The 4th place curse is broken!

Finally, after 2 years of racing bikes, I stood on a podium. A podium that counts. Not a first place finish, but 2nd place, and that's just fine with me.

Picture by Kristi Siconolfi
















This is me and my friend Nancy at the call up start. She raced with the 1/2/3's.

Pictures by Phillip Hurst











They started the cat 1/2/3 women and 10 seconds later the cat 4 women were off. I charged. I knew this course, loved it, and fully went for it. I took the first 180 with Cooper, Jen and Candy right behind me. I had no idea how many women were hanging on and didn't care. All I wanted to do was stay in front, make them tired, and then suck some wheel till the last lap. I learned my lesson from last year.












That was pretty much how the next 40 minutes went. I broke away a couple times, trying to tire Cooper out. That didn't work, and she'd get back in front, so I stayed behind in 3rd or 4th, trying to recover from a heart rate spiked to the 190's.

Then the announcer started talking about preems for the cat 1/2/3 women. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard they were passing a hat for a cat 4 preem. Then I heard them say there was a 3 place preem for us. I was in 2nd and Cooper was in 1st. I broke away from the group and won the 1st place preem of 40 bucks! I was stoked! I threw the devil horns up to the announcer who was yelling my name all over the place. It felt so fucking awesome. They don't give cash prizes to the cat 4 women, just merchandise, so the preem was a bonus.

Pictures by Phillip Hurst











I hung on Cooper's wheel for the last few laps and when they rang the bell, we hauled ass, neither one of us afraid to take the sharp turns, thanks to CX. Just so you know what I was up against, Cooper is the cat 3/4 KY state CX champion.

Cooper won the race, like I knew she would, but I was just a wheel away. She is a strong rider, and the fact that I hung on with her is a HUGE boost to my ego.

2nd place!












Bike racing can't get any better. Well, I suppose it can, with a WIN. Maybe one day.

An upcoming weekend of bike racing.

I saw something the other day under a friend's gmail status. It said:

"It's not about putting years onto your life, it's about putting life into your years."

Life just seems to be passing me by so I am trying like a mother fucker to live it up while I can. A new job can get in the way of that, though. It's proving to be a complete pain in the fucking ass to get a day off at this place, and it's starting to piss me off.

I had negotiated a few days off before I took the job, including this Friday. It will be a weekend of bike races - nighttime crits. Technical and scary, just the way I like em'.

Friday night is the Madeira Criterium, with two 180 degree turns and two 90 degree turns with some railroad tracks thrown it to make it even sketchier. Last year I hung with the 2nd group of women and came in 4th, out of 9. Thirty minutes of ballstothewall pain.

My favorite race last year



















Saturday night is the Hyde Park blast, a National USA Criterium. I didn't do this race last year because the fee's were too expensive. I cheered for my friends, and a Kenda teammate came in first. After the races, it was one big block party, all night long. This crit has a couple of 180's, a slight uphill to a 90 degree turn, and the turns are wide, so it's harder to stay with the group.














My goals for both races are plain and simple.

Goal #1 - keep the rubber side down.
Goal #2 - have fun.

The weekend.

Two days off to cram everything in, as much as I can possibly do.

Two days off to see Dominic, clean the house, ride my bikes, go to the grocery, mow the lawn, hang out with my dogs, go to meetings, meet with my sponsor, write inventory, blog, lift weights, steam, swim, get some sun, do the banking, and sleep.

Fuck, back to 40 hours, 5 days a week and man, is it an adjustment.

The 4pm-midnight shift is good and the hours fly by. Then it's 1am and I wanna sleep but I also want to see Dominic.

I sleep, but then morning comes and the dogs want to be fed and walked. At 8am.

I am TIRED as fuck. I don't nap. I drink coffee.

Tonight, I will go to sleep early and hope for 9 hours of rest.

I tell myself, this will pass, my body will adjust and everything will work out in the end, the way it's supposed to.

My Fumpa, in all it's glory.

It's bathing suit season again, and time to show some skin. I have gained weight and there is just no denying it. Even Dominic agrees, he's come right out and said it.

"Honey, you aren't as ripped as you were last summer."

I've noticed all the shorts that I bought a size or two too big, (so they'd hang low on my hips) now fit rather snug. I no longer have definition in my abdominal muscles, and there is a lot more flab circulating around my lower stomach.

It has been brought to my attention that I might have a 'fumpa'.

Definition of a Fumpa:

the pocket of stomach fat that rolls over tight pants; or lower abdominal excess skin and fat that becomes more apparent when standing or seated.

I have seen a lot of hardcore CX women with fumpa's at races. They can neatly tuck it inside their bibs, and with a jersey over top, it's hardly noticeable.

In yoga class, I have seen women with a fumpa hanging down while in Downward Dog position.

Men have fumpa's too, especially cyclists. They are clearly visible when the skinsuits come out for crit's and CX.

I think a fumpa comes from a lot of beer drinking, or perhaps childbirth. I do not drink, nor do I have children.

But I clearly have a fumpa.

Laying flat, you can't see my fumpa.

If I lean up just a little, there it is.

My 4 pack of abs has disappeared and in it's place is a fumpa.

I have accepted it and moved on. I do not have serious resentments towards my fumpa. I believe that my fumpa will grow larger as I age, and acknowledging this fact is just part of the aging process.

Embrace it, don't fight it.

This week in pictures - The "Summer is Here" edition.

I commuted to work every day but Monday, because I was still recovering from Mohican.













Dominic rode his jump bike on the Slow and Steady ride this week. He did wheelies and tricks all along the way.













A record 60+ people for the Slow and Steady ride pictured in front of Union Terminal. It's so awesome riding with people who just like bikes.












Looking tired and fucking old.

















Dominic showing his shit off after the group picture.












Riding downtown at night with loads of fun people.











A ride with Dominic. We stopped at Lunkin to see a B29 bomber take off.













Dominic, dying on a 30 mile ride. All drama.













After my ride with Dominic, I did a transition run off the bike - just a 10 minute run - but it was my first brick since IMKY and I loved it. Legs acclimated fast.













After the run, I decided I am going to do an XTERRA triathlon in July.













Me and Dominic at his nephew's graduation party.













Iffy Ride on Sunday. 60 miles of hard riding, 3300 feet of climbing. I could hardly hang on this ride last year and today, I hung in, feeling strong.













My goal was to hang on this girl's wheel cuz Annie Mac is a bad ass.

I wanted to use pills today.

....for the first time in 3 months.

My new job is about 3 blocks from where I used to buy pills. The thought occurred me to me as I rode my bike to work yesterday, taking the long way through OTR, since I had extra time to spin my legs before work. I rode right past the dope boys, not really thinking twice about pills at that moment.

Then today, when the job started to take a toll on me, I thought, well, I could walk down the street and get some pills and this place would be manageable.

The thought is just that - a thought. Not an action. My sponsor says if it comes down to me using, walk out.

Otherwise, suck it up and find something I like.

Dominic has already asked me to quit on several occasions, he thinks the job is turning me into a bitch. He's right.

I made a call to a friend who gave me a lead on a really awesome job, involving bikes. The position is part time, but the money would be the same I was getting on unemployment so it would be doable. That job will be available at the end of June.

For one - they keep flip flopping the schedule I had agreed to. I am ending my 3rd week there and they still have me on this fucked up 12n-8pm shift. I can't get to any meetings except for my Tuesday nite group. Meetings make me feel better, and when I don't go, I become insane. I can't get out to see my Mom. I don't see Dominic, since he works nights. I signed up for a 4p-midnight shift. I want my fucking night shift.

For two - the agents that work there aren't happy. One woman who's been there over a year told me tonight that she cries on her way to work, and on her way home. The lead agents at night are kind of freaky, and I have more knowledge than them. It's frustrating.

At the end of my shift, my stomach cramps up, I can't shit, and I don't want to eat. My brain feels like it's wrapped in saran wrap, all tight, and I have a headache that won't go away.

I don't want to feel this way.
I shouldn't have taken this job.

Mohican MTB 100

It's over. My race report is up on DrunkCyclist. Sorry for being so lazy but it's been a helluva a long weekend.

Special thanks to Gnome for making it all happen.

Me and Jeni the night before.












The start of the race.












Annie Mac and I after it was all over.