Added insecurity, it never ends...

I shook a client’s hand this morning and he said, “wow that is some callus you have there.” First, let’s state the obvious….YOU NEVER TELL A GIRL ABOUT HER CALLUS….REALLY….NEVER…EVEN IF MY ROUGH CALLUS SPLAYED OPEN YOUR HAND OR SEVERED YOUR FINGER….YOU DO NOT MENTION IT TO MY FACE (you might mention the separated digit, if only for the lawsuit). I sat through our meeting keeping my right hand slid beneath my cross legs constantly looking down at the callused skin on my thumb. I admit, it was obvious, it was a callus. I did not shake his hand when I left because I was afraid he would mention it again and well I am a girl and we freak about this stuff. (Note: not my hand pictured, ewww)

Girls, like myself, are OBSESSED with lotions, oils, and creams all to keep our skin youthful and soft. I pride myself on having soft hands. I manicure my nails sometimes twice a week! I check my yahoo mail for a Bath and Body coupons every week. Alas, as I am learning, the more time on the bike, the more calluses on your hands and yet another damn insecurity to keep track of. Obviously, the things below were just not enough to worry about…

1. Spandex: REALLY?!!! Do I even need to offer up an explanation? Spandex is the natural and possibly the ORIGINAL muffin top creator. There is the upper muffin where your stomach hangs over your shorts and there are the mini muffins where the shorts cut into your thighs creating “thigh puffs”. Guys normally develop very defined quads. Girls can develop them but then it throws our proportion out of shape and finding jeans to fit is a nightmare. Either way, you have to work up the courage to put on spandex or continuously work out to avoid “muffin popping.”

2. Helmet Hair: Ugh. Paul Mitchell needs to design products that will undo helmet hair or we need to add a hair brush to our multi-tools. By the time I stretch on a head band or buff, ride 40 miles, and return to my car, my hair looks like Gene Simmons running towards you. It’s not pretty and does not get any better with car windows down or continuous hand smoothing. Sometimes my pony tail holder will fall out which creates a Bell Helmet mullet….also NOT ATTRACTIVE. I carry hair rubber bands on my wrist when I ride for such emergencies.

3. Jerseys: To augment the continuous embarrassment of the spandex shorts, there is also the jersey designed to fit tight, hug every curve, dent, or bend of your body. God forbid if you enjoyed yourself during the holidays and ate some of grandma’s best butter laden recipes. If the results will show up anywhere….it is IN YOUR JERSEY. A quick note, suck it in when you see a camera. Even if it is NOT pointed in your direction or you are not the subject being photographed…SUCK IT IN. Make it a Pavlov response. You will thank yourself later when you are Facebook stalking and catch yourself in the background of other pictures.

4. The Wrong “whatever”: There are a HOST of things that other riders will make fun of you for….ill fitted clothing, ill fitted bike, stupid socks, gel seats, the wrong energy drink, the wrong food, the wrong direction….WHATEVER. It is best just to be prepared.

5. Chain Ring marks: I rarely have these anymore…they are a greasy blackened tattoo s, easily identifying newer rider miles out. Sometimes they cannot be avoided and as you grow more comfortable on the bike, you stop acquiring these hard to rinse off markers.

6. Calluses: NOW I have to worry that my hands will become stone…the curse of Medusa minus all the lover drama and snake-hair, of course. Even with proper hydration, calluses are unavoidable. I have researched alternate greeting styles to possibly avoid any further embarrassment by clients but elbow rubbing and cheek kissing has never really caught on here in the states and I do not consider myself a trend setter.

42 and holding strong

Finally, Mother Nature, obviously reacting to her own guilt for the New Year starting off on the wrong FROZEN foot, offered an olive branch on Saturday….mild mid 50-degree temperatures. The sun was NOT part of this attempted peace treaty but plenty of low hanging clouds and light breeze made for a comfortable afternoon. I found myself completely tickled pink with a overshadowing of giddiness. I accepted this substandard attempt to lure me out on the bike with open arms and anxious legs. In my weather haze, I almost found myself forgiving Mother Nature understanding that winter is a part of a quad-seasonal package.

Until now, my winter rides have been frosty lessons in general human suffering. I was lucky to last 16-22 miles and normally found myself planted in my warm leather driver’s seat as soon as I possibly could get off the bike. The necessity for exercise, the desire for continued strength, and the need to keep the legs spinning has been the driving force to endure sub zero temps, cloudy, grey days and blistering windy hill descents. Saturday, was a rare and much appreciated treat that even without sun, anyone could appreciate.

The taunting and teasing of the approaching spring was amplified throughout Saturday. I stood outside briefly on Saturday morning to conclude that my long riding tights would remain hanging on a towel rack while the shorts were pulled out. I tried to ignore my ultra-white, semi-translucent legs but had there been a power outage, I believe my calves could have lit up the room with their iridescent glow. There was no need for the hot embrocation….the warm sufficed and it was nice to not have my ankles burning from the edge of my socks activating the lava-like lotion. Meanwhile, the ride took on a life of its own.

First, my legs warmed up fast…unlike cold rides where sometimes 12 or more miles are required to truly “warm” the legs up (if ever). In this case, I was warm 5 miles in. Second, my ride was flawless. The bike performed seamlessly…I was able to practice cornering techniques and get in some quality hill work. Third, there was little or no physical discomfort. I did not have to worry about freezing snot on my upper lip, my toes turning light blue, or my nose morphing into a bright red dot on my face (all of the above have occurred). If my body and schedule could have handled it, I would have ridden all day. Instead, I settled for a generous portion of the afternoon and I folded 42-miles under my belt—the longest ride of the year so far and one of the best.

I was prepared for body ache, pain, and general discomfort. However, I will note that the discomfort was at best, “mild” and the only real soreness was due to the lack of chamois butter applied to the “gentle” areas. I ignored my own rules of slathering, spackling, and globbing the emollient into all appropriate areas, therefore resulting in a John Wayne swagger up some deck stairs later that evening. I spent hours after going over the ride in my head, correcting things I would like to work on and imagining the next ride…the next good ride.

Note, today there are snowflakes landing on my windshield…

It’s a simple rule-don’t poo your chamois

Runners have a fear. We are obsessed with poop. In fact, if you are above the realms of reading about bodily functions, then you may want to choose another blog to read because , in case you cannot tell now, this one is about number two. If you are a runner and you are preparing for a large race….a full or half marathon, you are as concerned with your bowels as you are about getting a black toenail, or passing the guy with sweaty back hair (trust me, you want around him as quickly as possible, it smells). As you train your body to endure long distances, you also train your bowels to contain themselves because when sheer exhaustion sets in, you are in trouble and your ability to control ANY bodily function becomes non-existent. It is not unusual to hear flatulence, see urine stained socks, or be hit with dribbling snot slinging from someone's chin. This is why there is such a looong line at the port-o-potties at races. We HAVE to make sure that everything is OUT. All systems are cleared for take off. This is why we do not consume a massive fiber filled breakfast…it will cause destruction of great magnitude later-- possibly out in the middle of nowhere. I presumed this was just a concern of my fellow runners and I prided myself that I have never “crapped” my pants while running (this doesn’t mean I have not thought about it or prayed not to….). I thought this fear, this reality, was reserved for this one sport until I heard a story about a bike race.

If you have ever been to a bike race; mountain, cross, road, or crit, you know that the riders on the course are serious. There is teeth grinding, gut grunting, scab scratching, leg churning action at the finish line. If there is no gap between the leader and the pack, then action is guaranteed to erupt in the last few pedal strokes before the finish line. It is very similar and as exhilarating as a horse race minus the tiny men and whips (oh, and the horses). The battle to cross the line is often marred by bumping shoulders, cursing, and the true exertion of all that is human. Such was the case of the story that I heard about a racer who in his last few robust pedal strokes dug deep….so deep that he found all of his energy being forced into his legs and then, there, while many onlookers gazed at the line, he found his chamois full (poo). Luckily this was ONLY noticeable to him and while the riders were making there may to the podium, cracking open celebratory beers, he found himself undressing hastily in a port-o-let (ahh, nice). I was even shown the singlet, now many years old, cleaned of course, and while I do not shy away from many things, I found myself taking a step back from the aforementioned garment, realizing that I did not need an up close and personal inspection. I trust the story to be true. Who would make that kind of thing up? (and you are thinking, "who would share that story?"...what can I say, I know colorful people).

All of this being said, I have a NEW fear now. I felt the bike was a safe place to displace my marathon fears. I do not worry about black toe nails on the bike. I feel I have ensured minimal chafing through the continued use of skin soothing emollients. Not once, did I fret on the century ride that I might have explosive entrails. Somehow I found comfort in the acres of cow pastures that if nature called, I would find a secure hay bale or nicely placed ditch to “unload” my fear. But, racing is different…it brings out another personality, something inside…and quite literally, “something inside.” As I am outlining what my year is going to look like on the bike, contemplating racing, I thought my greatest concern would be the “right” training, improving my bike handling skills, or building endurance. Obviously, I now have to worry that in all this preparation, I once again have to endure long lines at the port-o-lets and make sure that all of my shorts are black. I have to worry that I may need to rely on my extreme flexibility to change out of my clothes in a coffin sized metal cantankerous fumed box. Note to self: BRING EXTRA CLOTHES. Second note to self: GET CAR WINDOWS TINTED.

My insurance will not pay for frostbite...

Um. I would first like to express my extreme discontent with this current winter “situation.” I live in what is supposedly known as the south but this can really cause a great argument amongst locals because it depends what you envision when you think about the south. If you are picturing antebellum pastel dresses, laced parasols, and women fainting with a long drawl on their words, that is NOT Louisville, Kentucky. We are more of a “hybrid” city with slow talkers (we have an accent, face it, deal with it) but our meals generally lack the large amounts of bacon fat that true southerners enjoy (true southern are envisioning that can on their stove of bacon grease used for seasoning of all meals right now). Our winters are normally mild…like generic salsa at a cheap Mexican restaurant…it’s ketchup with sugar and chunks of canned tomato—nothing too wild and exciting but you eat it anyway because you are hungry and it is free.

Well, edit that description because our norm has been turned into the habanera salsa complete with a warning on the label and the need for a glass of milk after. Here six days into the new decade, we got about 4-5 inches of snow (which is pretty) but more worrisome the mercury took a serious nose dive straight down to the floor. We have warnings on the news about the wind-chill (which is hovering around zero right now) and the threat of frostbite. For a cyclist, if the snow wasn’t bad enough to contend with, coming to grips that your bike and you may freeze stops you in your tracks.

Frostbite means you can flat out forget about getting on your bike and going outside. I mean, frostbite is a true bad ass (no tattoos needed). It can slow down your body including the function of your major organs, it can freeze your joints, your phalanges, and even your eyelashes. I just changed insurance providers and after reviewing the 102-page policy in size 6 font, I cannot find anything that affirms they will cover payment for frostbite but they will pay for my gastric bypass surgery.

I mean, there is little to do to pass my time. I can do a solid cardio workout, read, and watch bad movies. I have some serious respect for the temperature gauge especially when it cannot even get above zero. I will wait patiently for the snow to thaw and the temps to warm…so my legs can once again know the enjoyment of a ride.

Of course…I should have known, some people JUST CANNOT WAIT and THEY CANNOT RESPECT SUBZERO TEMPS…and they INSIST on being on the bike. They have to ONE UP those of us who refuse to freeze our eyelashes off for the enjoyment of a ride. Even MORE freaking amazing, they INSIST on multitasking. Thank you David Peterson (click and scroll down a bit--you will see it)….now I feel like a true failure. Obviously, HE has better insurance.

It's a Wrap

I can tell you that I was NOT looking forward to the New Year last year. I wrapped up the year unhappy and uncertain. I can tell you this year is different. I am not the type of person who makes NewYears resolutions. If there are changes I need to make in life, I do not need a lunar calendar to mark them or list them out for the fridge. 2009 was full of plenty of accomplishments and failures that could not have been put on a simple check list. But here is a brief recap:

January-ish

• I have four words for you that I need you to repeat to yourself if you ever see me…NO MORE SHORT HAIR. Early in the year, I went and chopped off my hair and I mean CHOPPED IT OFF (about 7 inches). Now, most girls cut their hair off because of a boy or some horrible break-up….I was more curious to see what it would be like really short. Well, now I know and one year later, it is still not quite as long as I would like. Special notes to my close friends, if I EVER mention cutting my hair short again, you are to tackle me to the ground and beat me over the head until I change my mind. If that is too drastic just remind me how FAT my face looks and that should snap me back to reality real quick.

• The year not only started off with bad hair days but also HORRIBLE weather. First we got snow, and I mean a lot of snow (the kind that people from Chicago talk about) but then the beautiful crisp white snow was covered in a layer of thick, cold ice. It added an extra full week off from work and that made fun times for sledding but most of the city was without power. I spent one morning cooking pancakes for 10 people in my small condo including a dog and two extra cats.

February-ish

• I dropped some serious money on a bike. I sat down and wrote a large check for a bike almost as a Valentines Day present to myself (nothing says love like a bike). I have not owned a road bike since I was 15 and without seeing the bike, riding it, or touching it, I bought a frame that I have absolutely NO regrets about. The entire process of choosing, buying, building, and caring for this bike have given me more education than a set of cycling encyclopedias (is there such a thing?). I cannot imagine all the time I have clocked in researching bikes but I promise you it is a daily fix now.

• Speaking of Valentines Day. Few of my friends are into stuffed plush hearts and chocolate coated bobbles of love. Such discussion usually induces mock vomit sounds. So the ladies loaded up in the car to hit the gun range which actually was a farm in Waddy, Kentucky (yes, there is a place called Waddy). The afternoon was spent with a bottle of bourbon offered as payment to shoot some $60 worth of shells at a target that we nicknamed whatever "issue" was bothering us for the day. It is hard not to think of Charlie's Angels, although none of those ladies shot a shotgun with their feathered hair (wussies!).

March-April-ish

• With the onset of the bike came two new ideas. One….in the kitchen of a friends house over dinner while the frost was still on the trees outside, my friend and I decided that we were going to do a century ride even though my rode bike was not built and she had only put 100 miles total on her bike in two years. Looking back at that time, neither of us had ANY idea what we were getting ourselves into but we made the commitment to complete the Old Kentucky Home Tour (OKHT) over a peanut butter dessert "thingy" and never looked back. The second idea was the mere fact that I needed to get serious about my fitness and taking care of myself. I stopped drinking any soft drinks and cleaned the diet up quickly. The recent diagnosis of hypertenstion was definitely a motivator and a wake-up call to get serious about my body. The pay off has been a leaner and more energetic girl (is that even possible?). I still binge on McDonald’s French fries but I still rarely have a Coke. Progress is slow people!

Late May-through September-ish

• With the decision to complete a century and only having three months to train, I poured myself into the bike for one of the BEST summers to date! The rides, the adventures, the pain was all worth it. Every ride, some new obstacle was overcome and although ALL of my spare time was spent spinning, it paid off in September. I met some amazing riders this summer and acquired a ride partner that really challenged me on all levels. It was a fun experience to be with your friends on a new level of suffering.

August 4th

• While I thought the OKHT would be the one of the hardest challenges of year, instead I found another challenge as I watched my office flood one early Tuesday morning engulfing my car in five feet of sewage water. I learned a lesson in materialism. You cannot control the environment around you and when faced with raw sewage, rain, and being stranded in your own hometown, my car seemed a pretty insignificant loss. It was a minor setback but the first thing replaced was my bike helmet (lost in the trunk of the car). Afterall, with or without a car, training went on.

September 12th

• The morning of the OKHT, I woke up like I would for a foot race, early and nervous and hoping that coffee would jolt the system to do all activities (you know..."activities") before I was out on the course in the middle of nowhere. I was more worried I would forget something or neglect some vital part, that I nearly caused myself a full blown anxiety attack. Lee and I rode our own slow pace with only the goal to finish, but something happened along the way. WE HAD FUN! We laughed the whole ride and took turns poking fun at one another’s snot rockets. The last twenty miles were a struggle but not deterring. We finished and I have never enjoyed a bed so much as I did that night. I was more impressed that I was NOT that sore…no blisters, no wrecks, no injuries. When I rolled in Sunday, the best thing I could have seen were my mom and dad standing there…and yes, I cried, only because I was so tired.

October-ish

• Following the OKHT and now fully addicted to cycling, a few of us signed up for the Harvest Homecoming which is normally a rambling stroll through the foothills of Southern Indiana. It happened to be one of the coldest days of the year that morning. Again, my co-riders strapped warm weather gear and we still did the ride complete with an afternoon of pumpkin picking, sangria drinking, and the smells of fall allergies in the air. In a sense, it was the close of the cycling season....officially anyway (we still tried to sneak rides in until the time change).

November 30th

• I turned 33 this fall…I am not sure where the years went, but they are gone. I feel 23 on most days but I know that this upcoming year is 34 and I admit, it freaks me out. There are so many things left to do on my life list ….somehow, 33-years have shot by and I am not sure how. I am not done yet. I am just getting warmed up people--stand back!

December-ish

• The year is done. It flew by so quickly. There have been so many changes, so many moments to try and recall. I like to think of the New Year as a clean slate or the "play" button on the reel of life. When done, we simply start all over. I wish I could make the best guess as to what will happen next but I do not know. I can make a few predictions. I do know that without my friends and family, I would not be where I am now...wherever that is. Bring on 2010....let's roll.

Say it with bike parts…

The holiday commercials showing this season might as well be draped in sugary maple syrup, candy coated dots, and whip cream. There is NOTHING more un-original than a couple sitting under a tree with some poor guy presenting a diamond crusted bobble to delight his lady. She always acts surprised when in fact, we all know she probably tore the page out of a catalogue and placed it inside his suit pocket. These commercials are the bane of my holiday television enjoyment, interrupting the merriment of The Grinch. I think it sets a standard that women are only impressed by expensive, diamond-studded gifts. (Note you rarely see a woman giving a guy anything…because that might be showcasing a partnership….and commercials would rather bore us with traditional gender roles). I digress.

Certainly, jewelry is something that has value both monetary and sentimental. Many women are HUGE fans of little black and blue boxes. Beyond jewelry and perhaps with MORE meaning are the many other gift ideas out there not causing mountains of debt and possible bankruptcy. There is something to be said when a friend or loved one takes the time to give a gift that has meaning and significance to the receiver. It would be ridiculous to give me Celine Dion tickets considering when I hear her music, I am sent into an unbelievable rage. This would only be entertaining if you would like to see me go into a childish tantrum with the theme music from the Titanic spewing in the background. It would be just as useless to give me candied walnuts considering they can cause death unless they have an eppy pen attached to the bow.

For women, like me, friends, family, acquaintances may be at a loss as to what to give. For the girl who is not impressed with clothing, furs, and jewels, what does that leave? I think it is OBVIOUS….BIKE PARTS….BIKE CLOTHES….BIKES. In terms of giving, they are the gifts that keep on giving…miles and miles down the road. For those that are cash strapped, considering the purchase of a $5000 bike frame may be overwhelming similar to selecting a piece of jewelry that you may have to finance for 64-months in order to take home. Thankfully, the best gifts are those little gifts that make the bike and the rider happy. Special note: Even if you think it is a stupid gift…the receiver does not, promise.

If, in fact, there were a commercial for such a gift…it might be a little something like this.

Cue the perfectly lit Christmas Tree, crackling fire roaring in the background

Enter 2 people

Soft music (Phish or Pink Floyd) (It’s a modern take, remember?)

Person One: I hope this doesn’t suck
(handing person two a bag)

Person Two: How could it?

Person One: Because you may think it is weird
(meanwhile person two begins taking out the tissue paper, looking down into the bag)

Person Two: OH….a Chris King bottom bracket and red Hudz…you shouldn’t have—they are PERFECT!

Person One: Wipes brow with sweat rag

Going Pro

Being a beginner on the bike can at times be multiple lessons in humility as you are often reminded of your place in the pack. If you show up to a group ride in a set of flat pedals, worn out cotton North Face shirt, and a Huffy bike…do not expect anyone to acknowledge you or even take your seriously. From the time you start on the bike, you work to become a better rider and understand a very complex sport. This requires lessons in things you already thought you knew, again and again.

Most new riders start in the spring and summer. These early months establish your skills but it is the winter months that define your dedication. Real cyclists ride no matter what the weather (usually). The most obvious obtrusion to winter riding is the dipping mercury. It slows the muscles down. Ten minute warm-ups turn into an hour, if at all. I believed, as most novice likely do, that this was another one of those aspects that I was suppose to “suck up” and “deal with.”

Rewind to mid-September and on the second morning of the inaugural century ride, I came across a rider sporting the most polished and shiniest legs known to man. They did not look “human” but more “ken-doll.” Most male cyclist shave their legs and honestly, you do get used to seeing it. You fight off jealousy if their legs are smoother than yours. However, this set of cycling sticks were not only hairless, they were darn near glossy. My sarcasm has been known to get the best me and I recently learned that not only did I inquire about the “shine” through the internal dialogue in my head but some of my thoughts spilled out of my filter-less mouth (sarcastic tone intact). I believe I asked, “what’s up with the shiny legs?”

Fast forward to the early throws of winter and while acknowledging that my small legs do not like the cold, I was asked about what kind of emboracation I was using. I like to pride myself on a vast and growing vocabulary but I still had to ask, “what’s embrocation” and I received the logical response, “embrocation is pro.” Lacking the full explanation, I had to inquire further.

The best way to describe embrocation is a lotion, lubricant, emollient that stimulates your muscles and skin….creating a warm sensation…the same as when you swirl a bunch of red hots in your mouth. However, this is worked into your legs, causing a near perfect reflective sheen (the explanation of the glossy, shiny ken doll “like” legs). I admit my skepticism…even after the creator of the jar I was purchasing took 30-minutes of his life to explain the advantages and the appropriate application process (also indicating that my jar was 93% vegan…not sure what the other 7% is). So, I sauntered home with a jar of brightly colored gunk to slather my legs up, carefully trying to remember all the specific details I had been given: (I should have taken notes)

Important details to remember:

1. Apply more than one coat

2. Let it completely dry

3. Apply an oil over it

4. Do not shower with a loofa after

5. Do not use the embrocation as lubricant for anything else (really? Did I HAVE to be told that?)

6. Avoid touching any other mucus membranes on your body

7. Enjoy it!

With both legs covered, dried, oiled and repeated, I went out for a brisk thirty-degree-ish ride. I was sold less than 10-miles in. Winter rides usually extend my warm-ups to 30 or 45 minutes…but thanks to my evergreen scented legs (yes, evergreen), I was warm quickly and consistently. The ride was smooth and I was able to concentrate on the things that matter versus fighting frostbite.

The after ride shower, which is always a welcome ritual, was disrupted by the fact that water “activates” the embrocation a little more. Like match sticks, I found my legs literally catching fire even without the use of the loofa (I can only imagine how bad it would be had I infused my body wash, loofa, and scrubbing action together). I could have roasted marshmallows with my knee caps or seared steaks with my thighs (of which the guy at the bike shop did not warn me about).

While I appreciate such an appropriate invention, more importantly, this is one of those little details that puts me further up the experience chain. It is similar to the day you cycle off your flat pedals or actually learn what a hub is. Honestly, I am pretty far from ever reaching pro but I like the chase. That’s what it is about anyway.*

*What’s next? Booties? Probaby not.