Searching for a Clue

Ever have one of those days where you can't figure out where the hell you're going? In life, I mean? (Yes, look out, this Existential Crisis is brought to you by the Institute for Shambling Through Life Without a Plan, also known as, The Marty School of Follow Your Bliss, Then Get Your Ass Lost.) I mean, seriously. It's like that funny sign I saw somewhere: "This life is only a test. If this were a real life, you'd be told where to go and what to do."

My friend Beth and I were talking about this the other night. Both of us have come a certain distance in our lives and now the progress seems to have ground to a halt. What's next? Beth has no love for her job, although she's very good at it and makes more money than I do in my so-called "fun, cool" job. I don't hate my job by any means, but I'm teetering on the crumbling cliffside of financial instability -- mainly because my salary, for all intents and purposes, is not increasing. I'm the dodo bird of journalism (pun not exactly intended, but I guess it's apt enough) because I actually prefer small-town reporting, and so I've never moved on to that big metro newspaper that would pay me a living wage. But by the same token, things in Boulder have gotten a bit stale for me, and I've lost the idealism that fueled my passion for visual reportage, back in the day. (That's a whole separate topic, there!) And now I've reached a level of stagnation, where I have no money to take any risks in my career without the specter of debt, and anyway, now the whole destination's gotten obscured.

I've always been a person who had strong ideas of what I wanted and went after them-- even if they were dumb ideas-- so this state of not-knowing is foreign and oppressive to me. I fumble about, thinking that moving elsewhere is the answer, or that wholesale career change is the answer, but I can't any concrete ideas about either one. So I periodically annoy whatever friends or boyfriends who are handy with my mental/emotional navel-gazing and tail-chasing. Then I give up and pursue other passions, while I wait for the light bulb to come on. Time passes, I finally notice it's still dark in here. Crap, what's up with that? I grope around for the light switch or something else as quick-fix, and discover that I still haven't the vaguest idea of how to solve my problem.

I've been doing some field research on other careers lately, but none of them really sound appealing either. Can't I just jump on my high-wheeler and ride off into the sunset??

I have to say in defense of my life, though,that none of it truly sucks. I have a really good time with the vast majority of it -- living simply, riding my bike, enjoying my friends and the great outdoors, with little pressure or stress. My job meets my basic needs and allows me six glorious weeks of vacation to immerse myself in the things I enjoy. But the lack of deeper meaning is an insidious beast, sneaking up on me in moments of weakness. Are our lives even SUPPOSED to have a so-called "higher meaning?" Sometimes I think that's a cruel joke to make ordinary people living ordinary lives feel shitty about themselves. Perhaps in reality, meaning is in the details of life; how you interact with the people you care about, how you perform small duties each day, whether you help or hurt the situations in your immediate influence, etc. Perhaps all this big-picture fixating just distracts us from the real stuff we should be doing on the small scale.

Hell if I know, huh?? Now I've just dragged you all into my philosophical spin cycle. There's no shame in using the sick bag. :-)

Sorry About Your Penis

I can't take credit for that great quote... it comes from the unrivaled humor of my friend Akira Yasuda, trials and mountain biker extraordinaire.

But here's my contribution to the FUH2 movement of disgust and loathing of ostentatious consumerism and wastefulness:



Now, I know, this is the height of laziness, to shoot this without even getting out of my car, but to wax photo-jargony for a minute, I like the framing device of my own car window; plus, it gives the viewer the feeling of the H2 blotting out the very universe, as I felt when it pulled up next to me.

Dude. I REALLY am sorry about your little problem.

ASS - fault

Stop the presses! -- I actually did a road ride yesterday. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's snowing in Hell right now. Recent moisture and cold weather have rendered the trails unrideable, so I figured I'd succomb to my teammate Cindy's peer pressure to go on a road ride with her and some friends.

I rode out to Longmont to join them, since I was supposed to be doing a pretty long day, and on the way I encountered a guy changing a flat tire. I slowed down to make sure that he had everything he needed, and he totally recognized me. "Marty! How are you? What's up?" etc. True to form for me, I had NO IDEA who this guy was! He was in Louisville Cyclery clothes, but that didn't clue me in... and he was bundled up against the cold, which made it worse. I made the best small talk I could, then escaped as quickly as possible. He could probably tell with no trouble that I was totally clueless. God, I hate that!

When I got to Longmont, surviving the expected close encounters with penis-compensating rednecks in jacked-up pickups, I found the girls at the Dyslexia Cafe. (This coffee shop used to be called Gizzi's, and was a sponsor of our bike team. Now they're still a sponsor, but out of the blue they changed their name to Ziggi's. HUH??? I'm still waiting for an explanation on that one.)

After consuming some fabulous banana bread, we took some back roads north toward Mead, passing Cindy's Scenic Lake.



We made a detour to find some outdoor johns, but they were locked, which was annoying. After running out of ideas on how to write "These bathrooms should be open" in pee, we took a leak nearby. I recently learned that public urination is considered a sex crime... can you believe that?? That basically means that every runner, cyclist, triathlete, adventure racer, etc etc. in this town in a "pervert." Hmmm... okay, wait a minute... where is this line of thought going, again?

Anyway, I pulled out the camera again and got this response:



Nice. We made our way back to Longmont, and I persuaded Cindy to ride with me part of the way back to Boulder. I was pretty tapped by this point, entering hour number four on the bike, and she was kind enough to tow me all the way back, practically to my doorstep. And the gods must have truly been smiling on us, because a largish group of other riders passed us and were surprisingly friendly. I usually find many dedicated roadies to be snooty; they usually pass without deigning to even say "On your left." Maybe my name is written in large letters on my ass, because one of these riders recognized me, too... my acquaintence Chuck Coyle of the Vitamin Cottage team. He gave me a big wave as they passed.

I was very happy to get in nearly four hours of saddle time yesterday, and it was great to have some social miles with pals, but I still maintain that road riding is not for me. I feel that it has all the physical work with none of the mental/emotional rejuvenation that I get from mountain biking. I love to be in the woods, away from the noise and pollution of cars, where I can stop and hear nothing but the wind in the trees, and see wildlife, etc. etc. And of course I need the mental challenge of rocks and other terrain. Sitting on a bike on the road, pedaling like a robot with nothing else to do just leaves me feeling flat. But the beauty of cycling is that there's something for everyone. From road riding and it's various forms -- track racing, crit racing, road racing -- to mountain biking... trail riding, freeriding, downhilling... and all the more unusual things, like trials, dirt jumping, -- even mountain unicycling -- you just plain can't go wrong. That's what I love about this sport. There's always something new to try if you want to.

One Speed is All You Need

I took a ride on my newly re-converted singlespeed yesterday.



The one gear makes the bike very light, quiet, and simple.



There are many mountain bikers out there, like Zack, who make riding tough terrain with one gear look ridiculously easy. After just cruising around some dirt paths yesterday on this, I really have to give them props. My trigger finger was twitching all over the place, looking for that nonexistent shift level to find another gear. A lot of the time I was either spinning out or bogging down, and my legs were always yearning for their optimal cadence, which I could rarely find. In the world of true mountain biking, singlespeeding really teaches you to refine your pedal stroke, preserve your momentum, and plan ahead. (You also need a very strong core and healthy knees!)

While I love how cool this bike is, I have come to the conclusion that I am not a skilled enough mountain biker to appreciate the extra challenges of the singlespeed. What I really love about my geared bike is it's Swiss Army Knife versatility. I can blaze along the road in my big ring to get to a trailhead, then creep up steep hills and technical sections in my granny gear. And for now, I definitely need all those options!! Perhaps when my skills have improved and I'm finding that things are feeling too easy, I'll revisit the unique experience of taking on every trail, whether smooth or rocky, with one gear. In the meantime, in the world of just getting around town, it's a fun toy to have!

However. In my current situation of two-job debt fighting, I'm pondering selling this bike, most likely by parting it out. I could definitely shorten the time I spend working two jobs, or else pad my savings account, by doing so. While I hate to part from any bicycle I own, especially since this one has an interesting history (it belonged to Allison Sydor, a professional Trek racer who was extremely successful), I rarely ride it. It's mostly a showpiece. And since it's a pretty high-end bike, although a bit older now, it really should belong to someone who will ride it, race it, love it the way I love my other mountain bike.

But you know me... I might give it a few more rides before I make up my mind. :-)

And They Say Money Can't Buy Happiness

Well, folks, I'm going to do the best I can to keep up with my blog, but I've taken on a second job. I have some bills that need to be paid, and the Daily Camera isn't cutting it (surprise, surprise). I've had to start working the desk at my gym. It isn't hard work or anything, but I have to stand the entire time, and that's exhausting. Right now I'm having to work three 14-hour days in a row, and let me tell you, that's not working! My legs are about ready to seize up and fall off, and that's not even counting my actual cycling training. So I'm going to lose one of the gym shifts... that should help.

This gym is a rebirth of the place where I've been working out since 1998, Boulder's Pulse Fitness Center. It was always a low-key place with a lot of endurance athletes and downtown professionals. Very few bodybuilders or poseurs. But then the owner of the Pulse decided to buy out another local gym, Body Balance, and combine the two into this completely new club, just built in December. It's a very nice facility, but it's hardly bigger than the old place, with nearly 500 more members added. Needless to say, it's annoyingly crowded, and more people are joining every day. I'm a bit worried. Plus, Body Balance was the place all the steroid-using, flex-in-front-of-the-mirror, "Oh my god, don't do any cardio exercise -- your muscles will shrink!", overbuilt and egotistical wanna-be bodybuilders worked out. They love to prance and grunt their way around the weight room in half-shirts and lycra shorts, a truly horrifying combination by most anyone's standards. And then the former Pulse members are a lot of lean, skinny runners and cyclists, calmly walking around doing low weights/high reps (oh, the horror!) in a t-shirt and shorts. So I think it's safe to say that these two groups of people are not sharing this small space very willingly. But, everyone hates change, and I think it will all work out in the end. In the meantime, it's fun to watch!

Oy vey!!

Today is a good day! First of all, I made a cool picture before 9am, which sets a good tone for the rest of the day:



Naomi Steinberg, a rabbi from Carlotta, Calif., performs her morning prayers on Wednesday at the Hotel Boulderado. Steinberg was one of about 180 rabbis, rabbinic pastors, and cantors who gathered in Boulder for the 8th Annual Ohalah Conference, a six-day event organized by Aleph: The Alliance for Jewish Renewal. Attendees came from all over the U.S., as well as Israel and Germany, and from all denominations of the Jewish faith. This is the 7th year the conference has been held in Boulder.

And then I got a call from my buddy Troy at the gym where I work out and teach spinning. He desperately needs someone to work the front desk, so voila! I have my part-time job. It doesn't pay that great for the first month, but it will get better after that; plus I can make commissions by selling things out of the "pro shop." This is great, because I was finding that right after Christmas is a tough time to find work. AND it ends the dilemma I was in about my gym membership. I had been warned that as only a substitute spin instructor (the gym bought another one and is under new management) I would have to start paying for my gym membership. Apparently, only the people who teach a class every week get a free membership. But now I've got all that worked out, and some dough coming in as well! I hope to have my moving/car/medical bills paid off by April or May. Come on universe, send some more freelance jobs my way so I can get out of debt even faster!

Quote of the Day

"If everything seems under control, you're just not going fast enough."

-- Mario Andretti

What Is UP With The Weekends???

Why do they go by so fast? It ain't right, I tell you.

I got up on Saturday and headed out on a long ride, looping around the Reservoir and headed up toward Heil Valley Ranch.



I had to stop to shoot a picture of the funky thistle-thingies out there:



It's just amazing how freakin' warm it was. Check out the short sleeves:



When I got up to Heil Valley Ranch, I ran into my teammate, Steve Held, and I gotta tell you, this makes the FOURTH time I've run into him on a trail in the past few weeks. This is either eerie coincidence, or Boulder County is in desperate need of some more trails. It's probably the latter. He thought it was pretty amazing, too, especially since the last time we bumped into each other, we saw no one else.



On the way back, the wind really started to kick up. It has been unrelentingly windy lately. Global warming is upon us!



Then on Sunday, Zack and I suited up to ride again, but some scary weather loomed over the Foothills, and we both lost interest. Plus we were sick of the damned wind. Zack is one of the few people who can make the old-school cycling cap look hot:

Tattooing Has Always Been Fashionable...

....for cattle, anyway.

This was my assignment this morning, and I got the urge to see this in black and white:



This ranch belongs to the Hogan brothers, one of whom was born right behind the spot where this photo was taken.

Living Vicariously

This time of year I tend to spend a lot of my down time at the computer, staring slack-jawed at other people's mountain biking photos. Most of them are from the "Passion" forum at www.mtbr.com. This time of year, everyone does their "photo recap" of the previous year, and there were some nice ones. Some of them aren't great photographers, but I just get jazzed looking at all the cool locations.

I've been to Moab, of course, but check out this sweet-ass collage my friend Rich made:



I've been here, too... Commando Run in Vail, so this gives me a warm fuzzy:





This is Tsali, in the Smoky Mountains... I really want to go here, among a ton of other places:



This is in Idaho, where I've also been, but not to this spot... gorgeous!!



Arizona somewhere:



California somewhere... wish this shot had a cyclist in it:



No idea where this is, but I still wanna be there:



It's a beautiful day in January, but I always manage to still be wishing it's June. ;-)

Money, Tools and the Mysterious Heat

Serendipity strikes again! After I made it a goal to get out of debt, I got a call yesterday morning from Polaris Images in New York. They had a job that needed to be shot in Westminster (yes, I mean in Colorado) for the London Sunday Times. It was for a story about Tomboy Tools, a company out of Denver that makes tools for women... you know, like power drills that are smaller and lighter and ergonomically designed for smaller hands, etc. They sell them through "tool parties," like the old Tupperware parties, at people's homes. This company is expanding into the U.K., so this London paper wanted pictures from a tool party that was happening last night. Luckily I was free to do it, but it sure made for a long day, since I had to transmit the photos immediately afterward. I ended up working from 8am to 11pm... ugh! But I'll make about $400 once Polaris takes its cut, which is way better pay than I'm going to get at my second job.

Anyhow, here's one of the women from the party:



This girl was really funny. When she was told that the drill could be used on masonry, concrete, etc., she asked, "Will it go through bone?"

So after busting my ass all day, I got home and found that my tempermental thermostat was on the blink again, and my house was 80 degrees. I threw open all the windows, but the heat kept cranking, and I could barely sleep from being too warm. But I have no idea how to make the heat shut off!! I turned the thermostat all the way down, but that does nothing at all. Thank god I don't pay for the heat, but it's wasteful nonetheless. Plus it's totally annoying to have a down comforter on your bed when your house is 80 degrees. Grrrr. I always get pissy after a bad night's sleep.

The good news is that the weather is supposed to be great this weekend! I'm long overdue to put in some long slow miles on the bike (as opposed to the long, high-intensity miles I put in during the Moab trip last week), so that's my goal for the weekend.

Zack and I weren't feeling the photo vibe in Moab, so the few pictures we shot are pretty lame. I'll try to get one or two up here soon, though.

Hyperspace Exits

I think I just flew through it. It's called "the Holidays." Damn!

Zack and I hung out in Denver with my family for Christmas, which was fun -- we played Trivial Pursuit and had dinner at The Fort, where all the waiters wear Western clothes and serve you big slabs of meat. The best part of the day, though, was this:



"Luke... I am your father." Yes, my brother and I are Star Wars geeks. We're of that generation, you know.

And after we finally got over all the cool buzzy/whooshy noises it makes, we had to mess around:



Sweet!! (Zack's a good sport.)

I hate New Year's Eve, mostly because I don't drink, and I have fairly low tolerance for drunk people. So I just spent a couple of hours at a mellow party, and went home long before midnight. I had to work New Year's Day, anyway, shooting the stupid Polar Bear Plunge, where a bunch of people jump into the frigid water of the Boulder Reservoir. I guess they think they're staring the new year by doing something "really daring!" Wow!! I sure hope the rest of your year is a hell of a lot more exciting than this, folks. You'll have to forgive my sarcasm... this is one of those events I can't stand to see anymore after 10 years at the Daily Camera.



Four students from Longmont High School, from left, Alex Zuelke, Dan Moulton, Joe Diefenbach, and Mike Best, leap into the Boulder Reservoir on Sunday as part of the Polar Bear Plunge, a benefit for the Longmont Humane Society.

Thankfully, the next assignment was cooler -- the Japanese New Year.



Hiroki Miyake, left, uses a big wooden mallet to pound sticky rice into a smooth paste as part of the Mochitsuki ceremony Sunday at the Japanese New Year celebration on the Pearl Street Mall. The rice ceremony is a tradition in Japan, where its stretchy consistency symbolizes long life and brings good luck to those who eat it. At right is Tak Nagatani.



Yumi Sueyoshi, right, and her husband, Taka, left, play Taiko drums as part of the Japanese New Year celebration Sunday on the Pearl Street Mall.

This was much more fun to watch, and since I wasn't hung over, I thought the drums sounded pretty damn cool.

Anyhow, 2006 is upon us, and since I'm notorious for just living in the moment, I figured I had better make some goals for the year:

1. Have a fantastic year of mtn bike riding and racing. Stay uninjured!!
2. Get out of debt and put more money in savings.
3. Buy a condo or find housing I want to stay in more than one year at a time.
4. Make some real progress toward solving my career dilemma.
5. Work on making more meaningful friendships.

I know, you're aren't supposed to have more than about three goals at a time, but I've got a whole year to work on these things, right? ;-)

Here are some things I learned last year:

1. Nothing matters more than your health. Coming back after a horrible back injury to place 4th in the local mtb race series felt really, really good.
2. Getting abruptly dumped by the love of your life really hurts. But as long as you can ride, it's truly okay.
3. Grab life by the handlebars, and be sure that you're the one steering it.
4. Ride somewhere new as often as possible.
5. Let your legs do the talking, not your mouth.
6. Trust that you can ride obstacles that scare you.
7. A life without regular riding partners is a bummer.

In '06 I'm sure I'll learn a bunch of things I'm not even aware of yet, but I'm hoping to:

1. Clean a local tough trail all in one go
2. Travel to awesome riding destinations
3. Win a race in my category and upgrade
4. Create that group of rock-solid riding peeps that I've been looking for
5. Regain my faith in the world of relationships -- cheeseball, but true!

I hope the new year is a banner one of all of you as well!

No Whining

Just when you think your life is sucky or annoying, you see this:



Cliff shot this last Sunday. Four families were made homeless by the fire, and no one knows yet what started it.

I followed up with the family whose apartment contained the fire a few nights ago:



Anjie Bull, right, checks out the boarded-up entrance to her family's apartment Monday night at 11th Street and Portland Place, which caught fire on Sunday afternoon. Left to right are Isaiah Danaher, 14, Matt Roper, and Oaklie Bull, 10. Danaher was seeing the damage for the first time, since he had been out of town when the fire happened.

They're holding up surprisingly well, but still, that is a huge drag. Luckily tons of people from the community are stepping up, offering them a place to stay, replacing their Christmas presents, etc.

This of course gave me memories back to my own house fire, in 2001. Thank god for renter's insurance! Too bad this family didn't have any.

On a happier note, the weather here is getting fabulous and warm! I'm hoping to have a fun weekend of riding around Boulder, seeing the family in Denver, and then perhaps taking off for Moab on Monday. Yahoo! Then I'll finally have some fun pix for the blog. ;-)

Yo, Word.

Dig this white-boy 'fro:



I know, I know. You all want my job.

Random Oddities

I know I've been slacking on my blog, but there just hasn't been much of interest going on. I'm on a later shift at work, which usually results in mind-numbing assignments like meetings and high school sports. Nobody wants to see that stuff.

There IS one picture from tonight's girls basketball game that's amusing, however:



For my friends that don't know about this, my brother nicknamed me "Biz" when we were really little. No one knows what it means. But dammit, I'm one of the team!!

In other corny but entertaining news, I have another wonderful commemorative item to add to my collection. This beauty came to me from our race team party after the State Championships, where I was awarded the "Best Teammate/Best Supporter" award (you know, the "jock strap" award). I probably got this award for all my hollering, hooting, cat-calling, and other annoying vocalizations at the summer short-track races. I also received a pound of coffee and a "growler" of beer from two of our team sponsors (nice sponsors, huh?). I gave the coffee to my roommate, who actually chokes down Folgers every morning, and the beer went to my friend, teammate, and coworker at the Daily Camera, Jeremy. But of course I kept this nugget for myself:



My teammate Cindy won a gorgeous engraved-Lucite golfer for "Most Improved Rider." It's pretty safe to guess that one of the team directors scored these things that morning at a thrift shop. The best part is that we have to hang onto them, to pass on to next year's winners.

Lastly, I've been reading the blog written by my friend Nick Martin, who runs the Trek Rocky Mountain racing team, and quite frankly, it's depressing. I want to be 24 years old, a sponsored mountain bike pro who has no other job but to ride all day, dammit!! (If you have time, check out his blog; naturally it's a lot more interesting than mine.)

So in a desperate attempt to imitate his fun-filled winter training rides, I cast around for someone to ride with this morning. Luckily I found "someone" -- Andy Hampsten. (The fat slacker who was the only American to win the Giro d'Italia... no big deal.) We did the coffee-shop meeting and then headed out on our 'cross bikes. While Andy's custom "Mud Pig" (so called because his bike-touring company is named after Italy's famed wild boar, the Cinghiale) has water bottle bosses, he doesn't have any cages on the bike. So he asked me to be his domestique and carry his water. As you might know, domestiques are the "helpers" in road racing, the underappreciated, ass-busting no-names who ferry water and food to the important guys as well as block the wind for them, wipe their butts, do their taxes, change their kids' diapers, etc. etc. But I digress. So I put Andy's bottle in my second cage and we set off, heading toward the dirt roads north of town. (I'm allergic to asphalt, as many of you know.)

The wind turned out to be HELL-acious, due to a cold front heading in. (Or is it just that Boulder is windy every god-forsaken day in the wintertime??) We had to literally yell at each other to be heard. We still managed to talk about movies, flying in small aircraft, Andy's plans to remake wool cycling jerseys as well as retro 40's and 50's clothing, and any number of other things. Of course, I talked in strategically small sentences to hide the fact that I was getting totally gasping from fighting into the wind.

And suddenly Andy's arm shoots into the air and he turns to look behind him while he's riding. It takes me a second, in this setting, to recognize the classic body language of a pro rider waiting for help from the team car -- needing water, a spare wheel, a pat on the ass, etc. I start cracking up, but let him hang there. Finally he bellows, "CAIVANO! Where's my water??"



This picture is after he was properly hydrated, of course. He went on to tell me a story about his days on the Motorola squad, when a cyclist named Raul Alcala was the big shot. Raul kept insisting that Andy and another domestique stay with him, even though they were at a good strategic point in the race (a flat spot) for one of them to go back to the team car for liquids. Of course, Raul waited until the road went steeply uphill to demand a Coke. (The riders drink them for the caffeine boost.) So Andy went back for the Coke and ferried it to Raul, without complaining about having to slog up the steep section of road twice. But Raul went postal, threw the Coke off the side of the road and screamed, "I wanted a COLD one!!!"

And you thought basketball players were prima donnas.

And dammit, that pesky Nick Martin doesn't have this story!

I'm a Champion!!

Sort of. Okay, not really. But kind of.

This past Saturday was the cyclocross State Championships, and even though I've been down with a cold for almost all of the past two weeks, I was feeling ready to race. Yeah baby! Last race of the year, last race of my season until late May 2006... gotta make the most of it. Even though it was a bit chilly and windy, it was a great day for racing in December.

I was feeling pretty decent and riding hard, but everyone pulls out all the stops at States, that's for sure. It was at Xilinx, the same joint as two weeks ago, with a slightly different course. This time it routed through the deep-sand volleyball pit, which is not very fun. But since Colorado 'cross is extremely dry compared to racing on the coasts, the promoters feel like they need to throw in whatever they can to worsen the conditions. It's a European sport, with a storied tradition of suffering in the cold and wet, so it's perceived as lame if the course is too dry or easy. Then they figure it's too similar to short-track mountain bike racing. Anyway, bike racers are masochists, there's no way around it. ;-)

Here's me not looking too wrecked:



(props to Beth Jordan for the sweet pix!)

So I busted ass as hard as I could, but could tell from the start that I was wasn't going as well as the last race. My fitness has definitely decreased due to illness and the onset of winter while I was working a very inconvenient shift at work. Damn jobs; why do we have them, anyway? But at least I didn't get passed by the women pros. They usually lap me right at the end of the race, but this time I managed to hold them off.

Is that a smile or a grimace?



I finished 5th in the 35+ category, which then brought me up to 3rd place for the series -- yahoo!! I was very happy. If I hadn't missed one of the races in late October, I might have done even better, but nonetheless I think that's a great finish for me. Cyclocross is very new to me; I only started doing it last year. Next year I'll actually DO the running workouts my coach prescribed for me, and I'll perfect my remount -- yeah! And then maybe I'll be able to haul the mail! ;-)

As I was hanging around with my teammate Cindy (who placed 4th in the series!) while we waited for our prizes, a friend of mine called out, "Hey Marty, you've got a medal over here." I went over to the official's table (these races are run by the American Cycling Association), and sure enough, there was a bronze medal in an envelope that had my name on it. Cool!... but I didn't get it. I came in 5th, not 3rd. The official had to explain to me that two of the women in the top 5 did not hold full ACA racing licenses, so for the State Championships their results are dropped, which moved me into third place. So basically, although I didn't literally earn my 3rd place medal, I got rewarded for kissing the ass of The Establishment, so to speak. ;-) Well, I've got very few tangible items to show off my racing results, so I guess I'll take it and try not to feel like an opportunist. Schwing!

Here's the medal, with Cyclocross Guy in full swing (and my still-dirty bike as the backdrop):



Cheesy, but still... it's a reward for many hours of blood, sweat and gears.

Happy Turkey Day, Everyone

I had originally planned to spend the weekend in Fruita, mountain biking with Zack, Cindy, and her husband Matt. But the cold I caught last weekend continued to smack me around, so I decided against traveling anywhere. Instead, Zack and I had Thanksgiving dinner with a couple who are also my teammates, Peter and Patsy Shaffer. They're funny people who sure know how to cook a good turkey, as well as a slam-dunk pumpkin pie. Yum!
We spent the rest of the weekend in a fairly mellow fashion; I had to ride at least a few times because the weather was so nice, even though I didn't feel 100%. Now is the time of year where I'll ride Hall Ranch a zillion times because it's always pretty warm and dry up there, plus the trail is a blast.

A man and his shadow:



Rippin' it up on the singlespeed:



Who doesn't like a cyclist's legs?? I ask you...



While we heard that the weather in Fruita was crappy, it didn't stop Zack and I from feeling restless. I wish we could fast-forward to summertime, and win the lottery so we could mountain bike in British Columbia for a month, and then spend a month riding through Italy. Dammit! Winter sucks. But then I have to remind myself: this isn't what Thanksgiving is about! It's about being happy with what you have. I live in a beautiful place; I have my health (for the moment, anyway!); I have family, friends and boyfriend that I adore; I have a job; I have my passion for cycling, which encompasses the joys of fitness, competition, friendship, and travel all in one; and I live very comfortably. I haven't a thing to complain about!
And best wishes to all of you, too!

Cyclocross Is Not For The Faint of Heart

Another great race, this time at the Xilinx campus out near Longmont. This course is a blast, with off-camber turns twisting through trees, the requisite steep run-up, and some really big log barriers. This company, whatever they are, is really great to hold races on their property. They even open one of their buildings for us, so we can use real restrooms instead of port-a-johns. And the registrars, who usually freeze their asses off under a tent in a parking lot, got to sit in front of a fireplace in their shirt sleeves. I've gotta say, it makes them a lot friendlier. So, on to the race...

Look out folks, we've got another shooter in our midst -- Zack took some awesome photos of my teammate Cindy and me:









Luckily, what you don't see in these photos is the fact that I dropped my chain on the first lap, trying to remount in a really choppy spot. I managed to chase back up a few more places as the race went on, but as usual, I didn't get a thorough warmup and wasn't feeling that hot. But I was really enjoying the technical aspects of the race, and that always keeps me smiling. I was duking it out with two women who were obviously road racers... they would speed up and pass me on the paved sections, and then slow to a crawl when the dirt sections arrived. I'd pass them back, and put some time into them, but as soon as I had to face the wind on the pavement, I couldn't stay ahead of them. The smaller you are, the more the wind pushes you, and both of these girls were bigger than me. It was motivating, having to pass them twice every lap. So finally, on the last lap, I passed them (both in turns, which is pretty cool, I thought) and managed to hold them off. It was really great to actually have some action within the race; usually I get isolated somewhere in the top ten and feel like I'm racing by myself.
The other motivator was Dave Towle, the announcer. He's very good at what he does, and in fact, he announces at many of the biggest races in the U.S. It's a pleasure to have him at a local race, because he keeps the energy up and makes everyone laugh with his funny comments. Zack got a picture of him:



He tends to announce my name a lot when I'm racing, because he knows me and I'm someone he can actually recognize and say something about. I mean, he's gotta fill a lot of air time during the 45 minutes of our race, and once the pro women go by, he's probably hard up for anything to say. One lap when I went by, I heard him say that I was "breaking legs all over the course" and Zack heard him call me the "wattage cottage," which cracks me up. He always tells everyone I'm a photographer for the Camera... I'm never sure if that makes people think less or more of me, ha ha.

Anyhow, I managed to pull off an 8th place in the combined Category 4/35+ group, which translated into 3rd place in the 35+ only. Yay, a podium finish! Hey, do I win anything?? I'm not sure. Doubtful. Just bragging rights among the other old chicks. ;-)

Then on Saturday night, Zack "The Pyro" Price and I enjoyed a fire in my fireplace, the first time I've had a fire in my house that wasn't accidentally set by a roommate. Unfortunately, I had only brought in some wood that morning, so it really wasn't dry enough to burn well. But hey, it was still pretty fun to light all those Daily Cameras on fire.
Here's what Zack thinks of my desire to document my first-ever (intentional) house fire:



I am extremely privileged to report that I now have a Christmas tree, courtesy of Zack as well. Not only that, it was decorated by him, too, with the only thing he could find around my house: cycling gloves.
Behold... and be awed by.... The Glove Tree:



Ahhhh... life is good. Even if I got sick within hours of that 'cross race... sore throat, congestion, etc., all over again. It's just hard on the body, I tell you. Joe is sick too, so I don't feel so bad. It happens to us all.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Making Cookies Out of Dog Shit

Do I have that right, Zack? I think this is the phrase one of his coworkers uses. And I plan to adopt it as the Daily Camera photographers' slogan because it's so amazingly appropriate.

I got sent over to this dorky little ice rink that opened today, with the added pressure of being asked to make a front-page picture, and guess what? Nobody knows it's open. Plus it's a gorgeous day, the kind that would motivate you to hike or run, not ice skate. For hours I sat by an empty ice rink, getting more and more bored. Finally a lone woman showed up, but she could barely stay upright on her skates. She was extremely slow-moving and tentative. Not that I could do any better, since I haven't ice skated since middle school, but she was not the best subject for a desperate photographer. Then I noticed that the warmth of the day had created a puddle of water on the surface, and I finally had a photograph:



It just figures that in the next day's paper it was the lead photo on the front page, but my co-worker Mark Leffingwell got credit for it. It's like a little microcosm of what happens in life sometimes... you bust your ass making cookies out of dog shit, and then someone else, usually someone who skates through life with very little effort, gets credit for your hard work. But hell, my job is still way better than most!!

Catching Up

Sorry folks, I had a busy week. Plus I kept forgetting to carry my little happy-snap camera to things over the weekend... rats!!

Anyway, here are some photos from work.... Friday was Veteran's Day, with a parade in Longmont. I really enjoy talking to all these old guys, who just light up when they see the parade.



Michael Benavidez, right, and Greg Emery, center, U.S. Navy recuiters from Longmont, thank Ed Yusko for his service in World War II during the Veteran's Day Parade on Friday in Longmont. Yusko survived a kamikazi attack on the USS Nashville on Dec. 13, 1941, an attack that killed 133 and wounded 190. That ship was part of the first U.S. attack on the Japanese mainland, called the Doolittle Raid, after Pearl Harbor in 1942.

And it's funny to watch the little kids go nuts, too:



Ethan Mitchell, 6, gets excited after spotting several military vehicles during the Veteran's Day Parade on Friday in Longmont. He and his classmates at the Longmont Christian Kindergarten stepped outside their school to see the parade of bands, marching veterans, military vehicles, and fire engines.

This kid was just stunned into silence by all the pomp and circumstance and really big machines:



I spent the weekend riding a lot -- did a two hour 'cross type ride on Saturday, and then an awesome mountain bike ride with Zack and my team on Sunday at Hall Ranch, one of my favorite technically challenging rides near Boulder. Even though I was feeling kind of tired, I perked up enough to do a decent job with all the rocks and ledges. Schwing! I wish I'd shot some photos, for sure. This weekend is a cyclocross race at Xilinx, an industrial park that actually provides a really fun course. I'll definitely get some photos from that!