Riding, Riding, Riding and Running, Running, Running...

My friend and training partner, Amy, met me in Santa Rosa last night after work for another lovely ride on another lovely day. As she is having some pain from injuries (and preparing for surgery- no good), we decided to skip any climbs and just chat it up from the seats of our bikes.

We headed west on the Joe Rodotta Trail to Sebastopol, looped around to High School Road to Occidental Road, to Stafford and Hall Roads and back around to the bike trail to my house. This was the first ride in which I did not have to wear knee warmers or a jersey with sleeves and it was as lovely as can be.

Hooray!

This morning, I decided to mix things up and headed to Spring Lake after ditching my grumpy kids at school this morning. It has been well over a month since I set out in my running shoes, so I mostly walked and hiked the trails around the lake, running only about half of the 4 mile path. Lovely god damn morning, I tell ya. I am one lucky lady to be living in such a gorgeous part of the planet.

I almost Forgot! Duh!

I am registered!

You can donate and view my donation page here:  http://www.tofighthiv.org/goto/danisavestheworld

I Discovered My Tolerance For Eating Bugs

Another amazingly dreamy weekend of riding from Graton to Forestville, to Windsor and back again through vineyards and pastures and fields of gorgeous fucking wilflowers with my friend, Amy, was followed by a late afternoon/early evening ride from Graton yesterday.

Without a more experienced cyclist acting as our unofficial bike guide through the tear-jerking beauty of the Wine Country, I stepped up and led Amy through a short, 15 mile loop from her home on top of Graton Road to Sullivan Road, back to Graton Road, on to Frei, to Guerneville Road, to Hall, to Stafford, to Occidental and back up the hill to her house, where buffalo burgers sat, waiting to be cooked and consumed along with the Sierra Nevada's in the fridge.

The weather was perfect and we praised daylight savings for provinding our new riding slot just before dinner. As we set out, gliding mostly downhill in the 65+ degree weather, bare arms brushing with the glorious breeze, I had a moment of bliss that spread, in big-ass smile form from ear to ear. Just as the joy of riding reached a peak, however, what I may have mistaken as a swarm of locusts came out of nowhere and began darting down my throat for the following 30 minutes of our ride.

Gross.

As poor Amy's nose inhaled what we were sure was a paleolithic-sized moth, several small fly-like creatures lodged their ways in between my teeth everytime I opened my trap to take a breath. My face was pelted repeatedly with the smoke-thick army of monster insects and by the time the attack came to an end, I had swallowed about 7-9 unidentified creepy-crawlies and was left with slimy green and red inards across my face and knuckles- evidence of the battle that late-afternoon riders are sure to face in the glorious Sonoma County springtime.

Super, duper gross. And, lesson learned.

Back in the Saddle, Revisited...

My bronchial feelers are mostly better, I've discovered, and I am thrilled to be crawling out of yet another 2+ week long chest cold that has held me hostage and away from my bike for weeks on end. That said, I've discovered some things about myself, my time and my motivation and fears around riding this bike.

First, there is nothing more irritating than feeling an increase in energy that coincides with the rising temperatures outside and planning a lovely ride that falls through at the last minute. Several times in the last few rainy/sunny weeks, my new-found love for saddling up on my two-wheeled wonder has been pushed to the back burner because of the cold hard realities of motherhood. I'd rush home after depositing my kids at school, fill my water bottles and stretch my shiny spandex pants up over my pasty white thighs only to have the school call, asking me to pick up a little sick kid. Frustration, I am embarrassed to admit, tends to overshadow the love and compassion I should have for my kids in these moments. I feel like I am falling behind on my training- I feel like I can't meet my goals and fall short in my motherly love during my drive to school. It is hard to shake, that feeling of annoyance, but I let it humble me as it does in most situations I am presented with as a single mom.

Next, the bike has brought some interesting situations into perspective. Both with relationships I have with the people in my life and the relationship I have with myself. On the days that I am sick or slowly recovering from my recurring health bullshit, he sits there, propped against my bookshelves, daunting me like an old vindictive lover- reminding me that I am getting older, that my body can't and won't bounce back as easily as I would like. I want to shove it in the closet, but instead torture myself with never-ending staring contests that it inevitably wins. I tell it to fuck off, that it is an asshole and that "someday soon, I'll show you, mother fucker". I fall into self-pity and start rationalizing this unspoken dysfunctional behavior. I consider throwing in the towel and walking away. Then, just when I am moments away from accepting my fate, my defeat, I start to breath again, apologize for my harsh words and take my two-wheeled wonder out for a spin. Then I love him again. He helps me clear my mind of self-loathing, helps me process my doubts and insecurities about my life's direction and my ability to give into the passion, sweetness and sincerity that I have found with a new lover. He reminds me that I am strong, a survivor- complete with an almost audible "Eye of the Tiger" playing on loops in the back of my mind. He brings out my confidence, makes me laugh and reminds me that I have two legs and recovering lungs that can take me anywhere I set my worrisome little mind to.

This bike has also surprisingly revived an old friendship with my ex-husband. For years, we had nothing to discuss other than the logistics of child-sharing. Now, we compare routes and tires and tips on calorie-boosting and touring. My daughters look on, amused by the conversations and likely in awe of how smooth our transition has been from tense, feuding exes to casual friends with something finally in common.

So I've been back out on the open road quite regularly again. Often, I am alone, riding against annoying headwinds, working through various scenarios and past hurts in my head. Other times, I am riding with friends, through winding, climbing Sonoma County hillsides speckled with wild mustard and chirping birds. I am gaining confidence, speed and endurance and hating myself a little less with every ride.

On The Road Again

I am finally pulling myself out of my dreary winter blues and constant, rotating head colds and back onto my bike.

Today, I headed west on my new bike with my friend, Miles. We ventured from Santa Rosa, down the Joe Rodota trail to Sebastopol, continued west to HWY 116 and looped around back home down Occidental Road, Stafford Road and finally Hall Road until we met the bike trail again. An easy, quick ride was just what I needed to get my lungs working again, and work they did on the first half as we rode against an annoying wind only to be greeted with drops of cold rain on our way back into Santa Rosa.

Plans for this week include another "easy", 20+ mile ride tomorrow (Weds) and my first attempt at Chalk Hill Road in Healdsburg on Saturday.

Damn it feels good to be riding again.

One Step Forward, Fifteen Steps Back

Getting older sucks. Getting older while acquiring a collection of weird and annoying health issues sucks even more.

It seems that the health issues I was forced to address last year do not want to quietly walk away and disappear into the night like I had hoped. Instead, they linger inside, hiding inconspicuously inside tiny crevices, just waiting for my immune response to falter in the slightest so they can forward their advances on my poor, unsuspecting energy reserves. This, along with the inconsistently wet and cold weather, makes training more challenging that I had imagined, and in turn ignites depression and immense frustration.My adrenal glands still hate me and try as I might, the relationship continues to take huge efforts to repair. What others experience as short-lived winter colds hit me like arctic blizzards, leaving a trail of damage in the form of exhaustion that lasts for weeks.

About 18 months ago, I was diagnosed with Adrenal Fatigue, a stress-caused disorder that weakens immune response, disrupts any regularity with menstrual cycles and causes severe exhaustion and depression. After months of following a strict health regime, I felt miraculously cured, although I didn't seem to have the stamina I once enjoyed so much. My biggest mistake during my bout of health was assuming I could treat my body carelessly and bounce back from illnesses with ease. Therefore, I began staying out late, dumping wine and fancy cocktails into my body throughout the summer and pushing my body to run and exercise more than I could handle. Now I am paying the price.

After a recent infection and sinus cold, I noticed that my body was feeling as awful as it had when I walked out of the Dr.'s office last winter. Since Adrenal Fatigue isn't treatable with western medicine without side affects, I decided to dive headfirst into acupuncture and Chinese herbs to get me back on track. I called my friend, Derek Doss and set up an appointment in his new office. After a thorough assessment, Derek determined that in addition to my weak-ass adrenals, I also have Yang and Qi deficiencies. As I stretched out and got needled up, I realized that I have to take it easy and start training all over again if I am going to both heal my body and gain the strength and stamina it will take to ride my bike 100 miles in one day.

I am committed to getting treatments on a weekly basis, which also includes giving myself daily moxibustion treatments, wearing ear seeds and taking Chinese herbs to kick my body back into gear. I am also practicing yoga and re-starting my training by building up to long distances over time instead of jump-starting with the epic rides I had begun last month. With any luck, I'll be back in action shortly and ready to conquer the rolling hills and mountains of Sonoma County.

Yes!

I'm registered!

I'm Sick. Poor Me.

I haven't been on my bike in a week.

It has been pouring buckets here over the last week so I decided to take a day to have some fun and get caught up on some yoga the rest of the week. I even took advantage of the downtime to trade in the fancy Tarmac for something I can actually afford to keep- a very lovely Specialized Allez! I went in to Norcal Bike Sport for my fit on Wednesday and will pick up my sweet new ride on Wednesday to hopefully take her out for a spin to Graton.

And I am sick. Poor me. Sore throat, headache, cough, sniffles and even a super fun new rash across my chest, under my arm and on my back. I thought I had poison oak a few weeks ago and the exact same rash reappeared with a vengeance after a night of tossing back wine for the first time in a month. My acupuncturist thinks it is stress-induced eczema. I think God hates me and suddenly and irrationally cursed me with a wine allergy. Boo Hoo.

Why Am I Doing This? Or: I think I Need An Inhaler.

I have been obsessed with checking the weather forecast, quite compulsively, for several years now. Based on my peek at the 3 sites I stalk regularly, it was supposed to rain at some point today which led me to my decision to take a day off and just sleep in and chill out with my kiddos. I woke at 5am, read a few chapters of "The Uses of Haiti", got more depressed and fell back asleep until 830am, which never, ever, ever happens. When I woke, my 9 year old was asleep next to me and I snuck to my computer to yes, check the weather along with my email. My Yahoo inbox had a message from NorCal Bike Sport's Jen Toland about this morning's ladies ride to Oakmont and since the rain had yet to fall on my sleepy little street, I figured I would get my ass in gear and join them. After all, Jim Keane had taken me to Oakmont on my first ride and it was a piece of cake. I had even rode out that way last weekend with my friend, Amy Brush and again felt that I would do just fine on what I expected to be a leisurely ride, full of chitchat with some potential new cycling buddies. What I failed to take into account was that Jen is totally hardcore and knows I need to be pushed a bit to meet the goals I've set for myself. I was in for some serious ass-kicking.

I arrived at NorCal just as the ladies were preparing to leave the shop, poked my head in to say "hi" to Jim and was off with the group. This ride included five of us and started out much as I expected: mildly paced through Santa Rosa toward Spring Lake and around the lake to Channel Drive. Though I was setting my pace and my body felt good, I was having a hard time breathing, again. Also, I was riding at a much slower pace than the rest of the women, who barreled down the trail ahead of me. Noticing my slower pace and knowing that I was training and not just out for fun, Jen lagged back next to me and immediately started boot camp on my wimpy ass.

"Switch into a harder gear," she suggested.

I complied.

"Another one," she said. "Try another... or two more," she said, while still watching my legs battle with peddling up a slight incline.

"How's you're heart rate now?" She asked, smiling at me while I struggled for air.

We continued east on Channel Drive, Jen's eyes watching me like a hawk. I paused my embarrassingly weak peddling for a split second to catch my breath and Jen reminded me why I was out riding, "Don't stop peddling. You're training and you can't stop moving your body."

Though I appreciated the encouragement, I started panicking about the lack of air I was inhaling. Fuck, maybe I do have asthma. Or worse yet, emphysema!

Suddenly, we were taking a left turn off of the paved trail down toward a creek. This wasn't the same route to Oakmont that I had ridden before and I was hoping that we would just turn around so I could spare myself the embarrassment of not being up to par with these women. As we approached a road with steep climbs in every direction, I mustered up the deepest breath my old haggard lungs could hold and proceeded along with the group with Jen's promise of a coffee break motivating me along the way.

Now, I have been humiliated many times, in many ways throughout my life and felt a definitive and significant slice of humble pie being warmed and ready to be served up as I approached the climb. I started the climb by standing and was quickly shot down to the saddle of my bike, desperately clicking my bike into the lowest of low gears I had to choose from. Jen, suddenly appearing saintly and unlike the drill sergeant I started off with, remained at my side, explaining posture and breathing techniques that would surely assist me in my uphill fiasco. Though her encouragement was sincere and her advice immensely helpful, I hated myself and wanted to stop and throw in the towel for good.

"What in the fuck is wrong with me?" I kept thinking over and over in my downward spiral of self-defeat. I know how to breathe- I have been dabbling in Vipassana meditation for years, have been practicing yoga along with yogic breathing for even more years! I even managed to crank out two babies with the help of my controlled breathing and here I was, on a bike going about .00325 miles an hour on a beautiful day and I felt like I was drowning in goose down. Fuckity Fudge Fuuuck!

I was so close to crying, so close to giving up when I suddenly found myself descending down the other side of the hill, watching a little Benji-like dog chase the other riders into the street. I did it! Now, I prayed, can we just get some damn coffee and get home?

Although I was proud of myself and had a wee bit more faith in my body than I had while I was half-way up that hill, I wanted to quit. I am much better at yoga. Maybe I should just sign up for a yoga-a-thon instead of a 100 mile ride, followed by a 545 mile ride. My asshole ex boyfriend's voice even entered for a second, reminding me I was naive and out of shape and today, I sort of believed it. Long gone are my happy cardio days of dancing all night, or partaking in sex-a-thons with lovers. I am not in my twenties anymore and have done too much damage to my body by spiraling downward into depressions and forcing my adrenals go on strike from years of stress. I was bummed and felt defeated. And shit. I couldn't even head out for a beer to whine about it with friends because the medication I am on will basically make me die a slow painful death if I drink. My life sucked on that ride.

We looped around Oakmont and finally headed to the coffee shop where I was prepared to hand over my bike, call a ride and be on my merry way when I got a text from my friend, Lila:

"I've been following your bloggy blarg. Its super great.
Don't give up! Cuz the devil will be pissed if you do.."

Well, shit. There you have it. Another person having more faith in me than I have in myself.

As we wrapped up our conversations in the cafe and headed back out into the cold Sonoma County morning, I somehow managed to pull my head out of my self-pitying ass and actually started to enjoy myself- and managed to have a great conversation with Annie, one of the women on the ride- without huffing and puffing my way into a coma. Jen demanded, er, uh... encouraged me to continue the Saturday morning ladies rides as I parted ways to head home to my hot bath, Epsom salts and a hot cup of tea. Apparently, I am a glutton for punishment because I willfully and happily agreed.

Haiti

I feel shallow and selfish writing about riding my expensive bike with all of the pain and sadness and suffering in Haiti.

My Bike Loves Sunshine!

I woke up this morning feeling fairly grumpy. With two sick, coughing kids demanding tea and movies and blankies starting promptly at 6am, I felt certain that today was going to suck my soul dry. The irony of a cold sunny day revealing itself just hours after I broke my favorite sunglasses along with the frustration of some lingering health issues brought anxiety and irritability.

After my best friend Michelle (who happens to live across the street) invited me over for coffee,  the day progressed slowly and my kids coughed less  as I sent them off to their rooms with books and snacks. The air grew warmer and I decided to head out by bike while the sun was still hanging overhead. Again, my kids pointed out the multitude of smallish bruises on the right side of my ass while I dressed. And again, I explained the bike saddle's pointy qualities and my inability to stop and dismount the bike without it jabbing me in the cheeks.

I completed my usual arctic-core layering of knee-warmers, tights, beannie, etc and even covered my shoes with my new, ultra-warm neoprene toe warmers before heading out west for a quick jaunt to Sebastopol and back. I wanted to get my lungs working and needed to clear my mind by blowing off some steam. As I darted across my street to the Joe Rodota trail, I noticed that my face wasn't freezing as it had been on all of my other rides thus far. My body also felt more relaxed and although my glasses were broken and the sun glared brightly in my eyes, I felt good.

As I approached Sebastopol, just west of Llano Road, it occurred to me that winter is almost over! The darkest nights have passed, the frogs were croaking away in the creek along the trail and the mustard flowers were blazing in the fields! Sonoma County rules! Although my winter-wonderland attire was a bit overkill for this sunny day and caused me to sweat like a pig, I felt a sudden surge in optimism and joy that the previous cold rides had hindered. My legs felt strong and all was good in my world. All except the annoying people riding doubles and taking up too much space on the trails. Also, I swallowed a huge bug while smiling at some older women walking their dogs,so there was that. Most everything about my body and anxiety felt improved, even if just for that hour of riding in the sunshiny air.

What to Eat?

After getting my ass thoroughly kicked on Sunday's ride with nothing more than a Cliff Bar tucked away in the back of my jacket, I decided to head down to NorCal Bike Sport for some suggestions on what, exactly, I should be eating or ingesting on my rides.

Jen Toland, who fit me for my bike and who has been an otherwise immensely helpful staff member at NorCal, walked me to the snack section and did her best to explain all of the various products to me. I left with a bag of goodies (protien, carbs, electrolytes) which I intend to sample over the coming weeks.

I also picked up some toe warmers for my cold-ass feet and will be using them tomorrow!

My Lungs Are Full Of Cotton And Fiberglass

I have come to realize that although I love the idea of riding the rolling hills of Sonoma County,I am nowhere near ready to conquer Chalk Hill Road.

Saturday afternoon, I enjoyed a smallish ride out to Oakmont via Channel Road with my friend Amy and felt great. Sunday afternoon, however, found me gasping for air over Laguna Road and Westside Road all the way to Healdsburg...and back to Santa Rosa. Sunday's ride was slightly less than fun for me. With temperatures between 40 and 45 degrees, the 45-50 mile ride through redwoods and vineyards- and then against a slight wind for about 10 miles- exhausted and humbled me to my core. Every hill I faced left me feeling as though my lungs were full of cotton balls and fiberglass, resulting in near-panic and all-encompassing feelings of defeat. I really thought I was unable to breathe at a couple of points and nearly turned around to head home. I wheezed throughout the rest of the ride and I am sure the freezing cold air didn't help much. My friends Miles and Leanne suggested that I may have some mild asthma and though I entertained the thought in order to hold onto my last threads of pride, I know that I am just out of shape. I could also blame it on the two weeks Swine Flu I had recently recovered from (to the right is the photo I took of myself in the emergency room last October) and the burning sensations that lingered in my lungs for weeks after, but again... I just need more practice and warm weather to improve and condition my cardio.

I am trying to pace myself and avoiding peering at the map of The Century, which is intimidating to say the least. My new plan is to ride 20-25 miles about 3-4x per week and 40+ miles 1-2x per week until this shitty weather improves. I have also made a commitment to constantly remind myself that I am a beginner and am not training for the fricken Tour de France. I am not even training for a race, I am just attempting to push myself a little and have fun while doing it. We'll see how long the "fun" lasts!

Did I Mention That I Am Out Of Shape?

It was icy cold and extremely foggy again yesterday. I woke with a sore throat and emailed one of my riding buddies and told him I was wimping out because of my oncoming cold when my friend, Noah McBride called and managed to convince me to get on my bike. He insisted that we'd head out on a moderately easy ride through Graton and Forestville and though I was apprehensive about the cold, I headed out to meet him in Sebastopol.

From Sebastopol, we continued west through what he promised would be mostly bike trails with no steep climbs. I, being the wimpy old lady that I am was relieved at the thought of a leisurely ride through the redwoods and vineyards on this chilly Sonoma County morning. What I failed to take into account was the fact that Noah has been racing for over 15 years, goes on several long road rides and mountain bike rides every week and is just generally more motivated and confident on a bike than I am-therefore considering 50 mile rides to be easy and fun. Before I knew it, we were careening down HWY 116 from downtown Forestville toward Martinelli Road, where we turned left onto Old River Road and proceeded to climb what I considered to be some decent hills. From Old River Road, we headed north onto Westside Road and over Wohler Bridge and back out to River Road to Mirabel Road in Forestville.

I am not sure that I can even begin to articulate how god damn cold I was or how wobbly my legs were on some of these climbs- particularly the hills on Mirabel Road. There was a short Twilight Zone period when I was sure that I would start crying, puking, coughing blood from my lungs and strangling Noah (if I could have caught him) and I just hated being on that stupid f*cking bike. I wished that one of the giant trucks en route to the rock quarry would just flatten me so I wouldn't have to endure the humiliation of crawling painfully up the hills ahead of me. I felt like an idiot for trying to do this and thought for sure I would fail, both legs snapping and falling to the side of the road. I had never ridden more than about 25 miles through mostly flat trails and this, I was sure, would definitely kill me.

By some miraculous stroke of luck, the gods were on my side and I managed to make it back to Sebastopol, where I swear the temperature had dropped from the 45 degrees I felt earlier to quite possibly hovering at freezing level. Noah fetched me some soup from Whole Foods and we headed to West County Revolution Bike Shop to chat it up with Rob Dillion and tried to warm our shivering bodies. I spent 20 minutes cozied up to Noah before forcing him to take the last trek back to my Santa Rosa home with me, where we drank hot tea and utilized snuggies to bring our body temperatures back up.

As Noah headed back to Sebastopol, I filled my bath with Epsom salt and hot water and submerged myself after some serious stretching. I managed to ride 46 miles on that ride, which is the longest ride my weak little body has ever experienced and though I hated myself through most of the ride, I couldn't believe that I had it in me to complete it without actually crying, without vomiting my mushroom soup and without stopping once. Today, my right elbow is sore from the tension of holding my arms still and my legs are aching in places that haven't had attention in months. I also have bird poop on my jacket, yet I'm feeling fairly confident and definitely excited about dong it again soon!

Cold-ass Weather = Sucky-ass Training

It is cold. I feel crazy for trying to start this whole training business out in the dead of winter and often wonder, while defrosting my toes, what in the hell I am thinking. At least this morning had a glorious god damn sunrise.

This morning, I rode out to Andy's in Sebastopol with my friend, Eric Acuna. I shared with him my crazy idea of wrapping my toes in the beaver fur that my friend, Trish Wilson had given me over the weekend. Of course, Eric laughed at me until I bragged about how my tootsies were only partially frozen after our ride.

Other than the beaver fur and shorts, jersey, helmet, etc, I layer the hell out of myself with:

*Two pair of wool socks; one pair knee-high, one pair a wee shorter
*Knee Warmers
*Arm Warmers
*Warm-ass Adidas lined, wind-proof cycling jacket
*Specialized wind-proof cycling gloves
*Wool beanie or raccoon-pelt hat
*Tights for over it all!

I was worried about the cost of all of this gear when I first set out, being as I only had some padded shorts and a cycling tank top, but I found everything for cheap at the Bike Peddler warehouse sale or on eBay. My ex-husband even gave me his old tights, some arm-warmers, a vest and a windbreaker when I told him my plan to ride The Century, which came as a pleasant surprise! My most expensive purchases were the shoes, cleats and pedals. The biggest hassle is layering up in spandex in the morning and trying to walk to the restroom at Andy's in my geeky shoes.

Happy New Year From Rainy Armstrong Woods!

Every year on January 1st, I drag my kids and anyone else who has been spared a New Year's Eve hangover and head to Armstrong Woods in Guerneville for a picnic and mellow hike.

This year it was raining buckets and we had to share our picnic inside an old hollowed out redwood tree.

It was a lovely day spent with the kiddos and our lovely friends. Here's to an amazing, kick-ass year full of surprising adventures and picnics galore.