired of showing up to races in South Carolina only to be belittled by one official in particular. Normally, I overlook his belittling but on Sunday he crossed the line by singling me out in front of my peers at the start line for his mistake.

The race flyer all of us riders were given had the Women’s Open start time at 2:35. At 2:25, the announcer said there was 10 minutes until the start of the Women’s race. As we stood at the line, we were given the normal “I’m in charge” speech from @@@@@ and as he tried to start the race I asked that he wait for more riders that were coming to the line. He then yelled at me, asking, “Well, what time does your watch say?” I answered, “2:30.” To which he responded, “And what time does the race start?” As I began to say, “2:35” he went off on a rant berating me for speaking out and about getting to the start line on time. At the end of his rant he looked over and asked, “Is it 2:30, yet? Can I start the race?” He then proceeded to start the race…2 minutes early, which is against USA Cycling rules. I’m not sure why the other officials didn’t point that out to him while he was ranting.

No one participating in these races deserves to be treated like this. My teammates and I spent thousands of dollars to be in Charleston for the weekend. Why should we continue to spend that kind of money only to be treated like children by a USA Cycling Official at the events?

Signed,
Jodi Winterton

24 Hours of Booty - Riding For Cancer Research

2009-04-17T06:50:00.003-04:00

Grandma died of Cancer 21 years ago. I was 13. It’s strange you know…the things you remember. I try to remember her as my Jelly Stone Park camping buddy; as my Disney World Escort; as the popcorn sharer while we watched Fivel search for his family.

But there are other memories that come to mind – the grapefruit I cut up so perfectly that she couldn’t eat; driving on the brick road that made her grimace as her stitches pulled at her skin; the red nightgown and the wig; the dreaded phone call.

21 years after the fact and these memories are still able to break me. And I don’t even fight it.

First year: 12 hours, 179 miles. It was eerie in the middle of the night; after the traffic was gone and after a lot of riders had gone to bed. The bugs were loud, but the night was otherwise silent. The street lights were on, but the red lights on the backs of bikes stole the scene. A lot of us rode with memorials of loved ones pinned to our jerseys and in the calmness of the night it was like you could hear those loved ones cheering you on from a far away place that was as close as your handlebar. And every now and then, someone would ride up next to me and ask about the picture of Grandma on my back. We’d share stories back and forth for a lap and then they’d be off. I would not recognize them again in the light of day.

This is 24 Hours of Booty. Second Year: 17 hours, 260 miles. Third year: Marred by intense thunderstorms. Last year: who’s counting?

This year? I don’t know. 300? Think I can do it?

Every donation helps. Every little bit. Donate Here.

PSSST, Hey, FB Friends…We Need To Talk

2009-04-14T07:25:00.004-04:00

Pretend I’m saying this as loud as I can: Quit putting UCI race results in your Status Updates!

Look, I am addicted to Facebook, too. I love keeping up with my friends and seeing what they are up to every single minute of every single day. Without Facebook I would not know that my friends hate Monday’s, but love Friday’s; hate the work week, but love the weekend; are tired of their kids; but adore their kids; are sick, are well, are eating lunch, are eating dinner, are brushing their teeth, are stuck in traffic, are at the dentist, the bank, or OBGYN. Seriously, how did I ever survive not knowing that if Jen was a cereal, she’d be Frosted Flakes?

But, back to the issue at hand . There is a wonderful piece of technology called a “DVR.” Some people even have one called a “Tivo.” The purpose of the device is to record a television show in case you can’t catch it in real time. You can even pause the show to use the restroom or fast forward through the commercials. I dare say, I love my Tivo even more than I love Facebook.

I can’t avoid your status update. I want to know what you’re up to – I don’t want to know the outcome of a race that I haven’t had a chance to watch yet. Each race only comes once a year and when it’s spoiled, it’s spoiled. I waited 12 months for Paris-Roubaix, my favorite race of the season, only to open Facebook on Monday morning after the race and have the result staring me in the eyes as someone’s status update. Ruined.

I should mention that this applies to posting links and Facebook pages and notes, as well.

Let’s try to get this little issue worked out before the Tour de France, okay? Cuz, I can’t watch everything in real time – I have a job. I know I’m not the only one who finds this frustrating. Stop this practice immediately.

I will begin un-friending the culprits effective today. How do you like that? How will you survive not knowing which Grateful Dead song I would be if I were, in fact, a Grateful Dead song? You've been warned.

Giordana - Clif Bar Women’s Team Camp, Brevard, NC

2009-04-13T09:18:00.023-04:00

Day 1 – The Arrival

I was the first one at camp. First and foremost, it was nice to see that Cupid and his friends were still at camp. Cupid is a goat who was only a few weeks old last year during camp. He was born on Valentines Day, hence the name we gave him. My spirits were high as I drove up to the large building that was to be our headquarters for the weekend.

In years past, we’ve stayed in a cabin at the Brevard Girl Scouts Camp. We stayed at the Camp again, but initially, we had a lot more people coming than actually showed up, so we had arranged for “larger” accommodations. As it was described to us, it was to be slightly more rustic than our usual cabin, but with 3 bathrooms and more beds.

I walked in the door to find what I can only describe as an elementary school art room. Long tables with plastic chairs all covered in layers of decade’s old paint; shelves of craft materials – paints, fabric, sparkles, wax; a concrete floor and cartoon murals all over the walls. In the middle of the room was a steel spiral staircase leading up to a loft full of bunk beds with mattresses covered in mold and fungus. There was a bathroom up there with no water coming out of the hot water pipes and a toilet that made you consider “takin’ it outside”(that was bathroom #1…standby for the others). There was a bedroom with a few more beds off the loft. I found myself the cleanest mattress I could find and staked my claim in a bunk in the bedroom. Then, I was off to check out the rest of the diggs.

There was a small kitchen off the art room with a fridge and a stove. Through the door of the art room and down a short hall were the other 2 bathrooms. The Mens Room. And The Womens Room. The womens room served as the locker room to the pool out back. There were 3 showers, none of which had curtains and none of which had hot water. There were also toilet stalls and sinks.

By far the stand out feature was the fireplace. And it wasn’t enough to keep my spirits from falling rapidly, I’ll be honest. I walked around for 3 hours hoping I was in the wrong place, but knowing I wasn’t. It wasn’t until my teammates started arriving that I started feeling better about it. Together, we could commiserate and laugh about it. My spirits lifted again with thoughts of the next days ride.

DAY 2 – Severe Thunderstorms

It rained all morning. No, it poured all morning. So, at lunch, when the sun peeked through for 20 minutes we all ran to get our clothes on and hit the road. We hadn’t even made it out of the camp gate before it started raining again. Within 6 miles it had started pouring. Some of us were seriously questioning what the hell we were doing, but were assured by one of the guys we’d be “fine”. And technically, I guess we were. After all, it’s Monday morning and I’m still alive.

Riding in the rain is one thing. But, when the thunder and lightning start, you’ve made a bad decision. One of my team mates suggested taking shelter but we were told, “It’s not even close to us.”

(FLASH)…one - one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one CRASH! BOOM! BANG! Not even close, eh? But, as I said, technically, we are fine now. Even when it started to hail…yes, m-f-in’ HAIL, we pulled through. We made it up Sassafrass Mountain and then high tailed it home. I think we got in a whopping 15 miles.

Here’s where the fireplace made the whole “cabin” rental worth it. There was plenty of wood and kindling for our use and the wood was tucked nicely under the porch so it stayed dry. We sat in front of a huge fire and, since no one was dead, laughed about our own stupidity in riding through a severe thunderstorm.

Dinner was stellar. Pasta Provisions provided us lasagna complete with all the fixin’s – spring salad, ricotta, croutons, focaccia bread, dressing, calamata olives, and tiramisu. I think we all felt better with a hot meal and a fire going. Also, more of our teammates started arriving and we figured out where to turn on the hot water, so we had a great evening.

Day 3 - The Big One

Originally, we had planned on a 100 miles for our Saturday ride. But, plans are made to be broken. It was a beautiful day. We headed out to climb Rt. 215 from Rosman to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Here's the day in photos:

Getting ready to head out.

The sign at the start of Rt. 215

Suffering on the climb. But, apparently not suffering so much that I can't work the camera.

The sign near the top of Rt. 215. It was super cold up here. Even though you prepare for the cold, by the time you get to the top, you're very sweaty and sweat and cold don't mix. From here, we pushed ourselves hard up the Parkway to 276 where we descended back into Brevard and warmer weather. That's when we decided to bag 100 in favor of slightly more on Sunday. We headed back to the cabin, ending up with about 65 miles.

Quick story about a random dude: Upon approach to the cabin, I noticed a red van, not belonging to any of us, sitting outside of our living quarters. When we got to the cabin, a strange man was walking out. I asked suspiciously if there was something wrong and if I could help him with anything. All he said was he "didn't know nothin' 'bout that" and that he was "workin' out here and had to pee" he asked if I "have a problem with that" and that he "hoped not". Before I could tell him what my problem with it was, he was off in the van. Creepy.

Day 3 concluded with dinner at our usual Mexican place in Brevard, Cielito Linda, where the food is aplenty and the drinks are massive and strong. After dinner we found one store open, Hunter's and Gatherers, and shopped there for a while. The owner suggested we make our way to the gelato place down the street and we did. Half of Kiwi Gelato (owned by a New Zealander) was a chocolatier (Downtown Chocolates) with no less than 15 different flavored truffles, each of which needed to be purchased...by me. Ye-haw.

DAY 4 - Good Bye

That's a good lookin' group right there. The last ride of the weekend ended up being about 55 miles and included a fast downhill on Rt. 176 and then a 7 mile steep climb up Caesar's Head Mountain.

We didn't get in quite as many miles as we'd hoped over the weekend thanks to a little nasty weather, but i think it's safe to say, the team is looking strong and, man, are they fun to hang out with. As usual, I had a hard time saying good-bye, especially to the friends who live in far off places...Missy and Kat. But, there's a lot of racing to be done yet this season and I'm already looking forward to next year's team camp.

Cheers. Ride safe.

I’m Not Breaking Down, I’m Breaking Out

2009-04-06T07:54:00.006-04:00

I didn’t get dropped. I was never in danger of getting dropped. And for the first time in 2 years, I feel like I may be able to overcome this Cat 3 Limbo thing. And I can’t help but wonder…is it the new wheels?

I put a pair of Mavic Ksyrium Elite’s on my bike a few weeks ago…not the lightest wheels, I know, but a full pound lighter than my former set. Has my lack of success in this sport been caused by heavy wheels? For now and for my ego, I’m gonna have to give myself a little credit for my performance before I give myself over to the Mavic Gods.

I mean, I’m not ready to start talking trash to the Pro’s at the start line, yet, but knowing I can keep up is a great mental victory. It means I’m not racing in a constant state of panic. It means my nerves can relax a little on the start line. It means I can now focus my training on more specified skills. Skills like sprinting, for instance.

I’ve spent most of the winter doing a lot of climbing in an effort to get strong and it definitely paid off this weekend in the Patriots Trail Road Race in Rock Hill, SC. In the past, as soon as the road tilts upward, I end up at the back of the pack praying to hang on. Not this weekend. Honestly, I’ve never felt so comfortable on the hills. I was able to sit in easily and able to follow the accelerations as the field spread out and gaps opened. I helped chase breaks and even followed an attack or two, but was not quite comfortable enough to put in any attacks myself. Small steps.

The Rock Hill Old Towne Crit was a huge success for me as well because up until Saturday, I had always been dropped in that race. With my heart rate red lining for the bulk of the race, I wasn’t employing too many strategies; only one – hang on. I can’t begin to explain the elation going through me when I heard race announcer, Chad Andrews, call last lap. My body seemed to relax as I realized I’d reached my goal for the race. My heart rate actually dropped as the panic left my brain. I was so excited, I wanted to attack on the back stretch, but I was blocked in so I stayed put. Again, small steps.

(That's Kat Clark from Kenda Tire on the front. Leigh Hopkins from Vanderkitten is hidden behind her, followed by Deb Sweeney Whitmore from BMW-Bianchi, my teammate, Christina DeKraay and Morgan Patton from Team Type One. More importantly, that's me in the blue helmet toward the back taking a drink of water during the crit. Proof of my allegations in this blog.)

So, instead of breaking down, I appear to be breaking out…which means I get to enjoy bike racing again. Unlike last year, I finished this weekend of racing with a big smile and I soooo can’t wait for Charleston in a couple weeks.

I Can't Quit You!

2009-03-30T08:18:00.002-04:00

I was supposed to race my mountain bike in the Uwharrie’s yesterday. That was until I got a Facebook message from my buddy Steve – “We’re doing the Blowing Rock loop if you want to bag the MTB race.”

Holding a Blowing Rock ride over my head is like tempting me with a box of Cadbury Eggs (one of the best parts of springtime, by the way…ooo, delicious fondant why are you only available for Easter?) – I simply cannot resist and I can’t stop at one. I bagged the race which was made easier when my teammate, Leah called and said she was baggin’ it, too. After four days of rain, neither of us wanted to get our brand new jerseys that muddy.

The predicted high for the mountains: 45 degrees. When we left Charlotte at 8am, it was 60 with a predicted high of 70. How could the mountains a couple short hours up the road be so much colder? A 10 degree difference is normal, but 25? Huh, (shoulder shrug). Maybe the weather people were getting it wrong in the mountains.

Well, they didn’t. The temperature swings during our ride were astronomical compared to normal. 20 degree swings in temp that became a little un-nerving after we had climbed and descended Beech Mountain only to look up at some ominous clouds cresting the peaks. At one point I was so hot I regretted my decision to wear knee warmers and a wind vest (speaking of wind, standby…I’ll get to that). I had my arm warmers pulled down and my jersey zipped open in an effort to cool myself. Fast forward 30 minutes – as the ominous clouds began their ruthless pursuit of us – and I was so cold I was sure I was bordering hypothermia. The only thing to do – push a little harder to try and stay warm.

Pushing harder, though, was complicated by hurricane force wind gusts that smacked you in the face when you came around a corner. Descending Beech Mountain was a little scary. My bike shook back and forth like it was convulsing as the wind hit me and I tried to fight it back. One gust pushed me and my bike violently 5 yards to the right. Had I been huggin’ the side of the road instead of in the center, I’d still be stuck in a tree somewhere on the side of Route 194.

Despite all that, I loved the ride. It’s just too beautiful up there to have a bad day. Had I experienced all this during a ride in Charlotte, I’d be writing an angry blog about a really shitty ride. But there’s something about the level to which you push your body (and bike) through the mountains that is internally satisfying. I simply can’t quit and I can’t say no to riding up there.

Sitting at Canyons Restaurant afterwards with a huge burrito looking out over the Blue Ridge Mountains as the clouds moved in swallowing our view, we got a phone call from a friend – the snow had just started on Beech Mountain. We all collectively sighed with relief that we’d cheated Mother Nature if even just a little bit.

Fitness vs. Race Fitness

2009-03-23T07:25:00.003-04:00

I had a mediocre weekend of racing. I felt strong. But, I raced weak. I felt fit. But, not race fit.

The course for the Uhwarrie Wheelmen Road Race on Saturday had 2 hills – one was short and of medium difficulty, the other short and of high difficulty. On the second lap, I had a mechanical problem and couldn’t shift out of my big ring on the first hill. That sent the field up the road without me, which really ticked me off cuz I was feeling good on the climbs considering it’s not my forte. Once I got my gears figured out, I began my solo chase back up to the group. And this is why I know I have the strength. The group never really got more that about 200 yards at most ahead of me. Riders kept falling off the back; I’d try to get a chase group started, but they couldn’t pull through to help me or hold my wheel. I had to leave them and keep chasing. I actually caught back up a couple times, but the problem with chasing that hard is that once you hit the hills – there’s not much left in the ole tank for climbing. Still, I think I won over the guys in the SAG vehicle, who gave me the “Most Heart” award for the day.

The course for the City Park Criterium on Sunday was a fun one. There’s a fast left turn, a flat straight-away and a hill up to the finish. Again, I was feeling strong – but here’s where I found out I’m not race fit. The race got lit up on the second lap when a former National Champion attacked on the straight away sending the field into a single file line of frenzy. She attacked again on the hill and the field was destroyed. Following that attack sent my heart rate into a realm impossible to reach in training rides. And that, my friends, is “race fitness”. No matter how many mountains you climb; not matter how steep they are, if you don’t get your body used to one violent effort after another, you’ll never be able to hang on. I spent the better part of the Crit in a chase group where I made huge efforts to help keep the field from lapping us. I’m strong enough for that sort of thing. I just need my respiratory system to catch up. There's only one way to do that - race. And that’s where I’m at right now, I think. I hope.

CAT 3 Limbo

2009-03-17T13:02:00.008-04:00

CAT 3: The racing category you become after acquiring 20 points in USA Cycling sanctioned events in any 12 month period.

Limbo: any status where a person is held up and nothing can be done until another action happens.

In women’s cycling, the day you decide to race, you become a CAT 4 racer. That category is reserved for beginners so that you only race against those with your equal experience/ fitness. The better you do, the quicker you move up…to a CAT 3. Or what I have redefined as CAT 3 limbo.

In most women’s races the CAT 3’s race against the CAT 2’s, CAT 1’s and oftentimes, Pros. CAT 3 limbo is that time between exiting your “beginner” status and becoming a viable force in the Pro, 1, 2, 3 peleton. Because unless you are special in this sport (and those people DO exist, I’m just not one of them), then the transition is a little hard to swallow at first.

I became a CAT 3 two and a half years ago - 4 months after my first CAT 4 race. I was a strong CAT 4, but after my upgrade, racing against the 1’s and 2’s in particular was tough. Their tactics, teamwork, strength, bike handling and fitness were not anything I was used to. I got dropped in my first race as a CAT 3. I was demoralized mentally. Someone who has been racing for 4 months certainly cannot be expected to successfully race against those who’ve been at this for years and years…and, holy hell, if a couple of pro riders show up…crap, why waste you’re money with the entry fee, right? And so I spent my first year as a CAT 3 in my proverbial CAT 3 limbo. I didn’t "suck" bad enough to remain a CAT 4, but I wasn’t special enough to do much in the races I entered. My second full year as a CAT 3 was last year (and, as you know, I’m pretending last year didn’t happen).

I’m now in my third year of CAT 3 limbo and damn it I have no intention of going into a fourth.

Howard Gap Road

2009-03-13T07:01:00.016-04:00

Although I suck at it, I love climbing. So, with 80 degree weather the other day, I took off work and headed to Saluda, NC where I found Howard Gap Road. It’s rumored to be an 18% grade at its steepest and that grade lasts about a mile.

The climb starts out benign, but rest assured, when you see a road sign like that, you're in for some fun.

The grade increases, but you're still not at 18%...yet.

The grade begins. I don’t bother with climbing gears – I’m not a wimp – I keep my crit friendly 25 on the back.

At one point, I-26 is just a stones throw away. Not that I would do that.

The view of the valley is worth it.

But, don't look for too long cuz you're still climbing the grade.

That's where you're headed. There's an overlook up there where you can stop...

...and look down on what you just climbed.

After the grade you just climbed, this part is downright easy.

Howard Gap Road, I shall see you again soon.

Winter Training Update

2009-03-09T07:15:00.002-04:00

If you read my blog at all, you’ll already know that my 2008 race season was mostly non-existent. So this year, I’m making a deliberate effort to get back the fitness I had 2 years ago. January went well – I got used to my new training schedule and dropped a few pounds.

We’re into March now. It’s been a little over a month since my last training update. And things are coming along nicely. My fitness level right now is higher than it was for the whole of last year and, having lost 8 pounds (3.64 kilos, for you bike geeks), my weight is lower as well. There’s still a long way to go, though. I’m still 10 pounds (4.55 kilos) off my race weight…and the real racing starts in only 2 weeks. I’m walking that fine line between eating enough good food to keep training and not eating too much of the bad stuff to keep the weight down.

Right now my weekly training hours are hovering around 15 hours. Daylight Saving Time passed this weekend and with later daylight hours, I can spend more hours outside, which tends to be more inspiring than going home to a trainer. Also, I’m paying close attention to what my body tells me. For example, last Friday, I hopped on the trainer and my legs protested completely. Even at a low intensity, my body was not having it. I fought through it for 30 minutes thinking maybe I just needed a warm up, but my body just wasn’t cooperating. It’s a strange feeling when you’re used to no less than 2 hours on the bike and then one day your body can’t even go 30 minutes. In the past, I would have let this upset me. But, this time I decided that overtraining right now would be much more detrimental than just taking the day off the bike and starting anew in the morning. And start anew I did – 3 hour ride. No problem. Back to normal just like that. The next day – 5.5 hours in the mountains. And I felt GREAT!

So, all in all, I’m still on track. If I had started my training in December, I think I’d be feeling more confident about the upcoming races, but I didn’t. I started in January. So, I’ll just do what I can and see what happens. Maybe I’ll surprise myself.

Oh, Sweet Dough, Why Do You Tempt Me?

2009-03-06T07:25:00.005-05:00

One of the most significant structures on the side of town where I work is the Krispy Kreme Doughnut Manufacturing plant. Not a store with a little red light in the window. The PLANT where they fry ‘em, box ‘em, and distribute them to the grocery stores. And the smell settles over this part of town like a sweet fog of sin. The other most significant structure on this side of town: a wastewater treatment plant. So, it’s kind of a toss up what will be wafting through the air when I leave work.

Lucky for me, the wastewater treatment plant only reeks when it’s humid out. This time of year in Charlotte, the air is still dry as we begin to emerge from the winter months. So, yesterday when I left work on my bike, I was smelling sin. I found it highly distracting. The pictures of warm, melt-in-your-mouth dough began invading my mind. My stomach growled as I passed right in front of the plant on East Blvd. I turned my head and looked at it longingly. I imagine I felt the same way Charlie did as he stood outside of Willy Wonka’s Factory. I wondered if perhaps they had a river of icing. I pictured myself sitting in a grassy field of green sprinkles snacking on a doughnut hole daffodil or a jelly-filled toad stool.

I was brought back to reality by a city bus accelerating past me only to cut me off and slam on her brakes coming to a complete stop to let some passengers off. I stared at the “Share the Road” sign on the back of the bus and thought, “Yeah, share the road my ass, jerk-off.” I wondered if the bus driver even remembered WHY those signs were put on their vehicles. It was only a few years ago that a bus turned in front of a cyclist and killed him. But, I digress.

The smell of Krispy Kreme had really affected my stomach; as in I couldn’t get my mind off my hunger. No amount of Clif Bar product was gonna satisfy me. I had to get home and eat before I raided the doughnut factory. I cut my ride to 2 hours and headed home for a proper, albeit not sinfully delicious, dinner.

Why Do You Ride?

2009-03-03T10:16:00.002-05:00

In an effort to market their Women’s Specific Design line, Trek Bikes recently held a contest and asked women to write an answer to the question, “Why do you ride?” I didn’t officially enter the contest, but it got me thinking – yes, why DO I ride?

Do I ride to race? I don’t think so…even if I didn’t race, I’d still love riding my bike.

Do I ride for my health? I guess that’s part of it…but, there are dozens of activities I can do for my health. For some reason, I choose biking.

Do I ride for the lovely tan I obtain? Although I’m proud of my cycling tan, the ridiculousness of how it looks when I’m not on the bike is not lost on me.

Do I ride for the strength it instills in me? I guess that’s another part, but I draw my strength from numerous places, not just from riding a bike.

So, then, why do I choose biking above all other activities? I think it comes down to one very simple thing – I like the way it makes me feel.

Even as I sit here typing I can easily find the place in my mind that knows exactly how I feel when I’m riding. The way the wind embraces my legs as they cut through the air with each pedal stroke combines with the burn of lactic acid filled muscles for a truly unique feeling. The stark contrast of pain and pleasure in this form are unattainable anywhere else in this life. I could run to engage my muscles; but I can’t travel fast enough by foot to really experience the wind. I could ride a motorcycle to feel the wind; but I wouldn’t be engaging my muscles enough. Part of what I experience is definitelyadrenaline. But, there's another part that is not so clearly defineable. Whatever it is, my heart rate has increased 30 bpm just writing about it.

If someone asked you right now, “Why do you ride?” What would you say?

Dude, this is the Booty Loop, not the Tour

2009-02-27T08:33:00.005-05:00

On my ride yesterday, I engaged in an exchange with a rider, I’ll call him “Dude,” who did something I find insanely annoying. First though, let me describe the setting and the group in which I was riding.

Yesterday’s lovely weather took me outdoors on my bike for a few hours around town and down to the Booty Loop, a 3 mile loop in Myers Park, near Queens University, that is known for all the cyclists and runners and people jaunting around it. Suffice to say, this is generally not the place you come to do serious race training. The group I was in during the exchange with Dude was obviously recreational riders taking advantage of the nice weather. Most of them probably haven’t been on their bike in weeks…maybe months, judging by the looks of pain on their faces as we hit the hills. I was perfectly happy to spin with these guys, taking in the beautiful weather.

The exchange happened when Dude pulled off the front after his turn to “pull.” And I use that term loosely because his pull was no more than 18 mph – a very relaxed pace. I was 2 riders back from him and I had been keeping about half a bike length between myself and the rider in front of me. Well, Dude didn’t like that very much. As he drifted by me, he motioned with his hand for me to close the gap. I looked over at him. “I’m on it,” I assured him. “Well, I’m glad that you are, that way, I don’t have to be.” WHAAAAATT? Firstly, we’re only going 18 mph…it’s not like we’re in a 25 mph paceline in danger of being dropped off the back. Secondly, it’s the BOOTY LOOP, for crying out loud!

What I wanted to say and what I did say were two different things. Did he really think I couldn’t close the gap at the whopping 18 mph at which we were traveling? Was he serious? After all, I wasn’t the one huffing and puffing. Did he really think that he was going to have to help me? Surely not so I said to him, “Dude, this isn’t exactly a race pace.” And I laughed, thinking maybe he was kidding. “Well, why don’t you have a go?” WHAAAAATT?

He can’t be serious, right? I looked at his face. He was serious; almost angry. He really wanted me to have a go? To attack a group of recreational riders who could barely keep 18 mph? I have been riding long enough to know how arrogant that would be. He realizes we’re on the Booty Loop, right? I looked at him again, this time laughing AT him, not just NEAR him.

The group eventually did break up on account of a couple hills. Dude stayed on my wheel…just stayed there. Never came around for a pull, not that I was putting myself out, but in cycling, that’s the courteous thing to do. I finally got tired of it. After pulling him around for 6 miles, I sat up. When I did, he sprinted past me. I guess he figured that was his time to “have a go” against me. He was determined to make it to the “finish” before me. He kept looking back to see if I was following and every time he did, I took a drink from my bottle and looked off to the side. I didn’t want to ride with such an arrogant tool. I have nothing to prove; especially on the Booty Loop. I laughed again to myself and enjoyed the rest of my ride.

Poor Davie Zee

2009-02-25T08:06:00.002-05:00

David Zabriskie’s Salt Lake City home was burglarized while he was busy placing second in the Amgen Tour of California last week. The Garmin/Slipstream rider lost of lot of irreplaceable items including Olympic and Giro d’Italia memorabilia. What bothers me the most (aside from the thieving humans) is that there’s been no major news coverage of the break in. I mean, for crying out loud, Lance loses ONE bike and it’s in the headlines all over the world. David loses just about everything and the only coverage seems to be on cycling websites. Here’s a list of what was stolen, according to VeloNews:

• Black 2008 Subaru Outback, Utah plate A189NC
• Black 2006 Toyota Scion, Utah plate 094VWM
• Giro D Italia Race Medal (approx. 6" circumference)
• Olympic Seiko watch
• Beijing Olympic ring (silver) with initials "DZ" engraved
• Olympic Time Trial Bike, plus 12 other bikes
• Cervelo (black/red) bike frame - team issued
• Tag Heuer watch
• Bose Speaker/Receiver System
• Sony 52" flat screen TV
• Two Mac Books and one Mac desktop, plus hard drive
• A pair of Space legs, a recovery compression system for legs
• 7 Marvel sideshow statues

The items that CAN be valued reach over $150,000 not including the 2 vehicles. But, let’s face it: the Giro Medal, Olympic TT bike and Olympic ring are not replaceable and no price can be assigned to them. There’s only one way to get those things - work your ass off your whole life and win them for yourself. Or, I guess, you could just steal them.

Anyone with any information is asked to call the Tips for Cash line at (801) 799-INFO (4636). Please reference case #09-32767. You can also email the Salt Lake City Police Department at slcpd@slcgov.com.

My "Slight" Tactical Error

2009-02-23T07:23:00.004-05:00

I may have made a slight tactical error in my race execution on Saturday in Greenville.

OK. Actually, there’s no “may” or “slight” about it. I made a huge tactical error. Several, in fact. My plan was good. Having only decided the night before the race to participate, I set only 2 simple goals for myself. The first – ride near the front. The second - hang on for a pack finish.

Over 50 women started the race – everyone from first timers to pros straight out of the Tour of Cali Crit. The pace was quick from the start and I found myself riding halfway down the pack. I moved up to the front instantly and was amazed at how fast I was able to accomplish that given the amount of riders. So, I rode at the front for a little while, content to let some of the pros set the pace. Yay, I somewhat accomplished one of my goals. Too bad it was only the first lap. There was a long way to go. The attacks started.

Here’s where I made my “slight” mistake. I lost all self control, got a wild hair and decided to follow Ally Stacher on an attack. Of course, as soon as she looked back and saw it was me behind her, she eased up. There is no way Ally would attempt a breakaway with someone as weak as me. That was a tactically good move on her part (that’s why she rides pro and I don’t…among other reasons). As soon as the peleton caught us, there was a counter attack. We chased and caught them. Then another attack – I THINK it was Ally again and a BMW rider - it's all a daze at this point. They got a small gap. My legs felt decent, so I bridged across to them. Again, leaving my race plans on the side of the road. The peleton chased us down easily. I should mention that the wind was insane – 30 miles an hour. I was already red lining, having attempted 2 breakaways in under a minute. I decided to ease back into the group and hide myself from the wind for a while to catch my breath. As I eased back, I notice that the group was half as large as when we started – we had dropped a bunch of riders.

At this point, I made another mistake. I was not paying attention. I was too focused on the wheel in front of me to realize that rider was falling off the back of the pack. I looked up and saw a gap between her and the group. I began to panic. I swung around her and began my pursuit back to the peleton. In that wind, however, it proved to be a battle of pure will. They were only about 10 meters in front of me, but I could not seem to close the gap. After about 10 minutes of fighting, I finally caught back on. But, I was so spent from chasing, that as soon as the next attack went, I couldn’t hold on. My legs blew up. So did the goals I set for myself. What was I thinking trying to play games with the big girl's?

I eased up for about a minute – enough time to let my legs recover a bit – and then decided to finish the last 30 miles as a time trial into the wind. As I did, I was passing other women who had fallen off the group. I suspect I finished somewhere in the middle of all the women who started. I don’t know for sure because, for some reason, Pre-reg.com only posted the top 15 places, instead of complete results. At the end of the race, I was glad to hear the peleton had been completely busted up. There were 2 reasons for this – the pro riders attacked relentlessly and the wind kept people off the back.

So, there you go. First race of 2009 – a bust. Maybe not a complete bust, but not a great start. It can only get better from here, right?

See? That's What I'm Talkin' 'Bout!

2009-02-20T08:14:00.003-05:00

This past weekend I did a mountain ride out of Saluda, NC with a couple of teammates and other riding buddies. I am notoriously bad at climbing – if you’ve read my blog then you know that I constantly gripe about my weight. For a cyclist, I’m a fat chick. This makes climbing an issue for me, although I love doing it. On this trip, though, I felt really good by my own standards. I was still last up the hills, though.

On the way home, my teammate and I were talking about how the ride went. My teammate admitted, “I’m surprised how well I climbed today considering I’ve only been doing intervals 2 days a week and doing a group ride on Saturdays.” I nearly slammed on the brakes and threw her out of the car. I’ve been killing myself riding no less than 5 days a week, mostly 6 days – doing climbing specific intervals, long rides and strength training. And I STILL can’t keep the gap respectable on the climbs. Mentally, that’s hard to take.

At some point I’m going to have to pinpoint a strength that I DO possess in cycling so I can quit focusing on what I CAN’T do. Maybe sprinting…after all, Mark Cavendish is the fastest finisher in the pro peleton, but at the same time, by his own admission, is a horrible climber.

Christina DeKraay, Myself, Stacie Schnitkey

Versus, I Hate You SOOOOO Much Right Now

2009-02-18T08:29:00.004-05:00

Only one TV Network in the US covers Pro cycling races: Versus, formerly known as Outdoor Life Network. To get that network, I’m required by my cable provider to subscribe to the highest tier of service they offer. It’s expensive. It’s ridiculously expensive considering the relatively few hours of racing that gets covered throughout the year. But it’s the only way I get to watch the races I love. So, when those few hours of racing do get coverage – I expect to see every minute. Especially the most important part of the race: the end.

Apparently, Versus does not agree. I am stoked that Versus has decided to cover this years Tour of California live. And, really, why wouldn’t they? All the stars of racing have converged on Cali making this event one of the best fields of pro racing ever assembled on American soil. It’s of Tour de France quality. It’s amazing. So, why then did Versus decide last night in covering Stage 3, to cut out of it’s live coverage with only about 15K to the finish, in favor of National Hockey League coverage?

As a cycling fan and cable subscriber, obviously, I’m pissed off. Really pissed off. But, the fact that I work in TV, and have an idea of how things work, makes me even madder because I personally feel like, executively, it was the wrong decision. Here was Versus’ plan: After 2 hours of live coverage drop out of Stage 3 with 15K left (15k in a cycling race is equivalent to about 10 minutes) and cut to NHL Hockey Match coverage. And not even NHL match coverage…it was the pre-game chit chat, fat head at a desk trying to predict for everyone the outcome of the upcoming match. That same fat head was to apologize to cycling fans and assure them that they would be given race updates in the breaks of hockey coverage. Gee thanks. Yeah, that’s the same as watching it live.

The correct plan would have been this: stick with Stage 3 through the finish; there was only 15k left anyway. Run a crawl stating that NHL coverage would begin upon completion of the Stage. After all, you weren’t really missing anything on the NHL side - guy at desk, National Anthem, and maybe a minute of actual match play. I suspect that a contractual obligation could have been why Versus went to NHL exactly at 7PM. If that be the case, I still fault Versus with agreeing to that contract. How can you follow live coverage of a sporting event with a hard out? Can you imagine that happening with the NFL? You’d get to the 2 minute warning, go to a break and never come back – oh, but you’d get updates on the score in the breaks of Desperate Housewives or 60 Minutes or whatever comes on after football.

I have contacted Versus with my extreme disappointment. If they happen to reply, I will post it here. Feel free to contact them yourself, as well: feedback@versus.com.

Oh, and to the sportscaster I called a fat head, I apologize. That was immature of me.

Yahoo's Cycling "News"

2009-02-13T08:59:00.000-05:00

“Lance Armstrong shelves plan to set up drug testing program.”

That’s the headline on Yahoo News this morning. What a joke. Here’s a short list of recent cycling happenings that are much more newsworthy and significant than Lance and his doping problems.

1) “First Women’s Pro Cycling race held in Middle East” – The Tour of Qatar this year introduced a women’s race which became the first Pro Women’s cycling event ever held in the Middle East. Usually, the only stories we hear coming out of the Middle East involve people blowing themselves up. This would have been a great feel good story to shed a little positive light on an area of the world that is greatly misunderstood. But, not for Yahoo.

2) “Tour of California boasts a Tour de France Quality Field” – Lance Armstrong, Floyd Landis, Carlos Sastre, Fabian Cancellara, Levi Leipheimer, the Schleck Brothers, George Hincapie, Mark Cavendish, Tom Boonen, Tyler Hamilton, Oscar Freire, Ivan Basso…the list goes on. There are multiple current and former National Champions, World Champions, Tour de France Champions, and Giro d’Italia Champions in this years ToC. This is easily one of the best fields ever assembled on American soil. The start list reads like the Tour de France but it’s happening in California. It’s absolutely incredible. But, not to Yahoo.

3) “Lance Armstrong creates U23 team to fight cancer” – If you’re compelled to use a Lance story as the draw for your readership then how about this one instead of the same tired old story over and over: Lance created an U23 team for 2009, the Trek-Livestrong Team, as a part of the Lance Armstrong Foundation’s Global Cancer Initiative. The team is run by the highly successful and now retired pro cyclist Axel Merckx, son of the best cyclist ever, Eddie Merckx. And it features Junior World Time Trial Champion, Taylor Phinney, who is the offspring of a Tour de France stage winner and an Olympic Gold Medalist. That’s some really cool stuff! But, not to Yahoo.

4) “Cyclist Dies in his sleep at Tour of Qatar” – It’s not a happy story, but it’s a significant story when a healthy 22 year old dies in his sleep during a professional bike race. Of course, this will lead to people assuming drug use, but the UCI’s Passport Program and doping controls showed nothing unusual in the rider’s body. The Stage that followed was reduced to 40K and was neutralized out of respect for the fallen rider, Frederiek Nolf, who was in his first year as a professional. The cycling community mourned. But, not Yahoo.

5) “Belgian Marianne Vos takes World’s win; American Katie Compton on the Podium” – anyone who’s tired of the millions of dollars, egos, and all around bullshit of most men’s professional sports, may find a breath of fresh air in following some women’s sports. I’m partial to cycling of course. With the lack of high paychecks and media coverage, you will be watching the best of the best in sports competition being played out by people who really, REALLY love what they do. Marianne Vos won the 2009 World Cyclocross Championship, becoming the only woman ever to win a World title in the Road, Track and Cyclocross disciplines. An amazing feat. But, not to Yahoo.

There you go. 5 stories with significantly more newsworthiness than Lance and doping controls. Doping is not the only story in cycling. Let me say that again. Doping IS NOT the only story in cycling. A lot of wonderful things happen in this sport. Perhaps we can focus on some of those things, Yahoo?

Can I Slap You Now?

2009-02-09T07:02:00.003-05:00

***UPDATE*** 2-11-09. This situation has been amicably resolved. All is right with the world.

I will try to contain myself…I will try not to write something that will upset my own sponsors…I will not use specific names…but I have some beef with another team in the area…a team with some prominent riders.

$20. That’s how much the registration fee was for this weekends Charlotte Sport Cycling Winter Training ride. Team Giordana – Clif Bar provided lots and lots of food for the riders, rest stops, SAG support, and Jeremiah Bishop, US National Short Track & Marathon Mountain Bike Champion.

Apparently, $20 is too much for some people; some people who ride for a prominent team out of Greenville, SC; some people we all race with and ride with. It appears only one rider on that team paid their registration fee. The rest of the team rode circles outside of the park where the ride started and joined the group after the start.

To that team, I say this: We are all a part of the same cycling community. You know who we are and we know who you are. What you did by dodging the $20 registration fee is slap us all in the face. It demonstrated a total lack of class, community and respect. I certainly doubt you would put up with riders participating in your Spring Training Races without paying their entry fee. I, also, certainly doubt that the professional rider whose namesake garners your jersey would put up with those kinds of actions either. As much as he does to promote and support cycling of all levels in his hometown, I can only hope that he would be as appalled at your actions as I am.

If you don’t want to pay $20 to ride, then fine, ride elsewhere that day. But don’t try to sneak in under the radar and hope nobody notices. Where are your morals?

Winter Training 2009

2009-02-05T08:50:00.001-05:00

After a seriously lackluster 2008 racing season in which, instead of reaching my racing weight, I gained 10 pounds instead, I have re-committed myself to my training for 2009. A promotion at work, moving into a new home, and lots and lots of family obligations that I allowed to dictate my life led to limited time in the saddle and poor showings at the few races in which I did participate.

I spent a lot of energy last year bitching that I didn’t have the time I used to have for training. Prior to my promotion, my work schedule was 2:45pm to 11:45pm which left a lot of time in the mornings for training. 3 and 4 hour training rides all winter long made me a better racer in the spring and early summer. Now, with a 6am to 3pm schedule, several things have changed. There are fewer daylight hours for training outside. If I do get out to ride after work, it’s during rush hour, meaning there are a lot of cars on the road and drivers are at their most aggressive – not good news for a cyclist. Lastly, being promoted means more work to do at work and more focus required for doing so – meaning when I get off work, I’m pooped and all I really want to do is sit on the couch with a glass of wine and catch up on my TIVO. But, that was last year.

This year I have come to terms with my availability of training hours. So, instead of sitting around bitching about it and getting fat, I’ve developed a training program to fit my schedule. It requires more time indoors on the trainer during the week, which can be boring as hell, but gets me out on the road with my buddies on the weekends. I’ve purchased numerous Spinervals videos to help with the monotony of the trainer. I’ve also committed myself to being there for my family without completely ignoring my training. For instance, one week into my training, my mother fell and broke her leg requiring me to split time between Charlotte and Raleigh. I have found rides in the Raleigh area and have also brought my trainer to my parent’s house so that I don’t have an excuse not to ride.

The result so far – it hasn’t been perfect. Life still gets in the way of training. It always will. But, I’ve found a way to stick with it; well, through January so far. The pounds aren’t dropping like they did a couple years ago, but they are dropping. 4.5 pounds lost in January. February awaits. As does race season. Who knows, maybe taking it a little slower right now will allow me to race longer in the season without getting burnt out.

At Least I'm a Warm Hypocrit

2009-01-23T07:28:00.001-05:00

I have a strict rule about wearing special jerseys. As in, if you didn’t earn it, don’t wear it. The special jerseys I’m talking about are World Champion Rainbow Jerseys, National Champion Jersey’s, Yellow TdF Leader’s Jerseys and things of the like. It’s a sentiment echoed by most of the cycling community. The athletes that earn those jerseys deserve to be the only ones with the right to wear them. Dropping $80 at the bike store to have your own Rainbow Jersey to wear at your local club ride is simply tacky.

It’s because of my strict rule on special jerseys that I have now found myself having an inner struggle as of late. One of my teammates is a former World Cup Champion. As a former champion, she is allowed to put the rainbow stripes on the sleeves or collar of all the jerseys she competes in if she wishes. Although she doesn’t put them on her jerseys anymore, she still has some clothing with those stripes. So, imagine my surprise the other day when she handed me one of her Team Fuji jerseys with her World Cup Champion stripes. The inner struggle began.

“I can’t wear a jersey with stripes.” I said, jaw on the floor at the generous offering. “Yes, you can. It’s a really warm jersey. You’re gonna love it,” she said. And with that I took the jersey from her.

She wasn’t kidding either. It’s a nice thick long sleeved jersey. I imagine it is nice and warm for these cold winter rides. But, I wouldn’t know. I haven’t worn it yet. I see it hanging in my closet every morning and am dieing to throw it on my back. But, how? How do I wear it without becoming a hypocrit to my own strict rules?

The answer: gaffers tape.

I’ll use gaffers tape to cover the stripes. My fellow riders will undoubtedly know the stripes are under there, but will also know I still hold special jerseys in high regard. Am I still a hypocrit?

It's Not Elitest, It's Just the Basics

2009-01-12T07:47:00.002-05:00

I did 2 big rides over the weekend and put in nearly 200k which is great for some base mile fitness to prepare me for the race season. The big hazard of these kinds of organized rides is that there are riders of all levels. Based on some events I experienced this weekend, some people don’t understand that riding in a pack is not as easy as it looks on TV during the Tour de France…and it’s not just the newbies who are guilty.

1) Do NOT overestimate your fitness and or skill level. You know in your heart you cannot keep up with the CAT 1 men’s racing teams, so do NOT start in the front with them. You’ll only blow up on the first hill and cause problems for the 100’s of riders behind you who CAN keep up.

2) If you hit a hole and lose your water bottle, DO NOT slam on your brakes and come to a complete stop in the middle of the peleton. Ease your way out of the pack and when you are clear of other riders, then and only then are you allowed to turn around and go get your bottle.

3) If you blow a tire, see number 2.

4) If for any reason you have the urge to slam on your brakes, DON’T. Instead, try paying attention.

5) In other words - DO NOT slam on your brakes in a Peleton. The ONLY way you can get away with this is if there are people in front of you already hitting the road. And guess what? They are probably crashing because someone slammed on their brakes (or suddenly swerved, see numbers 7 and 8).

6) Most people know to say “car back” or “car up” to warn other riders of the presence of a vehicle, but, for God’s sake, there’s no reason to scream it with panic in your voice like your being chased by an ax murderer. Riders will read your panic and hit the brakes. For more info on hitting your brakes in a pack of cyclists, please see numbers 2 – 5.

7) If you cannot keep your bike from swerving when you take a hand off the bar or when you turn your head to talk to someone, then DON’T DO IT. Keep both hands on the handle bar and keep your eyes forward. Sudden swerving in a peleton leads to bad things. Practice this skill on your own first – it’s not as easy as it sounds.

8) Along the lines of number 7, your bike should not be swerving to follow your downstroke. Keep your pedaling smooth, your bike straight and your upper body relaxed and still.

9) Pointing at the ground to warn riders behind you of holes or gravel in the road is a good thing. Please keep that in mind when your hands go numb and you’re contantly dropping them to your side to shake them out. Every time you do that, the rider behind you begins bracing for an obstacle. It’s annoying. Stop it.

Riding a bike is not as easy as it looks. Beyond fitness, bike handling skills and common sense are essential. Take some time to practice them…for the sake of the other 500 riders out there.

Same Team Members. New Team Sponsor.

2008-12-31T13:02:00.002-05:00

I'm pleased to say that myself and the rest of my team will be a part of the Giordana - Clif Bar racing team for the 2009 race season. I'm stoked to be racing for a Charlotte based team. More later...for now, Happy New Year!

My (Lance) Cup Runeth Over

2008-11-24T08:50:00.004-05:00

I remember when I loved Lance. When he was someone I looked up to. When he was a superhero on a bike. I remember watching him go for #5 thinking my world would end if he didn’t win. I remember the deep connection I felt to his cancer survivorship having watched my Grandmother perish from the disease when I was 13. I remember the strength I used to feel watching the yellow Livestrong bracelet dance on my wrist before the fad started and after it died down.

As I sit here right now, though, only a few months after the big announcement, my Lance tolerance cup is well over filled and spilling out onto the table and all over the floor. He is no longer the hero with which I once identified.

Who really believes he is coming back solely to further the Livestrong mission into a global initiative? Don’t feel bad if you still do. I bought into it at first, also. But now? No way. In the dozens upon dozens of articles I’ve read over the last 2 and a half months, I have heard very little about cancer. I’ve relived all the old doping allegations. I’ve heard about how stupid the French are. But, nothing so far about cancer. I’ve been reminded about his 7 Tour de France victories (as if I could forget). I’ve heard about old and new disputes with Greg Lemond, another self serving narcissist. No cancer. More doping, more insistance of not doping. We heard a blurb about his charity working together with Simeoni’s charity, but that was after we had to witness the back and forth and back and forth over the 2004 Tour controversy. More doping, no proof of doping, more allegations of doping, the French are stupid. No cancer. Hey look! Lance is in a wind tunnel! More doping, more arrogance. More Astana controversy. No, I swear this is about cancer. Now he's afraid of French fans. AURGH! Enough already!

Enough.

Lance’s hero status for me has gone downhill since his retirement. Not because his incredible sporting accomplishments have diminished in my mind, but because the yellow bracelet is no longer dancing on my wrist. It went in the garbage the day I read that he reportedly allowed his 6 year old daughter to take Ashley Olsen to show and tell at her Texas school. The only thing Lance seems to care about more than his cancer charity is his own face. I have to agree with Mike Celizic of msnbc.com; Lance has become a “drama queen” and a “narcissist.” There’s simply no deep connection to have with either of those.

Mental Block Party

2008-11-10T09:28:00.002-05:00

Now that the stitches are out and the contusions have been reduced to bearable, it’s time to look ahead to my return to racing. Physically, I’ll be ok. In a few weeks I’ll be back to the fitness level I was at the time of the crash. No big deal. I wasn’t all that fit anyway. The bigger barrier to jump over is the mental game my brain will play with me.

That game is this: you go on 1000 rides without mishap. You crash once. That becomes the one and only ride your brain will remember. And it will make unending attempts at convincing your body that you will now crash each and every time you head out on the road (or trail).

Getting over that mental block is serious business. If you can’t move on, you’re likely to start riding and racing with intrepedation, which will, in turn, lead to more crashes. So, it’s time for me to saddle up and hit the gravel road… figuratively, though. Not literally this time.

Crash Into Me

2008-11-03T07:52:00.010-05:00

I’ll get to the point. I crashed at the Hawksnest Cyclocross race. Last lap (although I didn’t know it at the time), final descent, 50 yards from the finish. Lost my wheels in a gravel section and went down on the rocks. 5 sutures in my knee and 7 in my hip and a lot of missing skin and deep bruises on the right side of my body. I was in second to last place at the time of the crash and about to be lapped by the woman who finished second. What a bunch of shit.

It just caps the frustration of the last 18 months. I can’t seem to regain the fitness I had back then – a promotion at work, a new work schedule and more responsibilities have really hampered my training hours and it really shows. But, that doesn’t keep me from expecting more of myself. It only serves as a constant disappointment when I don’t finish well. Some cyclists are perpetually in shape. Even when they are “out of shape” they keep a pretty high level of fitness. My body, I have learned, does not work like that. I lose fitness easily and quickly. I gain weight easily, as well. My BMI, although at a healthy level, is quite high for a cyclist. My frustration goes all the way down to my team kit that doesn’t fit right because I’m 15 pounds too heavy to race right now. Looking like an idiot doesn’t exactly feed into the confidence needed to step to the line of a race you know your going to lose handily. Seriously, I’m the cyclist’s version of Erkle when I come to the line.

The bottom line is this: I have no business racing right now.

The bottom/bottom line is this: I’m gonna do it anyway. And I’m gonna take each ass whoopin like a woman. I’ll slowly learn how to race cyclocross. And I’ll get better. And I’ll be a better racer in the springtime because of it…fingers crossed.

Jodi's Chick n' Cross Recipe for DISASTER

2008-10-22T08:31:00.002-04:00

2 Cups of “Never raced CX”
1 - 8 oz. can of crushed “Didn’t ride my bike the week prior”
3 Tbsp. of “Never ridden this bike” and a dash of “it’s not even mine, I got it from Christina last night.”
Zest of 2 fresh “this bike does not fit me”
A pinch of “Pain in my right shoulder”
Add “What do you mean there are barriers I have to jump?” and “Maybe I should have started as a CX 4 instead of 3” to taste

Directions: Combine all ingredients and bake for 45 minutes. Yield: Your first ever last place finish.

USOC Apology

2008-09-16T07:02:00.002-04:00

The press was all over it at the Olympics, but chances are you will never hear them follow up with what happened afterwards…

Sarah Hammer, Booby Lea, Jennie Reed and Mike Friedman are four cyclists I’ve written about recently. They were humiliated by the United States Olympic Committee when they were publicly harassed by the Organization for wearing carbon filtration masks in Beijing provided and recommended by the USOC’s own physicians. In my last Blog about them, I suggested the USOC owed the riders a public apology.

Well, it wasn’t public – or at least did not garner even a blip of attention from the press compared to the incident itself - but Cyclingnews.com is reporting this morning that USOC Chief Executive, Jim Scherr sent an apology in the form of a letter to each of the four cyclists saying that there was “confusion or a misunderstanding.” A spokesman for the USOC went further to say the situation could have been handled better.

Quoting Sarah Hammer from the article, “They treated us like we were just stupid athletes and like we didn’t matter.” Sarah, I think you all proved in your handling of this debacle that you are far from just stupid athletes. Your approach was respectful, dignified, calculated, mature, and successful. It’s just too bad the USOC couldn’t have shown the same poise in the masked face of adversity.

The Return of the King

2008-09-11T13:26:00.003-04:00

Lance is coming! Lance is coming! All Hail the return of the King!

I wish I could get into the heads of some of the riders of the pro peleton. I want to know what they are REALLY thinking since Lance Armstrong announced his return to cycling for 2009. I know what they are telling the press but, in all seriousness, there has got to be a collective, “Oh, Shit,” coming from the riders and team director’s. Lance garners unequivocal attention no matter where he goes and what he does. He will instantly become a favorite for another Tour victory. And I’m not sure I believe Contador when he says he will “Welcome him back with open arms.” No one vying for a Tour victory can welcome him back with open arms. No way. So here’s a collection of quotes from people around the sport reacting to Lance’s comeback, and my translation of what they are actually saying in their own head.

Alberto Contador – “I’ve always admired him and would love to race with him. I welcome him back with open arms.”
Translation: Does Lance Armstrong know he can’t be the next Lance Armstrong cuz I am the next Lance Armstrong?

Tom Danielson – “The guy has nothing to prove. Especially in my eyes.”
Translation: I’m the king of nothing to prove. I was supposed to be the next Lance Armstrong and I have continually proved nothing. 3 years post Lance and I have yet to even attempt the Tour.

George Hincapie – “I think everyone should embrace the idea of him coming back.”
Translation: Glory days. Well, they’ll pass you by, Glory Days. In the wink of Lance’s eyes, Glory Days. Glory Days.

Mark Cavendish – “I know some of the other guys like George Hincapie are really excited about this.”
Translation: I get to meet Lance! I get to meet Lance! OMG! OMG! OMG! Ooooo…I hope he likes me.

Bob Stapleton – “Lance is going to pick and hire the team he wants…not the other way around.”
Translation: Hmmm…I can knock off Johann Bruyneel and make it look like an accident. Then Lance will HAVE to pick me…I mean, I have George Hincapie! Lance is nothing without George, right? Right?

Marc Madiot, Manager, Franciase De Jeux – “Lance Armstrong has to explain himself about what happened in 1999.”
Translation: French law requires that I question the legitimacy of Lance’s accomplishments and insinuate doping allegations every chance I get.

Jan Ullrich – “If he starts then I ought to start again, too…At the moment I can’t imagine that.”
Translation: Come back to cycling, they say. Come on, everybody’s doing it, they say…that’s exactly what Dr. Fuentes said…

Egoi Matinez – “I don’t know whether to take it seriously or if it is a joke.”
Translation: Am I on candid camera? God, I hope it’s a joke. It’s a joke, right?

Carlos Sastre – “He’s a rider who can put your hair on end just by watching him on TV.”
Translation: I’m gonna watch the Tour on TV next year…see you in 2010!

Andrew Messick, Owner, AEG Sports – “We welcome him to our race (Tour of California) along with his Astana teammates.”
Translation: CHA-CHING!

Bjarne Riis – “Something must be lacking in Lance’s life for him to do this.”
Translation: I’m not qualified to comment because although I doped my way to my Tour victory I never suffered the retribution for it. Wanna see my yellow jersey?

Levi Leipheimer – “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Translation: My career is over.

Tom Boonen – “Why is everybody so impressed?”
Translation: I’m a Classics sprinter. What does this have to do with me?

The Olympics: Masking the Controversy

2008-09-11T07:10:00.006-04:00

Here, wear this mask. OK, now apologize for wearing this mask.

I’ve met one of the 4 Olympic cyclists who are now infamous for wearing black masks as they arrived at the Beijing airport. I was introduced to Mike Friedman by a mutual friend on a camping trip with my then team, Team Fuji, outside of Brevard, NC. I feel sure he would not recognize my face today, but he may remember that trip. He had just signed his first pro contract with TIAA-CREF. I remember being so impressed that I was camping with a pro cyclist (a short aside: I would soon learn that I was camping that weekend with several pro cyclists, men and women and would realize quickly that cycling is different from other sports in that respect – the pros are very accessible and the community is very tight knit. It’s a lovely thing.).

I was brand new to road racing and had just joined Team Fuji. I didn’t know anyone I was camping with save for Christina DeKraay and our friend Stephen. I remember Mike as a humble guy, clearly uncomfortable with my questions about his newly acquired contract. I have followed Mike’s career since that trip and enjoyed watching his rise to an Olympic Athlete. So, why do I bring this up?

Because Mike and his compatriots (Sarah Hammer, Jennie Reed and Bobby Lea) got a raw deal about the masks they wore in Beijing. Let’s forget the fact that these athletes were doing what many of China’s own citizens do daily. Instead, let's look closer at The United States Olympic Committee. After the incident, the USOC's Steven Rousch called the athletes a disgrace and then forced them to draft an apology or risk being removed from the Games (how very Totalitarian of him). The really, really shitty and ironic thing is it was the USOC who provided the masks. And it was the USOC’s Chief Physiologist, Dr. Randy Wilbur, who recommended the athletes wear those masks in a polluted environment when not training. So, Mike and his buddies were doing as they were told and then got slapped in the face by the very people who told them to do it. Instead of coming to thier defense, the USOC left the 4 out in the cold to bear the burden of public harassment on a global scale by themselves - each of them in their first ever Olympic Games.

The USOC really botched the handling of the matter. Mike, Sarah, Jennie and Bobby deserve a public apology.

2008 Tour de France Love/Hate

2008-08-22T09:22:00.005-04:00

What I love: The excitement of the biggest most tradition-drenched race in the world.
What I hate: The defending Champ, Alberto Contador, and his team were not competing.

What I love: Phil Ligget’s one of a kind commentary: “the fox is in the hen house now!”
What I hate: Phil got a lot of calls wrong this time around, “and here goes another break!
These riders are off the front now!” Paul Sherwin, “actually, Phil, we’re looking at the back of the peleton just now.”

What I love: Christian Vande Velde’s genuine love of the sport shining through as he talks to reporters about the day’s stage.
What I hate: George Hincapie’s lack of any sort of personality whatsoever, “mumble, mumble, thank the sponsors, mumble, mumble, good team, mumble, mumble, I couldn’t be interesting if a martian landed on my head right now.”

What I hate: Ricardo “the Cobra” Ricco and 3 of his teammates beating my favorites up the climbs of the Pyrenees without even breaking a sweat.
What I love: The headlines 3 days later: “Ricco Fails Doping Control as Saunier Duval Withdraws from the Tour.” C'est la vie.

What I love: “Nobody’s” like Will Frishkorn and Danny Pate came to their first Tour and had the guts to get in the breakaway’s, making the stages super fun to watch and getting the results that make us Americans tear up as they cross the line.
What I hate: “Somebody’s” like Cadel Evans throwing temper tantrums with the Press after the stages. Telling a reporter you’ll kill him if he steps on your little 8 pound dog lacks class. Seriously, what the fuck is your dog doing walking with you after a race when you KNOW you’re going to be swamped by people. You’re wearing the yellow jersey for cryin’ out loud! Leave your dog at home.

What I love: Lucky with unlucky. Barloworld’s John-Lee Augustyn is the first to the top of the Tour’s hardest stage and as he’s being celebrated by the commentator’s about his abilities, misjudges a right hand turn on the descent, goes over the barrier and slides 50 meters (unhurt) as his bike continues down the steep grade into the valley below.
What I hate: Unlucky with no luck. Roughly 50 km into the first stage at the very first feed zone of this year’s Tour, Cofidis rider Herve Duclos-LaSalle fell, broke his wrist and became the first rider to drop out. All that preparation gone in 50 km. My heart breaks for him.

What I love: The helicopter shots of the beautiful landscapes of France.
What I hate: When French TV is showing beauty shots from the helicopter while the riders are within 5 km of the finish. I don’t care about the 500 year old Chateau right now! I’ve been watching for 4 hours, I’ve seen enough Chateaus! Show me the riders dammit!

What I love: I’m a Broadcast Engineer so I love the TV technology used to bring incredible shots to the viewing public.
What I hate: Phil’s constant need to point out the picture glitches. “Sorry ‘bout the little bit of picture break up there. These pictures are being beamed up to the helicopter…blah, blah.” Yes, Phil, Microwave technology is exactly like Star Trek.

What I love: Silence Lotto actually thought they were going to put Cadel Evans in yellow despite having one of the weakest support teams in the Tour.
What I hate: People blasting Cadel because he didn’t end the Tour in yellow despite having one of the weakest support teams in the Tour.

What I love: Mark Cavendish schooling all the sprinters…4 times over. His uncanny ability to be blocked in at 200m and then cross the line first is just stunning to me.
What I hate: Hey, Mark, just because George Hincapie is on your team, doesn’t mean you need to give boring interviews like him. You just became the only Briton in history to win 4 stages in one Tour de France. It’s ok to show some emotion. I mean, you have to be at least a little excited, right?

What I hate: Robbie McEwen’s team left him out in the cold, opting to build itself around Cadel Evans for the overall. In the process, the team wasn’t strong enough to support Cadel and Robbie had no domestiques or lead out men to aid in his normally spectacular stage wins.
What I Love: Robbie McEwen’s poise in dealing with the situation and still being gracious to his clueless sponsors in the face of adversity. I won’t be surprised if he switches teams for next year.

What I hate: Schumacher falling on his way to the finish at Super Besse causing him to lose his yellow jersey and blaming Kim Kirchen (who ended taking the yellow that day) for it.
What I love: Kharma. In 2006, Schumacher took the overall victory at the Benelux Tour when he bumped into George Hincapie (who was leading the race at that point) causing him to crash. In this year’s Tour de France, Schumacher lost the yellow to George’s teammate, Kirchen.

What I love: All of the strong emotions surrounding the Tour.
What I hate: Writers who express their opinion and presume to know EVERYTHING about the Tour. Myself included.

UPDATE Hit 'n Run

2008-06-26T06:42:00.001-04:00

*UPDATE*

Before Steve and I parted ways, he asked for my contact info. He was going home and intending on filing a Police Report. I didn’t have a business card on me so I told him, “I work at the local NBC affiliate. My name is Jodi. If you can’t remember my name, ask for the chick that rides bikes – they’ll know who you’re talking about.”

Well, I’m happy to report that the very next morning after the incident I got a call from CMPD Officer Taylor. He recorded my side of the story and was sincere in his questioning of what can be done to offer better safety for cyclists. His tone was almost apologetic – I was a little thrown by it, although extremely grateful. A lot of times there is so much anger in the debate of a cyclists rights to the road that sometimes you feel like an Officer is just putting up with you; rolling their eyes at you on the inside. Officer Taylor was not like that at all. I ended my part of the conversation with, “It’s just a shame this taxi driver is going to get away with hurting someone like that.”

“Actually he’s not,” said the Officer. My ears perked up and a drop of happy hit my heart. Turned out there was a passenger in the taxi. The happy flooded my heart. She heard the bang on the side of the car and when she turned around, had seen Steve crashing. She questioned the driver about it, but he did not speak English. She willed him to turn around and when he didn’t, she called 911. That woman deserves a huge collective hug from the cycling community. I hope she realizes the importance of what she did and I hope Karma returns the favor for her.

As for Steve, in all the chaos the other day, I didn’t even catch his last name. I would love to check on him and see how he’s healing. So, if anyone sees a guy out there in a Hammer Gel jersey riding a Colnago Dream, please tell him Jodi’s looking for him.

Be safe, friends.

Happy Birthday, Steve…Here’s a Hit ‘n Run!

2008-06-25T08:58:00.004-04:00

Oftentimes, I like to head over to the Booty Loop after work for a light workout. I get to be with other cyclists and the camaraderie is a nice departure from the typical 3 hour ride I spend by myself. Most of the time, I find a rider better than myself that will push me into some good intervals. So yesterday, after punching the time clock at 3PM, I left work and made my way over to the Booty. Sure enough within the first lap, I had a riding buddy. We didn’t talk much – just entered into the silent “you pull for a lap, I’ll pull for a lap” agreement that most cyclists understand.

We had a good pace going - not too slow, not too fast. My buddy (I hadn’t yet asked his name) was leading me up Heartbreak Hill (Hopedale Ave) and at the top it would be my turn to pull. As we came around the corner and merged onto Queens Road, a green taxi switched lanes in the intersection and came into our lane. The rear end side of the car clipped my buddy sending him flying across 2 lanes of traffic. I slammed on my brakes skidding my rear tire whilst screaming at the taxi driver. I squinted hard to get some part of the license plate, but the driver took off so fast, I couldn’t see anything but the color of the vehicle. I yelled to a passing vehicle to get after him, but she looked at me like I was crazy. And I’m sure I was a little crazy. I had just witnessed a hit and run, my buddy’s on the ground bleeding and people are rubbernecking instead of catching the asshole whose gonna get away with this. From the ground I hear, “Go after him!” I assumed my buddy was ok so I took off on a full sprint riding as fast as I could, hoping the stop lights would, for once, work in my favor. I was pedaling at 30 mph but as fast as that is for a bicycle, it’s simply no match for a car and the taxi got away.

Completely out of breath, I returned to the scene of the hit and run. It was like nothing had happened. Nobody had stopped. Nobody had offered assistance. My buddy had scraped himself off the road and put himself on the sidewalk. He was standing up checking out his bike. He was red from his left knee up to his left hip and the blood was seeping through his bike shorts on his thigh. There seemed to be no skin left on his left palm. I asked if he was sure he was ok. “Yeah, you know how it is – doesn’t hurt much now, but this time tomorrow will be unbearable.”

I helped him adjust his handlebar back into place as we discussed what had happened and what went wrong. It’s a tough intersection as the 1 lane road goes to 2 lanes on the Booty side. But, the intersection is set up so that traffic coming through it is delivered into the left lane of Queens Road so merging traffic can take up the right lane. Oftentimes, people change lanes in the intersection which is confusing for the merging traffic. Still, even if you’re conducting an illegal lane change in the intersection, there is plenty of sight and reaction time, that if traffic does merge into the right lane, you should be able to correct yourself without incident. However, for some reason, this taxi driver continued changing lanes until his tires had almost hit the curb. Of course by then, he had already hit a cyclist. Maybe the driver was distracted by a phone call…or looking for a cd. Maybe he hates cyclists and decided to “teach us a lesson”. Whatever the reason, we’ll never know because that asshole took off. Hit and Run. Felony.

After our brief conversation, I finally asked my buddy his name. “Steve,” he answers with a shake of his head. “And today is my birthday.”

Well, Happy Birthday Steve, I hope you don’t mind; I didn’t wrap your present. I couldn’t find wrapping paper big enough for a hit and run.

I wish you a speedy recovery and safe riding when you get back on your bike.

Someone finally got it right!

2008-06-16T08:58:00.003-04:00

I can't believe it was South Carolina! Finally, legislation that protects cyclists! I'm floored. Will this keep cyclists from getting harassed and hit by people driving cars? No, but it will make it easier to prosecute those who do. A pedal stroke in the right direction.

http://www.thestate.com/politics/story/430331.html

I Paid For These Roads: Now Get the Hell Off 'Em!

2008-06-05T13:40:00.005-04:00

One of the arguments that many motorists use as an excuse to hate cyclists is “My vehicle taxes pay for these roads so they are mine, now get the hell off!” There are so many ways this line of thinking is wrong that it’s somewhat hard to decide where to begin.

I guess my first question is who the hell started the rumor that only vehicle taxes pay for our roads? Where did you hear that and where is your proof? If that was true, we’d all be walking on dirt roads to and from work. There simply wouldn't be enough money generated to keep up with demand. Go to your county government’s website for God’s sake and look at where the revenue comes from and where it goes. Any idiot can do that. Take up too much of your time? OK, let me break it down for you.

Wherever you live, you pay county taxes. Some of us pay City/Municipality taxes as well, but let’s focus on County Taxes since that’s where the money for our roads comes from sans Interstates (Federal Taxes) and State owned roads (duh, State taxes). I’ll use Mecklenburg County, NC for my argument since that is where I live and ride. Property tax needs a definition before we can go any further. According to Charmeck.org, “Property taxes are leveled on real property (land and buildings), business personal property, motor vehicles, boats, trailers and income producing personal property.” Of those, I technically own 4 pieces of real property (because a home and the land on which it sits are assessed separately and I own 2 homes), and 1 motor vehicle. The current tax rate in Mecklenburg right now is .8387 per $100 of property value. Using that formula my vehicle tax will bring the County a whopping $89 of revenue. However, between my 2 homes, the County will reap about $3003 from my pocket. Still want to tell me I’m not contributing to the building and maintaining of the roads I ride my bike on?

It’s really all a moot point anyway because our property taxes are all lumped into one sum and in Mecklenburg County that sum accounts for 76.1% of the total revenue. There’s no way to track where a specific dollar paid by a taxpayer has gone. So when you say your vehicle taxes paid for these roads, you’re making a grossly uneducated assumption to justify the harassment, hurting and sometimes killing of another law abiding taxpayer. In fact, let’s apply that way of thinking to motorists instead of cyclists. Suppose you want to spend the weekend in the mountains. Well, you better get a good pair of sneakers because you certainly won’t be driving around Asheville to see the sites. Why? Oh, poor you. You didn’t pay Buncombe County Property taxes, so you’re not entitled to drive those roads. Want to go to the Outer Banks? I hope you’ve paid your Dare County Property Tax. No? Too bad. No Jockey Ridge hang gliding for you.

Equally as ridiculous is this: the entitlement that is suggested with the “my taxes, my roads, get off” myth. Entitlement meaning, I pay taxes on the car and you don’t pay taxes on that bike, so I have more rights to this road. More generally put, if I pay more in taxes than you, I am contributing more the community, so I get more rights than you. How fucked up would that be? Here’s how: if you rent, you’re not paying real estate taxes and, therefore, are paying considerably less to the County than me. Approximately $3000 less. So that would mean all renters need to get the hell out of my way when I’m driving to the market place. Rush Hour? Not a problem for us homeowners – your renting ass needs to get the hell off the road and make way for the people who contribute more!

Apart from that nonsense, is the fact that our Property Taxes pay for many, many things. Roads are just one small fraction in an otherwise extremely complicated equation. Again, according to Charmeck.org, “When you call the police or fire department, play in a park, send your children to public school, check out a book at the library, or eat at an inspected restaurant you are using services paid for by your property taxes. Your taxes also pay for services to help people move from welfare to work, protect children and senior citizens from abuse and neglect, protect our water and air from pollution, repair and build roads and much, much more.” So, as long as I’m paying my taxes, which I do every year in full and on time, I have every right to be riding my bike without harassment on a road that all Mecklenburg County residents helped pay for.

“My taxes, my road, get off” myth: Debunked.

Cyclist vs. Cold Front

2008-05-21T08:41:00.001-04:00

As every cyclist knows, every ride is an adventure. However some stand out among others. Yesterday was one of those days.

2PM. Leave my house for a 3 hour training ride under beautiful skies. I plan for an easy effort as my training hours have been greatly hampered this spring by family obligations and a lot of traveling. Coming up a hill on Mt. Olive Church road, I see a middle aged man walking toward me with his Golden Retriever. He puts his thumb out like a hitchhiker, “Can I get a ride?” I laugh with him and say, “I got plenty of room on my handlebar. Hop on!” Nice, it’s gonna be a good day on the bike. Sigh.

1 Km later, I hear a big vehicle pull up behind me. “Get your ass out of the way!” I hear someone scream. I round a bend as the vehicle, a school bus, comes around me. There is a scrawny junior high school kid hanging half his torso out the window yelling obscenities at me. This kid doesn’t even have a license yet and, presumably, doesn’t know the traffic laws, yet he’s pissed that I’m on the road. Must’ve learned it from his parents. Lovely.

Continuing on, after about an hour of riding I come to a stop light. I can’t help but notice the sky has darkened rather quickly in the direction I’m headed. I contemplate turning around and heading home but decide against it. The storm looks to be coming from the west so if I can get to the top of Spencer Mountain before the rain starts, it’ll just be a foot race between me and the clouds to get home. So, at this point, I’m looking at a 2 hour time trial, essentially. Great, let’s get started.

The light turns green and I turn the pedals once before my left calf cramps up. I bring the bike to a stop and massage the Charlie Horse. That’s weird, I think to myself. I don’t normally get muscle cramps. In fact I can count on one hand exactly how many I’ve had in my 28 year athletic involvement. I continue on, regardless. The sky grows increasingly darker and the winds have started to gust like crazy.

Heading up through Mount Holly I start to see lightening and hear thunder in the distance. “What the FUCK?” I hear myself screaming as my hand involuntarily reaches for my chest. Something had flown in my jersey and stung me on my sternum. As I fidget around trying to get whatever is in my jersey out, I hear an old lady yell at me as she passes me on a hill. “Get the hell off the road!” What is with people today? 500m down the road, it happens again. “What the FUCK?” This time my hand was reaching for my neck. Apparently, I’m not just pissing off humans today.

OK, now I’m about 5 miles from the bottom of Spencer Mountain and although there is thunder and lightening, there is no rain…yet. Flying along at 25 miles an hour, several huge raindrops hit the ground around me. Here we go, I think. But it stopped. Then several more. Oh, crap. But then it stopped. I just…might…get…lucky. Then it poured. But only for about 15 seconds. I picked up the pace trying to outrun what was coming up behind me. I came around a corner only to find a long line of traffic stuck behind a school bus. I rode into the grass – brakes don’t work as well once they’re wet. I stayed in the grass until I passed most of the traffic and then continued.

As I made the left turn onto Spencer Mountain, the sun came out and the temp rose quickly. I had a hard time with the hill, having been pushing myself for the past hour trying to outrun the rain, which I had assumingly accomplished. As I made another left turn at the top of the Mountain to head back home, I looked over my left shoulder and saw the black clouds of a thunderstorm off in the distance that I had very narrowly escaped. Looks like Mountain Island Lake is getting pounded. I was now paralleling the storm. The threat of imminent death was greatly reduced. Now I could relax.

Well, relax as best as I could. The winds had been battering me for over an hour now and they hadn’t stopped. It’s Murphy’s Law for cyclists – I call it Merckx’s Law. The wind will always come from the front and very rarely from the back. You have to push much harder and you go slower than ever. And when you’re tired – expect the winds to pick up even more. It’s a little joke Mother Nature likes to play on her children. Every direction was a headwind. I’d lean into a gust with my left shoulder and then it instantly turned and comes from my right. It’s a good lesson in bike handling, but my legs are killing me and the wind just means I have to pedal harder to get nowhere faster.

20 minutes from home and the sky starts to darken again. This time Lake Wylie is about to get hit, which means I’m back in the path of the storm. I push as hard as I can to get home. I make it home with about 3 minutes to spare before the down pour – calf still cramping, eyes bloodshot from the road grit blown into them and 2 swollen sting marks on body. Echos of angry drivers circle my mind and the hitchhiker that made me smile. A quick look at weather radar reveals thunderstorm warnings in effect for the areas in which I had been riding. Close call.

One huge deep breath and it’s into a bubble bath with a glass of wine for me. Finally time to relax…for real.

Close Calls and One Pissed Off Cyclist

2008-05-05T11:15:00.002-04:00

A member of my team was hit by a car recently. The driver of a truck turned left in front of her and she t-boned it. Her collar bone is broken and she has a lot painful bruising. She’ll be off the bike for 5 weeks.

This same scenario plays out often. I remember one instance a couple years ago in Charlotte. The difference: the cyclist was going down a hill and the vehicle turning left was a city bus. The cyclist died on impact, and the media (including the TV Station I work for) instantly assumed it was the cyclists fault.

And it never seems like charges are filed and if they are, then it’s little more than a slap on the wrist. You just killed someone! And no one is going to hold you accountable. That is appalling to me. I will mention, however that all Charlotte city buses now have a 6 inch by 6 inch sticker on the back that says, “Share the Road.” Gee, thanks. A 6 inch sticker on a mass transit bus really stands out. I feel much safer now.

This kind of shit happens way too often to cyclists. I have close calls all the time and I imagine it’s just a matter of “when” it happens and not “if.”

Take yesterday for instance. I was coming down a hill into the town of McAddenville. My light was green and I was turning right when an old lady decided to run her red light and very nearly take me out. I was able to cut my turn sharper than I had intended without laying the bike down. I ended up very close to her passenger side screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK?” The driver turned her head toward me like she was surprised to see me then quickly turned her head away and drove off with out so much as any gesture of remorse for almost killing me.

It was a good thing I had been slowing down for the turn. Had I been going straight through the intersection, it would have been a very bad day for me. It disgusts me that some humans are so desensitized that the thought of killing someone don’t seem to bother them. Like the bus driver. He’s still driving a bus. How does he not have flashbacks to robbing another person of his life because of a mistake all his own? How does he live with himself?

Why is it ok to run a cyclist off the road? Because maybe you’ll just hurt ‘em enough to prove your point? And that point being what? And why is that a rational decision to so many?

I will never be sympathetic to people who can rationalize the hurting or killing of cyclists.

The Magic Number

2008-05-02T06:56:00.001-04:00

A contractor came to my house the other day to deliver my new cast iron Kohler sink (beautiful sink, by the way). As he stood at my doorway and peered past me into my “family room” (I use that term loosely), he caught a glimpse of my bike sitting on my trainer. My bike is the only thing in the room aside from a cat tree and a couple of plants.

“You ride bikes?”
The smart ass in me wanted to say, “No, why do you ask?” But, since this guy didn’t know me and might be offended by my witty sarcasm, I answered with, “Yeah, I love it.”

“Yeah, I have a friend that rides…he actually races.”
“Yeah? Me, too.”

“He has the whole get up – the clothes, the shoes, everything.”
“Really? Me, too.”

“Yeah, he has one of those like $5000 bikes. It’s REALLY nice. It’s REALLY light. I could pick it up with one finger.”
Again, the sarcastic ass in me wants to go to town on this guy. I love that he wants to try and have a conversation about biking. I really do. But, why is it that as soon as someone finds out I ride bikes, all of a sudden they all have friends with “one of those $5000 bikes.” Not $3000 or $6000. $5000 seems to be the magic price at which I should be impressed.

What’s funnier to me is that the contractor was saying this as he was staring at my bike, which he obviously had no clue fell right into that magic $5000 category. Nice bikes are not a rarity and five grand is not a surprising amount for a bike. I’m more impressed by what people do ON the bike rather than how much debt they went into to purchase it.

Not Bad...For a Girl

2008-04-23T14:43:00.004-04:00

I’d like to talk about three little words (well, technically 4 words if you drop the apostrophe): “Wow! You’re strong!” I get this quite often from my male counterparts in my sport and it’s always the less fit, hairy legged ones that look like they spend maybe 3 days a year on a bike. And it always seems to come when I’m out just spinning for fun. I know it seems benign and I know I should take it as a compliment. However, I can't. I used to answer it with, “Really? Why do you say that?” And the answer I got - “Well, you kept up with us really good” – made me want to pull my hair out.

To the gents who have said this to me, let's have a heart to heart. Now apart from cringing at your poor grammar of using “good” instead of “well,” hearing that response makes me now want to answer those three words with, “Why? Cuz I kept up with your fat ass?” I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the surprise in your voice and not the actual words you say. Basically your tone is telling me that you think of yourself as a strong cyclist and find it surprising that I, being a woman, could possibly match or (God forbid) surpass your fitness level. You’re telling me, “Hey, you’re pretty good…for a girl.” I mean, did you look at all the guys around you on the ride today and say, “Wow! You’re strong!” No? Hmmm.

Let me give you the bitter truth. Try not to cry. And try not to feel like less of a man. Not unlike most competitive cyclists, I spend between 12 and 18 hours a week in the saddle. I train constantly with riders (many of them women) far better than me. I train with pros. I race against pros. 100 miles in the mountains? No problem. Suffice to say, keeping up with you on your little 45 mile ride at 17 mph; not exactly hard. And it shouldn’t surprise you.

I'm glad we had this talk. You up for Green Cove road in the morning? 26 switchbacks? 17% grade? No? Hmm...

Charleston Races: The Alpaca Supremacy?

2008-04-21T08:16:00.000-04:00

“I really want it. I have to have it.” Hadley had been talking about it since last year. The team was standing around an island in Len and Linda Hanson’s kitchen at their home in I’on Village. Before us was a spread of food that included fresh fruits and veggies as well as sandwich fixin’s and a curry chicken salad to die for. Hadley’s face was a color similar to the celery – a little pale, a little green. I had never seen her so nervous before a race. “What’s wrong with her?” our host family asked.

We had seen it earlier that morning. It was hanging behind the registration table taunting us; begging to be touched and well within our reach but so far from our grasp. It was not a unicorn this year, nor was it a rug, but it was just as glorious: an Alpaca Killer Whale Pillow Sham!

All talk steered toward a plan to capture the big prize of the day. And with each plan Hadley looked more worried. We still had 4 hours before our race started. Thank goodness for the Hanson’s and thank goodness for their beautiful home and especially the pool which served as a great place to relax. The race approached. 3:55 PM and finally it was race time!

Annie and I were lined up at the front. The officials presented the Alpaca Killer Whale Pillow Sham to the racers. The gun went off. “Alpaca Prime on the first lap! First lap Alpaca Prime!” called the announcer, Chad Andrews. I took off knowing full well I would destroy my legs for the rest of the race. The group was strung out as we rounded a corner into a headwind. Christina came around me with Hadley and Annie on her wheel. We rounded the last 2 corners of the first lap and the sprint started on the slight incline to the start/finish line. The familiar sound of gears changing and wind passing loudly around spokes filled the air as the pace quickened. The sprint was on.

“And the Alpaca Prime goes to…Hadley Trotter, Team 19!” Whew! The pressure was off. Now it was time to win the race. Would it be possible?

Um, yes. A flurry of attacks and chases kept the pace very fast. But in the end, it wasn’t enough to slow down Christina who took the field sprint and the win at the I’on Village Smackdown for Team 19 WSD.

Back at the Hanson’s, our new friends Len and Linda, who had been at the race cheering for us, set out glasses and 2 bottles of Champagne. We celebrated our victories with a toast to each other and a big thanks to our hosts, who were the honorary team members of the day for keeping us well fed and hydrated all day long.

Now the big question – will it be possible to have an Alpaca Prime next year? Four years running? Fingers crossed.

The Alpaca Pack

2008-04-15T12:43:00.000-04:00

Looking forward to the Charleston Races next weekend, I figured I’d take a moment to take a look back. Our team has had great success at these races. We will return this year as defending winners of both the I’on Village Smackdown and the SC State Crit Championship.

Flashback to the start line last year and an offer for what is perhaps the strangest Prime prize ever: a 4ft x 4ft Genuine Alpaca fur rug with a unicorn design on it worth $250. Is this serious? Did I just hear that correctly? Yessiree, Bob! First across the line on the first lap gets to take this baby home! As all the racers at the line start chuckling a bit, Hadley turns to Annie and I and proclaims, “I want it!”

The race starts and off goes Hadley at warp speed. “I thought she was kidding,” I yelled to Annie as the pack started chasing after Hadley. Nope! She was serious. She out sprinted one other racer for the rug. Later that racer came over to us, pulled up her jersey to reveal a unicorn tattoo on her shoulder. She had really wanted the rug. Unfortunately, it had a force all its own that would not let Hadley give it up.

Annie ended up taking a Prime as well (a gift certificate which she gave to me for helping out in the race, thanks Annie, those beers were deelish!) that ended up putting her on a solo breakaway that won her the race.
Next weekend the Alpaca Pack, with a few new members, will take to the streets of Charleston for, hopefully, some continued success. One things for sure, though. No matter what, we’re gonna have a good time!

Camp Pisgah

2008-04-15T12:38:00.001-04:00

Team 19 WSD, along with friends and Significant Others, spent a long weekend in the mountains of North Carolina for team training camp. Pisgah Girl Scouts Camp provided the shelter and the areas surrounding Brevard provided the climbing needed for a great weekend.

I love the mountains. On my bike, it’s a love/hate relationship, but otherwise, I really, really love the mountains. I used to live in this area and I never pass up an opportunity to return. Upon the team’s arrival at Camp Pisgah, there was a flurry of unpacking and claiming of sleeping territory – mostly cots with plastic covered mattresses that made diaper sounds when you moved on them. I discovered a box spring and mattress hiding in a closet, so sorry ladies, I had the best arrangement. With sleeping quarters taken care of, we were off on the bikes for “a little jaunt”. Within 10 minutes, we hit a leg breaking climb that had all of us wondering what we had gotten into. But, after that, we got to climb and, more importantly, descend Cesar’s Head Mountain. For me, Cesar’s Head is the biggest bang for the buck. The climb is gradual over several miles – no too bad – but, the descent is about 6 miles of 40mph downhill, my personal favorite. The ride ended up lasting longer than we had intended and even longer for a small bunch who decided to ride ahead…and then got lost. The sun was going down fast and it had started raining, so we sent the cavalry out for them only to find out they had knocked on the door of a random house, disturbing a man having a shower, yelling at the top of his lungs, who eventually gave them directions back to camp. A friend of ours, Sonja, cooked a heck of a pasta dinner for us all and we sat down and shared stories of the day.

Saturday morning we fueled up on breakfast prepared by Sarah. It is worth noting here, that the littlest woman on our team, Flavia, it turns out, puts away twice as much food as anyone else at camp. Seriously, it’s absolutely remarkable. Anyway, after marveling at Flavia for an hour, we headed out for a long day that included a 20 mile climb on Rt. 215 up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. As we climbed to the higher elevation, ice and snow started appearing on the rock faces and ground. In fact, ice chunks were falling from the rocks at a velocity that could cause a serious injury. At times, I was hoping one would hit me. It turned out the Parkway was closed due to snow and ice, so we had to come back down what we had just climbed.

I love going downhill. It’s really the only thing I excel at in cycling so when faced with a 20 mile downhill, I get excited. Unfortunately for me, and the entire group, it was insanely cold – hands so numb you can’t even tell if you’re braking; legs shaking uncontrollably; eyes tearing then freezing on your cheeks. So, rounding the bend heading back up to camp was a welcome sight. Also, a welcome sight was the baby goat on the farm, Cupid (born on Valentine’s Day), that greeted us each time we arrived back at the cabin. I’m convinced that, because of Cupid, Hadley and Monica will own a goat before the end of March…and they shall call her “Frances.”

That night we headed into town for a little Mexican feast. By dinner’s end, there was only one plate scraped clean without a morsel left of which to speak. I offered Flavia one of my fajitas, but she swore she was full. I still wonder.

Sunday’s ride was the same loop as Friday for some of us. Another group decided on a slightly shorter route, which ended up being longer than they thought when they took a wrong turn (ha,ha). I think they knew they were in trouble when they saw our group climbing toward them. It worked out in the end though. It was nice to have them join us and finish the last ride of the weekend with the whole group in tact. And despite a small misreading of speed on a curve that left me in a ditch going down Cesar’s Head, the day went well. Back at the cabin, we had some lunch and then prepared to say our goodbyes to each other…and Cupid. I was really quite sad as I watched everyone leave to their respective home cities – Richmond, Blacksburg, Chapel Hill, Charlotte. But, as sad as I was then, I am equally as proud to continue to be associated with such a great group of people.