The First 24 Hours

Well, the first hour after I came out of surgery was spent emailing/talking to Dirk at Big Shark to get the new Ridley frame.

(He got it! Mostly because he is one of the super coolest cats on the planet and knows how nuts I am. Dirk just gets it.)

Within 20 minutes of walking through the door at the house, Jay arrived with Barry from Ballwin Cycles who had a pretty fantastic vase of wild flowers for me.

Ballwin Cycles.

Flowers.

All boys in that shop. Dirty, wild mountain bikers. Every one of them.

Who would have thunk it? I mean, they do have chocolate there, so I should have known they'd be sweet. Tee hee.

*big hugs to the guys at Ballwin Cycles*

Then Jessi arrived to pick up The Sass' car seat to pick her up from CCL.

I think Jess was a little wigged that I wasn't lying down.

I couldn't.

Whatever they did to me at the hospital had me peeing every time I stopped peeing.

This was tricky because I have two super hot and sexy drains that I have to deal with every time I use the restroom.

Truly, I should have just hooked the laptop up in the bathroom and called it a day.

On top of maneuvering around these tricky little tubes (while bandaged and bound from my stomach to the top of my chest), I also have to drain the little fuckers...and measure the blood to report it to the doctor.

(I cannot tell you what a fun and thrilling experience this is. I mean, if you are ever feeling that your life is lacking luster and adventure, see what you can do about arranging a day where surgeons slice you up and cut things out and then practice their sewing skills on your person.)

Good times!

The best is that they always tell you that you will be a little (WTF?!?!?!) "uncomfortable" for a few days.

Uncomfortable...?

Well...

I suppose that would be true...if I took the super cool pain killers they gave me. However, I have a pain pump for my stomach and that made parts of my legs numb and I really just didn't want any other side effects...and wanted to make sure I knew what was causing what.

I prefer the discomfort if it means I can talk and play with my kids and friends.

I don't know how I would handle having to have people waiting on me...

I have taken the muscle relaxers twice before bed, but they didn't seem to relax anything.

I have to sleep somewhat upright because the stitches pull on my stomach...

I attempted to lay flatish early this morning and that lasted about 46 seconds.

I cannot cough or blow my nose because it rips at my stitches and clearing my throat (which is still somewhat challenged from the tube) is not fun either.

Yesterday morning, I got on the trainer and rode for 30 easy minutes. Small ring. No sweating. I played Kings of Leon to keep me calm and slow.

(I may have mentioned this before, but I loathe the effing trainer...but it's still better than walking.)

Then I dug out every sundress I could find so that I could venture out with the kiddos to sit in the sun as yesterday was positively beautiful and I was getting in a funk watching the cyclists ride past my window.

This is where the day went downhill pretty fast.

I had to change my padding...which meant I had to see what they did to me.

I nearly lost it.

I know what they did was good...but the youngish woman in me did NOT embrace the Frankenstein which has become my body...even though the oldish woman in me was trying to be practical with comfortable sundresses to cover the drains and pain pump.

Trying to re-wrap and bind the mess was tricky.

I needed range of motion in my arms to pull the binding and hold it in place, yet I had none due to the stitches across my chest. What a fucking mess.

Once I had the wife beater (to cover the breast bandages) and the sundress on, I looked at the freakshow in the mirror and started to sob.

I know it's superficial. I know. Reality is what it is.

Thank goddess for Ty, who always knows how to make me feel better when I am sad over stupid things like this. (Some girl is going to be very lucky, because he has just enough brat to make him not "too nice". lol)

Jessi arrived just then, so she was lucky enough to see the meltdown too. It was pretty fantastic. Initially she assumed I was upset because my dress was an unflattering color of fuchsia. What can I say?

We went out to Kaldi's to have a yummy lunch in the warm sun, but I can only do liquids, so that didn't work out as well as I would have preferred, with exception to the conversation...which was pretty awesome.

Next, to the store and the odd looks from people trying to figure out if I was simply pregnant with some weird space baby or if I was "one of those people" who had decided that although I was born a women, now needed testicles.

(*Note: The term "one of those people" would be speaking from the minds of the closed minded majority in conformist Chesterfield and not my own personal opinion on the particular topic. Please also note that word "majority" was used, not "all".)

Walking around the Target looking for sundresses, wife beaters, and boy shorts to help hold in my bandages proved exhausting and more than I should have done physically on my first day...

Plus, I just sort of think Target on a Saturday without surgery is a bit exhausting, so there's that.

When I got home, I agreed to take a muscle relaxer, but not a pain killer and tried to rest.

My mind refused to shut down...until some time after 8, so I got a nap between Jessi leaving and Jay arriving, which Jay estimated to be about 30 mins since I had spoken to him before the nap as he was getting on the highway.

That's not a good nap.

Jay helped prepare pizza for the kids who had had a late lunch and then we all sort of veg'd.

That was pretty much it. It sorta sucked and sorta didn't.

Today, I will attempt a walk with Ty while Sassy goes to play with some friends doing bumper boats and miniature golf.

I have to admit, I'm a little envious.

Random Post-Op Thoughts

My bandages make me look like I have a f.u.p.a....and that pisses me off a little bit. (C'mon...I never pretended to not be a little vain.)

I am a little amazed and disgusted about where they put my drains. (Holy effing hell! Seriously?!?!?)

I hate Jell-O...but know it is currently my salvation.

Words cannot express how much love and admiration I feel for Jay, Dirk, Big Shark, Ballwin cycles for helping me find another Ridley frame. (This will make me cry for a while I think.)

I am still mad at the Audi store for not disclosing that the trailer component for this vehicle was delayed by Audi...even though they market the hell out of this vehicle's towing capacity and is part of the price of the car.

Yep...

Still pissed.

*takes slow and deep breath*

Moving on...

I hate the trainer but know that:

1. my dog would would wreck me if I tried my rollers.
2. I would likely wreck myself and fall off the rollers.
3. I would possibly not wreck on the rollers but would push too hard and set my progress WAY back.

I hate sleeping in a different room than Jay.

Solid foods are evil right now.

Compression socks are ugly, but I will do my best to make them cool and trendy.

*shakes head at the impossible task above*

Riding the trainer while watching the Dark Knight on mute, listening to Kings of Leon and Facebooking all at once is a very odd experience...yet somewhat distracting. (I'm not doing that now. I am torturing my back sitting halfway up with the laptop. Not as fun or easy as the phone.)

I'm a little jealous and impressed that my kids are still sleeping. (Little shits!)

I can't tell if I am smart or stupid for avoiding pain meds...except they make me sick and puking with lots of stitches and drains near one's hoo-ha is pretty fucking painful, yo!

I want to be with my friends in Sedalia and Otterville...with or without my bike...but I think we all know which way I would lean if given the option.

I'm still quite a bit annoyed that one of the doctors yesterday semi-bashed cyclists for riding our bikes on "her road" and let me know that she drives one of the giant SUVs that go zooming past us on Shepard Rd. (Douche bag.)

How can she be proud of that???

Didn't she take an oath to preserve life? WTF?

SOOOOOO happy she wasn't one of my surgeons because I would have "accidentally" kicked her in her coin slot with my bike-tattooed drive foot when I came out of it...

(This same doctor gave me an issue of People magazine and ranted and raved about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie even though I was clearly reading, "Roadie: The Misunderstood World of a Bike Racer". Interesting, no?)

I am still disturbed that the fact that I have a vajayjay caused this female doctor to assume that I would read People magazine or give a rat's ass about "adorable" Brad and Angie. I might expect that behavior out of a male doctor, but hello? Read Betty Friedan much?!?!

She additionally asked me why I decided against breast implants and wasn't I concerned about my confidence...?

Ummmm, as a matter of fact, no. I'm actually NOT concerned whether people find my breasts sexy or attractive. So glad you spent all that time in medical school to come out pretty stupid.

*throws snarky thumbs up*

I am pretty impressed with my surgeons who treated my like a human and demonstrated that they were on my team. Their attitude was exactly the calming one I needed before they sliced me open. They ROCK!

I also LOVE that they made me feel super confident and enthusiastic post-op with regard to the surgery.

Additionally, my anesthesiologist knocked me out so peacefully that I wasn't even aware she was doing it...and she did it differently than I have ever been put under. I think I LOVE her and wish I could have seen her post-op to tell her.

I was shocked and impressed with how beneficial it was for me to have worked out on the bike the week leading up to the surgery...even though I took it pretty easy.

I hate how little sleep I got last night, but grateful that Raycer decided to not howl at 4:30am and just let me sleep after Jay went to work. (Nice redemption from yesterday's morning nightmare...and the day before.)

I am disappointed in myself for being in a funk and beating myself up this morning regarding the surgery and the pain.

I am more disappointed that I bawled on the phone to Jay like a big giant baby.

Mostly, I am eternally grateful to all of my friends and loved ones and complete strangers who have sent me well wishes and love though all of this...

Extra love to Jay for going to Whole Paycheck and getting me food, Jessi for picking up The Sass, Ty and Sass for being the world's best kids and going shopping with Jessi for other things I needed, Steph who spent a good portion of her day at work trying to update everyone one my status (so please thank her too!), Cristel for all that she does and offers me every day, Dan for not being mad that I rode my trainer today, Ballwin Cycles for the very beautiful wild flowers, and to anyone I may have left out because yesterday was sort of a blur...

OK, that's about all I can manage sitting up. I gotta go. More later, which may be funny because I don't know how long I'll hold off without the meds.

Peace.

*Please excuse any typos in this blog. My eyes are starting to go a little buggy from a lack of sleep. I will do my best to edit typos later...after an attempt at a nap.*

Doctor Dipshit

While I love to receive constructive criticism, I generally am amused and annoyed buy low class fucktards who feel the need to make shitty comments for no reason.

I am more amazed when a comment comes from someone on my list of Facebook friends (yeah, fucker...I know).

I was "lucky" enough to receive last night some medical advice from someone with such strong medical credentials, they posted "anonymously" to my blog. Sadly, in the digital world, the term "anonymous" is misleading.

Anonymous to me: @7:18 PM (12 hours ago)
Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Wrappin' It Up...":
"would it kill you to get some chemo, oh no, wait, it would probably save your life"

So sweet, yes?

Hey douchebag, while I am sorry that your mother clearly did not breast feed you, I cannot personally offer you my tit as your personal therapy because cancer ate it first. (But I assure you, you need fucking therapy.)

And while I am tempted to take medical advice from some assclown who likely read Lance Armstrong's, "It's Not About the Bike" and therefore considers thyself an expert on cancer, I'm just gonna have to be a stupid bitch and follow the advice of the medical team which has kept me alive for the better part of this decade.

Derrrrrrr!

Not only are people like you assholes for being fucking callous to someone else when they clearly don't need that shit at the precise moment that they don't need it, but you reveal yourself as the uneducated ignoramus you clearly are.

Go read a fucking book, because you sure as shit didn't read my medical chart, mother fucker....and I bet I have been through more hours of chemo than you have spent in a library.

Even Lance isn't "pro-chemo".

He is an advocate for cancer treatment and the search for a cure.

He credits his medical staff for guiding him through the best treatment for HIM.

Guess what...?

Lance didn't have recurrent metastatic breast cancer, so maybe...just maybe...his treatment would likely be different than mine.

*shrugs*

I am surprised that you seemed to miss that Lance DID go under the knife. It's the reason he only has one nut.

Oh, and Doctor Dipshit, I actually do have medical evidence that chemo would likely kill me...It's the inoperable tumor in my brain caused by the lengthy chemo I underwent, so go fuck yourself.

(Poor Lance. Chances are you didn't even read his book but wear your cute yellow bracelet and simply watch ER to become the "expert" you so clearly are. Either way, you're an idiot.)

I'm sending you love, my dim-witted "friend". Someone has to.

Wrappin' It Up...

Friday.

This Friday.

Two surgeries.

They better effing get it right, because I am friggin' wiggin' at this point.

They feel that they can do both, get both, and get me back in the saddle pretty quickly.

I guess I am going to learn to love that damn trainer for a while. Dammit.

I am going to look like Frankenstein gone demented by the time they are done with me.

I'm glad Jay is almost blind without his glasses. I think I will "misplace" them for him at night.

The one surgeon seemed confused and disappointed that I didn't want him to add boobies after they are "done" slicing me open.

(I guess he hasn't read my blog and is therefore unfamiliar with how handy I can be with a water balloon.)

*snicker*

It will be a tricky week as I physically prepare (train) for the surgery, though the psychological part is fucking me.

What if they do not get it all (like the last time)?

What if I don't come out?

Will Ty be able to raise Jay on his own...? (Yeah, I actually do mean it in that order.)

More importantly, will Sassy be allowed to see her brother when (if) I'm gone...?

There isn't enough time in this one work week to say all that needs to be said...just in case.

Who will make sure that the correct bikes are next to me?

Will someone mistakenly play Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings" instead of Nine Inch Nails or Kings of Leon at my funeral...?

*makes note to make sure someone plays "Only" as my casket is rolled and "Sex on Fire" as Trent (Madone) and Jules (Ridley) are rolled*

Of course this is just one outcome...

The other (more desirable) outcome would be for me to wake up completely baked and constipated with an itchy nose, go home, take a short walk the next day and be back in the saddle a few days after that...

I've already been contemplating the different ways I could bandage my incisions while slathering them in something that will keep them from pulling (but also not make me look fat) so that I can peel on my skin suit and race my first psychocross race of the season on September 12th...

I thought about this all weekend long while in DC at the 'cross clinic...

I worked on remounting as if I had stitches across my stomach...

The stitches across the breast will be trickier...

...so will carrying the bike over the barriers...

...so will picking my littlest up every morning, as is our morning routine...

*sigh*

None of this is the end of the world...well...at least as long as nothing goes wrong, but these are the things on my mind at the moment...

Who didn't I close things out with...besides Saks?

My mom. (I think I will simply close this door.)

My ex-husband. *yawn*

James Hamble (who once rescued me from getting my ass kicked on a Friday night in the 6th grade and restored my faith in my peers' ability to be decent. I still haven't found him to tell him "Thanks!")

Do I have any regrets? (Nope.)

Should I regret things and am somehow emotionally dysfunctional for having an obvious lack of regrets?

Should I regret having no regrets?

*raises eyebrow in look of mock pondering*

OK...

...here it is...

I do not regret but do sometimes wish that I was a stay at home mom who could ride her bike many hours a day and that I had started such a life at like 23...

I wouldn't be a fat, lazy, clothing-with-animals-wearing stay at home mom who lived vicariously through my children's successes, but I would be super badass on the bike and totally fucking chill from living a life of constant bike-gasms and synergy (JEEEEEEZE! I hate that fucking word!) with my uber-hot, but voiceless, gas-less, magically tongued, cyclist/racer husband, our beautiful children Ty and Sass, and our perfectly trained, poopless dog...

...wait...

That was clearly a fantasy and not a non-regret...

Derrrrr!

Anywho...

This blog was pretty much a heads up of sorts that you can either expect a lot more blogs which may or may not be influenced by my post-op pain pump...

*two enthusiastic thumbs up!*

...or like zero blogs after this week in the event that the surgeons weren't really all that handy with their tools...

*Frowny pout face*

Either way, it's been a pretty cool life I've lived...

...even with a mom who slit her wrists and made penis-shaped chocolate lollipops just for "fun"...

I've met some really cool people and made some pretty spectacular friends...

So, whether you were awesome or super sucky to me, I want to thank you for helping paint my life canvas.

...and if you actually liked me, maybe cross your fingers for me on Friday morning...

Peace.

The Way It Is

Surgery consultation tomorrow morning.

I'd rather ride my bike.

I'd rather sleep...for a long time...in pitched blackness.

I'd rather sip ice cold raspberry lemon drop martinis in the sun while I listen to The Sass run around the backyard giggling with Raycer.

The end.

The Abyss of Nothingness and Everythingness

I'm fucking tired.

I am.

I am not unique in this.

I have nothing and everything, depending on the day and of who's perspective.

I am alone and supported.

Loved and loathed.

Some days the latter pleases me and gives me a rest from needing to be everything or anything to anyone.

Most days, I just don't give a shit what anyone thinks other than me and my kids, because no matter how close you are to people, there are only so many people directly affected by your choices. My kids are those people.

Some people wonder "what Jesus would do" or what The Joneses think...

I wonder if my kids will be proud of me...

If a decision I am about to make will hurt or hinder their life experience...

I don't care what Jay or my friends think, because they are supposed to love me regardless, so long as I stay on the correct side of moral decency and principles...and I must do the same in return.

I've made some tricky decisions over the past year that have kept in line, but have made me walk the line between quality v. quantity of life.

While this topic is always a rich one, I have always been on the side of quality.

Most people have supported this and others are too confused or scared or selfish to consider such support.

In November of last year, at the start of cyclocross season, a tumor posed a problem. It was advised that I undergo surgery to remove it.

I told them to find another option.

They told me that all they could do was better prepare my body for surgery.

They destroyed me.

By the end of November, I could barely make it through a cyclocross race and couldn't ride my bike except on race days.

They told me they could "make me comfortable"...

Jay and I packed my things that Tuesday before Thanksgiving and planned one last bike ride before he drove me to the hospital...

As we took to the road in the dark, my mind went a little mad...and free.

The pain ripped through my insides as I made each revolution of the pedals and I felt myself burning as if my body was a paper cut doused in lemon juice...

Yet as the cold air hit my face, I realized that the pain meant I was alive...

I was not numb or "comfortable"...

I knew who I was and who this man riding next to me was...

I didn't want to stop this.

I remember the cold night air and every detail because at the time I was mentally recording it in the event that I did not see such a night again...

When we got back to Jay's house, we talked, cried and thought hard about my options...

We went home and talked to the kids.

I wasn't ready to be "comfortable".

We worked my plan as the pounds fell off.

16 pounds in 2 weeks.

Where was I going?

They were killing me.

I showed up at 'cross races every Sunday and died a little bit, but lived a little more...

Some races I didn't have the energy to even lift my bike over the barriers.

At Cross Nationals, my body simply fell apart.

"They" almost carried me off the course until I gathered what remaining composure I had and crawled under the tape to safety...

My world started to shut down.

My body was now too weak for surgery.

Fast forward to a year of trying to get a taste of racing...

A year of trying to make my body stronger.

A year of living life to the fullest with the kids and trying to cover every base...

I am now faced with the very real reality of interviewing surgeons and making plans for what I had hoped I could always put off...

Placing myself in a temporary state of denial while I prepared for my favorite race season, while in hindsight wishing I had sacrificed the road season with surgery so that I could be there for every single 'cross race in The Lou and surrounding areas...

As it is, I will be going under the knife in the far too near future, to remove the tumor in my stomach.

While I plan to schedule the surgery on a weekend when I have "nothing going on", my doctors have reminded me that while that is so sweet of me to squeeze them in, I will not be in the saddle the following weekend...though they readily admit that they know I will try every imaginable way to attempt it.

As my birthday weekend wound to a close today, it was with heaviness that I had to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for certain hell that is about to become my life....at least for a few weeks.

Tomorrow I will begin preparing my body for battle.

My bike rides will be very different.

My sleep will be very different.

My food will be a joke.

*sound of life, blog, thoughts screeching to a halt; in the distance, something clicks/snaps*

You know what?

I started writing this to update friends and family and I really don't know how to do that.

Typically I tell people what is going on after it's done.

I don't know what to say here.

I'm so fucking lost and confused and scared and in pain that it's all a fucking mess.

I just want them to cut the bitches out of me and let me get on with my fucking life.

I don't want to just be a survivor. I want to be cancer-free.

I want that for everyone.

I want that guy that I saw in Chicago without shoes but with mangled and gnarly toes to have good feet and good shoes...and a bath and toothpaste and a straight spine...and I want to be cancer fucking free.

(Jeeze that was random!)

I don't want anymore fucking stitches.

I don't want to hear the drone of anymore pathology reports.

I don't want a fucking repeat of 1999 when they apologized but informed me that they didn't get it all and I would have to do "a little chemo".

You know what?

There is no such fucking thing as a little chemo.

My organs are still suffering the damage from the shit they injected into me to fuck my world.

I had everything I needed before that...then lost it all.

I built it back up and had it all again...only better...and they did that shit to me again and I lost it all again.

*rinse and repeat*

I am not fucking willing, nor do I believe I have the strength, to lose everything and build it back up again.

I am old for my age and fucking tired.

I want zero stitches, many cow bells and endless hot chocolates with Baileys after I kick someone's (anyone's) ass in every 'cross race I enter.

Besides, it's going to really piss off X-Factor if I bought that Ridley and can't race it for some candy-assed reason like stitches, cancer, blah, blah, blah...

...and I'm sort of on his side for this one.

Selling Caleb

Love this bike. So pretty. Realized I like to look at it more than ride it. I was overly optimistic with regard to my energy and strength at the beginning of the year and bought this bike in the hopes of doing a few Time Trials... In reality, I rode it 3 times, including 2 TTs where this bike alone made me finish ahead of some stronger cyclists. (I would like to pretend that I am just that wicked strong, but I assure you it was the bike.)

He's just so pretty...But Ty has decided he wants to give psychocross a whirl, sooooo since I need to get another cx bike, the TT bike must go.

MSRP: $1,999.00

My price: $1,300.00

Here are the deets:

Cervélo P2 SL Dura Ace: 51 cm Full aero TT/Tri frame and seatpost - Building on ten years of experience, this member of the P2 family offers pro-level performance at an affordable price. The downtube, seattube and seatpost all feature Cervélo's proprietary TrueAero aerodynamic shapes. Rearwheel cutout - The seattube features a tight-fitting rearwheel cutout to further improve the aeordynamics. The frame has horizontal dropouts with set-screws to allow the rider to adjust the cutout gap depending on the size of tire used, and ensures that the airflow from the seattube to the rearwheel is as smooth as possible for tire sizes from 19-25mm. Description: Full aero TT/Tri frame and seatpost - Building on ten years of experience, this member of the P2 family offers pro-level performance at an affordable price. The downtube, seattube and seatpost all feature Cervélo's proprietary TrueAero aerodynamic shapes. Rearwheel cutout - The seattube features a tight-fitting rearwheel cutout to further improve the aeordynamics. The frame has horizontal dropouts with set-screws to allow the rider to adjust the cutout gap depending on the size of tire used, and ensures that the airflow from the seattube to the rearwheel is as smooth as possible for tire sizes from 19-25mm. Parts - Dura Ace TT/Tri kit Fork - Wolf TT Seatpost - Cervélo aero Aluminum - 2-position Shift Levers Shimano DuraAce Bar-ends Front Derailleur - Shimano Dura Ace Rear Derailleur - Shimano Dura Ace Cassette - Shimano Ultegra 12-25 Chain - Shimano Ultegra Brake Calipers - Cervélo Mach 2 Brake Levers - Dia Compe 188 Crankset - FSA Gossamer MegaExo Bottom Bracket - FSA Gossamer MegaExo Headset - FSA Orbit IS 1 1/8 Stem - Visiontech Sizemore Basebars - Cervélo flat bar Aerobars - Profile T2 Saddle - Profile TriStryke Wheels - Shimano R-500 Aero Tires - Vittoria Diamante Pro Lite

*Pedals, computer, and wheels in photo 2 (above) are NOT included. Priced as built and stated above.

Email me at: buycaleb@yahoo.com

The Blur Hits the Wall; Screeches to Halt

I spent a LOT of time writing a long ass blog about the Dirt Crit B race a couple weeks ago, my bruised ribs, and Queen City Crits...

Then realized that:

(a) I had forgotten to write about Tour de Soulard (my most favoritest race to date! Holy hell I LOVE that course! Additionally, it was my BEST race, so that likely played into my loving it.)

(b) I am so burnt out on the whole crit racing thing with all that is going on in my world that the race re-caps read as if they were being spoken by Ben Stein...

(Bueller....Bueller...Bueller...)

*yawn*

(c) I am so mentally gone from road and onto psychocross that any races after July 23rd (the day I picked up the Ridley 'cross bike) were merely a formality...

Sooooo...

A brief catch up...

Soulard effing ROCKED!

I owe a HUGE thanks to a certain fellow racer who threw me a helpful smackdown the night before in the hopes of helping me. He did. I listened. I felt a HUGE weight lift off my training/racing shoulders and literally went out to have fun at Soulard the next morning...actually looked forward to racing that day.

The lack of stress kept me focused during my race and I was able to not only perform better than I have in any crit, but attack and assist...and not die.

I was more than alive enough at the end to pull off an excited sprint instead of rolling across the Finish like a beaten dog.

I think this was the first race where Jay was actually proud of me.

I owe him big hugs for my cornering skills.

(Some girls need jewelery and flowers...This girl has a man who understands her need for handling skills and "gear".)

Screw diamonds! I'll take hand-sewn cx tires for my 404s any damn day!

(Love him!)

Next up, the B race at the Dirt Crits...

It was Ty's birthday and he was ready to race his new Fisher.

A LOT happened in that race.

It rained right before we raced. (Naturally.)

Though I had just picked up the Ridley, I raced on the C'dale and this race convinced me that I will likely not sell Christian (C'dale)...

I crashed twice.

It was a blur for the most part, but Mark Grumpke's take on it was:

"You had a great ride going on the CX bike in the B race until your get off in the field. Hope you are OK. It was a pretty impressive front wheel ride you had for about 15 yards before you launched over the bars. About 9.5 out of 10!"

(Hilarious, yes?)

I got up and chased him down right after that and wiped out 60 seconds later and hydroplaned on a wet left...making a nice slice in my left ass cheek.

It was pretty fantastic...and also witnessed by a VeloForce racer with a flat.

I am pretty sure if I ever lose my job for writing blogs when I should be drafting contracts, I can get a job as a crash test dummy.

*smirk*

Anyway...

I bruised some ribs; could not take pain meds, but got some super groovy muscle relaxers...

We went down to Springfield for the Queen City Crits.

On day 1, I got 2nd.

On day 2 I was spectacularly stoned from the ONE (1) muscle relaxer I took post-race the night prior and was still drooling on myself when it was time to wake up to race.

I slept.

On Thursday I raced the B race in the dirt crits...on the Ridley.

(1) It was super light to carry across the creek.

(2) I need a different saddle. (OUCH!)

(3) If this bike was human, I'd marry it.

Had a blast; did not wreck...but DID lose my sweet ass carbon bottle cage...which then got run over in the race.

Booooo!

(Mad props to Big Shark for replacing it! Big Shark RAWKS!)

I was really sad to see the Dirt Crits come to an end.

This is the one race series that Ty and I do together and next year he might be leaving for college...or just escaping his mom...

*sigh sniffle pout*

...Mmmmmkay, so then it was on to State Crit Championships in Jeff City on Sunday.

This race should have been titled "The Hub Badasses v. Cory".

Kate is one strong, attackin' bad ass.

Jeeze!

Needless to say, they wore me out.

I came in 4th...but...

Steph came in FIRST!

(WOOO HOOOO!!)

I of course got all mooshie with pride and happiness for my friend...

Though it would have been the same if Alice or Kate had won...

...and if by some bizarre occurrence all three of them had gotten severe menstrual cramps and dropped their chains, while at the same time some baby bunnies hopped only in front of them, and I had actually won, I'm fairly certain I would have had a heart attack and dropped dead on the spot.

...as it was, I happily took 4th and called it a day.

I felt the weight lift off my shoulders as I settled into the comfort of knowing my road season was over and relaxed in the sun for the first time all Summer.

I got my barrier and flags out on Monday and hopped on the Ridley at C'wood and introduced my ass to the ground again...

As I rubbed my ass/hip and looked at the blood on my knee I realized that all was pretty much right in my little world.