Race Report - Route One Rampage

This is a little past due but better late than never. After almost a year off the racing-scene I finally pinned on a number to participate in the Route One Rampage. It was a last minute call; I rode HED training wheels complete with well used Gatorskins on my aluminum CAAD and even forgot gloves. Clearly I was not in it to win it, it was more of a let's-get-back-in-it. 

While the race is billed as a criterium I will quote a former teammate (Dano!) in saying this is NOT a proper-crit. As in, half the course is a hill of some form or the other. On my preview  ride my inside voice had this conversation:

Start line into a wide right turn. Pedestrians are an issue but the road guards seem to be managing the situation.  Clear the turn and - oh- this must be the hill. Just kind of a gradual grade, nothing too hard. I don't know what everyone is talking about. 

Hard right turn into - OH. THIS is the hill. &*^%. We're doing this how many times? 

I should have brought lighter wheels. Maybe I shouldn't have had breakfast. Oh yay, rewarded with a fun downhill. What the?? Speedbumps on the downhill? Brakes!... kind of a tight turn into the construction zone. Nice long drag to the finish, then back to the hills. 

 It was a very small womens field; 11? maybe? At the start line we were asked if we wanted to go the full 60min or take it down to 45min. There was unanimous agreement for to 45min and off we went. The first few laps were fairly civilized. Then on an attack up with "real" hill I did the greyhound-rabbit thing - chasing what moved and forgetting that I haven't regained the legs to match my ambition. About 3/4 of the way up the hill in full-on chase the wheels fell off the wagon. I drifted through the pack (in the wrong direction) and found myself chasing with one girl ahead of me and Artemis hanging on my wheel. I chased about half a lap and caught the one ahead - letting up a pedal stroke to let Artemis pull though and - wait - what? Instead of pulling through, she accelerated. It wasn't a huge attack but definitely a -thank you very much for the pull but I'll be going now. 


THANK YOU to the fantastic woman on the sideline near the s/f line. She kept shouting for Colavita to keep going, you're catching her, you got this! Every. Single. Lap. And I was catching her. And I was NOT going to give up. Call this my little race after relegating myself out of the real race. 

I did catch her, and the Colativa cheerer sounded almost as vindicated as I felt. Artemis tried to sit on my wheel again and, using my outside voice, I said oh, no. You did that to me once, it's not happening again. I felt very silly but so faux pro weaving left and right on the gradual hill to ensure there was no benefit given. We got to the hill and I picked up the pace as hard as I could. When I came through the finishing stretch the woman on the sidelines announced that I had dropped Artemis. The race wasn't over, though. I picked up an ABRT rider with a lap or two to go. Initially I wasn't going to let her sit on my wheel either (I was jaded, what can I say) but I wound up taking her in with me to the finish line. 

I guess that wasn't a short synopsis but that's how I saw the race. I went in with no expectations but found some of my old -oh-hell-no attitude and even a little spark of remembering why I love this masochistic sport.

Thanks to the UMD cycling team for hosting the races and thanks to Dominion Cycling Photography for the fun photos!

Rambles for a Monday

So here we are. It's my least favorite time of year; the dregs of winter. It seems like spring should be right around the corner. I'm sorry to be a debbie-downer but ... it's not. It's not super cold but it's cold. I dislike being cold. Almost as much as I dislike the overuse of the word "epic". Almost.

In related news, my new house has a garage. I feel like I won the lottery. My car is not exposed to the elements and it's marginally warmer in the mornings than it would be sitting outside. I don't have to worry about these silly strong winds blowing someone's yard furniture on it. The downside is I don't get the free "poor man's car wash" when it rains. Don't pretend you don't know what I mean.

Anyway, the move is complete. I found my scissors. And a myriad of other "lost" items despite myself. There's tons to do in the house but holding an open house at the end of January was a good incentive to finish unpacking those boxes in the dining room and even hang some artwork. My home feels like a home now!

https://thesufferfest.com/pages/app

My one challenge right now is finding places to ride. I was spoiled living in Clarendon as I could ride out of the house with more than a couple options. I can't even figure out a safe commute to Shirlington from Cameron Station right now. Obviously it wasn't a deal-killer but if anyone has suggestions I'd be grateful.

The lack of riding options isn't super important for the next week or so; I've started the Tour of Sufferlandria at the suggestion of my coach. I'm doing it on the rollers which presented some trouble initially; I thank my little bumpers on the e-motion rollers as I found myself steering in the direction the riders on the screen were going.

That's all I have for now ... as I mentioned in the facebook post ... Nothing special here.

The Move

I'm typing right now from my new living room. I'm sitting in a lawn chair that is currently on the exercise mat that usually has a set of rollers on it. I can almost see my dining room table beyond the boxes, bins and bookcases placed on or around it. Believe it or not, this is progress.

The move was on Monday. I did not hire movers. I received a quote from one reputable company and thought - no way, for that price I can move myself. In hindsight I may (absolutely did) not have thought that through.

Closing was interesting. The last time I closed on a house was circa 2002 (?). That time the worst of it was "so it's only you" about a thousand times. Apparently it was as rare as a garden gnome in the Arctic for a 20-something female to purchase a home ALL BY HERSELF. I actually wrote a check for the down payment and the seller was there to countersign - in black ink only.

This time everything was completed electronic-like and I showed up for 20minutes to sign about a thousand disclosures. My signature devolved into a scribble as the pages kept coming and I remarked that each one of these disclosures exist because someone sued someone else for something that wasn't directly stated in a contract. We kill more trees to print more paper because some j-hole was a ... well ... j-hole.That was it. It seemed way too easy, like I was missing something. I lingered for a minute like - um - are we good? We were and so the move began. Oh, and not once did someone question me buying a home by myself. So there's that.

I am without words to describe the joys (ahem) of actually packing all of your worldly belongings into a box truck. The most fun was getting a queen mattress and box spring down the flight of stairs - and back up two flights. That experience brought back the traumatic memory moving in 4years ago. We even managed to match the scrapes against the ceiling on the way down. Oh, and I will gladly buy a nice bottle of wine for the first person to patent handles for mattresses (get your mind out of gutter, I'm talking about trying to hold on to the mattress while maneuvering it up/down stairs). Post edit: apparently there is a solution -of course I see this AFTER the fact. That said, not sure how it holds up when bending corners or going UP stairs. I'll keep my bottle of wine, then.

The first day or so after moving was tough for this creature of habit. My new house has 4 levels (including the garage) and it took more than a minute for me to figure out where I put things and what needed to go where. I was constantly looking through boxes trying to find whatever trivial thing I absolutely NEEDED that minute. For the love of all things good, where the %$#@ are my scissors!?!?!?

moving day 1869

There's an interesting article here - despite my whining above I'm thankful we aren't still living in these times.

My highlight of moving day was a surprise arranged at the end of the day. Prior to and while helping me move a certain someone coordinated with my closest friends to come over. Completely exhausted, beat up, frazzled, probably smelling like sweat and boxes (Yankee candle does not market that scent) I walked up the stairs to find them standing there with glasses of wine, balloons and fantastic hats fashioned out of newspaper comics (thanks to Claudette's creative young'uns.). After the long and sometimes frustrating day I couldn't have wished for a better way to welcome me home.

Thank you, much love and and more to each and every one of you. And to that certain someone- I wanted to throttle you a handful of times during the move and I'm sure it was mutual. Consider yourself forgiven.