:road race report: patterson pass:.

Helen Keller wrote, "Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved." 


Granted, comparing the relatively minor trials we experience as cyclists, to the courageous life of Keller may seem blasphemous. However, I do believe that the sentiment behind her quote motivates many of us cyclists. Our weekend rides or races become more than a workout, more than a social outing--these rides become moments for us to grow internally. By subjecting ourselves to these painful experiences, and by crossing the finishing line, we give ourselves an opportunity to become mentally stronger, and grow the faith we have in ourselves.


It was during my second climb up Patterson Pass that I had this aha moment. Only two miles from the finish line, turning around and quitting would have been easy. I dropped off the pack at the beginning of the race, and completed the first lap alone. I wondered why bother finishing, if I was to sit in the wind by myself for another lap. I've never felt wind like that. If you weren't careful, the shear winds could easily knock you over. Going up and over Patterson Pass, the wind was head-on. It is a 20% grade, for about a quarter of a mile. The few miles ahead of that are gentle grade with an equally bad head wind. The second climb is not so steep, however the hot sun was fully present.


As I began the second lap, I thought about the DNF {did not finish} on my race record. I had one DNF this year, from a broken chain {the chain was lost, irreparable} and it kills me every time I see it. I hate not finishing things, but Patterson Pass was just hurting so badly. Riding by myself is so lonely. At least when I'm mountain biking the thrill of obstacles keep the mind distracted. On an open stretch of road, loneliness and boredom creeps in. It is most threatening on a climb. When the mind gets bored, self-doubt can sneak in and cause the racer to just stop. That is one of my greatest fears--that I will have to just stop to rest, because I'm too mentally weak to carry on. I know that the physical strength is there, but often times our minds trick us and destroy our self-faith.


Into this second lap I decided to focus all of my energy into positive thinking. "I am going to finish this race." That is what I said to myself over and over again as I climbed up the pass. As I went through the final lap on the barren stretches of road, the horses gathered near the fence-lines. {This next bit will sound rather cheesy, and I apologize in advance, bear with me}. I thought of those great animals galloping across vast spaces--not fearing the emptiness of the landscape. I only wanted to finish my race strong, and positive. That's how I want to race. I may not be a winner, but I'm very happy to be amongst the finishers.

Gluten Free Oven Fried Chicken:.

I don't usually make things like fried chicken; just want to set the record straight--I wouldn't want my reputation as a health-nut-bohemian to be ruined. I'm typically afraid of using any more than 2 TBSP of olive oil in any dish. However, there are exceptions to every rule and tonight is Skeggs, and the theme for the menu is cold fried chicken.

This was my official first attempt at fried chicken, but because I had seen my Auntie Millie make oven fried chicken for my Dad's birthday this year I had faith. She mentioned an important step is making sure the oil is very hot before you put the chicken into it. A second key point was bringing the chicken to room temperature before putting it into the oil. All of these steps are to prevent the batter from being soggy.

Skin vs. Skinless::

So one point I couldn't budge on was having skinless chicken. I don't want to be preachy, but chicken skin is one the least appetizing things I can think of...that must come from deboning and skinning the chickens myself. After researching dozens of websites, and digging through redneck propaganda, it seemed that fried chicken would be just fine without skin.

What type of oil::

Second point--I was not about to use Crisco, butter, or lard, to cook with in large quantities. I probably would have used peanut oil, but here's the long and short of it: we bought way to much food at Costco for the wedding. Two jugs of olive oil to be exact. I used olive oil.

:: I looked through many, many fried chicken recipes, and compiled the best of everything. ::
________________________________
Ingredients:
Healthy chicken--look for air chilled, humanely raised, no antibiotics used
Brine--you can find many recipes for this online
Cultured buttermilk
Glutino Gluten Free Bread Crumbs
Bob's Red Mill Gluten Free All Purpose Flour
pepper
garlic salt
olive oil
________________________________

1) Brine:: After preparing the chicken, cover it in brine overnight. When ready to cook, rinse the brine off the chicken and pat dry. {If you are doing skinless, remove the skin before setting the chicken in brine}. If the chicken is too wet, it will prevent the buttermilk from sticking.

2) Pour cultured buttermilk into a bowl.

3) On a large plate, prepare bread crumb/flour mixture:
_________
Glutino Gluten Free Bread Crumbs
Bob's Red Mill Gluten Free All Purpose Flour
Ground Black Pepper
Garlic Salt
_________

4) Fill a cookie sheet pan about halfway with olive oil, place in oven, and set temperature to 400 degrees. Do not put anything in the oven until preheating is done. This will ensure the oil is hot enough before putting the chicken on the pan.

5) Dip the chicken in the buttermilk, and let all the access drip off.

6) Roll the chicken in the gluten free flour/breadcrumb mixture.

7) Using metal tongs {this is a must!}, gently place the chicken in the hot oil. Be very careful with this step. After this point I never removed the pan from the oven rack, far too dangerous. Anyone who has ever been burned by oil knows that this is very serious. Whenever I had to turn the chicken, or add or remove pieces I gently slid the oven rack to the "out" position, where it was still stable. Make sure to also not put your face too close to the hot pan, as the oil does spit rather far sometimes.

8) After the chicken has been in the pan for about two minutes, using the metal tongs, I gently shook each piece to prevent it from sticking to the pan. Put back in oven and cook for about 15 minutes. You're looking for the flour mixture to reach a golden brown color.

9) Before you flip each piece, gently shake it again to undo any sticking to the pan. Turn each piece. Let cook for at least ten more minutes.

10) If you're cooking drumsticks you may have to flip them onto a third side. If you do, just cook it long enough to get the flour mixture golden brown.

11) Finally, pull out each piece and place on a wire rack to let the oil drip off. Do not remove the pan from the oven yet. Leave it in the oven till it cools off.
____________________________________________________

:: davis 4th of july criterium

Argh, Davis. My teammate pointed out that writing your report from a bad race is supremely difficult. I can't agree more. It's rare for me to be truly disappointed with myself after a race. Even when I place poorly I look on the brighter side. Racing has so many legitimate determining factors. The outcome of race goes beyond fitness, beyond decisions, and beyond position. The outcome is a random combination of all the above, like a lotto. Each racers individual abilities and split second decisions tumble around in a great big barrel. Finally, at the end, the placement emerges. This is how I perceive crit racing specifically.

I need to own up to a misconception of mine--which has earned me a big ole slice of crow pie. I used to think winning races on the road meant not working. I had a flawed understanding that the person winning the race does the least amount of work. NOT TRUE! It's only now, after a mere four crit races in my books, that I understand how much work it takes to be a protected rider. It takes smarts, speed, and bravery. To stay protected means feeling ultimately comfortable cornering in the pack, moving up in the pack, and being surrounded by god only knows who. The riders able to stay protected are working harder than most understand. The entire race they work for that position, and it is not static.

My goal for this race was to stay protected, stay out of the wind, ride closer to wheels. I'm still so new to riding in a pack and although I feel confident in my abilities, I am terrified by other riders. The starting line was perfect. I started in front {goal number two}. I clipped in fast. Then, I paused, I decided that instead of pedaling, I would brake and wait to fall in behind my teammates. I don't know why, it was a split second decision. Going into the turns a strange fear fell over me. In mountain biking I never let the fear of crashing control my riding. I usually shake these worries and hold strong. The first rider cut into my line in the turn. I imagined crashing. I braked again. This became the theme of the race {Joie braking through turns}. As my favorite cross country pro once said, "I proceeded to ride like a small child" {Adam Craig}.

On the F street stretch I jumped to move back up into the pack, holding steady in turn one, and through the next turn. I worked so hard on those stretches to get back onto a wheel. Then we entered the chicane streets and the fear overwhelmed me in each turn. I braked. I slowed. I let the pack zoom past me. Then I started chasing again. There are only so many jumps in these legs--I'm no Kermit. With ten laps to go I fell off the back and couldn't catch back on...I was so spent. My heart rate wasn't recovering. The hot air of a once cow town singed my throat. I went through the motions of inhale and exhale, but no oxygen could replenish my depraved muscles. I shuddered at the possibility of another dnf on my race results. I pushed through, and sat in the wind alone. With my one lap to go, Karena lapped me at the finish line. I finished my final lap.

It's hard to say just where my race went sour. Like I already said, the final placement in a race is a culmination of multiple factors. During my warmup my legs felt like jello, and I knew I wouldn't have the punch to race with the threes. I tried to ignore my premonition. I had such a hard time breathing during this race, it could have been my lungs. However, there is a single factor which I know had more impact than any other. My decision making. I made small decisions throughout the race, leading to a bigger outcome. A butterfly effect, of sorts. That's why I'm unhappy with my race. I had complete control over the outcome of this race and biffed it. Oh well. Another lesson learned.



p.s. I'm loving road racing.

:: and now a criterium! red peloton crit @ santa rosa

Can you believe I gave up a weekend preriding in Downieville to be a road racer? I know, I feel sheepish even admitting to it. I just felt so fed up with a lack of progress in mountain biking fitness that I needed something new. What do they say about the definition of crazy? "Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results." I feel like I've been training the same way for six months and haven't made much progress. So it's time to shake things up, and I started with Pescadero. I decided to keep rolling on that ball and signed up for the Red Peloton criterium in Santa Rosa. Yes, the same weekend as a massive Downieville preride, but we have to make sacrifices with the bigger picture in mind. Racing these road races is a last minute effort to boost and peak my fitness before nationals.

Another 3/4 race--means riding with the big girls. I never realized I'd be racing with my incredibly fantastic teammate Karena Shannon. In case you hadn't heard, she is a force to be reckoned with--she has power, speed, and prowess. I knew the game would be "drop the fours", a very intelligent practice to keep the race safe. Unfortunately for me, I'm a four. From the beginning I'd be chasing. This is my second criterium {technically third if you count one of the Early Bird crits} and my goals for the day are simple: 1) don't crash 2) anticipate the jumps 3) finish with the pack and don't get dropped.

Karena never ceases to amaze me. From the gun, she is off the front, setting the tone for the race. The entire field and I are chasing her through turns. Going into the second lap she slackens the pace a tad--just enough to let us to form a group. That doesn't last long. I have the slightest amount of time to catch my breath before Karena launches another attack. This will be the name of the game today. She sits, perched, hidden amongst the riders, at least eight wheels back. When least expected she comes out of the paceline and drives up the side all the way to the front, like a freight train. In true form she hauls us all around the course for another lap before letting off the gas.

At this point I'm gasping for air. The only thoughts are don't get dropped, don't get dropped. I learn how to pedal through turns. I find my gearing {thanks Furman}. As I ride the turns I search for a wheel to follow. It's incredibly hard to sit in and rest, as there aren't many riders and we ride single file. I sit in the wind. I don't give up though. I begin to wonder how much more I can take. I am at max capacity. Luckily the lap cards say two to go. I think back to the Merco criterium. I remember that at three laps to go we would still have time. In that race I missed the moment. That single moment that defines a field sprint race--when the pack accelerates and your placing will dictate the finale of your race. I refused to let this race pan out the same way. A few of the the threes had already broken off the front--however there were enough of us willing to work and keep pushing. Instead of waiting for that moment to happen, I jumped. Luckily the timing was right, and the girls around me had thought the same thing. We are all racing together towards the leaders.

Coming around the final turn I had the presence of mind {I'm not really sure how, as I was clearly in oxygen deprivation mode} to sprint. I sprinted for some midpack placing. It's the principle that matters. The principle says you always sprint and you always finish strong. Looking at my heart rate post race I hit an all time high--193 BPM as I came through the finish line. I finished 11th out of 20 racers. It was a ball.

:: what? a road race?

I haven't been riding as fast as I hoped, for the point in the year. I took most of May off from training to focus on school {I do not regret this, it pays huge dividends}. Coming back into racing this June I have done rather poorly at Tamarancho and Skyline. Yes I finished the races, and I had a good time, but I did hope to be in better shape. Suddenly I feel a fire under my seat to push myself harder and work to increase my speed. I decided to start racing road. {Queue the dramatic music} I also figure its acceptable because I am a hybrid cyclist--pure nothing, only a mashup of many different bicycles from fixed to grocery getters. The mountain bikers make fun of me for being a weight weenie roadie, and the roadies think I'm pure dirt. I've even had people assume I don't own a road bike or that I ride mountain pedals on the road. Really?

This doing it all attitude follows me in life, but there are limitations. No person can be great at everything. You can be mediocre at everything, or really great at one thing. I have chosen to attempt personal greatness {read: as good as I can be} in cross country mountain biking. I accept that even though I will do my best at road racing, it won't be my strong suit. I'm happy with that. It takes the pressure off of me, so that I can focus on riding hard and having fun. Goal numero uno: don't get dropped!

This decision unfolded after Skyline. With very little planning or forethought {three days to be exact} I decided to race Pescadero. Lacking the energy to preride, Isaias and I predrove the course. I hadn't become human again after Skyline until the day of the race. My legs were mush up to that point in time. Most of my teammies {Team iPass} raced with me. I love my teammates and I don't see them enough so I was excited just to be there. I won't deny that I woke up a little scared that I wouldn't finish the race. Pescadero is infamous. Forty seven miles, ~ 3000' of climbing, and it finishes after an approximate two miles climb from highway 84 to the top of Haskins Rd.

Race start: crazy huge pack on a narrow road will poor pavement. The climb begins and the Masters women are at the front driving the pace. I work hard to maneuver around people. We begin the short descent and I work even harder to get around the slower descenders. Being stuck now means losing the main group on the climb. My goal is to get ahead and bridge up to the main pack. It doesn't happen, we are strung out. Turning up 84 the first time I see my teammates up the road. I accelerate to get up to the them and a few others. Our communication is excellent and we form a perfect chase group. Luckily, Kimmy and Goose have wisdom and great guidance, the keep our pack of about six or seven girls organized. The main pack is still ahead.

The first time up Haskins our little pack has broken apart. Coming down the descent I try to keep up with Kimmy. I don't want to lose her because if I do I am out alone for the remainder of the race. I struggle, she has killer bike handling skills. She's also super kind and I think she has slowed her pace to avoid dropping me. How did I get so lucky? Heading back into Pescadero, we pick up two other stragglers and form another pack, this time only four women. At some point we get a fifth. Kimmy keeps us organized and focused, we work on short pulls, pacelining, and resting. Kimmy reminds me to eat and drink. I have slober all over my face from the effort. 

Riding up 84 for the final time, the pack that had been chasing us, has caught us. Bobbi Jo Price {a friend on Team TibcoII} leads the pack, picks us up, and drives the pace. I'm amazed by her strength. I start to break and I'm not sure if I can hang on. Bobbi Jo and Kimmy encourage me, telling me to rest more, to skip my turn on the front. I feel so welcomed and blessed to be surrounded by these crazy awesome women. A gap begins to form between me and the pack, Bobbi Jo accelerates from behind me and tells to grab her wheel. She takes me back up to the pack. I am so grateful. 

By the time we hit Haskins, I've recovered enough to stay with them. The climbing wears on me and another gap opens. We all suffer together, and I hasten my pace to not let the gap grow. I don't want to finish alone. I don't want to be last. I really don't want to be dropped. I finish maybe 20 seconds behind them, incredibly happy.

As usual, I am so stoked to have finished this race. I really could not have without the help of my teammates Goose and Kimmy, and my friends like Bobbi Jo. Can't wait to do it again, it was so much fun.

:: race report: skyline

We are about to leave for our preride, it is Saturday. A woman rides up next to us. She is wearing a Fox jersey, rocking an older but still awesome Santa Cruz Blur XC. Obviously, she is also preriding. I open the conversation. She is pissed. She begins an embarrassing rant claiming the promoters should be more clear about the course. I'm confused, not many people race Skyline without knowing what they're getting into. I ask her if it was the heat {it is at least 90 degrees}. She scoffs, "The heat is the least of my concerns." Her rant restarts. She feels wronged by the difficulty of the course. I hear a familiar line, "This course is harder than Downieville." True story. She reveals that she works at Fox. I am shocked that her coworkers weren't more clear about the race course. She packs up her tent and goes home. I immediately thought about my friend, Alicia Halpern {a junior racer, in her first year of mountain biking}, who rode this course for the first time on a cheap hardtail with a Rock Shox Dart fork, without crashing or complaining.

Skyline is my favorite race course. It's no Fort Ord. Everyone will get off their bike at least once on this course. There is a claimed 1600' of climbing per 8ish mile lap. Sport racers do two, Expert/Pro do three. It is nearly all singletrack, going up and coming down. There are huge rocks, steep-decreasing radius switchbacks, roots, water-bars, and shear rock faces. It is the most technical race I have ridden. To give away the ending, I placed horribly but I don't care. Being able to finish this race in one piece is enough of an accomplishment, because even though it is the USA Cycling NorCal State Championship only one other person showed up for my category {in which I was last}.

Where I screwed up: 

1) Three weeks before the race, I was track standing in the parking lot and fell. I cut my leg open on my chainring, and couldn't do the preride because I needed stitches. My only other chance to preride was the day before the race. We spent two hours in the 90+ degree weather preriding--not exactly a good prerace strategy. 

2) I should have eaten more salt. There is a torn feeling in my legs today, exactly where the cramps happened while racing. I don't eat a lot of salt, but I really should. Looking back at my meals leading up to the race, my salt intake was far too low.

3) Starting position--it's all about starting position. I was in the second wave, which was huge. For some reason I wasn't feeling competitive and resigned to starting in the back of a gigantic pack. Stupid. 

What I'm happy about:

1) Ice in the camelbak--saved the day.

2) Made sure to eat and drink--this sounds easier than it is when on a technical trail.

3) Maintained f***ing composure--less than 45 min into the race I began having body chills, nausea, and feeling very faint. I was breathing way to hard for the effort. In full sun, 90+, I was shivering so bad my arms were shaking. This was a familiar feeling. It happened on the Downieville preride climb last year. Heat exhaustion, possibly heat stroke. I wanted to finish this race so badly. Never once did I want to give up. I told myself to maintain f***ing composure {thanks Kirt}. I knew that cooling my core temperature was the only way I could finish. There was ice in my camelbak. I kept drinking, feeling the cold water helped. I slowed down, slowed my breathing, relaxed, and concentrated on staying alert. I was teetering on disorientation which is very dangerous on that type of course. I knew that if I didn't keep it together I could easily go off the edge. Maintain f***ing composure.

So, nope I didn't place that well, my finishing time kinda sucked, but I'm terribly happy with my self. In fact, I have a sh** eating grin on my face right now. I'm stoked I finished. Stoked I didn't crash, not even once. Even more stoked that kept pushing till the end and finished feeling strong.

{Pictures to come}

:: garmin stuff - actual finish time was 2h20m, I forgot to hit stop.

:: cyclocross bike for sale: 2010 Giant TCX 1

For sale is my 2010 Giant TCX 1 cyclocross bike with a full SRAM Rival grouppo. Size 52 cm frame. I bought this bike in August of last year, raced it less than 10 times, and haven't ridden it since December. It was a tad too big for me, and I got a great deal on a different bike, so here I am, pawning off my old stuff ;p.

It has been tuned up, and has fresh handlebar tape. I made some changes to the original build, adding a Thomson Elite seatpost (the original kept slipping), a Selle Italia Gel saddle, and some stronger wheels. They are heavier than the originals but they have a higher spoke count and are beefier for better shredding.

Here you can see the original setup and geometry specs:

 http://www.giant-bicycles.com/en-US/bikes/model/tcx.1/3889/36631/

Asking $1000.

.: the miracle of life! :.

I can't get over this. Seven days ago I put a dried up, hard, and blandly colored bean in the ground. Today, a little plant emerged. The leaves formed impressions on the insides of the bean. You can tell that the leaves formed within that bean. Nerdy, yes. Cheesy, yes. I just can't help but geek out on the circle of life.

And completely unrelated, I found a neat looking bug today (it was dead). Anyone want to guess what it is? Two hints: It has six legs and wings (you can't see them, they lay flat against the bug).

-> banana bread, slugs, and skeggs

On the long sunshiny Wednesdays (about May through September) a ruffian crew of mountain bikers gather atop Skyline Blvd for a sufferfest ala Skeggs. While this tradition has been waging from many years, I've only been a handful of times. Now that school's out for summer, I have the time and energy to spare on this awesome adventure. The crew usually hangs out post-puke-inducing-ride for some tasty treats {note to self, puke and tasty should not be in the same sentance}. I contributed banana bread--oddly appropriate considering the ginormous banana slug we found at the picnic table.

I needed to drop off a textbook at school, Canada College, so I decided to make a ride out of it. I hopped on the mountain bike and spent two hours riding from home, to Canada College, up Kings Mountain, to Skeggs Lookout Point. Then we went for a mountain bike ride. See the geekery here::

Finally, it was time to devour the fruits of my labor. When it comes to recipes, I prefer the Frankenstein approach. I find one, and then alter the crap out of it to make it gluten free. Some key tips I've learned along the way: replace equal parts wet ingredients with dry ones, be careful when replacing binders, and baking soda ALWAYS needs a wet acidic ingredient to counteract its taste. This banana bread is most likely the healthiest out, and isn't the crazy sweet stuff one typically finds. This morning it made the perfect breakfast, toasted and lightly buttered. Overall, I'm happy with it, but want to work on the flavor to give it more pizzazz. You know how I feel about sparkle!

Hippy Healthy Banana Bread:

{or hhbb for short ;p }

Ingredients:

2 eggs, set whites aside for the very end

1/3 c + 1 tbsp sugar

1/3 c + 1 tbsp ground GF flaxseed

1 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp GF vanilla

1/2 tsp raw apple cider vinegar

1 c mashed ultra ripe bananas {when your bananas get too ripe, throw them in the fridge to save for later}

1/3 c special buttermilk {cover bottom of 1/3c cup with raw apple cider vinegar, fill the rest of cup up with 2% reduced fat milk, let sit five minutes}

1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 tsp xanthan gum

1 3/4 cup Bob's Red Mill GF all purpose baking flour

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 c chopped raw walnuts

_________________________________________________________________________________

The original recipe called for a lot more sugar. I'm veering on the healthy side so I replaced more than half the sugar with ground flaxseed. 

Mix egg yolks, sugar, and ground flaxseed in a large bowl with an electric mixer.

Then add buttermilk, oil, vanilla, raw apple cider vinegar, and smashed bananas. Don't overdo it, just combine them.

In a separate bowl, finely sift together dry ingredients: GF flour, xanthan gum, baking powder, baking soda, salt. This step is important because it reduces the chances of overworking the dough once dry and wet are combined.

Mix the dry into the wet ingredients. Add chopped walnuts simultaneously. This step is tricky. The mixture will be on the doughy side because the egg whites have not been added. Do not overwork the mixture. Just combine the two with a spatula. 

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Coat the inside of a 9"x5" pyrex dish {or equivalent volume} with butter. Yes, butter. It's not anywhere in the recipe, and it gives the crust a nice crispy texture, so just do. Indulge a little. 

Beat the egg whites until stiff peaks have formed. Very gently fold the whites into the batter until they're just combined. This step is crucial in good gluten free baking. It gives your baked goods that nice springy-fluffy-cake-like consistency that's usually lacking. 

Fill pan, smooth off top with spatula, and bake for about one hour or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Original recipe::

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Low-Fat-Banana-Bread-4331#ixzz0pp4QfhHf

.:too early for cyclocross?:.

Yes, it is early in the year for cyclocross workouts, but right now I have bike ADD and I need some excitement.

A five minute ride through winding residential streets gets me to Laurelwood Park--a big sparkly diamond in my life. This park is only convenient to the locals, has no thru streets, and has dirt trails leading to the top of Ralston Ave. From there, it's a five minute downhill shot to Waterdog or over the pedestrian bridge to Canada Rd. This is why we moved here.


It was my first time riding the new cross bike, Specialized Tricross Expert, and oh what a sweet ride it was. Coming back down on Ralston via dirt I forgot about the limitations of a cross bike, and rode like a mountain bike. I felt a significant difference between the tires as well. I was running Kenda Small Bloc 8's, this bike has a Specialized cross tire that looks similar but has way more grip. Even on the loose and gravel-y trails of summertime mid-penn parks, the tires locked up and never budged. Dropping down some small step-like roots the bike felt stable and comfortable. I guess those "Zertz" things really work. {Zertz are a proprietary elastomer plugged into the carbon seatstays and fork blades where they meet the crown; claimed to help vibration dampening.}

If only my mounts and dismounts could be as easy as the descending. Last year was my first time racing, and I hadn't mastered this task yet. Six months since the last cross ride and my skills have only gotten rustier--Titanic at the bottom of the ocean rusty. I'm so very happy no one was around to witness my fumblings, other than the group of 15 yr old boys, but they were probably stoned. I struggled remembering the complex steps, order of movements, and various body placements. Hands on the hoods, right leg back and over and through, right hand on the top tube. Then in one movement down and forward with me, up with the bike, and over the log. Praying that all the intricacies come together at just the right time, and that I don't land face on log.

Paule and Julie Bates teach a great cyclocross clinic, which I was fortunate enough to partake in last year. I tried my damnedest to remember their tips. My favorite is still "Showgirls"...you just had to be there. If anyone in the Bay Area has an interest in this, I'm sure you can get more info from the Roaring Mouse shop in SF.

I'd definitely lost my edge on cross-bike steep climbs. Picture right gave me hell.  I jumped into shouldering the bike, began running up the hill, took three steps and slowed to barely crawling. Molasses pumped through my veins; cottage cheese filled my lungs. Yep, that's a cross workout. Oh wait, add a little throw up in the back of my throat. Now, that's a cross workout.

Coming back down a mild dirt grade through Laurelwood park, I got the rush of a cross race all over again. That spectator friendly circuit, with competitors elbow to elbow the entire time. That sense of do or die, fight fight fight (in a friendly way of course). I got excited about riding my bike, about racing. That sensation breathed fresh air into my stale motivations to train.

Finally, on the way home about three blocks from house is another park. This one is much smaller, but cute nonetheless. It rests on a steep hill, and has a ton of Eucalyptus trees (see first picture above). Remind you of something? Think Coyote Pt. I save my front wheel from washing out at the last minute. That Eucalyptus bark is slippery. Luckily only one dog walker, and two uber cool high schoolers witnessed my shenanigans. I found a perfect loop for two flights of stairs, remount, steep downhill, back to the stairs.
Picture left.

So yes, a little early, but a much needed refreshment. Doing the same routines week after week doesn't keep me interested in training. I spent the first five months of the year training for mountain bike racing and I'm a little bored. Ballet helps me remember life outside of riding bikes, but cyclocross has helped me stay excited about living to ride.

:: garmin geekery ::

.:summer vacation:.

It has finally hit. Summer. I spent January through May of this year taking 18 units at Canada College. The semester marked my first successful term in college since 2005. The to do list has been piling up, and I'm finally tackling item after item.

So far this weekend Isaias and I have rented a dump truck, shoveled dirt, and planned a garden. I've also managed to hang bike racks, bake a tart for the first time, and started the garden. This period of working on the house may seem silly, but it's a first for me and I am excited. There's something incredibly fulfilling about housework. This is our first home together (just renting) and we're exhilarated to create a haven in this crazy busy life and world.

I've got a lot of posts coming; especially since I have time to bake again. This weekend I created two new delicious dishes: GF banana blueberry pancakes, and a GF-Casein free tart. Those recipes should be posted within a few days. They were quite the projects, but the results were well worth it...


Here's to the boring ole' domesticated life, and all its sweetness....

.:race report: shasta lemurian:.

This past weekend, I spent three days riding and racing at Whiskeytown Lake, a good four hours away from the mid-peninsula suburbs. The race left me beaten, bruised, and too sick for school but my spirits are high from an all-time best weekend. 

To us coastal dwellers, who are unfamiliar with the possibilities of true mountain ranges, Mount Shasta is a shocking site from the I-5. Driving north, towards Redding, coming over a gentle rolling hill, one’s eyes land on the bewildering presence of a true mountain peak on the horizon. Solitary against the faint blue sky, snow looms on the 14,000 foot high beauty miles ahead. Although this is not the location of the Shasta Lemurian Classic Mountain-Bike race, it is the source of its name. Local folklore tells of a secret city deep beneath Mount Shasta and its people, the Lemurians.  

This race has been held every year for 23 years now. It is hard to find hard documentation of the history of the race. I have found that it was originally held in 1987, in the French Gulch area of Shasta. Tragically, that area was devastated by a wild fire in 2004, with 26 families losing their homes.  After this horrible incident, the race organizers relocated the event to Whiskeytown Lake recreational area

My performance at this race wasn't very important to me. Getting to hang out with friends and ride bikes for three days was priority numero uno. Going into the race I reviewed my goals: 1) Have fun 2) Don't crash 3) Finish. There are three course options, 26, 20 and 8 miles. Last year I raced the 26 mile course as a beginner. This year I chose to take it easy on myself and do the 20 mile course, which is fairly typical for sport riders. Funnily enough, both courses do approximately the same amount of climbing (close to 4400'). The longer route just as an extra six miles of flattish single-track.

I have no regrets about doing the shorter course. Honestly, I felt like it was just as fun as the longer course. I remember smiling a lot during this race. It was most fun I'd had riding my bike in a long time. Lemurian has some of the hardest climbing I've ever ridden. There are long extended climbs with obnoxiously short but steep pitches that hit you when your down. Perhaps it was because of my relaxed, non-racing mentality that day, but I felt good, I felt great on all of them. Where most guys were pushing there bikes, I was the squeeky little voice saying "excuse me, rider back".

The downhill at Lemurian is interesting. The swoopy singletrack is often times in creek beds, where there are plenty of roots and rocks. Coming back to the starting area there are many crazy steep, rutted out (read: ground is falling out in a crack running parallel to the trail), loose chutes. Right around this time in my race, I was being passed by the pro/expert men. About every 30 sec, one of them would be heading screaming fast towards me, usually in one of these chutes. I resigned to letting them pass, and running my bike. Safer for them, safer for me. We did go back the next day, and I did get to ride all the tricky sections.

Two hours, 45 minutes later I was crossing the finish line. It was pretty cool to hear "first female" as I rode through aid stations. Even cooler was coming in 26th out of 70-something riders, mainly men. Winning overall female for the intermediate course is a big highlight for me this year. Especially since I went out there not thinking about racing, but of riding my bike and having fun.

Oh and the real highlight of the day: A guy had passed me on a downhill section right before a paved road, dam crossing (literal: riding a paved road along a dam to the next section of trail). Once we hit the pavement I passed him. He was a big guy too. As I pass he says "Is this where your roadie skills come in handy?" I didn't know such a "big man!" could be such a baby. I replied "I'm not roadie, I'm just not a downhiller."

.:Arizona Law has Racisct Roots:.

As many have heard, Arizona has passed a law allowing police officers to stop anyone they suspect to be an illegal immigrant and require citizenship documentation to be presented on the spot. If the person is unable to provide said papers, the officers now have the power to detain those stopped. Note, for those unfamiliar with how this works, police officers must typically have probable cause when stopping any person. For example, if you drink out of a paper bag while driving, they have the right to stop you. Now, any person can be walking down the street and all the officer has to say is "hey, they look like an illegal alien" and the officer can make the stop.

Although I do not look hispanic, I am. All of my mothers side is of both Texas-Mexican and New Mexico-Mexican ancestry. In all cases, they are native to the states of Texas and New Mexico, close to the border. As a result, any person could profile them as "Mexican". The thought of my family members being stopped on account of their appearances is a terrifying one. I truly do worry for those citizens of Arizona who are legal residents, for what will prevent police officers from unduly harassing them?

I refuse to get into a debate over immigration. I am not a politician and do not have sufficient information to make an educated statement about whether or not we should open up our borders. However, I do know that all humans deserve the right to exist in a world free of unprovoked harassment from law enforcement agencies. Every person in this world has a right to walk down the street without being asked for documentation to prove that they're allowed to be in that spot at that moment.

For those ignorant to the details of the Holocaust (that dark period when a bunch of white supremacists decided they were Gods chosen people and had the right to extinguish all other races), a favorite past-time of Nazi soldiers was the stopping of Jewish people and demanding papers (documentation of legal presence). Many innocent lives were lost at the hands of power-crazed soldiers. Giving officers this power implies they have access to perfect knowledge of what an "illegal alien" looks like. Such an implication defies the very logic used when drafting the Constitution and developing the concept of "innocent till proven guilty".

Much of our Civil Rights movement has been aimed at the prevention of similar situations. Unfortunately, it seems that a new era of neo-Nazism has managed to dupe an entire state. Those who have supported this bill are either ignorant to its racists origins or do not care. This marks a tremendously sad backwards stumbling in the human rights movement. Our apathy, as a nation, has superseded any inclination to protect the most basic of liberties of which all peoples deserve. It is time that we take our heads out of the superficial glam-rock American Idolizing celebrity obsessed distractions, and start paying attention to the great injustices occurring under our very noses.

This video is from Rachel Maddow  and has documented the neo-Nazi origins of the Arizona bill. Please share this video with everyone you know.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Race Report: Sea Otter: A Lesson in Disappointment

Losing is an inevitable part of competition. Understanding our athletic failures--as they may be called by some--gives us a broader perspective of racing. Poor performance creates broad ranges of emotion. Race reports help athletes recover from said experiences. Writing provides therapy for a broken spirit. Poor performance can mean a lot of things, since its not just about winning the race. A good performance just means the athlete raced to their ability.

Sea Otter (SOC) began five months ago for me. Doing well at Sea Otter means earning a spot at MTB Nationals in Granby, Colorado. I started training promptly after the last Pilarcitos race, in mid-December. After wins at Boggs and NVDC, I felt hope for victory at SOC.

Everything went great on race day. From food, to warm up, to how my legs felt, all signs pointed to victory. I even had a great start. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself and never recovered. Climbing was horrible. I felt weak and unable to turn over the pedals. For the first ten miles I was determined to keep trying. Every time I punched the gas, the engine sputtered and coughed refusing to turn over. At mile ten I let off, sat up a little and resigned to enjoying the rest of my mountain bike ride. I just didn’t have it.

A terrible sadness started seeping into my mind, and honestly I just wanted to sit on the side of the trail and start crying. Sports-(wo)manship prevented me from stopping. Being a good sports-woman means applauding the winners and all those that placed before you. Someone has to be last in a race, and on this day it seemed like my turn to take the place. I wondered if I had not done Boggs, would my results been better today? No. I would never give up my victory with my teammate at Boggs. I wouldn’t sacrifice Boggs for Sea Otter.

The mental battles we face on the trail and how they mirror our daily lives has been a motivator for me to continue racing. On the bike, we face our own demons. When our race doesn’t pan out the way we planned, its easy to throw a tantrum (I’ve seen many grown men and women do just that, I’ve done it). Anger, disappointment and blame are all easy outs. The challenge changes from winning to fighting these demons. The struggle goes beyond the sadness associated with so-called failure. 

I believe that its normal and acceptable to feel sad and disappointed poor results at an important race--just as winning is not normal. Extraordinary means overcoming our disappointment and moving on to the next challenge. We take what can be learned, apply it, try again, and never allow this one performance to crack the belief we hold in ourselves. 

Again, overcoming so-called failure isn’t the status quo, its not the expected, its the extraordinary. I believe that when THEY say “have the heart of a champion” THEY are saying the athlete strives for the extraordinary even in failure. I have walked away from Sea Otter with an understanding that even though I failed, I can still strive for excellence through my ability to cope with disappointment. That is what I have learned from the Church of Bike.

Garmin Geekery:

Race Report: Napa Valley Dirt Classic, aka "Lake Hell"

Driving home from Napa Valley Dirt Classic, Isaias looked at me and asked “What part of the race really broke your spirits”. Looking at me, he saw the anguish in my face, rather fatigue mixed with sadness. “The cold.” I replied. Boggs may have technically been colder, but the rain made me feel awful. There was no time during my race where I felt warm. Mentally, NVDC was the hardest race I’ve been through. I rarely doubt my ability to finish a race.

I’m happy with all the small steps I made before and during the race. I checked the forecast, brought all of my rain gear, and mentally prepared to race in the rain. Before the start, I pre-rode the start and the finish twice (knowing the terrain would be drastically different from last year due to the rain). My warm-up had nothing to do with physical temperature--I just wanted to test my legs and my sprint for the start. NVDC starts on a hill at least a football field long. There is a single gate leading to the single track, maybe five feet wide. Hole shot.

The whistle blew and I jumped. Reaching the top of the hill, my body seized up like an engine short of oil. My muscles were fighting me, begging to go and sit in the car. I punched the thought away, and didn’t see my competitors again. At one point in the race I heard a female voice. It was a sign of closeness, and I began a series of accelerations. Technically my race went very well. I downhill ran parts that were landslides, and climbed a few tricky sections. As for the hike-a-bike, well I had to walk it.  There was no traction, as the ground was trickling away in many areas. 

Luckily, on the hike-a-bike, I came across a racer who had a prosthetic left foot. He was like a godsend, a magnificent inspiration. Moments like that are few in life. His perseverance shook me out of my frost coma. I had to remember myself to focus. When  freezing, wet, fatigue sets into the mind it’s easy to forget about racing your bike. Mentally I forced the “winning” logic. I didn’t want to just finish, I wanted to win. It took all my will power to push to the end. Sure I could have just spun an easy gear to make it back, but that’s not good enough.

Records say they sky dropped 1.37 in of rain on Sunday at the race. That doesn’t seem like much, but it’s almost twice the amount dropped on the peninsula the same day. I believe it was in the mid-40’s for most of the race. The race course was a lake in any flat section, and a stream on any up or downhill portion. Post-race, there were hot showers in the gymnasium, but I had to take my muddy shoes off. Leaning over to unbuckle them, my hands were shaking too hard to function. A kind soul offered to help me remove the shoes.

One car-seat warmer, steak, mashed potatoes, mocha latte, and two cups of tea later I finally felt human again. Finally I was excited about my results, and ever so thankful to make it to the finish line. I did finish the race, and I did win. 

*NOTE* If you look at the Garmin Geekery, at the start my HR wouldn't really go over 170- I think that's because of the cold. Kinda neat, if your a geek ;p

Garmin Geekery:

*Oh yeah* Here's a picture from last year:

Look at that sunny sky!

Snowy Race Report: Boggs! the 5th

Can we take a moment to appreciate Bike Monkey? Who do I idolize in local MTB culture? Bike Monkey. Who do I want to be like when I grow up? Carlos Perez. The Wednesday before Boggs V, the Bike Monkey crew was out in the snow, see pictures here http://boggs.bikemonkey.net/, and camped at the grounds for the freezing days leading up the event. They braved icicles and rainstorms to put on this race. In times where MTB classics are a dying breed, this team of relentless promoters are growing our sport with top notch, high quality events. So thank you Bike Monkey. Without you, we’d be stuck doing short laps on a fire-road in a suburban park. 

Take everything you may hate about mtb races and now think of the exact opposite and you’ll get Boggs V. The course was perfectly marked. Timing was done with excellent accuracy and few to none errors. Awards ceremony was done within an hour of the last racer crossing the finish line. The medals were beautifully crafted, a true reward for an entry fee. All around it was easy to see where the registration fees went--they went into making a well-oiled race machine that everyone benefited from. Oh and did I mention the delicious omnivorous, GF and vegan friendly FREE meal to all racers?

My very kind, and mucho talented teammate Jen Jordan agreed to a two-woman race with me. I won’t lie, I wanted to win Boggs V from the minute I saw the medals on the Bike Monkey website (see pictures). Most of my friends have heard my ramblings about being competitive. I like racing. I like going out and throwing down everything I have in me, even when I come in dead last. JJ willingly matched and surpassed my efforts, beating my lap times by about 3 minutes, thankfully. I knew this course would suit her abilities, and it did.

Of course it was a hard race. The mud was unpredictable, sometimes slippery, sometimes tacky. There were big snow patches on the ground. I wanted to win so badly, that it helped me stay positive throughout the race. I believed in us. I knew that we could make it happen. I just had to keep making circles. Starting the last lap a little girl stood on the side of the trail shouting “Never give up!”. Cresting the last big climb, and flying down the last fire-road I let out a victory yell. 

I pushed it hard in the last hundred meters. I head people cheering. They might have been cheering for someone else, but I felt them cheering for me. I can’t describe the happiness that overcame me. Their cheers were the greatest reward for a hard lap. Jen and I had done it; we had won. 

I am so grateful for her. I don’t really know how to describe it, so I’ll just say: 

Thank you Jen. Thank you for working with me.

Garmin Geekery: