Bear Scare

Tonight I headed over to Waway for a pre-Mohican pedal. Yes, it was slippery and sweaty. All those things that Waway is after a rain. I will say that I dislike the Racing Ralph in the front there in these conditions. I have zero confidence that I'm not gonna bust my face open when I slip out on a rocky, rooty section. With that being said, everything else was pretty normal. Except for the fact that I literally hit a bear tonight. Don't worry. The bear is fine. I was on Banker and the rhododendron is really thick there. It will actually rip you off the bike in places if you're not careful. True story. I came around a turn at a pretty good clip and there it was...I rubbed it's rear with my front wheel and it spun around a bit and I knocked into it with my left leg. I felt coarse, creepy bear hair on my leg and it's head smacked into my knee. It screamed and I screamed. Well, I would call more of what I did a squee more than anything. It was like I was a 13 year old girl and I just saw Justin Bieber. I've never had a noise like that emit from my body. I've also never heard that sound from a bear. Neither of us enjoyed the experience. I skidded off the trail and the bear ran into the woods making that blowing/grunting noise they do when they're stressed (or calling mama). It was rottweiler size, so I assumed mom was somewhere near. Mama bear wouldn't be happy with me and I got myself pointed in the right direction and high tailed it out of there. Thanks to an adrenaline rush, I made some really good time on the last two trails and made everything. I even made a horrible root pack climb that can be tricky on the ss when it's wet. I completely forgot to bitch and blame the Racing Ralph. Funny how that works.

Despite what common sense tells me and some really great advice from really reputable people, I have chosen to wear the new shoes this weekend. My old ones make me want to cry in the first two hours of a ride because they're so soft and stretched out that I have to ratchet them down so tight that my feet no longer get the proper circulation and they become really painful. Either way it's a crap shoot.

Another new edition for this one: bar ends. I haven't ridden with them in some time. I did a few rides with them this past week and had a couple of  'Oh, Shit' moments and remembered why I don't ride with them here. I survived, so I think I'll be okay.

Case of the Mondays

...and it happens to be Tuesday. I've been feeling like this for the past few days. Just blah. Not sure what it is. Usually there is some sort of excitement before I go to a race. Nothing. Well, I wouldn't say nothing. I'd call it apprehension this time. I haven't been feeling so hot and yes, I am concerned that I'm not going to be able to do it. Not sure if that's it. I don't know. I just think Cohutta sucked the life out of me. I blame the kitty litter climbs.

I should be looking forward to this one. Because it is in my home state, my dad, niece and nephew will go from aid station to aid station as a traveling cheering/jeering squad. Also, my brother and his friend are doing the 100k. Mohican, as awful as it looks on an elevation profile, is kind of like riding where we live. Hit after hit of short punchy climbs. Nothing too crazy and long, but the repetitive, steep nature can suck the legs. Maybe that's what I'm not looking forward to. I know how bad it's gonna hurt. I was nervous about it a week ago. Now nothing. Maybe that's a good thing.

I'm trying to be cool about not feeling well. This is different than pre-Cohutta. I have mouth sores the size of dimes and even one on the inside of my left eye lid which is completely annoying. The good news is that I've dropped a couple of pounds because the foods I can eat are quite limited. I guess there is a bright side.

Didn't quite get to do what I wanted to do over the weekend. I figured it's better to err on the side of caution than do too much and get worse. Since I wasn't riding that much I did take some time to clean my closets. I tried on everything and got rid of everything else. I'm mainly just sharing this so I can tell you the odd shape my body has taken. I'm lighter on the scale than last summer and I fit into very few pairs of shorts. The reason: the singlespeed. No scientific experiment has been done, but trust me, it's the ss. My ass and thighs have grown. Granted I have an extra layer of fat wrapped around them (I'm working on it) but they've changed. Shorts I used to live in now look odd on me. Loose around the waist and skin tight around the ass and thighs. In an effort to make me feel better, Mike told me I'm starting to look strong like a big gear pushing singlespeeder/track sprinter/farm hand. Something also was said about being able to set a soda can on my ass when I'm standing. I know he was trying to be sweet and to him it was a compliment, but the same wave of horror came over me that I felt in high school when a track coach told me I was built to throw shot put and I should give it a try. I'm of hardy stock, what can I say? I'm actually digging the skirts my mother (she has an affinity for Title Nine and Athleta) has sent me over the past year because I don't have to deal with the ass and thigh issue. Now I just have to deal with the issue of people giving me shit for being in a skirt.

Time

It's that time of year when I start thinking about putting all of my winter stuff away. "Thinking about it,"  I said. As soon as I do,  I've pretty much damned us all to one more cold snap. So for right now it sits in a pile on the attic stairs waiting to be moved to its summer home. For those who know me well, you know that this might be where it stays until the fall.  Nobody uses the attic stairs, anyway. Well, besides Reggie's ghost friend, Ron, but that's a story for another day. I've made it my own personal cubby.  Ron will have to make do.

It's also that time of year when bug spray is a necessity. I try to use the natural stuff as much as possible because I hate the thought of DEET. I've found that not only do people comment on my eucalyptus-rosemary oil-meets-pine car freshener smell and glossy, oily appearance, the natural stuff doesn't last very long and I'm convinced that ticks like me more when I'm slathered in it. They are the very creatures I am trying to repel.

Leg sweat. It's time. Dripping down my shin before I get off my street. Enough said.

It's also now a requirement to make a trip here or here on the weekends for Italian ice or ice cream. No exceptions. Unless, of course we are out of town and then we have to find a suitable replacement. 

It's also time for some fun:



I didn't even have to rub her wheel or throw a shoulder. Jungle took care of it for me.

It's less than two weeks until Mohican. I have a bald rear tire and some other issues that I need to tend to. Nothing major. The big question is if I should wear my new shoes or not. I  really don't have a chance to really give them a true endurance test. I've worn them for a few hours so far and they feel good. I'm afraid at 6+ hours with hot, angry feet, the review might be different. I should probably go behind the house and hike on the Appalachian Trail with them for an hour or so. That would be a more realistic test for a hundie.

Prototype

My friend made me this today to tape to my top tube for Mohican. I'm thinking it may just be a winner.

El Creako

I'm not shocked that I'm having a flare-up. I'm actually surprised that it didn't happen sooner after Cohutta. I'm bummed because I wanted get in some quality training rides before Mohican. It still could happen. However, I'm a little doubtful with how I felt as of Friday. I knew I was in for some fun when I had the night sweats and mouth sores and my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I would go as far as saying I knew I was doomed when I was so weak I  had trouble holding the hair dryer to dry my hair before work. Of course, I still had a little hope after work and I tried to do a pre-race ride.  I knew the French Creek XC race wasn't happening. I was extremely tired and weak and everything hurt. Yet still I told myself maybe tomorrow. I know better. Tomorrow never happened and I ended up sleeping for 15 hours.

I have been stock piling the entire season of NCIS  (for times like these) and I started a little marathon and made the dent in the couch that much bigger over the weekend.  I managed to at least get outside on Sunday. After being tortured by Mike and company for a few hours, Jane called  me to come chill with her at the Wawayanda beach. I can honestly say that's the first time I've ever sat on or near the beach. The closest I came was practicing riding my cx bike over it and getting attacked by geese in the process. Some giggles and girl talk did make me feel a little better.


The other good thing that came out of the weekend is that I finally found the source of the dreaded creak that has been plaguing my rides. I've been referring to my bike as 'El Creako'.  I've gone as far as leaving the house on the bike and returning and grabbing another bike because I couldn't handle it. I localized it to the seat post and saddle region. Everything that could possibly be greased was and El Creako is now a thing of the past. It's pretty exciting stuff and you all should be really happy for me.

So now I wait, as usual, and not very patiently. Today I went to the doctor and he went over my blood work from a week ago and was shocked that I don't feel worse. I'm not sure how that's supposed to make me feel. Still no magic bullet or pill to take. Steroids can be a quick fix and they sometimes don't help, either. Plus, the side effects are not very pleasant. Time and rest  is the only thing that helps. I got the usual speech from him  that he sees people who have better blood work and less symptoms than I do who don't work and don't move. That doesn't make me feel better, either. I actually feel sorry for them because they're letting it win. But what do I know. I'm a person who is overly excited about the day (hopefully soon) that I can ride my non-creaking bike (Yay!) and inflict some good old fashioned self-induced pain. That makes me smile.

random

Some of my non-bike, non-exercising friends often ask me what I think about during a long ride or an endurance race and if I wear headphones so I don't go crazy. I've never been one for listening to music when I ride. I feel like it distracts me from the bike. I like to hear my breathing, the sounds of the outdoors and the sound of my bike rolling across the ground. It's soothing to me. I sometimes will take my iPod but it usually ends up annoying me and getting stuffed in my jersey pocket. I don't feel as connected when I listen to music. I am my own entertainment. I have a habit of singing along to the songs in my head horribly off key and way too loud. I always say it's because we live in bear country and it scares the bears away. Scares pretty much everything away, especially when I'm belting out some random Guns-n-Roses or Rick Springfield song (I didn't say I had good taste). I've been busted when I happened upon other riders or hikers. Now it's just a full blown issue. I used to keep this dirty little habit to myself, or try to. It's starting to get worse because I now do it when I ride with people.  It can't be a pleasant experience for those who can hear me.

Not only am I big on singing badly, but I also will blurt out random movie quotes. Some of my favorites include:

Who wants to see the trip tic?

I'm a mog: half man, half dog. I'm my own best friend!

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.

You're as bout useful as a poopy flavored lollipop. 

It rubs the lotion on the skin or else it gets the hose again.

As far as what I think about. Well, that's just full blown nutso like everyone else I'm sure (I hope). Tonight's installment of randomness went something like this:  Saw a grasshopper...Is there a grasshopper season? Seems early for grasshoppers...Mmmm. Grasshopper Pie...Crickets. Some people eat crickets, chocolate covered cricket probably wouldn't be bad...Jiminy Cricket...It would be cool if he could sit on my shoulder as I rode. Nah. He probably would annoy me. I wonder if he would poop on me like a parrot?...What are some other other storybook creatures...Dwarfs, Seven Dwarfs. Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, Grumpy, Sneezy, Sleazy...Shit. No. Google that when you get home...Three Little Pigs. Did they have names? Why don't I know this? Google that, too...Brady Bunch. This one I know. Greg, Bobby, Peter, Cindy, Marcia, Jan, Mike, Carol, Alice, Tiger, Sam the Butcher...Dinner, What's for dinner? Steak sounds good. Never mind. That would require going to the store. Definitely not going to the store like this. I would have to go in in my wet and muddy riding shoes and clothes. Dirty looks the last time I did that. I felt bad I dripped everywhere and made a mess, I hope that mean one who is always texting and calls me ma'am had to clean it up. That's mean, Jocelyn. Maybe she was having a bad day. No. She's always nasty....Nasty Girls, Janet Jackson. Oh, God. I really can't start singing that. That's bad even by my standards...Happy and Bashful, YES!!!

I may need help.

Heckler

This weekend was spent trying to work the junk out of my legs. Saturday, I went out and got good-n-muddy. Seeing how I hadn't washed my bike since Cohutta, I figured a muddy ride would motivate me to open the backyard bike wash.

Fun was had



The kinder, gentler side of Wawayanda

 Sunday, I rode over to Waway to be a heckler at the XC race.  I purposely took my other SS that had a gear too big to enjoy Waway, a non-braking front brake, and bald tires (my other bike was way too pretty and clean, anyway). I figure I wouldn't go crazy and want to ride the singletrack. If anything, I was going to ride the long way home and get in a little road time after the race. I guess we all know that didn't work. I ended up following the Cat 1 Ladies into the woods and then I would zig and zag through the course as to optimize my heckling.


Hecklers

I stopped to watch some men  in a rock garden near the start that gets a little cantankerous and slippery. Let's just say I broke out into a full on giggle fit. I couldn't help myself. I really don't know what came over me. I must have looked like I was having a psychotic break. I am actually horrified with myself. I was trying to be supportive and cheer them on because I know how much it hurts and that rock garden has made me want to throw my bike on occasions, but that ended when pretty much every one of them started yelling and shouting f-bombs at each other. The elbowing, the name calling, the over-the-bars, the gassed men mumbling obscenities in the first 20 minutes of a race. The carnage was a spectacle. Did I say there was screaming and yelling? Flats. Saddle bags exploding. Name calling. Threats, Seriously. One of the last last guys was struggling and I started to pedal off down the course to my next destination. He yelled at me to not impede him. I was like 40 yards in front of him and there were a few rock gardens between us. He was walking his bike at the time and sucking wind. Let me just say that I would never impede anyone racing. I was not even close to him. If I hear a racer coming I get off the trail, way off the trail. He cursed at me (I'm pretty sure there was something about lady on a SS mumbled under his breath). Then I heard him scream "AhhhhhhhhhhhFUCK!!!" and I heard bike and body hitting rocks. He was fine. I went back and made sure. I gave him a Gu and a pep talk and sent him on his way. Jerk. 

The final nail in my coffin was riding a lap with Alex after the race. Not sure what I was thinking. It may not bode well for my Cohutta recovery, but I sure had a good time.

Cabin In the Woods

The cabin we stayed in at Cohutta was advertised as being a luxury cabin. The company was also very proud of the fact that Floyd Landis had stayed there. We pulled up and we were horrified. I've stayed in some dumps in my time. This took the prize. It was a cabin of horrors (please read with a British accent because it makes it sound that much worse and it was that much worse). We opened the door and the smell of old, moldy, sweaty ass smacked us in the face. It was vile. I think the last time they washed the sheets was when Floyd Landis was there. We were all horrified. No wonder he had such a crappy performance. He had to stay here and listen to the neighborhood pit bull and cock fights all night as well as sleep in a cabin smelling of stale sweat and mildew.  Luckily, we were still slap happy from the travels and busted out laughing. It wasn't so funny when we got back from running errands and had to sleep the night before the race. I couldn't sleep. It was nightmarish. If you venture to Cohutta and someone tells you FL stayed there...DON'T. It would be better to sleep in your car or on the ground.

We actually burnt a pizza that night and smoked up the cabin and did the rental company a favor by making it smell better. The night after Cohutta it wasn't shocking that we all passed out in the filth.  I would have slept in the back of the truck in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. I inadvertently woke Jane up at 4 am when I announced to Mike (we both wear ear plugs so it was more like screaming) that I finally had a normal and satisfying pee. If you've ever done an endurance race you know what I'm talking about. Jane congratulated me on the feat a few hours later. She said she wanted to bang on the wall and shout, "Well done, mate!" She should have. I would have appreciated the support.

I've been taking it easy this week and trying to be nice to my body. Friends have been texting and emailing me this week asking if I'm gonna do the Waway race this weekend. Hell no!!! I mean, I would love to. It's my back yard. A normal person needs plenty of recovery form the 100s (unless they're of mutant status). I need a little extra time on top of normal, so I'm trying to not do anything that's gonna set me back or make me sick. Easier said than done. It's a good sign that I'm actually planning rides in my head already. After Shen last year I had a hard time looking at my bike. I'm chomping at the bit to get back on my bike for a workout and I'm also craving a good, technical trail ride. All those fire roads made me long for some technical singletrack. Luckily, I know just the place(s).