I'm generally an optimist...OK, more of a realist, but when I hear cry baby songs on free radio like this mess that David Cook has just released, I want to vomit and then punch his mother for having him neutered.
He sings, "When you find you, come back to me..."
Really?
Seriously?
And men say that women are nuts?
Dude, man up.
Likely your semi-psycho girlfriend gave you the "It's not you, it's me" speech and you didn't see it for what it was.
...or...
You caught her doing your best friend and in a last minute attempt to keep you from slitting your wrist, she told you that she was confused and "lost" and being the whipped assclown that you are, you bought it.
Honestly, I realize that true love does exist, but this scenario isn't it.
What kind of nutless candyass waits around for some unbalanced cuckoo (who likely has 3 or more cats) to "find" herself?
She isn't leaving to find herself, bro. She is leaving because she has likely gone out of her ever loving mind from you serenading her with that sappy ear poison you call music as soon as she walks through the door from a long day at a real job.
Likely she is tired of your whiny neediness and simply wants you to throw her on the bed and ride her like a Pinarello.
You're going to "keep your things right where you left them...I'll be here for you..."
Yeah.
OK.
You may just be nuttier than she is.
Some dude tells me he's keeping my stuff like a shrine and I assure you, I'm moving to another state.
Your friends won't tell you this, David because they are all afraid to hurt your "sensitive" feelings while you are in this "fragile" state, but I'm here for you.
...but, ummmm...do NOT come back to me. I'm all stocked up on cuckoo.
However, I heard Daughtry just dumped his bitch and needs a new one...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
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*
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*
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
My Wealth and Speed
While I was initially really annoyed to receive a comment on the "Name My Bike" blog from Muscle-Milk which stated simply, "you are rich and slow," at almost midnight, it really made me think.
Because I know the person wasn't intending to be kind, I realized that they likely were not referring to any richness of character traits.
That being said, I also knew there was a pretty good chance that the person didn't know me very well...or at all.
I know this because anyone who does actually know me, knows that I am far from possessing any financial wealth and considering my ever-growing mountain of medical bills which are not covered by insurance but instead paid out of my pocket more often than not, I am not likely to be rich within the next 20 years...unless Ed McMahon knocks on my door.
*looks at newspaper from week before last*
Ooooops! Looks like Ol' Ed is finally done ringin' doorbells with freakishly large checks for weird, balloon-filled photo ops...My bad.
Until tonight, I was unaware that a 5 year old station wagon meant that I was livin' large.
Since Mr./Ms. Milk posted on a blog about my new cx bike, I guess they assume I'm rolling in cash.
I'm not.
I had to cut way back on some things to be able to afford this cycling season, and I'll be dammed if I'll be treated like some spoiled Trust Fund Baby.
I didn't marry a rich dude. I married an engineer...when I was 29 and had long been busting my ass on my own.
I had a Mercedes and he had a Chrysler Sebring.
We sold my Benz to put a new kitchen in our house.
When I left, I took a picture frame and a Pampered Chef casserole dish that I bought from a lady in my office.
I bought a Jeep.
In my lifetime I have lived in some very fine houses and I have lived in my car.
I have slept on the floor, on the couch, and in my car.
I have eaten at glorious restaurants and I have eaten Ramen noodles for months on end.
What I have always had was strength. Both mental and physical. For this I am fortunate.
I grew up with a mom who was a manic depressive and slit her wrists out of boredom and for attention.
I was always at a loss on how to save her.
I saved myself. She eventually followed.
I was rich with imagination and creativity.
I was rich with determination to be different.
I was rich with the will to never look back.
I was rich with the knowledge of how NOT to treat people.
That may be why at this point in my life, an oldish/youngish woman in the beginning stages of menopause and about to celebrate my 10th anniversary of surviving something I have been told multiple times would kill me, that I am confused by someone's preoccupation with what material things another may have.
So, I have a new bike. So what?
I also have two beautiful children, not purchased at Saks, whose eyes I look into every time I get a bad test result and convince them and myself that it will all work out.
Have you seen me with my children?
We are rich in affection and love and independence.
You worry about my bikes?
You want a new bike, then go buy one.
If you can't afford it, save or figure it out.
Why does my bike matter to you?
Why does it piss you off?
Why does the concept of me on my bike piss you off?
Have I ever run over you with one?
I'm generally happy when on my bike...unless I am bleeding...or like I was today, which was suffering with bruises from head to tow and a knee brace as I tried to get a smooth revolution...
Did I make a mean face at you? I assure you, it was probably pain, not meanness.
Have you seen me with my bikes?
If so, you would clearly see that regardless of speed, I adore my bikes.
They are not cute little toys for me to play with until I get bored.
They are alive, as am I when I am on them.
I am not the female version of a midlife crisis gone wrong.
I didn't buy a bike instead of a Corvette.
When my mother left, I was 10.
I got a mauve Raleigh 12 speed for that birthday.
I was immediately free.
Free of every fucked up emotion that a 10 year old could feel when her mom leaves because she simply doesn't want to be a parent anymore.
Free of feeling lost as I was raised away from my younger sibling, something from which we have never recovered.
Free to explore a city that no 10 year old girl should be exploring on her own.
Free to go where I wanted, without witness...so long as I was home by the time the street lights came on.
Free to speed away from mean girls who wanted to kick my ass.
Free to go all the places that other kids needed a mom to drive them.
Free.
Free.
Free.
You cannot put a price on that.
My entry-level road bike was the first thing that I bought with my divorce settlement.
It felt good.
It was nice to be free again.
I truly am sorry that my material items, whatever limited knowledge you have of them, bothers you so.
My bikes would only be material to someone who has never been where I have.
For me, putting a price on them is an insult...and is probably why I have a difficult time parting with them.
They each hold so many stories for me and each has lived a life.
While I am fortunate to have the bikes that I do, I am most happy that I am rich in so many things, including beautiful and healthy children, wonderful friends and challenging opponents.
And if you consider it a bit longer...or possibly simply mature a little more, you will realize that whether it pertains to racing or life, it is strength that matters most. Not speed.
...and while I am certainly not the strongest person alive, chances are that I have you beat there.
Because I know the person wasn't intending to be kind, I realized that they likely were not referring to any richness of character traits.
That being said, I also knew there was a pretty good chance that the person didn't know me very well...or at all.
I know this because anyone who does actually know me, knows that I am far from possessing any financial wealth and considering my ever-growing mountain of medical bills which are not covered by insurance but instead paid out of my pocket more often than not, I am not likely to be rich within the next 20 years...unless Ed McMahon knocks on my door.
*looks at newspaper from week before last*
Ooooops! Looks like Ol' Ed is finally done ringin' doorbells with freakishly large checks for weird, balloon-filled photo ops...My bad.
Until tonight, I was unaware that a 5 year old station wagon meant that I was livin' large.
Since Mr./Ms. Milk posted on a blog about my new cx bike, I guess they assume I'm rolling in cash.
I'm not.
I had to cut way back on some things to be able to afford this cycling season, and I'll be dammed if I'll be treated like some spoiled Trust Fund Baby.
I didn't marry a rich dude. I married an engineer...when I was 29 and had long been busting my ass on my own.
I had a Mercedes and he had a Chrysler Sebring.
We sold my Benz to put a new kitchen in our house.
When I left, I took a picture frame and a Pampered Chef casserole dish that I bought from a lady in my office.
I bought a Jeep.
In my lifetime I have lived in some very fine houses and I have lived in my car.
I have slept on the floor, on the couch, and in my car.
I have eaten at glorious restaurants and I have eaten Ramen noodles for months on end.
What I have always had was strength. Both mental and physical. For this I am fortunate.
I grew up with a mom who was a manic depressive and slit her wrists out of boredom and for attention.
I was always at a loss on how to save her.
I saved myself. She eventually followed.
I was rich with imagination and creativity.
I was rich with determination to be different.
I was rich with the will to never look back.
I was rich with the knowledge of how NOT to treat people.
That may be why at this point in my life, an oldish/youngish woman in the beginning stages of menopause and about to celebrate my 10th anniversary of surviving something I have been told multiple times would kill me, that I am confused by someone's preoccupation with what material things another may have.
So, I have a new bike. So what?
I also have two beautiful children, not purchased at Saks, whose eyes I look into every time I get a bad test result and convince them and myself that it will all work out.
Have you seen me with my children?
We are rich in affection and love and independence.
You worry about my bikes?
You want a new bike, then go buy one.
If you can't afford it, save or figure it out.
Why does my bike matter to you?
Why does it piss you off?
Why does the concept of me on my bike piss you off?
Have I ever run over you with one?
I'm generally happy when on my bike...unless I am bleeding...or like I was today, which was suffering with bruises from head to tow and a knee brace as I tried to get a smooth revolution...
Did I make a mean face at you? I assure you, it was probably pain, not meanness.
Have you seen me with my bikes?
If so, you would clearly see that regardless of speed, I adore my bikes.
They are not cute little toys for me to play with until I get bored.
They are alive, as am I when I am on them.
I am not the female version of a midlife crisis gone wrong.
I didn't buy a bike instead of a Corvette.
When my mother left, I was 10.
I got a mauve Raleigh 12 speed for that birthday.
I was immediately free.
Free of every fucked up emotion that a 10 year old could feel when her mom leaves because she simply doesn't want to be a parent anymore.
Free of feeling lost as I was raised away from my younger sibling, something from which we have never recovered.
Free to explore a city that no 10 year old girl should be exploring on her own.
Free to go where I wanted, without witness...so long as I was home by the time the street lights came on.
Free to speed away from mean girls who wanted to kick my ass.
Free to go all the places that other kids needed a mom to drive them.
Free.
Free.
Free.
You cannot put a price on that.
My entry-level road bike was the first thing that I bought with my divorce settlement.
It felt good.
It was nice to be free again.
I truly am sorry that my material items, whatever limited knowledge you have of them, bothers you so.
My bikes would only be material to someone who has never been where I have.
For me, putting a price on them is an insult...and is probably why I have a difficult time parting with them.
They each hold so many stories for me and each has lived a life.
While I am fortunate to have the bikes that I do, I am most happy that I am rich in so many things, including beautiful and healthy children, wonderful friends and challenging opponents.
And if you consider it a bit longer...or possibly simply mature a little more, you will realize that whether it pertains to racing or life, it is strength that matters most. Not speed.
...and while I am certainly not the strongest person alive, chances are that I have you beat there.
10 Things Overheard on an MTB Adventure with Cory & Lisa
10. "...So this next trail has some descents, but nothing too tricky..." (Heard by Lisa just prior to them sliding down Cardiac.)
9. "Well...Adrienne said I needed to work on my descents...I'm not sure she meant this though..." (Cory laughing as her cross bike bombs down fast and furious descent.)
8. "...Did you hear me scream? I was hoping I had a better story for you other than a cute and fuzzy squirrel almost got sliced in my spokes thus wrecking me off that cliff. That's a little embarrassing..." (Said to Lisa after a suicidal squirrel made a go for it while I was riding the edge.)
7. "Fuck! Owwwww! Shit! Damn!! That hurt! ...Yep, this is still better than marriage...at least my marriage!" (Said to Lisa just after the big pedal-knee slap down during losing battle with tree limb.)
6. "I'm sorry...what? I couldn't hear you over my breathing..." (Said by Lisa after being *tricked* by Cory to ride Love.)
5. "I had to stop. I lost my sunglasses in my boobs..." (Said by Lisa after rough ride caused glasses to slip a bit. )
4. "Hey! I think I may have this whole 'fear thing' conquered!" (Said to Lisa just before #3)
3. "Hey! That was almost an endo!!!" (Said to Lisa after a descent into a hairpin when I had thankfully unclipped my foot fast enough to ground myself while Christian went flying and only barely dragged me to the ground.)
2. *OOOOF!* "Cookie check...Yep, it's still there!" (Said by Cory after smacking hoo-ha on stem while out of the saddle on a climb...and slipped.)
1. "Yep, I am for sure going to bleed today!" (Said by Cory after semi-brilliant decision to defy gravity/physics and ride cross bike down Cardiac.)
9. "Well...Adrienne said I needed to work on my descents...I'm not sure she meant this though..." (Cory laughing as her cross bike bombs down fast and furious descent.)
8. "...Did you hear me scream? I was hoping I had a better story for you other than a cute and fuzzy squirrel almost got sliced in my spokes thus wrecking me off that cliff. That's a little embarrassing..." (Said to Lisa after a suicidal squirrel made a go for it while I was riding the edge.)
7. "Fuck! Owwwww! Shit! Damn!! That hurt! ...Yep, this is still better than marriage...at least my marriage!" (Said to Lisa just after the big pedal-knee slap down during losing battle with tree limb.)
6. "I'm sorry...what? I couldn't hear you over my breathing..." (Said by Lisa after being *tricked* by Cory to ride Love.)
5. "I had to stop. I lost my sunglasses in my boobs..." (Said by Lisa after rough ride caused glasses to slip a bit. )
4. "Hey! I think I may have this whole 'fear thing' conquered!" (Said to Lisa just before #3)
3. "Hey! That was almost an endo!!!" (Said to Lisa after a descent into a hairpin when I had thankfully unclipped my foot fast enough to ground myself while Christian went flying and only barely dragged me to the ground.)
2. *OOOOF!* "Cookie check...Yep, it's still there!" (Said by Cory after smacking hoo-ha on stem while out of the saddle on a climb...and slipped.)
1. "Yep, I am for sure going to bleed today!" (Said by Cory after semi-brilliant decision to defy gravity/physics and ride cross bike down Cardiac.)
Sunday, July 5, 2009
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*
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*
Friday, July 3, 2009
Name My Bike...
OK. New cross bike on order.
Assuming all goes will with the fit, I will be sporting a 2010 Ridley X-Fire for this psychocross season...
*raises roof to Mike Weiss at Big Shark*
My current cx love is Christian, which seemed fitting because it was a cross bike.
(Get it? Cross? Christian? hee hee hee)
Although he is actually named after several hot Christians, including VDV, I think the Ridley needs an identity of his own.
He won't be here for a few weeks, but here are some peek pics.
What would you name this hottie.
*NOTE: I like to ride male things so it must be a male name...no Pats or Dales, or Sams, please. Also none of the following names:
- Scott
- Brad
- Johnny
- Dave
- Russell
- or Alan
Typically, my bikes also possess the name of a musician, with exception to Christian.
Ready. Set. GO!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The Mostly Offensive Blog
*DISCLAIMER*
If you have a BMI over 25, you will not like this blog...nor me if you read it. That being said, just because you don't like it, it doesn't make it untrue or wrong...and I'm not here to make friends.
In 2005 I started an organization called Keep It Simple. Originally it was a retail based company which had an affiliated business agreement to market health and wellness products through a distributorship owned by my family.
My end of the business originally specifically targeted athletes. Somewhere along the way, I realized that athletes didn't need help.
The people who were struggling were the non-athletic overweight population of middle America.
Frankly, these people pissed me off.
I continually received inquiries about which product would help these people lose weight.
Could I help them "quick start" a weight loss program.
Truth?
Yes. I could.
I could sell products and they would buy them and as long as they lost a pound or two, they would keep coming back.
It wasn't enough for me.
I didn't want to sell them a product.
I wanted to open their eyes.
I also knew it would be a tough sell.
Who the hell would listen to me about the struggles of being overweight?
At the time, I was 122 pounds and trying to gain weight.
Marketing.
"...A picture is worth a thousand words..."
I posted a picture of me as a "not so tiny" person.
I wasn't some Barbie who had never struggled.
I knew where they were and knew all the excuses.
I was a size 6 who went to a size 16 within 6 months.
It took a pretty short time at size 16 to realize something needed to change.
(Honestly, I am surprised it took me 6 months to realize I had grown so fast.)
I took a long and difficult look at my lifestyle and the choices I was making and smacked the crap out of myself.
There wasn't the same product hell available to me at the time that there is now for people who are looking for a quick fix, so I needed to actually change my eating habits.
A diet wouldn't work.
So I did it. I was a size 10 in six months and a size 6 a year later.
A size 4 six months after that.
I ate a lot. Multiple times a day.
...but I didn't eat crap.
I wasn't a vegetarian or vegan.
I didn't grab a tambourine and a candle and start growing my own produce.
I simply stopped buying into marketing.
Here's a tip, "Value Menu" or "Drive-thru" equals fat ass, stinky gas and bad skin.
If it needs butter, cheese, or ketchup to make it taste better, don't eat it.
Pork rinds are not on any food pyramid...even the really outdated ones.
...as a matter of fact, I challenge you to find any doctor or nutritionist who will tell you that frying food is good for you.
When I moved to the Midwest, I realized that they take fried food to a whole other level.
Deep-fried turkey? Really?
Deep fried Twinkies?
Is that a joke?
Hey, I'm not slamming the Midwest, lord knows the South has WAY more fried food...
But, come on. Healthy eating is still somewhat nouveau and chic out here.
I was told that I was too "in your face" with the whole weight loss thing and that no one wants to be told they are overweight.
No. I agree. They don't.
Not saying it doesn't make it not true.
Obesity is not the Boogie Man.
It's there in your face.
It's there sitting on your lap when you are naked on the toilet.
Believe.
...or at least open your eyes.
It's there. Fucking with you.
More importantly, it's there fucking with your health.
It's there fueling an industry just waiting to pry on your self loathing and poor self image.
I severed ties with the retail side of my family's company and became strictly an advocate for women's wellness.
I started educating women on the cancerous risks of being overweight.
I offered a buddy system to go out with them to kick-start their physical program and keep them motivated.
Ty started a group that sought to educate kids on making healthier choices and provided other options for those not interested in team sports.
We had volunteers speak to kids about cycling, running, hiking, and climbing...
Regardless, people, the adult people always wanted the quick fix.
OK.
You want it?
Here it is.
Lean in.
A little closer...
....closer...
*flicks reader on head through laptop screen*
THERE.
IS.
NO.
QUICK.
FIX!!!!!
...but...
It is really simple.
Seriously.
You MUST watch what you eat and make wise choices.
You should take a moment to research what it is you are putting into your body.
Generally, if you can't pronounce it, you either:
If that means parking the car 10 spots farther away from the door or simply shagging your spouse, do something that does not involve a remote.
I watched over the past few years as boat loads of people jumped on the Atkins bandwagon the way they suddenly supported the Rams when they had a shot at the Super Bowl in 2000.
Hey, if it seems too good to be true, even if it works for a short while, it probably is too good to be true.
Then again, what do I know?
I'm just a former fat chic who managed to stay a size 4 for over 10 years without giving up carbs, wine, or having to eat copious amounts of decomposing flesh.
*ducks bottles of AB products, handfuls of provel "cheese", and toasted raviolis thrown at her by angry fatties in denial*
C'mon now. I'm not saying that every ass needs to be in a bike saddle, but for Pete's sake, make a friggin' change that wasn't commercially marketed to you and is of your own free will and stop making excuses.
Chances are, it isn't those pants or your hormones making you look fat...it's your actual fat making you look fat. It is for me.
...and believe me, I have NO excuse.
If you have a BMI over 25, you will not like this blog...nor me if you read it. That being said, just because you don't like it, it doesn't make it untrue or wrong...and I'm not here to make friends.
In 2005 I started an organization called Keep It Simple. Originally it was a retail based company which had an affiliated business agreement to market health and wellness products through a distributorship owned by my family.
My end of the business originally specifically targeted athletes. Somewhere along the way, I realized that athletes didn't need help.
The people who were struggling were the non-athletic overweight population of middle America.
Frankly, these people pissed me off.
I continually received inquiries about which product would help these people lose weight.
Could I help them "quick start" a weight loss program.
Truth?
Yes. I could.
I could sell products and they would buy them and as long as they lost a pound or two, they would keep coming back.
It wasn't enough for me.
I didn't want to sell them a product.
I wanted to open their eyes.
I also knew it would be a tough sell.
Who the hell would listen to me about the struggles of being overweight?
At the time, I was 122 pounds and trying to gain weight.
Marketing.
"...A picture is worth a thousand words..."
I posted a picture of me as a "not so tiny" person.
I wasn't some Barbie who had never struggled.
I knew where they were and knew all the excuses.
I was a size 6 who went to a size 16 within 6 months.
It took a pretty short time at size 16 to realize something needed to change.
(Honestly, I am surprised it took me 6 months to realize I had grown so fast.)
I took a long and difficult look at my lifestyle and the choices I was making and smacked the crap out of myself.
There wasn't the same product hell available to me at the time that there is now for people who are looking for a quick fix, so I needed to actually change my eating habits.
A diet wouldn't work.
So I did it. I was a size 10 in six months and a size 6 a year later.
A size 4 six months after that.
I ate a lot. Multiple times a day.
...but I didn't eat crap.
I wasn't a vegetarian or vegan.
I didn't grab a tambourine and a candle and start growing my own produce.
I simply stopped buying into marketing.
Here's a tip, "Value Menu" or "Drive-thru" equals fat ass, stinky gas and bad skin.
If it needs butter, cheese, or ketchup to make it taste better, don't eat it.
Pork rinds are not on any food pyramid...even the really outdated ones.
...as a matter of fact, I challenge you to find any doctor or nutritionist who will tell you that frying food is good for you.
When I moved to the Midwest, I realized that they take fried food to a whole other level.
Deep-fried turkey? Really?
Deep fried Twinkies?
Is that a joke?
Hey, I'm not slamming the Midwest, lord knows the South has WAY more fried food...
But, come on. Healthy eating is still somewhat nouveau and chic out here.
I was told that I was too "in your face" with the whole weight loss thing and that no one wants to be told they are overweight.
No. I agree. They don't.
Not saying it doesn't make it not true.
Obesity is not the Boogie Man.
It's there in your face.
It's there sitting on your lap when you are naked on the toilet.
Believe.
...or at least open your eyes.
It's there. Fucking with you.
More importantly, it's there fucking with your health.
It's there fueling an industry just waiting to pry on your self loathing and poor self image.
I severed ties with the retail side of my family's company and became strictly an advocate for women's wellness.
I started educating women on the cancerous risks of being overweight.
I offered a buddy system to go out with them to kick-start their physical program and keep them motivated.
Ty started a group that sought to educate kids on making healthier choices and provided other options for those not interested in team sports.
We had volunteers speak to kids about cycling, running, hiking, and climbing...
Regardless, people, the adult people always wanted the quick fix.
OK.
You want it?
Here it is.
Lean in.
A little closer...
....closer...
*flicks reader on head through laptop screen*
THERE.
IS.
NO.
QUICK.
FIX!!!!!
...but...
It is really simple.
Seriously.
You MUST watch what you eat and make wise choices.
You should take a moment to research what it is you are putting into your body.
Generally, if you can't pronounce it, you either:
- (A) shouldn't ingest it, or
- (B) should Google the motherfucker to make sure it isn't going to kill you/make you fat.
If that means parking the car 10 spots farther away from the door or simply shagging your spouse, do something that does not involve a remote.
I watched over the past few years as boat loads of people jumped on the Atkins bandwagon the way they suddenly supported the Rams when they had a shot at the Super Bowl in 2000.
Hey, if it seems too good to be true, even if it works for a short while, it probably is too good to be true.
Then again, what do I know?
I'm just a former fat chic who managed to stay a size 4 for over 10 years without giving up carbs, wine, or having to eat copious amounts of decomposing flesh.
*ducks bottles of AB products, handfuls of provel "cheese", and toasted raviolis thrown at her by angry fatties in denial*
C'mon now. I'm not saying that every ass needs to be in a bike saddle, but for Pete's sake, make a friggin' change that wasn't commercially marketed to you and is of your own free will and stop making excuses.
Chances are, it isn't those pants or your hormones making you look fat...it's your actual fat making you look fat. It is for me.
...and believe me, I have NO excuse.
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