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 accusatory 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!