my regrets

Sorry blogosphere... it's not that I don't love you... I've just been busy and well, nothing much has happened I think since I last wrote.

THE MEH....

• I haven't raced my bike much (weather is crap and I am saving myself and my monies for crit season).
• I haven't played much softball (weather is crap).
• I went to some concerts, but then they got canceled so I drove all the way home.
• I climbed half way up Mt. Hood, en route to the summit (a long time goal of mine) but the winds got so fierce... we turned around and went back home.
• I've had several friends end up in nasty bike incidents which left them in the hospital for lengthy period of time.
• I lost a freelance gig I was pretty excited about.
• multiple flat tires
• hella long jury duty
• I went to a Timbers game and saw the only game they've lost at home.
• And well, we're back to taking furlough days at work again... two days a month.
• And lastly, I have a crack that mysteriously showed up on the windshield of my suby and is growing bit by bit day by day.

THE OK...

• We got some sweet new bike frames thanks to one of our sponsors, Veloforma.
• Finally got my full Ironclad kit.
• The back deck at the home is looking pretty sweet thanks to Mrs. Fritts.
• We now have Hopworks Organic IPA in the kegorator.
• I've done some sweet artwork for some upcoming bikey things.
• Went home to Ohio to see the family and show Sam the homeland (post to follow)
• The Rapture didn't happen.
• Caught up with some old friends.
• Sweet Spring Cleaning Sale of Icebreaker stuff (I cleaned up)
• I won some free Bogs boots
• I won some free Keen shoes
• new luggage!
• Glee started to get pretty good.
• Great Easter dinner with friends... (aka My Oregon family).. ps: there was Honey Baked Ham.
• A great furlough day spent at the coast with my dog, reading in the sun and then noshing on some fish n' chips.

So, there you have it. It's not that I don't love you... it's just that there is not much to report on.

And as always... if these blogger posts (or lack of them) are not enough for you, you can always follow me on Tumblr, which is pretty much the real time, live feed, and visual and mental stimulation of what gets me through the day and what I am pondering at most times.

The calamity that is spring season.

(me... off the back)

Spring Racing:

To some people Spring Season is a chance to show their mettle on the hills, to prove how hard they've been working in the off season, to show up to a race, come rain, snow, sleet or hell (hail) and bring the pain. For me, it's a chance to pay homage to the cycling gods with all the bad luck one could possibly hope for. A sacrifice if you will. Flat tires, crashes, more flat tires, getting lost, getting told the wrong way to go, shifting problems, etc... you name it and for the most part I've had something go wrong in every race I've ever done March through April. Sure, it'd be easy to just swear off racing in the spring time and try to avoid the calamity all together, but I'd rather have those things go wrong at this time of year when I don't really care too much about the outcome, than when I actually do give a shit.

And no, it's just not me and my poor attitude. It'd be easy to look back and say, well... these things are brought upon you by your reluctance to care about road races... but really, the outcome time and time and time again speak for themselves. Maybe it's one of those... if I told myself that "I was good at climbing hills then I'd become a good hill climber" kinda things. But at this point I just choose acceptance. I choose to just donate my money to the promoters in hopes that I'll get a little bit of racing in, that I can donate to my team's overall game plan for a few miles before I get bucked off the back or passed liked cheap chinese food on the hills. I'd rather get the shit storm of back luck out now.

This negative attitude on spring racing season actually helps me keep a really positive attitude in a race (or normally ride as it becomes). Take for example this past weekend during the Cherry Blossom Cycling Classic, it was the last day and the last stage and my team was going for the overall win of the race series. I got bucked off the pack early on because my legs wouldn't allow me to hammer up the hill at the blistering quick pace set by the race leaders, and then when I got to a part where I had an opportunity to catch up, my shifting was not cooperating. I caught up to another rider (Lisa, from Seattle) who had gotten spit out and between the two of us we figured it was just going to be a pleasant 30 some mile ride. Together, we kept a pretty good pace and were able to chit chat back in forth. I learned a lot about Lisa, her cycling history, what she was studying in school, etc... and somewhere between all of it she said to me... "wow, you're like the most positive pleasant person that I've ever ridden off the back with. Most people are like "f*ck this shit, I hate this, f*ck you, g'damn f*ckin hill, g'damn f*ckin bike!" and you're all happy and everything." And my response to her was just a smile.

So together, we rode around the lush orchards of The Dalles, trying to catch up with our race which really, wasn't too far ahead. But, at one point I realized something was amiss... so I asked her... "Hey, when are we supposed to get on the big loop?" (in the Cat 3 women's race we had one small loop and two big loops on the course). "We've been riding on this for too long but all of the Course Marshals have just waved us on and told us to keep going the way we were. Something isn't right here." So as we progressed, we kept asking the Course Marshals which way was the big loop? and, they kept motioning us on saying it's up ahead. Then we realized they must have had us confused with the Cat 4 women who had to do two short laps and one large one. We stopped at one point to get out a map and see exactly where the turnoff was. Lisa is like... "you have a map?" And I looked at her and smiled saying "this thing has been known to happen to me before."

However, by then it was too late. We had done an extra lap on the short loop and had completely been cut-off from our race. At this point, we had to DNF (as in: Did Not Finish) and it pained me seeing how I had already DNF'd twice this season already. Once for the lumberjack incident at Cherry Pie and then a week prior for Piece of Cake when I flatted. Never before in my two years have racing have I DNF'd, but this year it was looking to be the overwhelming trend. Worst thing is, you can't DNF at a Stage Race. If so... you can't continue onto the next stage. And granted, this was the last stage... but they don't even score you in overall General Classification then. It's like you never existed, like all the money you paid to race was just money you gave to a homeless person to spend on booze. Lisa, realizing her day was over too... called her husband (she brought a phone with her, I'll have to remember that for my next road race) told her that we were done, but for shits and giggles we'd be doing the long loop just once to get a good ride in. So, that's what we did.

When we approached the Course Marshals at the intersection who were supposed to tell us to turn, we explained their error to them. "Sorry" they said "it's so hard to tell". Which I can imagine since it looks like brightly colored spandexed rider after brightly colored spandexed rider, and well, we as riders have responsibility to know the course. However, we zoomed past them initially at a pretty quick pace and from a distance, they motioned us onto the wrong course. In fact, I think as we passed them the wrong time I even shouted out "Thanks for volunteering" since that's the kind of nice person I am. I take that back now though, what I should have really said was "thanks for kicking me out of the race!"

So Lisa and I did one full long loop and rode intermixed with the Cat 4 women who were completing their only lap and the Cat 4 men who were close to finishing their race as well. There was a massive gravel climb in this section and then a massive corkscrew descent. Lisa, who was a quicker climber than I, beat me up all the uphills and I tried with all my might to catch up with her on the downs. However, the corkscrew descent was pretty tight and right off the beginning of it I had Cat 4 men passing me through the tight turns. Seeing how they were still racing and I was not, I laid off on my speed to try and not interfere with their downhill. This was kinda hard though. At one point, looking over my shoulder to see if there were anymore men... I caught glimpse of the medic car. I thought the medic car wanted to pass me in order to catch up with the men... but no, it just kept riding behind me, slowly, engine running, creeping around every turn behind me like it was just waiting for me to crash or run off the road. (This also helped my positive attitude for the afternoon.) I was thankful when I finally reached the bottom of the hill and it passed me... speeding off to catch up with the men. Suddenly I felt relieved, I've never ridden with the grim reaper on my wheel before, but I imagine that's about what it feels like.

Within a few kilometers, I came to the finish. As I climbed the little hill I saw my friend Eryn Barker off to the side of the road. I asked Eryn if she knew or not weather the Cat 3 women had come in yet? If they had... I could cross the line and hopefully not... not DNF. However, if they still hadn't come in... I would technically be one of the first women to finish and well... that just wasn't the honest case here. So, this left me with a predicament, do I cross the line or do I not? I had no idea what to do in this situation as no one had ever prepped me for it. I looked up the road and saw Lisa and then asked her what to do. She said they had just told her to cross the line, so... that's what I did. Apparently and understandably, the officials do not care about what happens to little olde riders who get bucked off and lost from the pack.

(it was so pretty out there... did you guys see the horses and that adorable little barn and ... what? no, you were busy? Sorry you missed it. I think I am going to come back out here just to ride this course again for fun. )

So anyways, from this vantage point I could just wait to see how things finished up for my team. It didn't take too long before some familiar Cat 3 ladies roared up the road. The first one was my friend and former teammate Sara Fletcher, and then shortly after there was an uphill sprint battle which my new teammate and friend Brianna Walle won. Basically, with Sara getting the win it cemented the overall General Classification for my other teammate Anna Christansen, who came in third for the final race. When the dust finally settled, Ironclad had killed it... wining the Stage 1 Road Race, winning the Stage 2 Time Trial, not winning the Stage 3 Crit (however, I did come in fourth... but the crit doesn't mean a hill of jack squat in a stage race) and having a good enough placing in the Stage 4 Road Race to keep the competitors at bay. I'm really proud of my team, they (we) all worked really hard and together for the team win... I just wish I could have helped out a little bit more.

(WINNING!)

However, I can smile and say I'm happy my road racing season is over for 2011. From now on it's all crits and track and cross. None of this hill bull shit. Also, I hope that this ends my steady string of bad luck. I hope that I have given the cycling gods enough of a sacrifice that I can sail on clean through the rest of the year. I do know though, that racing can be dangerous and my thoughts and prayers are with fellow OBRA racer Leia Tyrrell as she recovers from a head injury that was received during the Crit in the 1/2 women's field on Saturday night. For as much of my bitching as I do here, it pails in comparison to that kinda of thing. So really, this whole post is a silly bitch fest rant me feeling sorry for myself kinda thing, and for that I am sorry to waste your time. Yes, as well, there are bigger issues for example, people in Japan are still suffering from radiation exposure and they are homeless and cold and hungry.

As for the Cherry Blossom Cycling Classic Stage Race, it's a great event... but the more I do it, the more it becomes apparent to me that I only really like 25% of it, and that's the 25% that doesn't mean anything more than bragging rights. In the long run, I just don't think it's worth the money for me to be disgruntled and fail as hard as I do. I like the teamwork and hanging out with everyone and the challenge of the whole thing... but when your name doesn't even show up on the final general classification because someone told you to go the wrong way, it leaves you feeling a little bitter. But, at the end of the day... you smile, cause the only other option is crying and well, four out of four people admit that crying over a Cat 3 women's race is pretty lame.

(Oh, here's a photo from the only aspect I liked about racing in the CBC, the Crit. I'm here, I placed well... and you can't even see me. I only laugh at this.)

Rivers and Roads

Every year I do this and every year it never gets old for me. For you the reader maybe, but for me... never. So, by all means please excuse this "I moved to Oregon Spam" to be exactly that, but for any one else... it's more or less the story of me, of independence, of adventure, exploration and knowing that life really could be better. Today is my Independence Day. The day I celebrate four years of living out here in beautiful amazing Portland Oregon. And... to help celebrate, yes... I will drink coffee, yes I will have a beer, and I will also get my library card. That is how I will celebrate!

Also, yesterday I bought a surfboard... so that makes me a little more Oregonian. All I need now is the wetsuit and I'll be set! In case you haven't heard, our coastal waters here are a little chilly. Speaking of which, today is one of the first warmer days in quite a while. However, in true Portland fashion I am layering by wearing a hoodie from a local brewery, Hopworks... whom just celebrated their 3year anniversary yesterday. As well, I am staying true to my Ohio roots by wearing a Cincinnati shirt to celebrate Opening Day for Major League Baseball (which in Cincinnati is a pretty big deal).

And, today I also celebrate four years of my Brandi Carlile video for The Story, for being filmed and being such a big hit on YouTube. You know it's got over 1,856,444 views? If only I had at least, a dime for every view I'd be a very happy camper by now. And that doesn't mean that I'm not currently a happy camper, it's just that I could probably also "afford" a camper... as well as a owning a house! And, in a very fitting move, Sara Ramierz from Grey's Anatomy is singing that song on a special musical episode of the show tonight! Make sure you tune in! Me personally, I'll be carb loading for my massive stage race in The Dalles this weekend. That's pretty Oregonian right? Bike racing.

Oh, and the photo that is posted above is my photo for the Portland Timbers, Portland's newest Major League sporting team (the only other one currently is the Blahzers). This winter they had quite a notable ad campaign that featured everyday Portland residents and soccer fans wielding axes and logging equipment. Even though some people complained that the ads were vague and didn't make sense (who are these people, they aren't even players or attractive models...) seemed to have missed the boat on the whole campaign. Because that's the point. Those people aren't "special"... they're just like you and me. And that's what makes Portland and soccer in Portland so special... especially before the season has even begun, we don't go to the game for the players (who are the players right now anyways?), we go for each other. It's the event, it's the spectacle, you, me... all of us, we are the Timbers Army and we want soccer to be big time in Portland. And it will be. It will be big, just like the ads of the everyday soccer fans suggest. And the people who don't like it... well, I suspect that it's just cause they are Blazers fans. And so, I digress, the second part of the ad campaign was to let people come in and get their "Timbers photo" taken for free. From here, people could download them and use them as profile photos or whatever on facebook. More free advertising for the Timbers. From there, they selected from the thousands of photos, the Top 100. Then, they invited the people to vote on their favorites (more free advertising) to be added on billboards. Results were talied yesterday and well... I didn't win... I didn't expect to, but it was fun to be in the Top 100. In fact, my gf Sam has the photo as her iphone screensaver. We were at a Chris Pureka concert this week and some girl behind Sam leaned in over her shoulder and said... "nice Timbers photo". To which Sam replied... "thanks, it's my girlfriend." Bam... more free advertising.

Anyways, I digress on this whole post in fact! So... to get back to the topic at hand.... yes, moving to Oregon. And here is the spam I promised you:

2010: 3.31.07. It talks about the significance of a certain show I went to go see at Mississippi Studios and what has happened since.

2009: She Flies With Her Own Wings. A condensed story of what brought me out here.

2008: One Year in Oregon Review.

2007: Oregon Trail: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 4.2

(some of the links were not working)

I think next year I should take this day to go climb a mountain or something.... ;)

we need more banjo...

If anyone has been keeping up with me or my new years resolutions/five year plan for the past few years, you'll notice a few things always seem to pop up. No, it's not work out more... lord knows I should probably work out less... the two items which always seem to pop-up are A) floss more and B) learn how to play the banjo.

While I can't really vouch for how more effective or not my flossing has become, I did make the first step the other week in Plan B), by actually purchasing a banjo - which i figure, is the first step in learning to play one. I've always heard that in comparison to the guitar, banjo's are rather difficult to learn, but I've never learned to play the guitar so I really have nothing to compare it to. I figure that when it comes to learning to play the instrument, that ground zero is probably the best place to learn. And yeah... I really don't know how to read music either, so that's another obstacle to overcome. Maybe by the time we're all said and done flossing everyday may be the more obtainable task, but I'm all about the challenges here.

Just so you know, my only prior musical experience came from Jr. High Band where I played the snare drum. Ideally during this phase in my life I should have learned to read music, but I had a rather poor introduction (since I joined band in sixth grade as opposed to fifth like most of my peers), so because of this, I think I learned most of my songs by memorization, improvisation and twirling my drumsticks. This learning process probably explains why after a year or two in band, I was moved from the drums to the cymbals and then finally to the triangle. By then, I saw the writing on the wall and regulated "playing music" into something I did once... much like show choir. Speaking of which... I will gladly dance and sing at random these days... but if ask me to sing "properly' without changing key, we might have some problems.

Also, I can't overly vouch for why I wanted to play the banjo in the first place... I guess part of it stems from that EVERYONE it seems, can play the guitar and well, the banjo is just a little more obscure (which is so hipster of me, I know). And I'd say the other part of is that I stem from Appalachia, so... it's in my blood if you. The banjo and bluegrass is the music of my people!

While I don't have big plans of learning to play "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" overnight and starting my own bluegrass band, I'm making strides to try and go over some online lessons a few times week in between work and spin classes. Hopefully eventually I'll at least be able to play "Cripple Creek" within a year. And if I can't well... there are always my goals of better dental hygiene (as the fine folks in Deliverance can tell you).

PS: as an interesting side note: I recently told my dad about buying banjo and he told me an interesting anecdote which I had no idea about, apparently, my grandfather had wanted my dad to learn how to play the banjo, and for whatever reason... my dad never did. So, one way or another, it appears as if my Grandfather is getting his wish.

in search of awesome... Hawaii part four.

Okay, I realized that I haven't yet reported on the rest of my trip to Hawaii. It's not like I went surfing, saw a sea turtle, some random dude said we were cute and bamn... trip over. Far from it in fact. It's just that while we were in Honolulu we were busy going places and doing things and after that... well, the point of the trip was to not do anything. On my itinerary for my Hawaii trip, right after surfing and pearl harbor was scribbled the word "nothing". Meaning, all I wanted to do was sit on the beach, sip some rum, and read some books. And well, that's what we did.

Oh, but aside from nothing... one day we did go sea kayaking off the Windward coast. It was fun but we spent most of our time in the kayaks using them to catch waves as opposed to "see nature" which is what our rental company suggested the boats for. I also found this other sea kayak that was totally emblazoned with Ironclad stickers.

After that, we headed to Malaekahana State Recreational Area, where I had a three night permit for camping (which is in the Northeast sector of Oahu). Happily, The Bus drops you off right outside the front gate. However, by the time we arrived there is was past dark and the park patrol people were locking the front gate. I had downloaded a map of the campsites so that I could tell where we were to pitch tent, but in the dark of the Hawaiian forest, every thing kinda looked alike... so we ventured to where we thought we were supposed to be, marveled at how no one else was there... and set up camp.

This is what we woke up to when we opened our tent in the morning:

Really, I can't complain with that view at all.

This is from the beach, we were about twenty paces from the beach. It was friggin amazing!

After fixing some breakfast we walked around a little bit and discovered where we were actually supposed to be camping. The regular campground was full of tents, people, turned over trash cans, and random chickens. Sam and I looked at each other and begrudgingly decided that later in the day we should probably move our tent to the proper location, but... we were in no rush. First on the list was laying in the sun and reading.

A little after 1:00pm a rain storm rolled in and so Sam and I decided to take the bus up to the fabled North Shore and see what the surfing is really like up there. And, so we did. And so... let me tell you, that shit is big. HUGE and no way in hell would I be surfing there anytime soon. On our day trip to the North Shore we also got some authentic Hawaiian Ice and had some tasty fish tacos at a local mexican place that seemed to be quite popular with the locals. Note to self: it's a good bet that when you're in the tiny surfing capital of the Pacific Ocean and home to some of the best waves in the world, if you local fare and not touristy stuff, do not go to the restaurant with a surf theme.

After picking up some beer and watching some surfing, Sam and I headed back to Malaekahana and made some dinner. Thankfully our tent and everything was undisturbed and so we just decided to wait it out and try to stay in our happy private backwoods camping spot for one more night, as squatters.

The next day was Valentine's Day and so I made Sam a beautiful card in the sand with a stick.

We spent all day hanging out on the beach reading and lounging in the sun. For the most part it was kinda like a private beach. We'd be all alone for most of the day till a random jogger from the nearby town would pass by. Some people would also walk nearby with surfboards, but it wasn't really that ideal of a surf spot so we'd get a little confused when they'd disappear into the distance. Also on that day a random Park Patrol man came by in a 4x4 ATV and angerly demanded to see my permit. I whipped it out and handed it to him. After a little confusion, his demeanor changed when he saw that we actually had the right paper work and then all of the sudden he was happily chit-chatting with us. He informed us that we were not in the right campsite, but told us that just as long as we moved later in the day we'd be okay. So, Sam and I agreed that we would move the site later in the day.... knowing full well that we had no intent on doing so.

So, we sat and read and drank and read and applied more suntan lotion and read and repeated that process all day long. When evening seemed to be approaching, we gather wood for a campfire and decided to cook dinner down on the beach. What followed was a delightful valentine's day dinner with wine and red beans and rice and summer sausage. Sadly though, our evening and kinda the rest of our evening of camping was marred by two random pit bulls that kept hanging around. Sam and I got kinda freaked out by them... but over all it was a delightful little camping spot.

The next morning Sam and I awoke bright and early before the sun at 5:30am to pack up camp in the dark and catch a bus to head south back to Honolulu. Not only did we have a plane to catch that afternoon back home to Portland, but we had booked a surf lesson at the private surf break that we had to catch a boat to get to. So, needless to say it ended up being a three hour long bus ride to get to where we needed to be.

The surf lesson was ho-hum, but both Sam and I rocked all the waves we got and so were were able to leave Hawaii on a positive surfing note and a little extra sun before we headed home to rainy Portland.

Have you ever transcended space and time?

great day for bike race huh?

This is my race report for Cherry Pie.

You know, I've had so many people ask me what in the hell happened to me (and what's up with the DNF?) that even after writing it down in a coherent readable form, that it still fails to make any sense to me - but here it is.

Cherry Pie is the first race of the season on the OBRA calendar. And, seeing how I cringe at any race over 35 miles (Cherry Pie is 50 miles)... it's one that I normally wouldn't sign up to do by my own measure. I mean, come mid February I'd rather be at the mountain snowboarding and thinking happy thoughts about warm weather racing; however, the promoters for Cherry Pie were offering a CAT 3 Women's ONLY field and not only did I want to support that choice with numbers, but I was excited to race for the first time with my new team, Ironclad. We had at least six girls set to race and we put together a nice little game plan to better our chances of getting one of us across the line first. In fact, I was most excited for this race as it was my first chance to really work a "team strategy". In my prior race history, it was more about surviving and trying to scrap together a decent placing... but here with Ironclad I had a set plan for the race and a finite goal to accomplish.

My game plan for the race was to work really hard and pull a lot for the first 25 miles, in an effort to protect my teammates and wear some of the other ladies out. Basically, it was nice to just focus on 25 miles and not really worry about the rest. If I was able to hang on beyond that I would, but anything over the initial 25 miles was icing on the cake. So, needless to say the first 25 miles of the race I was a crazy biking into the headwind racing fool. I pulled in a lot of places I normally wouldn't and didn't mind wearing myself out for the good of the team cause... well, it was for the good of the team. Going into the first part of the second lap (after my focused 25 miles) I got dropped on the hills (not surprisingly) and then caught up with a chase group that was in hot pursuit of the main pack. As hard as I tried though, trying to organize a productive paceline with the wind and my prior hard efforts taking their toil, I slacked off the back of the chase pack when we hit a set of rollers. Not feeling bad since I had done my job prior, I rode the remaining 18 miles or so of the race by myself seeing the trailing chasers ahead of me pretty much the whole time.

Even though I saw the glistening of bikes ahead of me, I did lose sight of them around mile 45. No worries I thought, I've just got five miles to go and well, since it's a loop course that I've already been through once, I shouldn't have a problem. So, I finished up the rest of the 50 mile race solo. The cat 3 women were the last race of the day so I naturally figured that the finish would be boxing up and packing away by the time I got there... but by the time I got there - there was no one to be found. I knew I had crossed where the finish was - since I had seen the "1km to go" and all the other race signs... but no one was in sight. Shrugging it off as the OBRA folks just being eager to get home, I wearily started to make my way back to the staging area (which was still a few miles away). It was then that I realized I had no idea how to actually get back. When prior we had passed this point I had been in a hill racing haze... so I just rode around aimlessly for a bit trying to look for something familiar, to guide me back the right way. However, the evening was drawing to a close and the sun was dropping lower in the sky. As well, I was tired and hungry and knew my ride was probably waiting for me at the car.

At that point I happened upon a local man who was cutting and loading wood into his car. I stopped and asked him how to get back to the high school and he gave me a long series of directions that made my eyes glaze over. Finally he just asked "would you like me to give you a ride back" and I eagerly agreed. So, I helped him load some wood for five minutes and then we loaded my bike into the back of his beat up Dodge truck. Then, we headed off for the staging area where all of my teammates were worried about my whereabouts. How often can you say in your race report that you helped someone stack and load wood?

So yeah, I got lost... but in my book I got lost after I passed the finish line. What makes me wonder is what in the hell happened to me to for that last quarter of the race? It'd be easy to say... well, you were just really slow jenn... but the interesting thing is that one of my teammates was behind me in the race - and yet... she finished the race across the line ahead of me. In fact, she even said that everyone waited for me at the finish - but I never showed up. My clock and milage had me at 50 some miles and I followed the race course (it was a loop so we did the same thing twice) and passed them same signs twice (most notably the egg place and the fake cop car sign)... but really I have no idea what happened to me.

Yes, I suppose I could have taken a wrong turn in there, but I don't have good luck with ending up where I am supposed to be in the first place. Normally if a wrong turn was the case I'd still be spinning around the greater part of central Oregon as we speak. Basically, my best guess is that I passed into a parallel time dimension between miles 45-51 which caused me to miss the complete official end of the race. Basically, I transcended time, but not space (Huckabee reference) In my book though, I did not DNF. In fact, I pride myself on never having a DNF in a race... it's just unfortunate that no one was there to see me finish. Anyways, quite frankly, I am still puzzled by the whole thing. All in all, it just makes me realize why i love track and crits so much. IE: it's normally pretty easy to remember where you left the car cause you never were more than a half mile away for the whole race. And, this is all the more reason to love Spin class too!

Oh, and in case you were wondering ... the Ironclad ladies killed it. The game plan continued to work even tough I was apparently lost in the woods and Brianna Walle charged up the hill at the finish to place first. It's going to be a kick ass year.

in search of awesome... Hawaii part three

One of the most memorable parts of my trip to Hawaii this past week was when Sam and I were in Kailua, on the windward coast of Oahu, to go sea kayaking. We were walking towards the beach through a residential area on a busy street to get to the beach to pick our boats up. We both were wearing shorts, tank tops and hats with our bikini’s visibly on underneath. At one point, a local man was crossing our path and as he neared closer to us… his face lit up with a big friendly smile. As he passed by us he said… "you’re AWESOME"… and walked on.

I sqinched up my face and looked at Sam who was herself, just beaming from ear to ear at the remark.

“Huh?” … I said to Sam… “I wonder what was so awesome?” in a vain attempt to pinpoint the awesome.

Sam just smiled and said… “isn’t it obvious?”