The Bruise Report

As I look back on this past year I know I have grown... and not in the uncomfortable... damn why don't these pants fit like they use to kind of way.  Well, mostly not in that kind of way.

I just had my one year anniversary of moving to Colorado.  My reasons for leaving Kentucky, while quite unpleasant, were exactly the motivation I needed to make a change.

This year I've been more homesick than I ever thought possible, more heart broken than anyone ever should be and more desperate than I ever want to be again.  I've also been higher than ever with my feet firmly planted on the ground... on a mountain, I've pushed myself harder than ever, been more inspired than ever and rode my bike further than ever before.  With so many recorded than-evers this year, I'm happy to be alive and sane.  My muscles have really gotten a workout, brain and heart included.



I know I've grown.  I'm stronger, more nimble and despite all the turmoil, happier than ever.

This year I've grown to be much more like the person I want to be than the person I wish I wasn't.  And if this is anything like training for a bike race its time a for a little plateau.  Its time to use my new muscles to live and breath and create.  Its time to thrive.

Since its a Mandatory Monday, the Monday before a holiday when no one wants to work but everyone has to, I decided it best if I start my day with a craft project.

I've been planning to buy a calendar, (hee, hee) but get so overwhelmed with the options. When I look for one it's as if I'm stuck in some torturous nursery rhyme... this one's too big, this one doesn't start until next year, this one's ugly, this one's too expensive... 

I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW... ooooh, look at the pretty glitter pens... and now you've lost me... time to exit the store empty handed once again.

Wait... I have paper and pens and markers and rulers and clips and rivets and tape and a hole punch and wire and a work table and stickers and 10 fingers and a creative brain.

Society has taught us that we have to spend money to solve a problem while my markers sit in a jar drying up, paper wrinkles and yellows, all left in a pile of "one day..."


NOVEMBER... although the month is almost over I have to make a page.  I need to write down the tasks for this day and the next day and the one after.  I've waited too long to compile this list of days and tasks.

I use a big fat black marker to form my rectangle... turn the perfectionist switch off, this is strictly utilitarian.  Its good to know that if I screw something up I can start all over, I can make more months, I can make more days, weeks and years.  I can start over whenever I want.

I begin to fill in the boxes, each day fitting in one two-and-a-half inch square.  Then I make more months, the connection between days and weeks and months becomes interesting to me.  Sometimes you wake up and it is a new week, sometimes a new month, sometimes both but always a NEW DAY that fits nicely into a little two-and-a-half inch square... on a calendar... on a wall.

Suddenly I feel like a beatnik and that maybe the big fat black marker has gone to my head.  Mandatory Monday.

I'm feeling nostalgic.  This has been a big year for me.  "30 days has September, April, June and November..."  I fill in the dates and remember the events, the people and the places.  I know that I will see many of them again in the coming year.


The questions form and I'm overwhelmed.  I'm excited, I want to have a marathon of writing and riding and picture taking and riding and interviewing and the list goes on.  But that's why I have a calendar, a BIG calendar, because I look at the world of women's cycling and I know... THERE IS A LOT TO BE DONE.  Time to spread the Girl Bike Love far and wide.

Riding my bike will make me faster... yogurt covered pretzels will not make me faster.  I keep repeating this to myself over and over again.  It's simple... don't eat the pretzels... ride the bike... GO FAST.  I could look back at that empty jar of yogurt covered pretzels and wonder which part of S-L-O-W did I not understand?  But I don't... I can't... I won't.  It's all about tomorrow.

I don't like the flavor of regret... it drags me down... like a rim wearing brake rub, cobble stone street or the ever regrettable clawlike tree limb, grabbing your brain bucket and ripping your head off like a screeching creature from dinosaurland.  OUCH... and yes, that really happened.

There are two kinds of regret... regret of action and regret of inaction.  I live in fear of the latter.  Rarely do I regret doing but I always regret not doing.  Sometimes this fear, of course... well... causes problems.  Some-times... I say and do things I shouldn't.  Hummm, yeah, about that.  I need a filter.  Hurry!  Someone give me a filter, unbleached please, all natural fibers... I'm del-i-cate.  Seriously... filter... STAT.  This snout needs a muzzle.  Some refer to it as a Tourette's... I call it impetuous sharing...

"... the inability to maintain one's thoughts and emotions within in the confines of the mental faculty causing a verbal spewage that although not innately harmful has been known to garner utter disbelief, gape mouthed stares and the occasional mother clasping the ears of child while fleeing in horrific fear of innocence bruising declarations."

Not believing in regret also means taking chances and being prepared for the consequences.  I'm no Evel Knievel or Stevil Knevil for that matter.  No question there.  But I do take chances, I like pedaling down mountains, taking each turn at increasing speeds, dropping bigger obstacles and riding harder everyday and I have even been known to eat candy off of the floor… LOOK OUT.  Without taking chances there is nothing new, there is no growth, there is no success, there is no winning, there is no fresh thought, there is no passion, there is no love, there is no exhilaration.  

And it is for these reasons that I have accepted an invitation to compete in the Bailey Hundo.  These opportunities don't come around often… opportunities to push yourself to do something beyond the realm of what is thought to be possible.

The Bailey Hundo is a 100 mile endurance mountain bike race in Bailey, Colorado.  The race course follows 40+ miles of glorious single track mingled with fire roads.  There is 14,000 ft. of climbing and it maintains an elevation between 6000 and 8600 ft.  The race is by invitation only and open to a mere 150 riders.  So far the roster is stacked with names like Dave Wiens, Jeremy Horgan-Kobelski, Travis Brown and my good friends Tom Zirbel and the infamous Dejay Birtch.  Just typing these words makes my heart beat out of my chest, my stomach turn and my mind wander to race day. 

At the time of accepting the invitation I had never ridden more than 100 miles on or off road.  I had never spent more than 4 consecutive hours on any one of my bikes, I had never competed in an endurance race of any kind and I had never ridden a tandem.  But that was weeks ago, I've been busy.  And although this is a fund raiser and I knew that I needed to raise money… I was afraid to ask for it… afraid to completely commit… because there is that thing that I do… that impetuous sharing… that thing inside of me that makes me do and say things like committing to this race… the hardest thing I've ever done.  I mean what if my friends give money and I can't finish?  What if I'm in over my head?

But it isn't about me, if I win, place or even finish… its about raising money for Trips for Kids, giving underprivileged youth the opportunity to go mountain biking... sharing the thing that makes my life full and joyous and worth living every single day… the thing that makes my eyes sparkle, my brow unfurl and my stomach turn with excitement at the very thought of a day on the sweet single track.

So, I'm asking you to come along with me on my journey to finish this race and bring this irreplaceable joy to children who may never have this opportunity otherwise.  This is our chance to give the gift of cycling. 

Please visit my Bailey Hundo fundraising site and donate today.  And please follow me as I bring you up to date on the adventures that training for this race has brought me... thank you.

As the day begins and the weekend chores list themselves I sigh and start the coffee.  This is my day to play catch up, laundry, dishes, cleaning, blah.  The day tumbles on and I check the clock, time for laundry, laundry... LAUNDRY!  Mental check... grab the curtains, they must go.  As I take down the curtains, it hits me, wow... its nice out, the sky is bluer than expected and the sun isn't hiding behind snow clouds.  But it was suppose to be nasty today, plummeting temperatures, high winds and snowy conditions, oh, my!  I had already resigned myself to a late afternoon run.  Besides, today the laundry has to be done!  I head to the computer this time ignoring the clock and checking the temperature.  50.

Nice try Laundry.

I down a glass of water and peel a banana.  I look at the mess on the table with disdain and head for bike clothes.  Laundry day means crappy left over shorts, thread bare and lining the very bottom of the drawer.  You know the ones you don't want to be caught dead in.  Ugh.  I don the shorts.

Nice try shorts.

And as I ready myself, checking and double checking for my goods and gear, I'm thinking about my route.  This would be my first solo ride since moving to Colorado.  Whoa, I stop for a minute and think.  Surely it is underestimating to think I can count my significant solo rides with my fingers.  I've just never had a shortage of riding companions.  Hum.  And I don't yet really know all the roads... Hummm, this could almost be considered an adventure.  Time to get lost.

With serious wind and melting snow in the canyons my options are few.  I head North and then East.  I notice the riders are in short supply.  A fellow signal light cyclist comments on the wind.  He is heading in, enjoying the tailwind.  He smiles knowing I am choosing my fate.  Tailwind out, headwind in.  I smile back... I'm on an adventure.  I pedal on knowing that with each revolution my return trip will be that much harder. 

This road looks familiar, I turn South and am hit by my first serious starboard gusts.  I know you think you are something wind... you and your power... you and your blowy blow-ed windedness.  Not today.  Just because I am small, bike and body total weight less than 140 pounds wet, doesn't mean you can take me down, go ahead and try.

Nice try wind.

Mental check, if I remember correctly there are hills ahead.  More starboard gusts, bike at 45, leaning into the wind, I reach in my pocket and search for food.  I take a break by heading further East enjoying the tailwind, taking in fuel.  Now South again.  Starboard gusts, bike at 45 and I'm climbing. 

Nice try hill.

As I crest the hill it is time to face the headwind.  West is the only option.  The wind makes the descent feel like a climb.  The guy going up the hill with the tailwind is traveling faster than I am.  I want the speed so I pedal harder.  My face hurts and my eyes burn.  I push hard and tuck in. And as I approach the intersection I am faced with a choice, head in or head out?  My route is not planned, my decisions not thought out, my pace that of a snail and my face the location of a painful cell splitting ambush of wind and grit.  I smile and head out.

Nice try wind.

In a short time I find myself on a road I have only been on twice before, both times shared with a special friend of yore.  I pedal on, my soul shrinks and the clouds roll in.  I focus on the wheels, the pedals, the place where the tire meets the road.  Evil thoughts in... pedal, pedal, pedal... evil thoughts out.  I stop for more fuel.  The clouds and wind chill me to the bone.  The sun is no help.  I turn to head in.  I keep turning, make a loop and continue to head out. 

Nice try evil thoughts.

In a few short miles I realize my destination.  I am proud, I didn't know where I was going but now that I am here, I have made it.  I'm comfortable knowing I did more than I expected and start the trek home.  It is getting cold, the sun is hiding but my face wears a smile.
The path to home comes more quickly than expected and I skip it.  I've never gone this way, wonder where it leads... I get lost.  And without a thought I add another hour to my ride.  Now I am tired.
As I dismount I almost instantly begin to shiver.  I enter the house and a tornado of cycling gear ensues.   I head straight for the tub, recovery drink in hand.  I invent a new sport... tiny bathtub stretching.  I am chilled through my core and my muscles are weak but my soul, my heart and my mind are clear.  My brow is unfurled.   I look up at the slanted ceiling and I listen to the Black Keys through underwater ears.  I grin at the slanted ceiling...


Cyclist 1 Wind 0

Nice try wind.