okay, Im' comin' home

the 28th.

Pick me up at the airport?

When we ridin'?

F#*& it

No bike to Texas. Less time in Texas. Been crazy stressed out.

Stressed you guys, I'm goin' home and ridin'.

Stupid bike transportation costs and hassles.

Next time, road trip.

Yeah, I know, slacker!

Uh, I started working, dating, riding, living in general, but I'm back, sort of.

My sister's got 70 acres, my daddy's got tractors and stuff, and my nephews have dirt bikes. We're going to build a dirt course out there. I need something to do for 19 days. Stay turned for pics and reports starting next week (or sooner).

As the Wheel Turns

Cycling has its own cycles, even in semi-non-seasonal NorCal. My cycle was disrupted for me, being it was dirt season. Now it's my road season, and it is a good season.

I miss my dirt buddies. I miss my road buddies, too. My favorites are all married away, moved away, stopped riding, or got too fast for me. That's always part of the cycle, too.

This last week or so I've been spinning for a couple of hours, messing around with going as slow as possible and keeping a solid balanced spin. Just me and the old bike. No expectations, no other people's speeds, routes, or training plans to worry about. Just the bike. Just me. Feeling it out. Feeling what hurts the chest, what doesn't. Good news is it's no longer bad pain, just irritating when I jump out of the saddle for a standing climb. I've been looking at the world around the ride, and I live in a damn beautiful place.

Being forced to slow down was good for me. That's part of my cycle, too. No matter what I do to try to control my ride time, I eventually over-do it, ignore that I'm tired, then fall down stairs or something else, like impaling myself on a section I usually would have been fine on.

Performance-orientation can be so dangerous: it's weird, the same time I was knocked down a peg on my bike, my grades stopped being A's on my assignments, and went to A-. I'd been powering through the work, absorbing everything. I was powering through my workouts, forcing myself past exhaustion, ignoring minor crashes as signs of fatigue. Then, boom. Out for the count, and my brain doesn't want to learn anymore.

It's the time-out part of the cycle. I'm not getting paid for any of this. And the payout seems to be pain.

I'm not a natural, and that's okay. Everyone I ride with is faster than me, and that's okay, too. However, the A- grades need to be brought back up. I can't suck at everything I do, after all.

Is it Wrong to Still Want to Do It?

Two strange men got to see my breasts today. And they were paid for it. Since I tried to impale myself on Stumpy's bars at Northstar on Saturday, I've had a very disturbing pain in my chest. So I decided to go on down to Doctors on Duty and see if I had a broken rib or something.
Funny, when it happened, my first thought was to go see the medic to check if I could keep riding. My second thought was to invest in body armor. Allie had lent me a full-face helmet that day, so of course I took it in the chest, not the face. I went down on terrain similar to this, I messed up at the bottom of a small rock drop:



Besides the usual checks of temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, I received tender compressions all over my chest, comparing the pain in my right breast to my left (that's a visual for Jimbo in case he stops by), stuff stuck to my chest, arms, and legs for the EKG, and a chest X-Ray. I have never seen my ribs, lungs, and heart before. It was pretty cool. Unfortunately, It looks like I swallowed my Heart Rate Monitor:



Turns out it's just soft tissue damage. It hurts like a !^%$*( &^$%*!, though. I'm not supposed to fall down until it's healed. I am also supposed to do deep breathing exercises so my lungs get some action. Each breath hurts. A lot. So does laughing. I guess I need to stop being funny for a week or two and make an effort to only hang out with really serious people. And I plan to be just on the road bike for at least this week. Poor Stumpy isn't made for Northstar. Her Matchmaker got cracked. Any day now the part that keeps the shifters and brakes on could go. Sigh.
I want a bigger bike. The spending never ends, does it?

I'm so dirty

It's been a lot lately. All kinds of dirt. Downieville dirt, Northstar dirt, UCSC dirt. And today I got water in my ear, too.

The Stumpy's been hitting it hard. Ride three was up and over loose rock, loose dirt, and next to scary ass drops in Downieville. She climbed a little, descended a lot, and went over crazy rocks.

Ride five she went up chair lifts and descended down super loose dirt, swooped up into the air a little, and crashed me on my face. No blood, just a scrape. New love for Northstar, oh yeah.

I'm getting a full-face helmet.

Ride six was actually near my house. A group, learning to do jumps. I flailed, but I know what I need to do, now. Start small to get the body English wired. Combining an uncomfortable speed with unfamiliar technique is too hard for me. Besides, I don't like learning in front of an audience, no matter how cool they are about my learning curve. I learned to snowboard like that. Lessons didn't help, poor ex-boyfriends suffered frustrated rants until I figured out I needed to teach myself on almost flat terrain how the board moves before I let gravity take over. I've never been a physical prodigy. New things that can hurt you are hard for me to learn.

Thanks to you all who have been so cool lately: Devil-D who let us stay at his home last weekend, Alex for encouraging me, even though I was scared, Dave for the b-day cake, Nic for the bell, Chris for suggesting Northstar, Caroline for my birthday oatmeal, Thomas for taking me helmet shopping. Cool people make the ride more fun.

July Fourth. Too many parties. Parties are usually good, but my homework is killing me. Tomorrow will be hell, because I know I am going to be bad tonight.

Because They're There

Hitting the Books

I just studied for five hours. I haven't been in college for ten years.

It's kind of fun, but, wow, I've forgotten how to study efficiently.

How long until I start to remember the short cuts?
Ah, it's okay - I'm going to Downievillle tomorrow. Gonna' ride my new steed where she deserves to be ridden.
...And I was able to answer all of the review questions. That's right, I know everything.

Hamster Wheel

Sometimes I feel like I am the victim of too much information.

Not the gross kind, where someone graphically describes their bowel movement without provocation, or the disenheartening kind, when the object of an intense infatuation describes in endless detail their fascination for someone else.

Religion, science, love, hate, virtue, selfishness, self care, cruelty, wood, glass, materially identifying ourselves with clothing, cars, handshakes, and the image we hope to promote: all choices.

At times I feel the draw of the easiness of simply going insane, or becoming a nun, or just walking out of this reality into another. Maybe I'll become a truck-stop waitress and live in a trailer in Needles.

The burden of responsibility and the inanity of post survival social climbing at times is simply too much.

My mother once said I should get a dog so I have a reason to go to work. Is that why people have children?

Reasons: choice theory states that everything we do is an effort to fulfill one of five basic needs. Survival, freedom, love and belonging, power and achievement, fun. General psychological malaise is the result when we perceive one or more of these needs is not getting met. And the clincher: the balance of these is different for everyone.

I am suffering from ennui. Religion is too silly to believe in, materialism is hollow, and I just want to be myself. I guess I could get a dog, but then I would have to clean up after it, and remember to come home to it, and I wouldn't be able to keep running on this mental hamster wheel.

Vet bills would get in the way of my savings for a home (can't say house when you will inevitably spend the majority of your hard-earned salary on a piece of air surrounded by the walls of an apartment they say is yours to paint inside).

Ennui is the result of fulfilling the survival need. I guess I'll have to go out and defy death on my new bike some more.

English Teachers Aren't Very Good with Mechanical Stuff...

Hi Blogger Fans!

I'm writing you from the sidewalk in front of my apartment, relishing the successful installment of my wireless router. Why is she on the side walk you ask? Well, dear reader, it is a story that begins long ago when I ordered some bike parts...

Bike building. Oh the agony and the ecstasy. Team sponsorship. Oh the payments we make when we try to save! Getting help from friends and making new foes along the way...

The good news is that she's almost done. She is being completed with loving care at by Casey of the Spokesman this very moment. I came across a stumbling block that neither I nor the ever resourceful DJ could handle at the home shop level (read: couldn't get the info we needed to complete the job without buying a bunch of mounting brackets and committing a lot of time to trial and error).

The trials of this endeavor: Front derailleurs come in all kinds of shapes, sizes, and function capabilities, I ordered the wrong one. Owner's manuals don't tell you much. Warehouse monkeys will give you three mounting brackets all identical to each other, and each inappropriate for the rotor you're trying to fit. Each person on the chain of getting things done has a different opinion, and sometimes those opinions are in conflict.

What I've learned in the end is that all decisions are truly mine, and I've done the best I can with making them. I've also learned that I need help, lots of it.

Back to the sidewalk, after learning so much about bike stuff, I've decided to take stuff apart on my car to change a light assembly.
I read the manual, got out my tools, and soon learned that in cars some places are blocked by lots of other parts. I'm waiting for a car mechanic friend to come over and save me from myself. Like I said, I need lots of help...

Tits of Steel Do It for 24 Hours

Don't tell the Hamana Hos......but Tits of Steel just wanted to race the 24 Hours of Adrenaline for fun. However, that's not the way it went...

Friday evening: set up camp and socialize with our camp mates the Velo Nerds,Google Earthlings, Team MBOSC, and our pal DJ in a phenomenal social area set up with comfy camp chairs, stoves, a keg, and a heater donated to the group by our sexy volunteer, Geo. I decided that this weekend was going to be fun, and began to enjoy my first Google sponsored pint in my commemorative glass. Our gracious sponsors Jeni and Kyle soon showed up and began to wow the crowd with BR Lights. A fun social evening. A great start.

7:00 am: crawl out of a warm tent for two monster cups of Santa Cruz Coffee Roasting Company's Fair Trade Organic Sumatra Dark Roast and two slices of Nicole's campfire toast with organic peanut butter and raw honey. It was cool to see Eve out there supporting us and Mark, since she had to drop off the team for motherly purposes.

10:00 am: We saw Caroline off to her running start, then I sat in the shade to hydrate and enjoy my final moments of rest.

2:30 pm: first lap. While I was waiting for Becky to come in, volunteer extraordinaire Geo gave me an awesome back rub (that's Nic in the photo), including pulling my shoulders out of their cyclist's slouch position with his giant man hands of steel. It was a rough and rutty dust fest out there until Hurl Hill. I regretted the high tire pressure I was running until I got to the climbs.

My hardtail scooted up the fire roads and shot me up the giant fire road whoopties in my big ring. What sucked on the ruts made those long climbs easy. A fair trade in a course with about 2000 feet of climbing. I resolved that during lap two I would power through the rough sections with a little more resolve to reduce my lap time.

Between laps one and two, I was informed that we were in second place, the Hamana Hos were first. The excitement grew and the pressure was on.

8:00 pm: My best lap. We were in second place, and the Hamana Ho sharing my lap was waiting in the transition area with me. Her teammate came in shortly before Becky; Kyle told me I'd catch the Ho on the grind, and dammit if I didn't. I passed her, then she hopped on my wheel. I swerved over and slowed, then hopped on hers. She tolerated it for the remainder of the climb. Once we hit more technical stuff, she showed a bit of apprehension, so I passed her closely on a single track. She called, “Be careful!” after I scraped by, then followed me to the bridge. I hopped off the bike, ran up the stairs and she asked me if I was going to ride down the stairs on the other side. I just kept running, then ran down the middle of the flight, my bike blocking her way. At the bottom I knew the lap was mine, because I am strongest on the flats, and that's where I took off. I finished in front of her. She found me at the transition area, and gave me a big hug for making the lap fun. Then she offered to teach me to ride stairs in the morning after the race, because she said I was a good rider and shouldn't be afraid. Jeni was standing there with a knowing smile as I thanked the competition for her offer. How could I tell her I didn't ride them because I knew it's what she wanted? I think this was the first time in my life where I felt competitive enough and strong enough to use some strategy out there. It was a new feeling for me, and I liked it.

10:30 pm: Old habits are hard to break. One and a half pints from the keg, not so bad, right? I wanted to wind down from the coffee, GU shots, and Gatorade all surging through my system. I headed to the tent, and caught very little sleep between random fits of anxiety.

1:30 am: Feeling oddly like an old shoe, I dressed in my warm cycling clothes. The best thing I can say about this lap is that BR Lights rock. The white light illuminated everything I needed to see out there, which was good, because I was delirious. I had no legs and no brain. I was caught on the grind by the tiny Ho that could. I resented her big time as I hopped on her wheel. She was making me work way harder than I wanted to. Eventually I dropped back, promising myself I would catch her soon enough. Suddenly I was alone; I saw night lights parallel to me, but maybe 500 feet up. Realizing that I was no longer on the course, I sighed and threw my bike over my shoulder to hike back up to it. I finished three minutes behind the Tiny Motorized Ho. We had been eight minutes ahead. Never have I been so bummed to have dropped off of a wheel.

7:00 am. Caroline woke me to tell me we were ten minutes ahead again, and I didn't have to do my last lap if I would let Sophie take it. In my mind I heard, “You are the weakest link. Good-bye.” I was happy to sip coffee as I warmed the bench and cheered on Nicole and Sophie as they left for the last two laps.

10:45 am: We beat the Hos by one lap. The day was sunny, and the beer relatively cool. Dance contests filled the void until the awards ceremony. We patiently awaited our podium call as we basked in the wonder of our win. The announcer called out “First place, Tits of Steel” and we jumped up to receive the glory. It was exciting to throw on the yellow jerseys, receive the first place medals, and get cheered on by the crowd. It was really cool to hold the BR Lights banner during all of the photos, and to stay on the stage for photos of just our team.

This weekend will definitely go down as one of the most awesome in my book. Geoff, Jeni and Kyle were tireless in taking care of us for the entire race. I mean, these people gave us cocoa, rubbed our shoulders, mounted our lights and cheered us on every minute of the race. DJ had gotten me a tent at the last minute, and Mark & Eve lent me their cozy sleeping bag. My teammates were so mellow, beautiful, and wonderful to race with. We took first place and made our light sponsor proud. I met more cool people with whom I hope to ride again. It was a big 24 hour love fest.

Will Tits of Steel race next year, or just go down as a one hit wonder? Who can say, but I can't help wondering, what would have happened if we had actually trained for this?

Lots going on...

Wabbit came and climbed over my balcony, onto a ledge, and saved me from freezing my ass off when I locked myself out. Thanks Wabbit.

Big Wabbit hugs for you!

I went to Dallas for a wedding. I was supposed to sleep in the same home as the teen-aged kids of the groom. Everyone trusts a teacher. During my fifth glass of wine, the 14 year-old came and said, "You're our designated driver." "Uh, does your brother has a license?" "He's got a permit." As we approached the car after bidding the new groom daddy good-bye (whom I promised the kid would not drive), I gave the kid the keys. We got lost a few times, but we made out way. Is it legal to drive a drunken adult when you have a permit?

The bike parts saga continues. only awaiting the headset at the moment. it's been any day now for a while. Spending all of this dough and waiting waiting waiting, it's just like being unemployed. No money, no cool ride. I'm ready for some new girl clothes, but I really need new pads, new helmet, and new everything so I can be brave and do new stuff while I lose less skin. At least I got a pretty dress for the wedding. If any boys want to take me out, I can show a little leg and a lot of cleavage like a real girl.

The next generation of former delinquents has graduated. It is really fun being in a small school. The graduates all had stories told about them, we whooped and hollered, and tears were shed, even on the part of school board members. Kids sang, gave speeches, and I cried like a baby as they told about where they've come from and the struggles they've overcome, how they're going to go to college. Times like that make me so proud.

Do you know where your bike parts are?

I think I do:

5/25/2007 10:31:00 AM THE DELIVERY INTERCEPT REQUEST FOR THIS PACKAGE  WAS
SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED;THE ADDRESS HAS BEEN CORRECTED. THE DELIVERY HAS BEEN RESCHEDULED SUNNYVALE, CA US

Expected:Jan. 1, 1900 12:00:00 AM 
HUH?

Waiting, waiting, waiting....

The poor UPS guy. I'm probably going to jump on him like the homemaking wife of a traveling sales guy.

One of my best friends is getting married in two weeks, in Dallas. I didn't know until two days ago. She had my latest address wrong, and the invitation was lost. Another of my friends had a showing of her movie, but I didn't know. Her hard drive had crashed, and she lost her email addresses. Whenever I see my sister, we rush to tell each other everything that's been going on in our lives. We are both so hungry for intimate female friendship.

I asked myself how did my life get this way? When I was younger, in school, friends were everything, I don't think an invitation getting lost in the mail would have prevented me from knowing about the wedding, or a crashed hard drive would have kept me from seeing the movie. My sister and I were close, we knew everything about each other.

Modern life is so hard on friendships. I know I spend my days at work, my off hours riding or taking care of some other business, then I'm tired. I don't keep in touch regularly anymore. Neither do any of my old friends.

Am I the only one that thinks something is wrong with that? Or is this freedom we have to live our own way and to roam about the country (or the globe for that matter) for a better salary or a preferred lifestyle truly the way to go? I mean, for the most part, I like the choices I've made and what I've been doing these days. But not knowing about the wedding of a friend who has been such an intimate part of my life for so long, it just really made me take a step back and look at things.

So, will I make more of an effort to call? Hmmm...I'm starting to feel sleepy again.

Ahhhhh

Sore legs. Tight back. Tight abs. Three days of dirt.

How sweet it is!

Big Bears Like Skirts

I'm down to the dregs of the laundry.

Usually I wear jeans to work. Something about bending over to help students in a skirt is just uncomfortable. Plus, I like my comfortable shoes.

But I haven't been doing my laundry. Last weekend I was at a conference and then I've just been working and riding this week. So I had to wear a skirt to work, or really gross way too recycled jeans...

So, I walk towards my classroom, and the boys all look at my legs (another thing that weirds me out, when they look at my ass in jeans at least I don't know).

After I unlock the door, a boy who is called Oso, because he actually does have the shape of a big bear, comes into my room and says, "Hey Donna, Danny say you look pretty today." I say "Marco, I think you are the one who thinks that, and now you are embarrassing Danny." "Yes Donna, you are pretty today," he said back with a red sheepish grin before he shuffled off to the right class.

Are men really that easy, or is it just hormonally challenged adolescent boys?

Envy During the Wait

Sometimes I wish I sat in front of a computer most of the day, so I could blog before work gets me tired. My boss always seems to find too much for me to do. Damn saving the world takes a lot of time...maybe I should send him this:












Then there's this whole salary issue. Over the course of building this bike, I am sooo jealous of those who don't have to wait patiently for all of the deals to come along and sponsors to send product, and blah blah blah. I know I am lucky to have the resources I do have, but damn, at my age, I could've had more dough, you know? I've been thinking a lot about the ways we pay, and when we pay. Because you've always got to pay, right? So I pay with low pay, but I get all the time off, I run my little classroom world, and, I get to feel damn good about what I do most of the time.






But I want to ride my new bike, NOW! It's not the same since I rode Jeni's bike in the Sugoi Clinic. I want my BIG FIVE INCHES NOW!!!! I want to jump and hop and drop off RIGHT NOW!!!

But will I feel this pain when the bike is done? I don't know...








And then there's the worst jealousy: all you lucky folks who have found a mate who wants to ride with you or go to races with you or even lives near you.

Just 'cause I chose to be a weirdo and make no money doing God's work doesn't mean I wanted to become a celibate nun. Just someone who I like who likes me, too. That's all I ask. Why is that so hard?

Belated Race Report

So, back like a week and a half ago when I was in Austin, I went and did this Driveway Crit.

It all began with a bit of confusion as Smith Road was divided by a highway, and I turned on the wrong side. I stopped and asked a meandering trucker with bad teeth (I was in an industrial park) if he knew where this go-kart racing track was. He spoke with a meandering drawl, put a lot of thought into it, and then decided he really couldn't help me.

So, I used the old noggin', went across the highway, and found the other side of Smith Road. From there I wound over a narrow road through Texas jungle and decided the directions would have been better if they had read, "turn left at the old woman in the moo moo on her porch, go three miles passed the folks in the trailer, and continue until you see roadies warming up." There was nothing but dense tree cover and old houses until I popped out at the race track.

I parked and then went to register. The guy at registration didn't seem to understand me when I asked about the women's categories. Seems there were none. They put me in the master's men. "So this is bike racing in other places," I thought. "Great."

I did a two second warm-up, then lined up. I saw one other woman in pink and a tall skinny person who I suspected could have been a woman, but I was not sure. We were in a pack of about 20 guys. I decided it was going to suck, but did my best to hang with the pack. I did so for about 1/4 of a lap. I am proud to say that the other two (one?) women were also dropped pretty quickly.

Since I was dropped with no hope of recovery, I decided to have a good workout and practice some racer skills. I've been reading oV's race tips, and was inspired.

Unfortunately for this guy, he was also dropped, and I was ready to practice drafting. The race track was a series of right and left turns causing a constant change in direction, and there was a constant wind, so I decided to stay on his wheel and practice moving in order to let him take the wind for me. I remember back in the team clinic days learning this sweet spot stuff, so I decided to give it a go with someone who didn't know me. He let me ride his ass for about three laps, then he dropped off the course. Dammit, I had to go it alone again. So I decided to practice cornering and picking good lines. It was fun on the race track.

Some people know I am almost always smiling for the camera in races. Notice I am not smiling here. Headwind, loneliness, and a dedication to suffer it out had me going hard. My hands also fell asleep on this bike. Why does that happen?

The biggest shame of it all was that I was lapped twice by the field. Well, the Master's men. I am a non-training Cat-4 woman. So, it was twenty minutes of zone four to zone five heart rate; I think my heart rate monitor hadn't seen numbers like that since I did my max test with a great coach .

Turns out I took third in my category. I guess there were three women out there...

I was disappointed to see so few women racing. There were a ton of them watching, or coming to pick up their men at the end of their races. Chris told me there would be women from UT there. Maybe it wasn't their night or something. Now I know why this woman and this woman work so hard to get women's racing supported and recognized.

All in all, I think it is cool that in Austin they can race all week long after work. I'd like to see some of that around here. I asked someone to organize it, being she is sooo good at these things. A vague smile was her reply. I guess I'd better figure this one out on my own...

Hard Drive Death and Chain Driven Lust

My hard drive took a vacation on me, and that's why I have virtually disappeared. Some people have blog stalkers and nasty comment leavers, I just have a lack of being prepared. Listen to me good, now, BACK UP EVERYTHING. Did ya' hear that? if you don't already do this, do it now, right now. Avoid the pain of losing you beloved files and then paying a greasy-haired guy with odd social skills too much of your hard-earned dough to fix it and get your life back.

and now for something completely different...

I'm in Texas again, yay! This blogger thing has opened up a world of bike riding possibilities! I rode with Chris. The details and pics are on his blog. We rode over the Colorado River, through some beautiful scenery of the rolling hill country (gorgeous spring time wilflowers included), and I saw a great big dam. The climbs had some intense moments. My ass was kicked. Chris just floats up the climbs.

I rented a bike to ride out here. It is sweet. A Lemond Zurich. Light, responsive, and fast. How sad I will be to return to my old steel wonder...and just when I was about to stop buying bike parts and hence free up my extra cash each month, along comes new bike lust. This is how addiction gets started...

Something else occurred to me while out on this bike, too. Bikes are kind of like lovers, or really, they become the other in a pretty significant relationship. I felt guilty liking this new bike. I felt like I was betraying my custom frame back home, with its beautiful lugs. It has been so faithful to me, you know? But this new carbon bike, God, it got the juices flowing in a way my old bike just can't.

Tonight I am going to a race. Yep, you read that right. I, who do no training, am going to race a Criterium with college girls from UT. After I get past feeling old and silly, I think it will be fun. Especially on this rented bike.

I'll keep you informed, race fans!

The Trade-Off

Ah, the life of an alternative educator. A week ending in tight shoulders and some amazingly sore abs.

After my back-to-back rides last weekend, I was sooo alive on Monday at work. Something about good times with good friends, you know? I actually got to teach English again for one day (the yearbook takes a month and the whole school participates in it). I felt normal, and like maybe I was going to get some riding in this week. NOOOOO. Silly Me.

Tuesday is a blur, but I know I didn't teach anyone anything. The yearbook had one more day to go...hence, Tuesday night insomnia.

I took the morning off because Wednesday night we had our quarterly family meeting. As well as teaching English and being the resident graphic designer for the yearbook working on ancient computers and a crap network (can anyone tell I'm bitter?), I have a counseling case load of seven young people whom I encourage to succeed, as well as kick their asses when they screw up. I am their parents' main contact, most of whom do not speak English. So, I pull out my broken Spanish, and use my students to translate when I am lost for words. Thank God I understand the kids, so I know they are not telling their parents about anything other than their latest offense to the civilized world.

Family Night is actually fun, except for the fact that it is an 11 hour day. I get to tell the parents how their little former gang-member is now achieving credits, and has learned to walk away from fights. It is strange and wonderful to be a trusted part of a family whose culture is so far removed from my own. Sometimes I step back and realize how strange my little world is. I work in the middle of a poor immigrant population. I serve a community whose existence is both necessary and a political hot button. I learn the survival strategies when one is poor and migrant. The strength of my students still amazes me. I become constantly amazed at the resilience of the human being. Bike racers have nothing on these people.

Thursday we spent the whole day packing. We are moving campuses. I will finally have my own classroom. FINALLY!!! I formerly had a room that every Tomas, Ricardo and Enrique would walk into, looking for the main office, the bathroom, or my boss. Now I have a door with a key. Well, when it is all unpacked. So, Manual Labor Day, deep sleep after work. No rides for me.

Friday we took the kids to a ropes course. I am afraid of heights. No one told me that a staff member had to do everything first, then stand up on a tiny platform nailed to the side of a swaying redwood tree, high above everyone else, and help all of the frightened kids. So, after getting past shaking legs and loss of breath, I learned to live in a tree comfortably. I also climbed up giant staples, walked on cables in the sky, and slid down cables attached to pulleys. Okay, it was fun. Now my forearms are sore, my abs are, too. Still no rides for me.

Last night I cleaned my bike, trying to persuade myself I was going to race today. But, here I am blogging instead. I did, however, arrange for a ride this afternoon with a girlfriend and a guy she's trying to hook me up with. I hear he rides fast and builds furniture. So, in spite of a week with no social life and no ride time, I still have hope. There's always hope.

I have thought often of quitting this job. It wears me out, and my boss is a bit nuts. But the amounts of love and inspiration I get from it are addicting. I cannot imagine taking a job where I am less invested. Not to mention giving up my 12 weeks of vacation a year...

Career switching is still possible. Right now I am focusing on career augmenting.

Deadlines Meet Insomnia

3:30 am.
yearbook deadline approaches.
my mad boss my time encroaches.
i wish i were a cock-a-roaches.

bad poetry.
hablare espanol esta noche.
another part fell off my coche.
i am going loco-oche.

called a sub.
work from home to get it done.
playing hooky, but not much fun.
rather be riding in the sun.

out of coffee.
go to make it what the f$%^?
i always forget to pick up the stuff.
i need to quit can't get enough.

contract hours.
overtime not in the pay.
think vacation everyday.
it's almost over, so I say:

Otro cafe
por favor.

What a Fun Day!

Reunited, and it feels so good
Reunited, cause we understood...

Okay, cheesy time over, but today was a day of reunions of sorts. I decided to do the Sea Otter pre-ride ride with my old homie, Gin . I asked him to pick me up from his faraway land of suburban amusements, and off we went down the freeway. Catching up on the haps was awesome. We can talk like two old ladies who went to grade school together. Ah, those were the days...
So, we pull up to the spot and Queen Bella comes out of nowhere, totally incognito.
Almost didn't recognize her, until I saw the posy in her radiant red hair. Apparently Ollie was off to the races, winning the big money to take her out to dinner. She joined our ride, too.
We rode so hard, well, I rode so hard, the rest of them were kind of cruising. Gin had a nice poker face as he tried to play attack-counter attack with Queenie. He failed to consider that she's been training with the best. It was a two Hammer flask day for him.
There were many other lost pals from yore along for the fun, but who knows if they like to be displayed for all the world blog-style.
So, we rode, and rode, and climbed and climbed. I think there was one fun descent, but it's all a blur. Now I remember why I don't race cross-country anymore. What the hell is up with all those granny-gear sections in that course (or is it just me and my spin-to-win mentality?). In the middle of my silent whining period, out of nowhere came Velogirl and her entourage of valiant racers in pink and black. She looked so hot in her Harlot knickers and long pretty ponytail. I didn't get to ride with her, but that's okay - it was still part of my reunited experience.
Hey - that's why I love racing. Because people I love are doing it, and I get to ride with them on their pre-ride days, then run into more of them.
My legs hurt after a record two days of riding in a row (where have my priorities gone?), but I am soooo happy to be back in the saddle, sores and all.

Where Oh Where Has My Little Blog Gone?

Wow, lots of stuff happening these days. No time to blog, but here's the enthralling highlights of the last week:

I went to school in London in 1987, and discovered the Cornish Pasty. Now I have a pal from Britain living up in Sausalito, and his mom came out to visit him. I was told that she would send me home with homemade pasties if I made an appearance. So, up I went last weekend and got my flaky crusted meat and veggie filled delights: pasties, and a little too drunk in the bargain.
By the way, do British people normally do cheers everytime they drink anything? I arrived at the house. A beer was cracked. "Cheers!" We went to a bar and got a beer. "Cheers!" We sat at the table and water was served. "Cheers!" I went to the bathroom, and beers appeared. "Cheers!" I woke up the next day and a Cappucino was made. "Cheers!" Mum made us a fried breakfast and I had a glass of orange juice. "Cheers!" I am not exaggerating.

So, came home later to a bike racer from New Mexico out for a visit. I let him park his motorhome in my driveway and showed him the pie ride. He was here all week, and what a life this guy has designed for himself. He does freelance writing and indexes books, all remotely. He and his dog drive his motorhome around the country doing stage races and climbing the upgrade ladder. He emails cycling girls near his racing destinations and gets them to take him on rides. We rode 44 miles one day, and Gizdich Ollalie-Apple pie was included. What a lifestyle! Some people really know how to work it. If only I wanted to live in a motorhome...



Finally, I met my new teammates for the 24 Hours of Adrenaline. The Tits of Steel Billy Cross 8 hour team is being resurrected. Two of its founding members have returned. Three have been added. On our bonding ride today I finally conquered all of Mailbox. Why didn't anyone who I ride with ever tell me I've done harder stuff? I've had a mental block against that trail for years. It was cake, I tell ya'! The other good news is that I now have met more cool women to ride with here in Santa Cruz, being that some people got schmoopy and left the area. Others just got too fast for little old me. Anyway, technical skills up, personal demon confronted, and all's better because I have another chance to ride with cool local girls who don't mind a slow climb and a tricky descent. Ahhhh....

So there is it blogger fans. The weather's beautiful, the clocks have changed, and I'm once again having grand adventures!

From Aruba, With Love

My mom called me from Aruba this morning. This may not seem odd, but I did not grow up with a mom who goes to Aruba. I grew up with a mom who had to shop at discount stores and wisely took advantage of free government cheese after she divorced in the 70's.
My strong and resourceful former struggling single mother of two now plays golf, travels the world, and drives a semi-luxury automobile. My mother has modeled for me a very valuable idea: marry for retirement.
After observing her retirement lifestyle, I have finally opened my eyes to the necessity of being prepared for this coming old age. I have beefed up my retirement savings, become a penny-pincher. She and her husband are having a great time of it.
And here's another thing I've realized: marrying for your retirement years is a very viable option when you haven't made it to the altar yet, and you're in your late 30's.
The dating conditions are pretty bleak out here in late 30's land. Here's the rub: the single guys your age are mostly recently divorced or have been focusing on amassing success. Many in these groups think they deserve a hot number who is at least 10 years younger than them. Funny, sometimes I feel the same way about what I deserve...
My yoga teacher tells me to marry younger because men age faster than women. She suggests seven years or so. Has anyone told the men that? I don't think so, because the majority of guys who look at my on-line profile are in their 50's. Guys my age don't even search for women their age. Don't they know they are going to get old and sick and die way before us? It's kind of rude to expect me to clean out their bedpan and listen to their incoherent babble in my golden years of vitality, don't you think?
So, I cannot plan for this possible future mate, all I can do is tell the 50-plusers to get real when it comes to dating me. But I can plan for retirement. And to marry for retirement.
Here's the logic of it: both of you have time, you've got money, and you're too tired to look for that unrealistic fantasy of the perfect mate. You know the grass isn't any greener over there, and you know how to enjoy the years that are left. The quality of each other's personalities will be what really matters, because the sex-drive is low. Vanity is lost, and only the choice to enjoy each day as much as possible is viable.
Not that any of this is my mom's reality - I am only surmising. I just see that it's working for her... and I really don't see most men coming to their senses any time soon. They still think they rule the world, after all. And they watch way too much porn.

Anyway, having made this decision to marry for retirement has really freed me up to do what I want to do in the mean time. Change careers, start a business, and ride bikes. Stop worrying about aging and dating. These things are a drag. Working toward a different kind of success is not.

So, who knows, maybe in twenty years or so some of you will be getting a call from Aruba...

Oh Happy Day!

Today it's official - I got the teacher grant for the Academy of Art in San Francisco. This summer I'll be taking fashion design courses at a school that sends some of its students to fashion week in New York every year. Being a polite pest really paid off!

Alas, I won't be doing the hands-on stuff, yet. I have to do the "get to know the industry" and "learn all about the properties of fabrics" foundation work, first. That's okay, it's necessary. I think I get to at least touch fabric samples. Can't wait to touch the dress forms...