I mentally and physically crave a bike
I miss it so bad it hurts and I'm totally lost without it. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I don't know how to be.
~The MFP
Showing posts with label mountain biking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mountain biking. Show all posts
I Need a New Drug
I'm tense. I'm feeling cagey. I'm angry and distraught. I'm cranky, irritable, and feel distant from people. In between bouts of anger and self-loathing, I feel guilty. I should be counting my blessings (or my unicorns as a blogger friend calls them). I have so much to be thankful for. But instead I'm standing in the entryway of my house, in tears. Not just the misty-eye type tears I normally have, we're talking full-on-crazy-longing-mourning-hysterical tears. All because...
I mentally and physically crave a bikeride race. I need to feel the wind on my face. I want my legs to scream at me while climbing giant hills. I want to shred rock gardens and jump logs. I want to dare myself to take drops I never thought I could. I want sweat pouring down my face and mud on my tutu. I want to be at the starting line when my boys take off. I want to run to the next spectator area on the track so I can scream and cheer for them again and again. I want to 'holla' for my fellow bikers and take pictures of my kid on the podium. I want to eat chicken salad sandwiches near the hot dusty track. I want my calendar full. I want plans. I want reasons why I *need* to take time for myself, not reasons why I can't.
I miss it so bad it hurts and I'm totally lost without it. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I don't know how to be.
I mentally and physically crave a bike
I miss it so bad it hurts and I'm totally lost without it. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I don't know how to be.
Ballerina Feet
You may be wondering where are all the updates about Phase 3. Well, there aren't any. I broke my toe last Sunday night (10/24) and I've done nothing but pout about it since. I mean really.....how many freaking injuries do my feet need?!?!?
And do you remember how I said I wasn't going to do any stupid diet thing? If all I'm going to do is pout about my feet, I just might actually have to do the 'diet' thing.
And do you remember how I said I wasn't going to do any stupid diet thing? If all I'm going to do is pout about my feet, I just might actually have to do the 'diet' thing.
The Finale
Just over a week ago I finished my first mountain bike season. I wasn't really sure if I was going to make it. I had bruised my heel during my first run of the Ragnar Relay and it hadn't gotten completely better yet, in fact it hadn't gotten better at all. After wavering back and forth, I decided what the heck, one more ride probably wouldn't injure it further. I would take it easy and slow. I would be gentle to myself and allow myself to finish the race (and the season) without further injury.
Race day came. It was cool and wet, another mud race. As we lined up I noticed that only two of the four ladies I've been racing with all season showed up. Hmph....I'm guaranteed to get a medal today! How cool is that? We took off and I continued with my plan of a leisurely ride....maybe a little too leisurely. About half way through the race I 'remembered' I was RACING and kicked it into high gear. I finished the race not last and without more injuries! YAY for me!
I was full of optimism, pride, joy, and I was in awe of everything I had accomplished throughout the season. I did it. I biked the whole season with only one DNF. Last Spring I started out over-weight and out of shape. I've lost a lot of weight and I'm now close to being in the best shape of my life. I started the season needing to ride the first race course as many times as possible through out the month before the race. I ended my last race with only having pre-ridden two laps on the course. I started out huffing and puffing my way up the hills. I now wonder where all the hills have gone? I used to walk everything that looked hard or scary. I ended the year by going over logs, rocks, and even the dreaded drop berm. And even though I still ended the year battling for not-last-place, I cannot describe to you how truly proud I am of myself.
This is something that's hard for me to say: I am truly proud of myself.
I did something amazing.
I am an athlete.
I can race.
I can do just about anything.
I'm proud of myself and I can't wait for next year - who knows, maybe I'll even get a medal for doing more then just showing up.
Race day came. It was cool and wet, another mud race. As we lined up I noticed that only two of the four ladies I've been racing with all season showed up. Hmph....I'm guaranteed to get a medal today! How cool is that? We took off and I continued with my plan of a leisurely ride....maybe a little too leisurely. About half way through the race I 'remembered' I was RACING and kicked it into high gear. I finished the race not last and without more injuries! YAY for me!
I was full of optimism, pride, joy, and I was in awe of everything I had accomplished throughout the season. I did it. I biked the whole season with only one DNF. Last Spring I started out over-weight and out of shape. I've lost a lot of weight and I'm now close to being in the best shape of my life. I started the season needing to ride the first race course as many times as possible through out the month before the race. I ended my last race with only having pre-ridden two laps on the course. I started out huffing and puffing my way up the hills. I now wonder where all the hills have gone? I used to walk everything that looked hard or scary. I ended the year by going over logs, rocks, and even the dreaded drop berm. And even though I still ended the year battling for not-last-place, I cannot describe to you how truly proud I am of myself.
This is something that's hard for me to say: I am truly proud of myself.
I did something amazing.
I am an athlete.
I can race.
I can do just about anything.
I'm proud of myself and I can't wait for next year - who knows, maybe I'll even get a medal for doing more then just showing up.
Joy Ride
I've been a bit moody the last few weeks. I wasn't really sure what it was, but I might have figured it out last night on my bike ride. I think it's because I've been in a constant state of 'not-really-all-that-great'.
I mountain bike and I basically battle it out for not-last-place every race. I have yet to have a race where I'm middle of the pack, let alone close to first. I raced Ragnar. Our team's only expectations were to survive. We knew we weren't going to win our division (most of us probably don't even know what division we were in) and we weren't exactly the most creative/spirited team - although we did get a lot of props for the tutus.
So I've been working my ass off all spring and summer to be 'not-really-all-that-great'. It sucks. I want to feel like I can do anything. I want to feel strong and lean. I want to feel powerful and graceful at the same time. I want to be proud of myself. And I get it....I *get* that just getting out there is great and that I have a lot to be proud of and I am strong and graceful. BUT...I want more. I want to be good...no, I want to be great. I want to be great at...something.
Last night we went mountain biking. We went to our 'home' course. We left the two younger kids at home, they were tired. It was just Nathan, The Social Guy, and Me. The plan was; I was going to ride the whole trail once, and the two boys would ride the whole trail, plus an additional hard loop. We pulled up to the trail and when we started to get our gear on, The Social Guy realized he didn't bring his biking shoes. He can't go biking without his biking shoes. We decided that Nathan and I would still bike, but just shorten our ride. Nathan would do the whole trail and I would do the medium loop twice.
OH MY GOD....I had one of the best rides of my life. The trail was just challenging enough to keep my interested and I flew like a mother fucker. I felt I had wings. I just glided along the trail, up and down the hills, over rocks and between the trees. No one passed me. I got out to the clearing at the end of my first loop and tears streamed down my face. THIS IS WHAT IT'S SUPPOSED TO FEEL LIKE! I went for a second lap and again, had the time of my life. I was not only good last night on the trail, I was great.
This is me, after my ride. It's a pretty bad picture, but I can't be great at everything :)
I mountain bike and I basically battle it out for not-last-place every race. I have yet to have a race where I'm middle of the pack, let alone close to first. I raced Ragnar. Our team's only expectations were to survive. We knew we weren't going to win our division (most of us probably don't even know what division we were in) and we weren't exactly the most creative/spirited team - although we did get a lot of props for the tutus.
So I've been working my ass off all spring and summer to be 'not-really-all-that-great'. It sucks. I want to feel like I can do anything. I want to feel strong and lean. I want to feel powerful and graceful at the same time. I want to be proud of myself. And I get it....I *get* that just getting out there is great and that I have a lot to be proud of and I am strong and graceful. BUT...I want more. I want to be good...no, I want to be great. I want to be great at...something.
Last night we went mountain biking. We went to our 'home' course. We left the two younger kids at home, they were tired. It was just Nathan, The Social Guy, and Me. The plan was; I was going to ride the whole trail once, and the two boys would ride the whole trail, plus an additional hard loop. We pulled up to the trail and when we started to get our gear on, The Social Guy realized he didn't bring his biking shoes. He can't go biking without his biking shoes. We decided that Nathan and I would still bike, but just shorten our ride. Nathan would do the whole trail and I would do the medium loop twice.
OH MY GOD....I had one of the best rides of my life. The trail was just challenging enough to keep my interested and I flew like a mother fucker. I felt I had wings. I just glided along the trail, up and down the hills, over rocks and between the trees. No one passed me. I got out to the clearing at the end of my first loop and tears streamed down my face. THIS IS WHAT IT'S SUPPOSED TO FEEL LIKE! I went for a second lap and again, had the time of my life. I was not only good last night on the trail, I was great.
This is me, after my ride. It's a pretty bad picture, but I can't be great at everything :)
Awesomeness
A couple weeks ago I had the pleasure of mountain bike training with two of my friends. Both are new to the sport. One of them had been mountain biking once before and the other one, well it was her first time. I warned them the week prior to the bike ride that if they saw anything they didn't want to go over they could just hop off their bikes and walk. This was to be a no pressure ride...let's just have a good time.
Well, these girls got on the course and went completely mad! They ripped up the hills and jumped over rocks and logs. They even took this drop/berm here:
(Do you see how steep that drop is? It's about a five foot, mostly vertical drop!)
They didn't think anything of it. They didn't know they were *supposed* to walk down that hill and over that berm.
It's all good though. I was riding behind them and when I caught up to them, I made sure to show them how to get off their bikes and walk. Do you know what these girls did? They encouraged me to take the drop on the next lap.
Again we went around and I panicked. "I'm supposed to walk down all the scary parts." These women didn't let up. They told me to back my bike up and try again. They said I could do this. I took another false start. I pointed out the fallen tree that my head might hit when I took the berm (look again at the photo). They assured me I would not hit the tree and mentioned how they had both already done it and neither of them had hit the tree. These ladies were just not buying any of my reasoning and common sense. I took a deep breath and backed my bike up again. I pedaled up to the drop and...
I DID IT! Full of adrenaline and excitement I screamed at my friends, "YOU'RE SO AWESOME!" They screamed back, "YOU ARE AWESOME!" Then I screamed, "YOU ARE AWESOME!" This round of awesomeness went on for awhile and then we collapsed in a fit of giggles because we are all just so awesome.
My vision that day was stretched beyond what I ever thought possible. I did things that day that made my heart soar and I finally felt like a 'real' mountain biker.
Well, these girls got on the course and went completely mad! They ripped up the hills and jumped over rocks and logs. They even took this drop/berm here:
They didn't think anything of it. They didn't know they were *supposed* to walk down that hill and over that berm.
It's all good though. I was riding behind them and when I caught up to them, I made sure to show them how to get off their bikes and walk. Do you know what these girls did? They encouraged me to take the drop on the next lap.
Again we went around and I panicked. "I'm supposed to walk down all the scary parts." These women didn't let up. They told me to back my bike up and try again. They said I could do this. I took another false start. I pointed out the fallen tree that my head might hit when I took the berm (look again at the photo). They assured me I would not hit the tree and mentioned how they had both already done it and neither of them had hit the tree. These ladies were just not buying any of my reasoning and common sense. I took a deep breath and backed my bike up again. I pedaled up to the drop and...
I DID IT! Full of adrenaline and excitement I screamed at my friends, "YOU'RE SO AWESOME!" They screamed back, "YOU ARE AWESOME!" Then I screamed, "YOU ARE AWESOME!" This round of awesomeness went on for awhile and then we collapsed in a fit of giggles because we are all just so awesome.
My vision that day was stretched beyond what I ever thought possible. I did things that day that made my heart soar and I finally felt like a 'real' mountain biker.
Crossroads
Yesterday while training for my Sunday mountain bike race, things became really hard. I was face to face with the fact that mountain biking (and racing) is hard...like really fucking hard. And it gets a bit discouraging to think that I am working so hard to get 'not last place'. It's a lot easier to do something when you know you're going to win, be close to winning, or be in the middle of the pack (so no one knows how bad you are).
When I first decided to mountain bike race it was March/April and I weighed 220+ pounds. I wanted to lose weight and I thought racing would be a great motivator to get me out there exercising. I definitely have that little (some times big) part inside of me that likes to compete, so it should have been a great match. But...
I haven't really been in competition and I am just under 200 pounds. It's not exactly what I expected. In fact, my expectations were more like vying for second/third in my age group and by this time weighing close to 170 pounds.
I don't feel like I can continue where I'm at, which is exercising like an athlete, but eating and drinking like a rock star. I don't want to quit exercising and racing (or my goal of weight loss - which would make competing easier). But the call of glasses upon glasses of wine and rich food is sometimes just too good to resist...
When I first decided to mountain bike race it was March/April and I weighed 220+ pounds. I wanted to lose weight and I thought racing would be a great motivator to get me out there exercising. I definitely have that little (some times big) part inside of me that likes to compete, so it should have been a great match. But...
I haven't really been in competition and I am just under 200 pounds. It's not exactly what I expected. In fact, my expectations were more like vying for second/third in my age group and by this time weighing close to 170 pounds.
I don't feel like I can continue where I'm at, which is exercising like an athlete, but eating and drinking like a rock star. I don't want to quit exercising and racing (or my goal of weight loss - which would make competing easier). But the call of glasses upon glasses of wine and rich food is sometimes just too good to resist...
DNF...Been There Done That!
Last weekend we mountain bike raced at a very challenging course, Afton Alps. The course had crazy up hills and tons of technical, steep, rocky down hills. I was really nervous for it. Although I practiced the course twice before the race, I actually never practiced a full lap. I mentally prepared myself though and imagined riding all the obstacles and making it down all the narly hills.
Race day came and I thought it would be best to leave my tutu at home - this is a serious course and it would require all of my concentration. I was very nervous, but I knew I would try hard and do my best. My best included walking my bike up several hills and down just a couple of them. I wasn't alone. Lots of people in my class were walking up and down those same hills. There was a tough battle going on between me and about three other riders for 'not-last-place'.
Towards the end of my first lap the leaders of the race had caught up to me. I was being lapped. The first rider was completely nice about it and waited for me to get down a long, steep hill before he announced his pass, then passed me. The second rider passed me shortly after the first. He announced his pass and took me on the left. Just as he passed me, my bike slipped out from under me and I fell to the ground. I let out a small screech and he looked back at me, told me he was sorry, and asked if I was okay. I told him I was fine and it wasn't his fault, it was mine. I got back on my bike and was just starting to take off when the third rider came up behind me and said, "Get off the trail, please!"
This is when I lost it. I screamed back, "I just wiped out!!!" He passed me and I continued on my journey. I made it down the long fast hill at the end and then took a berm a little too high and a little too slow. I did a slow motion wipe out in front of *everyone*. I picked my bike up, determined and strong? No, I gave up. I walked off the trail, with a broken heart and hurt pride. I felt I didn't belong. I wasn't good enough. I was too fat and out of shape. I was a silly girl to think I could race...
Although I tried to be kind and gentle with myself for walking off the course that day, I carried these feelings of 'not good enough' with me all last week. I debated on whether or not I would race again on Sunday. A day before the race I finally committed.
The race started and again I battled for 'not-last-place'. Again I walked my bike up and down the same hills as everyone else. Again I got lapped by the leaders of the race. But this time it was different. This time I would not give up. I would hold my head high and smile at those who passed me, wishing them a good ride. This time I would finish the race and it would take everything inside of me to do so. This time me and my tutu would get our much deserved medal...
From now on, if this Mother Freakin' Princess lines up at the starting line, you can bet your ass she's going finish the race!
Race day came and I thought it would be best to leave my tutu at home - this is a serious course and it would require all of my concentration. I was very nervous, but I knew I would try hard and do my best. My best included walking my bike up several hills and down just a couple of them. I wasn't alone. Lots of people in my class were walking up and down those same hills. There was a tough battle going on between me and about three other riders for 'not-last-place'.
Towards the end of my first lap the leaders of the race had caught up to me. I was being lapped. The first rider was completely nice about it and waited for me to get down a long, steep hill before he announced his pass, then passed me. The second rider passed me shortly after the first. He announced his pass and took me on the left. Just as he passed me, my bike slipped out from under me and I fell to the ground. I let out a small screech and he looked back at me, told me he was sorry, and asked if I was okay. I told him I was fine and it wasn't his fault, it was mine. I got back on my bike and was just starting to take off when the third rider came up behind me and said, "Get off the trail, please!"
This is when I lost it. I screamed back, "I just wiped out!!!" He passed me and I continued on my journey. I made it down the long fast hill at the end and then took a berm a little too high and a little too slow. I did a slow motion wipe out in front of *everyone*. I picked my bike up, determined and strong? No, I gave up. I walked off the trail, with a broken heart and hurt pride. I felt I didn't belong. I wasn't good enough. I was too fat and out of shape. I was a silly girl to think I could race...
Although I tried to be kind and gentle with myself for walking off the course that day, I carried these feelings of 'not good enough' with me all last week. I debated on whether or not I would race again on Sunday. A day before the race I finally committed.
The race started and again I battled for 'not-last-place'. Again I walked my bike up and down the same hills as everyone else. Again I got lapped by the leaders of the race. But this time it was different. This time I would not give up. I would hold my head high and smile at those who passed me, wishing them a good ride. This time I would finish the race and it would take everything inside of me to do so. This time me and my tutu would get our much deserved medal...
First Race of the Year
It's been almost a week since my first mountain bike race and I haven't been able to blog about it. I think it's because the 'story' didn't end the way I though it should have.
In my world, the MFPrincess wins first, second, or even third place and bounds up the podium in her fancy electric blue tutu to collect her medal. The crowd goes completely wild and she not only gets kudos for winning a medal, but she also receives multiple compliments on her sense of fashion and fun.
In the real world, the race went something like this: The MFPrincess thought she was in third place (for her catagory, not over-all) for most of the race. She could see second place just ahead of her and during the last lap of the race really pushed and gave it every thing she had. The Princess was riding faster then ever before and just knew she would be able to pass the girl in second place. As she was speeding down the trail, she took a sharp, uphill, left turn that her bike didn't agree with. The Princess slammed down to the earth and severely twisted her ankle. She got up, brushed herself off, and refused to cry (or give up). Very carefully she got back on her bike. She took slow and painful pedals. Even though she knew her chances for second place were gone, she wanted to finish the race. While climbing the last hill, The Princess was passed by a girl in a neon pink top and neon blue stretch pants. She did not yell at this girl, "What do you think this is, 1987?" Instead she said, "Finish strong!"
Later at home, while I was counting my bruises and icing my ankle, I found out that I did not finish in fourth place like I thought. I was seventh, which makes me feel a little sad. Not sad enough to quit, but I am just a bit sad.
*The MFPrincess was complemented several times for her fancy tutu.
In my world, the MFPrincess wins first, second, or even third place and bounds up the podium in her fancy electric blue tutu to collect her medal. The crowd goes completely wild and she not only gets kudos for winning a medal, but she also receives multiple compliments on her sense of fashion and fun.
In the real world, the race went something like this: The MFPrincess thought she was in third place (for her catagory, not over-all) for most of the race. She could see second place just ahead of her and during the last lap of the race really pushed and gave it every thing she had. The Princess was riding faster then ever before and just knew she would be able to pass the girl in second place. As she was speeding down the trail, she took a sharp, uphill, left turn that her bike didn't agree with. The Princess slammed down to the earth and severely twisted her ankle. She got up, brushed herself off, and refused to cry (or give up). Very carefully she got back on her bike. She took slow and painful pedals. Even though she knew her chances for second place were gone, she wanted to finish the race. While climbing the last hill, The Princess was passed by a girl in a neon pink top and neon blue stretch pants. She did not yell at this girl, "What do you think this is, 1987?" Instead she said, "Finish strong!"
Later at home, while I was counting my bruises and icing my ankle, I found out that I did not finish in fourth place like I thought. I was seventh, which makes me feel a little sad. Not sad enough to quit, but I am just a bit sad.
*The MFPrincess was complemented several times for her fancy tutu.
The Perfect Bubble Bath
After a long weekend of mountain bike racing (which included: Me being 115th out of 131 people in my race over all and *the biggest wipe out* I have ever had in the three years I have been trail riding), barbecuing, and resting, I decided to draw myself a nice hot bubble bath.
My recipe for the "Perfect Bath" is as follows:
Plenty of Hot Water
Large Glass of Wine
Good Book
Candle
Bubbles
Razor (just in case I decide to shave)
While I was in the mood for a "Perfect Bath", I knew I was already short a few key ingredients: wine, candle, good book (I only had a mediocre book available), and bubbles. But I am resourceful and remembered I had some shower gel stashed away for camping. I grabbed a travel sized bottle of pink colored gel and squeezed out a generous amount for bubbles. I stepped into the hot water, sat down, grabbed the book, and started to relax.
I was about ten minutes into my bath and I started to notice a grainy sort of feel. Great, I'm bathing in sand. All I can think about is how nasty it is to bath in someone's dirt...gross. I decided to stay in the tub long enough to shave my legs, then I could take a shower *after* my bath to get rid of the sand. I push the button on the shaving cream, only to find out it was empty. No problem. I'll just use the shower gel I used earlier to make bubbles:
Caress Tahitian Renewal SILKENING BODY WASH Exfoliating Pomegranate Seeds & Tahitian Palm Milk
Did you see that small print at the end? Exfoliating Pomegranate Seeds & Tahitian Palm Milk
I guess I wasn't bathing in someone's dirt. I was bathing in fruit seeds...I still showered after my bath.
My recipe for the "Perfect Bath" is as follows:
Plenty of Hot Water
Large Glass of Wine
Good Book
Candle
Bubbles
Razor (just in case I decide to shave)
While I was in the mood for a "Perfect Bath", I knew I was already short a few key ingredients: wine, candle, good book (I only had a mediocre book available), and bubbles. But I am resourceful and remembered I had some shower gel stashed away for camping. I grabbed a travel sized bottle of pink colored gel and squeezed out a generous amount for bubbles. I stepped into the hot water, sat down, grabbed the book, and started to relax.
I was about ten minutes into my bath and I started to notice a grainy sort of feel. Great, I'm bathing in sand. All I can think about is how nasty it is to bath in someone's dirt...gross. I decided to stay in the tub long enough to shave my legs, then I could take a shower *after* my bath to get rid of the sand. I push the button on the shaving cream, only to find out it was empty. No problem. I'll just use the shower gel I used earlier to make bubbles:
Caress Tahitian Renewal SILKENING BODY WASH Exfoliating Pomegranate Seeds & Tahitian Palm Milk
Did you see that small print at the end? Exfoliating Pomegranate Seeds & Tahitian Palm Milk
I guess I wasn't bathing in someone's dirt. I was bathing in fruit seeds...I still showered after my bath.
Really?!?!
Our first mountain bike race is this Saturday (AGH!) and we have a few things to do before the race. One of the things I want to try is being 'clipped' into my bike. It's kinda scary and exciting at the same time. My bike and I will be *one*...unless I get into trouble and I un-clip myself or...while I'm in trouble, I momentarily forget how to un-clip and continue being *one* with my bike all the way down the side of the hill...
Anyway, we went to a local bike shop (Erik's Bike Shop) yesterday to get a few last minute things I decided I needed before the race. Our first stop was the Erik's Bike Shop in Burnsville. Our whole family walked through the doors and headed straight for the shoe section. A nice young gal came up to us and asked us if we needed help. I said, "Yes, I'm going to buy some shoes." Nathan had already picked out a pair of shoes for me to try on. She grabbed the size we requested and we talked about shoes. Nathan mentioned the words "mountain shoes" several times during the conversation. I finally found a pair I liked and she says, "Are these for spin class? Do you need cleats?"
NO, I DO NOT NEED THEM FOR SPIN CLASS! I MOUNTAIN BIKE! HENCE THE WORDS "MOUNTAIN SHOES" SEVERAL TIMES IN OUR CONVERSATION! (I did not actually yell this out loud, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Our next destination was the Erik's bike shop in Bloomington. Here, Nathan and I were perusing the glove section of the store. As we're looking through the women's gloves another nice young lady comes up to us to see if we needed any help. I continue to look through the gloves and Nathan asks her if they have any gloves with the loop on them to help you get them off your hands? She finds a pair with webbing that does the same kind of thing and then says to us, "But these are woman's gloves."
NO KIDDING! I AM A WOMAN AND I AM LOOKING AT GLOVES AND I FREAKING MOUNTAIN BIKE...BIATCH! (Ok, I didn't say this either, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Maybe because Nathan was doing most of the talking these women thought the mountain shoes and the gloves were for him? Maybe because I showed up in the store wearing a skirt and ballet slippers (and the fact that I am still flirting with the 200 pound mark) makes these women think I couldn't possibly be out on the mountain bike course...well I am. And this Saturday I will be out there with my new shoes, my new gloves, and my mother freaking tutu.
Anyway, we went to a local bike shop (Erik's Bike Shop) yesterday to get a few last minute things I decided I needed before the race. Our first stop was the Erik's Bike Shop in Burnsville. Our whole family walked through the doors and headed straight for the shoe section. A nice young gal came up to us and asked us if we needed help. I said, "Yes, I'm going to buy some shoes." Nathan had already picked out a pair of shoes for me to try on. She grabbed the size we requested and we talked about shoes. Nathan mentioned the words "mountain shoes" several times during the conversation. I finally found a pair I liked and she says, "Are these for spin class? Do you need cleats?"
NO, I DO NOT NEED THEM FOR SPIN CLASS! I MOUNTAIN BIKE! HENCE THE WORDS "MOUNTAIN SHOES" SEVERAL TIMES IN OUR CONVERSATION! (I did not actually yell this out loud, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Our next destination was the Erik's bike shop in Bloomington. Here, Nathan and I were perusing the glove section of the store. As we're looking through the women's gloves another nice young lady comes up to us to see if we needed any help. I continue to look through the gloves and Nathan asks her if they have any gloves with the loop on them to help you get them off your hands? She finds a pair with webbing that does the same kind of thing and then says to us, "But these are woman's gloves."
NO KIDDING! I AM A WOMAN AND I AM LOOKING AT GLOVES AND I FREAKING MOUNTAIN BIKE...BIATCH! (Ok, I didn't say this either, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Maybe because Nathan was doing most of the talking these women thought the mountain shoes and the gloves were for him? Maybe because I showed up in the store wearing a skirt and ballet slippers (and the fact that I am still flirting with the 200 pound mark) makes these women think I couldn't possibly be out on the mountain bike course...well I am. And this Saturday I will be out there with my new shoes, my new gloves, and my mother freaking tutu.
New Trail
We rode a new (well, new 'this year') mountain bike trail today. Yes, it's a trail I have ridden before. And yes, I have pretty much been kicking ass so far with my bike. So it was only logical to think that I could ride the 'hard trail' at this park. I mean, come on! When you add the easy, medium, and hard trails together it only adds up to just over ten miles. I can do that.
I had it in my head that I was going to kick ass on my time and I started out great. The easy part of the trail was exactly what it said it was...easy. I got to the medium part and I walked my bike over the first obstacle. No biggie. They put these crazy first obstacles out there to scare the pants off you. I was not scared. I took the first turn of the course just fine and then there was the second turn. Fail. I quazi wiped out and as I did, I felt a stabbing pain in my left quad. Crap. Okay, no biggie. I can ride through a bit of pain (actually I could ride through a lot of pain). I continue the ride, cussing up each hill, and decide to hang out by the hard trail interchange until Nathan and The Brainiac comes along. I'm injured and it's okay if I just finish the medium trail with the kid.
I got to the hard/medium interchange and decided I would stretch. After stretching I felt much better. I can do this! I hopped back on my bike and took off down the hard trail. OMG! The hard trail was fucking hard. The hills were unreal and the obstacles were intense. My thigh was burning up each hill, but I'm stubborn. I figured I could make this. I cried a lot during this ride. Some for my thigh, some for my friends (which is not a future post, but still it's something to cry about), some for me. This whole ride was a mess.
I'd love to end this story something like: "and with thigh pain, sweat, and tears I rode on and finished the trail!" But that's not how this story ends. At just over the six mile mark I wiped out again and pulled the quad really bad. A road was visible from the trail several yards back. I limped my way back to that part of the trail. I got my bike, and my ass through the fence and rode the gravel road back to the trail head. I gave it every thing I had...it just wasn't enough. I may be pretty freaking good, but I'm not quite the shiznit yet...
(I took this picture after I pulled myself together from one of my crying fits. I think it's pretty.)
I had it in my head that I was going to kick ass on my time and I started out great. The easy part of the trail was exactly what it said it was...easy. I got to the medium part and I walked my bike over the first obstacle. No biggie. They put these crazy first obstacles out there to scare the pants off you. I was not scared. I took the first turn of the course just fine and then there was the second turn. Fail. I quazi wiped out and as I did, I felt a stabbing pain in my left quad. Crap. Okay, no biggie. I can ride through a bit of pain (actually I could ride through a lot of pain). I continue the ride, cussing up each hill, and decide to hang out by the hard trail interchange until Nathan and The Brainiac comes along. I'm injured and it's okay if I just finish the medium trail with the kid.
I got to the hard/medium interchange and decided I would stretch. After stretching I felt much better. I can do this! I hopped back on my bike and took off down the hard trail. OMG! The hard trail was fucking hard. The hills were unreal and the obstacles were intense. My thigh was burning up each hill, but I'm stubborn. I figured I could make this. I cried a lot during this ride. Some for my thigh, some for my friends (which is not a future post, but still it's something to cry about), some for me. This whole ride was a mess.
I'd love to end this story something like: "and with thigh pain, sweat, and tears I rode on and finished the trail!" But that's not how this story ends. At just over the six mile mark I wiped out again and pulled the quad really bad. A road was visible from the trail several yards back. I limped my way back to that part of the trail. I got my bike, and my ass through the fence and rode the gravel road back to the trail head. I gave it every thing I had...it just wasn't enough. I may be pretty freaking good, but I'm not quite the shiznit yet...
(I took this picture after I pulled myself together from one of my crying fits. I think it's pretty.)
Tough Competitor
I'll admit it, I like to compete. I've never been the kind of athlete or student to be 'first', so I've always competed, mostly, with myself - or for the coveted 'not-last-place' spot.
I'm going to try my luck at mountain bike racing this summer. I started out saying things like:
"I hope I can do this."
"This will be fun."
"I'm just doing this to keep me motivated to lose weight."
"My goal is to finish the race."
I have now resorted to, "What were the times of the girls who raced in my class (at this course) last year?!?!?" Yep, I did the math. I made an excel sheet. I'm tracking it and I am training for first place.
I'm going to try my luck at mountain bike racing this summer. I started out saying things like:
"I hope I can do this."
"This will be fun."
"I'm just doing this to keep me motivated to lose weight."
"My goal is to finish the race."
I have now resorted to, "What were the times of the girls who raced in my class (at this course) last year?!?!?" Yep, I did the math. I made an excel sheet. I'm tracking it and I am training for first place.
