nobody blogs any more.

I have just about forgotten I have this thing, and seriously doubt that anyone reads it. Each year I speculate about the upcoming Tour de France, swoon over my favorite cycling hotties, and lament over my own lack or riding or tell tales of recent rides.

It's not that there aren't stories to tell, there absolutely are. I could start with my recent trip to Italy. I was fortunate enough to ride through some of the most beautiful scenery in Tuscany and Umbria. But was it epic? I'm not really sure - I think I'd have to do it again to really determine if it was. Seven days isn't enough riding for me in a place such as Italy.

As always, I need to ride more. During the week I'm lucky to get one ride in which is usually indoors, but it's a good workout that translates directly into riding more efficiently (and racing, if I chose to do that). On weekends, I'm out riding. I've only ridden once solo in the past 2 months, so I'm anxious to do that again soon.

The Tour will be exciting this year. I don't really have any predictions yet but will be watching all of my favorites - the Schlecks, Horner, Levi, Cadel, and all the sprinters. I'm not sure if Tyler Farrar will go. Jonathan Vauaghters had the team narrowed down to 11 but wouldn't say who they were or which 9 will be chosen. The Radio Shack team has already been announced. It should be a great Tour.

Decisions, decisions.

August or September?
2200 people or 250?
Oregon or Idaho?

Hmmm.

After doing Cycle Oregon 2 years in a row, I'm used to the training, the routine, the waiting in line. Frustrated by still not quite dialing it in so that I actually have time to relax. Without forking out another $300 for tent & porter for the privilege of sleeping right up against another tent (or 2, or 6), my experience for the most part hss been similar each day, depending on the length of the route. Arrive in camp, search for camping buddies, find bag, lug bag to camping spot. Find $5 to go get a smoothie to enjoy while setting up tent. Set up tent, find clothes, go find shower trucks, shower. Return to camp, usually right about the time people are already lining up for dinner. Eat, then it's close to getting dark. Sleep. Wake up in the dark, begin packing.

I don't know. I've never been to Idaho, closest I've been to setting foot in the state was Spokane, and that was only the airport. I don't like the jerseys, the Cycle Oregon "going coastal" is much better. But - the gang from last year is doing RI vs. CO, not that I can keep up with them while riding, but they were fun to camp with, even on my most cranky day(s).

Any ideas? Anyone?

Outside.

Actually rode my bike outdoors yesterday, for the first time since New Year's Day. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it. Even riding in a group, with frequent stops, my breathless struggling to keep up, and people chattering either behind, in front, or beside me, it was still fun.

I have not even been outside in a while, I remember thinking yesterday as we rode north on Cornelius Shefflin towards our right turn on Wren. I've been spending time inside my house, inside my car, inside my office. But not outside, except to walk to the car, between buildings, or a quick walk to grab some lunch. Outside is where the wind is, carrying smells of fireplaces, burning piles of trash, livestock, some pleasant, some not. But - fresh air! How I have missed it.

And the 2011 racing season has already begun. I have been remiss in recording my all-too-infrequent observations of the latest doping news, the new kit designs, reports of early wins, training camps, and predictions for Paris-Nice, the Giro, and the Tour. But at least I have prepared with my annual ritual of printing my color map of this year's Tour and comparing it with last year's, hanging it up on the wall of my office, and dreaming of July. Please note that I love, LOVE, the new Garmin-Cervelo kits, and do note that I linked that to a page showing Tyler Farrar, one of my favorite sprinters in a victory salute!

So, on to my own plans for 2011. As I sit indoors, staring out at a dry but cloudy Sunday, I'm already dreaming about riding in the sun wearing only short sleeved jerseys and shorts. I was lucky enough to register for Cycle Oregon before it sold out, so I better start training soon. I said last year that I was going to do all different rides this year, yet I've already registered for Tour de Cure and Cycle Oregon, and am planning another ride around Crater Lake in August. In between, though, I hope to do some different rides, because I'll really need to challenge myself to train for Cycle Oregon. Come on, Spring!

Trusting an old friend

It's been a while since I rode outdoors, let alone solo. But on Thanksgiving Day, just about the time most people were sitting down to their enormous feasts, I set out on a spontaneous ride. With no clue of the route I'd take or how long I would ride, I inflated the tires of my trusty Trek, jammed some gel & shot blocks in my pocket, filled the water bottles, and set out into the cold. The sun was out earlier but I quickly discovered that it was much colder than I had anticipated. Clad only in a Sugoi baselayer, long sleeved jersey, vest & knickers, but with 2 pairs of wool socks, I didn't warm up as much as I would have liked. But I figured that would just make me ride harder, make it count. Right?

Thoughts invade my mind as I pedal, across TV Highway and onto River Road. Got the pump, spare tubes. I have my cell phone. Does anyone know where I'm going? No, even I don't know the answer to that. Wow, there's a lot of gravel and stuff in the bike lane, good thing there's not much car traffic. I'm cold. Pedal harder. I'll be fine, because I trust my bike. It's like an old friend, when we get together, I'm reminded of all the good times we've had. I remember my first ride on this bike, a 70 mile LiveStrong challenge, then my first century. Good times. I smile.

What's great about riding solo is that you can go as fast or a slow as you want, without having to wait for anyone else (or have them wait for you). No forced listening to conversations you have no interest in. No worrying about yelling "car back" to people in front of you or having it yelled at the person who continues to ride next to you and talk to you as you wish for solitude.

Solo. That word has come to define part of who I am. On holidays, and sometimes, on bike rides. But it's a good thing. It's okay. I'm okay with it. I do some of my best thinking on these rides.

So I decide to pass the time thinking of what I'm grateful for. Seems like a good tradition on a Thanksgiving ride. First I think of my lungs, as they fill with air and oxygen to fuel my body. Lungs are good. Then, my legs, working like pistons, knees up, light on the pedals. Then I'm grateful for the turkey bacon and pumpkin pancakes I made for breakfast, for a kitchen to cook them in, for the ability to ride and to enjoy this day.

On Burkhalter Road, I stop to eat some gel, as I'm getting hungry and wishing I had eaten a bit more before leaving so late in the day. I look up at the sun filtered through hazy clouds and give it credit for at least trying to shine through them to bring some warmth. I don't want to wait long because I'm still cold. I consider crossing Highway 47 on Simpson Road, riding past the golf course and back through Cornelius and estimate how much time this will take. On a warmer day, maybe starting earlier, or wearing another layer, this would be a no brainer. But on this day, I decide to cut the ride short and continue to Hillsboro on Minter Bridge Road. I know this is the right thing to do.

I stop to talk to some pygmy goats along the road, who are bleating at me through the chainlink fence. They are incredibly cute! I feed them some handfuls of grass until the dogs start barking at the unwelcome intruder, and I continue on. I get to Main Street, which turns into Baseline. I consider making the ride longer, but at this point I can only think about hot chocolate.

Arriving home, I patiently enter the code to open my garage door but it refuses to comply. I consider how miserable it would be to spend hours shivering on my front porch, and contemplate breaking into my house. The thermometer on my porch says about 38 degrees if I read it right. Just as I take a tire lever to pry the screen off a window, I try the code once more and the door opens. Warmth, hot chocolate, a down blanket, a hot bubble bath. Then a delicious meal.

This is my Thanksgiving.

Training with Grain

Last week, I came across this on the Bob's Red Mill website after seeing it on Twitter: "Train with Grain: Welcome Aboard the Pain Train". I like the sound of that! Turns out, there is this cool contest where you can win a 'cross bike for racing - AND - they send you a free sample kit! Sign me up! This morning I went to my mailbox and there it was!
It was like my birthday, or Christmas! I opened the box, so excited to see what was inside. An armband to wear when I race! And this is no wimpy sample pack - there were regular-sized packages of quinoa, 7-grain pancake & waffle mix, steel cut oats, and whole ground flaxseed meal. Score!

This company does things right. Social media, recipe contests, blogging. And they are a sponsor of the cross crusade. How can you not love them?

If you want some great healthy grains, love to race 'cross and want a chance to win a bike, check out this site: http://www.bobsredmill.com/blog/category/train-with-grain/. Good luck, and enjoy the grain - but the bike is MINE!

Cross Season, Flo-style

After all that hesitation, I showed up at PIR with my bike last Sunday, and I rode it. In the mud. Lots and lots of mud. And I had the best time! I was apprehensive but didn't want to pre-ride the course - no, I'd get too tired. The weather was wet, windy and fortunately, not too cold. I had run out of excuses - I had skinny tires on my bike, thanks to Victor! So I signed up. Pinned on a number. Sort of warmed up. Lined up. And I raced! Okay, I rode. And I had a blast!

I wasn't fast, and the first lap kind of hurt. I didn't crash, but just kept pedaling around the corners, through the mud and the puddles that were really small ponds. The water was warm in my shoes. I didn't really run up the run-ups. I hucked that heavy bike over the barriers, one tire at a time. I heard my name everywhere and didn't look up but I wondered, how do so many people here know me? I heard cowbells. I saw the face of a little girl cheering for me as I rode by, which made me smile. I tried to go faster on the pavement. I cheered for Traci, Sherry, Sierra, Kendra, and Heidi when they passed me. I managed to do 3 laps and was ecstatic to see the flag signaling the end of the race.

I caught up with Melanie, Kendra, and Tina after the race to catch our breath, pose for pictures and swap stories about the course. I felt great, like I had actually accomplished something. Who cares if I was almost last? What matters is that I had fun.

I wasn't up for paying for 2 days of racing in Astoria. I signed up for Sunday and showed up in my costume, which I'd been really excited about for months (Thanks to Traci for finding it on Etsy!). Then I saw Melanie & Kendra, who informed me that they'd decided not to race. I promptly declared that if they weren't racing, neither was I. But in the team tent, when people asked if I was racing, I answered with a shrug. As it got closer to the start time, I reluctantly agreed to ride one lap. Sure, I can do one lap. I rode over and lined up literally 2 minutes before they started sending off groups of women. Finally, the start, left turn, then right, into the mud, past the PV tent, left and over the barriers, and suddenly we were being told to slow and stop. There had been a crash, so they re-started all the women. So, I did ride an entire lap and then some. Past the place where they stopped us, I coasted past Ali and promptly fell on the off-camber turn. Couldn't unclip from my right pedal! Argh. I made it and struggled to get up the long hill, then I think I wiped out again on the sharp z-turn. Wound my way through the barns, spotting Kender with my camera yelling "Come on, Flo!" which made me laugh. When I got to the PV tent again, I pulled over and put my bike down, unnoticed. It was no big deal, I just decided I was done.

I'll post pictures later.

Energized.

I have a fear of commitment. Many people who know me can vouch for this. I'm talking about racing. On two wheels.

It pains me to register for a ride in advance. I don't have an OBRA number. I don't commit to many events ahead of time. When I do, it's like I have a panic attack in advance and all the self-doubt creeps up into my gut at once.

PIR? No, I can't get there early enough. Blind date? Darn, I have a "Ride with Power" class at the NW Athlete's lounge that I've paid for in advance. Cross Crusade? Oh, maybe. But I have a big heavy mountain bike. Cross bike? No, can't commit the funds, and anyway, can't justify it because I don't commit to racing.

Racing? Me? Nah.... more like "participating". But that's okay. I recall a conversation with Russell Cree at Alpenrose 2 years ago. I told him I don't have the competitive drive which he called "eye of the tiger". Nope, don't have it. I saw the game faces yesterday at Rainier, the focus, the determination. How do they keep riding when people are screaming at them, ringing cowbells and yelling? Oh - I get it - that is supposed to encourage them! I vaguely remember from the first time I "rode" at Hillsboro - that yelling made me pedal harder, I got a charge out of hearing my name, and it made me both happy and self conscious at the same time. I'm not comfortable with all that attention, so I thought I can't let them down, they're cheering for me! That pressure. I couldn't take it last year, couldn't get up the courage to participate, so I didn't. I wasn't even in the right frame of mind to show up & socialize. Lame. This year, well, I think it's time to commit. People ask, are you racing? Are you going to race? Which races will you do? Oh... I mutter something about how I haven't thought about it, I didn't buy a cross bike, then I change the subject.

I love showing up at 'cross races and seeing so many people I know, even on various teams. They are all having a great time no matter how their particular races go. It's about fun. It's not serious competition (at least not for me). I like what Einar says - when asked how his race went: "I finished".

I've been thinking about triathlons recently. It was something I wanted to do when I turned 50, but couldn't commit. So, is it too late? I hate running, I tell everyone. But last week, to burn off some stress on one of my walks, I challenged myself - run just to the end of that street, I thought. So I did. No pain, no burning desire to stop. Felt kind of good, even. Hmmm. This isn't so bad. So I am seriously considering checking into a short distance (sprint?) tri for next season. Stay tuned - because I haven't committed to anything yet, I reserve the right to say that I never said any of this.