Back in the Saddle...Sort Of

Dan has done it.

He has lit my fire.

There is nothing like getting the "green light" from your coach to actually train to put a little extra spring in your step and smile on your face.

(Thank you Sweet and magical Universe for making my body finally stop bleeding!)

While I am sure it gave him little pleasure to know that I had been training a bit and doing intervals (and running a race), I feel confident that he may have had the tiniest of smiles accompanied with an amused shake of his head.

I had known that he would not be on board if I was going to do damage to my body, so this was a good day!

We discussed my 2010 plan and we are both on the same page in understanding that my head goes psychocross come July 1st and everything until psychocross season is the "off season".

(It is spectacularly comforting when you have a coach who gets it!)

We discussed my silly little non-hobby of running and how that shit is just nonsense, and like junk food, it should be done infrequently, if ever.

(It's still better than Cheetos, but I know what he means.)

Since I like my feet and my knees, I will likely follow his advice on this, though a certain teammate is attempting to tempt me into one more running race for good measure...

*wink*

Dan and I discussed that I will only be racing two road races (Froze Toes and The Tour of Hermann RR) because I still need to rehab my body in 2010 and it cannot take the beating of road races yet.

(Dr. Tim is working frantically to get my pulse and body stronger, but the man is only human, no matter how brilliant.)

Because Dan never blows sunshine up my arse, he let me know how Froze Toes was going to work out for me...and we had a pretty good laugh about that.

After a full week of being back on the training horse, I am feeling pretty darn good...but frustrated about being so far behind the training ball.

I am still draining fluid from the site (but not blood) and this means that I still cannot sit in a hot tub or bath after a workout, so I am now an Icy Hot and compression socks/tights junkie.

I smell like my great-grandma and am grateful that the compression socks are not flesh-toned or I would look like her too.

Jay is diggin' it (at least in my mind) and really, the boy can't say shit.  He has not shaved his legs since December, sooooo there's that.

Kisses, peace, love, and bikes to all...

W-w-w-w-w-welcome...errrr...Again!

Whatever you think that you thought that you knew...especially about me...was a bit off.
The gloves are off.

I was forced to move my blog because certain people suck.
I can deal.
I can tear down, move and rebuild quicker than anyone on the effing planet.
Believe.
For you bitches who don't like that people know me even though I am rarely on the podium, suck it.
Learn to be nicer.
Work harder.
Recover better...and with more flare.
Develop a smile.
Get great legs.
Always have a kind and encouraging word handy.
(Psssst...maybe that's how I "caught on", because we all know my supermodel days are behind me.)
*snicker*
For the assclown who thought it would be "funny" to email my blog to my boss either in the hopes that I would get in trouble or that he would go ape shit over the photos of Jay and I...Nice work.
Ummmm...my blog didn't violate company policy, but now the man is obsessing over the details and stressing me out.
You're a dick. (Even if you are a female.)
When that man wanted to reduce everyone's salary, it was me who fought for your asses.
Good luck with that in the future. Next time, this ol' liberal is going to look out for herself. How about that?
Weak. You people are fucking weak.
You may not want to hear that shit, but someone has to say it.
Ask yourself when I have ever patted myself on the back for anything more than surviving another day on this planet...
I haven't.
I don't measure myself by my paycheck or times on the podium.
I measure myself by how many times I can smile while I suffer and push through.
I may never win a bike race...
...but I assure you that for quite a few of you, including some podium regulars, I kicked your ass in spirit and humanity alone plenty of days...and I am not done yet.
I don't give a shit if you like me or loathe me, but you better be fucking nice to me, because I am to you and you know it.
If you loathe me, you better ask yourself if it's because of something I did to you...or something that I did that you can't or something I am that you are not...
(I think the word you are searching for is "real"...)
For those who have stayed loyal and followed the blog here to its new home, thank you.
I have received tremendous support in the community and I feel very grateful for that.
I am sending out my love to all those who have cheered me as I have suffered and sucked and pushed through.
You have no idea how much strength your shouts gave me.
I am sending more love out to those who have given me tissues for my vomit, held my hair back, or carried me off a race course.
I have finally stopped bleeding from this last surgery and am back on the training horse. (More deets on that in future blogs.)
I am very lucky to be able to race another season in St. Louis and proud to once again be part of Fulcrum Coaching.
At this time, I wish to thank my coach, Dan, my teammate and partner Jay for their continued belief in the fact that I will get stronger. I will beat it all.
I also wish to thank my super fantabulous friends for all that they do. You know who you are. You are always there to ask, cook, listen, accept...
Love and peace to all.
Love, peace, and balance to the haters.


(PS: I am sure when I have more time, I will get the formatting the way I like it.  My apologies for now.)

The Bittersweet Podium

At the last minute I had two race options for that Saturday.

Race in Columbia (MO) and see some friends, or race in IL and support a series I was super happy to have seen added to this year's 'cross schedule?

Circumstances had kept me from racing the previous 3 races in the latter series and this weekend would be the Finale.

I pondered and weighed my options for a while and finally decided that I really wanted to:

1. support all the hard work that Pride, Inc. had put into organizing this new series so that they did it again next year and maybe add even MORE races to the series; and


2. actually go for a podium instead of a mere finish.

(The latter was a fairly aggressive decision on my part and it might make you laugh when you find that I later actually stepped that goal up a bit as well...)

I had never entered any race aiming for the podium.

On that Friday, I joked with Tina and Judy that I was actually going to go for the win.

I could hear Jay blink over the phone when I told him.

I could feel him pat me on the head through the line like an adorable puppy.

I couldn't blame him really.

He hasn't exactly witnessed me being aggressive in a race but a handful of times.

Regardless, I had made up my mind.

(Wish I did this more often before races instead of the mind-fuckage I normally tango with...and I bet Dan will agree with this.)

Saturday dawned beautiful, sunny, and hot...for November.

The Sass and I drove out to the race singing loudly while lady bugs (or stink beetles) danced around the velowagon.

I can't lie, I don't know if they are lady bugs or stink beetles, but I detest those little fuckers. They bite and they were EVERYWHERE that week!

We pulled up to the park and the course was fantastically beautiful.

It was a magical place, this Glen Moore Park.

I threw on my skinsuit and registered.

I had a lady bug/stink beetle in my kit.

OUCH! WTF?!?!

We lined up to start and all was light and jovial.

The whistle blew and pretty much just like that, Stephanie dropped me like a bad habit.

Mentally I thought, "Dammit you *bleep bleepin' bleep bleep*!"

Outwardly, I groaned and had to hammer to chase...and make sure I held 2nd.

By the time we got to the steep hill, I was mentally ready to close the gap a bit, but when I dove into the descent and then started the climb, my IT band reached up and sucker-punched me right in the face and reminded me that I had run a few days earlier and how stupid that crazy-assed behavior is for a non-runner during cross season.

I could hear Jay screaming and my eyes got wide as saucers as I was suddenly unable to climb and had to run it.

FUTHER MUCKER!!!!!

This pissed me off.

Mentally, I had to battle my own stupidity and throw it away.

I came for a podium.

I am getting a dog damned podium.

Today.

This day.

And not just by a little.

I wanted a big fucking gap if I was going to take 2nd.

I did not want a close sprint with #3.

Screw that noise.

It was hot and it was a course that was tailored to a climber.

I was, for the most part, in my element.

With exception to what had become a run-up, I was pretty darn happy.

(Did I mention that there was a barrier at the top of that hill?)

Those are always super fun and not a place to bring small children whom you do not want to pick up $5.00 vocabulary words.

During one lap, I dropped my chain when I put down (read "dropped") my bike after a carry.

This wigged me because I knew that Nicole was now in 3rd and she is a runner.

Generally I will take her on the barriers, but not on this course.

All I had was my climbing and turning.

Gina calmed me down as I took off and hauled ass.

Matt D. told me which line to take in the back turn and I mentally got back on my game.

It was hot.

I was monitoring my water closely and without lap cards, I could not tell how far we had to go.

While racing, I yelled to Jay several times to see if he could find out so that I could pace correctly.

With 3 laps to go, I told Gina to tell Jay that I would need water as soon as finished the race.

I had 4 sips left and needed 6.

I had to quickly calculate my final recovery spots as I felt/watched the dehydration goosebumps cover my skin.

With 2 to go I got dizzy as I crossed the Finish and the course went blurry.

I had to shake it off and take the tiniest of sips.

Gina continued to cheer me on at the hell hill barrier.

(She rocks!)

...and had she been in this race, I would have taken 3rd...happily.

I was focused and could tell that I had widened the gap between Nicole and myself.

Something snapped in me.

The last lap was very different for me.

I could actually taste the competitiveness on my tongue.

It was a new taste.

It was not passive or bland.

It was sort of spicy and sweet all at once.

Like a cayenne infused dark chocolate truffle.

It was yummy and rich and I wanted to lick every last bit off my fingers slowly and chase it with a robust red wine...

Gina knew it was different when I made that last climb.

She could see it.

I was home.

I crossed the Finish and just to make sure, I actually made them say I was done before I would stop pedaling.

My head dropped and a small smile slowly crept across my quivering lips.

I rode over to my car and grabbed water immediately while The Sass jumped up and down about the magical stick bug she had found on the tree.

My body was not ready for the cold water and reacted less than gracefully.

I kept from puking and passing out.

(DOUBLE SCORE!!!)

I was high and sick and excited and sweaty (and I'm pretty sure stinky)...

...and I wanted to scream and dance and scream some more.

I mentally jumped up and down like an ADHD kid who just slammed a crack and Mountain Dew ice cream float...

(Red Bull ain't got shit on my energy at that exact moment!)

I hugged The Sass and Jay and grabbed my phone to text a few choice supporters (and/or anyone who might be shocked by the news) and was flying high...

Then it was time to focus on Jay's race.

It was a blast.

He got 2nd too and it was a pretty good day for Fulcrum Coaching.

As Jay was cooling off after his race, The Sass and I loaded the velowagon and waited to leave.

Just then, Tina (whom I had texted to tell her that I did in fact get the podium I had promised her the day before) called me.

I assumed she was calling to give me some playful ribbing about not winning.

I answered in my "I'm-so-happy-you-called-can-you-believe-this-shit?!?!" voice and she did not sound good at all.

"What's wrong, Sweetie? You don't sound well," I said to her.

"Cor, it's Kyle..."

I held my breath.

I felt my throat tighten and my eyes began to burn.

Her throat was raw with pain and devastation.

I could feel her green eyes burning red and swollen through the phone.

She didn't have the words out of her mouth before I knew.

I knew the sentence that was coming.

I tried to shut it out.

I tried to shut down time.

I tried to disappear inside of myself.

I looked in the rear view mirror at The Sass with her headphones on and knew I had to stay.

I had to hear it.

I looked past The Sass as Pride, Inc. tore down the recently beautiful 'cross course.

I watched the day vanish.

"...He didn't make it, Cor..."

I heard myself scream inwardly.

I felt the hot mess of salty pain running fast down my once happy face.

The day rolled backwards fast in my mind and I was standing on my desk and goofing off with her the day before.

Both of us happy and excited about the weekend ahead.

I knew I had to hold onto that image.

It will be a while before I will see my friend's eyes dance again...

I looked at my beautiful trophy and suddenly it all seemed so silly.

The next day, I raced Bubba for Kyle.

My only intent was to finish.

As I started day 2 of the November heat-wave cross weekend, I was emotionally drained.

I had cried all the tears I could.

I had relived all the pain tucked away long ago.

With 6 laps to go, I was done.

I was hot. I was tired. I wanted out.

Dammit.

I had said that I was racing for Kyle this day.

Kyle didn't get to finish.

He didn't choose.

If given the choice again, I'd put money on the fact that he would not DNF on his life.

What a slap it would be to quit right now.

Tears.

Tight throat.

Heat.

Panic.

I pulled it together.

I shut my mind down.

I somehow pulled it off and held my pace...and finished that race...

It hurt.

I was emotionally dead.

When it was over, I tucked it away.

Safe, where it could not hurt me for a few hours so that I could breathe.

I cannot bring myself to take his name off my bar tape.

I guess I will have to finish every race now.

It seems rather stupid and lame not to.

Thank you, Kyle. I am happy to share my first 'cross podium and every 'cross race with you, sweet boy.

In this small way, you will live.

You will finish.

Night of the Puking Bubba

The Bubba psychocross series started this past weekend.

(YES!)

Some kids wait all year for Santa...this kid waits all year for Bubba.

Everything I did on the bike all year was just to stay/get in shape for Bubba.

Bubba is like my Buddha, so regardless of having the flu on top of my other crap (a few thousand adorable stitches and no effing core to speak of) for the past 2 weeks...and regardless of the fact that I have been mostly off the bike for 2 weeks...

I signed right the hell up for Bubba #1...a psychocross race at night.

I didn't even blink.

That being said, at the Start, I was sort of out of sorts.

I was cold.

I was coughing.

My nose was stuffed.

Still.

This would be "fun".

I raced a few laps.

There was a LOT of running in this race.

OK, just so you know, I am not a runner.

I'm pretty much against running unless I am being chased by a madman with a knife or Freddy Krueger...

As I have been chased by neither, I see no reason for me to run.

Ever.

This race had the most running I have done in a good 25+ years....combined.

It made my boobies hurt.

*NOTE: I do not have big or actual boobies so if they jiggle when I sneeze, it's generally considered a "good day".

This was painful.

So the third time up that hill after the run-up/descent, I damn near collapsed and started puking water/Hammer.

Jay appeared out of no where!

Kube sang, "Wind Beneath My Wings" at me while I cried and puked and Jay said really nice things to make me breathe...

Once I saw Kube, I knew that "That One Girl" was coming...

I got mad that "That One Girl" was about to pass me and once she did, I'm pretty sure I growled, though you'd have to ask Jay.

I know I cried harder and said, "She. Is. Not. Beating. Me."

...and then took off and attacked...

...and picked her off...

...and then some other girl...

...and then caught up to where I wanted to be...with Kube.

I raced another lap after that and it was almost "lights out" for ol' Cory.

The world spun.

I dropped to my knees and puked some more.

I scared the crap out of some dude with a cowbell and he tried to help as I grabbed the Earth and lost my water and Hammer gel while looking very specifically "not pretty".

I got a Kleenex hand-up from a sweet older lady and then Jay came and led me away.

I sobbed like a baby.

I knew that he wanted to take it away for me...and not just because boys hate seeing girls cry.

I'm so effing tired of being sick that I want to smack someone...and I'm not sure if it matters whom.

Someone paLEEEEEZE hand me a politician...or L.A....

I got up the next morning in the biggest funk I have seen in some time and wasn't sure if I was going to race or just lay in bed all day and cry.

(Holy shit!)

Thank dog Allison texted me that she was racing that day and asked if I had a spare GU.

I didn't, but told her I had some extra Hammer.

...and that is how I talked myself into at least going to the race.

I cried the whole way there.

Not sobs, but tears.

I took some baby steps.

Jay checked out registration and called me to tell me the line was short.

I got dressed.

I registered.

I pre-rode the course with Jay telling me my race strategy.

I started to relax.

I started the race.

I didn't go out as hot as usually do.

I was sort of in a Theraflu stupor and just grabbed a wheel.

It's all I had for a few moments until we went through what would eventually be the finish and I started to climb.

I started remembering my skills.

I got my head together on the pavement and remembered all that Jay had said when we pre-rode.

He didn't run the course this day, so I had to remember everything he said.

(Dude! That boy can talk! He says a LOT of stuff!)

Days like this made it difficult to ride AND remember...

Jeeeeeeeze.

I held it together.

I held my pace.

For whatever reason, on this day, I was brain dead at the barriers.

I even did something on one lap that cannot be easily described.

I almost slapped myself for doing it and I know I started chastising myself out loud...

(Are you fast-forwarding in your head to like 30 years from now when I am pushing a shopping cart and talking to my 27 imaginary cats too?)

With 3 laps to go, something snapped...in a good way.

I started picking up the pace a little bit and screwing with boys on the climbs.

(I don't know why this is fun to me, but one boy in particular did NOT like it one little bit.)

I mean, it's not like I would ride by and kick them or slap their asses...I would just climb past them.

The one boy made a point of immediately bombing down past me on a descent whilst making a snarky comment.

(Ya didn't really think the course through in your head before you did that, did ya, wise ass? I'd like to stay and chat, but we have this climb and this is where I have to drop ya. My baaaaaaaad...)

*rolling eyes*

It was only the second time in all my 'cross races that a guy has been a dick to me, but the first time was a body-check at Spanish Lake last year and that actually pissed me off...and hurt. This was just silly/funny.

Anyhoo...

I sort of have to thank the tool.

I started to get that playful spirit back in me and actually began having fun.

I blew kisses to my "fans" and actually smiled the last 2 times through the barriers.

I finished between Gina and Kate and that's pretty much a perfect race day for me since they are both actually badass and kick my ass regularly on the road.

As we lay in bed last night, Jay told me how fun it was to watch me actually race again.

I knew what he meant.

...and he looked actually proud of and happy for me.

...and it was the latter that made me smile.

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.

Dear X-Factor

In an attempt to help you with your marketing, I am giving you some much "deserved" attention today. I want to help. I'm a helper. It's what I do.

OK, that's not it at all. Truth is, I had so much fun writing my response to you that I wanted to make sure both you and I got the attention you so rightly deserve.

The below are the comments from yesterday's blog, "My Wealth and Speed".

xfactor said...
I'm surprised to see you post such a lengthy response defending your 'richness' against some 5-word comment. Why stoop to that level; as they say... I mean, why even give it a second thought. *smirk*Oh, and where were you in the 'B'Race?!?!
July 8, 2009 12:34 PM

cory redmond said...
I have nothing TO defend. I'm not financially wealthy and work in the construction industry.This wasn't so much a response as it was a pondering on my part as to why someone would be so angry toward me when they don't know me. Frankly, I don't give a shit if some socially dysfunctional fucktard doesn't like me. It's probably better for me. Lol With regard to the B race, I was exactly where I said I would be and pretty pleased about yesterday. I did what Jay and my coach wanted me to do...especially considering my Monday wreck and current race-heavy schedule. Why do you ask?
July 8, 2009 1:23 PM

xfactor said...
hah, race heavy schedule. you have to finish the races for that to count...or do more than a handful of laps. the problem this brosky has with your bike is that you are a cat 4 woman, and you're riding a better cross frame than much more deserving riders. its a cross bike...pros dont even ride carbon.
July 8, 2009 10:56 PM

[presses button to let the fun begin]

First, let me thank you for your comments, X-Factor. While I may not agree with you, readers like you only prove why bike shops like me riding their bikes. Love me or hate me, people always know what I'm riding...and people like yourself have clearly taken extra care to make certain you can "accurately" report every component and fiber on each of my bikes. I'm not kidding.

If you actually read my blogs, you would know that I have never patted myself on the back for being a racer and actually pretty recently wrote in a blog that pokes fun of the fact that I am most often simply a marketing piece for a bike or team.

There's a reason why, regardless of my obvious racing suckage, people notice me. I promote products and companies in a positive and excited way. I am friendly to people and always have a smile...especially when talking bikes or talking to someone new to cycling. I get people in the saddle and often, into the bike shop.

How many other last place racers can you name? Can you tell me who they race for or which bike they ride? I doubt it.

Mike Weiss jokes that I must have a secret PR department. I don’t. However, I am a fantastic team player. I am always seen cheering my friends in their races (and mine), regardless of my racing status on that day. Also, I just really like bicycles and when Mike Weiss, Jay Thomas, or Russ and Adrienne sell me a bike, wheels or upgrades, they know that my ass will be in that saddle. Rolling marketing...free of charge. Don’t think we don’t all know that there is a bit of the, "Hey! She sucks and has a badass bike! If SHE can do it, I can do it!” mentality going on. There is. You’ve proved it. You want my bike. Our plan worked...and always will.

Believe me, I do understand your frustration about "deserving" and fairness. And I'm not sure if it's your refreshing and youthful naivety or your beaten down bitterness which intrigues me the most about you, but I get it. I get your frustration.

Currently I have an image in my head of you as a 6 year old boy throwing a blue streaked fit when his mom buys him a GI Joe when all the cool kids had Transformers. I imagine that temper tantrum didn't work then and it probably won't work out too well for you later in life either.

Look, I am never going to be a great racer. So what? Me getting or not getting this cx bike is not going to make you a better racer, so it really shouldn't matter to you.

I don't owe you or anyone an explanation about this bike, but I do find your comments rather amusing. You clearly have this bike, and the business of racing in general, confused a bit.

1. This is not Ridley’s top of the line bike. It is mid-level. It is way under $3K, so not a bank breaker, at all. It's a teaser, if you will.

2. If there is a Pro who cannot afford my bike, they must not be a very good Pro or not have a very good deal, since soooooo many pro deals come with bikes. (Dude, my boyfriend isn't a Pro and he has a bike deal!) Why? They want people riding their bikes...in lots of races. People who love racing and will promote the sport and the products. Want a Ridley? Apply for a Ridley sponsorship. Seriously. I don't think many, if anyone, has one here in town, so they'd at least read your app. I'll even help you write your essay. (Not a joke.)

On a funnier and lighter side, of course a stupid Cat 4 woman needs a carbon cross bike that the Pros don’t even ride! You said it yourself. I’m weak. Pros are strong. They can lift heavier bikes. Additionally, because I am so slow, there is almost no chance that I will wreck my carbon bike like the faster and more deserving racers who are right there in the heat.

...but seriously, wouldn’t that suck more? You spend the money on a carbon hottie just to have it crack in a crash? Now THAT would suck!

OK, this was fun. You really are my favorite commenter and you keep me on my toes. I hope we get to chat in person some time. I bet you’re a trip!

Next up, I will be writing a blog about my wide feet with their uneven toes and how I constantly buy absolutely fucking spectacular shoes which I wear to my job at a construction company in Jefferson County. (Believe me, I feel your pain on this one too!) I want you to brush up on your Italian designers so you can beat me down about how non-supermodel feet like mine do not deserve pretty Prada sandals.

*blows kisses*

PS: I will be sucking tonight in the B race at the Alpine Shop Dirt Crits. I will be the girl in the Fulcrum Coaching skinsuit riding the badass Cannondale CX-5 cross bike sold to me by Mike Weiss at Big Shark, running the creek in my Specialized BG Pro carbon mtb shoes and drinking out of my Specialized Susan G Koman water bottle, both purchased at Mesa Bicycles. Pre-race, I can be seen slamming my raspberry Hammer gel purchased at Trek St. Louis. See ya there!

*wink*

Dirt Crit 1: July 2, 2009

With exception to the entire cyclocross season, the dirt crits are the race series that I look forward to the most.

The dirt crits are an opportunity for me to hop on my beloved cx bike, Christian, and spark the fire in me that I am generally unaware was dormant until the actual week and possibly the day of the first Dirt Crit.

On Monday prior to the start of the series, I rode the course on my cx bike to get myself reacquainted with my bike and the course.

It was glorious.

I felt alive.

I felt bad.

Naughty.

Like I was doing something that I shouldn't.

It was niiiiiiice...

Warming up on the flats by the river, I am reintroduced to the sand pit and have my first wipe-out of the dirt crit season...

Thankfully sand is soft, and sand is the only downfall this bike has seen.

As we ride the course, I feel myself aging in reverse.

I am suddenly 12 years old and the kid who used to venture out on her bike all over Brooklyn, NY and sometimes find herself down at the beach riding in the crisp and salty May air at Riis Park in Rockaway.

Dangerous.

Thrilling.

Happiness.

As Thursday morning dawns, I am bitchslapped by MoNa (Motha Nature) and am cramped over like angry trolls have kicked the snot out of me in my sleep.

I am hunched over and feverish.

(This happens every 28 days or so...)

*snicker*

I drag my ass into the office and the last thing I want to do is work, work, or work...but if I take the day off, I cannot hardly justify racing that night. So I work.

By the end of the day, I am still not sure if I am going to race.

I feel like ass as I drive home, but catch Ty's excitement as soon as I walk through the door.

He is kitted up and ready to go.

*beams with pride at her bratty little mtb racer in his pretty white kit*

He starts his normal trash talking about ass-handings and smack downs and I have to bite.

We wage a dollar on who will win between us.

(I of course bet on me over him.)

*smirk*

I kit up and load the bikes.

I am anxious to not only race, but to make a good showing with the cx bike.

Admittedly, as many times as I have ridden/raced this course on my cx bike, I feel sort of jinxed by Ralph's prediction that us cx'ers are going to flat.

I have never had a flat issue on this course, but know anything's possible.

I buy an extra tube.

We get to Castlewood and ride the course for any changes and feel confident when the whistle goes off in the C race.

I have one goal.

Beat Gabrielle.

I love the girl, but she has been kickin' ass at some MTB races and if I can beat her, that will be super awesome. The woman trains like a maniac.

*hugs Gabrielle*

We take off and I am able to advance on the turns through the matrix while some racers get tangled.

I take off after Gabrielle.

I hear Lo behind me telling Brit to jump on my wheel.

I want Brit to do well and have fun since I sort of helped push her into the race.

*high fives Brit*

Unfortunately, I don't think anyone was prepared for me to have an actual game plan.

I take off and go up on the grass to pass some racers and close the gap between me and Gabrielle.

I am behind Ty when we hit the creek.

Gabriell is 2 racers ahead of Ty.

Sadly, the racer in front of Ty wipes out on the dive into the creek...and just lays there.

He's OK, but not making an attempt to get up.

The poor guy looks like a turtle on his back.

Just as I pick up my bike to step over him to run the creek, he gets up.

Ty and I run around him and I tear ass across the creek and run up before mounting Christian (smacking my pelvic bone on my saddle) and charge after Gabrielle.

I catch her.

I'm there, but biding my time before I pass.

We come through the front of the course and I feel good until I hit the pavement and hear a sound that I hate.

"THUD!"

The sound of thinly covered rim on concrete.

WTF?!?!

*Thinks in head "DAMMIT RALPH!"*

I hop off the course as Gabrielle rolls on.

Bad words swirl in my head.

I watch racers pass by and am actually sad. (Yes, sad.)

Then I see Cody Jones from Ballwin Cycles.

I tell him I got a flat.

I joke about the jinx and he tells me he has a wheel.

"A cx wheel????" I squeal at him?

"Yeah. In my car. Do you want it?"

"Heck yes, I want it!!!" and nearly jump up and down.

As Cody rides up to his car, I feel the time ticking as racers go by...

I am reduced to Chihuahua-like behavior by the time he returns and he barely gets the wheel on as I rip the bike away and jump back into the race.

Holy hell I have a lot of ground to cover...

I dig deep and haul ass.

I see some racers and add my gears to plow past them.

I scared the almighty crap out of one as I came up on her and said, "On your left!" and hopped back onto the trail...

Through the creek, running up the hill and remounting to close this gap...

I don't even consider my brakes as I take a sharp left through the mud onto the trail between the brush and take extra enjoyment in my bike sliding through the turn and yet staying remarkably upright.

I can feel someone coming up on me.

It's a dude.

"Not now, sweet tits," I think as I dig deeper.

We hit the gravel climb at the bridge and I have to run it up.

He says, "I don't know how you are going so fast on that little bike!" and we laugh.

I keep it up and as I cross I am told "One lap to go!"

I have to catch that other chick.

As I take my turns fast heading toward the creek, I see her in the grassy section.

"Hold on, sweetheart!" I say under my breath to her as I close in on her and pass her on the turn.

I tell her she is doing great and dive into the creek.

DONE! I passed her!

I dive into the creek and come up on Casey and Karen.

Karen tells me to pass them.

No way.

Casey is ahead of me for contention. I'm not passing her. She's my buddy (and a badass 12 year old racer!) and I'm not in contention anymore.

I did what I needed to do.

We ride it out together and finish.

I didn't beat Gabrielle...or Ty, but I also didn't screw with the confidence of a developing young racer, and that felt pretty good...and right.

I did however enjoy more than I should have, scaring the shit out of the other 2 chicks...but I hope they keep racing and scare the crap out of me back one day.

Next race...The B race.

*wink*

Testing the Theory

After this weekend's suckfest at the Tour of KC, I was anxious to jump back in the saddle and kick the shit out of my mind fuck.

My biggest fear...?

The Tuesday Night Worlds C race.

I'll be frank, it's not the Cat 4 women in the C race who wig me, it's some of those crazy assed Cat 5 men.

Christ on a cracker, some of them ride like they are friggin' tweaking and I always (yes always) back off in the turn because I am terrified one of those squirrely fuckers is going to take the turn wide and/or stupid and take out the rest of the field.

While these races are meant to be practice races, they have served to do nothing but make me afraid of turns when at the beginning of the season, I wasn't.

Truthfully, I have Jay to thank for teaching me how to take turns.

Somehow, these C races have blocked all that I know...

OK, I still know it and have confidence that I can execute it, but I'm not afraid of me.

I have become spoiled by the women with whom I race regularly.

I know whose wheel to avoid and who can handle.

When those women aren't in my race, I have to trust unknowns...and that isn't good.

I am working on this and much like with what I did for psychocross season, I am traveling out of town to race more and more to push myself out of my comfort zone.

I'll get there.

That being said, women still race differently than men.

Some of these beginner men get a bike between their legs and they think they are friggin invincible.

Scary.

So last night, I signed up for the B race as well as the C race to test my theory.

Am I afraid of turns, or am I afraid of crappy handlers...?

When Chris looked at my registration and saw "B" circled, I swear to you that his eyes actually twinkled.

I called him on it and we laughed.

(Awwwwww, look at our little girl Cory growing up so fast!)

I didn't tell Jay I was doing the B race, though I knew he'd be in there.

I wanted to figure it out with a clear head.

As Jay finished the A race and rolled up for the B, I was behind him, but he didn't know it.

The whistle blew and it was very composed.

There was no thickness of panic that can be felt in the C race.

No tension.

Just going.

I hear Adrienne yell at me to grab a wheel and I surge forward and do it.

She knows what's going on with me.

Hey! Look at me not getting dropped!

This is wicked awesome!

I am relaxed when I hit the turn and start to feel my mojo returning.

I'm pretty sure I'm smiling...at least on the inside.

Hinni starts chatting with me on the climb and for a moment I don't hear him.

Then I realize that not only is he talking to me, but I can respond.

I don't feel like I am dying.

Where is my panic?

Now I know I am smiling.

Hey! Look at me 3 laps in and still with the field!

Wooo Hoooo!

I finally fall off in the last turn, but I knew I would.

I roll off for a lap and jump back in the way Jay has taught me.

WOW!

I really love this!

But now I am a little kid and so stupid excited that I figured out my deal that I roll out so that I have something left for the C race.

I see my girls Steph, Alice and Kate and am really excited.

"Did you see?!?!? I was in THERE!!!! The B race! Me!!!!"

They did. They saw. They saw me not die. They see me breathing like a normal person right in front of them as we roll around to warm up for the C race.

I am stupid drunk with excitement.

It's a little like the first time I tried on a really badass pair of shoes and not only did they fit but were on a wicked sale and I also had the money that day to buy them and not just dream. Yeah. It was like that.

OK, it was actually a little better than that.

As we line up for the C race, the question is asked, "How many of you have never raced before?"

I see 5 hands go up.

Fuuuuuuuuckkkkkkk.

One is Ashley, with whom I have ridden in the past and she is crazy strong, so I'm not worried about her.

The 4 other hands are men.

Why is this an issue?

Because generally women do not like to bleed.

We were not usually the ones tying sheets around our necks like capes and jumping off shit imagining that we can fly (...then realize that they can't fly...or land gracefully and whine for 3 weeks over their boo-boos while seeking sympathy and task management from the women in their lives. Derrrrr.)

*giggle*

We climbed shit, we jumped off shit, but typically we were pretty logical about it.

Women tend to make calculated risk decisions.

Plus, we generally care that our noses stay centered between our eyes and our teeth stay rooted and in one piece.

Men will show you a scar like they are showing you a vintage GTO.

Sure, scars are cool for a second, but there are moments in the scar-telling story in which no matter how a women nods her head and appears impressed with your maleness, she is still thinking, "Effing assclown!"

Hey, you need only share a toilet with a man a short while to be frightened about how he may handle his bike.

If there's piss all over his toilet, he will surely wreck you in TNWs.

Just sayin'.

My son, I ride in front of...and he now has his own toilet.

Jay, I ride behind.

Soooooo, the C race starts with a neutral lap.

As we start the descent to "The Turn", this one guy next to me has clearly crapped his chamois and seems to be having a stroke on his bike. (I can say that because he wasn't having a stroke but was instead one who chose to get a bike instead of a red convertible when he hit his "crisis age".)

Don't get me wrong, I am still proud of him for getting out there. Better in there than not in there, but I still want my skin on my person and my carbon pony in one piece.

Alice sees him too and speeds up.

I start to go with her but he moves in front of me.

Fantastic.

My usual tension was there at the turn as I observed the shaky looseness of this field.

I smirk at myself. I am such a wuss.

I realize I still need to get past this, as anything can happen in any race, no matter which level you race.

I go around again, but am so in love with my memory of the B race and not wanting my night to be spoiled that when Jeremy comes around and tells me to jump on his wheel, I let him go.

I know I'm not staying.

I'm not dying.

I'm not hurting.

I'm simply done.

On my terms.

I roll over to Jay and the kiddos and by this time he has realized that I was in the B race.

He can also see how calm and happy I am.

Everything is different for me at that moment.

I am taking this with me for a while.