Knee is all better; thanks to lots of ice and small amounts of ibuprofen.  Bike is in shop, getting an overhaul and (hopefully) fenders.  Replacement for the dynamo light is in the mail, winging its way toward me.  I am feeling slightly panicky, only because of the bike being in the shop; I’m quite certain that my fitness is draining away and I’m turning into a giant sloth.

It’s a gorgeous, beautiful day; I can’t bear the thought of the trainer.  Maybe I’ll force the offspring to go with me for a trail ride on the neighborhood bikes this afternoon . . . it’s not quite the same, but better than sloth-dom.

There is no title, primarily because I can’t think of one.  It’s 10:51 on Sunday morning, and clearly, I’m at the computer instead of on the bike.  I’m okay with this; in fact, I think it’s a very good plan, and I’m very happy to be here, rather than OUT THERE. 

Ride report:  Long ride yesterday.  Longer than 300k, because of a missed turn.  Felt even longer than it was, because of the 12,000 feet of climbing, massive dog anxiety, spitty rain all day, and completely inadequate lights (I want my dynamo back!).

Facts and statistics:  Total time of 15 hours, 37 minutes.  Started at 7 am, finished at 10:37 pm.  Rode with some very nice new people–Ron from the Chesapeake Bay area, Joanne from Durham, and about 100 miles with Bob from Va. Beach.  Couldn’t have done it without you, Bob–thanks for keeping me pedaling.

Dogs maced:  2.  Dogs hit in the face with Fig Newtons:  1.  Packages of Fig Newtons sacrificed to dog deterrence program:  1.  Records broken:  1 (for the world’s longest pee, which was unfortunately taken while squatting in a bush in the dark after riding more than 165 miles; I was desperately afraid of falling over mid-stream).  Meals skipped:  2 (lunch, because it would’ve taken valuable pedaling time; better to eat on the move, and dinner, because I was too, too tired at 11 last night).

Lessons learned:
–Reflective stickers do not work well on rims, especially the part of the rims that the brake pads contact.  Luckily, it seems to be the stickers that do not survive, as opposed to the brakes.
–Hardee’s has a sandwich called the Hot ham and cheese.  The word hot, it turns out, really does matter–a ham and cheese sandwich that’s been cold and damp for an hour is not at all appealing.
–When you take off your rain jacket while pedaling and stuff it into your handlebar bag, turn the sleeves right side out, for Murphy’s law clearly states that removal of rain gear guarantees resumption of rain, and you will get well wetted while trying to figure out how to right the sleeves on a 20 mph descent.
–Descending in pitch black (rainy) dark is no fun.  Oh, wait–I already knew that one (see early blog posts regarding 2003 brevets).
–When all else fails, buy a Twix bar and look on the bright side (even when you have to dig deep in the memory banks to see anything bright!).

So why am I here, propped up on my bed with lots of pillows, an ice pack, and a laptop, instead of slogging it out against today’s stiff wind?

At some point yesterday, something in the back of my right knee started really hurting.  You know if you bend your knee you can feel two thick cordy bits pop out on the back of your knee, one on each side?  I’m not sure what they are; tendons, I’m guessing, but that’s only a guess.  Well, the one on the inner side did something funky, and hurt for an hour or two.  I was wriggling and shifting on the saddle, trying to adjust to change the pressure on it, but there wasn’t much I could do.  It was pretty early on in the day, and eventually I just stopped noticing it.  After the ride, I got in my car to drive home, and when I tried to get out, I couldn’t stand up straight on that knee.  It’s sort of stuck at a bit of an angle; I can’t really bend it to sit comfortably, but I also can’t really straighten it out.  It’s not excruciating; it just feels sort of big and swollen and very stiff, kind of like a sprained ankle.

So I decided that at two weeks and counting until brevet week, my best bet is recovery.  I’m trying to focus on all the training I HAVE done, and not worry about what I’ve missed.  So here I sit.  I think there might be a nap in my afternoon.  And maybe some nice, tame knitting . . .

Here’s the plan:  I’m going to ride Al Johnson’s brevet tomorrow, the 300k option, and then ride another 300k by myself on Sunday.  This was Mr. Helpful’s idea; I was going to do 100 miles a day for five days in a row, but he thought I’d be better off doing just two longer rides with minimum rest in between, to mimic the wall I’ll probably hit toward the end of Wisconsin week.

Hmm.  I’m not worried about the first 300k; that’s a reasonable jump from 200k, which I’ve done twice.  But two days in a row . . .  That’s 600k.  Umm, that’s a lot of miles–360, to be exact.  That’s the longest brevet.  Last time I did that all in one weekend, I got a total of two hours of sleep.  Hmm . . .

Needless to say, my anxiety level has been pretty high the last couple of days.  I figure that today I need to get everything ready for both days–measuring out little baggies of Accelerade powder, making sure all the clothes I’ll need are clean, plotting a route for Sunday, all that stuff.

And I’m having a light problem.  I put my handy-dandy dynamo wheel on my bike on Tuesday, attached the headlights, and went for a ride at about 9:30 that night.  The primary light was way too dim.  So Wednesday I changed the bulb and tried again.  No luck.  Something’s wrong in the back of the light where the base of the bulb is supposed to contact the electrical bit of the light.  Being electronically challenged myself,I have no idea what to do about it, so I emailed the shop that I bought the system from 4 years ago.  I haven’t heard back from them yet, so I guess I need to go swap wheels again and dig out the battery operated light.  I’m less than thrilled; hopefully I’m faster than I was four years ago, because I don’t relish the thought of an all-night ride without my trusty dynamo–batteries run out.  Maybe I’d better go stock up on spare batteries.

Okay.  My to-do list for today is officially getting out of hand.  I’d better get to work.  If anyone’s looking for a someone to ride (slowly) with on Sunday, let me know, ‘cuz I’ll be pedaling . . .

I really, really want to go knit something pink and fuzzy now.

Mr. Helpful says I need to blog, so here goes.  Only problem is, I don’t have much to say.  I did something dreadful to my back yesterday, causing it to go into a spasm, so I’ve spent the last 36 hours hobbling around the house being grumpy.  I think I’ll go take some more Tylenol PM . . .

I missed a couple of weeks of blogging there–just a quick backtrack–I had several days of single parenting, a mild stomach bug (probably not even a bug; probably just something I ate) that caused me to miss a 200k that I had planned to do, and then about 10 days of NO INTERNET.  It was hideous.  Catastrophic.  I can’t even remember how to mail-order properly without the internet . . .  I have some distant shadow of a memory that might have involved buying things on the telephone?  Sounds prehistoric.

Anyway, by the time we got the computer thing straightened out, I was feeling a need to put in big miles on the bike, so I rode a century, then a few days later a 200k (to make up for the one that I missed)–both solo!  More than the miles, the solo-ness is a point of pride for me.  Long distances ridden alone intimidate me–but not anymore!  Anyway, suffice it to say I’ve been riding.  Brevet week starts in less than three weeks, so this week is the end of my volume; I’m going to do two more long rides, this Friday and Saturday, then taper.

But here’s the weird phenomenon–I’ve taken up sewing.  And knitting.  To an extreme.  Today I sewed myself an adorable spring bag; last weekend I knitted dishcloths for the kitchen. 

I remember, when I was training for PBP in 2003, that I played with beads all the time; I made TONS of earrings, along with some bracelets and necklaces.  I was totally obsessed, constantly plotting jewelry ensembles that I could make to accessorize various outfits.  When I wasn’t on the bike, I was hanging out in bead shops.  Now it’s fabric shops and yarn stores.

I think it’s a coping mechanism, some sort of anti-testosterone uber-housewife thing that wakes up when I spend lots of time away from home training really hard.  Today I got out a bunch of jam jars, in preparation for picking strawberries tomorrow.  I’ve concluded that the best strawberry jam is the one from Nigella Lawson’s How to Be a Domestic Goddess.  I’ve had fabulous personalized pink and purple labels printed up for the jars.  Now all I need is the berries . . .

AACK!  I’m turning into Martha!

When I’m out for a long ride, I stop to go to the bathroom and refill my bottles every couple of hours or so, usually at gas stations.  People often ask what I’m up to during these stops, and often seem genuinely interested (perhaps just appalled?!) when I rattle off some insanely large number of miles.  But occasionally I get a strange response that makes it clear that the person has no grasp of what I just said–no inkling that it’s a bit unusual to ride a bicycle, oh, say, 90 miles.  I had two of these conversations day before yesterday, and I just wanted to document them before I forget–both kept me chuckling as I headed on down the road.

(More life updates–and excuses for lack of blogging–later.)

First conversation (at my first gas station stop, about 30 miles into the ride):

Man:  So how far you ridin’ today?

Me:  125 miles.

Man:  You don’t say.  You do that every day?

Me:  Ummm, no.  Just sometimes.

Man:  Ah.  You in the service?

Me:  (wearing a purple and white jersey; definitely the military desert camo look)  Nope.

Man:  So what’d you do this for?  Just your own exercise?

Me:  Yep.  (Big grin–trying to look non-threatening at this point)  It’s lots of fun.

Man:  Hunh. 

Pause.

Man:  Hey–I know who you are.  You’re on TV.

Me:  Umm, no, not me.

Man:  Yeah, you are!  I knowed it when I saw you; I thought, that’s my favorite bicycle woman I like to watch on TV.

At this point I give up on responding, and just go with smiling and nodding.  Then I get on the bike and beat a hasty retreat.

Later in the same ride (much, much later), I’m in a different gas station.

Woman at the cash register:  How far did you ride today?

Me:  Well, I’ve been 110 miles so far.  I’m getting kind of tired, but I’m almost home.

Woman:  Yeah?  Where d’you live?

Me:  Cary.  (for the record, my house is exactly 15 miles away, nearly a straight shot.)

Woman:  Cary?  You rode from Cary to here on a bicycle?!  No way!

Me:  Umm, I’ve been 110 miles today.  I started in Cary, but I’ve also been to Morrisville, Apex, Holly Springs, Angier, and this is my second pass through Fuquay.

Woman:  I can’t believe you rode all the way from Cary.  Hey, isn’t Morrisville like, near Durham or something?

Me:  Well, yeah, sort of.

Woman:  I can’t hardly drive to Durham but it makes me tired.  And you rode a bicycle?

Me:  You could drive from here to Durham and back again–twice–in 110 miles.

Woman:  Naw!  Get out!

So I did.

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Okay, I’m a total slacker.  I’m starting to get complaints from friends and family who keep up with me through the blog, so I guess it’s time to come back to real life.  We got back yesterday (Thursday) afternoon from a week in Miami, during which I didn’t even look at my email.  Mr. Helpful very helpfully reported to me that my loyal readers are starting to grumble, so here’s my apology for my two week hiatus–sorry about that.  I was . . . busy.  Then distinctly not-busy.

I did the Sauratown 200k on 3/24 (that’s two weeks ago tomorrow; today is Good Friday), and had a GREAT day.  The weather was spectacular, even slightly warm in the afternoon; the scenery was beautiful, the roads were quiet, the dogs were mostly sleeping . . .  it was just a really, really fabulous ride.  I drove up by myself on Friday evening and spent the night in a hotel, and by the time my alarm went off at 5:30, I had worked myself into quite a state of anxiety.  I had to keep reminding myself to stay in the present and not worry about longer rides further from home.  (You’d think I don’t like to travel; I do–I just like having my people with me!).

I didn’t have any plans to ride with anyone in particular,so I was nervous about how much of the day I’d spend by myself having been passed by every other rider out there.  It wound up not being a problem.  I was by myself for about 25 miles, but that’s it (and those 25 miles were really, really pretty climbing and descending at the edge of the mountains).  Most of the day I rode with a guy from Charlotte, Paul Smith, who is a pretty hard-core randonneur, but whom I’d never met before.  Turns out he knows all about lots of really interesting things, like bald eagles and GPS systems and BMB–thanks, Paul–you really made the miles fly by!

We finished up at 4:15, and after some lounging and chatting and eating, I headed home, euphoric after such a good day.  It was a welcome confidence boost.  After I got home, I calculated that I rode 378 miles for the week.  Still not in the ballpark of brevet week, which looms ominously, but definitely getting better . . .

Mr. Helpful and the older child were in Washington for a class trip that next week, and after a quick turn-around when they got home, we all flew down Friday evening to spend spring break in Miami with Grandma.  I only had one chance to ride (unless you count the hour on the 4-person limo bike) while we were there–I rented a bike at Shark Valley, in the Everglades, and spent a couple of hours roaming around on the tram trail.  It was flat as a pancake, and hot, and just went around in a circle, but I must say–the wildlife was unbelievable.  Alligators EVERYWHERE.  I suppose the cyclists down there (and I saw a LOT on this little road) are used to them, but I tell you what.  When I’m pedaling along the side of a canal, and I come up on a 6 or 8 foot gator lying on the bank just right there, next to my right ankle–it keeps me moving.  They don’t seem to bark and chase like dogs (!!), but still . . .

Anyway, we’re home now, and it’s COLD!  I’m so done with cold.  I feel like once I’ve ridden in 80-some degrees and had to stop and buy ice for my bottles and gotten sunburned enough for my arms to peel, I don’t think I can go back to tights and booties and base layers.

So I guess I’ll do some Spinervals, and hope it warms up soon . . .

I was going to call this recovery woes, but I’m feeling better today, so hopefully it’s just issues.  I had a really hard time bouncing back from Sunday’s ride, and I’m not sure why.  I took Monday off, to hang out with teacher-workday-child, and felt icky all day.  I went ahead and rode 60 miles on Tuesday, but did something silly–I took off my arm warmers ten miles in, and never even thought of sunscreen.  Lesson learned.  My arms were pink by the time I got home, and got worse all evening.  My body temp was wonky all night–hot flashes, night sweats–and when I woke up Wednesday morning, my nightgown was on backward.  Okay, that was really bizarre.  There’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed putting it on wrong.  Definitely starting to have issues . . .

So I started out for my ride that morning, and it was cold and windy and I felt generally yucky.  So I bailed at 30 miles, assuming (and I think correctly, for once) that recovery was more important than miles that day.  I ran a low-grade fever all afternoon; I think it was probably the combination of sunburn and general inflammation from working so hard Sunday and Tuesday.  Yesterday I only rode to the mechanic to pick up my car–a grand total of 7 miles.

But the weather’s turned, and today was gorgeous.  My friend Amelia came to town, and we rode 50 miles on the Duke half-ironman course, and had a great time.  My legs were tired, and I was no speed demon, but I had fun the whole way, and that’s a good sign.  So I’m leaving right now in a minute for High Point, to do a 200k tomorrow morning.  Hmm.  128 hilly miles.  Definitely hmm.

I need to be better about stretching and massaging my legs.  Tonight I might just sleep, though.  Awfully tired . . .

One happy note:  Wednesday at 7:30 I finished painting our house.  Yay!  All done . . .

So today I did the NCBC spring rally century ride. 

Bad things:
–it was really cold (which was especially tough after the last few days of balmy spring weather).
–it was really windy (if you email me and tell me you looked out the window from your nice cozy couch and didn’t see any wind, I will have to smack you).
–the pavement in a couple of spots (total of maybe 10 or 15 miles) was so bumpy that I may not be able to sit tomorrow.  It wasn’t seams, like at White Lake; it was giant ruts across the road every foot or two.  I was worried about punctures.  And my tush.
–dogs.  Lots and lots of dogs.  I thought Chatham Co. was bad.  I’m never riding in Johnston Co. again.  Ever.  I think that the number of dogs that chased me just today far exceeded my lifetime total up to this point.  Every kind of dog you can think of, from some freaky, wild, vicious creature that looked like a wolf, to a huge, lolloping thing that looked like a horse, to yes, even a dachshund.  None of them were content to hang out in their yards and laugh at the crazy people on bicycles–no.  They needed desperately to defend their territories–apparently every square inch of Johnston County needs to be defended.  It was truly unbelievable.  There was one stretch where it was like they were handing us off down the road–every house had a new set of dogs that would race out into the road and chase (and bark and snarl and yap at our heels and run in circles around us and back and forth across the road, sometimes barely missing a front wheel) to the next house, where the next set would take over. And some houses had LOTS of dogs.
–the second rest stop.  Or rather, the lack thereof.  Luckily, the second rest stop was at a gas station.  Unfortunately, by the time we (I and the two folks I was riding with, who will be items on the “good things” list) got to the gas station, the second rest stop had actually packed up and left.  Not a crisis, since gas stations are perfectly happy to have actual cash, but a bit demoralizing.

Good things:
–104 miles.  Okay, that one’s debatable.  At mile 99, it seemed like a bad idea.  But from this vantage point, I’m pleased–I’m that much closer to next weekend’s brevet distance.
–Strange as this sounds, my fitness.  I was truly miserable in the wind and the cold, BUT–I did the ride in the exact same time as I did the Frostbite last month, and this was four miles longer, and WAY windier.  So while I feel much worse tonight, I also feel like I was a bit stronger today.
–Bob.  Great guy, Bob.   Interesting, talkative, smart, strong, and not afraid of dogs–always a plus.  Oh, and really tall.  Thanks for all that pulling into the wind, Bob.  I owe you one.
–Robin.  I met Robin early in the day (maybe around 20 miles?  can’t remember for sure), and we stuck together right to the end.  Robin is 23, and in her few months off between undergraduate and graduate school (which starts in May), she’s doing an Ironman (Arizona, in April).  She’s smart and fit and confident and today was her first century.  What a trooper.  Oh, did I mention she just started cycling in the fall?  Amazing.  She hung in strong all the way to the end today; it was a tough ride for a first century.  She’ll be just fine in Arizona.  She’ll also be great in grad school (a master’s in physical therapy).

So what were you doing when you were 23?

So here’s the scenario: 

It’s Thursday.  The weather is gorgeous–for several days I’ve been sneaking out midday doing intervals on my bike, just to take advantage of the warm, sunny early spring days.  But it’s about to change; rain and dropping temps are predicted.  Which means my next century, the NCBC spring rally on Sunday is going to be chilly.  Grrr. And then next week I’m planning to ride lots of miles–a bunch of 60 milers followed by the Sauratown 200k on Saturday.  So I’m painting like a madwoman, just days from being FINISHED.  I finally hired someone to do the master bath–it had wallpaper all the way up to the cathedral ceiling.  It would’ve taken me a month.  It took Armin and his buddy not-quite-two-days.  Meanwhile, I’ve done the ceiling in our bedroom, and am starting the walls, when I realize that there is a puddle under the toilet.  Hmm.  Wonder if Armin cracked something.  Call roto-rooter.

After hours of waiting (meaning I didn’t get to go to Henry’s, my favorite new incredible gelato place–they don’t seem to have a website, but it’s next door to the Panera by Inside Out Sports at the intersection of Cary Parkway and James Jackson Ave–check it out!), and multiple misleading phone calls promising imminent arrival, the roto-rooter guy showed up at 9:45 last night.  That’s, like, bedtime.  Mr. Helpful is very helpfully in his bathrobe, so I get to go downstairs, turn on lights, lead roto-rooter guy upstairs (shushing him not to awaken slumbering children), point out problem.  He sounds awfully nasal.

I’m taping the edges of the freshly painted (pale pink) ceiling in our bedroom, so that I can paint the walls (slightly stronger purple) first thing in the morning, and Mr. Helpful is on the bare mattress (the bed has been stripped and pulled into the middle of the nearly-furniture-free room so that I can paint) giving me the play-by-play of Grey’s Anatomy (the television, being An Important Item, is still plugged in, and I can hear, but not see, because I’m on a ladder taping).  Roto-rooter guy starts sneezing in our bathroom.  We look at each other–I mouth “I TOLD you he’s SICK!”  He sneezes and sneezes.  I give up on calling “bless you” after each one–too many.

At 10:45 (that’s PM!) he finishes.  He has now sneezed all over my bathroom, gone up and down my stairs and through my bedroom repeatedly, and opened and closed the front door at least four times.  When he comes back into the house with paperwork and HIS OWN PEN for someone to sign off, I go into a complete germ tailspin.  I never did go back into our bathroom last night.  Luckily we keep new toothbrushes, floss, etc. under the sink in the children’s bathroom.  I slept on the trundle in Delaney’s room (okay, that was planned anyway, because of the painting, but I certainly didn’t complain).

This morning I went into the  bathroom and used up an entire container of Clorox wipes.  All my painting stuff was in there–rollers, brushes–all the items I’m planning to hold in my hands all day!  I also threw away the old toothbrush and the plastic cup I drink out of, and I’m about to wash all the towels.

So I think I can go paint now without completely freaking out.  But I daresay my hands will be chapped from washing by the end of the day.  Mr. Helpful says I’m paranoid.  I’m okay with that.  I’d rather spend next week pedaling than sneezing.

–clean bike.  Soon.

–install dynohub and lights on bike.

–go for a ride in the dark to test position of lights and try not to crash when I can’t see the road.

–pull lights off in frustration and rig them on with zip ties and electrical tape.

–measure bike box to make sure it’s going to meet the airline requirement of 115″ and 75 lbs.  Worry when it doesn’t.

–make a packing list for Wisconsin.

–test ride in the new shorts I bought today at The Spin Cycle spring sale.

–install trunk rack on the back of the bike for carrying tools that I’m not entirely sure how to use.

–fill out the forms that I need to mail to Pac tour by April 1st with my travel/bike/health info for brevet week.

–register for two more NC brevets plus a couple other local centuries.

–order free reflective tape from RUSA (I read somewhere that they’re giving some away; wonder if it’s run out yet).

–stick reflective tape all over bike and gear, so that I light up like a Christmas tree.

–figure out how to install that darn rear light.

–read and memorize instructions for changing watch to DST, as well as programming alarm feature.  Very Important.

–buy more accelerade.

–revise packing list for Wisconsin.

–make bus reservation for self and bike and box from O’Hare to Beloit, and back again.

–find reflective sash required by ACP and RUSA.

–conclude that I never liked that sash anyway, and buy a new one.

–figure out a way to install fenders on a bike that wasn’t built for fenders.

–give up and ask Matt at the bike shop to solve fender problem.  Bike probably needs a tune-up anyway.  Clean it first.

–book a flight to Paris for self and darling son.

–select a hotel (in the city; not in the ‘burbs, where I stayed last time).

–panic when college French proves inadequate for requesting transportation to and from airport for giant bike box.

–review future tense conjugations of irregular verbs, just in case I need to tell someone what I’m going to do, rather than what I just did.

–convince Mr. Helpful that I really should take a real camera, both to Wisconsin and to France.

–plot a route to ride bike from hotel to start in St. Quentin en Yvelines.  Twice.

–figure out a way to attach mace to bicycle, in case Wisconsin has lots of vicious dogs (Chatham County does, France doesn’t).

–order some more accelerade, and clean the bike again.

–think about how to get a cell phone in France.  And maybe internet, so that I can blog!

–Pedal.