Category Archives: bike racing

The Pure Pimping of George

Posted on February 21, 2012 | Leave a comment

People were freaking (FREAKING!) about the alleged selling of Christian (because they know me well enough to know that I will cry with the passion of a thousand suns as soon as he is sold)…and no one wants to hear that.

…so I have taken him off the market and am only selling George.

George is a pretty futha mucka, but the market is narrowed as he is a WSD hottie.

(If you don’t know what that means, it means he is for the ladies, not the mans…unless you like to roll that way and that is fine too.  A bike is a bike, which is what women are told all the time when sold “unisex” bikes so there you go.)

He is pretty, yes?  Manly colors of black and white and no flowers, unicorns, or sparkles anywhere…so obviously Andy and Frank are passing on this amazing bike and are riding Treks.

(LOTS of sparkle there!)*

George is man enough to boast a 54cm WSD FACT IS frame and is one skinny bitch.

Here are his stats: 2010  Specialized  S-Works Amira

The only things I have changed from stock are the saddle and the crankset.

You have two options on the crankset if buying George…

You either buy him with the Quarq Cinco compact and SRAM 172.5 carbon cranks, or you buy him without it and get your own crankset because I sold the Specialized S-Works, 50/34 that came with him.

(You may also just buy the Quarq Cinco without the bike.  We can discuss this later.)

I have zero issues with George and love him…but I rarely ride him and I sure as hell don’t race him.

George has been in 4 races.  FOUR!

(Two crits in 2010 after the purchase and two in 2011 just to make sure I still hated crits.  I do.)

George has never been crashed or given a dirty look.

He rides the hilly county roads and avoids the city except the rare times when he  craves a little “strange” and chaos and heads east.

He is an amazingly comfortable bike even on long hilly rides and as much as I hate to admit that I enjoyed the Dura Ace experience because I am a SRAM girl, I did.  If I had not, I would have switched him out.  There.  I said it.  My name is Gory Dreadmond and I do not mind riding Dura Ace.

He is kept indoors (living room, not garage) when not touring St. Louis and Franklin counties and has never been used as a clothes rack…oddly enough.

Recently he toured Ft. Wayne, IN (one of the most boring cycling places on earth because they have these weird things called ” bike paths”) and he seemed really happy just to be off the trainer.  He’s adorable and very agreeable.

If you know me, you know how often/little I ride this bike.  If you don’t know me, that is sad for you because I am AWESOME…and so are my bikes.

OK, so George is a pricey bitch at $5,500.00 USD with the Quarq, but again…you are getting the Quarq.  Duh.

$4,400.00 without the Quarq.

Do not confuse the two prices unless you delight in having people laugh in your face…as I will do that.  I have no filters.  Believe.

OK, there you go.  Contact me at gorydreadmond (at) gmail (dot) com with any questions.

PS: I am taking the pink bottle cage, so you are on your own there.  Don’t cry.

*The Trek WSD Madone that I owned had both pink and sparkle.  Don’t hate.

**I will ship this bike in the continental U.S.  Outside of that you will have to pony up some coin or come and get him.

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Posted in bicycles, bike racing, Life

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Christian For Sale – UPDATED

Posted on February 21, 2012 | Leave a comment

:: UPDATE::

I have taken Christian off the market.  I am not ready to sell him and since I have listed George, I am just going to go that route.  Sorry for being a tease; I just love Christian too much to let him go.  Peace.

With a heavy heart I must post that I have decided to sell Christian, my beloved, amazing and beautiful CX god of a bike.

While I think I would rather sell George, the completely useless road bike…

…I realize that George is more practical for the acquiring of the almighty base miles and the everlasting sitting on the trainer.

I think.

I don’t know.

*shrugs*

I think maybe I feel that George just isn’t as hot as Christian and that people will actually want Christian because George is really just another roadie…and really, who needs that?

I kid.  George is also pretty.  Thank god.

*sigh*

Christian has brought me much happiness and a few podiums in the short time that I have had him (one cx season).

He has been cheered by fans at the National level and he likes to party.

I am buzzed in this photo taken at CX Nats and carrying a flask.

He is light as fuck, because let us be honest, my ass sure is not particularly fast and somehow I passed a racer or two from time to time to win beer and those adorable ribbon/medal thingies…I credit Christian.

If you are already a fast bike racer, Christian will bring you many “happy endings” and frankly yields better results than puppies and babies as far as conversation starters.  (I have both.  Trust me on this.)

No one has ever stopped me to talk about my road bike.  Case rested.

Christian looks great in photos and will make your people think you are “pro”.

He can do anything (ANYTHING!)*

You should have him…but only if you intend to race him.  The last person to whom I sold a cx bike not only let it fly off her roof rack (not her fault) but also never raced him… the poor dear.

Here is the skinny on Christian:

He is a 50cm 2012 Ridley X-Night frame:

He has:

  • 1.5” oversized lower head tube bearing and fork crown for superior control and stiffness;
  • Mudless tube technology on fork and seat stays;
  • Fully integrated Kevlar cable guides for smooth shifting and longer cable life;
  • Fully replaceable CNC rear drop outs for improved shifting and durability
  • BB30 bottom bracket reduces q-factor and weight whilst increasing stiffness;

More data is here:  RIDLEY X-NIGHT 2012 FRAMESET

Christian is being sold as a complete bike.  SRAM Force shifters and front derailleur and Rival in the rear.  SRAM cranks.  Pedals and saddle not included.

$2,500.00 with Fulcrum Racing wheels and clinchers…

…or $2,950.00 with Rokkit Wheels’ Rokkit R50 Carbons and Challenge Fangos.

(Methinks we all know the better deal here, yes?)

Email me with inquiries at: gorydreadmond (at) gmail (dot) com and/or post valid questions in the comments.

Peace.

*Disclaimer:  Christian is a bike.  A bicycle.  He cannot do “anything”.  He can only do what you make him do and that requires participation on your part.  He will not cook you eggs florentine, clean your house, or walk your dogs.  He does not do laundry or pay bills.  He most certainly cannot fly, so don’t be a dumbass and try that shit.  He is not a horse and will not buck you, but if you end up bloody while riding him you are either a klutz, the people around you are klutzes, it is Suicidal Squirrel Day, or you are having a “lady moment”.  Do not blame Christian or me and request return payment for any of that nonsense.  If for some ungodly reason you ride him after purchase and hate him, I will take him back and refund your money in full…after inspecting him with an infrared light.  Do not think I joke about this because I do not.  If I find a crack, you are screwed.  If I find spooge, I will understand…but will still request you clean him up and then return him for your full refund.  I reserve the right to refuse to sell him to people whom I do not believe will provide him a good home or who have been mean to me or are just too fucking ugly (inside or out) for this bike.  I reserve the right to change my mind on the sale if I cry for more than 120 seconds after agreeing to sell.  That is all.  For now.

**I will ship within the continental U.S.  Outside of that, you must coin up or fly out.

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Posted in bike racing, cyclocross, humor, Life, psychocross

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The OTHER Sickness

Posted on January 24, 2012 | Leave a comment

Normally, when I talk about “The Sickness”, I am talking about Jens Boom, my 29′er boyfriend who lets me ride him as hard or easy as I want and lets me get a little wild.

Lately, I have been having to talk about some other sickness and I cannot lie, it has crawled right into my mind and given me the sads.

The first week of November, during the Cincy3 CX festival, I started to get sick.

At first I was just a little run down, then it grew bigger/worse.

Because I am me and not all that brilliant at times (and grossly selfish during cx season), I did not take a break and kept up with the traveling and racing and the all-around not resting of self and body.

I was at my old company and things were ugly and cx made me happy on weekends that my daughter was at her dad’s.

Well, I ended up with walking pneumonia.  I have written about this before.

I went to State CX Championships anyway, inhaler, antibiotics, and all.

I was on so many meds at the time that I would have been happy to stay in bed.  I didn’t.

On the day of the Championships, I realized I had made a truly awful mistake the day before…

I had left some items in the back of the velowagon after that day’s race and they were now still very wet…including shoes and gloves.

My skinsuit was fine because I had a spare, but ummm…so what?

I lined up freezing, wet, and miserable, and tossed the idea of taking my gloves off back and forth until I decided to just go with them.

Big mistake.  HUGE.

If you have ever seen the SAW films, you will know that there is one scene where people have to put their hands in a box and let the saw slice through until a certain amount of blood fills a container. Click here to see that scene if you have an iron stomach; ignore link if you do not.

(Nice image, huh?)

Yeah, well that is what my hands felt like after 2 laps in the freezing wet that was the Championship race.

What’s worse, I kept seeing that scene in my head as I was racing and that was not really a good thing.

I started crying from the pain in my hands and lungs and the gasps were strong enough to cause me to lose my breakfast, which was a pretty spectacular way to end a race, so that is all I am saying about that day.  I hated that day.  That day was the entire 2009 cx season in 30 minutes.  That day sucked.

I now have what is potentially permanent nerve damage to my right pinky, constant acute pain, and limited function of the digit.  Good stuff.  I’m pretty excited about it myself, because you know how much fun I have with my malfunctioning and/or rogue body parts.

*semi-dramatic sigh*

OK, so I took a break and forfeited some racing and mentally shredded myself while trying really hard not to.

I got back on the bike a few days before Christmas.

I got on The Sickness to kick the ass out of my sickness.

Now sure, I had gone to some spin classes and had been swimming and doing some funnish things at the gym, but to really ride….well, that was pure happiness.

I had to take it easy and went out with some good people who wouldn’t let me do anything stupid.

And while I maybe started with a more challenging ride than I should have, I was over the moon excited to have had my ass kicked and couldn’t wait to measure my health and wellness by returning to that final climb.

I felt the sparkle returning to my eyes and the mischievous smirk playing on my mouth.

We continued to go out…somewhere…anywhere…almost every day.  My addiction had returned.

Fast forward to the week of CX Nats.  A trip we had always planned and one that had never included me actually racing.

I spoke to Kirk just before the weekend and he said there was no point in me racing after how sick I have been and missing the races leading up to the event.

He was of course right and said that the only benefit I would receive from racing that race would be for novelty. He told me to take my bike and ride the course with Jim and get my workout that way.

I agreed that that was a great idea!  Originally, my travel partner-in-crime was also going on the trip and we were going to run while out there; no bikes.  Once a schedule glitch kept Suze from traveling with us, running didn’t seem all that fun.

So we went out to Madison and I decided I was absolutely without a doubt not racing and said it out loud to anyone whom would ask.

Nope, not racing.

At pretty much the 11th hour (because why would it not be?), I looked at Jim and told him I wanted to do the novelty race.

The novelty race being the Women’s Elite race.  My first Elite race and not at all intimidating, right?

No stress.  Just fun, heckling, and counting the minutes before Katie F’n Compton lapped me.

Jim looked at me in that way that Jim does because he knows I am like this.

(Yes, I routinely feel for my friends for having to deal with my spontaneous whims of doing things”just for fun”.)

So, I registered, looked oddly at my number fully absorbing how many women were in my race, (93) and then very oddly…I did all the right things!  I hydrated, didn’t party, took it easy, and went to bed early.

(Technically, right there should have been a sign that I was still sick.  Just saying.  I almost never do the right thing the night before a race.  I am very bad at the night before.  Mostly because I over-think it and I stress out, so I do stupid shit to keep me from doing the stressing/thinking thing.)

I bought that HotHands/Feet stuff so I could be a ginormous pussy with snuggly warm hands in the race (because we all know I would not be going fast enough to stay warm) and some red Swedish Fish for post-race and I was ready.

The shortest (and bestest) race report EVER from the 2012 CX Nats Women’s Elite Race is below:

Yep…Kirk was right…and in being right, he allowed me to get my spirit back.

I did my novelty race and was excited by all the new year held.

He put my plan together and man was I excited!

At the end of the plan he wrote, “Small steps – stay healthy.”

So that brings me to now.

Last week I jumped into my plan and rode mostly indoors.  On Thursday, I decided to do my intervals outside because I was going nuts in the house.  It was 37 degrees, but I layered up and wore super warm lobster gloves (because I am just that Pro!) and the HotHands/Feet thingies.

I even wore a hat.

Immediately upon getting off the bike, I went to the steam room and sat inside making sure to loosen up any gunk that may have crept in while I was outside.

I took a steamy hot shower, and felt pretty good about things.

I felt alive.

SOOOOOO alive and good and happy.

I almost did a naked podium stand in the locker room, but…you know, I get a little tired of those ladies judging me, so I didn’t.

*smirk*

Friday, I felt less alive…and each day since has been worse.

Now I am back on the inhaler and antibiotics and feel worse than I had during the worst of the walking pneumonia.

When I look back at the year, I have been some version of sick since the end of June when I kicked my own ass in Colorado.

I cannot seem to get it together with this whole breathing thing and every time I turn around I am sick.

I have taken breaks. I have rested. I have hydrated.

I have been off the bike for four (FOUR) effing days.  FOUR!

Now, I am crawling out of my bleeping skin because I want to ride my bike and while I know that technically I could do it, I wounder…should I?

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Festivus – Feats of Strength 2011

Posted on December 21, 2011 | 4 Comments

Oy.

*sigh*

[shakes head]

Great start, ehh?

After re-reading last year’s Feats of Strength, I am smacked in the face with just how spectacularly different this year was.

I raced MTB this year.  Marathon races.  What can I say here…?

HOLYSHITIFUCKINGLOVEDIT!

If there was ever a way to feel complete zen and pain and badass all at once, marathon races were it for me.

3+ hours of dirt, sweat, pain, snot, and saddle sex while people cheer and spray you with Super Soakers.  Hmmmm…

Oh my dog!  I had such a blast!

MTB racing used to intimidate the hell out of me.  Hell, riding a mountain bike in general with its different fit and weird tires just flat out freaked me out.  That is why you would see my crazy ass on my cx bike on trails it allegedly did not belong.

*PSHAW*

First off…cx bikes belong EVERYWHERRRRRRRRE!

OK, perhaps they do not belong on a ski lift for that extreme downhilling thing that some folks are into, but in my world we do not shun the cx bike.

That said, I had the honor of riding the Specialized Epic Marathon 29er for Mesa Cycles this year and on that bike, aka “The Sickness”, I found my inner kid in a different way than with cx.

I found a kid that I never was and frankly didn’t know existed.

The wild child party girl that I am during cx season was replaced with a calm, quiet, giggly mess of a girl.

It was all very bizarre and I have no idea what to say about it.

MTB was not on my list of grievances, but after landing on the podium my last race of the season, the day after doing a mock sprint triathlon*, I was pretty effing stoked and consider that fear conquered.

(Always save the bike, people!)

*A group of us had signed up for a sprint tri to do with The Sass and it was canceled due to storms. Two of us did the distances anyway indoors at Lifetime Fitness…whom I would also like to thank for not looking at us like we were fugging nuts considering we still had our numbers written on our arms.  That was awesome.

[clears throat]

Eh-hem…anyway…

I guess that also means I wrestled my issues with triathlons to the ground too.  It was the swimming, frankly.  I was really not a fan when I looked at the sport as a whole.  The Sass however wants to do them and she is a fantastic swimmer…and giggles a lot when doing it.  That’s weird, I know…but she’s a giggler and I like to be around that.

Don’t get me wrong, triathletes on bikes still freak me right the fuck out because…well…TURNS!  

And also don’t get me wrong that I will forever (FOREVER) make fun of anyone on a group ride in their aero bars because, seriously?  SERIOUSLY??  You folks are wrecky!

But I have conquered my issues with “the swim”; the stupid suit, the cap, the goggles, and how my hips look when doing all of that.  I am now relaxed and actually enjoy the swim, so one less thing to stress about.  Heh.

I have wrestled a few other things from the list too.  The main one being that I have learned to let people go.  Just let them go.  You don’t need to kick their ass, just let them go.  If they are dead set on being a tool/jerk/douche/bitch/maniac/stalker, let them.  Those are their issue(s); not yours.  You have to ask yourself what value they have on your life and conquer your fear of them not being there.  Sure, conquering your anger and fear may give you the sads for a while, but if you sit back and breathe, you may see a lot of things that you were missing before…like peace.  This year, I wrestled chaos to the ground and kicked its ass…because it’s really about the chaos and not the people.  To this day, I still love the people I let go this year, but not their chaos.

OK, perhaps I have not entirely kicked chaos’ ass, but I have called it out and am giving it the silent treatment with a raised eyebrow and it knows (KNOWS) that  I am on to its little game.

I was about to say that I have not wrestled cancer to ground and kicked its evil ass…but the fact that I am here typing this blog means that I actually did.  I have to remember that.   Twelve years, baby.  <- BAM!

[shakes place where titties used to be]

Well, there you have it.  After a colorful year of c*nts, chaos, and cancer, I am still kickin’.

I wish I could say I have no regrets from this year, but I do.  I am writing each one down and lighting them on fire on New Years Eave so I can let them go.  I wish the same for anyone reading this.

Peace and dirt.

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Posted in bike racing, breast cancer, cancer, Christmas, cyclocross, Festivus, friendship, gratitude, holiday fun, humor, lessons, Life, mtb racing, pain, psychocross, xmas

Jingle Cross 2011

Posted on December 5, 2011 | Leave a comment

Can we say “ROAD TRIP!”????

I can say it in multiple languages this year….

OK, I cannot, but I can say it in plenty of accents.

Last weekend (not the one that just passed but the one before that) was Jingle Cross.

I have not written my race report because the sick that I had been nursing since Cincy 3 CX kicked up into complete “Fuck You, Bitch!” mode last week and I didn’t do a whole lot of anything…So I am writing now.

I am writing now because I am about to get new meds and have no idea how those will affect me, so now is better.

Jingle Cross is still the most fun CX event in the Midwest.  Mostly because just knowing you are going keeps you from shoving your pie hole full of…well…pie and other yummy goodness on Thanksgiving.

Jingle Cross starts on Black Friday and continues thru Sunday.

So, while some thousands of lame asses are lined up outside retail monsters to prove their stupidity and buy things they don’t need, the smarter folks are sleeping soundly and dreaming of The Grinch and Mt. Krumpet in Iowa City.

There is almost always frost or rain or some combo of both, and if not…then there is ALWAYS Mt. Krumpet.

Always.

The man of my dirty dreams.  He is always “up” and always a sweat-making maniac of leg-shredding, dirty bliss.

I never wonder if he is happy to see me.  He is.  And like a good man, is always happy for me to climb up on him and ride, ride, ride… He seems to like when I go down too.  Good man.

*Note: Hey!  PSSSSSST!  You dirty-minded freaks need to focus…I am talking about a hill.  A big one!  What were YOU thinking?  Nevermind.  I know what you were thinking…and I like it.  Carry on!

On Friday night there was only a bit of mud.  A teaser if you will.  One was on a berm before the flyover and the other was on the face of Krumpet.  (Yep; he even gives good face.)  I am in love.

The mud was good, but again, just a teaser as we watched the radar and knew that the true cxgasm would be the following day when it rained.

Omigawd, I am a rain whore between September and January.

I don’t so much like ice because that brings the ouchies and the breakies and frankly does not photograph well, but mud is my money shot.  Those roadies who race that “Froze Toes” nonsense can have the ice.  It’s all theirs.  Take it.  Ice on mud will shred a tire and that gives me the sads, so I am whole-heartedly against it.  Ice is for martinis; not cx tires.

So, I was as pleased as spiked punch that the temps were damn near tropic (in the 50s) when the rain came.

*snicker*

Yes, I am 12 in my head.  Shut up.

There was so much dirty wetness on Saturday that I damn near lost what was left of my tragic little mind.

I shot my nose spray up my nose and hopped on Christian.

The sound of wet cx is like porn music…except good.

Sadly, they took the flyover out of the race on Saturday because they were afraid people would act a damn fool and make it a Slip-N-Slide.

*raises hand*

I was bummed to lose it, but the muddy, off-camber goodness of Mt. Krumpet’s face was pretty magical.

The sloppy mess of the swirly/”toilet bowl” was a fantastic cxgasm of power and muddy spray.

My two favorite hecklers (Awesome 1 and Awesome 2) screamed at me each time over the barriers and through the finish of each lap.

I tried to give them a show each time through and gave them their reward in my finishing sprint…unintentionally.

I came off the dirt and hit the pavement like a maniac.

I did this weird thing where I added gears and tucked in and went very fast…

I need to stop that shit.

I hit the wet grass and gravel again and my bike caught air in front of A1 and A2 and I went sideways a bit…in the air.

(Hey look! I’m Tony Hawk, bitches!)

…except that was a bike and not a board.

It was the longest 100th of a second where I actually had the time to think, “If I do not land this shit right, mama is gonna be wrecked and torn up!”

Due to the power of physics, I was now over gravel…

Holy crap.

*exhale*

I somehow (amazingly enough) landed rubber-side down, finished the sprint, taking the guy I was chasing (for no good reason) at the line.

I finished blahblath place, but you would have thought I podiumed because I rode over to A1 and A2 (whom we had just met whilst heckling Chris Jones on Friday night) and A1 hands me her beer and…

…I drank it!

I think the rain and mud helped make that shit taste OK, because I didn’t make a “Cory face” and we just jumped around and squealed like a bunch of freaks…and it was awesome.

Basically, Jingle CX is like Lollapalooza with bikes instead of music and bad beer instead of pot.

I mean, we brought sangria and fancy acrylic wine glasses…because we are awesome assholes.

Because we know how to bring the party, we also hung out in the hotel room watching Forest Gump after a super yummy lunch at Vesta.  (Seriously delish for the 2nd year in a row!)

This old gal was feeling the sick by 4pm and could have stayed in all night…and should have.

However, how often am I around this many fun people in a strange town?

(Apparently a lot, but still…)

We stayed out later than needed.  (Totally past the street lights coming on!)

I was a sick ball of “ewwwww” the next morning and decided to play it safe and not race, having already missed 2 days of work the previous week.

Some chap told me to “HTFU”, which gave me the sads for 3-120 minutes because that was just uncalled for and also mean.

He will now be receiving a lifetime subscription to Cat Fancy magazine as thanks for his motivational speech to me, as I have realized that all people I dislike also happen to own cats, so he should be thanking me in 3-2-1…

The End.

 

*Disclaimer 1: I did not send anyone a magazine subscription. I am against magazines as most are a useless waste of trees unless they contain photos of bikes or boobies.

*Disclaimer 2:  I do not dislike all people with cats, but in a strange coincidence, of the small group of people I dislike, a high concentration own multiple cats.  This is not the fault of the cats.  My daughter likes cats and all things with a pulse.  Her father and I have discouraged her from cat-love, but kids rebel.  We now say nothing and distract her with better pets and hobbies.  I like my friends who own cats, but visit them infrequently.  I will pet them when I see them, but that is where it ends.  I like Hello Kitty and Chococat.  We’re good.

*Disclaimer 3:  I actually don’t give a cat’s ass if my dislike of cats offends you.  All people will not like what you like.  Triathletes do not get offended that I don’t like their sport.  Scratch that; I may do a tri but will never do a cat.  Blame my mother and take it up with her.  She cares; she really does.

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Posted in bike racing, cyclocross, humor, Jingle Cross, Life

Missing Bubba

Posted on November 7, 2011 | 2 Comments

Bubba Cross…

Like a long lost friend, I miss you.

I cannot believe that November is upon us and I have yet to race a Bubba race this 2011 psychocross season.

*sigh*

Tis not that you are not fantastic or awesome; tis just that things come up and plans change.

This year saw me (surprisingly enough) making the difficult decision to forgo a few Bubba CX races for the opportunity to race a few races at UCI venues.

I started with the USGP in Madison and it was without a doubt the most fun I have had on a bike in a wicked long time.

It was a muddy mess of hell and harmony that made my heart sing, and my bike hum.

You know you have had a spectacular day on the cx bike when you advance through fifty percent of the field in torrential downpour and laugh as you quite literally pull gobs of mud from your ass crack and coin slot.

Good, filthy, yet wholesome fun!

That was USGP Madison.  If you haven’t done it, you may as well open Google Calendar and type it in now.

This past weekend, we traveled to race the Cincy3CX race in Sunset Park (ehhh) and Harbin Park (SAWEEET!).

What a friggin’ blast!

I won’t talk about Saturday because it was 38 degrees, there was frost, and mud, and frosty mud…and that does something to a person.

(And if you know me, you know exactly what that did.  A cube of sangria followed soon after, as it was happy hour somewhere….like Europe.  AMIRIGHT?!?!)

We raced the Masters Women 35+ and while I came in 12th of 25, I was ahead of the chick who got 3rd in her race, if that gives you any idea what Miss Suze (who bet my ass with 7th) and I were up against in our field.

Holy shitcakes; not a slow race.  All power and one 20 secondish technical spot had Suze crying out, “Merry Christmas to ME!” as soon as we parked the velowagon.

I wanted to slap her.

(No, not really.)

Harbin Park was all hills, mud, and off-camber.  What a painful heap of hell and joy!

I almost puked as I crossed the Finish, which is certainly the sign of a good race!

Ohmygosh this race hurt so good!

I just found out that I got 15th (instead of the 23rd previously thought) and I am excited/orgasmic by that.

Sure, not a win, but considering my caloric intake, lack of non-sangria hydration, and the fact that I almost went shopping at IKEA instead of putting on my skinsuit which was still damp from being washed in the hotel sink the night before, I am pretty effing ecstatic.

Plus I went to IKEA and bought a wok for $5 and that pleases me.

Now, I am back home in St. Louis and looking the race schedule and realizing that there are only two (2) Bubba races that I am able to attend…and they are both this weekend and one of those is only a maybe.

I really want to do the “maybe” race because that course suits me, but will likely do the other course because it doesn’t suit me and I need  that more than candy-covered cross races right now.

Bubba Cross #7

11/12

Concordia Seminary

The Sass’ first 5K with Girls on the Run is that day and I am racing it with her.  I may be able to race if we get done in time as it is down the block.

Bubba Cross #8

11/13

Creve Couer Park

If I do not Concordia, then yes; if I do race Concordia, then no.

Bubba Cross #9

11/20

Mt. Pleasant Winery

The Sass’ best friend’s birthday party is that day, so that takes priority.

Bubba Cross #10

11/27

Jefferson Barracks

Will be racing Jingle ‘Cross Rock in Iowa City.  Not one bit remorseful and plenty thankful.

Bubba Cross #11

12/11

Spanish Lake Park

Nope; out of town and no cx out of town. Will be sad.

I love me some Bubba, but this year is just different with The Sass being older and into her own thing.  It has become more important to nurture her and her growth than for me to play in the mud.  Obviously, I have still found time to play, but that has grown to be balls-to-the-wall type play, crammed into short double-header and triple-header trips instead of filling Sass’ weekends with Mommy’s racing.

Jingle Cross Rock

11/25, 11/26, 11/27

Iowa City

Jingle ‘Cross Rock

UCI venue; The Green Monster is HERE!

MO State CX Championships Weekend

12/3, 12/4

KC

Fun people; no Bubba conflict.

Chicago Cyclocross Cup New Year’s Resolution

12/31 and 1/1

Chicago

Closing out 2011 and opening 2012 in UCI fashion. Wicked exciting!

To my Bubbalicious friends, I hope to see you this weekend.  I miss you guys a lot, but feel confident you’d do the same as me if you were a non-pro, weekend warrior like me with an aspiring triathlete at home who is finally the only kid tugging at mom and dad and while her sibs are off doing college stuff.

*wink* 

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Posted in bike racing, cyclocross, humor, Life, psychocross

Tagged , , ,

Chip In for Charles

Posted on August 30, 2011 | 2 Comments

Charles Pelkey used to work for VeloNews.  Perhaps you are familiar with The Explainer?  Yeah; that’s Charles.

Charles wrote unpopular things about a popular sport and popular folks in our popular sport.

Then, he was “let go”.

At pretty much that exact moment, he was also diagnosed with cancer.

(Think about THAT day the next time you want to bitch about your job.  Ugh)

Charles was diagnosed with Stage II Breast Cancer of all things and is now faced with trying to find a new job while trying to get rid of his cancer.

He just got through his third surgery and is about to start on 16 weeks of chemo…

…without a job and having to pay to maintain his health insurance at a pretty important time to have insurance.

Charles was very reluctant to accept the help, but Andy Shen (from NYVelocity) and the rest of us who support Charles can be pretty convincing.

Andy didn’t ask Charles’ permission to set up a ChipIn account…he just did it.

We all answered.

Charles has taken the time to personally email every one of us and let us know how he is.

We’ve raised over $11,000.00 since August 15th…

…but now I am asking you to dig a little past the lint in your summer shorts and maybe into the depths of your sofa cushions for a little bit more.

This is all going to Charles; not an organization.

You would specifically be helping Charles Pelkey.

You won’t get a bracelet or a ribbon.

Charles is a good man.  He’s intelligent, articulate, and he loves our sport.

This money will help this man who has spent his career as an attorney assisting low-income clients and writing passionately about cycling stay strong when he most needs it.

He is the type of person you should want to help, because he’d do it for you.

He may not wear a yellow bracelet or belong to that clique, but he is a fighter and deserves our support.

See what you can do.  It takes less than 60 seconds and it feels good.

C’mon…

Here’s a link to Charles’ ChipIn [CLICK HERE]

I know times are tough and you’re probably shelling out a lot of coin to race Gateway Cup this weekend, but you’ll feel good.  Really good.

Thanks.

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Posted in bike racing, breast cancer, cancer, cycling, Life

Tagged , ,

Crustaceans and Sangria

Posted on July 18, 2011 | Leave a comment

*WARNING: This is not a cycling post…technically.  It is not well thought out and I have had crustaceans and red sangria.  This may not end well…for anyone.  I will not attempt to construct a story or tie all my points together with a pretty little bow vaguely resembling a moral or a point.  I don’t have a point.  I am in fact at this moment one of the most pointless humans I have ever pondered.  The following is a literary (I use the term as loosely as a whore in Nevada) vomiting of random thoughts which have crossed my mind as recently as 1 minute ago and as long ago as 1976.  I will bullet point these not because I am an asshole, but because I confuse easily these days.  Here we go…

[end warning]

(1) I really want to have faith in people to be good and do the right thing, but I truly believe most people are self-serving and it pisses me off.  I’m still going to do the right thing as much as I can when others are affected, but some days I feel like a giant gump.  Completely taken advantage of.  Lame.

(2) I am still to this day shocked by the people who disappoint me…and equally excited and optimistic that I have not become so jaded that I have lost the ability to be shocked…or disappointed.  

(3) I am fantastically shocked by the people who I assumed were indifferent to my existence who actually, seemingly out of no where, demonstrate that they were there all along and are ridiculously good and cool.  That’s always a treat.  It’s nice.

(4) I am amazed that regardless of this adorable little Estrogen patch they have me on to ensure I don’t grow a penis (NO, that is not the reason.  Duh!), that I can still burst into tears and feel things very deeply. This makes me wonder if they actually installed a new “Super Uterus” instead of removing the old, cancer-ridden, faulty uterus.  I really don’t know, but I have been really nice…and a bit weepy since March, so that’s confusing.

(5) There’s this one person who out of the blue decided to be angry at me and although they said they could not name a reason why or anything that I had done, they just were.  They also decided that the healthier thing to do was to carry on with that course rather than discuss it.  That was a pretty big shock, and a great lesson that sometimes people just don’t like you and it may not have much to do with you.  You have to let it go.  People are people, but not all people are the same and maybe one day things will be different…and maybe not.  Accept it.

(6)  My dog likes to chase deer.  Specifically bucks.  He’s an idiot.  He needs to stop this.  (The chasing and the being an idiot.)  That said, there are two (which likely means more) skunks at the end of my street.  I prefer him to chase the deer.

(7)  Ever since getting groomed and losing his “dreds”, my dog believes he is part Chihuahua and part Great Dane.  He is neither.  He is however, VERY Studio 54, circa 1977.  It amuses me that he thinks he’s such a badass.

(8)  My son is going to be 19 next weekend is about to start his second year of college.  How the hell did THIS happen?!?!  Thank dog “19″ is a pretty boring number.  Maybe he will not feel the need to test his limits (and mine) this year so that I have a little rest before the big “21″.  Oy.  Shoot me now.  Just shoot me.

(9)  I sat out the mtb race on Sunday.  I’m taking a month (3 weeks now) off from racing.  It felt very odd to sit out and I was genuinely disappointed.  This was more odd because I haven’t done many mtb races (three), and yet it was almost a similar sadness to what I feel when I can’t race cx.  Very odd.  I mean, nothing is like cx, but I felt sad.  When I watched the last racer cross the line, my eyes watered up a bit.  (See above statements about ridiculous hormones and weeping for no good reason.)

(10)  I have never felt sadness or regret for missing a road crit.  Even standing right there on a perfect day on a perfect course.  All I think about is the unthinkable.  I get totally stressed out even watching.  While I have never come close to wrecking in a road crit and wreck all the time in the dirt, I know that the dirt wrecks are pretty much in my control.  Mostly.  If you are willing to hop over people…which I am and have…and will again.

(11)  My super fantastic Ridley X-Night frame (a replacement for the broken X-Fire) will be here tomorrow.  Ridley (the company) is super awesome for being so super awesome!  So is Dirk at Big Shark who coordinated all of this mess.  I cannot ever say enough good things about Dirk or Ridley.  This is the THIRD time that this combo has figured shit out for me and stopped me from crying.  Well, 2 times there was crying…the first time just the ridiculous pouting.  It all worked out.  When the new Ridley comes home, we are going to have lots of bike sex for many days.  I already love him and have not even met him.  I have to stop talking about this now.

I’m sure there’s more, but I am going to quit while I am ahead (or before I piss anyone off) and go to bed.

Peace, mud, and cowbells to all.

Good night.

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Posted in bike racing, clarity, cyclocross, humor, Life

Race Report: Castlewood Adventure

Posted on July 12, 2011 | 2 Comments

This past Saturday was my first true marathon mtb race.

I’ve been sick for the past 2 weeks. This started in Colorado and whatever it is, I can’t shake it.

I had woken up not entirely sure that I would race, but then realized that I was going to be in the saddle for at least 3 hours anyway, so I might as well tie a number to my bike and get on it.

Besides, I was not feeling much love for the road bike and was in a bit of a road funk, so this would be perfect.

It was a beautiful day.

Before the race, I had the chance to see my friend Karen (whom I rarely get to see) and she was awesome with the encouragement and giving me advice on pacing myself through the 3-hour heat-fest.

Karen is a guru at these marathon races, so I was sure to pound whatever she said into my head.  Every time I have ever ridden with her, she has given me tips and looked out for me, and is always super positive and encouraging.

I was terrified.  Naturally.

Shit like this is cake for people like her, but for me, notsomuch.

I am a catastrophe magnet.  Luckily, I have a wicked cool force field around me which keeps me from harming others with these catastrophes, but unfortunately I believe I need bubble wrap more than a force field.

Eh. Luckily I knew this course like the back of my hand.

(Not that that would mean anything more than we wouldn’t be expecting a search party to be called looking for me.  It’s not like I had some awesome “home field advantage”.  Everyone in my class knew this course like the back of their hand, so no luck for me.)

Regardless, I was pretty relaxed when we lined up.

Mostly because I keep telling myself that “endurance pace” is “slower” so therefore I will not die.

Let me tell you, “endurance”, “fast”, “asleep” are all the same pace for me.

The only difference is heart rate.

(I have to be some sort of scientific freak as my speed varies little while my heart rate comes out my eyeballs.  Weird.)

The officials go over the race rules (rather quickly I might add…which is ALLLLLL GOOOOD!), and we’re off…

Lap 1:

Around the tape in the grass.  Hey! This is like cyclocross!  Mama likey!

Damn.  I wish I was in a cx race right now.  Cx super fun.  How many more days? 60ish?  I miss Ridley.  I hope I get him back soon.

Hey, look at all of us ladies riding together and knitting.  In the dirt.  This is pretty cool.  We’re all so nice.  Boys should be nice like us ladies.  We’re chatting and giggling and braiding each other’s hair…  Sparkles would TOTALLY make this better!  Girls rock.

Hey look!  There’s that adorable Lone Wolf hill thingy.

Damn…Sorry boys.  We were ABOUT to have a super cool pillow fight, but this shit is ON now!

I am not really a fan of this hill, but there is some cool shit right around the bend once we crest it.

…just. need.  to.  get.  upppppp…

*GASP!*

Holy crap on a soggy cracker!  It is fuggin’ hot out here.

Oooooh!  Look at how my heart rate monitor spazzing right out!

Hello, anaerobic threshold.  Totally did not expect to see you while still pretty close to the base of this monster.  Do you think you can just chill out for a few and we can work things out after this initial climb?

Hey Gabrielle’s butt!  How are you?  I feel if I am going to be staring at you while you make me suffer for 3 hours, I should introduce myself.

(Side Note to Gabrielle: (1) I am sorry that I just opened dialogue with your butt in a blog.  I did not actually talk to it during the race.  (2) I’m sorry I bumped your wheel.  Happy though that we were suffer-climbing and could laugh about it.  Also, your butt broke up with me mid-climb, so that’s why we didn’t hang out longer.  Thanks for dropping me and making me chase.  That wasn’t very knit-lady like.  Sheesh!  Stop being fast!)

Soooo…Gabrielle dropped me, but I was still ahead of some male marathon racers and that made my pride hang in there a little longer…and add a gear to chase.

Let me say, I sometimes (alltheeffingtime) forget that once you go up Lone Wolf, it goes up two (TWO) more futhermucking times.

I was chasing Gabrielle on the other two inclines while my heart rate was doing this cute thing where it flipped me off and said bad words in my ear about my mom and hit me with hammers in the eyes.

So weird, that heart rate. What an asshole.

So, I catch Gabrielle and am feeling like I have a pretty big Johnson (I don’t) and somehow had the lung capacity to articulate to her that we need to form a united front and throw water bottles in the spokes of any Cat 3s who passed us.

(NOTE: This was a JOKE!  I would (a) not waste a fricking water bottle on a hot or cold day on anyone unless they were thirsty or bloody…or both; (b) I believe in karma and fucking up someone else’s race guarantees a shit-storm of bad race/bike karma for me, so no.  Just no.  And; (3) It takes skill to be able to pull that bottle out on a descent while not wrecking and also having good aim. Are you effing kidding me?  I fall over when the bike is stopped.  Everyone knows this.  Gabrielle knew this too.  It was funny. Let it go before you even grab hold and attempt to run with it because off the bike I am wicked tricky with fantastic aim and will clock a bitch.  Just laugh.)

OK, so back to the descent…

I like this trail…for the most part.

I have mostly ridden it on my cx bike and sometimes on the cx bike in the snow because it’s pretty.

That said, there is one, tiny little section that I was fine with until I pre-rode the course on Wednesday and [name redacted] got all up in my head about the approach and mind-fucked me right out of it.

You better believe I said some choice words on Wednesday…though we were laughing and I know the person was trying to help…

No. Seriously.

I knew that I would have my head goopy like a melted gummi bear at that spot during the race.

I knew this because…I told myself that I would have my head goopy like a melted gummi bear at that spot on race day.  And THAT, boys and girls, is how you get in your own head and screw shit that was straight right the hell up.

“Luckily” for me, I knew this approaching during the race and started to smile.

I was behind Gabrielle and a Cat 3 wanted to pass…so instead of screwing him up, I pulled over and let him take the line and I walked it.

Yep.  I know.  I am a GIANT pusssaaaay, but I did it. I lost 10 seconds.  (Yes.  I looked.)  

I didn’t feel like that was a big deal.

In reality, I should have just stopped and ate a sandwich at that spot to kill a little time…and before you get all “what an asshole” about me, that comment refers back to  the aforementioned GIANT pusssaaaayness that is me.  Slower laps = fewer laps. Duh.

“Less” is pretty much my tagline.  It’s on my marketing package.

“Gory Dreadmond…When you really want less.” 

“More” is pretty overrated.  I mean, it takes real skill to show such little progress this many years into this whole racing gig.

Everyone else is a blur of fastness…and then there’s me. Still showing up and donating my hard-earned cash just to have Fick take a photo of me getting lapped that makes it look like I just murdered the field.

*reminds self to write check to Dennis Fickinger.*

Spectators always know what’s up…because I am the only racer they can clearly identify.

My sponsors love this.

Anyhoooo…

I finish that trail and continue on through the Dirt Crit course and up Love.

I love me some Love trail.

Why the hell are my legs burning?!?!

Hmmm…

Niiiiice…

Dumbass rookie marathon racer (or bike racer of any sort) is in the frigging little ring.

Idiot.

Heh…I wonder if the bike will move faster if I say….put it in a gear which will actually assist in propelling it forward instead of riding as if I am on the world’s bumpiest set of rollers…? (Ya think?)

Alrighty…in the big ring and now flying.

Whowouldathunkit?

I mean, I am MOVING!

This pleases me.

Seriously though, that’s not because I am a masher.

I like the big ring because one thing I hate to do is pedal.

Oh. My. GAWD…do I ever hate to pedal.

I mean, I like it better than running (that was for you, John-the-runnuh), but seriously.  I am a low cadence type of gal.

Also, I love to grab me a fist full of brake on descents (that’s bad) so that pretty much solidifies that fact that I will not likely be a contender any time soon…unless they let me race the kids races from here on out…which could happen.

(NOTE: No, I do not really grab fists full of brake while descending.  I am really shallow and like my skin on my face; not so much on rocks and the like.  Duh. But I am a big weenie on certain descents…though none so far in the dirt; mostly on the road.)

So, I am feeling really pretty fantastic when I hit the descent on Grotpeter.  I am hauling ass and trying to make up some time from riding half a lap in the little ring.

I hit the bottom, take the turn and add the gears. I’m at 37 minutes.   Groovy.  I was planning on 40 minute laps, so this is sort of working out for me.

I still have to ride the grass and blah,blah,blah, and stop to refill my Camelbak.

I’m feeling good when I head back out for the 2nd lap.

Lap 2:

Soooo…because I fancy myself a decent bike runner (yes, that was also for you, John-the-runnuh), and because I was trying some stuff out to see what works for me…

I ran (walked slowly) the bike up Lone Wolf on the 2nd lap.

My heart rate was 13 beats lower when I approached the top…and I had the energy to move.

I added my gears during the other 2 assents and though I added a mite too soon on the last one, I was able to recover quickly on the descent…and still dismounted for the gummi bear mental spot.

I had a smile.

My body felt good.

Once I descended Grotpeter the second time, I took the turn and looked at my lap.

37 minutes.

I lost zero time and saved a crapload of legs and energy.

saWEEEEET!

I stopped and grabbed some HEED on my way through and went out for the third lap.

Lap 3:

Pretty identical to Lap 2.  I was in the zone and relaxed.

I got lapped by the 3rd place guy while on Love and felt OK with that.

I descended Grotpeter, took the turn and looked at my lap time.

36 minutes and some seconds.

Excellent!

I am nothing if not consistent and I was happy that my times were not fading.

However…

As I was coming through, they were getting ready to set off the final race of the day and I had to go around that…and still get more water.

I did some quick analysis in my head while I could still function mentally and realized which race was going off.

It was the Cat 2s and these folks were going to be going out hotter than me because that’s the type of race theirs was.

I actually pulled over in the grass to let their field go by and allow them to do what they needed on  that climb.

I rolled through at 2:11…so with those folks ahead of me to slow things down, mentally the next lap was logically going to be my last lap.

Lap 4:

I had a lovely chat with a hiking spectator as we climbed Lone Wolf and I allowed the Cat 2s to do whatever it was some of them were doing on that hill.

Some of them were not riding nor walking and I am still confused as to what they were doing.  Either way, it was time for me to do my thing and I got to it.

I don’t have anything else to say about that because I will be racing the Cat 2 race this Sunday, so this perspective actually helped me.

That said, I was acutely aware that this lap would be different…and slower.

Three (THREE) different racers went down in front of me after the climb…on different sections.

Honestly, 3 at the same time would have been more time efficient (for me) and if they could work on lump wrecking, that would really workout (for me).

I kid. I kid.

What?  It’s MY race.  This is my race report.  They were in a totally different race and no one was hurt.  It’s not like I stood there pointing and laughing.  I offered assistance.  It’s funny NOW…on Tuesday.  Sheesh.

So, I come to the gummi bear section and dismount, blah,blah, blah…then there is this snotty turn on shitty rock and it’s narrow…and the fall would make me bloody…

Yeah…sooooo some dude (I assume he is a racer) is hanging out there  checking shit out on his bike.

Ummm…dude…could you not move say 100 feet down the hill where it widens so the rest of us could ride and not tiptoe past you?

Frankly, someone is going to crash into a mister and that would not be good…for anyone.

You are lucky I am such a GIANT pusssaaaay and am always in the ready to dismount like a demented ninja.  Lucky, I tell you!

Oy.  Be safe out there kids…and if (IF) you can get the hell out-of-the-way, by all means, do so. This is a no-brainer.

Once I Matrixed my way around that nonsense, it was time for Love.

As I took the first turn, the one that always makes me happy because everything after it is recovery, I rode not far and got dizzy and wobbly.

My finger (which was out like a princess sipping tea) slammed a tree that had totally grown in that spot between laps 3 and 4.

“Hey!” I yelled at it.

(I did.  I actually yelled, “HEY!” at a tree. A TREE!)

Holy shit.  The sun/heat must begetting to me.

I felt my confidence hit the snooze bar and  blinked a few times.

Ugh.

Joe Parkin said that this happens!

He said sometimes you’re racing right along and all is great and old man hammer just rides up on you and beats the shit out of you.

I was terrified that this would happen.

Terrified!

All I have to do is get through this stupid lap and I am done.  DONE!

I had to have lost at least 15 minutes with the wrecks and the guy on the ledge.

I hold it together…slowly.

I’ll ride slower, I tell myself.

I take away some gear to save energy.

I am approaching a racer ahead.

Holy goat balls!

It’s Gabrielle.

How the…?

She tells me to pass and I tell her I’m bonking.

She thinks she might be too.

I ask her if she’s OK. I offer up goodies and hydration and wish for the first time in the race that I had an umbrella drink.

She says she’s good but her skin had lost its color.  I knew she was just doing what we do with the whole “I’m fine” thing. I understood and I rolled on.

That said, regardless of the fact that she is my friend and I like her, I knew that 2nd winds happen in this life and I wanted to get the flip away from her as fast as possible in case she caught her 2nd wind and decided to beat the snot out of me.

I dove onto Roller Coaster and hauled ass.

(This is one of my favorite cx trails.)

2 male racers pass me and I decided to stay with one, since he was also a Mesa racer.

I gave him his space but let him pace me to Grotpeter.  Then he took off like a bat out of hell.  It was awesome.

I descended, took the turn and looked at my lap.

What the flip?!?!?

37 minutes.

Are you kidding me???

I’m so focused on the fact that I made up all that time and was so busy patting myself on the back that I didn’t do the Math on the laps.

4 x 40ish minute laps is under 3 hours.  Derr.

What did I do?

I hauled ass through the rest of the course thinking I was done.

Happiness that the race was over and tiny winged unicorns with rainbow sparkle manes carried me across the Finish.

Their hooves made so much noise that I never heard my time as I came through.

I ride through and see Jamie (who was in my race) cheering on other racers and in my mind…we are done.

Jay comes through as we are all chatting and calls out for water.

Since I have no idea where his stuff is, I go to mine.

A nice lady, (Tancy) gives me some water for Jay and I run to hand it off…

Jay goes back out and I return to thank Tancy.

The officials are yelling to me…

Huh…?

I have to what…?

I see Gabrielle rolling to the finish as words sink in.

I had to go back out.

I was under 3 hours.

Now, to actually beat Gabrielle, I had to do another lap.

Worse…if I did not do another lap, I was a DNF (Did Not Finish)…after all that work.

I considered my remaining water and adding 40 more minutes to my body…

This look less than 3 seconds.

I was done.

4 laps in 2 hours and 51 minutes still = a DNF.

I smiled and shook my head at myself.

I knew I would bonk hard on another lap and that would increase my likelihood of error and injury.

Ultimately, I had a great race and a lot of fun figuring it all out.

In 2008, I DNF’ed during a 15 minute Dirt Crit because I couldn’t breathe.

This was easier to stomach without beating myself up too much.

…and it was a lot more fun than just riding around for 3 hours.

I am very much looking forward to my next 3-hr event…but will be sure to mess something up so I have something to report.

*grins* 

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Posted in bike racing, dirt love, humor, Life, mtb racing

ICC 3-Hour MTB Race – A Newb’s Recap

Posted on May 24, 2011 | Leave a comment

First, ICC = Indian Camp Creek.

Second, this was my second non-dirt crit-actual-real-mountain bike race EVER!

[whispers, "evvvvvvvahhhhhhhh...."]

Third, I was FUCKINGAWESOME…and that is really all you need to know!

What?

You want for more?

MORE YOU SAY?!?!?

Alrighty then…

It was effing hot, I am effing slow…and I was effing slow and hot but did not do ANY of the following things:

  • Puke
  • Cry
  • Faint
  • Quit
  • Pee for 9 hours
I did:
  • Smile when the first splatter of mud hit my skin.
  • Almost wreck dreaming of cx season 3 seconds after the first splatter of mud hit my skin.
  • Actually wreck a bit later on, but I don’t really want to talk about it and it was totally my fault and it was pretty funny.
  • Fall over for no good reason at a complete stop after allowing contending racers to pass.  That was even funnier.
  • Drink a crapload of water and Heed
  • Get a weeeee bit dehydrated during one part of the race and broke out with the chills.
  • Drink a VERY pretty and fruity concoction post-race (and after I properly took in refueling nutrition like the good girl that I am).  *wink wink*
  • Feel wicked fucking awesome because I was not a bike racer to my son until I did that race and that’s funny to me…and cute.

This was a super fantastic event that I could not imagine running any more smoothly than it did.

Believe.

I can find a way to bitch about anything if I wanted to…and I can’t find anything.

It’s nice when racers feel loved at events.

It’s nicer when racers feel the love back for the organizers.

This was like a giant love-fest.

…and that was nice for this racer who hasn’t seen much of that lately.

I don’t really know if this event is on the 2012 schedule yet, but if it is, make sure it’s on your schedule.

*Disclaimer:  Use of the term “FUCKINGAWESOME” is relative and in no way discounts any other racer.  The term is used specifically as it relates to my own personal awesomeness.  Do not attempt to tell me that my awesome is not all that awesome because it is not your awesome.  I don’t judge your awesome, so leave my awesome alone.  Also, I just now created the term “FUCKINGAWESOME” and sent in my copy right paperwork so there is no way you could know a secret meaning of my word when I just created it**.  Go make up your own words/terms.  It took a lot of creativity on my part to ingeniously fuse those words together.  Do not attempt to piss on my pita chips.  Go be your own awesome and show that awesome by just spreading the awesomeness.

**Of course I did not send in copy right paper work.  I am not that lame and would not kill a tree over something so stupid.  WTF is paper?  I hate paper work of any sort and go out of my way to avoid most paper work of any sort unless I am being paid to do the paper work.  That’s right.  I get PAID to do paper work.  Because I am just that…

(wait for it)

(wait for it)

FUCKINGAWESOME!

(Duh!)

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