Oh Beautiful . . .

This year, I did America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride -- the 72-mile loop around Lake Tahoe -- by myself. A mere two weeks after the NCAC made riding alone that much more poignant. Granted, riding alone with 3,000 other people is not the same as taking a spin down the river road and not seeing another person for 30 miles, but still . . .

This is the second 'big' ride I've done [alone] this year. The most noticeable difference is that I can get in and out of rest stops a lot faster when I'm alone. Especially when they are full of food in which I have no interest. This particular ride tends to stock fig newtons at the rest stops. I would eat a hundred of those, but for the sugar and gluten.

My blurry attempt to capture the gorgeous sunrise on my way to Tahoe. I got up at 4:30 to get there in time to start the ride. Makes for a rough beginning.

Starting off -- the first 1/2 mile or so -- this is not a great photo, but check out all that snow!

One of my first views of the lake (once I got out of town). Breath-taking.

More.

Top of the Emerald Bay climb. Ouch. I decided to get off my bike and take a breath . . . and a photo. They call the top "Inspiration Point." Most folks looked like they were inspired to throw their bikes in the lake.

Semi-random photo of a tree with a number-tag. I don't know why.

Lake and snow at lunch. It was such a warm day (much warmer than last year).

Folks were getting all the rental toys ready for water play.

A while after leaving lunch. It's a shame that the photos can't quite capture it. I need a camera like my brother's that could pick up the detail on a flea's butt. Check out that green, clear water in the foreground.

Smiling as I go. Mostly because there was nothing else to do.

Except pose for my own photos.

As the Spooner Junction climb (ouch) levels out, it opens up into these amazing fields. Gorgeous. There have been lots of thunderstorms in the last month. It's probably even greener.

And I made it! There was nothing I could eat for lunch, so I just changed my clothes and headed back down the hill. A little anti-climatic.

Except for my self-congratulations, that is.

Jule 6, 2010.

Why just workout when you can Workout "X" Style?

I hopped off the early-90's workout VHS tape wagon. Kind of early in the journey, actually. Winter has been a drudgery of wanting to workout more, but just not doing it. Then I slapped myself around a little, hopped on my bike some, and got with the program. After that, I wanted a little variety and motivation -- seems I am good at being everyone else's motivation, but not so much my own.

So where to turn?

Well, to Tony Horton of course! So I started doing P90X and where I thought I had NO free time before, now I have 60-90 minutes less each day, as I'm giving it over to Tony the Trainer. Why the heck not? So the riddle becomes: how do you fit 90 days of scheduled workouts together with training for a 4-day bike ride?

No, I don't have an answer. That's why I called it a riddle. So far, I just keep plugging along and we'll see what happens. Maybe when the bike rides get more intense, I will have to re-think.

Pretty darn fun though. So far. And it's good to do a workout where the only person I have to worry about is myself. And maybe one day I'll finally be able to do a pull-up.

Next time you see me, my veins will be popping out of my biceps, just like Tony's.

Bring it.

Yule Tide

I spent Christmas eve with lovely friends in San Francisco who live about two blocks off the coast. Instead of making the turn to their house, I drove down the coast a bit. A gorgeous day. Warmer, it seemed, than Sacramento had been.
A photo from the moving car:

Then we walked two gigantic dogs and saw lots and lots of people walking and playing in Golden Gate park. I was excited to see so many people out and about.
Linus got a collar from his Grandma -- here he is opening it.

And wearing it. It's a "White Collar" with lots of stitched-on symbols of white collarness. His brother Murphy got a blue collar. I guess it's just that kind of family.
Griz hit the 'nog a little hard.
Didn't get many pictures of people, did I? Even so, the people were warm and inviting and we made lots and lots of good food and drank good wine and had a fine time. We even converted some Jews. Not really. But they did come, and came bearing gifts (of a wreath shaped like a Candy Cane, which they thought was very Christmassy).

Then I drove down to the great Southern California to reach things on high shelves and dust chandeliers, while I wasn't drinking coffee and participating in completely crossword puzzles, that is.
Each of my grandparents got a Snuggie for Christmas.
Gramps did not want to pose for his picture because he couldn't find his chair-remote or tv-remote, and the world stops until those two are accomplished.
People who look like their pets. This is my Uncle curled up on the floor with his dog Buddy. I guess they do this a lot.
One of my most favorite scenes while driving in LA -- that red tower just right of center lets you know you've reached Magic Mountain. And there's not much more fun to be had than that.
And here we are driving home after a quick weekend trip. It's not as apparent as I thought it would be, but the southbound traffic was abominable. Smooth-sailing going North, thank goodness.

And just like that, I was home again. One holiday behind me. Let the birthday countdown begin!

Drink n' ride; Ride n' drink

The thing about Northern California is that it's November, and we still have organized rides going on. And it was 78 the afternoon of this ride. There might be a thing or two more about Northern California, but I sure was digging watching the sun come up on my drive to Lodi, CA for the Giro D' Vino ride. This ride is a strange beast. There are two lengths: 100k and 50k. Along the route, there are about 4 stops at wineries where riders can taste for free by flashing their fancy pink rideclet (that's my made-up word for the dumb bracelet you get at the rides). Turns out, tasting is more or less free in Lodi, so it was a false draw.

Good morning little smart car!


Well, look what we have here. The bathrooms! Better line up, 60 miles is a long way.
Woodbridge/Mondavi winery -- a cute little ornate something-or-other. I didn't have a ride buddy, so I just headed out on my own around 8:15. This made for an interesting ride. A lot of folks just hung around for a while and the official start was something like 'not later than 9 a.m.' I haven't spent a lot of time at the front of the pack in these rides -- you can imagine who's up there. I'll just tell you: it's the fast people. Lots of men and a few women. I was pretty happy with my speed for the first 50 miles or so, and had fun chasing down some packs of riders, drafting off them, and then hanging back a bit.
Then came the winery stops -- so basically, you ride really hard for 10-15 miles, and then stop at a winery. OR, you don't stop, keep riding, and go chase down other people, all the while comfortably singing out loud because there's no one around.

Except this guy.
This guy rode behind me for lots of miles. He'd speed up, sit about 20 feet behind my wheel, and then drop back. I didn't see him at lunch, but saw him at the last rest stop where he told me to prepare for a big hill. I told him I'd been preparing all my life, baby. No, I didn't really say that. Here he is passing me around mile 55. Why did he pass me? I'll tell you later.

Starting off, with a lovely view of the vino bushes. And some electrical wires, apparently. If I weren't so lazy, I'd edit my photos. Quite a lovely day though.
Meanwhile, at the head of the pack. . . there's no obvious way to get to the first rest stop, so I didn't stop there, kept going. Met a really nice guy who also wasn't on board with the wine & bike combo who had fabulous tattoos and a gigantic iPod (I just have a teeny tiny shuffle).
A couple of guys on fixed gears. I hung out with them a bit when I got to the rest stop. I had to sit a couple of chairs away to make room for their egos.
One of the winery stops. Not a great picture, but there's flags. And a sign or two. I passed by this flag/wine stop; lord knows I'm no stranger to ignoring flags. Especially red ones.
This guy got dropped by his buddy. He made a great show of passing me, but then slowed down so he could eat his almonds. I wasn't sure how big of a breach of etiquette it would be to pass him right back as he looks all sponsored and whatnot. But then, when I was about to run out of water and was ready for some grub, I saw the lunch stop, so I figured I'd just follow him in.
Can you see this? I'll just tell you what it is: a nearly useless lunch spread. I did one ride where the food was amazing, but I can't remember which ride? The rained-out Santa Rosa ride maybe (and NCAC of course -- you should have seen the vegetarian/vegan/gluten free spread!). Anyway. What you see here is lunch after 30 miles of no rest stops. Lots of water (not pictured), great. Apples and bananas, great. And lots and lots of sandwiches. ("I believe that all anyone really wants in this life is to sit in peace and eat a sandwich.") Turkey and Ham and Peanut Butter sandwiches. It was like riding in the Butte, land of mayonnaise and processed cheese.
Then I sat and listened to people talk about how fast they were riding, ask everyone around them how fast they were riding, and chat with the guys on fixies about how they over-rode the route because they missed a turn, and they kept saying they'd "already gone 35 miles" and it was going to be such a long day, etc etc. Now again, I really wanted to interject, but there's something about the male ego that just makes me quietly judge, rather than vocally correct. The rest of us had gone about 31 miles, so their boast/complaint about adding miles rang a little hollow in my already-suffering-from-low-blood-sugar-ears.
Oh, and one of these guys said a couple of times how did didn't need to carry water with him and his body "really stores carbs." No water + "really storing carbs" = looking faint after 35 miles, I guess. After that he said, "That's whats so good about me."

Yeah.

So I ate about 8 apple slices and set off again for the back half -- the hilly half, I'd heard.

This photo I took immediately after a car had passed. Why the heck this rider is in the middle of a road that is not blocked off to traffic, I do not know.

Oh, so I said I'd tell you why that American flag guy was passing me toward the end after he'd been trailing me all day. It's onaccounta my bad genes. My back completely gave out around 50 miles and the last 14 miles or so were a combination of cursing and counting off every tenth of a mile. Apparently either my bike fit is off or the running is ruining my back, because cycling doesn't typically hurt so much. Rather, doesn't typically hurt SO much. That's what I meant.
Stupid running. Stupid back.

Couldn't decide what picture to upload. Typical post-ride self-portrait.
Or the big thumbs up.
I think if I keep working out, I could build up my ego so big that when I flex it, I could knock those boys off their bikes.

Happy November, y'all.

I may be single, but you're ugly. . .

oI know you're happy in your relationship. I know I'm 32 years old, single, and have not had more than two dates with the same person since. . . well, let's not go there. I know that Charlotte Lucas was forced to marry the dreadful Mr. Collins because she was out of prospects at the ripe old age of 27. And even Elizabeth Bennett told Lady Catherine that she could 'hardly be expected to own her age,' and she was only 20. Really, I get it. I'm old and single. But you "smug marrieds" with your condescending head-patting are getting old.

Recent emailed inquiries, made as conversational as possible to avoid looking like there's a large flaw to be gaped at, but when strung together, they rather make one think there's a conspiracy on the rise.

J: Are you seeing anyone?

L: Just tell me if you're dating someone.

M: So, have you been dating?

B: All right, let's have it. What's the story with your life? Dating?

D: I don't understand why you're single.
[This is code for: what's wrong with you?]

And here's a couple of good conversations:

K: Are you seeing someone?
Me: You mean like dating? No.
K: Is it hard to meet people in Sacramento? [I think she's trying to figure out if she should blame me for my affliction or my geography. Note: she lives here too.] Or are there just a lack of quality people? [Ha!]
Me: I suppose it's a little of both, though I suspect I could be considered among the lack of quality.
K: Eventually someone special will come along and you'll be happy when she does :) Until then, Dozo and Mia are good friends.
Me:

Actually, I did not respond. How the heck do you respond when someone tells you, 'You'll meet someone someday, but at least you have your CATS'??

Here's another:

C: Soooooooo..... dating?
Me: Is that a question?
C: Yeah. Are you dating? Have you found that special girl?
Me: My dating is less of an endurance event, and more of a short-lived sprint of late.
C: Well, you don't need a relationship to make you happy.
Me: Did someone say I did?
C: No. I'm just saying, it doesn't have to define you.
Me: Thanks. 'Night.
[Click]

Okay -- so how the heck does one even respond to these people? I've never really liked that scene in Bridget Jone's diary where the smug marrieds ask the singleton what wrong with the single people and she says it's probably that their bodies are covered with scales. But now I see why she resorted to such a ridiculous response.
These well-meaning people are putting me on the defense for something that they have a hang up about. So when I try to add anything to the conversation, it sounds like I'm over-justifying why I'm single. If you're so bored in your relationship that you need to meddle in my life to add a little zing, then I have a few choice questions for you, you smug married, you.

Just let it go.

And I would ride 100 miles . . .

Some photos from my self-styled century a couple of weeks ago.

My lens cover got stuck, but here's a photo of (gasp!), a Target in the building process in (gasp!) Davis. What the heck? The city council of the People's Republic of Davis allowed a Target? No way.

En route to Winters.

Again, the trouble with the lens (the next day, I found a small piece of plastic that was stuck under the lens cover. Hopefully, that fixed the problem -- which was apparently compounded by my not noticing it was happening). Here's the Railroad bridge coming into Winters.
I spent a LOT of time at Steady Eddy's on this ride -- the most bike-friendly coffee shop ever. With good coffee and food and cycling snacks. Also, they'll fill your water bottle with ice and water.
I sat around here on the way out of Winters, pre-hill-climbing, for about 40 minutes. Like I had nothing else to do.
Not a whole lot of photos on the way up. Lots of climbing. Cardiac Hill was a little bigger than I'd remembered, but I did it and it's done. Didn't stop, didn't scream, didn't puke.
This sign cracks me up. It's on the back side of Cardiac if you're looking for a Pleasure Cove. Sounds like an Elvis movie. Or maybe a porn film.
A strip mall? No! It's a church!
Winters? Napa? Winters? Napa? Hmmm. . .
California poppies. Growing EVERYWHERE. Except my backyard, that is.
Lake Berryessa. Visible from the top of a very big hill.
Me at the top of the very big hill. Still smiling (only 35 miles to go).
This is great, too. FREE in giant lettering, and below, "Camping Information." So really, you get not much for free because it's posted at the entrance of a what? A campground. Yeah.

Up at the lake again.
The longest six miles ever. You get to this point where you turn a corner and all you can see are walnut orchards. As far as the eye can see. Walnuts.
Excellent post-ride meal. Sort of like a quesadilla, but without cheese, and with eggs on top. Mmmm. I'm hungry.