Observing the Holey Day

When we first rolled out on Sunday morning for our hill training ride, I imagined that my blog that day would be to sing the praises of the delightful new saddle Jay put on my bike to replace the "cookie destroyer" that I had been riding. As it turns out, this blog will be very different, though I will still sing the praises of my new Selle Italia SLK gel flow (aka "package of love").

Allow me to set the scene...

*makes rewinding sounds with mouth like a more moronic (is this possible?) female Jack Black*

Saturday, a group of us headed to Columbia Bottoms to ride the flats.

This is always a fun ride to do just when you are starting to feel really strong and confident. As you ride into miles of head winds, you battle your mind as much as the wind and hope/pray that your body decides to be on your team. (My body seems to toss a coin in which I am on the losing side every time. Every. Time.)

*flips off stupid body*

For me it is mind-fuckage enough to roll out knowing I am the weakest rider in the group. This route leaves me no opportunity for redemption. All I can do is push harder than I did the last time and just get better.

I pushed myself out of my comfort level.

I did my sprints in the wind.

I screamed in my head.

I questioned myself as to why I wasn't on a lovely-paced group ride away from the ass-kicking winds on such a glorious day...

Then I reminded myself that I was trying to get better. Stronger. Faster.

...or at least less of a big baby.

That's when it got better for me.

When we headed back, Jay told me to jump on his wheel and he was gonna motor...

I watched him take off and thought "less than sweet" thoughts about the ways in which I would torture him later, but I picked up the pace.

I pushed.

It felt wonderful.

I was alone, and it was very freeing.

When Jay and I meet up down the road, we ride together and finish our work out, and play around to have a little fun to close out the ride.

By the time we roll back to our cars, we are laughing and feel pretty good.

I know that I will have to go back out there soon and get my ass kicked, but at least it was over for that day...

Fast forward to Sunday morning.

*makes fast forward sound yet again like a moronic female Jack Black*

We wake up and it is beautiful out.

Jay opens the doors and windows and we enjoy breakfast and get ready to head out for some hill training.

Just as we are dressed, the sky opens up and it pours down.

F*CK!!

It stops abruptly and Jay says, "Let's go!"

The sun is shining brightly and the birds are singing gloriously when we roll out.

I have the honor of being on Jay's wheel and being bathed in the magical glow of his muddy wheel spray...

I am thinking in my head about how this must be true love if I am not upset that my Radars are being sprayed with this mess when a gust of wind knocks me sideways.

I stay upright, but a smallish scream escapes my lips. I then bite my lower lip hoping that Jay didn't hear it.

I am, beyond thrilled that I have another long day of wind with the added topping of hills and wonder why freaks like us consider this "fun"...

This sarcasm takes my mind down the path of a blog that Jessi sent me last week (Sitting In and Bowing Out: The Art of Pass/Fail Racing), and I start laughing as I imagine wrecking myself so that I don't have to ride hills this day...

I come to my senses as I remember how much I love my skin so much better on my person than on the pavement and remember that I no longer have the luxury/stupidity of pain meds...

We ride up a lovely hill and I am loving the fact that we have switched out my small ring...

The hill was almost enjoyable.

We turn onto a busy and wet Jeffco Blvd. and Jay comments about the wind.

We joke about how the wind knocked me way back there and roll up to a stop light in the left turn lane.

The wind is hitting us pretty hard as we sit there.

The light turns green and we both stand up to power through it.

Just then, a huge (to me) gust of wind throws down a "Cory Bitchslap" and I watch my wheels lift sideways as I am thrown across the intersection.

I have a somewhat surreal experience as I watch myself sliding across the pavement on my chest and side while looking behind me to make sure a car isn't going to run over my head.

Thankfully, there were no cars behind me.

Quick as shit I jump up and grab my beloved Trent (my bike) and haul ass out of the road so I don't get run over by some Confederate Flag waving yahoo in a Dodge Ram.

Jay holds my bike as I sit down and tremble a bit and assess my bodily damage.

Face and hands in tact, I look at the mess that is my elbow and left leg and start laughing. I then realize that there is some interesting damage on my upper thigh, under my shorts and to my left nipple.

(Yep. I have road rash on my nip.)

Niiiiiiiiice.

Jay offers to call his mom to pick me up, but I think I can roll on.

(I mean seriously, it's a boo-boo!)

We start to roll on and another gust of wind comes.

That's it.

I can be a badass only so many times in one ten-minute frame of time.

I imagined either:

A) wrecking again on my now bloody left side and mentally cringed,

or...

B) wrecking on my right side and being like that kid in A Christmas Story who can't move his arms in that snowsuit (except with me in dual casts)...and that was all it took for me.

I was out.

Jay's mom came to get me and Jay continued his ride. (You can read more about that here.)

When I return to the house, I strip down and immediately shower to get the dirt and blood off of me before my shock wears off and I have to scream.

(See? I am smarter than the average bear.)

I decide which wounds will be the easiest to apply peroxide and save the gashed elbow for last.

I pour on the peroxide and it is like one of those scenes in a movie where you hear the echo out in the wilderness and all the birds are chased from their nests...

Yeah. A scream like that.

I am happy that Jay is far away in the wind and cannot hear me (or point and laugh).

I pack up my things and am about to head out when I remember the items of love in the cabinet that Jay had purchased for us a while back...

(Hey! Get your mind out of the gutter!)

And while in the spirit of the blog title I would love to tell you I made myself a Virgin Mary, I didn't.

Instead, in the spirit of my ride, I made myself a very yummy Bloody Cory...errrr...Mary and relaxed while lounging on the sofa in front of the window and listened to the wind blow.

I thought of Jay getting his ass kicked out there and raised my glass to him.

I took a sip and thought, "Better you than me, Honey!"