Before and After

My nephew's name is Dylan, and I can't help but call him Bob Dylan Thomas. Before and After - get it? Very funny. My sister does not like it at all.

Anyway. Here are some before and after photos of me this week. Nothing to do with riding, really, except that the more salt I dump into my hair, the dryer it gets.
































It looked like a small dog had fallen on the floor when she was done.

You're HOW old??

Email conversation between M (fellow rider) and me:

M: blah blah blah . . . We fly to Anchorage on 7/7 and our first full day is 7/9 (my 50th b-day… holds some symbolism, I figure).

Me: You are NOT going to be 50.

M: *kiss kiss*

Me: blah blah blah . . . I don't think I've spent much time thinking about your age, but I wouldn't have put you a day over 39 or so. Really. Them's good genes and a healthy life you've got there!

M: blah blah blah . . .We all better age gracefully the way we’re working out!! I’ll take a guess that you’re the one around 40. Close?

M (a few minutes later):

OH MY GOSH, YOU’RE 30!!! After I sent the email I got scared and looked you up. YIKES! NO OFFENSE MEANT, HEATHER!!! It’s just that I can relate to you so easily and you’re a lawyer and spin instructor and all that spells MATURE!!!!! (am I back pedaling out of this alright??)

Heather, truly, I hope I didn’t offend you. Yikes…

Me (apparently too many minutes later): I just laughed out loud! I'm sure the guy in the office next to mine thinks I'm nuts!

I guess I should give thanks for my maturity, and invest in some good sunscreen!

No offense taken -- but I'm still laughing.

Me (a few minutes later): And don't think I'm not going to tell that story of age-guessing over and over!! :)

M: Now you’ve got me laughing out loud.

I’ve been sitting here sweating waiting for your response. Would’ve already reached for my cell phone if I hadn’t left the damn thing at home.

My husband’s going to say something like “you haven’t learned you NEVER guess someone’s age”???

Me: I'm reminded of the man who hit on me one night and first asked my age (a certain no-no in the come-on world, I'd say) and then guessed it -- and he added about 10 years or so. I told him that for future reference, always guess low when trying to pick up a woman.

*****

Maybe I should take a little offense, but I do still get carded occasionally. . .

Where a man can walk a mile high

Every Friday afternoon at 5 p.m., a radio station in Colorado Springs would play the "Colorado" song.* It's been getting stuck in my head a lot as I ride, but I replace the lyrics with "If I had a bicycle, I would bike to the place where a man can walk a mile high. . ." [please note that when I say "high" in this context, I do not intend to call up any reference to illicit drugs. Nor do I think that the Colorado song is in the category of "rock and roll."]

In every mile there are 5280 feet. Yesterday, the Wildflower Century had 4,300 feet of climbing. If we had just been climbing straight up, we would have climbed over 80% of a mile. It wasn't all straight up, but parts of it felt like it was. Hilly Humboldt Road Hilly Honey Run, and Hilly Table Mountain. When I pictured Table Mountain, I imagined a table top - up on both sides, and flat on the top. Here, for example, is my dining room table (it's pretty, huh?):















But, no -- when they say "table" this is what they mean:



















Here's a photo of the hill -- see how little those bikes are? It's because they're 80% of a mile into the air.
















Weather report for Chico, CA -Sunday April 27, 2008:
High: 91 degrees
Feels like: 127 degrees.

There are a few more things to say about the ride --

• my bike wasn't working on the first hill. Emily helped me with that. She (the bike, not Emily) is going to the bike shop tomorrow. A bike that wants to stay in high gears while climbing big hills is not a bike that helps my sour mood.
  
• I finally found an 18 mph stride and suddenly a man appeared with a hand-held stop sign. I looked for children crossing or maybe some sort of rural emergency (something important enough to makes us stop in the middle of nowhere). Apparently it was a little of both:

• Emily has a freezing cold pool that we sat in after the ride. It was thinking about this pool that made me continue to pedal the last 10 miserable miles.
• I've heard so much about the food on this ride, and it was not that great - or not that great for cycling -- I probably would have liked to sit around and drink water (sometimes they ran out), and eat pastries in another setting. But while cycling a gagillion miles, I want salty foods, high-energy foods, some protein if possible, and lots of cold water -- and, okay some gatorade or recharge or something, even though I think they taste like sugary chalk.
• Emily made some dinner after the ride (and after the pool) called "Heather-safe pad thai." Not to be confused with "Anaphylactic pad thai" (the kind that has peanuts).
• There are some really patronizing tandem-riders out there. One would think they have better things to do than to teach me how to ride up a hill when I'm in a bad mood. This photo accomplishes two things: 1) a photo of the bathrooms (I don't know why I always take photos of the bathrooms) and 2) a photo of one of the tandem bikes, but, at least to my knowledge, this one did not have patronizing riders.

As of this coming Thursday, only TWO weeks to the big ride! Not be confused with this piddly century this weekend with 4300 feet of climbing.

---

*Colorado
Up With People (ca. 1960)
[highly edited lyrics]
If I had a wagon, I would go to Colorado,
Go to Colorado,
If I had a wagon, I would.....
If I had a wagon, I would go to the state,
Where a man can walk a mile high.

If I had a Chevy, I would drive to Colorado
Drive to Colorado,
If I had a Chevy, I would.....
If I had a Chevy, I would drive to the state,
Where a man can walk a mile high.

If I had an Airplane, I would fly to Colorado
Fly to Colorado,
If I had a Airplane, I would.....
If I had a Airplane, I would fly to the state,
Where a man can walk a mile high.

If I had an Spaceship, I would land in Colorado
Land in Colorado,
If I had a Spaceship, I would.....
If I had a Spaceship, I would land in the state,
Where a man can walk a mile high.

Refrain:
Well I don't have a wagon
And I don't have a Chevy
And I don't have an Airplane
And I'll never have a Spaceship
But I've got two feet to climb with and it's
Pikes Peak or Bust
Where Americans can learn again just like
Colorado men how to hold you head up high…….
Where a man can walk a mile high…………..

Veggie and glass Enchiladas, coming right up.

A quick side trip after Sunday's ride brought me to a small house outside of Ft. Bragg, CA, the gem of the mendocino coast. 4 friends for one night with wine, and good food, and not one bite of food had chards of glass in it.
You see the problem:



Who knew a pyrex dish would shatter in the right circumstances?




Overall, though, a great night.
Some music, some pups, and a little hot tubbing after a long weekend of riding.






The road home probably would have been a lot more enjoyable if I hadn't been close to hurling for the majority of the 4-hour trip.

The Verdict is In: Final Benchmark Ride

The final Benchmark Ride was this past weekend. We first rode 100 miles on Saturday, and then got up earrrrrly on Sunday to ride our 45 miles of hills, the same ride that we did in February and March. The ride with "three" hills. I think "three" is some fancy clycing language for "lots." Everything went along quite well until we started going up a hill that I thought was a minor hill, because we hadn't turned onto the street with the biggest hill, but then it just kept going, and it just kept getting steeper. The more I thought about the biggest hill that was still coming, and how I couldn't really get my head into climbing this "minor" hill, the harder I was breathing. I started to panic a little. Hyperventilated a lot. When I got to the 'top' of the first part, which is the bottom of the second part, I stopped tried to stand on my shaky legs and control my breathing again.
It was odd to be so out of control, especially during pretty arduous physical activity where I had just a few moments before been in control of myself. I took a minute there to reset the circuits and then hopped back in the saddle to take the next hill. That little breakdown was oddly cathartic. The rest of the day went well, and from the first time we rode this loop in February to this past Sunday, I took 10 minutes off my riding time. Pretty cool. Add to that feeling stronger and better on the bike, and you have a great success.
The point of the Benchmark rides are to see how we'll do on the big Ride in May. I think we're all going to make it.
Hard to take photos on these sorts of rides, but maybe next week in Chico.

Why not follow that weekend up with something better? Or if not better, than at least bigger. Here's the elevation profile for the Chico Velo Wildflower Century:


That's 4300 feet of climbing.

Three words: Bring it on.

Biking AROUND the Buttes, not OVER the Buttes

This past weekend, a small crew of us drove up to Yuba city at 5 o'clock (or so) in the morning to ride 100 miles around the Sutter Buttes. The ride is called Bike Around the Buttes, and some of you might remember that I did the same ride last year. Well. . . I signed up to do it. I drove up to Yuba City. I even got on my bike and started riding. After about 19 miles, I was just plumb fed up with wind, the 20 degree temp, and the pouring rain. Those might be exaggerations, but it's no exaggeration that I had rain pouring out of my shoes, and decided I am not *that* kind of cyclist.

So -- this year, clear skies, cold, no rain, and wind not predicted until after noon. It's mostly a flat ride. Rather pretty, but quite flat. Most of the day the Buttes were in view, which is good, because we really never got tired of the "Butt"/"Butte" jokes. And when they were in view, we were that much more inspired.
And off we go. 100 miles is a really long way. I captured a bit of the day on camera. I'll try to explain what the mostly obscure photos mean.

Here's the morning bathroom line. Jeff, my carpool buddy, and over-all good guy, seemed to spend most of the day in line for the bathroom.














Emily got a new jersey -- all those polka dots are types of sushi.


















Self Protrait.
















There wasn't a whole lot of food I could eat at the rest stops/lunch. Lots of processed meat and cheese, as demonstrated below, and it seems someone had entered the race into a 'how many snacks can you make with peanuts?' contest.











I don't know what's going on here, but it seems like processed cheese makes you happy.

Jeff is not allowed to work on his own bike. Parts fall off when he does. But I loaned him my tool anyway.

A view of (one of) the Buttes (this one is small after several years of doing at-home Buttes of Steel):
Another butte or two:
I can't quite recapture this monologue, but the cows hanging out on the hills eating, or laying in the shade under a tree inspired the philosopher (or maybe the bovine-psychologist) in Jeff. "Do you ever wonder what makes some cows wonder up there on the hill to eat grass, while others just lay around and don't go anywhere? What makes a cow decide to just walk a couple miles away from the rest of the cows for its grass? And look at those cows just layin' there. Maybe those are the lazy cows, and the other cows are more ambitious. Don't you think? Makes you think maybe cows have personalities."
Priceless.

The best snack ever -- it doesn't look like much, but here you have boiled potatoes, salted, with some fancy herb in them. Amazing. It was the best potato I'd ever had, or maybe I was a little hungry.
I know. They're just potatoes.

The end of the ride. Here's a happy rider finishing her first century and biking her Butte off.
















Comparison between this year and last year -- this is at the car getting ready to go home. On the left, rainy last year. On the right, happy (but tired) this year.

Notes on the home front

A few comments about life in GHH (my house). It's spring around these parts -- I can tell because I'm sneezing all the time, and taking more drugs than I'd like. Also -- the lotus flowers are blooming in the pond.

And the sweetest kitty found his little place in the sun












while I was cooking up some veggies in curry










It's a good time of year (except for the sneezing).

A few things, and some stuff, and some training.

Last week, I was riding home from work, and my fixie got a flat.

It was a bummer, but I didn't have far to go, so I just hiked it home. I thought it was some glass I ran over (after a mean truck cut me off), but turns out the tube split. Must have been because of my awesome tube-splitting riding. But she's back to new now, thanks to the nice folks at Bicycle Chef (I'd give a link, but their website got hacked and now it goes to some Turkish terrorists or something). It was good to visit the bike chef -- they reminded me I need to bring in my road bike to get a little tweak before the ride (a month from today!).

This weekend's ride was great fun - I taught spinning the morning, which made me late for the ride, so I had to ride fast and hard to try to catch them. It was basically the same ride I did a few weeks back on my own, which, if you remember, was one hill after another.

Sort of looks like I was there on wrong day. Darn.

So -- starting about 40 minutes after the group, looking at a big mountain in front of me, and deciding that what the hey?, I can do it.
Ha. The road between me and them just kept going up. My cue sheet said it was only going to be about 16 miles of that, but 16 miles of going up and up and up some more is like 50 regular miles. Good news, though. I caught up with them and found a bunch of relaxed, resting riders finishing up what looked like a nice, long break.
There was Mark with a flower in his hair:






and Jeff riding his banana seat bike:

As soon as I got there, they were ready to go, so back on the bike I went, ready for the next 30 miles or so. More hills. More countrysides, more baby goats.

Next weekend, a century (100 miles), and 45 miles of hills -- the last Benchmark ride!

Good News and Bad News

First the bad news: I got knocked out of the top five of the fundraisers this week after being first number one, and then for the last 3 months or so, number two: check it out.
(Pst: if you know anyone who wants to support an excellent cause, and an amazing group of folks doing good work, please pass it on!)

Now, the good news -- as a group, this year we have raised almost SIXTY THOUSAND dollars for local AIDS organizations. Imagine how many lives we're changing. The total scrolls here. Maybe by the time you read this, it will be way over $60k. We're pretty cool.

Here's a group of us after those crazy Napa hills (and yeah, I know I look a little drunk. I wasn't -- I'm much funnier when I'm drunk. And so are you.)


**UPDATE 4/9: this afternoon we passed the $60k mark!**

The warm California sun

My sister and her daughter visited our grandparents in L.A. and picked 13lbs of oranges and sent them to me. A great package to receive (thanks!) -- but what do I do with all these oranges?

Back to back

This weekend I did back-to-back rides. The first, an 86.76 mile ride from my house out to Lake Berryessa. The second, a 50 mile ride through the rolling hills in the Sierra foothills, plus one gigantic hill in Folsom, CA. I'll do the math for you -- that's 136.76 miles.
I forgot my camera today, so I don't have the excessive photo-documentation.
Just this one (notice the woolly sheep in the background -- we wondered whether the kids can also sheer and loom):
The ride was lovely -- a rolling 36.5 miles. A little slower than I'd hoped for, but I agreed to help out the ride leader by riding 'sweep.' So I hung with the folks in the back and sang songs to stay busy. It was an interesting exercise -- I spent some time focusing on my pedal strokes, my posture, and my cadence.

Before we did our last five miles, we turned off to tackle a gigantic hill. About 4 miles into the hill, we could see the 'top' -- if we lifted our heads, pushed back our helmets, and squinted real hard. The traffic lanes opened up to allow for passing. You know why they do that? So cars have lots of room to pass the slow vehicles on hills. You know it's steep when it opens up to three lanes.

I yelled on that hill. Loud. More like a scream, actually. I made to the top with weak legs, and a hoarse voice. Then we turned around to remember the deals we make with hills: I'll climb this hill if you give me a smooth, fast downhill. It's a good deal. My max speed was [close your eyes, Mom) 42.1 mph. Yikes.

I think it's time for bed.

The long and windy road*

Emphasis here would be on long. Today I left my house at about quarter to 9 (I had intended to leave at 8, but got distracted with the garden), on my bike and headed out toward Davis. It was chilly (41 degrees when I got up, but all the way up to 48 by the time I left), and felt early, and I was still knocking the sleep out of my head as I rode down Southport Rd.
I started in









and then I went through









on my way to









And then I turned around and went home.

A little less than 7 miles from my house is the never-fun causeway.

It's about 5 miles of a bikepath that parallels I-80. It's the only direct way to get from West Sacramento or Sacramento to Davis. Consequently it's a fairly common commute-route. It's always wind, loud because of the traffic, and it seems to go on forever.

But then it ends, and marks the point when I'm 'almost' somewhere. This morning, I was almost to Davis. This afternoon, I was almost home.

I stopped in Davis for a few minutes at Starbucks. Well -- I thought it was going to be a few minutes, but then I started listening-in on a conversation happening at the table across the way. They were two very religious people who had some sort of an issue between them. I didn't quite catch what the issue was, but I spent about a half-hour out of Davis thinking about it, and I came up with some theories. Okay -- it was more than 1/2 hour. Actually, I'm still thinking about it.

Long country road out of Davis, and then into more country roads in Winters. And then the hills.

These are the hills we did last weekend, when I rode with the group. Big giant hills -- one of which is called "Cardiac Hill." Ominous, no? I'm still fairly slow on the hills, but I just found a good pace and kept at it. When I did it with the group I had a cue sheet telling me where to go and how long the hills were. This time, I just had to keep going until it seemed like there was more down than up ahead of me. Luckily -- there are helpful little signs along the way.

Here's how you know you made it to the top:









When I got to the top, I turned around and came back down -- kind of a scary, twisty, bumpy ride. The view at the top of Cardiac isn't all that great -- so I pulled over once the lake was back in view. Not the greatest picture, but quite accomplished.

And then: back to the flat rode. More country roads, some cows, horses, and lots and lots of motorcycles. I've never really thought before about the native habitat of a peacock. Where do they live? It doesn't seem to me that farmland in Winters, CA would be a peacock's native habitat. But I heard them "meowling" (sounds like the cross between a meow and a howl), and caught a few glimpses of them.


And finally -- this sign, which I found while pulled over to eat my lara bar and fuel up for the hills:









made me wonder how thin the line is between "resting" and "loitering." I suppose the difference is that resting has a purpose and a potential end, while "loitering" is much more aimless. I think I'll make it a point to start loitering more. Hmmm. That's not aimless.

Back to the flat roads, back to the causeway, back to fighting the wind. And suddenly we were back home getting ready for Sunday's ride.
A long and windy day.


*I don't know why both windy (curvy) and windy (blustery) are spelled the same. In this case, however, it seems to be fitting as the road was both windy and windy, and occasionally simultaneously so.

I have the sweetest kitty

Perhaps a little off topic -- Dozo has taken to cuddling up on my pillow in the mornings and curling up against my head. I don't know if you can tell, but he's pressing his little head against mine. I grabbed my cell phone to try to capture how this must look.