All That Matters is Smelling Good

So many weeks have flown by I don't know where to start. It's always tempting to say I was busy, but I'll let the Wise Ringmaster explain why I'm hoping to never use that phrase again:

https://doingthehardthings.com/2017/12/13/singlespeed-psychologist/

I share his feelings on the whole busy thing. If I never have to hear how busy someone is again for the rest of my life, I would be insanely satisfied. Instead of saying I'm busy, from now on I'll shoot for, "I've been incredibly content doing lots of cool shit."

So, on that note- what have I been doing? Well, I'll admit I haven't spent nearly as much time outside as I'd hoped. A torn thumb ligament mixed with some wussiness in the face of the recent frigid temps have led to a lot of this:

Thankfully I can finally hold the bars on a bike, even if it's not in the normal fashion, and it's finally above zero here so I can get my incredibly content ass outside on the bike now and actually get ready for Polar Roll and other cool shit like this mushy creek crossing that happened last weekend:

Yes, I know I should just ride across it next time, but considering that I actually attempted to crawl across while pushing my bike before I stood up, I'll take walking across as a big step in the right direction.

Big E and I did actually get outside for a hike on Christmas Day despite the sub-zero temps. 

Somehow he's making it look much warmer than it was. Of course, he was probably warmer than me because he carried all our stuff on his back. Yes, I am spoiled with my own personal sherpa. Every time I go on an adventure with him I wonder how the heck I actually survive on my own adventures without him to carry my crap.

Of course, there's also been my new obsession, martial arts. Thankfully the gloves protect the thumb pretty well for Muay Thai so I was able to return after a week. Good thing, because now that I spend a few hours a week punching stuff I'm not sure how I ever survived without taking my aggression out before. Not surprisingly, I actually feel a lot more relaxed now. Nothing is more relaxing than pummeling a bag while pretending it's someone's face.....

Yesterday I finally returned to Jiu Jitsu after almost a month off. Coach taped my thumb to a ball to avoid any reinjury.

We call it "The Claw". Of course I realized too late that I should've had him do this after I changed my clothes. Trying to tie a Gi and your pants with one thumb is nearly impossible. Halfway through class my pants were falling down, my Gi was untied and my hair was out of the ponytail and flying everywhere. Fortunately, according to one of my rolling partners, I still smelled good. Thank goodness. At least I had one thing going for me.

From now on, my new Jiu Jitsu tactic is to always smell good. You never know. Maybe it will make my partners less likely to want to kick my ass. Heck, it's probably a good tactic for life. Smell like freshly baked cookies (or funnel cakes as my partner put it) and who wouldn't be nice to you? 

Excuse me now while I go put some lotion on....

My Big Fat Hillside Trophy

The wheels of my bikes have perhaps spent more hours at Hillside than any other trail. They have certainly experienced more types of racing there than anywhere else. Considering the number of firsts that have happened for me there- my first winter race, my first night race, my first 24 hour race, my first time trial, my first short track, my first enduro- I can confidently say that I have also probably faced more fear on that trail than I have in any other place on my bike.

Along the way there have been many uncomfortable moments- insecurity when I know I'll be lapped, terror at the prospect of riding downhill as fast as I can, nausea after unwisely downing nearly an entire pint of ice cream in the middle of a race, dehydration when bottles froze in the winter and when temps reached 90 in a 24 hour race. I've come in dead last there more than once, but it's also one of the places where I've been able to gut out some of my few wins, made possible by the fact that Rich, Jeremie, Sue, David and the crew always stayed committed to putting on races that reward scrappiness (also known as the persistence of those who don't have a lot of skill or speed) as much as they do speed. In other words- they've perfected the art of putting on races that, as the PIC put it last year, "make you question who you are." Personally, I think that's a good thing because, in the end, you end up somehow better or stronger or at least more self-aware-even if your ass is raw, your stomach hurts and your knees are bloody.

Every year, the above trophy goes to the person who has accrued the most points for the year at Hillside. You get to keep the trophy for the year, your name goes on the back but you have to return it the following year. We chicks have never won it. Even though we've gone from sometimes only having 1-2 of us at a race to once having 20+, there still simply weren't enough of us for anyone to rack up enough points to beat the guys and there was only one trophy. This year, since the men's winner was a repeat of last year, Rich decided to add a women's class. Apparently, yours truly gutted out enough laps on that trail to take it home.

Rumor has it I'm supposed to "share" it with the men's winner. However, I was also told that the original idea for this trophy was that whoever had it for the year was supposed to take it around and take pictures of it. That said, Mr. Colbert is going to have to chase me around a bit if he wants possession of it because I plan to tote that heavy-ass trophy all over the place and pose with it. As someone put it at dinner, "She no longer poses for pictures without the trophy."

Funny how some things come when you most need them. After a rough end to last year's racing, I'm now ready to find some new adventures so I can keep the spirit of this thing alive.....and take its picture in some really cool places. (Of course, Big E has already become my "trophy sherpa" since I can barely lift the thing myself.)

Snowventures

Despite having signed up for an ultra running event, none of my winter adventures lately have involved running. At least not running without snowshoes, which I guess is still running, albeit at a significantly slower pace and with the end result of incredibly sore calves.

The rest of this winter's explorations so far have involved either skis or my beloved Max, who was given an amazing Christmas upgrade courtesy of Big E.

One of my greatest winter challenges has been hydration. I've learn to keep my hands, feet and head warm (although my butt is a slightly larger challenge- pun intended) but keeping my liquids liquid has been a much larger feat. Insulated bottles work only down to a certain temperature, and contrary to popular belief, they still freeze even if I put them upside down. The Camelbak inside the jersey, which works for many people, has returned some uncomfortable results due to leakage (not of me, of the Camelbak!) and still doesn't work. Apparently I just don't generate enough heat to keep myself and a Camelbak warm. Enter some new insulated bags from the always awesome J Snell at Barking Bear Bagworks.

I first saw bags similar to these on J Snell's own bike this summer. He uses them for feed bags, but I instantly hoped an insulated version might solve my frozen bottle dilemma. (Yes, I plan for winter in the middle of August.) So, when Big E asked what I wanted for Christmas, I put him in touch with J, who put together exactly what I wanted. They keep my liquids liquid and I can get my bottles in and out with mittens on. What more could a girl ask for?

Cool colors and a place to hang my sunglasses of course!

All in all- one of the best additions to winter riding ever! Now I just need to kick this sore throat so I can get off the couch....

Thankful for the Goodbye

Thanksgiving was an excellent way to begin my goodbye to hate after writing my last post. After all, it was the four year anniversary of the day I met Big E riding with a bunch of people I didn't know on my first Thanksgiving morning in MN. We've continued the tradition every year so we definitely couldn't let this year's muddy snow storm scare us off.

Let's just say Max has been properly broken in.

Overall, the day included an adventure, good conversations and not a bit of hate (even during my heated snowball fight with the niece and nephews). I'd say I'm off to a good start....

The Life of a Million Yesses

I'll admit it- I'm a dork. I name my bikes. Sometimes the name comes right away. Sometimes it takes years. My first road bike, for instance, didn't really get a name until it was replaced with something flashier. It stayed as the trusty commuter bike and picked up the name Old Blue.

I wasn't expecting to name my newest bike right away because, quite frankly, I wasn't even expecting to get a new bike. To be even more frank, I wasn't expecting to get a new bike because I had no money to buy one. However, when Big E, who is definitely the more rational and less likely to jump into a decision of the two of us, told me he thought I should buy his buddy's frame, I listened. (Write this down Big E- I just admitted to the whole world that actually I listen to you sometimes.) Two weeks later, thanks to the generosity of Big E, his buddy, and Ramsey Bicycles, I had sold my trusty Mini Muk, Gracie:

and the new frame had been built into this beauty:

Finally a fat bike that doesn't weigh 1/3 of me!

Thankfully, after I finally bit the bullet to buy it, I picked up some extra work so hopefully I won't be paying it off for too many years! 

Today, I took my first ride. Less than an hour in, I was coming around a sharp corner and realized how easy it was. Cornering has always been my weakness, but suddenly I was where I wanted to be and I thought, "This moment is like a little slice of heaven." I have no idea why I thought that because, as far as I know, it's not a phrase I use often. All I know is that after a couple rough months that involved a lot of tears and frustration, I was finally having a moment when all I wanted to be was right there, right then. I wasn't worried or overthinking things or sad or frustrated. I was just living. 

The next thing I knew, the new bike had a new name. 

Max.

I met Max Lyon over 20 years ago when I went to work for the outdoor education program he ran at The Chadwick School. Like nearly everyone who met Max, I was inspired by him. He was the epitome of an adventurous spirit. Shortly before Christmas 1996, Max offered to drop me off at the airport when I flew home to visit my family. I drove from my place in the desert to his place near LA the night before my early flight and we headed out to see the movie, Jerry Maguire. I'm sure you all remember the movie, especially the scene where a desperate Jerry runs out and asks Dorothy to marry him. Max had seen the movie before so he knew this was coming. He was nearly bouncing out of his seat with excitement when it did. He instantly looked over at me with a gleam in his eye and asked, "What would you say?"

We both knew this wasn't just about what I'd say if someone asked me to marry him. It was about more than that, about what I'd say to life, to risky choices, to big decisions, to loving without regret, to adventures that might change me forever. 

I looked him dead in the eye, laughed and said, "Of course I'd say yes."

That night, when we got back to Max's place, as I headed to bed, Max was still wound up, inspired by the movie and our lively conversation that had followed. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and settled down to write. I have no idea what he wrote that night, but I hope it was all about saying yes. 

Max dropped me off at the airport early the next morning. I never saw him again. A few weeks later, on one of his grand adventures, he died in an avalanche. Like his many hundreds of friends, I was devastated, but grateful to have known him, grateful to have that last conversation with him, grateful to have the reminder from him to say yes to chances.

To be honest, I hadn't thought about Max in years until today, but thankfully, for whatever reason, his spirit was there for a moment to bring me out of my funk and remind me to let the worries go and embrace life. It's only fitting that a bike so perfect for adventures should be named after him.

So here's to new adventures- and a life filled with a million yesses.