I've gotten pretty backed up with stuff I've wanted to write about lately. Sorry.
I'm going back in time a bit to last Saturday to start things off.
After spending the whole week telling myself that I was going to go to the RMR crit, it actually wasn't too hard to get myself to go. But I hadn't only come to race. I was there to see how the new timing chip system worked.
I got to the race early, signed in, and spent some time watching the crew set up the timing device. It's funny how nice everyone is to me now that I'm an official and not just another racer. One of the guys was like, "What do you want?" (typical leave-us-alone-we're-important attitude) then looked over and saw who I was. Then it was, "Oh, come on in and look at this with us!" I think it's gonna be fun to mess around with these guys (and gals) and their attitudes for a while. If any of you ever notice that I've developed the holier-then-thou attitude, please smack some sense into me.
Because of some issues with the gate being locked, the race had been set back a half and hour. So I went and got a good warm up.
Then I came back and watched DH take the win again. He's awesome - especially to be able to come back so strong after having broken his collar bone only about four months ago.
Not too many of my teammate had made it out to this race. I did see Margret, who seemed happy to see me and gave me a big good luck hug. That was nice. Then it was my turn to race. I really wanted to line up at the back (because I really didn't want to be there), but Brandi made me come forward so I was mid-pack. We took off and I was feeling really good. And then I got passed and dropped. No surprise here. I just can't compete with a bunch of Cat 3 men. I time-trialed most the rest of the crit until the fast guys came around me with three laps to go. I sped up to catch on to the back of them, but lost them again as we made the hairpin turn back onto the drag strip. But, I didn't lose all of them. I was able to work with Tim E. (aka TJs dad) and another girl for the remainder of the race. As we came around to the start/finish line again Gary (the ref) called out to everyone that there was two laps to go. And then he included, "Except you two, (meaning me and Tim) you have 12." Haha. We made another lap, and as we came back onto the drag strip I decided that I was going beat the other two across the line. So I did. I don't think they gave it too much fight.
After the race I went to see how my timing chip had done. Surprise! They hadn't even bothered keeping the box plugged in for my race. I was disappointed. It would have helped me to be able to see how the timing system worked if I could have compared it to my own information.
Anyhow, after the race I went over to the Hell of the North course and did a few laps. I was supposed to be doing another hour and a half of race pace training, but I didn't have much umph left in me, nor much motivation. I got the time in, but not the effort. At least I was content to see that the gravel section of the course looks decent. Hopefully whoever maintains that road won't see any reason to lay down six-inches of fresh gravel in the coming three weeks.
Sometime during the day on Saturday I found my new max heart rate: 227 bpm! Something is definitely wrong with my Garmin.
Sunday I went and spent some time hanging out with my teammates over dinner.
Monday I taught an early morning Spinning class, then came home and showered before I remembered that I was supposed to lift weights. Oh, well. I didn't feel up to lifting weights anyway. I think I'm getting sick. So I calmed my guilt down by doing some push ups and crunches. The OCD side of me is doing this push up program: http://www.hundredpushups.com/ I will make it to 100 push ups!
And that brings us to today.
I had to go into the office at 9 for a quick meeting, and I was planning to ride at 10. I got home shortly before 10 and started getting ready to ride. Everything was going according to plan until I went to pump up my tires. At some point, I had bought those Specialized tubes that have the slick (not threaded) stems. My pump cannot handle those stems without it being a two-person job. One person to hold the pump in place and the other person to pump. I didn't have another person. So I proceeded to let all the air out of my rear tire. Then I tried to tape the pump into place and pump. But that wasn't working either. If I hadn't been kitted up and determined I might have just called it a day at that point. Instead, I decided my only other (and quicker) option was to change out the tire. Since I was running my carbon wheels, that meant I had to change out the brake pads as well.
That done, I grabbed my Garmin and turned it on. It turned off. I turned it on again. It turned itself back off. Grrr!!! Now I was getting mad. I ripped my strap off and grabbed my regular heart-rate monitor. Plus, I turned on my new GPS distance tracker application I added to my phone. Cool. Now I could have distance, speed, and heart rate info when my Garmin was on the fritz.
Now an hour late for my ride, I went outside, locked the door and straddled my bike. Then I noticed that I wasn't wearing my gloves. Screw the gloves! I left, imagining what carnage might happen just because my hands were naked.
I rode down the block and came to the first stop sign. Rear brake not working. Darn! My Eastons are thinner than my Reynolds. I stopped and tried to adjust the brake. Stupid gripper thing had come loose and I couldn't turn the adjuster without a wrench. Fine. I would just ride to the bike shop.
About two blocks before the bike shop I was approaching a corner to make a left-hand turn. I had the right of way and there was a van stopped on my left. As I pulled in front of the van, he started pulling out. I tried to make eye contact, but he was looking the other way. And he kept coming for me. I started yelling. "DON'T HIT THE BIKER, DON'T HIT THE BIKER!" Luckily, he had his window cracked and heard me. He stopped about a foot before hitting me. I heard him say, "Sorry." as I came around him. Scared me to death! And I was wearing my brightest red and green Amici Veloci jersey. How he didn't see me, I don't know.
I got to bike shop and they fixed my brakes, and also my bad attitude. After that all was well. Well, except for when I got home and stopped the timer on my GPS distance tracker. Apparently hitting the stop button clears all the information from the ride. I have no idea how far or how fast I went. I'm a numbers person, so it bothers me not to know.
Later this afternoon, I went up to a meeting with an official and a promoter. I had asked to sit in on the meeting so I could see the whole process of putting on a race. It was an interesting and informative meeting. I have a lot to learn.
After the meeting, I went next door to the bike shop, just to look around and smell the bikes. I was surprised to see Alisha and her hubby sitting out front. Strange that I run into more people I know when I'm out of town (and in the big city) than I do in my own town.
Driving home, I realized that I really am getting sick. I came home and crashed pretty hard.
Well, it's late and I still have to put together a kick-butt ride for my class tomorrow, so I guess I'll stop writing. Why is it that I always write the most when I don't feel good?
