It IS About the Bike

Murphy's Law of Biking

2006-04-17T12:39:00.000-05:00

So the biker's block has been broken (say THAT 10 times fast!). It happend on Saturday and, I have to say, it was a learning experience. It was quite cloudy, and a bit brisk (see: cold), so I knew that if I wanted to ride in clear, hot weather, I would be forced to tie my rain coat (really heavy, plastic one; one of those fancy, crumple up in your pocket one won't work), and wear a heavy jacket. About 100 yeards from my starting point, it had already heated up enough for me to take off my jacket and tie that around my waist.

What's that, you say? Why not just circle back to the car and put those things away? Well, I say, because I know that if I did not lug them with me, it would be pouring in about 15 minutes and the temp would drop about 15 degrees. How do I know this, you ask? Because I have experienced it, I answer. We all have. And thus, I always invoke the Murphy's Law of Biking:

1. If you do not want it to rain, make sure you take your rain coat.

2. If you want the temp to rise, overdress.

3. If you want the bike to run perfectly, don't waste your time going over it and cleaning it, ride it through mud puddles. The dirt will make sure to keep everything in its place.

4. If you don't want a flat tire, remember to bring your patch kit, extra tube, and several CO2 cartridges.

The list really is endless, and it becomes a game as the season progresses. Playing How Long Can I Ride Before I get Drenched or Hit By Lightening.....or a quick game of Ride Through Glass.....it is all good. But it always catches up to us.

Pedal, Pedal, Pedal!

Biker's Block

2006-04-14T12:43:00.000-05:00

I've taken my bike down from it's hanger.

I've put on my bike clothes.

I've made plans on what I needed to do before I go out.

I've looked outside.

I've done everything I have needed to do, except get on my bike and ride out onto the trails.

It is almost like I am afraid of what will happen. I haven't been on my bike in weeks. WEEKS. That's right, WEEK-plural.

I need to get past this Biker's Block. I need someone to drag me out by my hair, put my on my bike and push me off onto the trails. It isn't even like I have to DRIVE ANYWHERE.

HOW LAZY CAN I BE?

I guess we will find out soon enough.

But IT'S HARD.....

2006-03-30T08:38:00.000-05:00

While I appreciate that BikeHubby is only trying to look out for me, and that he knows that if I am laid up with a broken leg or some other injury I will be unable to keep him in the way that he has become accustomed, I'm afraid that my patience has run thin.

I want to do the Vermont 50 this year. Just a personal goal; A goal that I have had since I started mountain biking and loving it. I know that it is not easy. I know that it takes some training and dedication if one wants to do their best. I am not 5 years old. At least not physically. Emotionally? Well, that's probably another post.

But BikeHubby will stop people on the streets if he recognizes them as someone who has participated in the 50. "Look!" He says, pointing excitedly. "She's done the 50 before! " He will run over and engage them in conversation, pulling me with him. "She wants to do the 50 this year," he will say, pointing at me. "Tell her how hard the 50 is." Looking confused, the person will inevitably say "It's Hard. The 50 is really hard." BikeHubby will then look at me triumphantly and say "See?". The accosted will wander away at some point, while he is lecturing me on how hard the 50 is.

I finally had to sit him down and explain to him that I know the 50 is hard. I understand that there is a chance of my getting injured. (Probably more than a chance, if one goes back and reads some of my previous posts) But that this is a personal challenge that I wish to embark upon and that if he would like to help, then he can help most by KEEPING OUT OF MY WAY!!

I think that I am going to tell him that I am not going to ride the 50, go ahead and train for it, enter it, then sneak out of the house on the morning of and leave him a note. That might be my only hope.

First, the good news.

2006-03-07T10:36:00.000-05:00

The good news is that I do not require surgery at this point, as I do have part of my ACL still left standing. Yay for no surgery. However, the good news would not be complete if it did not have some yang to its yin. Or yin to its yang. Whichever, I apparently have some issues with the tissues right around my kneecap. Tissue issues would be fine, but my tissues seem to have not just issues, but a full subscription. And so, my doctor has told me that my level of activity will coincide with my pain threshold. High Painthreshold = High Activity.

And so with my prescription Alleve, I am off to spinning, going back to skiing (such as it is), and trying to be happy that I do not have to have surgery. I know that this is good, but it is frustrating that there is no 'fix'. That pain is something that I have to learn to live with.

Ah, well, at least I have my bike. And I shall Pedal, pedal, pedal!

First Time

2006-02-27T12:40:00.000-05:00

Do you remember your first time? Mine happened on a weeknight, when I was about 6 or 7. I remember using my brother's blue schwinn, with a white banana seat, which had a handle on the back for my father's steady hand. I had practiced in the driveway, but this would be my first time on the street. I remember being jealous of my brother as he rode his bicycle through the neighborhood. He would go so fast and so many places that walking could not take you. He was part of this elite group and, of course, being his little sister I wanted to belong, too. So that evening, I was determined to join the freedom league and really learn to ride a bike.

It seemed like forever before my dad got home from work. And when I met him in the driveway, with my brother's bike, he laughed and told me to wait until he changed his clothes. I was straddling the bike at the side of the street, when he came out of the house.

My dad's advice, before we took off on our adventure, was Ok. Now remember..... just pedal. Even if you aren't sure, just pedal.

As I sat on the bike, my dad held me steady with the handle on the seat. He asked if I was ready....And, concentrating on the road in front of me, I told him I was. He started to jog, pushing me in front of him, as he encouraged me to pedal. I remember my tongue sticking out between my lips, the wind rushing past me, and the sound of my dad's footsteps as we sped down the street. All of a sudden, I felt a little push and could hear my dad yelling PEDAL! PEDAL! And I realized that he had let go. And I was riding! I was pedaling! I was riding down the street, just like my brother. I still remember smiling and yelling at my dad that I was doing it! I was doing it!

And then I realized that I was heading right toward a manhole cover in the middle of the street, and being unsure of how to steer the bike, I stopped pedaling, hit the edge of the cover, and fell over. My epic ride of about 25 feet was over. As my dad ran to help me up, I saw that I had put a hole in my Roughrider jeans (darned near impossible, you know) skinned my knee and my hand and I remember thinking that maybe I would have a scar on my knee, just like my brother's. Dad picked me up, brushed me off and told me what a good job I did and that I needed to give it another try.

With his hand on the seat handle, he pushed me off and watched me as I wobbled down the street. Very soon after that, I got my own bike. With it's own banana seat. And I think that as of now, I have more scars from bike riding that my brother. And although I have to say that every bike ride I have been on has had a special moment, you never forget your first time.

Pedal, Pedal, Pedal

And it looks like....DECEMBER

2006-02-27T12:37:00.000-05:00

So while recovering from my whining episode, it snowed. And a lot! Like about 11 inches. Light, fluffy, champagne powder. So here I was, focusing on mountain biking and it snows. And I start whining again, albeit to myself, as everyone else is rejoicing in the fact that there is finally snow on the ground at the end of February.

So now, I have started to think about biking and how it all began. And where it has left me. And I decided instead of whining, maybe I will start writing down things that were fun or interesting....and see where that takes me. Hopefully out of this abyss of self-pity into which I have fallen and can't get up.

So......Once Upon a Time, a long, long time ago.....

Winter Blues

2006-02-24T15:21:00.000-05:00

It is almost the end of February and winter has finally arrived. There are 2 inches of fresh pow on the ground, the trails are covered, and the ground is frozen. It is perfect riding weather and here I am feeling sorry for myself. Whining the way all good whiners should. I tried to ride the other day, but apparently, a torn meniscus seems to wreak havoc with doing much of anything. Walking stairs? Painful. Walking? Painful. Sitting for any length of time? You guessed it: Painful. And you are talking to a girl who set her own broken finger and didn't think it hurt much. I have torn just about everything in my body at least once, broken a few things, fractures a couple, and this is the most miserable I have been in a long time. One big pity party with me as the guest of honor. Blah, blah, blah. Who knew I would be so good at this whining game?

I gotta get out more. And do what, I don't know, but I gotta get out more.

Defined

2006-02-13T09:26:00.000-05:00

When I try to define myself, I find that I am defined by what I do outside of work. If I must put myself into that neat little box that people seem to want to see one in, work won't do it. What does do it, is placing myself as in the skier box in the winter and biker box year round.

So what happens when how you define yourself disappears. Gets placed on hold. Nothing catastrophic that is enough to remind you how lucky you are to be alive, but harsh enough to make you question the box you have placed yourself in. Mine is a torn meniscus and ACL. No skiing for the rest of the season and some biking, but stick to dirt roads. Spinning is ok.

BikeHubby is mortified, as it was an accident involving him that resulted in my downfall. And now he wonders when he will see me, as I work all week and he will want to spend time on the slopes with his weekend friends. Someone asked me why he wouldn't give up his weekend skiing so that he could spend time with me, but they don't understand. No one who knows what it is like to live a sport would ask someone to give it up because they couldn't do it. I could never ask anyone to sacrifice themselves like that.

Surgery. Rehab. No biking for about 6-8 weeks post surgery.

I guess it is time to get out the dictionary and look for a new definition.

You Call This Winter?

2006-01-26T09:29:00.000-05:00

Ok, to someone who grew up in Wyoming, Winter means Snow, Cold, and, most of the time, Wind. And not in that particular order. In the east, however, everyone seems to be surprised when, year after year, around November, December (sometimes October), it gets cold and white stuff falls from the sky. Schools close, people miss work.....if my school closed as much as they do in the East, I would still be in the 4th grade.

Anywhooooo, as you may (or may not) recall, I was all up for winter in December. Then something happened. Either I pissed off the snow gods, or Karma has decided that I don't deserve happiness, but Winter overslept. I mean it showed up for a brief period, but then I guess Spring got antsey or they traded seasons....who knows? But we have more mud than snow and have had more rain days than snow days. And to top it off, we don't even have sunny, muddy days, but dreary, rainy, depressing days.

Skiing has not been....well, stellar. It has been more 'bulletproof', if anything. And biking? Well.....no ice to ride on, no frozen trails....just big mud bogs.

Until last Sunday. IT FROZE. That's right, we had a COLD NIGHT!!!! Okay, most of the snow was gone, but there was enough ice on the trail to get out the bike and go for a bit of a ride. So off I went. And in true BicycleFreak fashion, I promptly got lost. Although I did find some nice deer runs. You see, when there is a coating of snow in some areas, pretty much everything looks like it COULD be a trail. And off I go, only to find it is not a trail when it leads me in circles and ends up in someone's barn. At least I don't think it is....And to top it off, there was the meeting of the DOG FROM HELL, our neighbor's dog, which he allows to run all over the area. This is not a good dog, nor a cute dog. It is a big freakin' German Shepherd, which had tried to attack me on my deck in the past. However, this time, I was not in the mood, so I screamed at it that if I had a gun, I would put a bullet in it's head and surprisingly, it understood me and ran away. I guess it could see I wasn't in the mood.

So after two hours of going somewhere, but nowhere, I have to say....it was my best bike ride of 2006. Okay, it was my first and only bike ride of 2006, but it was great fun. It was sunny, it was cold and I was riding my bike on some of the funnest single track and deer runs in the Northeast.

So go out and do something!

Finding Your Legs

2005-12-01T11:36:00.000-05:00

So after the Disaster De Studs, and with the lack of any good packed trails as of yet, we decided to foray out into the world of skiing at Pico. "Pico?" You ask. "Aren't they still closed?" Yes, my friend, they are. That is why we skinned up.

Skinning is an interesting way to make your way up a slippery mountain. I am thinking of putting some on my mountain bike and then perhaps I could ride through the slippery snow! But, you say, that can't be all there is to it, Ms. BicycleFreak, as that wouldn't make much of a BicycleFreak Adventure.

Ah, my friends, you are too smart for me. Yes, there is more to it. You see, I started telemarking last winter. And BikeHubby, who has been telemarking since fire was invented, decided that I could use his old skins, since he wasn't sure that I would like skinning up. And you see, when skins get old, they don't work so well. Kind of like studded tires on deep snow covering slushy ice. Not that I would know how that works. So, with old skins, you might take one step forward and slide two steps back. But hey, I've never been one to duck a challenge, so off I went. Behind BikeHubby. And let me tell you, BikeHubby BOOKS up those slopes. And makes comments like "gee, this is really nice going up a slope at a leisurely pace. You really get time to enjoy the view" Now unfortunately, Pico does not have any major cliffs that are easily accessible off the main slope, so BikeHubby was able to make it to the summit without any "unfortunate incidents".....But paybacks are a bitch and I NEVER forget.....

Once we reached the top and started down, powder flying up into our faces, I started giggling. In all my weirdness, powder, single track, a nice hill.....all seem to give me the giggles. I am not sure if it is because I am enjoying myself so much or because I realize only a nutcase WOULD enjoy herself so much.

Tele, tele, tele!

Slip sliding away or Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh, how slippery it is.

2005-11-20T10:27:00.000-05:00

So even though there were roughly 6 inches of snow on the ground, I decided that I could push through on studded tires. After all, that is why we put studded tires on, is to ride through snow, isn't it? Well, read on and you decide.

Down the road I go, up the road I go, instead of ducking in on one of the other, closer trail accesses. I figure that I needed to start out on snowmobile trail, just to get my feet wet, so to speak, before taking off on the more difficult single track. I had visions of BikeHubby coming home and seeing my single tire track, beautifully laid in and following the single track that weaves around our house. My plan was to hop into the snowmobile track, get acclimated, then weave over to the single track, taking me round back home.

The dirt road was a bit slippery, but I wrote that off to the fact it is well traveled, thus will have more of a layer of muck and ice on it from the various vehicles. Of course, the trail under the snow won't be so slippery, right? Um....NOT. As I cross onto the snowmobile track, my tires spin out and PLOP! I splat right onto the snow in a slow speed tip-over. Not to be beaten, I get right up, get on my bike, clip in.........clip in...............dammit! clip in!........crap. Too much snow packed into my cleat- So I get next to a tree, on my bike, dig out the snow, clip in, and I'M OFF! And I'M OFF ONTO THE GROUND AGAIN. Spin-out and Plop!

Okay, new plan. I walked my bike deeper into the woods, thinking that if I got some momentum down one of the hills, then I would be golden! YEAH! After walking for about 10 minutes, I get to an area with a good downhill, get on my bike, clean out my cleats and I'M OFF! I'm moving!!!! Yay! Um, not so yay, because not only am I moving downhill at a pretty good clip, but my back tire is sliding all over the place. It is all I can do to maintain upright....for the next two minutes. PLOP. Bike and I end up eating snow again.

So instead of continuing that torture, I turn around and walk out, heading back to the house. I decide that I will ride the single track right around there, because at least I am close to home if I get buried in an avalanche, plus, it is probably just that I SUCK as a rider and need more practice on the snow. It can't be that it is slippery, can it?

For what happened next, just go back up and start reading this post over again. Same idea, same result, different trail.

I return home, sweaty and beaten, my head hung in shame. BikeHubby returns home to a bike trail headed onto our trails and footprints headed out, with a couple of sitzmarks along the way. But surprisingly, he is impressed that I tried to tackle the snow covered trails. So even though I wasn't able to complete a portrait of effortless grace through our snow covered trails, I was able to leave my mark.

Pedal, pedal, pedal....

Perceptions

2005-11-08T08:12:00.000-05:00

Isn't it funny how things change? How we see things one day is not necessarily how we see things on another. That is the beauty of life - And of cycling.

This is really my first year mountain biking. I had been a road rider for years and could not fathom what could be entertaining about riding a bicycle in the woods, at a painfully s-l-o-w pace, going over rocks and trees, falling down....After all, how often does one really crash on a road bike. You had better hope it is not often.

Then I got my first mountain bike and I went out on one of the snowmobile trails around our house. My bike was a heavy bike, not very maneuverable, but I was hooked. No turning back now. A couple of months later, I moved up to my current Rocky Mountain hard tail, which I LOVE, and disc brakes, which I really LOVE, especially after I learned to use them without doing an endo!

I stayed on snowmobile trails, venturing onto single track only once in awhile. And if you rode BikeHubby's single track, you would know why. He is an ex-motorcross champion, and someone who things that if it is easy, you shouldn't be doing it. The point is to challenge yourself. That is why he telemark skis, that is why he mountain bikes, that is why he road rides. His trails are winding, narrow, off camber, with saplings that you sometimes have to jog your handlebars through. I watched a show on Fuel recently, and someone was talking about this narly single track out west. They showed the single track and....well.....it looked fun, but if you went off the trail, you would just go into some sparse bushes here and there. If you go off track on our trails, you will hit a tree, or a rock, or roll down a hill. BikeHubby's single track does not leave a lot of room for error.

But there is one area that I liked to practice on once in awhile - the switch backs that come up to the front of our house. The switchbacks that people both enjoy and dread on the VT50, because they have to ride in front of an audience that is both cheering them on and giving them a hard time. But when I first started riding, I could never make it around those tight corners and I could not figure out how anyone could!

Fast forward to this last Sunday's ride. I went out by myself on this beautiful fall day and rode some of the snowmobile trails and single track around the house. The leaves were down and there was a HUGE amount of sticks from the freak snowstorm that we had, so I spent a lot of time cleaning the trails. But what was funny was that trails I was never able to do without walking, I did. And had fun. And did it without stressing.

But now comes the part I both enjoyed and dreaded. The switchbacks. And my parents are visiting, so I was praying that they wouldn't look out the picture window as I started my climb. I didn't need an audience. But my prayers went unanswered as I heard a "Go -go-go!" from the deck. I glanced up and saw BikeHubby, dressed to go on his ride, standing on the deck. Oh, great. Now he was joined by my parents, who, of course, had cameras at the ready. Oh, good.

As I rode, however, I was waiting for my usual choke. The spot where I have to stop because I can't make the corners. But apparently Bike Hubby had changed the switchbacks, because the corners were so much wider than I recalled. I hadn't done the switchbacks in over a month, but it seemed to me that they were much sharper before. As I cranked up the hill, listening to the crowd cheer me on, I was both a bit annoyed that BikeHubby had changed the course and a bit relieved. At the top, with Bike Hubby to greet me, I asked him when he changed the switchbacks. Apparently, he thought I had fallen and hit my head - He looked confused and told me that it is the same as it always was. And that I had done an awesome job coming up-

Perceptions. You think you know something, then come to find out, you don't. The hills have become flatter on my road bike, and on my mountain bike, the turns have become wider. We all have perceptions of what we think things and people are, but it is interesting how, over time and exposure to those elements, our perceptions change.

I love biking.

Pedal, pedal, pedal!

Snow? But, It's October!!

2005-10-31T11:13:00.000-05:00

So there has been a chance to hike & ski at least for a short time this year. The bummer is that the trails are not frozen, but they are covered in a nice leaf slime, with ice and snow topping. Yum!

I have relegated myself to riding the dirt roads, with my attempts at riding the trails ending in nothing more than complete and utter disaster, including endos into ditches, sliding down off camber trails into rocks, and generally feeling like I was trying to herd cats. Or juggle jello. Or ride my mountain bike on trails that have seen more rain in October than they have seen since the rainfall has been kept track of. And then there was the snow. Of which we still have some. Wow, what a crappy sentence that was. Just like the trails after rain, after snow and with a warm up.

The weather was great this last weekend, however. But the trails are still under recovery. I am hoping that either it freezes hard, or it stays nice long enough to dry up. Either way, I am good. With frozen ground and/or snow on top, you can use studs (excluding BikeHubby, of course), and with dry weather, things remain the same.

I'm beggin Mother Nature to please, please, please have some mercy on Ms. Bicycle Freak. She's really teetering on the brink of insanity of which Mother Nature has not seen.

Rain, rain, go away

2005-10-12T08:25:00.000-05:00

Because you are causing a biking delay.

The weather here has been rainy. And cloudy. And rainy and cloudy. We have gotten to go out on a couple of mountain bike rides, but road riding for me is out of the question. I can handle getting wet if I have been riding and it starts raining, but starting out in 50 degree weather, when it is already raining, is not something I really want to do.

We made sure that our fenders were on, to prevent that attractive and comfortable "wet stripe up the butt" and mud in our hair and set off. Turns out that although I didn't get the stripe up the butt, I did get the mud and water up and down my legs, as well as in my shoes. Note to self: sometimes a puddle is deeper than it looks. PEDAL HARD! Otherwise you tip over. In the puddle. In the mud. And people can't usually get off their bikes to help you because they are laughing too hard.

The weather has been gloomy and the bike riding has been reflecting that. There is no jovial laughter, no joking - just pedalling like you can outrun the gloom and the rain.

I love winter, but what I hate is that time in between when it there is neither sunshine, nor snow. Just gloomy rain. I guess it is appropriate to feel like the end is near - the time of year when things die and head into slumber, but part of me just is not ready for it to end. I want to fight to hang onto what little biking without studs and booties is left. I love winter, but I am not heading into it without a fight!

Pedal, pedal, pedal!

50 Miles-o-Fun

2005-09-27T11:37:00.000-05:00

So the 50 took place on Sunday, with clouds hanging low and a threat of showers in the afternoon. BikeHubby and I got up at 4:30 a.m., so that BikeHubby could preride part of the course. Have to make sure that every twig and leaf is off the trail and that the rocks are polished, you know. BikeHubby got home around 7:30, just in time for the first Bloody Mary of the morning.

It wasn't until around 9:30 ish that the fun started. Runners first began to go through, followed closely by the first mountain bikers. The first three mountain bikers through were right on each other's tail - something I had never seen before. The trail leading up to the house is filled with switchbacks, which usually separate people pretty well. But these three were linked. And fast. And serious. We cheered loudly as they went by, acknowledged by the 'bike wave', consisting of one or two fingers lifted off the handlebars in our direction.

Many bikers came through, along with many runners - some having fun, some in pain, some serious and some you wanted to take off the course and load in your car.

In the early hours, with the first group of about 20 or so going through, one of the bikers yelled to us and asked if we had a beer. As he looked up toward us, he went off the trail and endo'd into a bush. His partner, riding in front of him, stopped to raise his fist and yell "Classic, man!" We were laughing so hard that we could barely cheer him on. One guy went by doing a wheelie and one guy yelled that he was the oldest guy on the course. YAY OLD GUY! We saw many friends come through and we made sure that they knew we were behind them all the way! It was great seeing so many levels of aptitude on the course. There were pro bikers, marathoners and then there were the group of "Mom Bombs", novice bikers, and people who had never raced. There were kids in full BMX dress, looking like they were about 12, and a few old people, pedalling along. It was great.

Bikes broke down, people broke down, but all in all, it was a good race. The winner came in at 4:10 - amazingly fast for that course.

The Vermont 50- Maybe some day, when I grow up, I will be someone that is cheered on to the finish!

The Famous Vermont 50

2005-09-20T09:43:00.000-05:00

For those of you who have not heard of this aforementioned bike race, and I supposed there are some.....maybe who have been in Tibet, or who have just come back from submarine duty.....This is a mountain bike race over the hills and through the dales of Vermont. Some blacktop, some dirt, some singletrack. Those who have done it for the first time are surprised at how hard 50 miles can be. It starts in the predawn hours, when it is cold and you are dressed in layers, eventually ending in what we hope is the sunshine and good weather of Fall. A couple of years ago, however, it turned into the RACE FROM HELL, with torrential downpours happening throughout the day. The trails were a mess. The powers that be did not see fit to just end the race at some point, even though both mental and physical injuries plagued almost everyone. Just let them go and quit if they choose. Big mistake. I hope that this year will be different.

The 50 comes right by our house and we are able to watch the participants in their suffering glory. BikeHubby has raced three times, placing high each time and coming in second once. I have yet to participate. I want to participate. I could participate. I should participate. But I don't participate. I have ridden some of the trails (some are only open during the 50, so you can't ride them) and there are some places I walk and some I ride - but that is true with just about everyone. I actually think that my competitive nature makes me want to do it only if I can put in a good performance. One that rivals BikeHubby's performance. And with this being my first year on a mountain bike, I am not sure that I can turn in that kind of performance and I have to say that I am afraid of failure. That I won't finish. That I will be wandering, lost, out on the trails somewhere and have to be rescued (and if you have read any of my other posts, you will know that is a distinct possibility) and that I will then have to face everyone and explain why I failed. And explain it to myself.

So next year, I am not going to watch from the sidelines. I have never let fear of failure hold me back before....Heck, I am an old hand at failure! Queen of Failure, in fact! But I want to be prepared. So I am signing up for two Coyote Camps and heading into a real training program so maybe I can fool myself into thinking that I am prepared. And who knows? Maybe I will come close to BikeHubby's time. Sweet!

No Shame

2005-09-16T10:35:00.000-05:00

I have noticed that as I ride more, I become more and more uninhibited. Change my clothes in a parking lot? No problem! Need to pee? As long as there is room by the side of the road or trail, no problem. Although peeing while riding is something that I am not sure is physically possible for women, so I have yet to try it. On one ride, one of the women opened her fanny pack and a tin fell out. When asked what it was, she said that it was 'crotch glide' - you know, for your crotch. Another woman looked at first shocked, then appalled, then curious.

We both explained to her that due to the sensitive nature of that area, some of us use various things to prevent saddle sores or chaffing. And I told her that when I first started riding, I used vaseline, but that can be both messy and it kind of keeps moisture in - now I use chamois Butter, but I am not really that thrilled with it and wanted to try Crotch Guard. Now by the look on her face, you would think that I just told her in great detail that I was sleeping with her husband, running a child labor camp, and liked kicking puppies in my spare time. It was then I realized that I had taken a step out of 'polite company' and into 'no shame land'.

I guess most of the time, women wonder how men can talk about bodily functions so readily, when we are taught that they are dirty and not to be discussed in polite company. My nephews think fart jokes are funnier than anything else and calling each other things like 'poop' or 'fart' are the highest form of subtle jibes. My nieces, on the other hand, are embarrassed, though they giggle politely, when these types of exchanges take place. And now I wonder how my nieces would feel about my 'crotch' discussion. Probably embarrassed.

Then last night, I was having a discussion with one of our biking buddies, a really great biker and skier who often drops by to have a beer and swap war stories. As we were talking, discussion went to getting ready for ski season and how weight lifting is key to getting those legs ready. I told him that I had a brief stint building competitively, and that my coach loved me because of my muscle mass distribution. I informed him that I had a slightly higher level of testosterone that most women....to which he rolled his eyes and said "Gee, do ya think?". Maybe that is why my level of shame related to these not so nice aspects of biking is really nil. The testosterone negates the shame gene.

So, anyone want to discuss crotch issues? I'm here for you.

pedal, pedal, pedal!

Bikers

2005-09-12T14:43:00.000-05:00

So we had a party this weekend - about 50 people showed up. A friend of mine, who is not a rider, also showed up. Her comment after the party? "Wow, there was a lot of bike talk going on around there." Bikers and skiers. Skiers and bikers.

A friend of ours was there, a guy who had fractured his ankle on a mountain bike ride at the beginning of the season. Bummer. He was there since he ran out of sympathy at home and was looking for some new people who might be available to shower him with 'poor-babies'. He claims that the fracture hurt less than his famous cuticle injury of '02. Although the cuticle injury was severe (it didn't bleed, but close), we thought that surely the fracture had hurt more. But he claims that the circuit breakers on his pain panel had apparently been tripped and he did not have to suffer. Being an electrician, he is unable to come up with any analogies other than those electrically related. Thus, the cuticle injury of '02 did not cause a trip, so he was forced to suffer. This time, he got off easy and is just relegated to spending time in his basement, spinning.

Bikers. That is what we are. Through and through. Not particularly good bikers, some of us, but we love it. And sometimes, it loves us. Bikehubby and I were driving somewhere and I saw a sign that said "Bikers Welcome". I pointed the sign out to BikeHubby and told him that I thought it was interesting that a bar had a sign for bikers. He looked at me like I had just fallen off of the blonde bus and said....Uh, I think they mean motorcyclists. Well, they shouldn't say 'bikers' if they don't mean 'bikers'.

Cuz I'm a biker.

Choices

2005-09-08T07:10:00.000-05:00

Last night was a terrific time to be alive. The weather was perfect Pre-Fall weather, crisp and clear, warm but not too warm. And I was on my mountain bike, huffing up and down hills, riding behind BikeHubby. Although someone made the snide comment that he brings 'beginner kids' on those trails, definitely meant as a dig to me, I was having a blast. And so was BikeHubby. And BikeHubby can beat this guys ass 10 ways to Sunday on (or off) a bike.

Just goes to show you that we all make choices. Ours was to ride these trails and have some fun. His choice was to try and make me feel small. We succeeded. He failed.

Thes trails are very fun, very fast and I have probably talked about them before. Now that one of my best bike coaches is preggers, and she can't ride trails anymore, I am on my own for practice. And these hills give it to you. I think that my choice is leaning more and more toward mountain biking. Just the interval training alone is incredible.

A friend of ours also came by and asked if I would be interested in riding with him on some of the trails around our house. He doesn't want to ride with the big groups and figures that our levels are about equal. So I think this week, the lights go on, the bikes come out, and we will be off. I chose to leave the big mountain biking group, since, as all women know, size DOES matter. I don't like a big group when it comes to mountain biking, especially ones that seem annoyed if you aren't as fast or as strong as they are. HEY, it's my first year on this thing - give me a break! But I am choosing instead to go with a friend, just the two of us (or three if Bikehubby goes with us).

Choices. Interesting things. I can't imagine that I would ever choose not to ride.

Biking Bliss

2005-09-06T10:30:00.000-05:00

Three whole days off of work. Three whole days. What to do, what to do? Or should I say where to go, where to go? Three days to pedal myself silly.

BIKING BLISS DAY ONE
This could also be entitled "Babe in the Woods"

Mountain biking day. I have really decided to leave most of the road riding to the eighteen wheelers who try to run me off the road and spend more time in the forest with the Bears. At least I stand a chance with a bear. So today was Mountain Biking Day with Bikehubby. And we decided to go on some singletrack that I had never been on before - It was a BLAST (that would be with a capital B). Buzzing among the trees, I got to try out a new trail that was recently built - soft, but fun. Should add some Narly to the Vermont 50, that is for sure.

We had a great time. We were pedalling, walking, laughing - Although I did fall over at one point, in the mud of course (rocks or mud is all I can fall over on - never nice soft grass). My foot wouldn't unclip - bit of a mud issue- So anyway, fun, fun fun. Till BikeBastard I mean Hubby says "Hey, we are going straight here, on that new trail that we have been working on. So straight we go. And up, and straight. And STRAIGHT INTO BIKER HELL.

Let me tell you that I HATE HIKING. Now if you put a bike or skis in my hand, and call it biking or skiing, I have been known to hike, but I HATE HIKING (Let's just say that it had to do with growing up in Wyoming, with parents who liked to spend hours, if not days, in the middle of the prairie, wandering aimlessly. Every weekend. And they made me go. I HATE HIKING). And there is a reason I am telling you this, as there came a point on the "trail', that we could not ride anymore. And we started walking. Turns out that the trail hadn't even been built yet. It had been marked out (paint splotches on the ground), but not made. So I was crawling over tree trunks, through briar patches, through mud, around small cliffs.....And I can do that for a short time, but the ENTIRE TRAIL HAD NOT BEEN BUILT. After about 1/2 hour hiking, I told Bikebastard, I mean Hubby that if I did not find a road soon, I was turning around, and if I had to hike back through that crap with my bike, he might not want to come home any time soon. Fortunately for him, he found a snowmobile trail fairly quickly.

We did have an uneventful ride home, but Bikehubby figured that he best be vewy, vewy quiet. And nice. Maybe buy me a present - something pretty for my bike or skis......

DAY TWO

This was going to be kayaking day, but it turned into Road Riding Day. Hubby's shoulder was bothering him - and no, I didn't twist his arm back behind his head, rip it off and beat him with it after yesterday. Thought about it, but didn't do it.

So we went on a road ride and I have to say that I am sooooo glad that I mountain bike now, because sometimes, you wind up in places on your road bike in which your mountain biking skills really help. Such was the case today. We road around Queechee and Pomfret - nice roads, nice hills, but then we took this little dirt road that BikeHubby had ridden before. It is only dirt for a fairly short period of time, then the tar road is really nice downhill. So off we go on the dirt road - had to walk around a puddle at one point - but no biggie. Then, we go over a little rise and meet a downhill that was....well....narly at best. It was a downhill that I would probably walk, even on my mountain bike. Steep, washed out, rocky, with a nice little cliff-like downhill toward the bottom - something you basically have to jump off of. But by the time I really assessed what was there, I was already on the downhill and if I had tried to stop, it would have resulted in Trek splattered across the rocks and tumbling down the rest of the hill. So I went for it, in mountain bike mode, and prayed it would end soon. I didn't let BikeHubby see how badly my hands were shaking when I reached the bottom.

But the downhill on the tar road was really fun. So It was worth it. And, I am learning how to eat better on these rides. No bonking!!

DAY THREE

This was supposed to be a rest day, until BikeHubby nagged me into going on a ride 'with the girls' while he worked on that trail that wasn't a trail when I rode it. I mean walked it. I mean hiked it. So this was day two of road riding. What happend to cutting back on road riding.....

So I went. I hate girl-rides. I am not the girly type. I don't like to talk about my nails or where someone got that cute shirt or what my hubby did that was really annoying. When I am on my bike, I like to ride. If I am having dinner with people and alcohol, LOTS of alcohol, I can stomach this kind of talk and even participate. But I really don't like these ride-n-chats. To top it off, there is a hill on this ride that I hate. I don't know why, as it isn't a real killer, but I just have issues with it. I don't like it and it doesn't like me. Mutual dislike. And I have to comment on the fact that I hate this hill. Now most of the guys I ride with either agree with me or say something like 'I know what you mean- have a hill {fill in the location here} that I just hate. Don't know why, but I hate it." Now when I say "I hate this hill", one of the gals (who doesn't ride a lot, incidently, and whose husband is one of those who always talks about how he can kick your ass on a bike but never does, but has a really good excuse as to why he failed) says "You know, if you just shift into a smaller ring, you can get up the hill easier." REALLY?? Damn it, why didn't anyone tell me that you can shift into a smaller ring and it is actually easier to pedal?! WHY?? Why is it that these secrets are kept from me!! I always wondered what all those teethy-looking round things were, but didn't know I could use them to go up and down hills easier!!! DAMN! But now I know. Thank goodness. Now I will love that hill.

I hate girl rides. But I love biking. And three glorious days of it!

Pedal, pedal, pedal.

It IS about Life

2005-09-02T09:49:00.000-05:00

A sad state of affairs in our country at this point. One that can't be chased away by riding my bicycle. The pictures are more than tragic.

Please help. Please give. Please remember how lucky you are.
Red Cross

Partly Cloudy, with some sun, mixed with a chance of rain.

2005-08-30T07:24:00.000-05:00

I love weatherpeople (notice how PC I am?). I should have been a weather person. What other job could you have where you could be wrong over 75 percent of the time and still keep your job?

"Gee, Doctor, I think that you were wrong when you said that you needed to give him a kidney transplant. It just looks like the flu."
"That's okay, nurse, I have still be right over 40 percent of the time! So what if I removed that one person's organs before they were dead. I did ask them if they were alive and got no answer. My percentage of being right is still on the good end for a doctor."

"Gee Mr. Engineer, I think you were wrong when you said duct tape would hold the wings on that fleet of planes."
"That's okay, only 70 percent of the planes fell from the sky, so my percentage of being right is still on the good end for an engineer!"

We have been having rain on and off over the past few days - typical "Autumn Weather". Yes, I know that it is August and not really Autumn, but when the trees start to change color, I go with mother nature's idea of when Autumn starts. A few days ago, however, we were having some really good weather. Great, clear, not a cloud in the sky, had the sun in my eye and I wouldn't have been surprised if it was a dream. And the weatherman comes on and shows us the radar, which has splotches of green all over the state. Hmm. Interesting. Oh, but he explained!

"I know that this looks like rain, but this radar is so sensitive, what you are seeing are bugs and dirt."

That's right, bugs and dirt. And I was not imagining things, as he repeated it. And BikeHubby heard it too. Bugs and Dirt. So forgive me if I do not believe ANYTHING that our weathermen say.

Which brings me to last night. The forecast said that the day would be partly cloudy, with some sun (being redundant, repeating themselves, saying things over and over again?), with a chance of rain in the evening. There were some clouds, but that doesn't really mean a lot.

So I went riding. Road riding. I figured that if I went mountain biking and got lost and it really started to rain.....well, there might be an issue. But road riding.....now I KNOW I won't get lost. And I didn't! What I did get was stuck in a torrential downpour when I was at the farthest point from my car, with no chance of the storm letting up in the immediate future. So I rode. Hard. Fast. My average speed was my highest yet, at over 18 mph for the hour and a half that I rode. Once I got in the rain, I figured that if I kept my speed above 20, then I might ride fast enough to get out of the storm. And I did! And hit dry pavement, which, if I were dry, would have made a difference, but since I was so wet that I was leaving a trail......well, it was just nice to know that my tires wouldn't spin out from under me.

And I have to say, I love riding in the rain. Not a cold rain, but a hard rain. It is so peaceful and just amazingly fulfilling. You ought to try it some time.

When I got back to my car, I threw everything inside, jumped in the car and headed home. I got home in time for the storm to catch up to me....and it rain through most of the night.

Good thing I didn't stop to wait it out.

Pedal, pedal, pedal!

Alone, not Lonely

2005-08-29T11:02:00.000-05:00

I ride alone a lot. I like to ride alone and no, I don't feel lonely. Most of the time, that is. If there is a strong headwind and I have no one to draft, then boy, do I feel lonely. Almost lonely enough to drag someone out of their house and pay them to run in front of me. But usually, I don't get lonely. How can I? I have dogs trying to run me down, possible bears chasing me in the woods, porcupines blocking the trail in protest, giant trucks trying to run me off the road. How on earth would I have time to be lonely??

I did a nice ride on Saturday, right out of the house on some of the best trails in Vermont. BikeHubby and some of the 'boys' drove to Burke to ride the Kingdom Trails and he raved for hours on how great the trails were. I can't wait to try them out.

I, on the other hand, went out by myself - starting temp was 58 degrees. I practiced riding up and down some different single track, trying figure 8s in small places, going up and over obstacles- I never thought I would turn into a mountain biker. And there I was, concentrating on executing a turn in between some trees. I really thought that road riding was the end all and be all for me, but there is something satisfying about grinding up a steep climb, over big rocks, through dirt, and getting to the top, only to be faced with a technical decent, high burm turns, and mud holes.

Lonely? No way. I've got my bike and most of the time, it is better company than most people!

Pedal, pedal, pedal!

GPS

2005-08-26T07:01:00.000-05:00

Some people have told me that I should get a GPS. That it would be a way for me NOT to get lost. I always get lost. Especially mountain biking. Almost all my adventures consist of me getting lost, then leading to other adventures. Last night was no exception.

It was supposed to be a quick ride (like an hour), because BikeHubby and I had someone coming over. So BikeHubby goes off on his trails and I decide to do a quick out-back on snowmobile trails (with a special single track thrown in that BikeHubby built especially for me). Off I go, no problem, find my way just fine and even hook up with BikeHubby on the special single track. We parted ways at the head of the single track so that I could just return the way I came and BikeHubby could take some other narly trails.

Did anyone ever notice that things look different when you encounter them from another direction? Well......I ended up going down the wrong snowmobile trail. They all look alike. So when I figured out that it was the wrong trail, I turned around, came back up it, and continued until I recognized something. Then I turned around and took another trail. One I hadn't taken before. So I thought. IT WAS THE SAME FREAKIN' TRAIL THAT I HAD TURNED AROUND ON. Blonde moment, I guess. Back up the hill, back to the place where I recognized something, turned around and took a different trail. Riding along and come around the corner to see some animal in the middle of the trail. Huh. A porcupine! You know, they are very cute, but you know you don't want to get too close and here this bugger was, standing in the middle of the trail, with no really easy way around him.

"Say, bud, could you please move off the trail?"
"UNK UNK UNK" Porky grunted.
"Look, I really need to get home and you are in the middle of the trail. I just want to get by. Could you move to the side a bit?"
"UNK UNK UNK"
"Ah, come on! Please?"
Porky held his head down and looked to his left, where apparently he thought that the terrain looked better than where he was. Unking all the way, Porky waddled over to the side of the trail, puffing himself up to make sure I understood that he meant business.
"Thank you." I told him, as I went past.

To my left, I saw a trail that looked a little familiar, so I took it. And ended up near a neighbor's house, with no way to get through the bushes to the neighbor's house, with the trail coming to a halt in the bushes. Back I went and took another fork. Ended up at a different end of the bushes at the neighbor's house, this time dead ending into a tree. Obviously I was on a deer run (not sure why it looked familiar), and deer don't really care about making their trails accessible by mountain bikers. Go figure.

I finally find another snowmobile trail, follow it for awhile and realize that I AM ON THE SAME STINKIN' SNOWMOBILE TRAIL THAT I HAD GONE DOWN TWICE BEFORE AND KNEW WASN'T THE RIGHT ONE. Well, to heck with it. I figured that eventually, it had to come out somewhere, so I continued down the path, around some fallen trees and finally came out near a pasture of which I knew the location. From there it was an easy path home.

Upon my arrival, BikeHubby was riding around in circles in the driveway. He saw me, jumped off his bike and yelled Thank Goodness You Are OK!!! Huh? I arrived at home no more than 20 minutes after he did, it wasn't even NEAR getting dark, and he knew that I always get lost at least once. I told him that if this is all it takes to worry and work him up, then we need a divorce, cuz he is going to die of a heart attack very, very soon.

Ah, biking. Never a dull moment.

Pedal, pedal, pedal!!

It is in the air

2005-08-23T06:56:00.000-05:00

In February and March of this year, as ski season started winding down, talk turned to biking and all the plans that sat on the horizon. Now, as the weather is turning cooler, and fall begins to fill the air, talk has turned to skiing. It is funny, really, to hear everyone talk after a bike ride.

"Nice Ride, huh?"
"Yep. You get your season pass to Killington this year?"
And the talk begins. The best runs, the revamp of the single chair at Mad River, the fact that no place beats Ascutney after a big dump. No friends and no family on a powder day. And they are coming up fast! And now, I have a new helmet light to use while night riding and skiing......Ah, fall....when a young woman's thoughts turn to skiing.....

A friend of ours, who is an avid cyclist, has just gotten his wife a mountain bike. He decided to take her on a Class 4 road, thinking that it was no big deal - just like riding on pavement- And it isn't a big deal. To HIM. To her, the road is filled with hazards. Rocks, sticks, holes.....all potential falls. She went over the handlebars three times. Three times. And not because she was trying to get used to disc brakes, either. By the time they reached the halfway point in their ride, she had had enough. It just so happened that they were turning around in a small nearby town, which was filled with people stopping by the local general store on their way home from work. She marched into the store and shouted "WHO IS GOING TO TAKE ME HOME? I AM NOT GETTING BACK ON THAT BIKE, ESPECIALLY NOT WITH HIM!" She was given a ride home and informed her husband that she was never riding with him again. It is difficult for hard-core riders to understand beginners - Bad equipment and bad teachers = unhappy bikers.

So I have entered the tween time - excited about skiing, excited about biking, depressed that real biking is almost over, not depressed it is almost over..... And tonight, having a relaxing mountain bike ride.

Pedal, pedal, pedal!

Cars + Bikes = Problems

2005-08-16T12:12:00.000-05:00

Share The Road

Is that so hard to understand? Now I am completely on board with the people who get annoyed at bikers who ride three across, who do not obey traffic signals- you know the ones. I am not one of those. I use a mirror on my helmet and, if I am riding next to Hubby, keep an eye out for cars coming and move into a single file line when necessary. I ride close to the edge of the road, or at least as close as I can safely. I stop for stop signs, stop lights, and use hand signals when I turn.

The one thing that I do not do is back down when a car or truck tries to take me out. As Hubby says, one of these days, I am going to be dead right, instead of just right. I know, I shouldn't mess with large machines powered by engines, when I am on a lightweight little bike, but I just think that if you are going to try to take me out, you should have the balls to do it without having to use a car. You should come to me face to face, tell me your beef, and we can work it out. But how cowardly are you to try and run me off the road and then give me the finger?

I know there are asshole bikers out there, but come on people. I pay for those roads, too and I deserve to get my share.

Honeymoon in Burlington

2005-08-08T08:10:00.000-05:00

Everytime we take a trip somewhere, anywhere, Hubby refers to it as a 'honeymoon'. And inasmuch as we have only been married for five months, I guess he isn't far off. So this last weekend, our honeymoon was spent in Burlington, exploring the bike paths; to be more exact, the Champlain Bikeway and the various islands in the area. We decided to only take our road bikes, which we should have known was a mistake!

The trip up was uneventful, with Hubby sitting shotgun and reading maps as we meandered up the State. We made one side trip on the way up, to the floating bridge, where I drove the car back and forth across the bridge while Hubby snapped pictures. When he was a kid, he has a memory of the family going across the bridge, towing a trailer, I think, and his mother going nuts because the water was coming way up the side of the car. It really is a floating bridge and your wheels sink into the water as you cross. Kind of cool, I thought.

So after that, we went to Burlington, checked into our hotel, and went to bed early so that we could be out the door early. Good intentions.....We finally parked at Airport Park around 9sih, unloaded our bikes and Hubby proceeded to rip out the stem from his tube as he was trying to fill it. Oops. But off we were, down the bike path, exploring our little hearts out on our road bikes. The first leg, however, was mostly dirt, being out onto the causeway. The interesting portion of the ride came mid-causeway, when we realized that there was a big section of causeway that was not going to be completed so that the boats could go through. Instead, they have set up a bike ferry, taking people back and forth. It really was a neat experience, although if you were in a hurry or on a training ride, this would not be the way to go.

We stopped for lunch in South Hero, sitting at a table near the water. As we were seated and eating, two couples asked if they could share our table. No problem. They were a bit loud, but what the heck. So I am happily munching my sandwich and potato chips (sneaking a taste of the carmel nut cake when I thought Hubby wasn't looking) when an interesting conversation breaks out between one of the couples. Now let me preface this by saying that I am quite sure that they knew we were both bikers, albeit we could be or strangely dressed tourists who like to wear bike helmets while we drive.

Woman: You know [insert name of person here]? Do you know that she comes home from work and goes biking!
Man: Huh.
Woman: She doesn't even like to cook or anything!
Man: Doesn't like to cook? (as if he was completely thrown by the idea that someone, somewhere, doesn't like to cook.) Woman: That's right! [insert pause for effect]"but she always was weird. Kind of strange, you know?

At that point, we were finished with lunch and left shortly thereafter. And then Hubby turns to me and says "Wow, that woman could have been talking about you. Except that you do like to cook." Hmm. She was always a little weird = Me. And this is from MY HUSBAND. I was thinking about pushing him into the lake, but realized that he was paying for the hotel. So I nixed that idea.

We continued on our ride, and at one point, Joe mentioned that we should see when the bike ferry closes down, so that we can make it back in time. It would only add about another 15 miles to the ride, but given the fact that we had already ridden over 75 miles at that point, I didn't want to think about it. It closed at 6 p.m., and we had about 1 1/2 hours to get back, so we should be fine. Then there were those two wrong turns we took. Oops. In the last section before the ferry, I think that we ran two small children and an older woman on a recumbant bike off the road, but hey, I NEEDED to get to that ferry. We made it with 15 minutes to spare. Whew. And to add to the interesting nature of the ride, as we are riding back across the causeway, we see two bikes lying by the side, with no one to be seen. Curious as we are, we glance around to see if maybe they are fishing, or watching the water.....uh, no, they were buck NEKKID down on one of the rocks. A guy and a girl. BUCK NEKKID. And, um.....well......checking each other for ticks, I guess. And families walk by there.

So that was our 85 mile adventure for the day!

The next day, we kicked ourselves because we didn't bring our mountain bikes with us. And there was Catamount, with all the bike trails, just up the road. Oh, well. We walked around a bit, then headed home.

Nothing like a bike honeymoon to keep things alive!

Choices

2005-08-05T10:05:00.000-05:00

So, on hot days it works better to road ride, because you get a breeze from moving faster. However, sometimes the woods are cooler, so it makes sense to mountain bike. On these hot and humid days, sometimes it makes more sense to sit in a cool house and have a beer. That is what I opted to do yesterday.

The only outing I went on was to drive Hubby to the local (and I use the term loosely; 45 minute drive = local) bike shop to fix his derailleur. When he went mountain biking, he caught a stick and WHAMMMO.....bent derailleur and hanger. To top off his ride, there was a big branch across one of the stone walls, so he tried to move it. It was too long, so he decided to break it, hitting it on the stone wall. Hit #2 resulted in a piece of the branch coming back and hitting him. Taught him that branches may be tougher than they appear. So he showed up from his ride with blood streaming down his face and a bent derailleur.

We drove over the Alps and on our way back, we saw a guy struggling up the other side, helmet undone (per Hubby: That's so when he wrecks, he doesn't get his helmet scratched.) . The problem was that he wasn't even to the steep part of the hill.....but it is all good.

Heat and Humidity = Some of my worst enemies! But the fun part of the trip over to the bike shop is that we picked out a helmet light for me so that I can still ride when it gets dark early! And cross country ski! wahoo!

Pedal Pedal Pedal Y'all.

The Demons

2005-08-03T08:34:00.000-05:00

I was haunted yesterday. The demons were louder than normal, screaming for my attention. We all have those days when the demons seem to surround us, choking us and cloaking us in darkness. They can be overwhelming, making us believe that our problems are so overwhelming that they cannot possibly be addressed. The demons were there last night as I left work. One around my neck, others crowding around my body, all whispering that I hadn't gotten everything done that was asked of me; that Sister-in-law's invitation to Hubby's ex-wife to her party, without telling us, was somehow my fault; that I was not only below expectation at work, but at home. The Demons were in their element and growing louder and stronger.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I could hear the whispering that told me that I didn't want to ride; I can't ride very well, after all, so why try? True, I thought, but I enjoy it..... But, the whispering continued, don't you want to just lock yourself in the house and be alone? Have a drink or two? Wallow in your misery? As I sat outside my house, I thought YES. I want to wallow in my misery. I want to be alone. I don't want to ride. The Demon held tighter around my throat. And then I heard it. Faint, but there. Pedal, Pedal, Pedal

Well, I thought, I know I suck, but I am in my car and my bikes are there, so what will it hurt to hop on the bike and go for a short ride. The Demons were not happy with this and their whispering got louder. WHY RIDE? You know you can't ride. You know that no one wants to ride with you.....

But from somewhere, came the same Pedal, Pedal, Pedal

I changed my clothes and got on my bike. It seemed heavier, what with all the Demons crowded onto the handlebars, around my neck and over my eyes. It was hard to see. But there I was, pedaling. Riding. The Demons held tighter.

I rode along, not really warmed up, thinking about all of the Demons in my life. The ones around my neck. The ones that cut off my air and make me feel like nothing is worth it. As I rode, I started to notice that the handlebars were not as heavy. One of the Demons had apparently fallen off - I could see it behind me, gaining, so I rode faster, until I couldn't see it anymore. I started up the long climb of what is affectionately known in our area as The Alps. It is a hard climb. And it takes concentration. Every bump in the road, every pothole, every branch must be seen. Concentration. Pedal, Pedal, Pedal

As I neared the top, I noticed that some of the other Demons had fallen off. They were nowhere to be seen. On the downhill, I picked up speed, paying careful attention to the road before me. It is a winding road and narrow, so concentration must be maintained. For a minute, I forgot that the Demons were tugging at me.

The rest of the way home was relatively flat, even slightly downhill. Pedal, Pedal, Pedal I pushed myself, conscious of the tightened grip that the remaining Demons had on my body. They whispered loudly, trying to break me from my concentration, but all I could see was the road. The Demons' grips loosened. Pedal, Pedal, Pedal The music from this mantra filled my brain and my body Pedal, Pedal, Pedal I pushed harder. I drove harder. Pedal, Pedal, Pedal The Demons could no longer maintain their grip. The remaining ones fell hard onto the rough tar road and I could hear them screaming in anger, but that quickly faded. Pedal, Pedal, Pedal

And I was flying Pedal, Pedal, Pedal over the street, my bike not touching the ground. A smile lit up my face, as I tapped my fingers to the rhythm of flight Pedal, Pedal, Pedal.

It took mere moments to return to my car and I doubt whether my feet touched the ground for the remainder of the night.

When the Demons threaten to overtake you, remember Pedal, Pedal, Pedal

"Riding is about rhythm and flow. It's the wind in your face and the challenge of hammering up a long hill. It's the reward at the top and the thrill of a high-speed descent. Biking lets you come alive both in body and spirit. After awhile the bike disappears beneath you and you feel as if you're suspended in midair" Gary Klein

"When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking." - Arthur Conan Doyle

Adventures in Biking

2005-07-29T12:18:00.000-05:00

Today, on my way home from work, I was listening to NPR, which had a story about a man and his girlfriend who were killed by a Kodiak bear. Apparently, a documentary about this man was being done and the producer/director was talking about hearing the tape which existed of the bear killing these two people. The video camera was left on, but with the camera lens on, so there was just this audio file of these people's death. On top of that, I had just finished reading an article about how bear sightings were up in Vermont.

I tell you this for a reason, of course.

So as I set out on my mountain biking adventure by myself, I had visions of BEAR ATTACK in the back of my mind. Fortunately, most of the trails are well lit and open, making it difficult to surprise a bear. However, there is one part of the trail which takes you into a dark, grey and gloomy area of forest. An area with a lot of little hills and places for bears to hide. And this is also an area in which the trail is easy to lose. Really easy to lose if you happen to be a person with NO sense of direction. None. Nada. I was 25 before I finally remembered that the sun sets in the West. Or east. I am pretty sure it isn't the north or south. I think. Anywhoooo, here I am, wandering in the forest, with no houses in the general vicinity, and my imagination (which is highly active in blase situations) is on High Alert. I am quite sure that there is a bear around every tree and every hill. I am wondering how long it will take Hubby to find my bear-torn body. I am hoping that the bear doesn't damage my bike. I am trying to remember if I should climb a tree or not and if I climb a tree, how I can still hold onto my bike. I wander, I sweat, I panic......I FIND THE TRAIL!! Allelujiah. Whew.....well, maybe not. In front of me is a snowmobile bridge that I have to cross and on the other side of that, the grass has grown so high, it is way over my head. I hate that. But, at least I can see a big, open field of grass in the near distance, and I plunge into the grass. As I reach the other side of the grass, a loud crash comes from the pond and marshy area to my left. Not a bounce, like a deer, but a tromping crashing lumbering sound of A BEAR.....

I push my bike, yelling at the top of my lungs and head toward the top of the open field. As I reach the top, I look back, expecting to face the teeth of the rampaging bear. I yell louder as I turn and come face to face with......nothing. I look toward the pond and see some of the cattail leaves still moving, but no sign of any life. Then I realize that I am fairly close to some homes and half expect to see people charging the hillside with guns drawn, as I am sure that I sounded like I was being murdered. I hop on my bike and pedal furiously down the trail, hoping to be out of sight when the Calvary arrives. And wondering if I killed the animal by scaring it to death.

I love mountain biking.

The Hatfields and McCoys. The Sheep and Cattle Wars. WWII. And now,

2005-07-27T09:37:00.000-05:00

Now, let me introduce to you the War of the Landowners and Bikers.

Mountain biking. The statement may bring to mind a few visions - riding on a very clean, almost pavement-like path through the woods, nothing very steep, time to look around and notice what you are riding through. Or you may be more familiar with a double track, littered with a few branches, maybe a log or two, some rocks here and there, some steepness, but with a lot of room for maneuvering. And then there are those whose mind can only envision a single track in the forest, with trees close enough that one must learn to jog their handlebars or choose to have a snack of bark, steep rocky sections, deep mud holes that grab onto the wheel of your bike and send you into the depths of it's sludge......The point being that it's all good.

In some places, public land is abundant and trails are easy to find and ride. You might have to pay a fee, but it usually isn't astronomical and it is well worth the price. In Vermont, almost every single piece of land is owned, with the boarders usually questionable at best. Owner A LOVES mountain bikers and says "Go Forth and Make Trail". What isn't clear is where Owner A's land ends and if it is ok to go along the snowmobile trail even when you know it goes over Owner B's land. I figure, as a landowner myself, that Landowners have every right to control and maintain their property, even if it interrupts my mountainbiking.

What I cannot stand, however, is gutless, whiney people who will not take responsibility for themselves and their decisions. Case and point: Hubby, myself and countless other mountain bikers have been using these carriage trails for years. No problems. Then Landowner 1 from CA, who doesn't live here and visits RARELY comes to town, walks the property and decides to close the carriage trails to everyone. This closure includes Landowner 2, whose property abuts Landowner 1. Now Landowner 2 runs a business in which he takes people on carriage rides through the forest, and he had previously used these carriage trails, with Landowner 1's permission, for many, many years. Landowner 1 has put up fences and signs and no one can get in touch with him. Time passes (about 4 months) and Hubby sees a lot of mountain bike tracks going around the CLOSED sign. Figures that someone is going to see them and get pissed, so in a twisted, "I want to help my buddies" kind of way, he makes a secret trail down from the CLOSED sign and tells a few people, including "Trail Leaders" (see: Men who believe that they are in control of all trails in Vermont and like to pretend that they have lots of power when, in fact, they have none. See also: Overcompensation.) who thought the trail was a GREAT IDEA! Fast forward to Landowner 2 FINALLY getting in touch with Landowner 1. Landowner 1 tells 2 that the reason that he closed the carriage trail is because there was a mountain bike trail made down the way from it and he doesn't want mountain bikes on his property. Landowner 2 gets pissed and decides that if he tells 1 that he hates mountain bikes, too, 1 will like the brown-nosing and open up the carriage trails to him again. Hubby tells L2 that L1 is lying - there was no trail there prior to the closure and why doesn't the guy just have the balls to say I don't want people on my property, instead of blaming someone else? L2, although he believes Hubby, says that well, I just hope that he lets me back on the property and I figure that if I have to cut everyone else out, then that is what I have to do. The Trail Leaders, both of whom knew about the secret trail built after the closure, and both of whom had ridden their bikes AROUND THE CLOSED SIGN, now tell Hubby that being cut out of L2's trails was solely his fault. Um, I DON'T THINK SO.

L1: Why the hell do you have to lie? Can't you just say I don't want people on my property? Take responsibility for your decision and if it pisses off your neighbor, to whom you originally gave permission to be on your property, then so be it. DON'T BLAME PEOPLE FOR YOUR DECISIONS, ASS.

L2: You freakin' brown-nosing idiot. Same goes for you. Just fess up, say you have made a decision. The fact that you bow down to people like that just shows me the kind of person you are.

Tail Leaders: You guys suck most of all, because you fail to take responsibility for your part in this debacle. Hubby says he is sorry for building that trail, yet you both knew about it, used it, and went around the closed sign yourselves. And now, you are both acting like little children, snubbing both of us and leaving us out of rides, just so you can pretend that you didn't fall off your high and mighty thrones.

Sometimes, people really piss me off.

Bulky Bikers Unite!

2005-07-26T07:35:00.000-05:00

So, as I stated before, I am not the wispy twig of a woman who cycles professionally. I am not someone you would see walking down the street and say "Wow, she is so tiny, she is either a jockey or a cyclist." I try to eat healthy and eat for biking, but you can't just expect me to go without a Bombay Sapphire martini (with three olives) and a side of good chocolate, can you? I love biking, but I gotta live! And while watching the tour, I was struck by the fact that a lot of those guys, while 5 inches taller than I, were no more than 5 pounds heavier. Some, in fact, were skinnier. I always said that a man should not look better in a dress than me nor should he weigh less. Just a rule that I like to embrace.

Yesterday, Hubby's Bicycling magazine arrived. I started paging through it and got to the Editor's comments, during which he talked about not having a 'cyclist's body'. And how, when he would tell people he was the editor for Bicycling magazine, some would seem surprised at how...."large" he was. Then I turned to page 44 and an article about Bulky Bikers. People who enjoy bike riding, but don't have the biker's body, as well as people for whom biking was really a last shot at taking control of their weight. And it made me both happy and sad - the man who has been called names while riding; the man who admired a rider's bike at a biking event and was put down by the rider because he was large; the comment that roadies are basically jerks. A comment I can't dispute for the most part, especially pertaining to Women Roadies.

I bike because I love it, not because it makes me better than anyone, in a different class, or because everyone else does it. And I love to see people on bikes, laughing and talking or riding like they are in the final time trial of the Tour. I love to see the different types of people, types of bikes, and different riding attitudes. That is what makes biking great and different from almost every other sport- Anyone can do it and anyone can love it.

So hats off to the Bulky Bikers of the World and remember, keep the shiny side up!

Yes, I'm a GIRL.

2005-07-25T07:45:00.000-05:00

So, now the Tour is over. And football season hasn't begun. So now what am I supposed to do evenings? Bake? Sew? Clean? Finish mudding the drywall in the cellar?

I made that comment this weekend, at the Harpoon BBQ Contest and was greeted with a "And you're a girl?" I am learning that even in this day and age (I sound like my grandmother....), a woman who rides, skis, and likes football is viewed as a little off. I suppose that they find it weird that

Hubby made the comment to his Biker Buddies that we were riding with that he finished his Honey-Do list. They were all laughing and wondered how he managed to finish his already, when he had been riding all morning, while they were dreading going home. He explained that his Honey-Do List consists of one thing: Take Biker Wife Riding (or Skiing, depending on the season). Anything else...well, he 's a grown-up. He knows what needs to be done in the house so that we don't live in a pig sty or so that it doesn't fall down around our ears. If I don't get to it, I am sure that he will. He knows how to do laundry. He knows how to "cook" (Honey, do you want me to cook tonight?, he says, as he holds the Pizza Chef menu in one hand and the phone in the other.). Hubby goes to bike rides and listens to the moaning and groaning....."She thinks I'm spending too much time on the bike." "She says she needs some time with me." "She told me I had 2 hours for a ride and then I had better be home." I knew (and these women knew) what they were getting when they got involved with these Bikies, yet they are somehow disappointed, while I love the fact that I don't get hassled for staying out riding. I don't get hassled for being myself and I'm not going to hassle him.

Yup, I'm a woman. And Hubby is a man. And I really like it that way. And now I think I have come up with something to keep me busy in this 'off season'.......

The Babysitter

2005-07-22T07:03:00.000-05:00

Why is it that men believe that all women want to babysit each other? Is it the 'let's all go to the bathroom together' syndrome that some women feel compelled to participate in? There are times that Hubby will invite a couple up to the house to go biking or skiing for the weekend. And inevitably, the Other Hubby and Wife expect that I am going to be there to entertain the wife. Give up my biking or my skiing so that I can discuss how well Johnny is doing in school and how he is SURE to do wonderfully on his SATs, or how that sale at [insert store name here] was DIVINE and how the sweaters match her eyes. Hubby makes it clear to everyone that my time on the bike or skis is as important to me as it is to the guys. But until they meet me, they apparently don't believe it. And neither do the women.

Usually, when I come downstairs first thing in the morning with bike clothes on, I get "YOU'RE going riding, TOO??", with a little pout attached. That is when I say, 'yes' - I am sure that Hubby told you that I ride and would be riding. "Well, yes", they will say, "but I didn't REALLY think you WOULD."

I guess that is what they get for thinking. I'm not your freakin' significant other's babysitter. If you can't entertain your partner, don't look to me to do it.

Ego on Two Wheels

2005-07-19T18:47:00.000-05:00

We have a friend, who has a house down the road from us. An acquaintance, really, although my hubby calls him a 'friend'. Amazing what a man calls a friend nowadays. This guy thinks that he is much better at EVERYTHING than he really is. He is putting on an addition to his house, I believe, because when his girlfriend comes over it is much too crowded to fit her and his ego into the home. This should make it much better.

This guy rides, both mountain and road. And thinks she is fabulous. He was over at our house once, for a BBQ, and brought his small son. There was bike racing on, but most everyone was sitting outside. He sat down with his 4 year old son and told him "See those guys? That's what Daddy does." I wanted to say, "Whose Daddy?", but didn't. Damn.

He also has an excuse for everything. Hubby went riding with him today. Hubby is doing extremely well and has improved immensely. But could Ego Man congratulate him on that? No, when Hubby kept up with Ego Man, Ego Man stopped and said that the reason Hubby could keep up was because Ego Man decided he needed new tires. Not because Hubby was riding well, but there MUST be a malfunction with Ego Man's bike. Ego Man will tell you how well he rides, how badly you ride....and he was really upset when he found out that I ride more than he does, but he did tell me that he might ride less, but he rides MUCH HARDER. Of course you do, Ego Man, of course you do.

But remember, those bike shorts show all, and I'm thinking that I know why you feel this need to inflate everything else out of proportion.

Women Roadies

2005-07-18T13:00:00.000-05:00

As I ride the roads of Vt, I found out something very interesting. Women roadies are usually quite snobby and feel as though you are intruding on THEIR territory.

Case and point: I had a flat tire. Big deal. I stopped to change the tire and while I was working on it, several bikers came by. And let me tell you that the ratio of men to women bikers are probably 10:1, so it was no surprise that the first 4 who rode past were men. And each slowed and asked if I had tools or if I needed anything - and no, they weren't acting like they were trying to pick me up, just people who know what it is like to have a flat tire. Then a woman came by, slowed down, looked at me changing the tire, then looked away from me, as if something really interesting caught her eye in the field down the road. Not a word. Not a nod. Nothing. And every time I ride, I see at least one biker, usually a guy, and usually we raise a hand to acknowledge each other. VERY RARELY do other women acknowledge me, and I don't think that it is because they require more concentration to ride than the guys. I just think that most women are catty and hate it when someone else seems to be stepping into their territory.

Good thing I am straight, otherwise I would have a tough time dating.

Observations.....

2005-07-14T09:03:00.000-05:00

People are fascinating. Especially now that the Tour has become so popular and are reaching more people than ever.

The person who bought a US Postal Trek, with matching jersey, shorts, water bottle, and helmet. Do you really believe people are stopping on the road and saying "Wow, he must be a Tour rider"? Or do you think it makes you go faster? And since US Postal doesn't exist anymore.....are you slower?

The person who watches bicycling then decides that if those guys/girls can do it, so can I. While I admire their quest to get into better shape, do I need to hear about the rough ten miles that they did last week?

The biker who rides out in the middle of the road and doesn't move over when trafffic comes by. Come on, man, I know that "we have as much right" crap, but do you think you are helping the cause? The other day, a friend of mine was riding with a group and he has the "It's My Road, Too" attitude, which requires him to ride out in the middle of the road and flip off any driver that comes too close. This time, the car that came too close happened to be a police cruiser. As my friend flipped off the cop, yelling at the top of his lungs, the others were bumming out because this guy is too good of a cyclist for them to drop him.

The driver who believes that all cyclists should be killed or institutionalized, in that order. They believe that if you are on the road, then you are doing something wrong. They will come as close to you as possible, honk (if they have an air horn, all the better). They scream at you, throw things at you.....but interestingly, I have never had one who had the guts to stop their car and confront me face to face. These drivers are all pussies and cowards. If you have a problem with my riding, stop and tell me - the fact that you need to be able to hide in a huge and powerful machine, while I have nothing but a bit of spandex and carbon fiber in between me and the road indicates what kind of a bully you are. And bullies are ALWAYS cowards.

The ego. Ah, cycling. Not for the faint of heart or for those with egos bigger than their tire pump. Remember, boys, those shorts let us see EVERYTHING, so maybe you should put your ego away.

The TOUR!

2005-07-13T12:56:00.001-05:00

Okay, so not only do I like to suffer ON my bicycle, I like to watch OTHER PEOPLE suffer on theirs.

It is a sickness. A disease. Guys whose partners won't let them watch 3 or more hours of biking almost every day end up at our house, drinking beer, and discussing road riding strategies.

Bicycle racing is not just a matter of hopping on your bike and going really, really fast (although let's face it: going really, really fast can be a boon in some types of bicycle racing), for these types of long, extended races. There is strategy involved. Who attacks and when. Where they attack. Do you respond to the attack? What race are you running: The King of the Mountain? The Best New Rider? Best Sprinter? The OVERALL Winner????

I know, I'm pathetic in so many ways. But tonight, I am watching bike racing, taking some Vitamin I and drinking beer.

What are you doing?

Mountain Bruises

2005-07-13T10:16:00.000-05:00

I have been off my bike for 7 days. My mountain bike, that is. And boy, does your fitness level drop like a sprinter on the first hill climb. And here I was feeling full of myself because of the nice 71 miles I did on Sunday. Nothing like REALITY smacking you right between the eyes!

It was a nontechnical ride, though, so I figured that I should be fine. HA! The hills of Vermont take no prisoners. We were doing some of the trails that are at the end of the Vermont 50, ending by going down a road which passes by the Mt. Ascutney Ski Lodge. The guys ahead of me (one my husband), yelled out for me to beware of the deep ruts that resulted from the mammoth amount of water that has fallen from the sky this year. I had never ridden on those trails or roads, so they were pointing out things that they knew existed and felt compelled to warn me about.

NO PROBLEM, I thought, as I navigated the deep ruts on my right, flying down the road, thinking that 'Hey, it's a road. No problem.' And as I lay on the ground, after my front tire being caught in a rut which was hiding in a small pile of grass, unable to take a breath, and listening to my husband yell "THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I DON'T WANT YOU TO MOUNTAIN BIKE!", I thought, note to self: never underestimate the terrain.

I have a few new bruises, and what I think might be a partially torn groin muscle, however, the bruises kind of set off my road rash on my elbow. Thank goodness the people at work know that I mountain bike, or my husband might be in jail!

He Ain't Gonna Be Getting Any Tonight.

2005-07-10T16:36:00.000-05:00

It isn't like I am one of those women who is underweight or have a 'biker's body'. I have breasts (a 'C' cup, thank you very much), I have hips. I am not someone who you would peg as a rider, unless you could see my calves and my thighs, which are very muscular. And I admire people who get on their bikes and ride, especially if you are fairly overweight, as a road bike is torture when you are in shape, nevertheless dragging an extra 50 pounds with you.

Today, I did a nice 71 mile lollipop (up and back with a loop on one end), which took me over some rather tough hills in Vermont. As I rode down the other side of the road, by what used to be the estate of Calvin Coolidge, I saw a string (or is that a gaggle) of riders coming up the other side, all who were with Bike Vermont Tours. They were coming up in groups of two to five, mostly men. There were, however some women sprinkled into the mix, all but one of whom looked like they were on the verge of ripping apart their bike and the person who talked them into biking in Vermont, into itty bitty pieces and then flush them down the toilet. One woman, who was grossly overweight and overdressed, was following behind this guy who looked like he was really having a nice time. She looked miserable. And angry. And I wondered who in their right mind would think that a bike tour in Vermont, IN JULY, would be a great vacation for someone who was obese. Don't they ask the weight question on their applications? Doesn't the guy she is with HAVE A CLUE? Well, if he didn't have a clue then, I am betting he will have a clue later on-

My ride was great and I felt terrific. Nothing like endorphins to make your day a bit more pleasant.