Procrastinator

I think this is the first three day weekend in a while where I could call it a success. Or at least a success for me. There's usually some sort of un-fun home project or I'm sick and down for the count. Yes, the house project would have probably been a good idea (mainly cleaning). Not really at the top of my priority list this past weekend (or ever for that matter). Here's my recap:

Friday: Easy ride to Waway with Mike. Wanted him to show me the new Pumphouse go 'round trail because I was giving a Bearscat 50 tour on Saturday. Fell off of new rock bridge and into the water. I was sitting in the drink up to my neck. No pictures because I went ass first and my cell phone was in my jersey pocket. I know there would have been a lot of joy spread by that photo. I do apologize.

Saturday: Rode with Reba, George and Rick. Gave a tour of the Bearscat 50 course. First hot and humid day in the woods. Great day with friends!

Sunday: Dark Horse ride/Surprise B-day party for Webb. Fun stuff. Mmmmm....cake. Did I mention that there was cake?

Monday: Slapped a road gear on Mo and did a long road ride in Harriman. Hazy, hot and humid...glad I was not in the woods. I'm sure it was sticky and buggy as hell. Got the normal looks and questions from the roadies because not only was I on knobbies I was on a SS with knobbies. Was told to "shift" and asked "How do you climb hills on that thing?" by a guy in a full Radio Shack kit and a $10,000 Colnago. Idiot. Really disappointed that I didn't have my phone to take a pic. I rode by the beach and WOW. There was some "talent" out there yesterday.

Tonight: Legs are beat. Finally thinking about packing for Boulder. I have it in my head what I'm bringing. Now I just have to actually do. I guess it's time to get my shit together. This is really happening, isn't it? What in the hell have I gotten myself into?

New phone should be here tomorrow. I'll need photo evidence.

7 a.m. Thursday morning we will be on our way...

Stewart Six Pack

The Stewart Six Pack is in the books. Seven hours and 60 miles on the SS. Lots of mud. Lots of fun. Lots of saddle sores.

No, I did not recycle pics from SSAP. I didn't think it was possible, but the conditions were actually worse than SSAP. At least at SSAP you had puddles of water so when you rode through some of the crap got washed away. There were a few water holes on the Six Pack course. Mostly there were mud holes, sloppy ups and wet and evil shale. Each lap the mud got greasier and greasier. It was like riding in chocolate sorbet. At one point during my final lap I took my hand off the bars to wipe my eye and the next thing I knew my front wheel was flipped around and facing me and I was on the ground. Won't try that move again.

I rode Mo, the 29er S-Works Carbon SS. I still chose a pretty tall gear for the mud and for 6 hours. Gus the Bus (my Specialized Marathon single) was in the truck to be packed for Boulder. I thought about changing bikes because Gus has a smaller gear on. It was just a fleeting thought. I told myself that "the Lumberjack was coming". The bigger gear won. I practiced eating and drinking on schedule. For something that I do so well off the bike why does it have to be so hard on the bike? In the end it all worked out. I started so slow. Thanks to Ma Nature and copious amounts of pollen in the air my breathing has been less than desirable for the last couple of days. I knew if I pushed at all in the first couple hours I was going to DNF.

The first few laps were rough. I found my rhythm and my breath at around hour 3 and after that the laps seemed easier. I began craving movie theater popcorn and Slim Jims. Not sure what all that means, especially together. Maybe I'm deficient in processed foods. I was mapping out the drive home in my head to see if it was possible to swing by a movie theater and get some popcorn. I came in before the 6 hour cut-off and I knew I was going for another lap. No question. At that point I had my own little pit crew and cheering section. Hawaiian Mike, Rob and Mike were all there to cheer me on. Mike had dropped out. Not shocking since he had some sort of stomach funk all week. Usually, I am the pit crew/cheering squad so it was nice that the roles were reversed.

Poop flavored cake batter before the pudding covered bridge..Mmmmn tasty.

Getting my "Major Award" for 2nd (I chose the picture with the least amount of chins)

Ike had one hell of a day. He would like to thank Janice and Rossi for looking out for him.

I'll get to these sometime this week... or maybe I'll just throw them away and buy new ones.

Die Ipod, Die

The weather in the Northeast has been a big ball of suck at best this week. I've been so unmotivated. Yeah, I haven't been feeling great. The weather does not help. The joints feel like I have thumb tacks in them and I'm fatigued but that's no excuse. I've been feeling and acting like a slug lately. All I want to do this week is sit on the couch with the dee-oh-gee and watch bad t.v. Oh, and eat. And eat. And eat. Something about crappy weather that makes me want to strap on the food bag.

I thought about going for a trail run. The ankles weren't really cooperating today so I decided not to risk being crippled for a few days. I made myself set-up the trainer in the shed. Why not in the house like a normal person you ask? Well, for one, I hate to look at it. Two, it's rarely used. Three, it becomes a parrot perch or I am constantly scrubbing a cat 5 tattoo off the dog's head because he feels the need to investigate around and under the bike frequently. I hate the trainer. I usually will do anything to not have to ride the trainer.

All I had to do was get in a short and easy spin. I dug out my Ipod from the console of the truck. I knew it hadn't been used in a while so I told myself that I would ride for the life of my Ipod or for an hour, whichever came first. I was certain it was going to die within 10 minutes. Damn. That was the most excruciating hour of my life.

We were planning on a trip to MD this weekend to race. Earlier in the week I got a text from Mike saying that we got into the Stewart Six-Pack. Okay. Whatever. Six hours at Stewart. Could be a good thing. I guess I won't be getting a new bottom bracket in the SS. May as well wait until after this weekend because it's supposed to be another sloppy one. I need some long rides on the single if there is any hope of me finishing Lumberjack. Yikes.

What was I thinking?

Rescue Mission

Easy spins are so boring to me. On Tuesday night I had a purpose. It made the time pass so much faster.

I found my little turtle friend trying to cross Lakeshore Drive at rush hour on Upper Greenwood Lake. I jumped off my bike and threw it to the side and waited for my opportunity to save him from being road kill. I've been known to stop on Margaret King Ave to pull a box turtle from the road. I couldn't handle if I saw turtle smash that I could have prevented.

I put him in my back jersey pocket to take him to a safer place and he climbed up my back as I was riding. I stopped and retrieved him and he got the thumb and forefinger treatment all the way to his new home near Cascade Lake in Warwick, NY. Some quad trail and a few rock gardens...Hope he enjoyed the ride!

Reality Smack

It's that time of the year when all of my doctor's appointments are grouped within a two week time frame. They want to compare notes on how everyone's poking and prodding of me went. Like anyone who has a chronic disease or condition you become a professional at the doctor's office. No confirmation call necessary and you always have exact change for the co-pays and, most importantly, you always know where the remote control is hiding. Rheumatologist, cardiologist, pulmonologist and neurologist. I think that about sums it up for the past week or so.


My rheumey moved west so I had my first appointment with the new doctor (I will call him Dr. McSchweatyfrompenstein). It wasn't good. I'm a tough customer. There was an interview process and I will not be hiring him. First, he was portly and sweaty. I know, I know. He could be a good doctor give him a chance. Nope. Not going to happen. Strike one. Second, when he was examining my nose I could smell his nasty cigarettey hands. Ick. Strike two. Third, he asked how I got a bruise and some cuts and I told him it was on a mountain bike. He told me it was time to find a new hobby. Strike three. No good. I could go on. These are just the top three. Wait. No. I really must go on. Here are a few of his questions with the answers I had to keep to myself (so, so hard):

What's wrong with your feet? What's wrong with your face? Why are you sweating so much? Did you run here? That is the question. I don't even want to imagine what your feet look like. Barf. Hairy Fred Flinstones with talons, I presume.

Beauty-Full. Broken, mangled, Linscott freak finger-toes and all.


What is that from? A pedal. I explained and acted out my coming out of the pedal in a rock garden and the pedal cracking me in the shin. Still a blank stare. Seriously, I'm not a battered woman. Let's move on.


Did you fall? Meaning: Are you a battered wife? Did you have a memory lapse? We just covered this. Hmmm...I think we went over this mountain biking in the woods thing.


You want to start IVs again? Do you want to go on Jenny Craig and the patch? Do I need to? Do you have a reason to do so? I don't feel that crappy yet. No. Not happening yet. Seriously. At least get my blood work back before you go to that. WTF.


The best part is I go to see my cool cardiologist the next day and I told him I went to see Dr. McSchweatyfrompenstein. He looked at me and laughed and said, "Well, knowing you I know that did not go well." No. No it did not. "Are you going to be good and keep your Holter Monitor on for a day next week? Can you not sweat profusely or rip it off for a full 24 hours?" See. He knows how to talk to me. I can't promise him anything but I sure will try.

Mercy Killing

It's been a while since I've flashed back to 2006 when I did All-A-Muchy on a rigid ss after just being introduced to bikes the year before. It was all about survival. My bike handling skills felt like they reverted to the 2006 non-skills as well.


I thought by having a day or two to digest more words would come. I thought I would be able to put something together to describle the course and the experience. There really are no words. It's something that needs to be experienced. The Maximus made Waway look groomed and Stewart look like an indoor velodrome. It was rough. 10 girls started and only 5 finished (for those of you keeping score that's only a 50% survival rate). I was a mercy killing (pulled) and did not suffer from puss-a-bifadous (DNF). I came to the 30 mile point and the promoter told me that the last 10 miles were now taking anywhere from 1.5 to 2+ hours and I was the lucky one to not have to experience it. I was upset and secretly relieved at the same time. After making my way to the truck and telling Mike I was pulled he also told me I was "lucky" and something about how I would want to quit mountain biking and my spirit would have been forever crushed had I done those last 10 miles. Huh.

We waited for Jane to finish. As soon as she came across the line Mike and I congratulated her on her survival skills and the awesome finish. She asked how I did. Out of blue shivering lips and chattering teeth I could make out, "That's awesome you muh-muh-mm-made it 30 miles. The last 10 miles were the worst. You are so frrr-ffrr-freaking lucky. I have to go get warm now, mate."

It's hard to make out in this horrible cell phone pic but times were so tough Jane felt the need for recovery Cheetos.

Cracker Barrel and ride home conversations mostly revolved around the realization that this experience changed all of our perspectives. Shell shocked. Like the last survivors of a Saw movie we had a bond for just surviving the harrowing experience. If you had asked any of us when we finished if we would ever do another Michaux series race the answer would have been an emphatic "Hell No!" About two hours later we were all talking about checking the schedule to see if we could make it to the next two. It was that brutal.