Courage Pills

When I was a kid, I remember a distinct time of being terrified before a foxhunt, or any trail ride for that matter. My pony, Sox, hated water. He hated water so much that upon any encounter of a stream, no matter how small, he would poise right on the edge, coil himself up, and launch. If the stream was wide, I was in for multiple, wild launches. Launches that more often than not separated me from his back. He also loved to buck during gallop stretches. I mean, what awesome chestnut pony allowed to run wouldn't? I kept Foxhunting not because I wanted to, but because my dad made me. Isn't that what he bought Sox for in the first place? Wasn't that what well to do children did? Foxhunt on their pony?

Then, a funny thing happened. Sox's leaps stopped scaring me. They became predictable. I learned how to ride them. His bucks became the same. Just another natural part of his stride. My body learned how to adjust, and I started to LIKE his bucks, LIKE his gangly attempts to fly over water. It became fun.

I learned from a young age, though, that I'm not naturally a very brave person. My flight/fight instinct most definitely lies in the before the slash part of the phrase. Yes, it is true that I rode horses. I rode horses for a very very long time. And yes, many times, riding horses tipped me over into territories that made my flight instinct kick in. Still, I rode. But what you may not know is that I never ever became "brave" with horses. I didn't nonchalantly lead three horses in at a time, unworried about getting trampled, or stay unnerved when the horse I was riding tensed and coiled, ready to unleash an epic buck, spin, rear, or other aerial maneuver. True, I still led three horses at a time, and rode through my fair share of bucks, spins, and rears, but they never became non-events to me, because every horse would buck, spin, or rear in a new and unique way. In fact, one of the reasons I ultimately decided to get out of the business was I grew tired of riding the babies, the crazies, the stoppers and buckers and rearers.

Riding a bike, especially at first, gave me the same sort of nervousness that horses gave me. I remember falling over for the first time still clipped in, feeling my heart smash against my ribcage, and my hands death gripping the bars for the entirety of the brief slow ride. In fact, for the first month or month and a half, every ride brought with it the same sense of "uhoh" prior to the start. I knew the only way to get passed such a sensation was to keep doing it, and eventually, the feeling went away. Things became routine, predictable. The same. Now riding on the road is a non-event, and even accidentally toppling over while clipped in (which I actually did two weeks ago trying to get started up a steep hill, don't tell anyone) elicits no panic or fear. Only rage.

When I first heard about Cyclocross, I was stoked. It sounded like foxhunting's bike related sibling. And wow, once I got used to Sox, did I LOVE to foxhunt. Galloping through fields in the wintertime, jumping over walls and coops and trees, taking nips of hot chocolate during checks (periods of standing around waiting for the hounds to come back) while the adults took nips of whiskey, returning to the barn for a hot, greasy hunt breakfast with the rest of your riding friends. Cyclocross centered around bikes, mud, beer, and cowbells. Easily comparable to horses, mud, whiskey, and horns. No brainer right?

Wrong.

I didn't take into account the appearance of my old friend, Mr. Anxious.

Tonight was my first "race," but really just a more formal practice session. I had already gotten used to jumping on/off the bike, and picking it up, so I figured this would give me a taste of the steering/conditions aspect of it.

I geared up, and went for my first practice lap, something you're allowed to do for every race.

In the first corner, a tight one, my compression cap told me it wasn't tight enough by allowing my handlebars to turn without the wheel. I fell, I laughed, I went up to the car and fixed the problem.

I tried again.

I came up to the same corner, turned, slid, but stayed upright, and kept going.

But wait, what was this? Was this nerves that I was feeling? Nerves about what, softly landing in the mud?

I kept going.

I entered the wood for my first ever taste of single track. It was slick. It had some roots. And some rocks. And once again in a corner, my front wheel came out from under me and down I went. Into the soft mud.

Yes, I was laughing, but my body wasn't. My body was getting tenser.

Out of the woods, I encountered another usual cyclocross course offering: sand.

Once again, the front wheel went out. Once again, I laughingly went down. Once again, I brushed myself off and kept going.

Except that my body wasn't accepting the "fake it till you make it" attitude I was trying to impose on it. My body kept bracing for the next inevitable slide or skid. And even though I knew I wasn't going to get hurt, I couldn't shake the nerves.

I did eventually finish the practice lap, and go back to the parking lot seriously debating whether or not to jump into the "race." Part of me started making excuses about needing to practice more solo. Part of me said to HTFU and jump in.

I talked to Cullen, who encouraged me to do the latter (though not the HTFU part), saying that it was the most casual setting I was going to get at a "real" race, and it would be slow going for everyone.

So jump in I did.

But I still couldn't shake the nerves.

Even on the starting section, the section with nothing more than a few slick turns on the grass, I couldn't get rid of the tension and the feeling like I was on a horse about to bolt. Entering the woods for the single track, it started to go better, until a root bounced me off my line and into the path of a tree. I did avoid the tree. I did not avoid the bush next to the tree. I went down, entangling my bars in the surrounding vines. And yes, I was laughing, and yes, I did and do see the humor in the situation. But I couldn't get my body to laugh along with me.

I made it through the rest of the single track unscathed and upright.

My goal after that, though, changed from finishing the race to simply get back to the parking lot remaining upright the entire rest of the lap.

When I did, I pulled off the course.

Prior to this race, I read article after article of the road rider who launched into Cyclocross with zero experience, the rider who fell down a zillion times in their first race but still loved it and loved it the entire race, the rider who was hooked after the first lap even though XYZ happened to them. They were fearless and nerveless. I so wanted to be one of those people.

I am so not one of those people.

But.

I am someone who can fight the flight. I am someone who can do things over and over until they become natural, until they achieve a level of same-ness that trumps my nerves. Sox was the same pony. He bucked, but they were the same bucks.

My bike hit bumps, but I can learn to ride the same bumps. I can learn to ride the same sand. The same turns, the same barriers and uphill runs. Repeat repeat repeat until, like toppling over while clipped in on my road bike, it loses its nerve wracking newness. Yes, the courses won't be identical, but they will have enough sameness to them, in different combinations, that eventually, I can start to have fun.

So while it would be nice to pop some courage pills, for now, I'm going to have to fake it till I make it, whether my flight instinct likes it or not.

Interbike Round Up

The play by play is bogus. So many cool things to discuss, but until I know exactly what will come to fruition and what isn't meant to be I don't want to reveal too much.

But the overall roundup? That is something I can go into. Boy, can I go into it.

In a nutshell?

This industry rocks.

When you go to a trade show, it's impossible not to come away with a flavor in your mouth; a taste of the type of person who makes the livlihood their life. I've been to publishing trade shows, where intellectuals constantly attempt to out intellectualize each other. I've been to high end jewelry trade shows, where "intellectual" probably wouldn't describe any of those in attendance. The former has attendees in rumpled, slightly dirty khakis, frumpy tops, and old Nike sneakers. The latter has women with boobs up to their chins teetering around on pixie stick heels and men with slicked back hair in Gucci suits.

Then there is Interbike.

It's not so much that I didn't see women with boobs up to their chins, or men in rumpled, slightly dirty khakis. It's that none of that seemed to matter.

Cyclists are cool people, pretty much across the board. I don't know how this phenomena came to pass, but there it is. Cyclists are also really stoked about bikes, and not in an uppity kind of way. In a five year old with the latest GI Joe figure kind of way. In a joyful way. The people who work at all the various companies are really, truly excited about the latest/greatest thing that their company is putting out, because they all ride bikes, and they are all excited to get to ride/use the newest, latest, and greatest themselves. I don't care if it's sunglasses, blinkie lights, clothes, wheels, gloves, shoes, socks, handlebars, handlebar tape, tools, lube, cleaners, hubs, stems, messenger bags, spokes, rims, pedals, cleat covers, helmets, cables, cable housing, bells, baskets, racks, trainers, storage systems, cranksets, or chainrings: someone at that show is super excited about them.

What that makes for is a whole room full of mostly cool mostly super excited people talking to other mostly cool mostly super excited people about bikes.

Awesome.

Also, the entire cycling community represented. BMXers had a rail jam party, and dominated their corner of the show with loud music, tight jeans, and ear gauges. The Italian Pavilion was swathed in red carpet, with each bike being presented as a work of art (which they were). You had the townie bikes and the single speeds and the mountain bikes and the road bikes and the folding bikes and the electric bikes and the big names and the small names and the even smaller names and the no names and the so huge we will crush you names, all in one place. Every booth had its own atmosphere and pizazz, its own story to tell. If that story grabbed you, fantastic. If not, you still had the chance to see some amazing new machines.

And that is pretty much that. I wish I had more to say about it in a larger, overall sense. But I don't, I met great people, I saw great stuff, I had a great time, and I learned a great deal.

And, for everyone who is reading this entry with jaded eyes thinking, "She's so naive, just wait a few years, she'll become blasé and bored about it all eventually."

Maybe. But your boredom doesn't equal wisdom, and my enthusiasm doesn't equal naivety.

Interbike: Part One

You know that I know that you know that I hate writing these XYZ sort of entries; however, Interbike lends itself well to that style, so here we are. Interbike XYZ-ing.

Yesterday we arrived in Vegas at 9:30am, having awoken at 3:30am in order to make a 5:30am flight from Greensboro. First event? Fit Kit Seminar with Kyle at 12:30pm.

Until 8pm.

Now before you start to say, "8 hours on nothing but bike fit?" let me tell you that bike fit is perhaps the most important part of cycling. You can ride the latest carbon fiber Di2 Zipp 404 tubular speed sparkle dust speed machine to your heart's content, but if the fit ain't right, you ain't gonna get your money's worth, and more than likely you will get hurt to boot.

What did I learn?

While I want to say "a lot," it's not so much that I learned anything I didn't know before, as I was truly able to see how reliable and easy using the Fit Kit is in order to establish a solid framework for your fit.

I also found out that in reality, I need a custom frame: 53.5cm seat post and a 59.4cm top tube + stem combination. Which is why my seat is so totally jacked up and my handlebars are so totally scrunched up as close as they will go.

Today I got into the meat and potatoes of Interbike, and the day I was most excited about: Outdoor Demo Day.

I took an early morning bus out to the location for a 26 mile Tour de Lake Mead ride, a staple of the event and a ride for which I lined up an Amira S-Works. I met a fantastic woman, Susi Wunsch (www.velojoy.com <--her blog, awesome, go read it now), whose mission was to scope out the latest/greatest women specific items in the bike industry. We talked on the way out about women in the industry, the developments, the atmosphere, the products, and the attitude that surrounds the topic.

A stimulating conversation about bikes with an awesome lady cyclist at 6:30am? There are worse ways to start your day.

Upon arrival, I made a beeline for the Specialized tent, which was already swarmed, and was told that I was expected and I could grab any bike that would fit.

Umm, yes please.

Turns out the S-works Amira was spoken for, so I grabbed the exact model of Amira that I have. Shortly, though, I realized that I didn't come all the way to Vegas to ride what I already own, so I scoped out some more. The result?

An SL3 S-Works Roubaix with...wait for it...

D12.

Cha Ching.

I actually didn't even realize it had D12 until I got it into the stand, because, come on, who is going to bother to put that on a 49cm frame? Thank you, Specialized.

I also felt extremely bad ass because not all of the Sp. team had arrived yet, which meant that those who were there were swamped with bike getting readying before the ride. I asked if I could just put my pedals on myself and get it ready to go or if there was a liability thing and they had to do it. They were more than grateful for my pitching in, and pedal putting on/taking off has become pretty routine for me at this point. I also lubed the chain, made sure it was shifting ok (though I wouldn't have been able to make any adjustments on the...wait for it...Di2), and adjusted my saddle height to 69cm.

The ride itself? Gorgeous. Also more than I bargained for. 13 miles speeding downhill, during which I was more than happy to cruise. Being so light on such a light bike (and I mean probably 12 pounds) and going downhill is actually a disadvantage, because I can't use gravity /momentum as much as heavier riders. No skin off my back, I wasn't there to win any races (though some people definitely were).

So what was the bargaining? 13 miles uphill getting back. And I mean uphill. No mamby pamby rollers. I mean...I mean take Baker's Crossroads, and extend that for 13 miles.

Yeah.

The upside?

I got to spend that much more time on a Di2 bike. Let me tell you, it is not hype. It was amazing. AMAZING. On the way down, for kicks, I went from little to big to little to big to little to big at an annoying light-flippy speed, and the shifting didn't bat an eye. And cross chaining? What cross chaining? What may that be?

Returning the bike was hard to do. While I found my Ruby to be a little flexier than I would have liked, the S-Works Roubaix never put a wheel wrong during my ride. The Dura Ace wheels didn't hurt either, of course.

With the ride out of the way, it was time to actually demo demo. First up?

The Cinelli Strato

http://www.cinelli-usa.com/bicycles/91?build=62780869-1F59-4555-8FBE-124B6A073CEF

I didn't know much about it before I rode it, I had seen it earlier that morning and noticed it was my size and definitely wanted to give it a go.

When I ride bikes at de Oro, I have to admit, they all feel somewhat the same to me.

Not this time.

Ladies and gentleman, I am in love.

This was the first bike where I could actually tangibly FEEL the stiffness of the bottom bracket, I could FEEL the immediate power transfer, I had a different sensation in my pedals and my legs compared to other bikes I've ridden. Going downhill was screaming fast and accurate, cornering was a breeze, and even climbing back up with my rubber-ish legs proved no problem. What I hated was the Campy Chorus on it, wtf, but the bike itself? Magical.

Next up I wanted to ride the new Masi Evoluzionne bikes, but they only had the 56 and 58 frames done in time for the show, so I settled on a Steel Gran Criterium instead.

Poor me.

I've heard that Steel is Real, but this bike showed me how. I know it's not the top end steel frame on the market, but it felt like....like the road had an extra layer of smooth on it. And even though it was a heavy bike in comparison to carbon, it climbed easily. And I know this because I was dreading the climb back up, waiting for mashing that never came. I wouldn't describe it as sprightly on the ascent, but definitely efficient.

Next up? Well, I decided to go try out the competition. Trek. They had a 50cm Madone 6.7.

The result? Underwhelmed. It felt like just another carbon bike, nothing new or exciting like when I was on the Strato.

Of course, by that time, the wind had kicked up pretty seriously, and I was getting blown all over the road on those carbon feathers. I decided that I wasn't going to be able to really get a feel for the bikes since it was all I could do to stay in a straight line, and there wasn't anything else there that I really was itching to ride, so I called it a day in terms of bikes.

BUT! There were other awesome things to check out. Which I did.

LeMond Trainers:

http://www.lemondfitness.com/product_listing/19/revolution-bike-trainer

When Dale sent me an email about this trainer, I got really excited. Though trainers, along with just about everything else in the bike industry, are not my specialty, I thought the concept behind it was fantastic. I've ridden several different brands of trainers, some of them top of the line, but they all felt draggy/muddy/sandy. I was told the only way to steer clear of that was rollers.

Not anymore.

How did it feel? Let's just say it felt so realistic that I kept going for my rear brake to "slow down," only to remember that there was no rear brake, because there was no rear wheel, because it was a trainer.

Also, you don't have to worry about wearing down your tires or bringing an extra wheel to races. You don't have to worry about putting a skinny on your mountain or cyclocross bike. You can just hook it up and ride. And I mean RIDE. Resistance is controlled by your shifting. The bike also has a little bit of play, so there's a more realistic rocking feel.

Yay for LeMond Trainers.

BePop Pedals:

http://www.beboppedals.com/prod.htm

Before you say anything, I know.

Bebops are dork pedalz.

Why, though? They give Speedplay a run for their money in terms of weight (across the board lighter). No, you can't adjust the float, but they also don't pop out on hard efforts due to the cleat design. They have step down entry. They can be both road and mountain pedals. They may not be the pedal of choice for a serious racer, but for the person who walks into your store who wants a do-it-all pedal that can go on all of their bikes? Why not this one? How did they get the cache of "dork" pedals anyways? Say what you want, based on what I saw/read, I like them.

And that's about it for Demo Day. I met up with Leigh Carter at Quality Bicycle Products, a former Greensboro native who used to be a manager at REI before Dale hooked her up at QPB. She was awesome, gave me a good contact person at Giant who I will look up tomorrow at indoor Interbike. It was also just nice to talk to someone who knew the same people that I knew.

So that's that. Interbike Day One: Complete.

Tomorrow:

- Speedplay's Vector power meter

- Chris King questions for my friend Jeremy that will probably be way over my head but the information will nonetheless be faithfully relayed

- The Fashion Show

"That Person"

I've thought about different ways to go about this entry, and since I want to write it while events are still fresh, but my brain isn't firing on all cylinders, a play by play would probably be the best method.

First off, I raced. Yay!

Second off, I crashed. Boo.

Now that the nail biting is out of the way, since we all know how it ended, let's go back and try to figure out how I got there.

I woke up not abnormally nervous. I kept telling myself that racing was going to become a routine occurrence soon enough, so I may as well get used to it now. Just be with the nerves, instead of dwelling on the nerves.

Arrived at the race. Still good. Got my number, changed, went down to watch some of the race, went to start my warm up.

Warm up was also good. Got on the trainer and spun for a while, did 3X1minute spin ups on it before heading out to the road for my three pedal stomps. My HR was maybe a bit higher than it would have been otherwise, but I knew some of that was due to nerves. Cut and paste the link below.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/48775509

Got back, noticed the other two ladies who were warming up with me had already headed down to the start, so off I went. Realized I forgot my water bottle once I got down there. Moment of panic. Water bottle lent (thanks Jared!). Panic subsided.

I went to the start...was I nervous? No, I wouldn't call it nervous. Excited? Maybe. I had zero expectations for the race, I just wanted to see what it was all about.

And, we're off!

First lap, all is well, I kept waiting for it to get super fast/hard like I was warned about, but didn't really find it. I stayed in third behind two super experienced looking ladies, trying to cool my jets. Tried to stay smooth, not make any sudden moves, picked my lines, paid attention to how the other ladies were riding.

There were a couple of attacky placed, and once I was part of a possible three lady breakaway, which in retrospect I should have pulled through and kept the breakaway going, but I decided not to and the group caught back up super fast.

Sometimes I was further back in the pack, but I really tried to stay up to the front, which wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be.

Then came the last lap. I wasn't in the position I wanted to be. Looking back, again, I probably should have stayed way to the inside and tried to go for it, but I decided to stay behind and see how things were looking as we went into the last turn in the back. I was still feeling good.

Then, after the hill on the backside, a woman came up on my right. It was getting pretty narrow. I felt her start to lean into me just a little bit, probably nothing that wasn't out of the ordinary. But I overcompensated. I think I leaned too hard back, and started to fishtail, and just didn't have the skills to get it back.

So off we went to the right. Crash.

All she said to me as we were sitting there as our friends looked over the bikes was, "You got too close to me, hon." She had blood down her face. My knees were all tore up. I asked if she wanted to finish, she said yes, so up we got and off we went.

Of course I feel like an asshole now. My main goal was to have fun. But even more than that, I the unspoken goal, was to not be "that person." "That person" being the beginner in the race who does something stupid and makes it a bad situation for everyone else. I wish I had a video camera so I could actually see what it was that I did. I know I didn't randomly lose my line or lose control of the bike, and I DID feel her start to push on me. Ultimately, though, it was probably my fault.

So what did I learn?

Two important things:

1) BIKE SKILLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED THEM!!!!!! PRONTO!!!!!! I need to go out to a parking lot with some people and just have them bump into me, elbow me, lean into me, etc etc etc until I know how to handle it. You don't get that sort of experience on group rides.

2) Racing is awesome. AWESOME. If there was another race next weekend, I would be doing it. Cyclocross? Can't wait. Next season? Can't wait.

In terms of performance up until then, I did better than I expected to. My HR may not reflect it (look at my HR! WTF!), but I wasn't working that hard. I felt fresh. I felt like I could have REALLY gone for it. I definitely wasn't feeling like I felt on some of the battle rides, barely holding on to the wheel in front of me. There was even some time in the third lap where I was in front pulling, though I slowed down to encourage people to pull ahead of me, since people had advised to sit in the group and chill out until it was time to sprint.

Of course, that doesn't really matter since I crashed. And took someone else down with me. Yes, I know it's a race, and things happen, and it's over now so no used crying, spilt milk and all of that. But when you're "that person," that feeling trumps all the others.

Here is the official read out. Again, cut and paste it:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/48775507

WWJD?

This morning I had a 90 minute ride scheduled in my endurance zone. Easy peezy. The weather was slightly overcast and temperate = lovely riding weather. Since work started at 10, I figured I would be on the road by 7:30, back by 9, showered, coiffed, and prepared with plenty of time to spare. A lovely AM ride. What could be a better way to start a Tuesday?

I calculated my route: with rush hour traffic heading INTO town, I would take the "back door" out of town through Summerfield, heading onto Scalesville where it started at Oak Ridge Rd.

Bad idea.

Without going into specifics, let's just say that I could feel the hatred radiating at me from cars eager to blow by and get to their offices. I morphed from a human being to some sort of evil bicycle conglomorated being whose sole purpose in the universe was to make them a few seconds later to work than they would otherwise have been. I endured 5 buzzes (one of them a hand's breadth of my handlebars), seven angry car honks (4 paired with said buzzes), and one ranting monologue which of course will forever remain a smattering of shouted noise and hand waives.

Irony of ironies? It occurred on a thoroughfare aptly named Pleasant Ridge Road.

This is not the first encounter, nor the first post, to deal with road aggression against cyclists. We have already lost too many valuable members of the community to this ridiculous symptom of entitlement (I WANT TO GET THERE NOW!) that so completely permeates our society.

What puzzled me as I continued my ride, being completely safe on the entirety of Scalesville, Church, and 150, was that most of the cars, I kid you not, had some sort of Christian connotation on them. Either a fish or a WWJD sticker or a church affiliation. Which got me thinking. What WOULD Jesus do?

He would ride a fricking bicycle, that's what.

Think about it. You are the son of God. Your father MADE the earth. Would you really contribute to its destruction by riding around in a gas guzzling car? No way. Your ass would be grass. Jesus would have a sweet fixie.

I would love to get a Jersey made that says in big bold letters on the front "WWJD?" And on the back, "Jesus would commute by bike."

I'm not a religious person. But if I were, I think that God the Father would totally approve.

And Jesus the Son would be like, "Dude! I'm on a jersey!"

Getting Serious

This is big people. I mean, big. Want to know how big? Look at the title of the blog.

That's right. I've taken away "running." Me, the girl who loves to run (and I do love to run). Me, the person who did a marathon with the intentions of doing an ultra. Me, who found her niche here in GSO first through her feet, THEN through her legs. I have decided, for the immediate future at least, not to relace my running shoes.

Why?

Why indeed.

First off, there's my own body. As recent events have shown, I am not Wonder Woman (what? really?). My knees, and other joints, have probably gone through more than I realize, both due to my past activities and my past idiocities.

Second off, there's the bike. I love riding it. Hands down, I view riding my bike as something I get to do, not something I have to do. Running, especially when I was in marathon training mode, never attained that level of "yippie!!"

Third off, I'm good at riding my bike. I mean, I'm no Kristen Armstrong. I'm not even on par with most of the awesome women who live in my area (you know who you are). But I think I've got some talent that could be tapped into.

Fourth off, linked to Third off, and probably Most Importantly off, I deeply desire to become the best I can be on the bike. Not "the best," but "the best I can be." Hopefully, this will turn out to be pretty good. Hopefully, and please do not laugh, this will be good enough to compete in, and win, races.

I never had that drive or desire in running. I never repeated hills, or ran laps, or compared splits, or found out my different paces (5k, 10k, etc etc), or calculated my HR zones. I viewed races as fun group events to be completed, and completion alone stood as the ultimate goal. Winning? Even placing? Who cared? Give me the schwag, the armwarmers, the shirt, the coffee mug, and I was clam happy. Bring on the post race pig out and send me home to bed.

Not so on the bike.

Better. Faster. Stronger. I never knew that there was this type of person inside of me in any sort of athletic venue, but there she is.

And she thinks that, for now, in order to truly focus on attaining her goals of "best she can be" on the bike, running needs to take a backseat. A hiatus. A see you later friend.

Because I can't do both, not really. I mean, I COULD, but then I would always wonder: if five years go by, and the best I can be on the bike isn't as good as I want to be on the bike, was it because of the running?

Fifth off, I've got what it takes outside of myself. I've got commitment in equipment. I've got the means and the luck to be surrounded by people who can actually help me attain my goals. Why not give it 100% on my end, if fate has owned up to its part of the deal?

Now some disclaimers to all who may be reading this post and freaking out, thinking that I will become a waif, obsessed, have no life, or any/all of the aforementioned options. I have put safety measures in place:

1) My awesome coach, Ashley Powell, who will safely and effectively help me turn into an ass kicking machine without letting me kick my own ass for the worst. Only positive self ass kicking is allowed.

2) My amazingfriends, making sure I don't disappear from the social scene.

3) Real responsibilities (a house, pets, a housemate) to keep my sense of equilibrium in check.

So for now, no more running in GSO for me. I absolutely see this as a temporary situation. If after three or four seasons, it's clear that the best I can be on the bike isn't worth giving up running for, I will pull on the Nike Structure Triax+s and hit Laurel Bluff asap. Also, with 40+ years at least of potential running ahead of me, in the grand scheme of things, this off period will only be positive in terms of my longevity.

Goodbye trainers.

Hello training.