Think Pink

About a year ago I decided to put in a pink highlight in my hair.

I know...I'm closer to 40 then to 16, but I had this complete yearning for a streak of pink in my hair.  I loved it.  I felt spunky and I thought it was beautiful.  Over the last year I've not only tried pink, but also crimson red, and electric blue.  And I've tried a couple different brands of hair color too.  My favorite brand is Manic Panic. 

Earlier this year I took the color out and just kept a streak of bleached/blond.  It was fine, more grown up and adult like.

Totally grown-up, right?  But not exactly me.  Last night Nathan helped me go back to pink.  I love pink! And I don't do it because I think I'm a teenager rebelling against my parents and/or 'The Man'.  I do it because I think it's pretty and I like the way I feel. 

Which brings me to another subject...my tutus.  I like the way I feel in them too, but have only worn tutus to my sporting events (mountain bike racing and the Ragnar).  Is wearing a tutu out in public on a regular basis just too much?  I'm still debating that one.

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!

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.

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.