The Wrath of the Badger

As reported on our team blog, Badger decided she was through with the whole team-time-trialing thing on Saturday and ran amok, running over everyone in sight. Trying to reinact the chain of events from the various injuries Michelle received, I can only assume that Badger ran over her and backed up, only to run her down again. I haven't seen Sonja, but I know she got her share of the Badger wrath as well.

I don't know what provoked the temper tantrum, but while looking up general information about badgers, I ran across two gems:

A badger is one of the toughest animals out there, it is closely related to the wolverine and has the same temper. They technically have no natural predators because most other animals avoid them at all costs.

Temper, Temper: Several African tribes report that the honey badger attacks the scrotum of larger mammals if provoked and has even castrated humans. While these reports remain uncorroborated by first-hand evidence, there is some circumstantial evidence such as remains of castrated waterbuck and gnu found in Kruger National Park (dead by blood loss).

I've always kind of wondered where Zimmerly got her nickname. Now I know. Consider this a public-service announcement.

While accompanying Mitch and mom to the local Urgent Care clinic, I called Coach Slavedriver to let him know what happened. The call started in confusion as he railed me for doing a time trial in my condition. He knows me well, but I was happy to say: I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT - I was just cleaning up the damage after the fact !

We decided, much to Mom's approval, Mitch was off the bike for a little while as her knee healed. Badger did a number on it, puncturing it right on the knee-cap. Lucky for Mitch, she has fat knees, so the damage was contained with two stitches. Fat knees: Doc is cleaning out the wound and Mitch says "What's that you're pulling out?" figuring it was tissue or bandages from the triage after the race. Doc says: "oh, its just fat". Classic Mitch (I like to think influenced by classic plainjane) - "Are you calling my knees fat!?!?"

Beware: the now dubbed Two-Stitch-Mitch (rhymes better than FatKnees) will be back in action in a few days to take out her aggression on the competition.

PS: Mitch, Goat and Badger: Rest up and heal quickly- I miss you guys but I don't want you to join me on the IR.

It's the Little Things ...

As my last post indicated, I have single-handedly (pun intended) undone thousands of years of evolution as I currently lack an opposable thumb on my right hand. Over the past week, I've come to realize that this world is not exactly -supportive- of our kind.

The task of opening a bottle of water has become daunting. Posting a blog requires planning my time and energy for the typing marathon. Buttons on clothing continuously taunt me. Opening a car door necessitates putting anything in my "good hand" on the ground so I can grasp the handle.

Honestly, it's the little things. While in Philly, a friend was accompanying me in search of food. I grabbed my sneakers and after getting them on, looked up helplessly - I couldn't tie the shoe laces. As a side note, there's nothing quite like being 32 and having someone tie your shoes for you. Oh well, at least he was cute. Problem is that I live alone and don't always have cute boys to help out ... if I were a little less vain, i could see the benefits of velcro sneakers. If I were a little less vain.

Most of the guys can't relate, but the girls will know what i mean when i say that putting your hair in a pony-tail (or, worse, my trademark pig-tails) with one hand is not exactly easy or fun.

I can't operate a pepper-grinder. Getting out of a sports bra requires a more twisted version of what I call the skinsuit dance (you know, the contortions you make to get your arms into the skinsuit and get everything situated in the right place).

There are some minor miracles, though: I got this fancy-cast liner from Gore ... of course insurance doesnt cover it (sigh) but it's well worth the $40. It replaces the gauze/cloth liner and drains/drys out very quickly, so I don't have to shower like the Statue of Liberty and I can technically go into a pool etc. This is huge given the fact that I have to work out and while I like to believe that I sweat lilacs and rose petals (to quote a friend), after a month things would be ...questionable ... if I couldn't wash out the cast.

Coach Slavedriver asked me on Sunday ..."so what are you going to do for the next three months?" Honestly, I dont know. I'm a sap and I miss the racing/training already, I miss getting up at o'dark:thirty to get in a ride or travel to the races, and more than that, I miss seeing all of my lycra-clad friends.

I went for my first run since November this morning. Nice to get in a decent workout in under an hour. Not so nice to remember that my ribs are still bruised and that I need a new pair of running shoes. Running will keep me in decent shape and allow me to partake in my favorite food-group (ice cream), but it's just not the same.

Completely changing the subject from my sob-story to an interesting article Mitch sent us this am: Essentially a bike tour in France for prisoners. I'm thinking that wouldn't go over so well here, but it's kind of an interesting concept.

Tough Chicks, Philly and Tiddly-winks

Guys dig tough chicks. At least that's what all my friends are telling me in an effort to make me feel better about my super-cool (or not) cast. Final prognosis: Broken radius, which we knew and fractured schaphoid, which we didn't. Good news is that it doesn't require surgery. Bad news is that it does require a cast immobilizing my thumb for 3 months.

This means I can't even do time trials and by the time I get through enough PT to get some strength back in my wrist, the season is over. I won't pretend that I didn't cry as the doctor was wrapping the cast. The assistant didn't know what to do with me - she offered up all kinds of colors for the cast (hot pink? neon green?) and I swear her next step was to give me a lollipop. Sigh.

Over the weekend, I went up to Philly to support my girls in the race. They are all rock-stars, by the way, and since I've never so much as watched the race, it was quite an experience.

Highlights include:

- seeing all of our local girls excited and ready to tackle the race. I've always loved how we tend to support our local competitors when we're racing out of district. Many thanks and much love to the ABRT gals who gave us words of wisdom and lots of good energy.

- being able to explain my cast with one word: Somerville. In "normal" company, I have to explain that I race a bike, no, not a motorcycle, a pedal-bike, then I have to explain the sport, where we race etc and by that time I'm ready to fill one of the myraid of perscriptions I've been given for narcotics.

- getting heckled in the womens caravan going up the Wall. Long story short, we wound up driving Mitch's car in the race. Which has now been officially nicknamed the hooptie. (worth clicking on the link for the definition). The drunk frat-boys on the Wall were taking bets on whether we'd make it up the hill, someone asked if we were lost, I had a guy encourage us to "light em up", which was funny since the gas pedal was to the floor already.

- Mitch on the radio telling us that she could hear her car all the way up in the peleton.

- hearing aforementioned frat-boys say "Those are the manliest women I've ever seen" (and knowing that none of my girls were in that group).

- watching the mens race - amazing show of strategy and strength. Two teams went to the front and chased back a break with a couple laps to go, pulling them in from a 6+ min lead. The peleton came through the Start/Finish area FLYING - it was both breathtaking to watch and insane to know this pace was after over 6hrs in the saddle. It was as close as I've been to "real" professional cycling.

It was a long weekend but well worth the trip. Here's hoping that I can suffer along with my teammates next year - yes, I realize it's a bit masochistic to want to suffer. I leave you with two quotes that I found today - the first one is motivating, the second one is just plain funny.

"To be a cyclist is to be a student of pain....at cycling's core lies pain, hard and bitter as the pit inside a juicy peach. It doesn't matter if you're sprinting for an Olympic medal, a town sign, a trailhead, or the rest stop with the homemade brownies. If you never confront pain, you're missing the essence of the sport. Without pain, there's no adversity. Without adversity, no challenge. Without challenge, no improvement. No improvement, no sense of accomplishment and no deep-down joy. Might as well be playing Tiddly-Winks."
Scott Martin
"The bicycle is just as good company as most husbands and, when it gets old and shabby, a woman can dispose of it and get a new one without shocking the entire community."
Ann Strong, Minneapolis Tribune, 1895