I did not go to Las Vegas or to Interbike.
There really only was a slim chance I would go in the first place, but for one reason I'm glad.
I am sick.
I feel pretty darn sure that one of Bob's children, fresh from the first full week of school, brought in the latest greatest middle-school germs. Children are wonderful, they're our future, and they're vectors for disease. I can't think of a SINGLE other major disease vector that we DO love-internal parasites, mosquitoes, ticks, fleas, flies. Nope.
Here is a link to what WikiPedia says about vectors. The word "child" does NOT appear.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vector_(epidemiology)
Somebody should edit that to add children but I don't feel up that right now.
Bob IS in Las Vegas helping to represent Stan's NoTubes and wouldn't you know it, he had the bug too when I called him last night. I felt horrible for him because instead of going out to dinner with his coworkers he planned to barricade himself in the hotel room and order in. Several OTHERS in the Twitterverse have also tweeted from Interbike about incubating something nasty.
So right now maybe a couple thousand industry reps, dealers, some pro racers, all sorts of people are tired and overstimulated and jetlagged and working and networking and putting in horrendously long hours at Interbike.
To sum it up, if this weren't just some nasty cold bug I'd call the CDC because wow, a whole lot MORE people are about to have a not very nice time soon.
So you know how they say, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?"
Not this time. Think Sick City, not Sin City.
Hey everybody, I hope you ALL start feeling better quick. I recommend Zicam. And hand sanitizer.
On the bright side I RACED last weekend! I actually RACED! First time since June. First cross race since last November.
I can't wait to tell you about it because it was fun, stupid, funny, sad and all of the wonderful things you normally associate with cyclocross.
But for now I'm sick. I'll get back to you on that.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Friday, August 31, 2012
The Rule of Three
Yesterday-Thursday-did NOT begin well.
Because of taking four different drugs Wednesday night, I woke up twenty minutes late from the most lovely dead sleep ever. Why the drugs? I'll get to that.
No time to make my own breakfast. No cup of French press coffee.
Instead I flew around the apartment like a maniac trying to find a piece of paper I needed, kissed Bob in a hurry while apologizing for my language and launched out the door. A few more four-letter words might have slipped out. Apologies to the neighbors. I had to get to the bank, drop off prescriptions, go to physical therapy, to work. No time to take the late bus when you have errands. As I broke into a run I realized that running still hurt my, uh, recent surgical site. A few people may have wondered why the young woman up the street was jogging down the road at 7am cursing while clutching her left boob. Not a great moment for me.
What a hell of an exciting few weeks these have been.
Last Wednesday I had minor surgery to extract an abnormal fragment of breast. I had every reason to believe that abnormality was benign. But until you know, you don't KNOW. And removal seemed the efficient and effective option.
Surgery went well enough. I spent the following weekend in NJ with Bob, the kids, his sister and brother-in-law and their son (thanks for the hospitality, Laura and Frank-I'm sorry if I said or did anything weird but blame it on the Vicodin).
I got back on the bike. Again. Tuesday night I rolled along happy to start feeling good again. So what if I had two inches of stitches under my sports bra? I felt better with every mile. A couple of guys in a sports car slowed down and beeped. They waved. Did I know them? I waved back then felt a sharp pain in my right thigh and saw a black wasp departing.
I said a bad word. Maybe repeated it a few times.
I pulled over. Yanked up the leg of my shorts.
I thought to wait a minute or two. I've had three allergy injections per week for a year and a half now to desensitize me to bee and wasp stings. This process has gone excruciatingly slowly (I've reacted three times to my shots) but it promises to work long-term. The decision to start the treatment came after three anaphylactic episodes and a fourth sting that resolved safely without too much of a near miss (when honeybees get me, the reaction is slower). Wasps are nasty-the reaction is faster, it's more dangerous. BUT maybe I wouldn't need the EpiPen this time.
This could be dealt with. But I would only wait two minutes to make a decision. I checked my watch. I was on Route 327, not far from downtown Ithaca.
I watched the swelling develop fast. Then the itching started on my neck.
And I began to have a bad feeling. When you read about the symptoms of anaphylaxis, one is described as "a sense of impending doom." Basically you have a very strong instinct that you are about to die. And unless you DO something, you will. That feeling came and I recognized it. It isn't panic. It's a deep knowledge of truth and a recognition of urgency. Suddenly THERE IS NO TIME. THERE IS NO TIME.
Decision made. The EpiPen doesn't hurt going in. It's FAST. It starts to hurt the second after it injects, while you hold it to your quad and count to ten. I called 911 and explained my location: on Rt 327 south of Ithaca two miles off Rt 13, near the intersection of Gray Road and 327. I took out my Ziploc bag, took 25 mg of Benadryl, a dose of Pepcid (has an antihistamine effect). I called Bob, got voicemail, called back and got him in person, told him what happened. He said to take my bike to the hospital with me. Good call, Bob. Hung up, sat down and waited. The Enfield fire chief showed up first and started the paperwork. The ambulance pulled up soon. With paramedics on site I feel fairly safe. EMTs can only give you oxygen, take your pulse, and watch you. Paramedics can use drugs and can intubate you if that has to happen. Two young guys this time. I joked with them, told them not to scratch the paint on my bike while they put it in the ambulance. I gave them my used EpiPen to chuck in their sharps container.
They started the IV and I started feeling like I had something heavy sitting on my chest. The backseat paramedic got radio permission from an ER doc to start the drugs. I got IV Pepcid and 50 mg of IV Benadryl in addition to my prior 25, and they have to push it slowly because it makes you instantly feel sick. But IV Benadryl is nothing compared to IV epinephrine. I experienced that once and hope I never do again as long as I live. No reason to think I'd need that this time.
Off to hospital. Bob showed up very soon. Then we waited.
No doctor showed up. After almost two hours Bob and I were frustrated. I just wanted the IV yanked out so I could leave and go to bed. Forget seeing a doctor. I could see the allergist the next day. Finally I saw Sara Foster-one of our Corning teammates and a physician assistant who was on shift til midnight. She saved us by tugging on someone's sleeve. In about five minutes a doctor came in. Unfortunately he was a pompous ass and seemed to think that since he saw no hives and I had no other symptoms just then (hello? The paramedics drugged me up?) I must have unnecessarily used my EpiPen. So with no knowledge of my prior medical history he launched into a lecture about allergic reactions and how you shouldn't use EpiPens if you don't really need them. He ignored everything I said. He prescribed a small dose of prednisone for two days which he said I didn't have to take if I didn't want to, and threw some Pepcid in on the side.
The swelling on my leg was baseball-sized when I got home. I started the prednisone and Pepcid. Wednesday morning I had a softball growing-hot, itchy, painful to touch, ugly. I took more drugs.
First thing Wednesday I went to the surgeon for a post-op appointment. First things first-she had my biopsy results. My tumor was BENIGN, a hyalinized fibroadenoma, although it's normally in seen in older women. GOOD. RELIEF.
The surgeon observed me scratching my leg and other multiple itchy spots and asked if I was all right. I filled her in on Tuesday night's events. She asked the name of the ER doctor. I couldn't remember. She recommended "having at it" when I received my "post-visit patient satisfaction survey." Cayuga Medical Center likes to send those out. She took out my stitches quickly so I could get to the allergist, asked if there was anything else she could do, wished me good luck.
The allergy office got me in to see a doctor fast. The swelling on my leg had reached football dimensions and I'd begun breaking out in small patches of hives in other places. The doctor reacted in outrage to what the ER doc said. She stomped out of the room, came back and immediately dosed me with prednisone, Benadryl, Pepcid, and cetirizine. She tripled my prednisone dose, extended it to three days and gave instructions for taking the three other drugs simultaneously. She made me stay in the office for an hour to make sure I began improving. "You did EXACTLY the right thing," she said. "You know yourself and your medical history. Your records here show everything and I remember your chart (she saw me the last time I reacted to my shots). You are on the extreme end of the scale when it comes to reactiveness. Don't ever let ANY doctor talk you into disregarding your own history." She refused to say anything unprofessional about that other doctor but seemed pretty mad.
She also told me that given my history and the way my immunotherapy is progressing, not only will it take approximately five years or more for me to build up significant immunity to stings, but that the leading allergy experts in the world recently found that for people with my type of history and sensitivity, the most effective treatment requires a different approach. Once I have enough immunity to tolerate the equivalent of four stings of all three types of venom at a time without reacting, I will probably be safest if I continue those three injections every six to eight weeks for the rest of my life, rather than stopping.
I said, "I could live with that." She said, "Well, that's the point. The point is that you LIVE."
So to sum it all up, Thursday just piled up on me like a ton of bricks. You don't move too efficiently when you're on four different allergy drugs. Thinking is slow. But I got it done. I ran all of the errands, paid the bills, filled out the paperwork, dropped off the mail, and got to physical therapy. There I had to fill in one more person on uh, recent medical history-the physical therapy department likes to know all medications you're taking.
I found that while my shoulder is completely back to total range of motion and better strength, the rotator cuff is still being pulled partly out of alignment by the pectoral muscle. No hand weights for me yet. But I graduated to a green rubber band.
I spent the rest of the day at work, where alternately time slowed and raced as I tried to function productively while fighting drug-induced drowsiness and apathy. Beats all that itching, though.
I woke up at 3:45 am with more itching and took more drugs. I decided to do some laundry and type this. Going back to sleep just wasn't an option. Wide awake here.
As of last weekend I thought of jumping into a cross race as early as the 8th of September but I'm just not there yet. Soon. All of the medical stuff is resolving. And the rule of threes has been satisfied. I separated my shoulder. I had a biopsy. I had an allergic incident with a wasp. That's three separate things. Three. NO MORE. PLEASE.
Soon I hope to write race reports and stories of good times again. No more medical stuff or doctors. Can't wait to race again.
Thanks for reading.
Because of taking four different drugs Wednesday night, I woke up twenty minutes late from the most lovely dead sleep ever. Why the drugs? I'll get to that.
No time to make my own breakfast. No cup of French press coffee.
Instead I flew around the apartment like a maniac trying to find a piece of paper I needed, kissed Bob in a hurry while apologizing for my language and launched out the door. A few more four-letter words might have slipped out. Apologies to the neighbors. I had to get to the bank, drop off prescriptions, go to physical therapy, to work. No time to take the late bus when you have errands. As I broke into a run I realized that running still hurt my, uh, recent surgical site. A few people may have wondered why the young woman up the street was jogging down the road at 7am cursing while clutching her left boob. Not a great moment for me.
What a hell of an exciting few weeks these have been.
Last Wednesday I had minor surgery to extract an abnormal fragment of breast. I had every reason to believe that abnormality was benign. But until you know, you don't KNOW. And removal seemed the efficient and effective option.
Surgery went well enough. I spent the following weekend in NJ with Bob, the kids, his sister and brother-in-law and their son (thanks for the hospitality, Laura and Frank-I'm sorry if I said or did anything weird but blame it on the Vicodin).
I got back on the bike. Again. Tuesday night I rolled along happy to start feeling good again. So what if I had two inches of stitches under my sports bra? I felt better with every mile. A couple of guys in a sports car slowed down and beeped. They waved. Did I know them? I waved back then felt a sharp pain in my right thigh and saw a black wasp departing.
I said a bad word. Maybe repeated it a few times.
I pulled over. Yanked up the leg of my shorts.
I thought to wait a minute or two. I've had three allergy injections per week for a year and a half now to desensitize me to bee and wasp stings. This process has gone excruciatingly slowly (I've reacted three times to my shots) but it promises to work long-term. The decision to start the treatment came after three anaphylactic episodes and a fourth sting that resolved safely without too much of a near miss (when honeybees get me, the reaction is slower). Wasps are nasty-the reaction is faster, it's more dangerous. BUT maybe I wouldn't need the EpiPen this time.
This could be dealt with. But I would only wait two minutes to make a decision. I checked my watch. I was on Route 327, not far from downtown Ithaca.
I watched the swelling develop fast. Then the itching started on my neck.
And I began to have a bad feeling. When you read about the symptoms of anaphylaxis, one is described as "a sense of impending doom." Basically you have a very strong instinct that you are about to die. And unless you DO something, you will. That feeling came and I recognized it. It isn't panic. It's a deep knowledge of truth and a recognition of urgency. Suddenly THERE IS NO TIME. THERE IS NO TIME.
Decision made. The EpiPen doesn't hurt going in. It's FAST. It starts to hurt the second after it injects, while you hold it to your quad and count to ten. I called 911 and explained my location: on Rt 327 south of Ithaca two miles off Rt 13, near the intersection of Gray Road and 327. I took out my Ziploc bag, took 25 mg of Benadryl, a dose of Pepcid (has an antihistamine effect). I called Bob, got voicemail, called back and got him in person, told him what happened. He said to take my bike to the hospital with me. Good call, Bob. Hung up, sat down and waited. The Enfield fire chief showed up first and started the paperwork. The ambulance pulled up soon. With paramedics on site I feel fairly safe. EMTs can only give you oxygen, take your pulse, and watch you. Paramedics can use drugs and can intubate you if that has to happen. Two young guys this time. I joked with them, told them not to scratch the paint on my bike while they put it in the ambulance. I gave them my used EpiPen to chuck in their sharps container.
They started the IV and I started feeling like I had something heavy sitting on my chest. The backseat paramedic got radio permission from an ER doc to start the drugs. I got IV Pepcid and 50 mg of IV Benadryl in addition to my prior 25, and they have to push it slowly because it makes you instantly feel sick. But IV Benadryl is nothing compared to IV epinephrine. I experienced that once and hope I never do again as long as I live. No reason to think I'd need that this time.
Off to hospital. Bob showed up very soon. Then we waited.
No doctor showed up. After almost two hours Bob and I were frustrated. I just wanted the IV yanked out so I could leave and go to bed. Forget seeing a doctor. I could see the allergist the next day. Finally I saw Sara Foster-one of our Corning teammates and a physician assistant who was on shift til midnight. She saved us by tugging on someone's sleeve. In about five minutes a doctor came in. Unfortunately he was a pompous ass and seemed to think that since he saw no hives and I had no other symptoms just then (hello? The paramedics drugged me up?) I must have unnecessarily used my EpiPen. So with no knowledge of my prior medical history he launched into a lecture about allergic reactions and how you shouldn't use EpiPens if you don't really need them. He ignored everything I said. He prescribed a small dose of prednisone for two days which he said I didn't have to take if I didn't want to, and threw some Pepcid in on the side.
The swelling on my leg was baseball-sized when I got home. I started the prednisone and Pepcid. Wednesday morning I had a softball growing-hot, itchy, painful to touch, ugly. I took more drugs.
First thing Wednesday I went to the surgeon for a post-op appointment. First things first-she had my biopsy results. My tumor was BENIGN, a hyalinized fibroadenoma, although it's normally in seen in older women. GOOD. RELIEF.
The surgeon observed me scratching my leg and other multiple itchy spots and asked if I was all right. I filled her in on Tuesday night's events. She asked the name of the ER doctor. I couldn't remember. She recommended "having at it" when I received my "post-visit patient satisfaction survey." Cayuga Medical Center likes to send those out. She took out my stitches quickly so I could get to the allergist, asked if there was anything else she could do, wished me good luck.
The allergy office got me in to see a doctor fast. The swelling on my leg had reached football dimensions and I'd begun breaking out in small patches of hives in other places. The doctor reacted in outrage to what the ER doc said. She stomped out of the room, came back and immediately dosed me with prednisone, Benadryl, Pepcid, and cetirizine. She tripled my prednisone dose, extended it to three days and gave instructions for taking the three other drugs simultaneously. She made me stay in the office for an hour to make sure I began improving. "You did EXACTLY the right thing," she said. "You know yourself and your medical history. Your records here show everything and I remember your chart (she saw me the last time I reacted to my shots). You are on the extreme end of the scale when it comes to reactiveness. Don't ever let ANY doctor talk you into disregarding your own history." She refused to say anything unprofessional about that other doctor but seemed pretty mad.
She also told me that given my history and the way my immunotherapy is progressing, not only will it take approximately five years or more for me to build up significant immunity to stings, but that the leading allergy experts in the world recently found that for people with my type of history and sensitivity, the most effective treatment requires a different approach. Once I have enough immunity to tolerate the equivalent of four stings of all three types of venom at a time without reacting, I will probably be safest if I continue those three injections every six to eight weeks for the rest of my life, rather than stopping.
I said, "I could live with that." She said, "Well, that's the point. The point is that you LIVE."
So to sum it all up, Thursday just piled up on me like a ton of bricks. You don't move too efficiently when you're on four different allergy drugs. Thinking is slow. But I got it done. I ran all of the errands, paid the bills, filled out the paperwork, dropped off the mail, and got to physical therapy. There I had to fill in one more person on uh, recent medical history-the physical therapy department likes to know all medications you're taking.
I found that while my shoulder is completely back to total range of motion and better strength, the rotator cuff is still being pulled partly out of alignment by the pectoral muscle. No hand weights for me yet. But I graduated to a green rubber band.
I spent the rest of the day at work, where alternately time slowed and raced as I tried to function productively while fighting drug-induced drowsiness and apathy. Beats all that itching, though.
I woke up at 3:45 am with more itching and took more drugs. I decided to do some laundry and type this. Going back to sleep just wasn't an option. Wide awake here.
As of last weekend I thought of jumping into a cross race as early as the 8th of September but I'm just not there yet. Soon. All of the medical stuff is resolving. And the rule of threes has been satisfied. I separated my shoulder. I had a biopsy. I had an allergic incident with a wasp. That's three separate things. Three. NO MORE. PLEASE.
Soon I hope to write race reports and stories of good times again. No more medical stuff or doctors. Can't wait to race again.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Suck It Up
Six weeks post-crash my shoulder is fully healed and working fine. Mostly.
Physical therapy has gone well. Sure, certain muscles around the shoulder are engaged in a minor tug-of-war but they are stronger every day and will learn to get along again. I've graduated to an orange rubber band, a step or two up from yellow. I can pull on my handlebars with about fifty to sixty percent of my full strength.
I miss racing.
I'm about ready to start drilling cyclocross remounts again.
Physical therapy has gone well. Sure, certain muscles around the shoulder are engaged in a minor tug-of-war but they are stronger every day and will learn to get along again. I've graduated to an orange rubber band, a step or two up from yellow. I can pull on my handlebars with about fifty to sixty percent of my full strength.
I miss racing.
I've read race reports from teammates, friends, and-well, everybody-for six weeks. Margaret Thompson has been racing up mountains and setting more age-group records on her road bike. David Yacobelli tore through the Leadville 100 in under nine hours on a singlespeed mountain bike. Bob and a group of the usual suspects put in heroic performances to finish the 180K D2R2 last weekend-one of my favorite rides. Ever. Mariano Garcia finally landed himself on the winning Great Race team and his write-up nearly made me cry laughing.
I'm about ready to start drilling cyclocross remounts again.
If I felt happy just to ride a bike, any bike, life would be golden right now. And for a few weeks post-injury, rolling along on two wheels for any amount of time at any speed gave me all I needed to be happy as far as bikes were concerned.
Not anymore.
I want to go play in mud, dirt and grass again. I want to get dirty. I want to chase and be chased and wonder when and if my heart will explode.
Cyclocross is hard. Hard is not easy. Neither is relocating your willingness to make yourself suffer when you've given due diligence to pain-avoidance behaviors for a month and a half.
But I'm learning to suffer again, slowly.
I realized this last Saturday while mentally struggling through a set of intervals. While I harbored notions of backing off, an oncoming car flicked up a small pebble that smashed painfully into my left shin hard enough to leave a small dent. Not even thirty seconds later, a bee fwapped into my upper lip and ricocheted off without stinging. Oddly enough, a bruised shin and slap in the face made me just angry enough to suck it up, finish that second interval and mentally commit fully to the third one.
I'm going in for surgery later today to remove the lump from my left boob. No, Don, I'm not going to have any, uh, enhancements made while I'm in there. Yes, Paul, I will stop on my way to the hospital, find a marker, and write NOT THIS ONE on my right boob with a handy arrow pointing to the left one. I think my surgeon is pretty good and she's with the program, but I might as well play it safe.
As soon as that heals, it's time to get out the cross bike and start walking around slowly putting a leg over the saddle. Over, and over, and over. I'm tired of having the lamest remount ever, and damned if I'm going to spend another whole season doing it the wrong way.
I realized this last Saturday while mentally struggling through a set of intervals. While I harbored notions of backing off, an oncoming car flicked up a small pebble that smashed painfully into my left shin hard enough to leave a small dent. Not even thirty seconds later, a bee fwapped into my upper lip and ricocheted off without stinging. Oddly enough, a bruised shin and slap in the face made me just angry enough to suck it up, finish that second interval and mentally commit fully to the third one.
I'm going in for surgery later today to remove the lump from my left boob. No, Don, I'm not going to have any, uh, enhancements made while I'm in there. Yes, Paul, I will stop on my way to the hospital, find a marker, and write NOT THIS ONE on my right boob with a handy arrow pointing to the left one. I think my surgeon is pretty good and she's with the program, but I might as well play it safe.
As soon as that heals, it's time to get out the cross bike and start walking around slowly putting a leg over the saddle. Over, and over, and over. I'm tired of having the lamest remount ever, and damned if I'm going to spend another whole season doing it the wrong way.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Tape and Boobs
Five weeks into my four-to-six-week recovery I'm on a bike most days of the week.
Last Tuesday I started physical therapy. Courtesy of Eva at Cornell Physical Therapy, I have a yellow rubber stretchy band for doing my homework. For the first week I do three exercises, one set of ten twice a day. This involves looping the rubber band around a doorknob and pulling on it in ways that teach the smaller muscles in and around my left shoulder how to work again so that my pectoral muscle stops trying to take over. If I don't rehabilitate all those little muscles enough to force my pec to mind its own business, it will pull the shoulder out of alignment and cause rotator cuff problems down the long-term road. With luck I can progress to three sets of ten twice a day before my next PT appointment.
I'm learning to use tape. I'm already proficient in Scotch and Duct but Athletic is new to me. Eva gave an instructional demo because she said the tape works more directly and effectively than my gladiator brace. Her tape job and the concept both held true on my road ride later that night, and I'll keep using it. Just maybe not the brand Eva had. When peeled off later that night it removed the top layer of skin from my shoulder. So I'm upgrading to Kinesiotape: high-tech tape intelligently designed and manufactured for JOCKS. Waterproof tape you can wear three to four days at a time. Tape you display on your body in bright aggressive colors that say "I'm a jock!" Wearing this makes me feel:
a) Prepared.
b) Less damaged.
c) Colorful (though hidden by a jersey).
d) Relieved to have the support. It lessens the pain!
Road riding continues to become easier. Last Saturday I put in nearly three road bike hours with minimal pain but still couldn't pull on the handlebars when sprinting or climbing out of the saddle. Eva pointed out road riding may not be a heavy load for the shoulder but is still prolonged load-bearing activity, so "listen to your pain level." PT exercises should take priority over long road rides if I want to get back to full strength sooner rather than later. I asked if I should continue icing after every ride. Emphatic yes.
As of Saturday morning my shoulder felt stronger. Bob felt a bit under the weather but still helped tape me up. I increased to two sets of ten on the PT exercises, then took the road bike out for a roundabout country-road loop to Watkins Glen and back. I couldn't remember my last LONG ride and exactly a month ago couldn't even get on a bike. I didn't plan to stay out four hours but the shoulder held up well and I really needed to just get out and spin my wheels. Yes, I know what I just said a paragraph ago-about PT exercises taking priority. But at times you have to clear your head. And I had to quit thinking about boobs for a while.
Yes. I said boobs. Very recently I concluded my left breast had grown and my right hadn't. I found a big tender lump. Shortly after getting rid of my sling I tried on some bras while shopping. So much for bilateral symmetry. The left-hand one filled a larger cup than the right.
My primary care doctor found the lump all too easily. She thought a fluid-filled cyst would be the most likely explanation, but it needed investigation. So the day after starting PT I had an ultrasound. A doctor came in afterward to tell me the lump was not fluid-filled or a cyst but solid and very likely a benign tumor called a fibroadenoma. Given its size and continued growth he recommended surgically removing all of it and precautionary biopsy after removal. He called my doctor, she called me, and I will meet with a surgeon in a week and a half.
The key fact to mention is this: the chances of a malignant fibroadenoma are fewer than one in a hundred. Until I have it cut out, biopsed and know for sure I'll keep that in mind. Not many people want to have surgery but even fewer would want to leave that in there to grow.
So by the time 'cross season comes I'll still be a shoulder ligament short as well as cut, stitched up and taped together. But I can resume occasionally browsing the ladies' lingerie rack at TJ Maxx-and know I can find a symmetrical fit for a change.
It could be MUCH, MUCH worse. Right?
Right.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Injuredville
If you read this blog regularly, you'll notice all my photos went away yesterday evening. This is because I am NOT a technological genius and messed around with my Picasa albums. Including the one labeled "Blogger." And will have to replace my blog photos. All of them. One by one.
I'll save that for the weekend, when I get a few free minutes.
Over the last six days I've enjoyed the return to life in the Land of the Two-Handed after ditching my sling for good last Friday.
This Wednesday I had a great day. I followed up with Dr. Getzin, who said my shoulder had improved much faster than he expected. After agreeing on our exceeded expections we discussed continued increased activity, how to know when I've done too much and what to do about it, and we agreed on physical therapy-which he said would certainly recommend. He brought it up as if he thought he'd have to talk me into it. Not me. Ready, willing, able. I'd have started immediately except I wanted to see the particular physical therapist LiLynn had recommended. I have my first appointment on July 31st.
After such an upbeat and mostly pain-free Wednesday I left the doctor's office walking on clouds and enjoying the prospect of leaving Injuredville behind so soon. Except I haven't yet.
Thursday morning I woke up in the wee hours of the morning in pain. This pain continued and bounced back and forth all day between mild and moderate. Tolerable, yet remarkably tiring.
The pain continued this morning and afternoon after causing uneasy dreams about doctors, hospitals and surgery last night. My shoulder hurts more when it rains. Seriously.
These two days reminded me the recovery process isn't over. A week ago I experienced such pain I emailed Dr. Getzin to ask about it. He "wasn't surprised to hear I had episodic pain" and said to expect the shoulder to hurt for a month but with gradually decreasing frequency and intensity. So I'm just having an episode now.
Of course I won't race at the NYS TT Championships this weekend. So I won't resolve my unfinished business with that race after last year's mid-race flat. I had ONE flat on the road last year, and that was IT. Next year, I guess.
And I don't get to enjoy the women's team slumber party beforehand at a certain teammate's house either.
I know, I know. Buy some cheese to go with that WHINE instead of crying myself a river.
After this temporary speed bump in the road I plan to go ride outside this weekend as much as I can. That may not occupy much time, but it will keep life optimistic.
With luck, I may get to race a mountain bike one more time this summer. I'll be 100% before CROSS season, and 100% motivated too.
The best way to find yourself really wanting something? Remove all possibility of having it, just for a little while.
There's no bike racing in Injuredville.
Thanks for reading.
I'll save that for the weekend, when I get a few free minutes.
Over the last six days I've enjoyed the return to life in the Land of the Two-Handed after ditching my sling for good last Friday.
This Wednesday I had a great day. I followed up with Dr. Getzin, who said my shoulder had improved much faster than he expected. After agreeing on our exceeded expections we discussed continued increased activity, how to know when I've done too much and what to do about it, and we agreed on physical therapy-which he said would certainly recommend. He brought it up as if he thought he'd have to talk me into it. Not me. Ready, willing, able. I'd have started immediately except I wanted to see the particular physical therapist LiLynn had recommended. I have my first appointment on July 31st.
After such an upbeat and mostly pain-free Wednesday I left the doctor's office walking on clouds and enjoying the prospect of leaving Injuredville behind so soon. Except I haven't yet.
Thursday morning I woke up in the wee hours of the morning in pain. This pain continued and bounced back and forth all day between mild and moderate. Tolerable, yet remarkably tiring.
The pain continued this morning and afternoon after causing uneasy dreams about doctors, hospitals and surgery last night. My shoulder hurts more when it rains. Seriously.
These two days reminded me the recovery process isn't over. A week ago I experienced such pain I emailed Dr. Getzin to ask about it. He "wasn't surprised to hear I had episodic pain" and said to expect the shoulder to hurt for a month but with gradually decreasing frequency and intensity. So I'm just having an episode now.
Of course I won't race at the NYS TT Championships this weekend. So I won't resolve my unfinished business with that race after last year's mid-race flat. I had ONE flat on the road last year, and that was IT. Next year, I guess.
And I don't get to enjoy the women's team slumber party beforehand at a certain teammate's house either.
I know, I know. Buy some cheese to go with that WHINE instead of crying myself a river.
After this temporary speed bump in the road I plan to go ride outside this weekend as much as I can. That may not occupy much time, but it will keep life optimistic.
With luck, I may get to race a mountain bike one more time this summer. I'll be 100% before CROSS season, and 100% motivated too.
The best way to find yourself really wanting something? Remove all possibility of having it, just for a little while.
There's no bike racing in Injuredville.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Halfway Back. Maybe.
Saturday marked two weeks gone by since I flew over my mountain bike handlebars, shoulderplanted and temporarily redefined myself (injured).
Not having had an injury before, I expected a slow, drawn-out recovery. Instead it's moved forward REALLY quickly.
In the first few days I unconsciously divided normal activities into categories: Things I CAN'T Do and Things I CAN Do. When there are a lot of Things You CAN'T do, you learn to really appreciate the Things You CAN Do.
For instance, you CAN take a hot shower and start off your day clean. [Never underestimate the potential of showers for making you feel human again.]
You CAN use your right hand to scrub your left armpit-so you CAN keep it clean (forget about shaving it for a little while).
You CAN put a short-sleeved stretchy top or tank top but you CAN'T put on a sports bra.
You CAN take off the sling to slice up ingredients for dinner but forget about picking up watermelons.
You get the idea.
So that's how the first week went by. Do what you can, don't worry about what you can't. Bob helped me get dressed for a couple of days. The shoulder got painful here and there. Between that and difficulty sleeping in the sling, I didn't go to work for a week. Napping helped. NBC Sports' live streaming coverage of the Tour de France also helped. Phil and Paul would lull me into a snooze discussing local French history and architecture in their Brit accents, then start shouting when something happened, which woke me up handily so I didn't miss anything important.
The second week I tried harder to DO more with my left arm and found that all of a sudden, a whole lot of Things I CAN'T Do became Things I CAN Do. I had a few outbreaks of serious pain here and there but the range of motion really started coming back. The sling came off more and more. I put my road bike back on the trainer and started pedaling. I ordered a new brace to use for riding outside and began shopping for a new helmet. I stopped using the sling completely as soon I could stand to. Which forced improvement to come even faster. Obviously, using the arm as soon as possible, as much as possible does more to help the shoulder improve strength and range of motion, then keeping it immobilized.
Friday the 13th my new shoulder brace arrived. Saturday I borrowed Katie's 650B mountain bike (higher handlebars are easier to hold) and ventured outside with Bob. We rode on the dirt roads in the Connecticut Hill area, and even toodled around on some fairly soft trails for about 15 minutes. I could only manage an hour of riding total but felt pretty thrilled about that.
My shoulder does not tolerate rocks or tree roots well.
If I forget to ride with soft hands, relaxed wrists and bent elbows...it hurts.
If I ride too slowly some bumps feel bigger. That hurts.
If I go too fast I can't avoid as many bumps. Ow.
If I brake too hard or too suddenly and my body wants to go forward when the bike stops? It compresses my shoulder. That HURTS.
I think most most mountain bikers would agree that having soft hands, relaxed wrists and bent elbows, keeping continuous speed and momentum, staying off the brakes, standing whenever possible (more bumps when sitting) and being smooth as possible on the bike are all good things to practice. And receiving immediate feedback via pain is one way to learn. Although I don't plan on undertaking more prolonged "learning" until the shoulder in question gets a little stronger. At present the lessons hurt a bit too much.
For now I'm happy to ride the road bike on trainer indoors, and the mountain bike outdoors. Hopefully next weekend I may try to ride the road or cross bike outside, depending on how my ability to hold drop bars improves on the trainer.
Sunday I took out the 650B bike for an hour and 45 minutes. My legs started waking up and my shoulder felt initially stiff, sore and "rusty" but once I warmed up it felt better than the day before. I joined up temporarily with LiLynn and a group ride containing several of the usual suspects (Jack, Ernie, Sara, Bill, Bob!) who were engaged in an 80-mile dirt/road ride on cross bikes led by Andy Goodell and Matt DeLisa. I rode along with them for a half hour then turned for home once the shoulder started saying it'd had enough.
Ernie accused me of "bringing a bazooka to a gun fight" by showing up on a mountain bike. I also sported my new armored gladiator shoulder brace. Which must have really looked like overkill.
Including another two to four weeks of working on my shoulder. My goal is to build up flexibility and strength back to normal levels. Or at least as close to normal as humanly possible.
And I really need to decide on which new helmet to buy. Today.
Thanks for reading.
Not having had an injury before, I expected a slow, drawn-out recovery. Instead it's moved forward REALLY quickly.
In the first few days I unconsciously divided normal activities into categories: Things I CAN'T Do and Things I CAN Do. When there are a lot of Things You CAN'T do, you learn to really appreciate the Things You CAN Do.
For instance, you CAN take a hot shower and start off your day clean. [Never underestimate the potential of showers for making you feel human again.]
You CAN use your right hand to scrub your left armpit-so you CAN keep it clean (forget about shaving it for a little while).
You CAN put a short-sleeved stretchy top or tank top but you CAN'T put on a sports bra.
You CAN take off the sling to slice up ingredients for dinner but forget about picking up watermelons.
You get the idea.
So that's how the first week went by. Do what you can, don't worry about what you can't. Bob helped me get dressed for a couple of days. The shoulder got painful here and there. Between that and difficulty sleeping in the sling, I didn't go to work for a week. Napping helped. NBC Sports' live streaming coverage of the Tour de France also helped. Phil and Paul would lull me into a snooze discussing local French history and architecture in their Brit accents, then start shouting when something happened, which woke me up handily so I didn't miss anything important.
The second week I tried harder to DO more with my left arm and found that all of a sudden, a whole lot of Things I CAN'T Do became Things I CAN Do. I had a few outbreaks of serious pain here and there but the range of motion really started coming back. The sling came off more and more. I put my road bike back on the trainer and started pedaling. I ordered a new brace to use for riding outside and began shopping for a new helmet. I stopped using the sling completely as soon I could stand to. Which forced improvement to come even faster. Obviously, using the arm as soon as possible, as much as possible does more to help the shoulder improve strength and range of motion, then keeping it immobilized.
Friday the 13th my new shoulder brace arrived. Saturday I borrowed Katie's 650B mountain bike (higher handlebars are easier to hold) and ventured outside with Bob. We rode on the dirt roads in the Connecticut Hill area, and even toodled around on some fairly soft trails for about 15 minutes. I could only manage an hour of riding total but felt pretty thrilled about that.
My shoulder does not tolerate rocks or tree roots well.
If I forget to ride with soft hands, relaxed wrists and bent elbows...it hurts.
If I ride too slowly some bumps feel bigger. That hurts.
If I go too fast I can't avoid as many bumps. Ow.
If I brake too hard or too suddenly and my body wants to go forward when the bike stops? It compresses my shoulder. That HURTS.
I think most most mountain bikers would agree that having soft hands, relaxed wrists and bent elbows, keeping continuous speed and momentum, staying off the brakes, standing whenever possible (more bumps when sitting) and being smooth as possible on the bike are all good things to practice. And receiving immediate feedback via pain is one way to learn. Although I don't plan on undertaking more prolonged "learning" until the shoulder in question gets a little stronger. At present the lessons hurt a bit too much.
For now I'm happy to ride the road bike on trainer indoors, and the mountain bike outdoors. Hopefully next weekend I may try to ride the road or cross bike outside, depending on how my ability to hold drop bars improves on the trainer.
Sunday I took out the 650B bike for an hour and 45 minutes. My legs started waking up and my shoulder felt initially stiff, sore and "rusty" but once I warmed up it felt better than the day before. I joined up temporarily with LiLynn and a group ride containing several of the usual suspects (Jack, Ernie, Sara, Bill, Bob!) who were engaged in an 80-mile dirt/road ride on cross bikes led by Andy Goodell and Matt DeLisa. I rode along with them for a half hour then turned for home once the shoulder started saying it'd had enough.
Ernie accused me of "bringing a bazooka to a gun fight" by showing up on a mountain bike. I also sported my new armored gladiator shoulder brace. Which must have really looked like overkill.
Wearing this thing, I feel prepared for just about anything.
Including another two to four weeks of working on my shoulder. My goal is to build up flexibility and strength back to normal levels. Or at least as close to normal as humanly possible.
And I really need to decide on which new helmet to buy. Today.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Wiggo the Rubber Chicken
Right now I can't do much bicycle riding. So I've spent significantly more time watching and following the Tour de France than I normally would.
I am sort of pulling for Wiggo to win. I liked the way he conducted himself on camera the day he ended up in yellow. And yes I felt sort of horrified to find out how foul-mouthed he was (although maybe that's somewhat endearing-I haven't decided yet).
But the impression that Wiggo gave me two days ago during his time trial..well, I can't shake it off. I won't say anything more because a picture is worth a thousand words. So I'm going to share with you a piece of original artwork.
Here you go.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Separated
"Are you OK?" asked somebody. I think it was Georgia Gould.
Some time later a young resident showed up-she bossily told me to do excruciatingly painful things and disapproved of my failure to completely obey, then poked very hard right where it hurt the most. After forcibly prodding a discolored swelling on my ribcage she decided I needed another round of x-rays to make sure I hadn't broken any ribs. "But we'll get you some more painkillers first."
Unfortunately my nurse wasn't in charge of administering painkillers-and the person who had the keys to the IV narcotics wasn't as efficient as my nurse. I took that second trip to X-Ray without painkillers. But the technician didn't want to torture me and skipped taking the one picture that required extremely painful movement.
Shortly after I got back the narc nurse returned with some morphine. Which DID NOT work. It left me feeling flat as roadkill, but the pain remained. The nurse also left a barf bag in case of stomach side effects. No problem there. I hadn't eaten in nine hours.
The ER transformed in an hour or two to "Saturday night" busy. Since Albany is a major trauma center, two or three LifeFlights and at least as many ambulances had come in since we'd arrived.
After a long long wait, one of the attendings showed up. She said no broken bones but I'd likely separated my shoulder and that I needed to follow up with an orthopedist or sports medicine doc in the next couple of days. Some other nurse came to give me a sling but couldn't figure out how to put it together. Once he left, I took it off, put it together properly and put it back on.
Finally they discharged me. Anil came flying in, whipped out the IV, gave me some discharge papers and a little box of Lortab and off we went, sometime after 1 am. We found an open McDonald's, grabbed a snack and drove the hour back to the condo. I still had my dirt-covered kit on and Bob had to help me pry everything off. While he went to bed, I took a bath of sorts, hoping I wouldn't wake up the racers sleeping in the next room over. Around 3 am I finally got to sleep-on a couch with just the right type of cushions to keep me wedged firmly on my right side.
Everyone staying at the condo was very kind the next morning. Mary McConneloug told me of similarly injuring her right shoulder-she has the same funny bump at the end of the collarbone as I do now. She hasn't lost any functionality. Kaila Hart and Cindy Koziatek made me breakfast. Nina Baum told me that I should consider this injury an achievement. "Why do you say that?" I asked.
"Because it means you're pushing to that next level. You don't get an injury like that unless you're really going for it." I have to hand it to Nina. She actually managed to make me see this as accomplishment of sorts. And she's right. I was going for it. Everybody knows that in bike racing that can have consequences. I don't think I will "go for it" any less now that I've had an injury. If anything I can't wait to ride and race again.
I followed up after a few days with Dr. Andy Getzin at Cayuga Sports Medicine. He said it's a Grade 2 shoulder separation. Which means I completely tore the top ligament attaching the end of my collarbone to another bone in the shoulder, and partially tore two of the bottom ligaments that run underneath the collarbone. These will not repair themselves. Total recovery will take 4-6 weeks. I've been icing the shoulder and using ibuprofen. But a week now post-injury I have some limited mobility coming back and can take the sling off for 10-15 minutes at a time. The pain comes and goes. Sometimes it gets a little out of control but I have drugs for that. I've been tired and even napping in the daytime but expect to climb back on the trainer pretty soon. After reading Krista Park's blog (she suffered a Grade 3 separation while pre-riding the World Cup course at Pietermaritzburg, South Africa) I plan to order the same brace she used to support her shoulder. I'll use this to get back to riding outside. Eventually. Thanks for the input, Krista! I'll pick your brain more about this soon.
I won't ride any more time trials this summer but I WILL be ready for CROSS season and will hop on my MTB too, as soon as I'm able. I miss riding with everyone right now but as Margaret Thompson pointed out, one week of my 4-6 weeks has already gone by. Now I'm down to 3-5 weeks.
See you all soon. Thanks for reading.
I grunted, then mumbled "Ah...I think so." It was surprisingly difficult to form words. I lay face-down and helmet embedded in dirt, partly on and partly off the trail at the bottom of "Miniwall" on the World Cup cross-country MTB course at Windham. I heard tires skidding, male voice yelling, gravel flying, and bike chain bouncing against a frame. Another yell came, and the sound of what might have been another crash.
Overheard: "We need to move off the trail. Can you get up?"
I could. I rolled over and sat up, wiping more dirt into my mouth with my glove instead of wiping it off. Gritty. Grit in my teeth too. Actually I was red-brown all over. Catskills dirt here is red. I got up but in the process found something very wrong with my left shoulder when I tried to use my left arm. Pain. Big time. I got my dirt-covered carcass off the trail and the Luna riders with me got organized finding help. One person left to find the medical staff. I gave them Bob's number as my emergency contact and knew he wasn't far away since he had planned to ride some of the course with Garrett.
Georgia, Katerina Nash and the local Luna Chix riders had been leading a course pre-ride for the female beginner, sport and expert riders racing next morning. I'd spent the two days taking in great scenery at a World Cup cross-country and downhill race. I'd helped work the feed zone for the men's race after hanging out at Kabush Falls watching the women's race. Saturday night was the last chance to pre-ride the course before my race Sunday morning.
I'd decided to take the faster, straighter and steeper A line down MiniWall this time, since I'd taken the B line three times last year and twice so far this year. All went smoothly til I hit the very bottom. The course seemed twice as dry and dusty as it had been Friday night. The loose dirt had become looser and deeper, the ruts more dug in from a few hundred World Cup racers ripping through. I had dropped my eyes and lost my upper-body balance just enough when my front tire suddenly took a big drop and the hard track at the bottom came flying up at me way too fast. I had no time to roll and my left shoulder took all the impact.
After 5 years (??) of racing bikes (and crashing a few times) without real injury, my number had finally come up.
'There are only two types of bike racers, those who have gotten hurt and those who are going to." Everybody's heard THAT one before.
Yup.
Bob and Garrett arrived on scene just before the medical staff did in their ATVs.
I wasn't that upset. Mostly I just felt resigned knowing I'd done real damage this time and had no delusions about continuing to ride.
Racing the next morning? Out of the question. No point getting too upset over that either. The pain I felt really made everything else pretty insignificant by comparison.
The next logical steps: go back down the hill, find an ER, start damage assessment. Frankly it sucked. Instead of having dinner and hanging out with the NoTubes crew plus a group of interesting bike people then racing the next day, I faced a long night of pain, sitting in an ER waiting to find out what I did and what I would need to eventually repair it.
Which is not to say I didn't get lucky. I am DAMN lucky. I destroyed my helmet but walked away. No concussion. No cracked vertebrae, broken neck, anything broken as far as I knew. My collarbone felt whole. I had my head together. Nothing else hurt except my shoulder-which began to demand attention very quickly.
Trust me, I know how trite it sounds to say "it could have been worse" but truth is truth.
The medical staff at Windham impressed both myself and Bob (a former EMT/ski patroller). They quickly checked for concussion and then immobilized my shoulder with a field dressing and brace, tucked me snugly into a small off-road truck between the driver and EMT, and drove down the hill with painstaking care trying to minimize the bumps.
After some additional assessment, the head paramedic at Windham Mountain advised us about our ER choices. We had two options-Albany Medical Center or Catskill Regional. "If it were me, I'd go to Albany Medical."
Bob and I dropped Garrett off at the condo-and then Bob and I took the hour trip to Albany Medical. Once there, he hung out with me for the next four hours, with the patience of a saint-this after he had been on his feet all day working his butt off at the Stan's tent. He also had to put up with my yelping every time we hit a bump in the road. Poor Bob. He's retrieved me from the hospital two times in the last couple of years after I've been put there by bee or wasp stings. This third ER visit ended up more cut-and-dried than the usual.
But four hours is a pretty short amount of time to spend in a major trauma center ER on a Saturday night.
The ER seemed eerily quiet on arrival-the front desk staff booked me quickly and a male nurse named Anil took over. He wore dark eyeliner, spoke affectionately, and moved faster than anyone else in the entire department. In maybe a half hour I had an IV, a first round of drugs, and headed off to X-Ray. Anil had to wash the dirt off half my arm before it was clean enough for an alcohol pad. Bob also spent some time patiently cleaning the dirt off my face.
Georgia, Katerina Nash and the local Luna Chix riders had been leading a course pre-ride for the female beginner, sport and expert riders racing next morning. I'd spent the two days taking in great scenery at a World Cup cross-country and downhill race. I'd helped work the feed zone for the men's race after hanging out at Kabush Falls watching the women's race. Saturday night was the last chance to pre-ride the course before my race Sunday morning.
I'd decided to take the faster, straighter and steeper A line down MiniWall this time, since I'd taken the B line three times last year and twice so far this year. All went smoothly til I hit the very bottom. The course seemed twice as dry and dusty as it had been Friday night. The loose dirt had become looser and deeper, the ruts more dug in from a few hundred World Cup racers ripping through. I had dropped my eyes and lost my upper-body balance just enough when my front tire suddenly took a big drop and the hard track at the bottom came flying up at me way too fast. I had no time to roll and my left shoulder took all the impact.
 |
| Joe Bender crash reenactment. |
After 5 years (??) of racing bikes (and crashing a few times) without real injury, my number had finally come up.
'There are only two types of bike racers, those who have gotten hurt and those who are going to." Everybody's heard THAT one before.
Yup.
Bob and Garrett arrived on scene just before the medical staff did in their ATVs.
I wasn't that upset. Mostly I just felt resigned knowing I'd done real damage this time and had no delusions about continuing to ride.
Racing the next morning? Out of the question. No point getting too upset over that either. The pain I felt really made everything else pretty insignificant by comparison.
The next logical steps: go back down the hill, find an ER, start damage assessment. Frankly it sucked. Instead of having dinner and hanging out with the NoTubes crew plus a group of interesting bike people then racing the next day, I faced a long night of pain, sitting in an ER waiting to find out what I did and what I would need to eventually repair it.
Which is not to say I didn't get lucky. I am DAMN lucky. I destroyed my helmet but walked away. No concussion. No cracked vertebrae, broken neck, anything broken as far as I knew. My collarbone felt whole. I had my head together. Nothing else hurt except my shoulder-which began to demand attention very quickly.
Trust me, I know how trite it sounds to say "it could have been worse" but truth is truth.
The medical staff at Windham impressed both myself and Bob (a former EMT/ski patroller). They quickly checked for concussion and then immobilized my shoulder with a field dressing and brace, tucked me snugly into a small off-road truck between the driver and EMT, and drove down the hill with painstaking care trying to minimize the bumps.
After some additional assessment, the head paramedic at Windham Mountain advised us about our ER choices. We had two options-Albany Medical Center or Catskill Regional. "If it were me, I'd go to Albany Medical."
Bob and I dropped Garrett off at the condo-and then Bob and I took the hour trip to Albany Medical. Once there, he hung out with me for the next four hours, with the patience of a saint-this after he had been on his feet all day working his butt off at the Stan's tent. He also had to put up with my yelping every time we hit a bump in the road. Poor Bob. He's retrieved me from the hospital two times in the last couple of years after I've been put there by bee or wasp stings. This third ER visit ended up more cut-and-dried than the usual.
But four hours is a pretty short amount of time to spend in a major trauma center ER on a Saturday night.
The ER seemed eerily quiet on arrival-the front desk staff booked me quickly and a male nurse named Anil took over. He wore dark eyeliner, spoke affectionately, and moved faster than anyone else in the entire department. In maybe a half hour I had an IV, a first round of drugs, and headed off to X-Ray. Anil had to wash the dirt off half my arm before it was clean enough for an alcohol pad. Bob also spent some time patiently cleaning the dirt off my face.
 |
| Waiting for my first round of x-rays. It's easy to smile when they put fentanyl into your IV. You'll be pain-free and giddy. For about 15 minutes. |
Some time later a young resident showed up-she bossily told me to do excruciatingly painful things and disapproved of my failure to completely obey, then poked very hard right where it hurt the most. After forcibly prodding a discolored swelling on my ribcage she decided I needed another round of x-rays to make sure I hadn't broken any ribs. "But we'll get you some more painkillers first."
Unfortunately my nurse wasn't in charge of administering painkillers-and the person who had the keys to the IV narcotics wasn't as efficient as my nurse. I took that second trip to X-Ray without painkillers. But the technician didn't want to torture me and skipped taking the one picture that required extremely painful movement.
Shortly after I got back the narc nurse returned with some morphine. Which DID NOT work. It left me feeling flat as roadkill, but the pain remained. The nurse also left a barf bag in case of stomach side effects. No problem there. I hadn't eaten in nine hours.
The ER transformed in an hour or two to "Saturday night" busy. Since Albany is a major trauma center, two or three LifeFlights and at least as many ambulances had come in since we'd arrived.
After a long long wait, one of the attendings showed up. She said no broken bones but I'd likely separated my shoulder and that I needed to follow up with an orthopedist or sports medicine doc in the next couple of days. Some other nurse came to give me a sling but couldn't figure out how to put it together. Once he left, I took it off, put it together properly and put it back on.
Finally they discharged me. Anil came flying in, whipped out the IV, gave me some discharge papers and a little box of Lortab and off we went, sometime after 1 am. We found an open McDonald's, grabbed a snack and drove the hour back to the condo. I still had my dirt-covered kit on and Bob had to help me pry everything off. While he went to bed, I took a bath of sorts, hoping I wouldn't wake up the racers sleeping in the next room over. Around 3 am I finally got to sleep-on a couch with just the right type of cushions to keep me wedged firmly on my right side.
Everyone staying at the condo was very kind the next morning. Mary McConneloug told me of similarly injuring her right shoulder-she has the same funny bump at the end of the collarbone as I do now. She hasn't lost any functionality. Kaila Hart and Cindy Koziatek made me breakfast. Nina Baum told me that I should consider this injury an achievement. "Why do you say that?" I asked.
"Because it means you're pushing to that next level. You don't get an injury like that unless you're really going for it." I have to hand it to Nina. She actually managed to make me see this as accomplishment of sorts. And she's right. I was going for it. Everybody knows that in bike racing that can have consequences. I don't think I will "go for it" any less now that I've had an injury. If anything I can't wait to ride and race again.
I followed up after a few days with Dr. Andy Getzin at Cayuga Sports Medicine. He said it's a Grade 2 shoulder separation. Which means I completely tore the top ligament attaching the end of my collarbone to another bone in the shoulder, and partially tore two of the bottom ligaments that run underneath the collarbone. These will not repair themselves. Total recovery will take 4-6 weeks. I've been icing the shoulder and using ibuprofen. But a week now post-injury I have some limited mobility coming back and can take the sling off for 10-15 minutes at a time. The pain comes and goes. Sometimes it gets a little out of control but I have drugs for that. I've been tired and even napping in the daytime but expect to climb back on the trainer pretty soon. After reading Krista Park's blog (she suffered a Grade 3 separation while pre-riding the World Cup course at Pietermaritzburg, South Africa) I plan to order the same brace she used to support her shoulder. I'll use this to get back to riding outside. Eventually. Thanks for the input, Krista! I'll pick your brain more about this soon.
I won't ride any more time trials this summer but I WILL be ready for CROSS season and will hop on my MTB too, as soon as I'm able. I miss riding with everyone right now but as Margaret Thompson pointed out, one week of my 4-6 weeks has already gone by. Now I'm down to 3-5 weeks.
See you all soon. Thanks for reading.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
No Crying in Baseball
There's no crying in baseball.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWoD2sQ9LiU
There's no crying in bike racing.
There is no crying in mountain bike racing.
But in pre-riding the course? Different story.
On Saturday June 9th Bob and I headed out to Williams Lake to pre-ride the mountain bike course for the Williams Lake Classic the next day. On our pre-ride lap I broke that rule about not crying. The narrow singletrack was twisty and rocky-and after a day or two of rain, wet, and slippery. My wheels slipped everywhere. My bike tried to dump me every chance it got. I cried in frustration, then despair.
Oh, the shame.
I didn't injure my pride. It was in a coma.
After losing all desire to try, I walked some things knowing I could ride them. Bob tried being supportive but it was tough riding for him too. Mostly he left me alone then waited til I caught up. Finally he made fun of me. I DID laugh while I called him names and hit him. But after going over one lap of the course (about 5 miles) I had just about had it. My front brake line failed right after that lap and the chain wouldn't stay in one gear in the back. Minor mechanical issues compared to my mental ones.
Back in the parking lot, Bob worked on my bike. There we met Abbey Alexiades and her husband Alex, who had also been pre-riding the course. Abbey emailed me some time ago about maybe getting some mountain biking in together. We immediately commiserated about the course and even if I hadn't fessed up to crying the whole time around my red eyes would have made it obvious. I think we both felt pretty relieved not to suffer alone. Male stoicism works for men, but women normally band together and commiserate. Sometimes that really helps.
All four of us headed to Favata's Table Rock Tours and Bicycles (about 45 seconds down the road from the race course) to try and resolve our bike issues-my front brake line, Abbey's headset. The shop was open. Big sigh of relief.
Bob got my bike working with a little help. I didn't want to ride any more that day. But Bob did. So I went with him. The course had dried a tiny bit and so had my tears by then. We picked a few sections, rode them better than before, and called it a day. I began considering my options for Sunday's race while we navigated to our lodgings and dinner. I only had two:
1) Fake a flat/injury/mechanical early on and withdraw.
2) Suck it up, and TRY. Isn't that the point?
AS IF I'd pick option 1.
I'd already signed up to race. As long as I TRIED, I could live with myself.
I posted on Facebook the night before that I expected to build character on Sunday.
Last Christmas Bob's parents gifted us an overnight "Romantic Getaway" package at a bed and breakfast called Le Chambord in Hopewell Junction about 45 minutes from Williams Lake. This is a very fancy place featuring four-star cuisine, room service, multiple-course meals, and three-digit prices on the wine list. Our package included a 5-course dinner, "chocolates at turndown," and champagne in the room. The food tasted bewilderingly rich and the portions were huge. I think both Bob and I had a difficult time imagining how someone could clean their plate.
We shared an appetizer and dessert, skipped a few courses, and saved half our entrees for the next day. When we asked the waiter to opt out of dessert he said the chef already had it in the oven. So the waiter delivered creme brulee to our room and we shared it along with some of the champagne.
Granted, I didn't feel like celebrating after the day I'd had.
So how did the race go? I had a BLAST. So did Bob.
My warmup (pedaling around for maybe 15 minutes) did absolutely nothing to help my brain. I'd convinced myself this was a running race where I carried a mountain bike and would get to hop on and coast a little here and there.
By the time we lined up to start I felt simply resigned to riding what I could and hiking the rest. We had six women in our category 2 (Sport) race. We started with some female masters riders and a beginner or two and a very friendly group of girls they were.
We lined up to start, and I felt very calm. What would happen, would happen. On the whistle a girl in a pink Sturdy Girl kit took off and the rest of us followed after. I started out at a brisk but comfortable enough pace-definitely a few notches below "cyclocross start" but in the first section of grass and dirt road moved up to sitting right behind Sturdy Girl as we came around to the climb that started the course. I could already hear her breathing before we hit the climb. I shifted gears as we started up. Nope. One more gear to go. Chunk. My chain came off. I sighed, got off the bike and yanked it to the side of the trail. Not only had the chain come off, it had fallen down between cassette and spokes then partly INSIDE the cassette. And did I mention jammed?
Every other woman in my field passed by and disappeared while I tried to gently and then not-so-gently extract my chain. A few minutes went by and I kept chain-wrestling. Unsuccessfully. The Cat 3 men's field began passing by. A young man named Cameron in a blue jersey with a camouflage Camelbak took pity and stopped to help me. He struggled too but his more patient and systematic approach seemed promising. Meanwhile men kept passing by. Bob came riding up and asked if I was all right. I told him we had it under control and keep riding along, so he did.
FINALLY Cameron's patience paid off and he succeeded in prying the chain free. I thanked him a third time, threw a leg over my bike and got cranking while re-evaluating things in my head. while pedaling. Mentally I pointed at myself in the mirror and LAUGHED. The whole time my chain was stuck, all I could think was, "Man, I wanted to race. I don't want my race to be over NOW."
Yup. And yesterday I had looked for excuses/ways/reasons to drop out. Today my excuse had been handed to me on a silver platter and now I didn't want it.
I got moving. I caught up with Bob, struggled, got off my bike, ran some, got on. He told me to keep going, go go...so I did.
I pedaled my bike. I had FUN. A couple of miles down the trail I saw a woman walking her bike in one of the rocky, tough, wet-root scary bits. I rode part of that section, jumped off where I got stuck, and ran past her, remounted and rolled along. Obviously if one woman wasn't that far ahead, other women could be riding just around the next corner.
I kept racing and started to move faster. The monsters that wanted jump up and BITE me yesterday returned to being simple obstacles today. I felt calm and happy, and I figured out the rules as I went along-it just started making sense and working. I started using my head.
Here are my race rules:
1. TRUST YOUR OWN JUDGMENT. ALWAYS.
2. If you KNOW you can't ride something, just get off and run. If it's too bumpy to roll your bike, hook the saddle on your shoulder and run. While you're running, watch the people riding. See what works for them.
3. If you RUN where other people walk, great. You're moving forward and getting ahead.
4. If you see what you THINK is a good line, and you THINK you can ride it, commit to it and TRY. 5. If you don't make it, you'll probably LEARN what you should have done to get through. Maybe you'll learn that if you were a little more committed it would all have worked out.
6. If you DO make it-YES. Bonus points! Stoked! Winning!
Oh, and sometimes you will do things that look really stupid.
Sometime somewhere someone will eventually post a video from Williams Lake which includes embarrassing things done by several people on mountain bicycles, and features me nearly falling and flailing with a leg to catch myself and then nearly going off my bike sideways. Good to know that's on camera...
But I rode and ran and rode on. At some point I realized this course had beautiful flow to it, and I started looking to find that flow in my riding. I got little tastes of it here and there. So I pushed more and more into the second lap. I began riding things I didn't on the first lap and running faster where I still couldn't ride. I was passing other women. Some were masters riders, some were Cat 3s. It didn't matter. I knew I was moving up again. Everyone I saw on course had problems here and there and it made me feel much better.
Oh and THE CAVE was magical. Imagine on a hot, humid day you're racing a mountain bike in the woods. And all of a sudden the course twists and ducks down and you roll into this cool darkness where there are two rows of little red lights like a runway showing you the way out, and you can't see the floor but feel your wheels rolling along it. Just magical.
I began taking risks and nearly ate it countless times. For some reason it didn't bother me. I just got bolder and bolder. Granted I still followed my rules, but I could feel my comfort zone changing and I just LEARNED so much. At one point I nearly endoed on a very short descent because I momentarily stopped paying attention and my front wheel drifted left and slowed my bike. I started coming up over the handlebars. I grabbed a small flexible sapling to my left, halted the forward progress of my body and let my bike catch up as I redirected the front wheel. Then I let go and rolled down the descent. The guy behind me thought that move was pretty cool. I told him I was not a mountain biker, that I just have occasional ninja skills.
As luck would have it, I caught up with all of the masters Cat 2 women, and also caught and passed two of the Cat 2 women, and all of the cat 3 women. Ended up third in my field. I call that having a pretty good day because who knows how long I hung out on the side of the trail with my dropped chain. And WOW did I have fun.
As a bonus, I got to eat leftover filot mignon, pate foie gras, and baked veggies as an after-race meal. Bob had leftover strip steak with the same sides. Yum.
So to summarize a few key points:
1. There's no crying in baseball.
2. There's no crying in mountain bike racing. Although there may be crying during the warm-up lap.
3. Once you're done crying, start using your head. It's that lump three feet above your ass.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWoD2sQ9LiU
There's no crying in bike racing.
There is no crying in mountain bike racing.
But in pre-riding the course? Different story.
On Saturday June 9th Bob and I headed out to Williams Lake to pre-ride the mountain bike course for the Williams Lake Classic the next day. On our pre-ride lap I broke that rule about not crying. The narrow singletrack was twisty and rocky-and after a day or two of rain, wet, and slippery. My wheels slipped everywhere. My bike tried to dump me every chance it got. I cried in frustration, then despair.
Oh, the shame.
I didn't injure my pride. It was in a coma.
After losing all desire to try, I walked some things knowing I could ride them. Bob tried being supportive but it was tough riding for him too. Mostly he left me alone then waited til I caught up. Finally he made fun of me. I DID laugh while I called him names and hit him. But after going over one lap of the course (about 5 miles) I had just about had it. My front brake line failed right after that lap and the chain wouldn't stay in one gear in the back. Minor mechanical issues compared to my mental ones.
Back in the parking lot, Bob worked on my bike. There we met Abbey Alexiades and her husband Alex, who had also been pre-riding the course. Abbey emailed me some time ago about maybe getting some mountain biking in together. We immediately commiserated about the course and even if I hadn't fessed up to crying the whole time around my red eyes would have made it obvious. I think we both felt pretty relieved not to suffer alone. Male stoicism works for men, but women normally band together and commiserate. Sometimes that really helps.
All four of us headed to Favata's Table Rock Tours and Bicycles (about 45 seconds down the road from the race course) to try and resolve our bike issues-my front brake line, Abbey's headset. The shop was open. Big sigh of relief.
Bob got my bike working with a little help. I didn't want to ride any more that day. But Bob did. So I went with him. The course had dried a tiny bit and so had my tears by then. We picked a few sections, rode them better than before, and called it a day. I began considering my options for Sunday's race while we navigated to our lodgings and dinner. I only had two:
1) Fake a flat/injury/mechanical early on and withdraw.
2) Suck it up, and TRY. Isn't that the point?
AS IF I'd pick option 1.
I'd already signed up to race. As long as I TRIED, I could live with myself.
I posted on Facebook the night before that I expected to build character on Sunday.
Last Christmas Bob's parents gifted us an overnight "Romantic Getaway" package at a bed and breakfast called Le Chambord in Hopewell Junction about 45 minutes from Williams Lake. This is a very fancy place featuring four-star cuisine, room service, multiple-course meals, and three-digit prices on the wine list. Our package included a 5-course dinner, "chocolates at turndown," and champagne in the room. The food tasted bewilderingly rich and the portions were huge. I think both Bob and I had a difficult time imagining how someone could clean their plate.
We shared an appetizer and dessert, skipped a few courses, and saved half our entrees for the next day. When we asked the waiter to opt out of dessert he said the chef already had it in the oven. So the waiter delivered creme brulee to our room and we shared it along with some of the champagne.
Granted, I didn't feel like celebrating after the day I'd had.
So how did the race go? I had a BLAST. So did Bob.
My warmup (pedaling around for maybe 15 minutes) did absolutely nothing to help my brain. I'd convinced myself this was a running race where I carried a mountain bike and would get to hop on and coast a little here and there.
By the time we lined up to start I felt simply resigned to riding what I could and hiking the rest. We had six women in our category 2 (Sport) race. We started with some female masters riders and a beginner or two and a very friendly group of girls they were.
We lined up to start, and I felt very calm. What would happen, would happen. On the whistle a girl in a pink Sturdy Girl kit took off and the rest of us followed after. I started out at a brisk but comfortable enough pace-definitely a few notches below "cyclocross start" but in the first section of grass and dirt road moved up to sitting right behind Sturdy Girl as we came around to the climb that started the course. I could already hear her breathing before we hit the climb. I shifted gears as we started up. Nope. One more gear to go. Chunk. My chain came off. I sighed, got off the bike and yanked it to the side of the trail. Not only had the chain come off, it had fallen down between cassette and spokes then partly INSIDE the cassette. And did I mention jammed?
Every other woman in my field passed by and disappeared while I tried to gently and then not-so-gently extract my chain. A few minutes went by and I kept chain-wrestling. Unsuccessfully. The Cat 3 men's field began passing by. A young man named Cameron in a blue jersey with a camouflage Camelbak took pity and stopped to help me. He struggled too but his more patient and systematic approach seemed promising. Meanwhile men kept passing by. Bob came riding up and asked if I was all right. I told him we had it under control and keep riding along, so he did.
FINALLY Cameron's patience paid off and he succeeded in prying the chain free. I thanked him a third time, threw a leg over my bike and got cranking while re-evaluating things in my head. while pedaling. Mentally I pointed at myself in the mirror and LAUGHED. The whole time my chain was stuck, all I could think was, "Man, I wanted to race. I don't want my race to be over NOW."
Yup. And yesterday I had looked for excuses/ways/reasons to drop out. Today my excuse had been handed to me on a silver platter and now I didn't want it.
I got moving. I caught up with Bob, struggled, got off my bike, ran some, got on. He told me to keep going, go go...so I did.
I pedaled my bike. I had FUN. A couple of miles down the trail I saw a woman walking her bike in one of the rocky, tough, wet-root scary bits. I rode part of that section, jumped off where I got stuck, and ran past her, remounted and rolled along. Obviously if one woman wasn't that far ahead, other women could be riding just around the next corner.
I kept racing and started to move faster. The monsters that wanted jump up and BITE me yesterday returned to being simple obstacles today. I felt calm and happy, and I figured out the rules as I went along-it just started making sense and working. I started using my head.
Here are my race rules:
1. TRUST YOUR OWN JUDGMENT. ALWAYS.
2. If you KNOW you can't ride something, just get off and run. If it's too bumpy to roll your bike, hook the saddle on your shoulder and run. While you're running, watch the people riding. See what works for them.
3. If you RUN where other people walk, great. You're moving forward and getting ahead.
4. If you see what you THINK is a good line, and you THINK you can ride it, commit to it and TRY. 5. If you don't make it, you'll probably LEARN what you should have done to get through. Maybe you'll learn that if you were a little more committed it would all have worked out.
6. If you DO make it-YES. Bonus points! Stoked! Winning!
Oh, and sometimes you will do things that look really stupid.
Sometime somewhere someone will eventually post a video from Williams Lake which includes embarrassing things done by several people on mountain bicycles, and features me nearly falling and flailing with a leg to catch myself and then nearly going off my bike sideways. Good to know that's on camera...
But I rode and ran and rode on. At some point I realized this course had beautiful flow to it, and I started looking to find that flow in my riding. I got little tastes of it here and there. So I pushed more and more into the second lap. I began riding things I didn't on the first lap and running faster where I still couldn't ride. I was passing other women. Some were masters riders, some were Cat 3s. It didn't matter. I knew I was moving up again. Everyone I saw on course had problems here and there and it made me feel much better.
Oh and THE CAVE was magical. Imagine on a hot, humid day you're racing a mountain bike in the woods. And all of a sudden the course twists and ducks down and you roll into this cool darkness where there are two rows of little red lights like a runway showing you the way out, and you can't see the floor but feel your wheels rolling along it. Just magical.
I began taking risks and nearly ate it countless times. For some reason it didn't bother me. I just got bolder and bolder. Granted I still followed my rules, but I could feel my comfort zone changing and I just LEARNED so much. At one point I nearly endoed on a very short descent because I momentarily stopped paying attention and my front wheel drifted left and slowed my bike. I started coming up over the handlebars. I grabbed a small flexible sapling to my left, halted the forward progress of my body and let my bike catch up as I redirected the front wheel. Then I let go and rolled down the descent. The guy behind me thought that move was pretty cool. I told him I was not a mountain biker, that I just have occasional ninja skills.
As luck would have it, I caught up with all of the masters Cat 2 women, and also caught and passed two of the Cat 2 women, and all of the cat 3 women. Ended up third in my field. I call that having a pretty good day because who knows how long I hung out on the side of the trail with my dropped chain. And WOW did I have fun.
So to summarize a few key points:
1. There's no crying in baseball.
2. There's no crying in mountain bike racing. Although there may be crying during the warm-up lap.
3. Once you're done crying, start using your head. It's that lump three feet above your ass.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
DIRTFest!
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| The Dirtfest Expo row. |
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| The NoTubes tent at the Expo. Bob basically lived here all day each day-though he did get out to ride a bit. |
DirtFest, put on by DirtRag Magazine, is a mountain bike festival and industry expo held down on the Allegrippis Trails near Raystown Lake in Pennsylvania. Last year Bob attended as part of the Stan's NoTubes contingent and Stan's would have a presence again at the vendor expo this year. Except Garrett (Bob's son) and I got to tag along.
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| Richie Rich preaches tubeless gospel. |
Bob and his work ethic headed off to staff the expo tent when we got to Raystown Lake. Garrett and I had "play" in mind and whipped out bike clothes, bikes, water bottles, sunscreen, the works. Bug spray for good measure. I decided to hit up the 2pm women's-only skills clinic.
I didn't really have time before the clinic to get a demo bike signed out and fitted, so I rode my own bike. All the women's clinics for the weekend met up at the Specialized tent with Rebecca Rusch, who's running what is called the "GoldRusch Tour" worldwide to encourage getting more women on bikes. Rebecca has won the Leadville 100 three times now, I think, and currently holds the women's course record for that race.
Rebecca gave brief introductions for herself, fellow coach Kate Holden-a pro downhiller-and several other assistant coaches. They passed around energy gels and GU Chews for anybody who wanted, and took a head count. We had somewhere around 30 women there.
We rolled out to the road, up the hill and over a short loop of trail as a warmup then regrouped on a small side road just off the trail. I met up with Molly Hurford and another roadie-we had ALL raced Battenkill last year and this year. While our riding group regrouped, we had a brief discussion about what happened to all of us in the sand pits there and then shut up when the experts started talking.
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| Class in session. Katie waits to demonstrate while Rebecca talks. |
Rebecca and Katie discussed and demonstrated basic hand and arm position on the handlebars, one-finger braking if you have disc brakes, and "attack position"-elbows out, weight centered, hands light on the grips. Then we worked on a braking drill (pedal hard downhill, start braking at one marker on the road and come to a near stop by the next marker WITHOUT skidding, then ride slowly as possible to the next marker). This helped some get a feel for their brakes and allowed the coaches to get a sense of how comfortable we felt on our bikes-or didn't, seeing as many of us rode demo bikes from the expo instead of our own bikes. Here's some video recap:
http://www.rebeccarusch.com/cornering-skills-101-dirt-fest-2012/
Near the end of the video you hear some hooting and "Oh my God" in the background...that's a couple of guys getting excited about seeing so many honest-to-goodness real live women on the trail. FEMALES. ON WHEELS. WHOA.
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| A rapt audience of women on bikes. |
After our first talk and skills drills the coaches divided the women into three groups based on skill level and took us out to ride. We would regroup periodically to discuss something about the trail that required a particular skill, and practice that skill on that section. Katie Holden led our group and I think those of us who could see her while she was riding saw some interesting things about the way she set up for corners and dived through. We rode a lap of the trail called Hydro (it flows). The trails at Allegrippis are variations on pump tracks that twist one way and another as they head up and down. Sometimes you'll find some rocks, an occasional root, a patch of mud. But I've never seen such inviting trails. Pick your speed and make your own fun. Those first two hours rolled by pretty quickly. We were repeatedly gawked at by groups of men on the trail. I overheard one say, sotto voce, that "I've never seen so many chicks on bikes." After getting enough of an eyeful they usually rolled on. Over the weekend this would continue. Katie said it was AWESOME that DirtFest wasn't just another sausagefest this year. But it got a little weird sometimes-even though women were at their strongest in numbers ever, once we disbanded from the clinic groups we dropped firmly back into the minority. Wearing a roadie/tight spandex kit also got a lot of stares from guys.
Another discovery: a lot of mountain bikers seem to believe that going uphill isn't always necessarily worth the effort. Every time we tried to reach a group consensus on which trail to take next, several people would chime, "But we'd have to go uphill to get there. Yeah, we'd have to climb a long way up. No, we don't want to do that." I kept my roadie mouth shut. Honestly, it's kind of hard to imagine any trail that only ever goes downhill. Unless you take a ski lift up and wear a full-face helmet and body armor on the way down, and that's never going to be my type of trail. Sometimes climbing ISN'T fun, but maybe I just believe in keeping things in balance. There should be some "up" and some "down" in any good ride, right?
After the clinics each day all the women regrouped at the Specialized tent (the meeting place for all of the women's rides) and after each clinic the coaches chose an "MVP" from each group to receive free schwag (helmets, sunglasses, big GU sampler packs). Just about anything could qualify you for an MVP award: best outfit, worst outfit, best crash, funniest crash, best attitude-you name it. Anything that the coaches saw and liked would be fair game.
The structure after the first clinic changed a little. Rebecca said that repeat customers coming back the next day would be divided back into their groups by level but new people would still have an introduction to the basics while the repeat riders would do more riding and more focused practice on specific things based on what we wanted to learn.
After the clinic ended at 4pm I signed out a Niner Air Nine Carbon RDO (Race Day Optimized). I thought that since Niner ONLY makes 29-inch wheel MTBs, I might as well begin with one of their offerings. http://ninerbikes.com/
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| Niner Air Nine Carbon RDO. This demo model's name is Trish-she's labeled on her top tube. |
While this bike impressed me with its "rollover" and lightness, I had an odd sense that I sat in the bike rather than on it. After a half hour I decided to stop looking at the bike and focusing on that "this isn't my bike" feeling. Then it felt great but also felt less than nimble at in some corners and on a couple of tight uphill turns. Then again, you could blame rider error for this and I couldn't rule that out. Regardless I thought maybe that the next day I would try some 650B bikes. But on returning the Niner and taking a look around at the other tents, I found there were NO 650B demo bikes available to test in the whole expo. I didn't get to ask every company rep personally, but I never saw any 650B bikes. So: more 29ers on the sample menu for Saturday. I've been told multiple times by more than one person that being 5'3 I'm too small to ride a 29er. I didn't feel one way or another after riding only one of them, but I always had a certain sense of incredulity-and indignation-that anybody could just tell me what I could and couldn't ride. With regards to riding a 29er, in one particular case I wondered if the same opinion (you're too small) would have been given to a short guy as opposed to a short woman. Even as far as women have come in oh, the last century, people still say there are things women can't or shouldn't do, or just can't ever do as well as men. So I don't know.
Bob, Garett and I stayed at a local rental house with the NoTubes crew for the weekend. We had a great home-cooked group dinner and drinks Friday night, generally hung out and enjoyed the company of Rich Straub, Richie Rich, Cindy Koziatek, Mike Busch and his girlfriend Amanda who did a fantastic job cooking all weekend.
I stayed up sort of late because we had so much fun hanging out but eventually turned in since I planned to ride all day on Saturday.
The next day at the clinic we met a few new riders and Sue Haywood also arrived to help teach. I signed out a full-carbon Felt Nine Team. I forgot to take a picture so here's a link.
http://www.feltbicycles.com/USA/2012/Mountain/Nine-Series/Nine-Team.aspx
Once the demo mechanic had fitted everything and swapped pedals, I went over to the Specialized tent for the 10am clinic ride.
Garrett wanted to join the morning group and the girls agreed to let him-he went with the "first-timer" group and I went off with Sue and Katie with another group to do more riding, and this time we would just go ride while Sue and Katie observed and gave pointers during periodic stops. I had more to think about than the bike I rode but when I finally looked down at what I sat on during a break in riding, it hit me that this thing was a serious go-fast machine. It could do MUCH MORE than I was capable of making it do-but who knew a mountain bike could ride like this one? Granted, at a price point almost three times what my road bike cost, you'd think it would ride itself but it impressed the pants off me. I hardly knew my wheels weren't the "right" size. It felt exceptionally stiff and climbed right along with me in a way the Niner didn't quite manage the day before.
We had so much fun swooping up and down and all over the place that our clinic group returned to the Specialized tent maybe fifteen minutes later than we planned. I asked Rebecca and the other coaches if they'd seen Garrett come back. Nope. I got worried. Rebecca told me to come back in 45 minutes if I didn't find Garrett-and she and the other coaches would help me to look for him.
Granted, the trails were mostly short, fairly easy loops, completely well-marked with maps at every major intersection. We were in the middle of a whole MTB festival. Garrett had a map, full water bottle with electrolyte tabs and pocketful of snacks, and there were SO many people around someone would have seen him somewhere. But I needed to know where he was. So I rode back to the Felt tent to return the fancy bike and thanked the demo reps (I told them I'd come back later to get more info about the bike). I grabbed my own bike, stopped at the NoTubes tent to tell Bob that Garrett was AWOL and I would go locate him. After a half hour of cruising the trails and asking people if they'd seen a kid in a blue Corning kit like mine, I found Garrett rolling along with one of the DirtRag Magazine assistant coaches and a group of five or six women. They were all having a grand old time. It turned out the beginner group ended up having so much fun that half of the group and one of the coaches decided to stay out longer and keep riding. One sixty-something woman in this group stayed out even after whacking into a tree face-first. She earned an MVP award for jumping back up and yelling, "That was AWESOME."
I made the rounds and told the expo staff, Rebecca and the other coaches that we had located Garrett and thanked them for their willingness to help. Bob and I had a talk with Garrett about "knowing where you are" and then we made hot dogs and burgers on the grill set up behind the NoTubes tent.
After lunch, I cruised the row of demo tents looking for my next test ride. Giant had loaned out all their small 29er hardtails. So did Trek. Then I saw the Cannondale tent and asked the rep there if he had anything in small frames. He said no and again I felt let down. But then he said, "Well, how tall are you? Five three? I definitely have something you can ride." Turns out Cannondale doesn't make 29ers in size small yet, and if you want a women's specific 29er, you might get to ride one sometime in 2013. BUT BUT BUT the medium worked for me, once I stopped looking at those large wheels. The bike was the Cannondale Flash 29 Carbon 2. Hardtail XC race bike, sharp looking black and white carbon frame with one of those weird-looking Lefty forks. I knew this bike just wouldn't do it for me. That asymmetrical fork just came off as too bizarre. But the Cannondale rep showed such enthusiasm about this bike. Besides I don't know diddly about mountain bikes and everybody else had loaned out their "little-people" bikes. So it seemed only fair to give this bike a try.
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| The great thing about demo mountain bikes is that very often they're already dirty when you get them. That way you can focus on evaluating the bike without getting too caught up mooning over a shiny paint job. This is the Cannondale I rode. |
When I showed up for my third clinic Saturday afternoon, the "advanced" group asked Katie and Sue to help us out specifically with cornering. Off we went again, through a warm-up loop, and regrouped on the paved road for some drills. We practiced some downhill zigzags on pavement to focus on leaning the bike and driving the edges of the tread straight down into the pavement (or eventually the trail). Katie leaned her bike to a startling extent in showing us what COULD be done.
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| Day 2, meeting up next to the Specialized tent (it's barely visible behind the leaves on the far left). |
We talked about steering in slower-speed corners by turning the front wheel, but our immediate focus was more on cornering (leaning the bike over more while keeping the front wheel straight). Sue Haywood: "Imagine while you're leaning your bike underneath you, that your body is still so centered above it that if you peed it would fall right on your bottom bracket." I doubt any of us will forget that one. Sue also repeatedly referred to finding someone named "Rolanda." Totally an inside joke I didn't get, so if you know what that means please clue me in. I never got to ask because every time she referred to "Rolanda," we were...rolling on. Oh, wait...
We reviewed flexibility in "attack" position, using knees and elbows as both suspension and compression, and how to push down on one hand grip or the other to turn the bike in cornering, I had some trouble with the drills we did to practice this. Sue said that when people showed her things she wanted to learn, she would do WORSE for a while until she stopped consciously thinking about it, then suddenly make improvement. I did too much thinking so maybe things would start working out later on, because they really weren't at that particular moment in time.
The Cannondale dumbfounded me. In those moments when we did actually climb, it WANTED to go uphill like no mountain bike I've ever known. I guess only having half a front fork means the front end IS lighter, and there's less to push uphill. When our group got more aggressive through the pump-track type sections I occasionally got a little "behind" in reacting to the trail's twisting and turning. I didn't know these trails that well. The faster we went the faster they changed. If my attention jumped from trying to look as far ahead as possible to staring at some obstacle RIGHT in front of me I could quickly lose track of where we were headed. I pulled off some last-minute reflex "quick save" moves that only worked because of the bike. Wheel size seemed irrelevant. This thing wanted to go FAST. Faster than I wanted to. It was ready to do more handling-wise than I could. The other two 29ers I rode were clumsy in comparison. I didn't want to test-ride any more bikes and didn't want to give it back. I forced myself to return it.
That evening I wasn't quite ready to get off my mountain bike when everyone else was, so I pedaled a few extra VERY up and down miles to get back to the rental house to get in a little more climbing, while Garrett rode back with Cindy and then Bob followed a little later. When I got back the shower was free and Amanda had already begun to cook again. Thankfully Cindy had opened a bottle of wine almost right away, since it took some time to get dinner going because we had a WHOLE CREW of people coming for dinner. I can't remember all of their names, especially after getting into my second glass of wine. But there were lovely folks there from Niner, Felt and maybe Giant (the rep who loaned me the Felt carbon bike came)...Richie had invited all sorts of nice people. After dinner they all went back down to the campground for live music and dancing, food, drinks, general partying and silliness. A few us including Bob, Garrett, Cindy and I stayed in due to tiredness and just relaxed until we started falling asleep.
Next day, bright and early, I returned to the Cannondale tent and asked to ride it again. The Cannondale guys loved this. Maybe my first impressions were a little too good. After only two hours on the bike the day before, I'd begun thinking about ways to finance a possible purchase. It really wouldn't hurt to take it out again and look for things I disliked, maybe find a way to talk myself out of it. Unfortunately I only liked it even more.
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| Day 3: Rebecca Rusch on the left, Sue Haywood standing next to her in pink NoTubes kit, looking lost in deep thought. Vicki Barclay is the other rider in NoTubes pink. |
After a little more focused skills practice during the last clinic, I ended up in a group with Rebecca, Sue, and Vicki Barclay. Vicki is a wonderfully talented rider and a new addition to the Stan's NoTubes Pro Women's Team. I first met her, I want to say, at Windham last year. We had begun catching up the night before over dinner, but talked some more while on the trails. She was recovering from a bad concussion resulting from a crash at about 33mph on a road ride, and then falling and hitting her head AGAIN while getting checked out the hospital-apparently the hospital staff left her standing up alone for a minute and she blacked out, hitting her head on a cabinet. What were they thinking??
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I made friends with the Industry Nine reps. I told them when
I eventually get that Cannondale, I'd like to put these wheels on it. They handed me business cards and said give them a call anytime. |
I received an MVP award when we got back to the tent "for being so supportive and encouraging to all the other riders," as Sue put it. Thank you Sue and Rebecca! My prize was a cool head wrap called a "Buff" that can be worn many different ways, and a Specialized helmet which turned out to be too small but this is no problem. I will find a worthy junior who needs a helmet and pass it along. I know there's one out there somewhere.
I hope to go back to DirtFest next year, and I hope we will have even more company next year. The riding is fantastic, the people are laid-back, and you can choose any dream bike you want to hit the trails. Who's coming with us next year?
Read more about Rebecca Rusch and her Gold Rusch Tour to get women on bikes:
http://www.rebecccarusch.com
http://www.goldruschtour.com
Katie Holden's website:
http://katieholden.com/
If you haven't noticed Sue Haywood's blog (just added to my blog list), here it is:
http://susanhaywood.blogspot.com/
Cool:
http://www.rebeccarusch.com/double-top-secret-project/
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| A closer view. Pretty, aren't they? |
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| Richie Rich preaching the tubeless gospel according to Stan's to some truth-seeker. |
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Cut to the Chase: Spring Road Race Recap
If you're on Facebook you already know I went to DirtFest last weekend. I promise to tell that story next post. But I'm behind, so I have to start where I left off.
Early-season spring road races: Bloomfield Spring Classic, Binghamton Circuit Race Race, Hollenbeck's Spring Classic, and Bristol Mountain Road Race-most of the Corning women raced in most of these.
Except for Binghamton Circuit Race, I spent a great deal of time getting dropped and chasing from behind at the mercy of whatever cat 1s and 2s were driving the race. Last year I got dropped once every race. This year I got dropped two or three or maybe even four times in each race this year, instead. Yes, definite improvement. Here's some short recap for those people looking for race reports.
Bloomfield GVCC Spring Classic
It was very cold, somewhere between 38 and 43 degrees. The weather forecast mid-week had assured us of moderate temperatures and dryness. No such luck once the weekend rolled around.
Ruthless Sherman, Daniela Floss and myself carpooled up together in Ruth's Prius, and we stared out the windows in dismay most of the way there. We hoped it wouldn't actually rain, but it began promptly as we started the race.
Full Moon Vista called most of the shots because Christine Schryver is so strong there's not much any of us can do about it. We knew not to chase Yvette because Christine looked so obviously much stronger that we knew she had the best chance of winning, and the MVP Healthcare girls and the NiceTri ladies would jump on Yvette so Corning didn't need to. But when Chris attacked we all had to try to go along. I stayed out of the wind almost completely the first lap, and Ruth stayed in it most of the time, which probably had FMV guessing who was our designated rider (Dany? me?) I acted like I was strong enough to hold onto everyone (might as well bluff when you can). Until I got briefly dropped early on in the second lap. Then I got back on. Ruth and Dany worked their buns off and we were all just mixing it up after FMV started things. It was so cold. And wet. The rain continued and the wind got stronger and it didn't matter because the punchy surges on the climbs continued and I BURIED myself to hold on going over one of the bigger bumps in the road. I knew I was in trouble then and would definitely get spanked. On the next bigger sized hill I got dropped for the second time and couldn't get back on, just before we started the third lap. I glimpsed Ruth looking over her shoulder back at me. I knew what she was thinking ("Maybe I will drop back and get Vanessa.") NO, RUTH, I thought to myself. It's NOT worth it. Ruth stayed with the pack but admitted later she thought about coming back for me. I told her she was better that way. I wasn't strong enough for her to help me.
I continued flogging the living daylights out of myself while riding the last lap of the race alone. I knew that several other riders had been dropped before I was, and they COULD be working together behind me, and possibly catch me if I slacked off. But I held onto 6th place and one upgrade point. I felt pretty happy about that afterwards, especially considering how hard I'd ridden.
My older brother Jason, who lives in Rochester, did his first USAC road race ever. And did pretty well, too, even though he raced with bare legs (insane). I'm still surprised he didn't freeze his leg hair off. In spite of being drenched and freezing, he had a great time. Crazy. I think he's slightly addicted already. After crossing the finish line and getting my timing chip cut off, I rode downhill with the other girls and froze my hands badly. Big Reynaud's attack. I had to hold my swollen hands under warm running water until they calmed down. I couldn't take off my soaked clothes to change until my fingers started functioning. After the race, Ruth, Dany and I all went out for food with my brother Jason, his friend Bob, and my sister-in-law Kellie who probably thinks we are all insane to race in that kind of weather. I have to agree with her. I will never seriously believe a mid-week weather forecast again.
Binghamton Circuit Race
Binghamton is an exception to the typical hilly road race out here, being a circuit race on a short loop that you ride over and over, with some stiff wind to make things really drag out if you're getting tired or get trapped on your own.
My teammates decided to help me try to steal an upgrade point or two in this race, since it's one of the only races where I have a chance of hanging with them instead of getting dropped on a hill. On this course the only hill isn't very big and definitely not a separator unless you're out of shape enough AND the pace is fast enough that eventually one more time over it when you're over your limit will pop you off the back to contend with the wind by yourself.
Speaking of my teammates, they WERE most of the race. We had a group of maybe 11 open riders, with the masters women and some cat 4 women mixed in. For the Corning team women, we had full strength in numbers. Everybody came: Margaret, me, Dany, LiLynn, Tami, Ruth, Sara.
We all rode together the first couple laps at a very moderate pace and got blown around a bit in the wind. Sara took a flyer off the front on the back side of the loop and got smacked with the wind but the few non-Corning women in the group still had to go catch her.
After maybe three laps they rang the bell for a prime on the next lap. Three of us sort of rolled a little bit faster down the hill and of course when I looked back there was a little gap and Corning unifoms all over the place but especially on the front of the group and everybody let us go. I said to the other girls, "Hey, forget the prime, let's just keep going." Dany and the girl from Rothrock (Evelyn Korbich) both agreed, and we just sort of kept on rolling and nobody did anything to stop us. Especially not the other Corning girls. Evelyn took the first prime uncontested, and then I did some on-the-spot teaching for Dany because she didn't know how to paceline. But she's smart, it's not hard and we made it work. The wind made life a long, long, repetitive slog, lap after lap. Dany rode over the line first to take the second prime. "What is a prime?" she asked. I told her it was a prize that she would get after the race. She liked this.
The umpteenth time through the start/finish Bob yelled something to me about "--sss is coming, wait up?" What? I couldn't hear what he was saying in the wind. How and why would I want to wait up? Eventually we caught up with some of the other girls from behind and said hi. LiLynn and Tami and a couple of others were riding together. Margaret must have taken off, I didn't see her just then. Then Ruth caught up with us! Apparently she and Sara took off a few laps after Dany, Evelyn and I rolled away, and then when Sara lost interest in chasing, Ruth kept going and after FIVE LAPS ALONE IN THE WIND caught up to us. I wouldn't have lasted ONE LAP in that wind, alone. Forget about five. Then without even catching her breath, Ruth jumped into the rotation.
So then Ruth and Dany and I all tried to gang up on Evelyn and I guess I should gotten to the finish line before she did, but you have to wait for the sprint or make a decision to do something else meaningful before it comes to a sprint and I haven't had many chances this year to work on endgame strategies because, let's face it, I'm usually just not around when it really counts in a road race, which is at the very end. Granted not every race we do is a hilly road race. We all get a chance eventually to turn things in our favor. A chance, anyway. So Evelyn got there first. Kudos Evelyn! She's only (I think) 16 years old but has been racing a while already from what I hear. She has a nice kick.
I feel bad that Ruth and Dany did so much work to try and help (and LiLynn and Sara and Margaret and Tami all blew the race to pieces behind us as well!) but I still couldn't figure out how to get to the line first. But hopefully we'll have more chances to keep working together. It's not easy in the road races around here, because the hills are big, I'm no climber, and I can't hold on to Ruth or Dany on the hills.
Dany was tickled with her prime prize-she picked a yellow alien head-shaped blinky light (the eyes light up). I have a feeling she will collect many more (and larger) primes if she keeps racing. Probably things more like wheelsets and loads of cash. We'll see.
Jason and Bob came out to race again, after staying the night at our place to shorten the Sunday drive from Rochester. Jason did two races, finishing 22nd in his first race and I believe 7th in his second race. Now he's about a 3rd of the way toward his cat 4 upgrade. I'm glad he finished safely and he felt pretty happy with his races too-he learned a lot about where to work, how to work smart and where to save energy.
Hollenbeck's Spring Classic Road Race
Well, finally we had the perfect weather conditions for a race. Sunny but not too hot, breezy but not too windy, and not a chance of rain forecast. Hollenbeck's always gives us one of the best races around here. It's ALWAYS well-run and organized thanks to a massive group effort from the FLCC. Because of this it seems the fields grow every year, and the women's race only ever gets harder. This year we had Full Moon Vista there again, plus a Canadian or two, Suzanne Lucash, Anna McLoon, and the girls in "Corning wear" Dany and Ruth, LiLynn, Margaret, Tami, me.
I got dropped. On the first climb, which is kind of long. The front group slowed down, very much because Ruth and Dany sat on the front waiting for me and also because probably nobody else would work. Plus they get annoyed when things get too slow! I caught back on after dangling in the wind for a while, and sat in just long enough to catch my breath before...I got dropped again. On the second climb.
I beat myself up and got back on. Eventually. Thanks Ruth and Dany for waiting again...
On the third climb, a repeat of our opening climb, I got dropped again.
I ALMOST got back on, but...no. This time I wasn't coming back, even though I had Canadian rider Julie Marceau with me. What a great chase partner! We worked well together.
I finished together with Julie. She beat me to the line, even though I tried to really get her. Maybe I could have gotten there first if I had been more convinced it was a possibility and acted on it sooner. One day I might learn. I missed having Margaret with me-last year we'd ridden in together.
Tami and LiLynn successfully finished their first races as Cat 3s and enjoyed getting to ride that extra lap and twice the distance (something they both wanted). Congratulations, ladies!
And Then There Was Bristol
I expected this race to be no different than Hollenbecks or Bloomfield. I would kill myself to get back on after getting dropped on some climb, and then everybody else would hammer the hills, and then just sit around and pedal easy for a while until the next climb. I would ride at my absolute limit on all the climbs, or over it until I couldn't anymore, and then chase chase chase, catch onto a group that would barely creep along at 14mph looking at each other, and sit in being bored until the next chance to tear myself to pieces on another climb, then chase like crazy again.
Well, that's how it happened. Just add in some extra distance (51 miles total racing), hot sun, wind, only two bottle cages and no room in the jersey pockets for another bottle, plus Full Moon Vista, P-K Express, and MVP Healthcare all having multiple riders show up and it made for a very long, hot, punishing day. I finished last, and a few other riders decided to call it a day before doing that last lap. Sara was already changed and just hanging out when we got done. I felt a bit envious. Finishing in itself was sort of a dubious victory. I had gotten to that stage of dehydration where you become a bit nauseated and slightly apathetic. That final 50mph descent made me pretty lightheaded too.
Ruth and Dany turned in strong rides-Dany 5th, Ruth 6th-despite their own dehydration and annoyance at the group's total refusal to even try to chase the two riders who broke away-predictably Full Moon Vista's Christine Schryver, and MVP Healthcare's Laura Meadley. It's possible that if the group had immediately given chase and cooperated with each other in the heat and wind, maybe the race would have played out differently. Ruth and Dany's frustration with the non-reactive, sluggish group resulted in either Dany or Ruth always riding on the front of the group in the wind out of a) sheer boredom and b) desire to just move it along. I wasn't around a whole lot because of all the chasing I had to do, but every time I caught back up I found the pack creeping along and sitting on Ruth and Dany. And even if one of the the Corning women had taken off, they would have been chased down immediately and then sat on again. Nobody else wanted to work. During one stretch on the last lap after rejoining the group, I rode on the front for a little while and then tried to entertain myself by riding off the front for a bit but let's face it, I wasn't going anywhere. Mentally I had a hard time chasing like mad and then sitting up completely, and my legs didn't appreciate all that sitting around when it was time to hurt again. In some ways it would have been better to just go hard the whole time. We'd have finished the race a lot faster, for one thing.
Margaret and LiLynn also had a hot tough race in the women's Masters field (which had raced with the cat 4 women?). LiLynn had been dealing with a problematic and painful nerve in her neck but opted to race anyway, so her race certainly involved a lot more pain than it should have.
I noticed just now, that looking at BikeReg's results page, no women's results are listed AT ALL. According to BikeReg, only men raced at all. You have to go the YellowJacket website to even see evidence of a women's race.
That doesn't really matter, though. Because LiLynn, Ruth and I had quite an adventure getting to the race, and then Dany, LiLynn, Ruth and I had some interesting encounters on the way back from the race (Dany had ridden with Sara and Nate, but caught a lift back in LiLynn's car since Sara and Nate had an engagement in Geneva after the race).
Before leaving for Bristol, LiLynn handed me the keys to Silver Bullet (her new used Volvo) and said "Cupcake, you're driving." Last October I just finally passed my road test, after refusing for some time to get a driver's license because I didn't own a car, and then coming around and realizing that a driver's license could be a good thing to have. Last year-the very weekend after obtaining my license-I drove Bob, his kids and myself to Ommegang Brewery for a CX race. During this first road trip behind the wheel as a fully licensed driver I promptly ran over a raccoon and killed it. Now LiLynn said because the raccoon crossed the road slowly in daylight it was probably diseased anyway and I had done it a favor. Let's hope so.
Then just prior to Battenkill I drove home from Glenn's after picking up my newly-tuned road bike, and on Route 13 headed up the hill to Newfield I killed a little wee bunny which I can only assume was suicidal since it ran VERY quickly across the road and threw itself under the car.
So on the day we headed to Bristol, Ruth picked me and took me to LiLynn's, where I warned LiLynn about my newly acquired habit of vehicular wildlife homicide, but her neck was really hurting her and she made me drive the three of us anyway. So immediately after turning off LiLynn's road I see a large deer trying to conceal itself behind a tree on the right side of the road, poking out only its head and staring with its giant brown eyes. That gave me a start but it stayed put. Ruth and LiLynn laughed. Another hour or so down the road a large squirrel darted onto the road and proceeded to zigzag as only squirrels do, down the double yellow lines. No other traffic in front of or behind me, I slowed down and blasted the horn while yelling. Meanwhile LiLynn and Ruth screamed with laughter. The squirrel decided not to die and removed itself to our left. Not even half a mile down, a large deer sailed over a fence on our right and flew across the road about oh, maybe forty or fifty feet in front of the car. We weren't in real danger of hitting it but we all screeched again and those two clowns in the car with me just laughed and laughed and I laughed too but I really felt convinced I'd kill something before the day ended. A few birds almost swerved into the car but veered away at the last second. So we made it to Bristol without killing anything except my nerves.
After the race, we loaded up the bikes and our tired bodies back into the Silver Bullet, cranked all the windows down because of the heat and cruised down the road with the wind blowing in our hair.
We stopped at a gas station in Ovid for cold drinks and snacks. My stomach still couldn't handle solid food but I grabbed a drink and a prize snack for later.
I stepped back outside to find my teammates on the sidewalk talking with two fairly inebriated young men in various stages of undress. One had no shirt but shorts and flip-flips. The other stood there in his bare feet wearing only a pair of boxer shorts-NOT the type you wear to the gym-I'm talking underwear-and accessories included neon-framed plastic sunglasses and a necktie. I stared for a few seconds then said to Ruth, "Hey Ruthless, do you know these punks?" Underwear Boy loved this and said "Right on sister, she's calling us out, man!" and high-fived me. Ruth didn't know them. The stretch Hummer parked at the gas pump had been ferrying them around on a celebratory post-grad school wine tour. They became fascinated by our story of coming back from a bike race ("Whoa, it's hard to DRIVE 51 miles, man, forget bike it!") and just as we had loaded into the car one of them jumped into the front seat with Ruth (almost on Ruth), took photos of us to document our coolness, then jumped into the back seat with LiLynn and did more of the same. Meanwhile the Hummer driver tried to herd them back into his vehicle.
Dany said, "Do you know Vanessa, that when this man in his underwear came out of the car at first he was wearing nothing at all?! He put his underwear on in the parking lot!" I felt some relief at not having to see yet another guy's junk in public. I had already seen one of the Bristol racers whip it out in the parking lot to relieve himself not even 50 feet from the port-a-johns (with almost no line at all). You see enough bare bottoms and whatnot in this sport as it is. Some guys have given me the impression they either didn't care who saw or maybe liked that a girl saw it. Please put it away, boys.
So after our little parking-lot interlude we all headed back down the road to Ithaca. Thankfully no animals large or small threw themselves at LiLynn's car on the way back. We returned LiLynn and her car home, and then Ruth dropped me off at home. After I showered, the house was quiet and cool (Bob was out running errands). I put my bike away, feet up, and enjoyed my gas-station junk food treat (CHEETOS!) with a clean conscience. And that ended the first part of road season.
Thanks for reading.
Early-season spring road races: Bloomfield Spring Classic, Binghamton Circuit Race Race, Hollenbeck's Spring Classic, and Bristol Mountain Road Race-most of the Corning women raced in most of these.
Except for Binghamton Circuit Race, I spent a great deal of time getting dropped and chasing from behind at the mercy of whatever cat 1s and 2s were driving the race. Last year I got dropped once every race. This year I got dropped two or three or maybe even four times in each race this year, instead. Yes, definite improvement. Here's some short recap for those people looking for race reports.
Bloomfield GVCC Spring Classic
It was very cold, somewhere between 38 and 43 degrees. The weather forecast mid-week had assured us of moderate temperatures and dryness. No such luck once the weekend rolled around.
Ruthless Sherman, Daniela Floss and myself carpooled up together in Ruth's Prius, and we stared out the windows in dismay most of the way there. We hoped it wouldn't actually rain, but it began promptly as we started the race.
Full Moon Vista called most of the shots because Christine Schryver is so strong there's not much any of us can do about it. We knew not to chase Yvette because Christine looked so obviously much stronger that we knew she had the best chance of winning, and the MVP Healthcare girls and the NiceTri ladies would jump on Yvette so Corning didn't need to. But when Chris attacked we all had to try to go along. I stayed out of the wind almost completely the first lap, and Ruth stayed in it most of the time, which probably had FMV guessing who was our designated rider (Dany? me?) I acted like I was strong enough to hold onto everyone (might as well bluff when you can). Until I got briefly dropped early on in the second lap. Then I got back on. Ruth and Dany worked their buns off and we were all just mixing it up after FMV started things. It was so cold. And wet. The rain continued and the wind got stronger and it didn't matter because the punchy surges on the climbs continued and I BURIED myself to hold on going over one of the bigger bumps in the road. I knew I was in trouble then and would definitely get spanked. On the next bigger sized hill I got dropped for the second time and couldn't get back on, just before we started the third lap. I glimpsed Ruth looking over her shoulder back at me. I knew what she was thinking ("Maybe I will drop back and get Vanessa.") NO, RUTH, I thought to myself. It's NOT worth it. Ruth stayed with the pack but admitted later she thought about coming back for me. I told her she was better that way. I wasn't strong enough for her to help me.
I continued flogging the living daylights out of myself while riding the last lap of the race alone. I knew that several other riders had been dropped before I was, and they COULD be working together behind me, and possibly catch me if I slacked off. But I held onto 6th place and one upgrade point. I felt pretty happy about that afterwards, especially considering how hard I'd ridden.
My older brother Jason, who lives in Rochester, did his first USAC road race ever. And did pretty well, too, even though he raced with bare legs (insane). I'm still surprised he didn't freeze his leg hair off. In spite of being drenched and freezing, he had a great time. Crazy. I think he's slightly addicted already. After crossing the finish line and getting my timing chip cut off, I rode downhill with the other girls and froze my hands badly. Big Reynaud's attack. I had to hold my swollen hands under warm running water until they calmed down. I couldn't take off my soaked clothes to change until my fingers started functioning. After the race, Ruth, Dany and I all went out for food with my brother Jason, his friend Bob, and my sister-in-law Kellie who probably thinks we are all insane to race in that kind of weather. I have to agree with her. I will never seriously believe a mid-week weather forecast again.
Binghamton Circuit Race
Binghamton is an exception to the typical hilly road race out here, being a circuit race on a short loop that you ride over and over, with some stiff wind to make things really drag out if you're getting tired or get trapped on your own.
My teammates decided to help me try to steal an upgrade point or two in this race, since it's one of the only races where I have a chance of hanging with them instead of getting dropped on a hill. On this course the only hill isn't very big and definitely not a separator unless you're out of shape enough AND the pace is fast enough that eventually one more time over it when you're over your limit will pop you off the back to contend with the wind by yourself.
Speaking of my teammates, they WERE most of the race. We had a group of maybe 11 open riders, with the masters women and some cat 4 women mixed in. For the Corning team women, we had full strength in numbers. Everybody came: Margaret, me, Dany, LiLynn, Tami, Ruth, Sara.
We all rode together the first couple laps at a very moderate pace and got blown around a bit in the wind. Sara took a flyer off the front on the back side of the loop and got smacked with the wind but the few non-Corning women in the group still had to go catch her.
After maybe three laps they rang the bell for a prime on the next lap. Three of us sort of rolled a little bit faster down the hill and of course when I looked back there was a little gap and Corning unifoms all over the place but especially on the front of the group and everybody let us go. I said to the other girls, "Hey, forget the prime, let's just keep going." Dany and the girl from Rothrock (Evelyn Korbich) both agreed, and we just sort of kept on rolling and nobody did anything to stop us. Especially not the other Corning girls. Evelyn took the first prime uncontested, and then I did some on-the-spot teaching for Dany because she didn't know how to paceline. But she's smart, it's not hard and we made it work. The wind made life a long, long, repetitive slog, lap after lap. Dany rode over the line first to take the second prime. "What is a prime?" she asked. I told her it was a prize that she would get after the race. She liked this.
The umpteenth time through the start/finish Bob yelled something to me about "--sss is coming, wait up?" What? I couldn't hear what he was saying in the wind. How and why would I want to wait up? Eventually we caught up with some of the other girls from behind and said hi. LiLynn and Tami and a couple of others were riding together. Margaret must have taken off, I didn't see her just then. Then Ruth caught up with us! Apparently she and Sara took off a few laps after Dany, Evelyn and I rolled away, and then when Sara lost interest in chasing, Ruth kept going and after FIVE LAPS ALONE IN THE WIND caught up to us. I wouldn't have lasted ONE LAP in that wind, alone. Forget about five. Then without even catching her breath, Ruth jumped into the rotation.
So then Ruth and Dany and I all tried to gang up on Evelyn and I guess I should gotten to the finish line before she did, but you have to wait for the sprint or make a decision to do something else meaningful before it comes to a sprint and I haven't had many chances this year to work on endgame strategies because, let's face it, I'm usually just not around when it really counts in a road race, which is at the very end. Granted not every race we do is a hilly road race. We all get a chance eventually to turn things in our favor. A chance, anyway. So Evelyn got there first. Kudos Evelyn! She's only (I think) 16 years old but has been racing a while already from what I hear. She has a nice kick.
I feel bad that Ruth and Dany did so much work to try and help (and LiLynn and Sara and Margaret and Tami all blew the race to pieces behind us as well!) but I still couldn't figure out how to get to the line first. But hopefully we'll have more chances to keep working together. It's not easy in the road races around here, because the hills are big, I'm no climber, and I can't hold on to Ruth or Dany on the hills.
Dany was tickled with her prime prize-she picked a yellow alien head-shaped blinky light (the eyes light up). I have a feeling she will collect many more (and larger) primes if she keeps racing. Probably things more like wheelsets and loads of cash. We'll see.
Jason and Bob came out to race again, after staying the night at our place to shorten the Sunday drive from Rochester. Jason did two races, finishing 22nd in his first race and I believe 7th in his second race. Now he's about a 3rd of the way toward his cat 4 upgrade. I'm glad he finished safely and he felt pretty happy with his races too-he learned a lot about where to work, how to work smart and where to save energy.
Hollenbeck's Spring Classic Road Race
Well, finally we had the perfect weather conditions for a race. Sunny but not too hot, breezy but not too windy, and not a chance of rain forecast. Hollenbeck's always gives us one of the best races around here. It's ALWAYS well-run and organized thanks to a massive group effort from the FLCC. Because of this it seems the fields grow every year, and the women's race only ever gets harder. This year we had Full Moon Vista there again, plus a Canadian or two, Suzanne Lucash, Anna McLoon, and the girls in "Corning wear" Dany and Ruth, LiLynn, Margaret, Tami, me.
I got dropped. On the first climb, which is kind of long. The front group slowed down, very much because Ruth and Dany sat on the front waiting for me and also because probably nobody else would work. Plus they get annoyed when things get too slow! I caught back on after dangling in the wind for a while, and sat in just long enough to catch my breath before...I got dropped again. On the second climb.
I beat myself up and got back on. Eventually. Thanks Ruth and Dany for waiting again...
On the third climb, a repeat of our opening climb, I got dropped again.
I ALMOST got back on, but...no. This time I wasn't coming back, even though I had Canadian rider Julie Marceau with me. What a great chase partner! We worked well together.
I finished together with Julie. She beat me to the line, even though I tried to really get her. Maybe I could have gotten there first if I had been more convinced it was a possibility and acted on it sooner. One day I might learn. I missed having Margaret with me-last year we'd ridden in together.
Tami and LiLynn successfully finished their first races as Cat 3s and enjoyed getting to ride that extra lap and twice the distance (something they both wanted). Congratulations, ladies!
And Then There Was Bristol
I expected this race to be no different than Hollenbecks or Bloomfield. I would kill myself to get back on after getting dropped on some climb, and then everybody else would hammer the hills, and then just sit around and pedal easy for a while until the next climb. I would ride at my absolute limit on all the climbs, or over it until I couldn't anymore, and then chase chase chase, catch onto a group that would barely creep along at 14mph looking at each other, and sit in being bored until the next chance to tear myself to pieces on another climb, then chase like crazy again.
Well, that's how it happened. Just add in some extra distance (51 miles total racing), hot sun, wind, only two bottle cages and no room in the jersey pockets for another bottle, plus Full Moon Vista, P-K Express, and MVP Healthcare all having multiple riders show up and it made for a very long, hot, punishing day. I finished last, and a few other riders decided to call it a day before doing that last lap. Sara was already changed and just hanging out when we got done. I felt a bit envious. Finishing in itself was sort of a dubious victory. I had gotten to that stage of dehydration where you become a bit nauseated and slightly apathetic. That final 50mph descent made me pretty lightheaded too.
Ruth and Dany turned in strong rides-Dany 5th, Ruth 6th-despite their own dehydration and annoyance at the group's total refusal to even try to chase the two riders who broke away-predictably Full Moon Vista's Christine Schryver, and MVP Healthcare's Laura Meadley. It's possible that if the group had immediately given chase and cooperated with each other in the heat and wind, maybe the race would have played out differently. Ruth and Dany's frustration with the non-reactive, sluggish group resulted in either Dany or Ruth always riding on the front of the group in the wind out of a) sheer boredom and b) desire to just move it along. I wasn't around a whole lot because of all the chasing I had to do, but every time I caught back up I found the pack creeping along and sitting on Ruth and Dany. And even if one of the the Corning women had taken off, they would have been chased down immediately and then sat on again. Nobody else wanted to work. During one stretch on the last lap after rejoining the group, I rode on the front for a little while and then tried to entertain myself by riding off the front for a bit but let's face it, I wasn't going anywhere. Mentally I had a hard time chasing like mad and then sitting up completely, and my legs didn't appreciate all that sitting around when it was time to hurt again. In some ways it would have been better to just go hard the whole time. We'd have finished the race a lot faster, for one thing.
Margaret and LiLynn also had a hot tough race in the women's Masters field (which had raced with the cat 4 women?). LiLynn had been dealing with a problematic and painful nerve in her neck but opted to race anyway, so her race certainly involved a lot more pain than it should have.
I noticed just now, that looking at BikeReg's results page, no women's results are listed AT ALL. According to BikeReg, only men raced at all. You have to go the YellowJacket website to even see evidence of a women's race.
That doesn't really matter, though. Because LiLynn, Ruth and I had quite an adventure getting to the race, and then Dany, LiLynn, Ruth and I had some interesting encounters on the way back from the race (Dany had ridden with Sara and Nate, but caught a lift back in LiLynn's car since Sara and Nate had an engagement in Geneva after the race).
Before leaving for Bristol, LiLynn handed me the keys to Silver Bullet (her new used Volvo) and said "Cupcake, you're driving." Last October I just finally passed my road test, after refusing for some time to get a driver's license because I didn't own a car, and then coming around and realizing that a driver's license could be a good thing to have. Last year-the very weekend after obtaining my license-I drove Bob, his kids and myself to Ommegang Brewery for a CX race. During this first road trip behind the wheel as a fully licensed driver I promptly ran over a raccoon and killed it. Now LiLynn said because the raccoon crossed the road slowly in daylight it was probably diseased anyway and I had done it a favor. Let's hope so.
Then just prior to Battenkill I drove home from Glenn's after picking up my newly-tuned road bike, and on Route 13 headed up the hill to Newfield I killed a little wee bunny which I can only assume was suicidal since it ran VERY quickly across the road and threw itself under the car.
So on the day we headed to Bristol, Ruth picked me and took me to LiLynn's, where I warned LiLynn about my newly acquired habit of vehicular wildlife homicide, but her neck was really hurting her and she made me drive the three of us anyway. So immediately after turning off LiLynn's road I see a large deer trying to conceal itself behind a tree on the right side of the road, poking out only its head and staring with its giant brown eyes. That gave me a start but it stayed put. Ruth and LiLynn laughed. Another hour or so down the road a large squirrel darted onto the road and proceeded to zigzag as only squirrels do, down the double yellow lines. No other traffic in front of or behind me, I slowed down and blasted the horn while yelling. Meanwhile LiLynn and Ruth screamed with laughter. The squirrel decided not to die and removed itself to our left. Not even half a mile down, a large deer sailed over a fence on our right and flew across the road about oh, maybe forty or fifty feet in front of the car. We weren't in real danger of hitting it but we all screeched again and those two clowns in the car with me just laughed and laughed and I laughed too but I really felt convinced I'd kill something before the day ended. A few birds almost swerved into the car but veered away at the last second. So we made it to Bristol without killing anything except my nerves.
After the race, we loaded up the bikes and our tired bodies back into the Silver Bullet, cranked all the windows down because of the heat and cruised down the road with the wind blowing in our hair.
We stopped at a gas station in Ovid for cold drinks and snacks. My stomach still couldn't handle solid food but I grabbed a drink and a prize snack for later.
I stepped back outside to find my teammates on the sidewalk talking with two fairly inebriated young men in various stages of undress. One had no shirt but shorts and flip-flips. The other stood there in his bare feet wearing only a pair of boxer shorts-NOT the type you wear to the gym-I'm talking underwear-and accessories included neon-framed plastic sunglasses and a necktie. I stared for a few seconds then said to Ruth, "Hey Ruthless, do you know these punks?" Underwear Boy loved this and said "Right on sister, she's calling us out, man!" and high-fived me. Ruth didn't know them. The stretch Hummer parked at the gas pump had been ferrying them around on a celebratory post-grad school wine tour. They became fascinated by our story of coming back from a bike race ("Whoa, it's hard to DRIVE 51 miles, man, forget bike it!") and just as we had loaded into the car one of them jumped into the front seat with Ruth (almost on Ruth), took photos of us to document our coolness, then jumped into the back seat with LiLynn and did more of the same. Meanwhile the Hummer driver tried to herd them back into his vehicle.
Dany said, "Do you know Vanessa, that when this man in his underwear came out of the car at first he was wearing nothing at all?! He put his underwear on in the parking lot!" I felt some relief at not having to see yet another guy's junk in public. I had already seen one of the Bristol racers whip it out in the parking lot to relieve himself not even 50 feet from the port-a-johns (with almost no line at all). You see enough bare bottoms and whatnot in this sport as it is. Some guys have given me the impression they either didn't care who saw or maybe liked that a girl saw it. Please put it away, boys.
So after our little parking-lot interlude we all headed back down the road to Ithaca. Thankfully no animals large or small threw themselves at LiLynn's car on the way back. We returned LiLynn and her car home, and then Ruth dropped me off at home. After I showered, the house was quiet and cool (Bob was out running errands). I put my bike away, feet up, and enjoyed my gas-station junk food treat (CHEETOS!) with a clean conscience. And that ended the first part of road season.
Thanks for reading.
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