Before I get to CAM 11 - which I completed, by the way - or the rest of my weekend, I'm putting this on here to sniff and snivel. I would have written sooner than now but honestly haven't felt like it. I had put yesterday evening aside to write and do many other things around my place. Having tomorrow off from work for Veterans Day, I was so excited to be going on what was to be a challenging, fun-filled mountain bike ride with Joannie. Now, those plans are shot and nothing got accomplished last night.
I think it's sushi that caused it, but I was hit with a terrible bout of food poisoning last night. It came over me in an icy, throat-watering wave on my drive home. I barely got up the steps and into my apartment before all hell let loose. For five hours straight, 6-11pm, I suffered from symptoms I don't think I need to describe on here. I will, however, urge anyone who is like me - hates to puke - when you get hit with food poisoning or a stomach flu, just do it and get it over with! Since I'd had a salad for lunch yesterday loaded with red bell peppers, I now have another food to add to the 'I'll never be able to eat that again' list. Yuck.
I then tossed and turned from 11pm to 6am, miserable with cramps. I decided to go to work since I am still new and, really, I've got too much to do right now to be taking off any time at all. I was weak and foggy-headed when I arrived and it didn't take but an hour into the morning to start itching like crazy. I looked at my right arm and noticed bumps. I figured, "great, food poisoning and bitten by a spider." Nope, the bumps kept spreading, getting bigger and turning red.
A coworker swung by my desk and when I showed her my bumps, she insisted, "you've got hives!" I then showed them to my boss and everyone else all while getting itchier and itchier. I was told to go home (not by my boss, but he had no issue with it), so I did. I then proceeded to take the advice of my coworkers and took a Benadryl. I've never in my adult life taken one of those little pink pills. I've never had the need. So, little did I know it would turn me into a walking zombie (the vegetarian kind). I'm so drugged up and listless, I can barely type this, AND I've been sleeping on and off while having bizarre, wordy dreams for the last 4-5 hours. I'm going to have to take another one just so I can sleep tonight at all.
I realize none of this is the least bit entertaining and is about as bland as the Saltines I'm eating at present (washed down with Gatorade) but since I haven't reported on CAM 11 yet, I wanted it noted why. Even I'm not that lazy. As for the ride report, it will be coming tomorrow. Now, I go back to bed in hopes that I'll be normal in the AM.
November 10, 2009
November 6, 2009
it ain't easy being a lizard
A week ago, I drove in rush hour traffic over to my reptile shop - the one I bought Boo from and the one at which the owners custom designed her new terrarium - to buy a new light bulb to replace the old one. It had burned out one morning, so it was imperative I drive that evening to replace it. Just so you know, these bulbs cost $75 dollars and only last between nine months and a year. They are also critical to a little dragon's good health. The right light provides not only warmth for the terrarium but broad UV light (the UVAB or whatever) as if to mimic real sunlight. Without it, dragons, who are cold bloodied and need sunshine to live, can fall ill quite quickly since sunshine helps regulate their metabolism, digestion, sleep, etc.
Well, at the shop, the male owner insisted that I only needed a 100 Watt bulb for Boo's terrarium, the one he helped design. His girlfriend, Ashley, immediately reminded him that Boo's new terrarium is 18" high - considerably taller than her old terrarium. He shook his head and said, "No. She needs the 100 watt."
"Um...are you sure?" I remember asking. "That new terrarium is pretty big."
"Positive," he replied, just before ringing me up and sending me on my way.
I should have followed my gut and insisted on the 160 watt bulb, but trusting him, I drove home to install it. Right away I was struck by how small the bulb was in comparison to the old one. I still trusted, stupid me, plugged it in and have had it as Boo's only source of light for a whole week.
At this point, you should know where this story is going, right? It involves the wrong light, one now-on-the-edge of being ill little dragon, and my losing my temper. I think I may have even had smoke come puffing out my ears I was so angry. You see, after seven days of crappy light (that didn't heat her terrarium at all), Boo has grown more and more lethargic, not eaten anything or pooped once. Also, she only blinks one eye (truly concerning) and has dark circles under her eyes. I suspected she wasn't moving at all during the day, so this morning, I put her on her branch and combed the sand beneath it smooth. Sure enough, when I got home tonight, I noticed that the sand hadn't been disturbed. This means my little Boo, who depends on me for everything including proper heat/light, didn't move at all today! That is truly upsetting to me.
With my blood pressure through the roof, I threw the light bulbs (old and new) as well as both domes into my car and drove through rush hour traffic again to my reptile store. Both Ashley and her boyfriend were there. When I walked in, without saying a word, Ashley immediately frowned.
"What is it?" she asked.
I was shaking mad. "It's not good."
"I can tell," she looked to the back of the store with a 'get your butt up her' expression to the BF.
I then went on to state (as calmly as possible) how upset I was, what was going on with Boo, what I suspected, etc. Ashley immediately tested the recently purchased light bulb and looked at the old one. Yup...wrong size light for the terrarium. Her boyfriend was very apologetic and said he didn't realize how low the 'low end' of her branch is. Then, without any argument at all, they replaced the light bulb with the correct one (160 watts). My balloon of hot, fury filled air deflated, and all is good again with the shop. But my having to drive over there tonight ruined my evening, for sure (hate the frickin' Friday night traffic out here). I really wanted to do other things the night before CAM 11 then drive to Burbank, but I couldn't fathom Boo going one more day without proper heat and UV light. As it is, I'm still worried about her.
Right now, I have her wrapped in her blankie and she's out like a light on the couch. Poor little thing. It ain't easy being a lizard, you know? Especially when all you have is a FatHead looking out for you.
Well, at the shop, the male owner insisted that I only needed a 100 Watt bulb for Boo's terrarium, the one he helped design. His girlfriend, Ashley, immediately reminded him that Boo's new terrarium is 18" high - considerably taller than her old terrarium. He shook his head and said, "No. She needs the 100 watt."
"Um...are you sure?" I remember asking. "That new terrarium is pretty big."
"Positive," he replied, just before ringing me up and sending me on my way.
I should have followed my gut and insisted on the 160 watt bulb, but trusting him, I drove home to install it. Right away I was struck by how small the bulb was in comparison to the old one. I still trusted, stupid me, plugged it in and have had it as Boo's only source of light for a whole week.
At this point, you should know where this story is going, right? It involves the wrong light, one now-on-the-edge of being ill little dragon, and my losing my temper. I think I may have even had smoke come puffing out my ears I was so angry. You see, after seven days of crappy light (that didn't heat her terrarium at all), Boo has grown more and more lethargic, not eaten anything or pooped once. Also, she only blinks one eye (truly concerning) and has dark circles under her eyes. I suspected she wasn't moving at all during the day, so this morning, I put her on her branch and combed the sand beneath it smooth. Sure enough, when I got home tonight, I noticed that the sand hadn't been disturbed. This means my little Boo, who depends on me for everything including proper heat/light, didn't move at all today! That is truly upsetting to me.
With my blood pressure through the roof, I threw the light bulbs (old and new) as well as both domes into my car and drove through rush hour traffic again to my reptile store. Both Ashley and her boyfriend were there. When I walked in, without saying a word, Ashley immediately frowned.
"What is it?" she asked.
I was shaking mad. "It's not good."
"I can tell," she looked to the back of the store with a 'get your butt up her' expression to the BF.
I then went on to state (as calmly as possible) how upset I was, what was going on with Boo, what I suspected, etc. Ashley immediately tested the recently purchased light bulb and looked at the old one. Yup...wrong size light for the terrarium. Her boyfriend was very apologetic and said he didn't realize how low the 'low end' of her branch is. Then, without any argument at all, they replaced the light bulb with the correct one (160 watts). My balloon of hot, fury filled air deflated, and all is good again with the shop. But my having to drive over there tonight ruined my evening, for sure (hate the frickin' Friday night traffic out here). I really wanted to do other things the night before CAM 11 then drive to Burbank, but I couldn't fathom Boo going one more day without proper heat and UV light. As it is, I'm still worried about her.
Right now, I have her wrapped in her blankie and she's out like a light on the couch. Poor little thing. It ain't easy being a lizard, you know? Especially when all you have is a FatHead looking out for you.
November 4, 2009
it's become CHAM
Herb got his ear bitten off recently by yours truly. I wasn't mad at him (rarely ever am) but more just grumpy and being pugnacious over our CAM ride this Saturday, which, like I said to Herb with utter disdain, "It's become CHAM - a chore a month." It's CAM 11 and, after that, we have just one more to complete the challenge. As what happened in 2007, I am so utterly over the challenge at present, the thought of riding 100 miles yet again this Saturday has my worn-down chamois all crammed up in my you-know-what (figuratively speaking). This is the one and only downfall to this type of challenge - the monotony of having to pedal 100 miles come hell-or-high-water every two to three weeks, which just so happens to takes the fun out of the ride.
I've already been giving 2010 a great deal of thought. I turn (gulp) 40 next year. I'm not a big "milestone" kind of gal, so it doesn't truly bother me. I'd rather turn forty than be dead. I just see no reason to wax sentimental over it either, although I will ask for the week off from work around my birthday. I want to take a trip and ride my bike somewhere I've never ridden in my lifetime. That's as "celebrate turning 40" as I'm going to get. But I do believe the realization that I'm finally growing up (well, somewhat) and entering a new decade has me reevaluating my priorities.
So, for cycling - priority number one is to ride my bike. Priority number two is to have fun while riding my bike. Anything less (fun) than that, and I'm out. I've never been a hard-bodied athlete, the kind that is disciplined enough to win a race (any race) or even be considered a serious contender. So, as my friend, Francis, always says, "Why suffer?" Besides, I'm too busy chatting, stopping to eat, stretching, taking photos and petting llamas to be bothered with actually pushing myself to best my or anyone else's time. Well, that and...I don't care. My being soft around the middle is no coincidence, by the way, and likely, I will always be a work in progress and never a shining example of accomplishment.
I can live with that.
Now, back to C(H)AM this Saturday - Herbie saved the day. We were going to ride up in/around the same area (Ventura, Carpenteria, Santa Barbara) again, but Herb came up with a local option, one that really appeals to me. I like the idea of starting from The Hub, riding out to East Fork (up Highway 39) and back, hopefully finishing by 3pm. I know the roads and somehow the thought of riding urban is cool to me. I just couldn't stomach the same coastal roads we've ridden several months in a row! I know, huh? Sounds so not like me...well, this is what CHAM does to me!
On another topic - work. I'm settling in, and I decided today that I really, really like it. I also like my boss. He happens to be one of the nicest I've ever had. He's involved me on projects where I'm writing and that thrills me. I like his direct reports as well. All of them are genuine, bright folks. I finally feel I've found a work environment in which I really am going to thrive and be a part of a team.
Oh, and I'm getting my schedule back. I'm really pudgy right now (no, really) and it's a good thing that I have so many places to exercise and so many healthy choices to choose from at lunch. Now, if I can stay the course - I have promised myself that I am losing this weight before I turn 40. I have five months. I have to do it. I don't want to enter the next decade feeling like I do. I'm not going to ever be skinny, but I can be leaner, meaner and less soft around the middle. Notice, I did not say flat-tummied. I gave up the idea of having a six pack by the time I was 12! But I can (and will) be better bodied - I just have to truly want it.
Hmmm...maybe I should file that under my 2010 goal page for my next entry. I need to get the goals down on paper (in this blog) to stick with them. I have two for sure - have fun and ride more dirt trails, lots more! Of course, if you think about it, that's one and the same goal.
I've already been giving 2010 a great deal of thought. I turn (gulp) 40 next year. I'm not a big "milestone" kind of gal, so it doesn't truly bother me. I'd rather turn forty than be dead. I just see no reason to wax sentimental over it either, although I will ask for the week off from work around my birthday. I want to take a trip and ride my bike somewhere I've never ridden in my lifetime. That's as "celebrate turning 40" as I'm going to get. But I do believe the realization that I'm finally growing up (well, somewhat) and entering a new decade has me reevaluating my priorities.
So, for cycling - priority number one is to ride my bike. Priority number two is to have fun while riding my bike. Anything less (fun) than that, and I'm out. I've never been a hard-bodied athlete, the kind that is disciplined enough to win a race (any race) or even be considered a serious contender. So, as my friend, Francis, always says, "Why suffer?" Besides, I'm too busy chatting, stopping to eat, stretching, taking photos and petting llamas to be bothered with actually pushing myself to best my or anyone else's time. Well, that and...I don't care. My being soft around the middle is no coincidence, by the way, and likely, I will always be a work in progress and never a shining example of accomplishment.
I can live with that.
Now, back to C(H)AM this Saturday - Herbie saved the day. We were going to ride up in/around the same area (Ventura, Carpenteria, Santa Barbara) again, but Herb came up with a local option, one that really appeals to me. I like the idea of starting from The Hub, riding out to East Fork (up Highway 39) and back, hopefully finishing by 3pm. I know the roads and somehow the thought of riding urban is cool to me. I just couldn't stomach the same coastal roads we've ridden several months in a row! I know, huh? Sounds so not like me...well, this is what CHAM does to me!
On another topic - work. I'm settling in, and I decided today that I really, really like it. I also like my boss. He happens to be one of the nicest I've ever had. He's involved me on projects where I'm writing and that thrills me. I like his direct reports as well. All of them are genuine, bright folks. I finally feel I've found a work environment in which I really am going to thrive and be a part of a team.
Oh, and I'm getting my schedule back. I'm really pudgy right now (no, really) and it's a good thing that I have so many places to exercise and so many healthy choices to choose from at lunch. Now, if I can stay the course - I have promised myself that I am losing this weight before I turn 40. I have five months. I have to do it. I don't want to enter the next decade feeling like I do. I'm not going to ever be skinny, but I can be leaner, meaner and less soft around the middle. Notice, I did not say flat-tummied. I gave up the idea of having a six pack by the time I was 12! But I can (and will) be better bodied - I just have to truly want it.
Hmmm...maybe I should file that under my 2010 goal page for my next entry. I need to get the goals down on paper (in this blog) to stick with them. I have two for sure - have fun and ride more dirt trails, lots more! Of course, if you think about it, that's one and the same goal.
November 2, 2009
asthma is stupid
At the age of 34, just six months into my new-found hobby (cycling), I was diagnosed with asthma. Since then, I've had to report at least twice a year to various "pulmonary specialists" where I'm asked to blow out into a tube until I damn near pass out just so my breathing can be measured. Well, you know how some people are talented at both holding their breath and blowing? (take that as you will) - I'm not one of them. I can't blow a full inhaled breath back out out into a tube. I try and try, but I just succeed in blowing spit all over the tip of the tube and anyone standing within a few feet of me (like usually the nurse, who then hates me). I also, in panic, inhale right when I'm being told to blow (by that same nurse who hates me and who is wiping my spit off of her hand that is holding the tube I'm blowing into). I've annoyed way more than just one nurse and been told that I suck when in comes to having my breathing tested (okay, not in so many words, but close).
Regardless, somehow these specialists have all deduced that I'm a full blown, moderate to severe asthmatic. Whether it's my failure to blow into a tube properly or a real disease that inflicts me, I couldn't tell ya. But I can attest to the power of my "crack pipe" - you know, the little pipe I put a powder-filled capsule (Foradil) in and then suck that powder out of?
I may not be talented at exhaling, but I got no issues with inhaling. I can't hold my breath worth crap, but I can suck in a lot of air before leaking like a punctured tire. Apparently, that is exactly the kind of breathing pattern severe asthmatics display - an ability to inhale deeply coupled with the inability to exhale all of that air quickly (or in some cases, when death is involved, not at all). That's technically what's known as an asthma attack should the exhaling begin to impede the inhaling. I've been there and done that - it ain't exactly fun.
But, I'm not here to bore the drawers off you with all this talk of breathing. I'm more on here to just report that asthma is stupid. I've said it before (can't remember in which entry over the last year) and I repeat it now cause, really, it is. Can you think of a dumber (and less convenient) disease to have? Asthma packs no real punch unless it kills you, and rarely are those deaths often or dismal enough to evoke mass sympathy toward the disease. How many charity runs/walks/rides are dedicated to this disease? I do know of one, the Lung Ride, that is a charity event, but it's about the only one, and unlike cancer, diabetes or multiple sclerosis, no one seems all that bothered that there is a huge majority of us folks in this world who can't exhale all the air out of our lungs which in turn could potentially kill us. And I know from personal experience, that those living asthma-free have next to zero empathy when we asthmatics complain of poor air quality, heat/cold sensitivity, allergies or absolute intolerance of strong irritants like cigarette smoke and perfume. We're either considered whiny or worse, overly dramatic.
Thus, this stupid disease not only affects our day-to-day breathing, but we get very little understanding and patience from others for the times when we can't breath or when we yawn repeatedly and uncontrollably cause we can't get the damn air out of our lungs (I suffered this today during a very important meeting at which my new boss was present and could see me desperately trying to stifle yawns - if only I could have explained to him that it wasn't boredom or lack of sleep causing the yawning, but my stupid asthma!) Sigh.
Oh, and I'm yet again quitting a steroid inhaler for which I paid $20 (copay) recently. It's called Aerobid and it's just like Advair - including the side effects: hoarse voice, scratchy/sore throat, headaches, dry mouth and nervousness. I get all these side effects with inhaled steroids and have fought with my pulmonary specialists for years over taking them. Basically, I refuse. My recent visit to my latest pulmonary specialist was a fluke in that I somehow agreed to try this new steroid inhaler - the Aerobid - yeah...that was a huge mistake!
I was crying into the phone tonight into Herb's ear (he's asthmatic and can totally relate to all of this) that I'm never taking another steroid inhaler again. I'm one of the very rare folks in this world (the 1% apparently) who suffers side effects from the inhalants, and I'm tired of it. Just after a few days, I'm already losing my voice and the headaches are awful. Then...there is the fear of oral thrush (google for images if you have a strong stomach) that is brought on by use of these steroids. Yeah...that's oh so much fun. Imagine having a mouth and throat filled with a cottage cheese type coating that no matter how much water you drink, never goes away. And to really freak yourself out, take a spoon and scoop it out, only to have it reappear in a matter of an hour. Yum.
I dealt with the thrush (which took several rounds of lozenges and months to clear) and other symptoms back in 2005, and I am NOT doing that again. So, tonight I toss the Aerobid in the trash (bye, bye $20) and just keep puffing off my crack pipe while praying that my stupid asthma doesn't actually kill me. Of course, when I'm out on a bike, a car is a much bigger threat than dying from a sudden inability to exhale. Therefore, I'm not going to sweat it. Besides, there are far worse things in life than being unable to blow air into a tube (again, take that as you will).
Regardless, somehow these specialists have all deduced that I'm a full blown, moderate to severe asthmatic. Whether it's my failure to blow into a tube properly or a real disease that inflicts me, I couldn't tell ya. But I can attest to the power of my "crack pipe" - you know, the little pipe I put a powder-filled capsule (Foradil) in and then suck that powder out of?
I may not be talented at exhaling, but I got no issues with inhaling. I can't hold my breath worth crap, but I can suck in a lot of air before leaking like a punctured tire. Apparently, that is exactly the kind of breathing pattern severe asthmatics display - an ability to inhale deeply coupled with the inability to exhale all of that air quickly (or in some cases, when death is involved, not at all). That's technically what's known as an asthma attack should the exhaling begin to impede the inhaling. I've been there and done that - it ain't exactly fun.
But, I'm not here to bore the drawers off you with all this talk of breathing. I'm more on here to just report that asthma is stupid. I've said it before (can't remember in which entry over the last year) and I repeat it now cause, really, it is. Can you think of a dumber (and less convenient) disease to have? Asthma packs no real punch unless it kills you, and rarely are those deaths often or dismal enough to evoke mass sympathy toward the disease. How many charity runs/walks/rides are dedicated to this disease? I do know of one, the Lung Ride, that is a charity event, but it's about the only one, and unlike cancer, diabetes or multiple sclerosis, no one seems all that bothered that there is a huge majority of us folks in this world who can't exhale all the air out of our lungs which in turn could potentially kill us. And I know from personal experience, that those living asthma-free have next to zero empathy when we asthmatics complain of poor air quality, heat/cold sensitivity, allergies or absolute intolerance of strong irritants like cigarette smoke and perfume. We're either considered whiny or worse, overly dramatic.
From airpurifiers.com
Thus, this stupid disease not only affects our day-to-day breathing, but we get very little understanding and patience from others for the times when we can't breath or when we yawn repeatedly and uncontrollably cause we can't get the damn air out of our lungs (I suffered this today during a very important meeting at which my new boss was present and could see me desperately trying to stifle yawns - if only I could have explained to him that it wasn't boredom or lack of sleep causing the yawning, but my stupid asthma!) Sigh.
Oh, and I'm yet again quitting a steroid inhaler for which I paid $20 (copay) recently. It's called Aerobid and it's just like Advair - including the side effects: hoarse voice, scratchy/sore throat, headaches, dry mouth and nervousness. I get all these side effects with inhaled steroids and have fought with my pulmonary specialists for years over taking them. Basically, I refuse. My recent visit to my latest pulmonary specialist was a fluke in that I somehow agreed to try this new steroid inhaler - the Aerobid - yeah...that was a huge mistake!
I was crying into the phone tonight into Herb's ear (he's asthmatic and can totally relate to all of this) that I'm never taking another steroid inhaler again. I'm one of the very rare folks in this world (the 1% apparently) who suffers side effects from the inhalants, and I'm tired of it. Just after a few days, I'm already losing my voice and the headaches are awful. Then...there is the fear of oral thrush (google for images if you have a strong stomach) that is brought on by use of these steroids. Yeah...that's oh so much fun. Imagine having a mouth and throat filled with a cottage cheese type coating that no matter how much water you drink, never goes away. And to really freak yourself out, take a spoon and scoop it out, only to have it reappear in a matter of an hour. Yum.
I dealt with the thrush (which took several rounds of lozenges and months to clear) and other symptoms back in 2005, and I am NOT doing that again. So, tonight I toss the Aerobid in the trash (bye, bye $20) and just keep puffing off my crack pipe while praying that my stupid asthma doesn't actually kill me. Of course, when I'm out on a bike, a car is a much bigger threat than dying from a sudden inability to exhale. Therefore, I'm not going to sweat it. Besides, there are far worse things in life than being unable to blow air into a tube (again, take that as you will).
November 1, 2009
I did the unthinkable
This weekend did not work as I had planned. That is not to say I'm upset, just a tad perplexed. Also, I watched Paranormal Activity last night. I was more freaked out by it than scared - but either it was the images from that movie (affecting my sleep) or the time change, but I'm all kerfunked today (not sure that is the right spelling or really, the right word). Before I get ahead of myself, I'm going to rewind and start the weekend from the beginning and work up to now (as I sit on my butt on the couch without a coffee table). After all, beginning to end is the only way to describe it!
Yesterday
Woke up ready to ride dirt. Not sure what's up with me lately, but dirt is infinitely more interesting than road these days. Besides the obvious (no cars), it makes me madder than hell. Really, it does - it's challenging in ways riding on paved roads isn't. Mainly cause I suck at it. Do you understand that? It's kinda like when you're really good at softball and can play it without much effort and do really well. Then, someone asks you to play a round or two of tennis. Same thing, really - hitting a ball and running, right? Well, no, it's not, and you really suck at it. Your breathing is off, you run sluggish, you struggle and eventually you throw your tennis racket in a sudden, uncontrollable fit of anger...only to do it all over again with glee when someone invites you onto the tennis courts again.
That's what mountain biking is like for me. Only, I don't throw my bike (puh-lease, I'm not that bad). But I do routinely throw temper tantrums that go something like this: pedal, pedal harder, puff, struggle, try to power through, stall out on a hill, try to get clipped back in, can't, and after catching breath, yell, "God d@%#&*! You m*^&$#%{@%&@#*, piece of s@%^!" at ear splitting levels. Those who ride with me ignore me. Good thing they do.
Anyway, yesterday was a mountain biking kind of day, and it was just Herbie and me. We decided to ride Malibu Creek State Park. He's never been and I've been craving those single tracks and such ever since I rode there with The Pink a month or so ago. So, when Herb picked me up at 7:45am to head out there, I had a plan in mind. We'd ride from Lost Hills Road into the park (on the single track Karen showed me), over to both the lake and the Dam and then up Bulldog Trail to the abandoned house and back (thus, not fully finishing Bulldog which is roughly 4.3 miles up). I had plans in the evening and needed to be home earlier rather than later. 18 miles with 2,000 feet of climbing was really all I needed.
When we arrived at the the park and jumped out of Herb's truck, we were stuck by the cold air in the canyon. Malibu is chilly in the early AM and then warms up to a toasty, almost unbearable heat just before noon. It's maddening in a way, cause no matter how you plan, you are never prepared for that kind of temperature jump in a matter of three hours. Herb and I sure weren't even though we knew it was inevitable (after all, we've ridden the roads out there plenty and it's the same on pavement as it is on dirt!) We threw on our arm warmers and without too much delay, took off on the dirt path out of the park, the long single track that cuts through the hills and into Malibu Creek Park from the side.
On this first part of the ride, you're treated not only sections of single track, but wide fire roads with steep, rutted climbs as well - all with stunning views of the hills before you. In the early morning, riding out along those trails with an overabundant sun in your eyes and only the rolling, grassy hills to soften the glare, it is truly a sight to behold. I catch my breath in awe several times along that trail, and that's saying a lot since I've seen a lot. But Malibu's beauty is unique albeit lazy. It's up to you to discover it, as it won't make any effort to draw your eye. Go out there to ride, and you'll get my exact meaning here.
Herb had never been to Malibu Creek State Park, and I was thrilled to be leading him there. I like to "deflower" cyclists on routes (sorry, my crude way of putting it!). It's fun to watch the enjoyment and discovery they experience as it brings me back to my own first time on any ride I've completed. Malibu Creek State Park holds a special place in my heart since I've not only ridden there, I've hiked it (many times in the few years just prior to my taking up cycling). I love those trails, and I suspect even more hidden paths are to be found within that park for anyone willing to explore. I was curious to see if Herb would find as much beauty there as I do and if the "rock garden" would challenge him.
The "rock garden" is a literal creek bed filled with rocks of all sizes as well as boulders that seem impossible to ride over. Let me just intersect here - a group of shockingly fit mountain biking men rode past us through the "rock garden" as if it was smooth rode (we pulled up onto the side to let them pass us). I was floored at their skills and hope that's me someday! Herb rode most of the garden himself and, although frustrated with having to unclip at times, impressed me. I rode some of it, but mostly I kept only one foot clipped in and then rolled the rest with my other foot pushing off from various boulders.
Once past the "rock garden," we arrived at the old M*A*S*H Set (what's left of it). I thought Herb would be thrilled, but I don't think he was a M*A*S*H fan or simply not interested in memorabilia - he would not let me take a pic of him on one of the rusted jeeps! Oh, well. I dragged him to the lake and second Dam too -neither really thrilled him. I then decided that the only thing left to do was to make him suffer. I then got us started on Bulldog.
Bulldog is a trail that winds it's way up, getting steeper and steeper toward the top, for about 4.3 miles. I'm not sure what's up there, but there use to be, halfway up, an abandoned brick house. It was a favorite among hikers and bikers alike. It was a mile-marker and object of much debate, myth and intrigue. I was so looking forward to dragging Herb up the hill in the then excessive, over-exposed heat to this abandoned house, hoping it would interest him. Well, as luck would have it (as we finally arrived at where the house should have been), it is no longer abandoned...but demolished. Crap. There went the cool stone house on the hill.
We decided to turn around there anyway. I was fatiguing in the heat and, another crap, I'd rammed my calf into my pedal just prior to our turn-around spot. It was at that point that Herb whipped out his "first aid baggy" full of very old first aid supplies. I made fun of him mercilessly since really all he could do to stop the bleeding was...nothing. I shouldn't poke fun here as, after all, I don't even carry a first aid kit!!
At that point with my leg bleeding, my head beginning to hurt (due to heat, I'm sure) and my stomach growling, it was time to go back. I got no resistance from Herb, and down we went (covering all the climbing we did!), back to the "rock garden", over to the side trail out of the park, along the single track and to the truck. Phew!
Great ride for sure. I love that trail and want to do it again and again and again - only next time, all the way to the top of Bulldog! I just didn't have time as I had plans in the evening (for Halloween). And, speaking of, Joannie and I had dinner, a libation (or two, but who's counting) and watched the movie I describe as freaky. Ghost/demon stories freak me out but slasher/torture films disgust me. It was a relief watching a film without any gore! And, as usual, hanging out with my sweet, charismatic, exuberant friend was the real treat.
Today
I woke up this morning sore and tired. Not sure why. I mean, the ride yesterday was tough but I've ridden tougher. I think it's still just a combo of schedule, new workouts, etc. that are adding to my lethargy. I did not feel like riding and certainly not a challenging mountain bike ride with The Pink. I decided to opt out (or give her an option to do so, which she took). I just couldn't imagine being out in the sun all morning trying to keep up with her when I had zero leg strength.
I made the right decision, too. I found this out just riding over to my local farmer's market and having breakfast. I was slow, heavy on the saddle and in no mood to be social. The farmer's market didn't help since there were so many parents with babies in strollers crowding the produce isles and raising the tempers of those of us already heated by the midday sun. I got nothing against your baby, but please watch where you're rolling that stroller and be considerate of others! It is shocking to me how many parents just use their child in a stroller as an excuse to pay no attention to others, as if they are given some inalienable right I'm not allowed as a single, childless woman since they are rolling a "mini-me" around in front of them. It took a great deal of patience not to pick (and win) a fight with a couple of those rude parents, I can promise you.
As it was, in my hurry to depart the stroller-toe-crushing mayhem, I bought three cookies, skipped the produce crowd fiasco and high-tailed it out of there. Three cookies is not a healthy breakfast! (albeit delicious) Nor is riding all of two miles back home a comparable workout to burn off the calories gained from eating those cookies, but there you have it. I just didn't feel like riding any farther, and my quads were in full agreement.
It was then "putz" around my place all day, find a spot for Stephen's trunk (that I'm never parting with willingly) and head out to Urban Home in the Sherman Oaks Galleria. I found a coffee table there last night while out with Joannie (after the movie - a little late night shopping). It is on sale and offers ample storage (with sliding doors on top). I slept on it (so, no impulse buy!) and decided today that I couldn't resist. I need more storage here and I already know what will go inside the unit. I called Mom, and the little sweetheart encouraged me to get it (I love my mom) - she knows I've been looking for something that doesn't cost an arm and a leg but offers more storage space. Plus, it is very cute and will go perfectly in my apartment! I pick it up next Thursday.
Now...my last report on this weekend, and one I'd rather not give. I did the unthinkable today and stepped on Boo. Yes, you heard me correctly. I.Stepped.On.My.Dragon. She survived but it was a drama, let me tell ya! I let Boo out today, setting her on the carpet to wander around. She just stayed put where I put her (she does that sometimes to my surprise). I was then moving stuff around and figuring out where the trunk would go and how it all would all look, when I backed up and stepped down...onto something squishy. I immediately threw my weight onto my other foot and almost fell over myself. I knew instantly what was beneath my foot! I then rushed to get down beside her and check her out, completely panicked.
After much examining and watching her all afternoon (including in her bath), she's physically fine (although her feelings have been terribly hurt). No broken anything or problems that I can tell, and she moves just as fast, with ease, etc. But for a good 20 minutes, her beard was pitch, pitch, pitch black. She stared at me in an accusative way as if to say, "You swore you'd never hurt me." I balled like a baby and pet her profusely (I'm sure that made it worse), all while cooing to her. I would have never stepped on her on purpose, of course, and was very angry with myself. She can't cry out so, really, I have to watch where I step and be mindful - stupid, stupid! Poor little thing. It seems to be forgotten at present as she is all snuggled up into her blankie next to me on the couch, but I can never allow that to happen again. I'd be inconsolable if I ever truly harmed my little Boo. Sigh.
Well...that's my weekend. Another work week ahead and then next Saturday- another 100 miles (to complete CAM 11). I'd better get lots of rest this week and keep my diet clean. I would really like to enjoy the next century ride and not suffer like I did on the last one!
Yesterday
Woke up ready to ride dirt. Not sure what's up with me lately, but dirt is infinitely more interesting than road these days. Besides the obvious (no cars), it makes me madder than hell. Really, it does - it's challenging in ways riding on paved roads isn't. Mainly cause I suck at it. Do you understand that? It's kinda like when you're really good at softball and can play it without much effort and do really well. Then, someone asks you to play a round or two of tennis. Same thing, really - hitting a ball and running, right? Well, no, it's not, and you really suck at it. Your breathing is off, you run sluggish, you struggle and eventually you throw your tennis racket in a sudden, uncontrollable fit of anger...only to do it all over again with glee when someone invites you onto the tennis courts again.
That's what mountain biking is like for me. Only, I don't throw my bike (puh-lease, I'm not that bad). But I do routinely throw temper tantrums that go something like this: pedal, pedal harder, puff, struggle, try to power through, stall out on a hill, try to get clipped back in, can't, and after catching breath, yell, "God d@%#&*! You m*^&$#%{@%&@#*, piece of s@%^!" at ear splitting levels. Those who ride with me ignore me. Good thing they do.
Anyway, yesterday was a mountain biking kind of day, and it was just Herbie and me. We decided to ride Malibu Creek State Park. He's never been and I've been craving those single tracks and such ever since I rode there with The Pink a month or so ago. So, when Herb picked me up at 7:45am to head out there, I had a plan in mind. We'd ride from Lost Hills Road into the park (on the single track Karen showed me), over to both the lake and the Dam and then up Bulldog Trail to the abandoned house and back (thus, not fully finishing Bulldog which is roughly 4.3 miles up). I had plans in the evening and needed to be home earlier rather than later. 18 miles with 2,000 feet of climbing was really all I needed.
When we arrived at the the park and jumped out of Herb's truck, we were stuck by the cold air in the canyon. Malibu is chilly in the early AM and then warms up to a toasty, almost unbearable heat just before noon. It's maddening in a way, cause no matter how you plan, you are never prepared for that kind of temperature jump in a matter of three hours. Herb and I sure weren't even though we knew it was inevitable (after all, we've ridden the roads out there plenty and it's the same on pavement as it is on dirt!) We threw on our arm warmers and without too much delay, took off on the dirt path out of the park, the long single track that cuts through the hills and into Malibu Creek Park from the side.
On this first part of the ride, you're treated not only sections of single track, but wide fire roads with steep, rutted climbs as well - all with stunning views of the hills before you. In the early morning, riding out along those trails with an overabundant sun in your eyes and only the rolling, grassy hills to soften the glare, it is truly a sight to behold. I catch my breath in awe several times along that trail, and that's saying a lot since I've seen a lot. But Malibu's beauty is unique albeit lazy. It's up to you to discover it, as it won't make any effort to draw your eye. Go out there to ride, and you'll get my exact meaning here.
Herb had never been to Malibu Creek State Park, and I was thrilled to be leading him there. I like to "deflower" cyclists on routes (sorry, my crude way of putting it!). It's fun to watch the enjoyment and discovery they experience as it brings me back to my own first time on any ride I've completed. Malibu Creek State Park holds a special place in my heart since I've not only ridden there, I've hiked it (many times in the few years just prior to my taking up cycling). I love those trails, and I suspect even more hidden paths are to be found within that park for anyone willing to explore. I was curious to see if Herb would find as much beauty there as I do and if the "rock garden" would challenge him.
The "rock garden" is a literal creek bed filled with rocks of all sizes as well as boulders that seem impossible to ride over. Let me just intersect here - a group of shockingly fit mountain biking men rode past us through the "rock garden" as if it was smooth rode (we pulled up onto the side to let them pass us). I was floored at their skills and hope that's me someday! Herb rode most of the garden himself and, although frustrated with having to unclip at times, impressed me. I rode some of it, but mostly I kept only one foot clipped in and then rolled the rest with my other foot pushing off from various boulders.
Once past the "rock garden," we arrived at the old M*A*S*H Set (what's left of it). I thought Herb would be thrilled, but I don't think he was a M*A*S*H fan or simply not interested in memorabilia - he would not let me take a pic of him on one of the rusted jeeps! Oh, well. I dragged him to the lake and second Dam too -neither really thrilled him. I then decided that the only thing left to do was to make him suffer. I then got us started on Bulldog.
Bulldog is a trail that winds it's way up, getting steeper and steeper toward the top, for about 4.3 miles. I'm not sure what's up there, but there use to be, halfway up, an abandoned brick house. It was a favorite among hikers and bikers alike. It was a mile-marker and object of much debate, myth and intrigue. I was so looking forward to dragging Herb up the hill in the then excessive, over-exposed heat to this abandoned house, hoping it would interest him. Well, as luck would have it (as we finally arrived at where the house should have been), it is no longer abandoned...but demolished. Crap. There went the cool stone house on the hill.
We decided to turn around there anyway. I was fatiguing in the heat and, another crap, I'd rammed my calf into my pedal just prior to our turn-around spot. It was at that point that Herb whipped out his "first aid baggy" full of very old first aid supplies. I made fun of him mercilessly since really all he could do to stop the bleeding was...nothing. I shouldn't poke fun here as, after all, I don't even carry a first aid kit!!
At that point with my leg bleeding, my head beginning to hurt (due to heat, I'm sure) and my stomach growling, it was time to go back. I got no resistance from Herb, and down we went (covering all the climbing we did!), back to the "rock garden", over to the side trail out of the park, along the single track and to the truck. Phew!
Great ride for sure. I love that trail and want to do it again and again and again - only next time, all the way to the top of Bulldog! I just didn't have time as I had plans in the evening (for Halloween). And, speaking of, Joannie and I had dinner, a libation (or two, but who's counting) and watched the movie I describe as freaky. Ghost/demon stories freak me out but slasher/torture films disgust me. It was a relief watching a film without any gore! And, as usual, hanging out with my sweet, charismatic, exuberant friend was the real treat.
Today
I woke up this morning sore and tired. Not sure why. I mean, the ride yesterday was tough but I've ridden tougher. I think it's still just a combo of schedule, new workouts, etc. that are adding to my lethargy. I did not feel like riding and certainly not a challenging mountain bike ride with The Pink. I decided to opt out (or give her an option to do so, which she took). I just couldn't imagine being out in the sun all morning trying to keep up with her when I had zero leg strength.
I made the right decision, too. I found this out just riding over to my local farmer's market and having breakfast. I was slow, heavy on the saddle and in no mood to be social. The farmer's market didn't help since there were so many parents with babies in strollers crowding the produce isles and raising the tempers of those of us already heated by the midday sun. I got nothing against your baby, but please watch where you're rolling that stroller and be considerate of others! It is shocking to me how many parents just use their child in a stroller as an excuse to pay no attention to others, as if they are given some inalienable right I'm not allowed as a single, childless woman since they are rolling a "mini-me" around in front of them. It took a great deal of patience not to pick (and win) a fight with a couple of those rude parents, I can promise you.
As it was, in my hurry to depart the stroller-toe-crushing mayhem, I bought three cookies, skipped the produce crowd fiasco and high-tailed it out of there. Three cookies is not a healthy breakfast! (albeit delicious) Nor is riding all of two miles back home a comparable workout to burn off the calories gained from eating those cookies, but there you have it. I just didn't feel like riding any farther, and my quads were in full agreement.
It was then "putz" around my place all day, find a spot for Stephen's trunk (that I'm never parting with willingly) and head out to Urban Home in the Sherman Oaks Galleria. I found a coffee table there last night while out with Joannie (after the movie - a little late night shopping). It is on sale and offers ample storage (with sliding doors on top). I slept on it (so, no impulse buy!) and decided today that I couldn't resist. I need more storage here and I already know what will go inside the unit. I called Mom, and the little sweetheart encouraged me to get it (I love my mom) - she knows I've been looking for something that doesn't cost an arm and a leg but offers more storage space. Plus, it is very cute and will go perfectly in my apartment! I pick it up next Thursday.
Now...my last report on this weekend, and one I'd rather not give. I did the unthinkable today and stepped on Boo. Yes, you heard me correctly. I.Stepped.On.My.Dragon. She survived but it was a drama, let me tell ya! I let Boo out today, setting her on the carpet to wander around. She just stayed put where I put her (she does that sometimes to my surprise). I was then moving stuff around and figuring out where the trunk would go and how it all would all look, when I backed up and stepped down...onto something squishy. I immediately threw my weight onto my other foot and almost fell over myself. I knew instantly what was beneath my foot! I then rushed to get down beside her and check her out, completely panicked.
After much examining and watching her all afternoon (including in her bath), she's physically fine (although her feelings have been terribly hurt). No broken anything or problems that I can tell, and she moves just as fast, with ease, etc. But for a good 20 minutes, her beard was pitch, pitch, pitch black. She stared at me in an accusative way as if to say, "You swore you'd never hurt me." I balled like a baby and pet her profusely (I'm sure that made it worse), all while cooing to her. I would have never stepped on her on purpose, of course, and was very angry with myself. She can't cry out so, really, I have to watch where I step and be mindful - stupid, stupid! Poor little thing. It seems to be forgotten at present as she is all snuggled up into her blankie next to me on the couch, but I can never allow that to happen again. I'd be inconsolable if I ever truly harmed my little Boo. Sigh.
Well...that's my weekend. Another work week ahead and then next Saturday- another 100 miles (to complete CAM 11). I'd better get lots of rest this week and keep my diet clean. I would really like to enjoy the next century ride and not suffer like I did on the last one!
October 30, 2009
love you, Steveareno, and I miss you
Wow...has it been a year already? I wrote this about Stephen last October 30th. Sums it up, and by the way, today he'd have turned 41. I must say, selfishly, that if he were here tonight I'd have vied for the opportunity to take him to dinner (my treat now that I'm employed) and then spent the whole evening talking about myself and my new job and my new exercise routine and my new desire to lose weight and my, my, my (me, me, me).... Hey. At least I'm honest. And you know what? He wouldn't have minded.
I really miss Stephen.
On another topic - I'm going quasi-vegetarian. That means (exactly), no beef, pork, chicken, turkey, duck, buffalo, lamb or lizard. Well, okay, lizard was never on my menu (Boo can attest), but I threw that in for emphasis. I will eat eggs, cheese (dairy) and seafood. Oh, and I'm not going to worry about rennet or chicken broth in soup. Why, you wonder? Cause it's better for the environment and I just want to. I've done so for the last few days and it's so easy to do.
I will admit that I've been very gassy for the last two days. I only share that on here as #1 you can't smell it and #2 it's part of adjusting to the increased intake of veggies & fruit. My body has to adjust to all this healthy eating. I mean, I was already pretty health conscious anyway - but taking out the chicken, beef, etc. and replacing that with tofu and beans - you got ignition! Eventually, my system will settle (or I'll be given yet another new nickname).
As for work and this past week - yeah. See how much I've been blogging? Balance has not been struck yet. But with next week's daylight savings (so, early morning workouts will be easier to swallow!), I should be golden. Also, no more 'fun times' on a school night. I hung out with Joannie and a pal this past Wednesday and stayed out way, way, way too late. Bad call. I felt like crap on Thursday and am still not 100% today. No more of that even though I loved every minute of it. Can't afford to. At least not until I've lost some (major) poundage and have a routine rock solid.
Other than that, I got nothing. Wait! Boo! She's fine and adjusting to my being gone - and she loves her new tricked out terrarium. All is good in Boo Land - except I do have to find her a babysitter for when I'm visiting back home in December (gone for like 14 days!). I can't bear to take her to Cricket Camp again. She'll be uber traumatized. Anyone love dragons who can help me out??? Boo will love you forever and that's worth it's price in gold - take it from me, a bona fide dragon lover!
Boo and Fathead playing "areoplane"
Boo doing what she does best...posing (basking)
I really miss Stephen.
On another topic - I'm going quasi-vegetarian. That means (exactly), no beef, pork, chicken, turkey, duck, buffalo, lamb or lizard. Well, okay, lizard was never on my menu (Boo can attest), but I threw that in for emphasis. I will eat eggs, cheese (dairy) and seafood. Oh, and I'm not going to worry about rennet or chicken broth in soup. Why, you wonder? Cause it's better for the environment and I just want to. I've done so for the last few days and it's so easy to do.
I will admit that I've been very gassy for the last two days. I only share that on here as #1 you can't smell it and #2 it's part of adjusting to the increased intake of veggies & fruit. My body has to adjust to all this healthy eating. I mean, I was already pretty health conscious anyway - but taking out the chicken, beef, etc. and replacing that with tofu and beans - you got ignition! Eventually, my system will settle (or I'll be given yet another new nickname).
As for work and this past week - yeah. See how much I've been blogging? Balance has not been struck yet. But with next week's daylight savings (so, early morning workouts will be easier to swallow!), I should be golden. Also, no more 'fun times' on a school night. I hung out with Joannie and a pal this past Wednesday and stayed out way, way, way too late. Bad call. I felt like crap on Thursday and am still not 100% today. No more of that even though I loved every minute of it. Can't afford to. At least not until I've lost some (major) poundage and have a routine rock solid.
Other than that, I got nothing. Wait! Boo! She's fine and adjusting to my being gone - and she loves her new tricked out terrarium. All is good in Boo Land - except I do have to find her a babysitter for when I'm visiting back home in December (gone for like 14 days!). I can't bear to take her to Cricket Camp again. She'll be uber traumatized. Anyone love dragons who can help me out??? Boo will love you forever and that's worth it's price in gold - take it from me, a bona fide dragon lover!
Boo and Fathead playing "areoplane"
Boo doing what she does best...posing (basking)
October 25, 2009
he so can't lie well
I was annoyed when my rather shrill alarm clock (is there any other kind?) bit me in the ear this morning. Stupid alarm clock and stupid morning. I was in the middle of a delicious dream that had me with a skinny, long-legged figure sitting in the sun on some beach talking to various friends whose heads were morphed onto one body. In dreams, that's normal and not at all disturbing...in fact, if I could somehow repeat this morph in real life, it would save me a lot of time.
Anyway, my dream was interrupted so that I could get up and go ride. I'm not sure why I'm so tired this weekend, but the last thing I wanted to do each morning was get up. I did, however, want to ride. So...get up I did today and drag my 30 pound mountain bike down the stairs. I'm sure my neighbors want to kill me, cause this morning it was 'clunk, clunk, clunk' down 20 steps. I just didn't have the shoulder strength to hoist Nellie up high and carry her with any dignity. Sometimes, I just roll her one step at a time, much to the chagrin of anyone sleeping.
I arrived at Herb's on time and after a few minutes of him putting a special bar on Nellie (don't know the name) to make it so that she fits on his bike rack (I guess my bike frame is on the tiny side, although I don't see it that way), we were driving toward our ride destination, Stough Canyon. We were driving through thick fog too. So thick, that when I drove to Herb's initially, I had to turn my high beams on just to make out the road in front of me - spooky! But typical of California weather (fickle, fickle), the fog cleared the higher we got up into the Burbank hills.
At the top of Stough where we always park, it was sunny bright and already unjustly warm. Damn. We'd hoped to beat the heat or even to just get a respite while climbing with the fog cooling us and all. Nope. It had burned off of the hills above the city and up there it was toasty. We strapped on our helmets, clipped in and pealed up the first paved hill in a less than enthusiastic manner. Of course, Herb's quads were still smarting from all the climbing he did yesterday. I had no such claim to pain (or excuse to take it easy) since I'd cut the climbing out yesterday and escorted Lisa back to her place. The last thing I allowed myself to do today was take it easy.
Right out the gate and up the first, very steep, rocky dirt climb, I threw it into overdrive and powered past the section that usually whips my tail from the get-go. Yippee! I got up it to a landing and stopped to get my heart rate down. Herb passed me at this point, red in the face. Did I mention it was warm? I clipped back in and followed, never once having to walk any of the steep hills in the beginning. We did take a few breaks but not like we normally do. Mostly, we just pushed through and enjoyed the pretty views around us while our hearts beat to their own drums within our ears.
Herb had a right to complain today although he did not. He was tired, I could tell. But he managed to stay up with me (miss fresh legs) for most of the morning. I pushed hard and sweated buckets. Lucky for me, I wore my arm coolers (De Soto brand - best ever!) and put my normal pigtails up into Princess Leia buns. I looked funny as hell (not a real flattering look on my rather pronounced head and chubby cheeks) but it kept my neck cool. When I mentioned my choice in hairstyle today, Herb looked at me, wrinkled his nose and said as sweetly as possible, "I think you look kinda cute." He so can't lie well.
It was at the 'lawn chairs' section (that's what I've nicknamed it) that we were treated to the most dramatic views of downtown LA covered in the remaining blanket of coastal fog. I sat on one of the chairs but Herb remained standing just in front of me. The other chair was already taken by the boldest (and cutest) little lizard I think I've ever seen. I took a ton of pics of him (to show Boo later) and he didn't so much as flinch and he sure as hell didn't offer Herb his seat. So, Herb and I left him there, and the three of us enjoyed the views in silence.
The final stretch was easier as we were both warmed up. I was full of endorphins, too - which are my antidepressants and antipsychotics in one dose. I was grinning and yippeeing for no real reason. Guess I was just happy to be out there.
Herb said he was having fun as well - up until he fell over the side of the Towers fence. We'd ridden up there, sat for a brief bit (talking to some other folks out enjoying the trail) and when we mounted our bikes to ride off carefully from the ledge, Herb's handle bar caught the chain-length fence, sending him somersaulting over the edge. I heard him yell, "Oh, sh*t!", dismounted my bike and ran back up to help him. I was worried he would be badly hurt as it's a bit of a fall!
Luckily, he somehow landed on his feet not too far down and was okay other than a slightly bruised/sprained leg and hip. He could have broken his fool head or worse, so really it wasn't too bad. His bike was fine too, but he kept saying how stupid he was. I kept yelling at him to stop that. Honestly, it could have happened to me just as easily. I'm never riding up in that narrow section again after that happened to him. Knowing my luck, I would break my fool head and fall all the way to the very bottom of the mountain.
Once that scare was over, we descended without incident. My back tire did slippy-slide all over though. I got cocky and descended even faster than the last time. But truthfully, I never felt scared. I'm getting the hang of it, I think. My goal(s) for next year haven't been decided but I suspect it will involve some dirt. Nothing kicks my butt more! In fact, as I type this, I'm really tired. I'll be in bed by 8:30pm, I bet.
Tomorrow? - back to the grind and a run in the evening on the track (well, run/skip/walk/stairs/meander...whatever).
Anyway, my dream was interrupted so that I could get up and go ride. I'm not sure why I'm so tired this weekend, but the last thing I wanted to do each morning was get up. I did, however, want to ride. So...get up I did today and drag my 30 pound mountain bike down the stairs. I'm sure my neighbors want to kill me, cause this morning it was 'clunk, clunk, clunk' down 20 steps. I just didn't have the shoulder strength to hoist Nellie up high and carry her with any dignity. Sometimes, I just roll her one step at a time, much to the chagrin of anyone sleeping.
I arrived at Herb's on time and after a few minutes of him putting a special bar on Nellie (don't know the name) to make it so that she fits on his bike rack (I guess my bike frame is on the tiny side, although I don't see it that way), we were driving toward our ride destination, Stough Canyon. We were driving through thick fog too. So thick, that when I drove to Herb's initially, I had to turn my high beams on just to make out the road in front of me - spooky! But typical of California weather (fickle, fickle), the fog cleared the higher we got up into the Burbank hills.
At the top of Stough where we always park, it was sunny bright and already unjustly warm. Damn. We'd hoped to beat the heat or even to just get a respite while climbing with the fog cooling us and all. Nope. It had burned off of the hills above the city and up there it was toasty. We strapped on our helmets, clipped in and pealed up the first paved hill in a less than enthusiastic manner. Of course, Herb's quads were still smarting from all the climbing he did yesterday. I had no such claim to pain (or excuse to take it easy) since I'd cut the climbing out yesterday and escorted Lisa back to her place. The last thing I allowed myself to do today was take it easy.
Right out the gate and up the first, very steep, rocky dirt climb, I threw it into overdrive and powered past the section that usually whips my tail from the get-go. Yippee! I got up it to a landing and stopped to get my heart rate down. Herb passed me at this point, red in the face. Did I mention it was warm? I clipped back in and followed, never once having to walk any of the steep hills in the beginning. We did take a few breaks but not like we normally do. Mostly, we just pushed through and enjoyed the pretty views around us while our hearts beat to their own drums within our ears.
Herb had a right to complain today although he did not. He was tired, I could tell. But he managed to stay up with me (miss fresh legs) for most of the morning. I pushed hard and sweated buckets. Lucky for me, I wore my arm coolers (De Soto brand - best ever!) and put my normal pigtails up into Princess Leia buns. I looked funny as hell (not a real flattering look on my rather pronounced head and chubby cheeks) but it kept my neck cool. When I mentioned my choice in hairstyle today, Herb looked at me, wrinkled his nose and said as sweetly as possible, "I think you look kinda cute." He so can't lie well.
It was at the 'lawn chairs' section (that's what I've nicknamed it) that we were treated to the most dramatic views of downtown LA covered in the remaining blanket of coastal fog. I sat on one of the chairs but Herb remained standing just in front of me. The other chair was already taken by the boldest (and cutest) little lizard I think I've ever seen. I took a ton of pics of him (to show Boo later) and he didn't so much as flinch and he sure as hell didn't offer Herb his seat. So, Herb and I left him there, and the three of us enjoyed the views in silence.
The final stretch was easier as we were both warmed up. I was full of endorphins, too - which are my antidepressants and antipsychotics in one dose. I was grinning and yippeeing for no real reason. Guess I was just happy to be out there.
Herb said he was having fun as well - up until he fell over the side of the Towers fence. We'd ridden up there, sat for a brief bit (talking to some other folks out enjoying the trail) and when we mounted our bikes to ride off carefully from the ledge, Herb's handle bar caught the chain-length fence, sending him somersaulting over the edge. I heard him yell, "Oh, sh*t!", dismounted my bike and ran back up to help him. I was worried he would be badly hurt as it's a bit of a fall!
Luckily, he somehow landed on his feet not too far down and was okay other than a slightly bruised/sprained leg and hip. He could have broken his fool head or worse, so really it wasn't too bad. His bike was fine too, but he kept saying how stupid he was. I kept yelling at him to stop that. Honestly, it could have happened to me just as easily. I'm never riding up in that narrow section again after that happened to him. Knowing my luck, I would break my fool head and fall all the way to the very bottom of the mountain.
Once that scare was over, we descended without incident. My back tire did slippy-slide all over though. I got cocky and descended even faster than the last time. But truthfully, I never felt scared. I'm getting the hang of it, I think. My goal(s) for next year haven't been decided but I suspect it will involve some dirt. Nothing kicks my butt more! In fact, as I type this, I'm really tired. I'll be in bed by 8:30pm, I bet.
Tomorrow? - back to the grind and a run in the evening on the track (well, run/skip/walk/stairs/meander...whatever).
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