911

I really love my kids.

Today I woke up lazily, after sleeping in unreasonably. Then the kids and I hopped on our cruisers and headed to breakfast at Michael D's. After that we rode along the centennial trail so the kids could do some monkeying around....

Later this afternoon I took the kids up to meet Mike at Farragut State Park, where he and Justin competed in the NIC Outdoor Adventure Race. The plan was then for me to ride home, in a roundabout way, and meet them for the Tri Club cruiser ride.

I headed west on the highway out of Farragut, crossed Highway 95, and then headed through Athol. Hung a left on old Hwy 95, then took a right to head west on Bruner. Funny thing is, I had just been thinking about how much I enjoy riding my bike, how blessed we are to live in an area like this, how awesome it is that the kids enjoy the activities we do, how lucky I am. Scary thing is, I had a premonition...

Riding west on the highway out of Farragut is beautiful. It's a 4-lane road with not too much traffic. But I suddenly got scared when I came across the speed limit sign that read 60 mph, and there wasn't much of a shoulder to speak of. I had a vision of myself getting hit from behind from someone talking on their cell phone, reaching for a soda, turning the radio station. I envisioned myself lying on the side of the road, calling Mike on my cell phone. It gave me chills. Then it made me turn around every 30 seconds or so to see if there was any traffic behind me. If there was, then I watched them intently to be sure that they got into the left-most lane. And I kicked up the speed for the 4 miles to "safer" ground.

So like I said, I crossed Hwy 95 and got myself to Bruner road - familiar territory. I settled into a nice easy pace for the ride home.

Now friends, I know that we've all had training at some point in our lives regarding emergencies. Who to call, what information to tell the dispatcher, what details to remember. I've always wondered if I would be able to keep it all together in a state of emergency. Today I think I passed the test.

You see, a couple of jackasses in a pickup truck decided that it would be HILARIOUS to - yes, you may need to sit to believe this - SLAP ME ON MY ASS AS THEY DROVE BY ME AT 35-40 mph. Hilarious. Hear me laughing?

Luckily, after the initial shock wore off (did that just happen?!), I got the plate number. And, because I actually tend to remember to bring more crap than is ever necessary, I pulled my cellphone out of my back pocket and called 911. God was looking down on me in so many ways this afternoon: I wasn't injured. The 911 dispatcher rides bikes and couldn't believe this had just happened, and patched the call to an officer. The officer rides bikes, is married with kids, and is competing in Ironman. In short, they took my call very seriously.

After spending 30 minutes on the phone with the sheriff deputy giving the plate number, description, and my account, I headed back home. He assured me that he would do everything possible to find the guys. He asked what I would like him to do if he ended up finding them. I asked him what my options were - I definitely wanted to press charges. Then I told him I wanted him to issue them a citation. This means that they would have to make an appearance in court and explain their actions to the judge. The judge most likely would waive jail time and instead give them community service, along with around a $300 fine. It would go on their permanent record as a misdeameanor battery charge.

Now, I know that most likely these guys were just getting their jollies. How funny would that be, I'm sure they were thinking, to see the look on her face if we slapped her butt??? Then I'm sure they were thinking of telling all their friends around a couple of brews. And while I wasn't hurt physically, what scared me was the what-ifs...

What if I wasn't a good bike-handler and it startled me so badly that I lost control of my bike? What if the driver just misjudged his distance an inch or so the wrong way? What if the slapper misjudged his force and knocked me off? I could have been seriously injured, or worse, my kids - my precious children who count on me being there for them - could be without a mom.

I'll bet those guys had no idea an officer would be at their door tonight. I'll bet they had NO idea they messed with the wrong girl. The wrong girl for sure.

See you @#$*ers in court.

Water Levels at Record Highs

The crazy heavy snowfall this winter is now turning to crazy spring runoff, with flood conditions in Lake Coeur D Alene and surrounding area rivers. In fact, the lake has a temporary "NO WAKE" law in effect for the entire lake right now. For those of you familiar with Independence Point right in downtown CDA, you'll be amazed at some of these pictures:

As a point of reference, this is Independence Point during an Ironman start. Note the crowds standing on the "bank," a series of concrete steps that reach down to the water - I think there are about 8 of them, about 24 inches tall each...

Ryan and Alli standing at the top concrete step at Independence Point. The dock behind them is the one they use to load people to the seaplane. The rock bed to Ryan's left is the little man-made "creek" that starts at a fountain about 15 yards behind where I took the picture. For those of you that know, the creek dumps into the lake usually about 10-15 feet down.

This is at the main city parking lot at Independence point. Notice the bench and trash can immersed - these are usually 20-25 feet from the water's edge.

The water is almost over the top steps at Independence Point. These are the 8 or so 24" high steps that go down to the water, so you can see how high it is...

Another shot looking toward Independence Point - you cannot see the steps that are normally there..... the spectators for Ironman would be submerged!

The water almost up to the seawall - notice the lifguard's perch.

Another shot of the water creeping up into the parking lot... This is the one that the kids are posing in with their bikes.

Things You Can See on a North Idaho Road Ride

Funny thing, when you go riding here in North Idaho, you are struck by the beauty of the area. Thought it would be funny to blog about "things you see on a NORTH IDAHO road ride...."

Ever seen a giant cell phone tower disguised as a REALLY tall tree? It's hard to see with this picture, but that giant pokey thing on the top of the mountain across the lake is a cell phone tower that they cleverly attached branch-looking thingies to in an attempt to make it less of an eyesore...

Speaking of eyesores... this is quality property management....

Right next to properties offered for LOTS of money....


Right next to a quaint farm overrun by black bunnies (sorry, can't see them in the picture unless you really zoom in on the black specks...)

And finally, where else but in North Idaho can you come across someone's front yard, complete with a llama, a rooster, a sheep, and a couple of goats.....

Mike's 24-hour MTB Race

A "Before" picture with me, Mike, and Tommy. Mike heard his name over the loudspeaker because he'd forgotten to sign in. Tommy's set to do the 24 hours of mechanical needs, with me set for the food, moral support, and aches and pains...
Everyone lines up to wait for the official starting gun. The start was a 600 meter LeMan's-style run...

Mike grabs his bike from Tommy on his way back from the run...

Midnight cravings for beef stew (don't ask me, that's what he wanted)...

Mike's completed his third 24-hr MTB race, with today's Round and Round the Clock in Spokane, Washington. For quite some time he was in first, about 8 minutes in the lead. Around 2 AM, though, he decided to sleep, noting that the second place guy at the time was a fellow training for Trans-Alp and a seasoned competitor in the elite field at the 24-hr World's. This guy wasn't going to be stopping at all, and Mike realized that there was no way he could keep up the pace without digging really deep. Since this race was just a practice run of sorts to prepare for the World Championships in July, Mike decided to not dig himself into a hole and just finish. Plagued with knee and back pain, the time off the bike to rest allowed him to race a few more laps in the morning. I still need to confirm, but we think he ended up 10th. Not bad for sleeping around 6 hours!

Now it's rest, recover, rebuild, and kick ass in July!

Some Hard Lessons

Wild lupine at the top of the TT course

The view from the top of the first climb (about 2 miles long) of the TT course.

I've been delaying writing a blog about my experience at the Mount Hood Cycling Classic last week. Delaying it because I knew it would be a longer blog, because I knew it would be a little difficult to write, and because I didn't want to sit on my pity-pot any longer.

After a full week, however, I think I've found closure with my experience - enough to take a step back and tell you all how it went.

For those of you who don't know, MHCC is a 6-day stage race in Portland and Mt Hood, OR. For the women, this year's race was UCI, meaning that it attracted the top international and national women's teams, all vying to earn UCI points that could move women from the "long list" for the Olympics to the "short list." Meaning that there were legends in the peloton (Jeannie Longo. Mara Abbott. Leah Goldstein. Tina Pic.). Meaning that the top women's teams were here in full force. Meaning that these women were in top form, some coming off months of training and racing in Europe to come over here to kick some serious ass. Meaning that I jumped in with both feet...

First, let's start at the very beginning. You all know from a previous blog that I became sick with a very bad cold. The illness settled in my sinuses, and the fabled Z-pack didn't seem to touch it. A week before the race, I called a friend who is a doctor, and asked her advice. I figured that after the 5-day Zithromax that I would've been feeling tons better. But instead, every upper tooth in my mouth felt like it had a cavity, and I couldn't bend over, ride over a bump, run, jump, etc without excruciating pain. "That's classic sinus infection," she said. After some nasty Kleenexes full of thick mucus and blood, I understood. She suggested I get on some bigger antibiotics, and called in a prescription for some Cipro. It was a 10-day course. Which meant that I would be taking the antibiotics during MHCC.

I called Kendra everyday that week, letting her know how I felt, and having her prescribe the day's workout based on my illness. I had taken the previous week completely off the bike, and was easing back into it. She wanted me to get some harder efforts under me before Tuesday's Prologue. Usually she doesn't have riders try that until after they're off the antibiotics, "They just make you sluggish," she explained. But we both knew that wasn't really an option given the 10-day prescription. So, I did my moderate intervals, felt what I would call "okay," with adequate power output, and decided to still go to Hood.

I had asked her that week, though, about when I would know to pull the plug. I could tell that I wasn't going to be 100% recovered. I hadn't originally planned on doing this race when I had laid out my season, but when Bob's asked me to be on the team, Jeanne really talked me into it, despite my concerns that this is a big climber's race, and I'm NO climber (too much junk in the trunk to compete with the REAL climbers!). "You'll be fine," Jeanne insisted. Little did we both know how different this year's field would be compared to her point of reference from years past... I asked Kendra how I would know if going through with Hood could damage my season's goals. I was concerned about going into it not recovered enough to sustain the damage, and worried that I could potentially dig myself into a hole and ruin months of hard work. "You just have to take one stage at a time," she said. She said the risk would come if I slugged it out when I was too sick to go on. I put it in the back of my mind and told myself it wouldn't come to that.

My teammate Allison and I were scheduled to drive down to Portland on Monday, spend the night, relax the next morning, then meet the team early afternoon before the Prologue. Sunday night I was awoken around midnight when Ryan came into our room wheezing, "Mom, I can't fall asleep... I can't breathe." Crap!! The kid sounded like he had whooping cough, but I knew from personal experience that it was croup. I had him lie down with us in bed, trying to get him to relax. But then I couldn't sleep - I was panicked thinking I would/should (?) take him to the ER for a breathing treatment. I kept listening to be sure he was still breathing. All told, I think I got around 3 hours of sleep that night. I called in sick to work at 3:45 AM, knowing I wouldn't make it in, since I didn't want Mike to have to take him to the shop. We had no options for a babysitter, and I didn't want him staying home alone. Mike was able to come be with him that afternoon so that I could meet Allison a little earlier to start our drive.

We arrived in Portland and found our hotel without a hitch, thanks to Allison's trick GPS gadget that navigated for us the entire week. The next morning, however, we weren't able to sleep in like we both so desperately wanted. We had to head to the airport to pick up a teammate. I hadn't planned on it when I'd packed up the car, and cramming Jenn's huge bag (AKA "the beast") in the backseat, along with her and about 6 wheels in bags was quite the sight! Luckily it was a short drive to meet the team at the Prologue course.

The Prologue was a pancake-flat 1.7 miles. I'd never done anything like that before. How do you pace for 1.7 miles???? All-out, was all I could think. My inexperience was painful. I felt stressed about every little thing. About getting the TT bike off the car. About putting the disk wheel on the back. About pumping up the disk wheel with the adapter. About making sure the brakes were adjusted (thanks, Tommy). About getting the road bike off the car and onto the trainer to warm up. About making sure that I was at the start the obligatory 15 minutes early so the judges could weigh my bike and set it up against the jig to ensure it met UCI regulations. ARGH! This was where I really missed Mike. He's my rock and my calming force. I realized suddenly and painfully how much I rely on him. And it sucked.

Despite my crappy warmup and my stress (no thanks to Jeanne for telling me 10 minutes before my start regarding my comment about being nervous starting on a ramp, "Yeah, the first time I started on a ramp I fell over!"), I finished in 35th out of 84 women! The next day Kendra found me and said, "Nice job! You made first page in your first UCI race. We should get you on the track!" I told her that I didn't think I did it right, didn't think I'd paced myself appropriately hard. "Did you have the taste of metal in your mouth and feel like you were going to puke?" she asked. Uh, no. Should've gone harder. Lesson learned. Prologue down, Stage 1 ahead.

Wednesday brought Stage 1, the Mount Tabor Criterium. The announcer called it "a crit in name only," stating that it really was a short circuit race, owing to the 130 feet of climbing per 1.3 mile lap. Check out the link above and look at the profile map. Basically, if you weren't climbing, you were descending, and it was like no crit I've been in. With over 80 women starting, it was a bit nerve-racking. I started well-positioned, given the size of the field, and fought as hard as I could. Unfortunately, I made a tactical error, of sorts. Tommy saw it all happen from the sidelines. The way the course is laid out, the climb winds its way for about a half mile around several turns. As I was fighting to make my way up through the pack, I didn't see that Jeannie Longo had launched an attack around the corner. Suddenly I found myself gapped, even though I was focused on sticking to the wheels in front of me. ARGH! Tommy said it was painful to watch, "The 10 or so girls in front of you just gave up... they didn't try to chase on, and you got gapped." I chased with 3 other girls, but to no avail. We just tried to hang in there as long as possible, delaying the inevitablitity of getting pulled from the race. We were pulled with 4 laps to go, putting me a little over 4 minutes down in GC behind the leaders going into the next day's stage.

Thursday's stage, the Cooper Spur Circuit, had me terrified. Close to 19 miles made the circuit, which we would complete 3 and a half times. About 8 miles of the circuit was comprised of a climb (again, check out the profile map) - so once again, it was either up, or down. This was the race that Jeanne said "you'll be okay... the pack always stays together because there's such a long descent after the climb that everyone can chase back on." I knew going into it that a long sustained climb at 6-8% wasn't my forte. Which also meant that it was critical to stay positioned as far in the front of the field as possible. Again, I fought as hard as I could, but I was popped off the back of the back with about 200 meters to go from the top of the climb. Despite my best efforts, along with 3 other ladies, we weren't able to close the gap until 8 miles later, when we found ourselves at the back of the back at the base of the hill for the second time up the climb. By then, I felt like my legs were already spent, but I tried getting up into the middle of the pack. It was to no avail, though. By the time I huffed and puffed my way into the pack, it surged as the riders prepared for the sprint (couple spots on the course are marked as sprint points lines or queen of the mountain lines, where riders can earn points for being the best sprinter or the best hill climber - a competition within the overall competition of the race), and once again I found myself off the back. That pretty much was all she wrote. I rode a lap or so with Liz Nettles on my wheel, but then she ran into some difficulties and dropped off. At the middle of my last way up the last hill, it was MY turn to be into some difficulties, and she and Yukie Nakamura passed me. So for most of the race I was by myself. The 90 degree heat and the climbing beat me down. I looked at my arms, my legs, sparkling with crystallized salt from my sweat. "I'm screwed," was my immediate thought. Then I just turned to, "I have to finish this..." I think perhaps my lowest point was when, on my last time up the climb, I was passed by the men's Pro peloton. And their entire caravan. And the entire "unofficial" caravan of race fans and supporters, including the old guy in the beige four-door yelling out his open passenger window, "Good job... almost there.... you DO know you have to make it in a certain time, right? You know that?!" F-you was all I could think. Thankfully I had the composure to keep it to myself. I made it to the finish a humiliating 68th place out of 73, the last rider to make the time cut (in a UCI stage race like this, riders have to finish within a certain percentage, determined per stage, of the winner's time. If outside of this percentage, they are "time cut," and unable to continue on to the next stage.). I was now over 32 minutes down in GC (GC is General Classification. In a stage race, the winner is the rider who has the lowest overall time when you combine all the stages.). Holy cow. Welcome to the big leagues. After the race I made it back to the car to start to change clothes. Luckily Allison had had the forethought to have me park the car in the upper parking lot, adjacent to a rumbling creek. "This is where we sat in the creek to soak our legs last year," she'd said. Sure enough, the creek was full of racers, and I eagerly made my way down the embankment to sit with everyone. I never thought I'd enjoy an ice bath so much! It was then that the "hugeness" of what I was doing hit me: "I'm sitting in a creek with the top female cyclists in the nation right now. Team TIBCO, Colavita-Sutter Home, Veloforma, Aaron's, Value Act Capital ... And I'm listening to them talk about how their fiance proposed, what they're going to do this summer, how the race went for them." While I was a bit awestruck, I did realize that we're all regular people... except they get paid to ride. While I was changing out of my jersey there was a racer from the Veloforma team standing very close by, talking with a friend of hers about her frustrations with her 4-year-old putting his hands in his mouth. "I'm just going to guilt-trip him, now... tell him he has to stop doing it because it's getting Mommy sick!" Before I realized it iI laughed out loud. "It'll never work," I laughed. "When they're that young they don't get that concept." Anyway, the point of me telling this little story is that she then laughed, asked if I had kids, does it get any easier, etc etc. Somehow it came out that I also work full time, and I was frustrated that I got dropped and nervous because this was only my second Cat 2 race. She said, "Oh my God! You can't race at this level and work! An off week for me is about 10 hours on the bike, and otherwise it's around 20! You should be proud that you finished! This is a tough race!"

The Gorge Time Trial was Friday. The night before, I was actually relieved thinking that the next day was a TT. Usually I do well with that event. I was hoping to redeem myself and move up a couple spots in the overall standings. There would be no such luck, however....

Since I was so low in the GC, I was the 3rd rider to start in the TT (they start in reverse order). Unfortunately, my legs didn't feel as good as I was hoping they would during my warmup, and I found myself a bit more winded and fatigued than I expected. Once again I found myself staring down the start ramp, nervous, excited.

The course is beautiful. I had noticed that when Allison and I drove it on our way to Portland on Monday. Lush greenery, wildflowers, parallel to the gorge. However, as with every stage, there was some significant climbing. For cripes sake! I found myself frustrated that this race couldn't just have one stupid stage without a stupid climb up some stupid 6%, 8%, 10% hill. Needless to say, my TT was no good at all. I made up no time, and actually was slower than most of my teammates. 54th out of 67. So what, now I'm over 40 minutes down in GC?! Once again I found myself beaten down. Except now I was beginning to realize that I was not myself...

Back at the room that night I was falling apart. It didn't help that I'd started my period. It didn't help that I was worried about Ryan, who was still so sick that Mike ended up having him stay home from school the entire week. It didn't help that I'd taken my last dose of what was 15 straight days of antibiotics that day. I was so completely not myself that I was falling apart inside, wanting to cry at the drop of a hat, then feeling ridiculous that I was so labile, which made me want to cry, which made me feel even more ridiculous... you get the picture. I was absolutely terrified to start the next day's stage: the dreaded Wy'East Road Race. I honestly didn't know if I could finish. I was scared. I was afraid of failure, afraid of letting the team down, afraid of letting Mike down, afraid of letting Kendra down, just in general being unreasonable with myself. I called Jeannie Bihlmaier, a coaching colleague, and cried and talked with her. I decided to at least start. Tomorrow would be another day. Maybe I'll feel better. It'll be good training, at the very least. I may surprise myself. My team director, Jeanne, also asked me to start, "We need you for the crit on Sunday. Just 74 more miles until you get to race your crit."

The road race started out at a fairly moderate pace. I think everyone knew that the day would be a long one, with the climbing and the heat. Once again, I tried positioning myself in the pack as best as I could. But crap, I'm sliding back?! Where are my legs?! It's mile 8 and I'm getting popped?! Sure enough, as the pack slowly started picking up the pace leading into the first Queen of the Mountains set around mile 11, I found myself out the back of the pack - popped like a bad zit - quick, dramatic, and painful. The peak of my humiliation came when the comissaire, as she passed by in her caravan car, said (in her Swedish accent), "What, do you have a flat?" No, lady, I just suck right now. Then one by one, the caravan cars passed by. Most of them didn't even look over. One gave some encouragement because he recognized me from local racing. Then the last car, with the chief referee, came up beside me. "Just so you know, there's no sag wagon for this race. You'll have the men's races coming up behind you at some point," he looked a little concerned. "That's okay," I replied. "I'm going to abandon at the first feed zone." I knew I was done for. But I also knew I at least had to make it the 30 or so miles to the first feed zone, where Jeanne said she'd be. I needed to ride those miles to be sure I was done.

A couple of riders abandoned before I did, turning around to catch rides back at the start area, I guess, which made me feel better that I wasn't the only one. They abandoned at mile 8. I was at least going to ride the 30 to be absolutely sure. When I pulled into the feed zone, I saw teammate Allison standing there at the car with Jeanne. I told them both that I was done, between trying to hold back tears. And I knew I was done. "Sorry," was all I could keep saying to Jeanne. After some quick calculations, we all knew I wouldn't make the timecut that day, which was set at 12%. And, really, I knew that toughing it out to finish the ride in the heat, for what was sure to be 4 or 5 hours, could potentially put me into a hole from which I may take weeks to recover - placing the rest of my season at risk. Argh!

After following the race from the perspective of the caravan, I decided to head to Wenatchee to meet Mike and the kids and some of the Vertical Earth team, where they were racing. The long drive from Mt Hood to Wenatchee was good for me, providing me time to myself to sit on my pity pot, then get angry, then get over it. I realized, as I frequently try to remind myself, that I do not get paid to do this. I work at least 40 hours a week. I have two kids. This was my second Cat 2 race - heck, this was my first NRC race, let alone UCI with a field that was out of this world! I race because I love it... and if it gets to the point where I can't love it, I need to do some re-thinking.

And finally, the next day I found closure when I talked to Kendra and she told me I should be really proud of myself, expecially considering that I was sick. And the fact that the field was so strong.

But next time, Mike comes with me!

Change Your Mindset

Alli and I went for a ride downtown and back. She became frustrated at the little bit of a grade on Mullan on the way back home - a "false flat" of sorts to her 8-year-old legs.

"I HATE riding on hills!" she cried.

"Alli, I do too. The thing is, you just need to try to change the way you think about riding on them. Think about how they are making you a stronger bike rider, stronger than Ryan, stronger than your friends. Try to think about them like you like them, and it'll make riding more fun," I tried to convince her.

Deep thought....

"I LOVE hills! I eat hills for breakfast, and poop them at dinner!!"

That's my girl.......

Mother's Day

The perfect Mother's Day: A ride with the family to dinner at MoonTime!
I fell in love with this Electra Amsterdam 3-speed cruiser at the Interbike show in Vegas last September. I continuously begged Mike for it...

Mother's Day has come and gone, I realize, but I needed to make special note of my day...

It started with Alli insisting that I stay in bed, and as hard as I tried to sleep, she came in about every 10 minutes or so, wondering if I was ready for breakfast. She kept asking me what I'd like, and finally I told her I'd take a bowl of granola. This sent her scrambling to ask Mike to run to the convenience store, because we were apparently out of milk! Soon enough, a little tray (aka my cookie cooling rack covered with a homemade placemat) appeared at my bedside, with bowl of granola and obligatory Diet Coke (I know - but I don't drink coffee!!!). She sat in bed with me and we chatted while I ate my Mother's Day breakfast in bed.

Later I was able to go for a ride, and we ended the day with a ride down to MoonTime for dinner. Mike surprised me with a new cruiser bike. I'd been asking for it for a couple of months, salivating over it in the shop. I kept "hinting" that it would make a good Mother's Day present. A week or so before Mother's Day, Alli and I were walking into the shop, and I asked her, "Did you tell Daddy that I needed that bike from you guys for Mother's Day?" She looked at me a little funny-like and said, "Well, I told him you wanted it, not that you needed it." I laughed, "Alli, to a woman, want and need are the same thing." She doesn't get it yet...

So, my old cruiser is at the shop for sale, and my new ride sits proudly in the garage. All 3 gears, rim-drive headlight, powder blue leather grips and saddle. Can't wait to attach a basket or two for trips to the beach this summer!

Twilight Zone Shuttle Ride

Wish I had pictures to add to this entry, but no luck. I'm sitting in the Minneapolis-St.Paul airport. My wishful thinking to try to get an earlier flight out of here was just that - a wish. Class got out early tonight, so I made a dash to the airport in the SuperShuttle, but Spokane being the booming metropolis that it is, turns out there's only the one flight out tonight - at 9:40 pm. Bummer. Especially considering I arrived at the airport a little before 5 pm.

So, that leaves me plenty of time to ruminate, and bore you all to death...

First musing is regarding the apparent requisite that shuttle drivers are foreign, speak broken English, and must text and/or talk on their cell phone while they are negotiating rush-hour construction freeway traffic, all the while doing this annoying push-on-the-gas-pedal-now-let-off-the-gas-pedal-so-everyone's-heads-bobble-around-the-ENTIRE-30-minute-ride. Then, there must be some rule, or perhaps increased commissions, for squeezing as many freakin' people in the van as possible. I apparently was the only female in the greater downtown area heading to the airport, because everyone we picked up was the sterotypical businessman in the sterotypical business attire with the sterotypical loud banter with fellow shuttle riders. I was squished onto a bench seat between a 250-pound pinstriped-clad mafioso and a 300+ pound loud nostril breather. When are we getting to the airport????

Second musing is regarding the way our society continues to spiral into this black hole of decreased face-to-face contact. Translation: Why can't I check-in at the airline counter with a real person anymore? I don't WANT to use the self-serve kiosk! I want to see if I can change my seat to somewhere aft of way-the-hell-in-the back.... Oh.... I have to PAY to change seats? I have to PAY for a mid-air snack? Good grief. It's no wonder I hate flying. Now I just have more excuses.

I don't really have a third musing. Guess my brain has sort of shut down after the long weekend. I can't wait to get back home, get back into a routine of riding again. Hopefully Kendra will let me! That's what I love about having a coach - having her tell me what to do (even though it absolutely killed me to stay off the bike) to make sure that I'm "training smarter, not harder" as the adage goes. I'm feeling considerably better (thanks to a much-needed Z-pak and plenty of Sudafed, not to mention the roughly 2 pounds of cough drops ingested over the last two days to keep me from disrupting the entire course...) - so hoping I didn't lose too much ground. I know it's just because I'm so nervous about this race - just because I've never done such a big stage race before. I'm excited to add this to my list of experiences - because really, no matter how it goes, I'm sure to grow from it somehow!!

Here's to no more shuttle rides for awhile!

A Luxurious Weekend Hidden in Minneapolis

Okay, I know this seems like an awful lot of space to dedicate to pictures of a bed, a bathroom, a stereo, and a bathrobe, but let me explain...

Right now I'm in downtown Minneapolis, MN, staying at the luxurious Grand Hotel Minneapolis. To be exact, right now I'm sitting on a bed fitted in fine Egyptian cotton sheets, leaning against 3 generous down pillows, wrapped in a silk and Egyptian cotton robe. This is after I took a hot bath in a tub that actually allowed me to lie down, with the complimentary Aveda shampoo, conditioner, and body bar. Oh, and I almost forgot the lavendar bath salts. I've also devoured the two Godiva dark chocolates so lovingly tucked into the robe on the end of my bed by the housekeeper who turned down the sheets. This is the first time I've been here to Minneapolis, and I wasn't sure what to expect. I've been very pleasantly surprised! In fact, I'm a little out of my element, what with the $9 bottle of Evian in the wetbar, the doormen that I'm not sure if I'm supposed to tip for opening the door for me everytime I want to go outside (pretty sure I don't need to tip 'em unless they grab a cab for me or take my bags...), and the massive buildings and heavy traffic.

I'm here for a continuing education course on Pediatric Incontinence and Pelvic Floor Dysfunction (which so far has lived up to the hype). And while I'm thoroughly enjoying the luxury, I can't help but wish Mike was here to enjoy it with me. I hate coming to these things alone... I spent 2 hours walking around downtown after class got out tonight. Which on the one hand was a bit enjoyable, but on the other hand it was a bit scary, and a lot lonely. At least, considering my recent illness, it's serving to help me recover. I'm extremely eager to get home and get back on the bike though. Nothing like a full week off followed by sitting in class for two straight days to make me feel like my ass is growing by the second, which is inversely proportional to my speed... you see where the mind games get going....

My afternoon reinforced my love for Coeur D Alene. Although I have to admit the 10'-12' wide sidewalks, propensity for public transit, and bike-friendly traffic lanes make me a bit jealous. Downtown also has an amazing skybridge system - you can litterally cover blocks and blocks and blocks all under cover if you wanted. Which I guess probably comes in handy during hard Minnesota winters. Again, the pedestrian way of life is encouraged. I also found myself having multiple feelings about my anonimity in this relative sea of people. One minute, it felt liberating to be somewhere where no one knows who I am - I could pick my nose, scratch my butt, whatever I wanted, and know that I would never see these people again. The next minute, though, I felt deeply lonely. I wanted someone to care that I was scratching my butt - I wanted to care that someone could see me scratching my butt. Let's face it, in CDA, if I was seen scratching my butt, everyone would know in about a day, maybe two, tops. Double-edged sword, that whole butt-scratching thing in a small town. And for the record, no public butt-scratching ever occurred.

I was quickly discouraged and very self-conscious when I tried to kill some time shopping. I found Macy's, figuring I could blow a little money there. Whoa!!!! Between Louis Vuitton, Coach, Kate Spade, and others I hadn't heard of, I couldn't find anything in my price range (translation: clearance rack at TJ Maxx). Walking through the store in my Old Navy jeans and v-neck henley just didn't feel very trendy! I made my way to the "basement," which really was an underground deli, complete with fresh-to-order greek salads, fruit, wood-fired oven pizzas, fresh sushi rolled to order, gelato, Starbucks... and DIET COKE! Thought I was going to pass out from joy! In this hotel there are no vending machines, nor in the one across the street where our class is being held. Which, for those of you who know me well, is serving to just about kill me. I just might have to take up drinking (gasp) coffee to get my caffeine!

Tomorrow is the lab section of the course. Ugh. I can't even undress in a lockeroom, so I hope the placement of perineal electrodes for surface EMG will be done in a discreet manner! The class has 18 of us - all females with the exception of one guy... poor thing. It must be hard, no matter what you tell yourself about how this is all medical terminology/anatomy/physiology, to sit in a room with 18 women while we all discuss the intricacies of the female (and male) "nether regions." Have to say I don't envy him...

Wish me luck. I'm off to curl up under my down comforter, on the down pillows, listen to my iPod broadcast on the complimentary iHome system, and pick the remnants of dark chocolate from my molars.... but I'll leave the $125 robe here at checkout.