Chipseal, Cobbles, and Pedals

After the team’s ‘team camp’ plans fell through due to scheduling and finances, a few of my teammates, also living in New England, decided to organize our own mini-team camp.  Silke, Anna, and I met up on Saturday in Ware, MA at the start of a popular course around the Quabbin Reservoir. The air was much warmer than we anticipated, so the wind had some invitation as it regulated our body heat from over-dressing. We rode up to the start of the big climb and looked out over the valley and hills below.  It was so beautiful. But immediately we got to business and rode, single file along the course’s long stretch of rolling highway. 

Silke and Anna

The pulls were quick but so efficient that it was a breath of fresh air to finally be with other women who shared the same passion. It’s always a treat, especially when you’re used to being the only female in a group of guys. We took turns for several hours and finally, on hour 3, we turned onto  a quite side-road, spread out, and began sharing our life stories. Anna’s a PhD student in biology at Harvard but is incredibly competitive and loves to Nordic ski and bake.  Silke is from Germany and works as a chemist for Pfizer.  She too has many great stories to share.

After the ride, we drove to an Italian bar for a warm bite to eat, and then we hit the road with plans for the racing season, soon to begin!

Sunday was a whole new ball-park.  Landry’s in Boston was hosting an indoor-TT event (mostly for tri-athletes) and Aaron, me and the Landry’s crew decided to enter in the same time-slot so we could not only race one-another but have a reason for trash-talking!  Our heat consisted of 18 compu-trainers and the event took about 8 heats from the entire day. 

Aaron's revival of the "Mr. Goodbody" kit.

Aaron and I drove up to Boston, pouting the entire ride as it was the most beautiful day of the month, and we were somehow choosing to ride indoors!  Ironic, especially since we refuse to ride the trainer during the worst conditions!  When we arrived, we weighed in since the compu-trainer is set up for your weight. Immediately I changed and set up my bike to warm-up.  Aaron came walking into the warm-up garage and I heard guys laughing….he had on his Mario Cipollini muscle suit!  I was surprised and shook my head!  Aaron parked his bike next to mine and sat there whining about his stationary position.  I looked over and said, “Hey, if you don’t start warming up, Jeff over there is going to kick your ass!” Aaron grinned and just decided to go on strike!  I had no idea what his plans were.

It wasn’t too long before they shuttled us into the store and set-up the bikes.  Ahead of us were two large screens with a data sheet for each person in the heat: our position, speed, watts, and distance.  Above this data was a profile of the course with colored markers to depict the position of each rider on the course. The count-down began and when the start beeped, I stood up and took off on my stationary wheels!  For the first minute, I was in the lead, but after each minute ticked away, Aaron took-over and I fell back. He was unstoppable and soon the whole building was cheering for the guy in the ridiculous muscle suit!  I pushed hard but found it so hard to focus. The announcer was raving about the power behind the Cipollini suit!  Aaron wore it proud.  I pushed but the course was painful; several climbs with little descents.  I tried focusing on my speed, but had no bearings on where I was compared to the other women.  Finally, I heard my name! “Melissa Ross is looking strong…she’s going to finish as one of the top females.”  I felt the encouragement.  Meanwhile, Aaron was dumping more and more water on his head.

Boy do I look happy!

He broke away and finished 1st in our heat and 5th overall for the event!  Aaron was beaming, Cat 3 and out-rode a few Cat 1 & 2 riders.  His goal this year is to upgrade to a 2, so this was the encouragement he needed. “I think this is going to be my best season yet, Melissa!” I on the other hand wasn’t as excited about my time or average watts, but I did win my heat for the females. We stayed, cheering our friends in the following heats, Aaron celebrated with beer, and I sipped on my recovery bottle, my stomach twisting in knots.  We arrived dreaming about riding outside, and left with sunshiny faces and dreaming about the upcoming season!

A. Ross & M.Ross side-by-side

Hour 3 of a little snowfall.

Finally…February is almost gone. Gone is the chocolate (please don’t tempt me!) and soon beginning the training races, stripping off the tights, on with the knickers, and at last, the thrill of racing with the cool air kissing your skin.  I can’t complain about February’s romance; the staycation, sushi, and hours upon hours of riding together, Aaron and I, in the fridgid air. Aaron actually bought me a pretty necklace for Valentine’s day…I guess that’s a true measure of how brutally cold riding can be utterly romantic! Who would have known?!

Aaron polishing my bike.

I reminisce as wind pummels the windows and snow falls heavy to the street below. The other day, our favorite bike picture blew off the shelf and I had to run to close the window in the bedroom. Today it is snowing. The last few weekends, I pushed the big ring for hours on end. My legs ached, my stomach tightened out of hunger. Yet it felt so good to suffer in the dense air. Every morning I awake to birds chirping like mad. “It feels like spring,” I say to Aaron. “the beginning of a new season.” The scent of fresh dew and morning birds reminds me of high school track and of the spring I spent in southern France, racing with the National team. Do I ever long to return to France and finish what I started. The Olympics have begun. It was Bonnie Blair back in 1994 or ’95 who got me started. I sat watching the TV, wide eyed and only 8 years old… “I want to be like her,” I announced to my parents, and that’s where the passion started…it was all about doing the unthinkable, and being a champion. It’s that young 8-year old girl that’s still whispering in my head, “Finish what you start,” she says, “Don’t give up your dream.”

Aaron and I have what most people would consider a bizarre idea of a romance vacation. Our version consists of eating, drinking, biking for hours outside in the f’ing cold, and watching lots of movies. Aaron took the week off to use up some vacation time, so I took a 3 day weekend and we stayed in our lovely apartment in Norwood. I’ll just say again that the thermometer was below what most people see as welcoming to leave the realm of a heated enviroment…and below what would least be considered romantic!! 

Aaron eating our ginormous Sushi Boat

Thursday night we decided to splurge on sushi. We drove into Canton, bottle of wine in hand, and downed a ‘Sushi Boat B’ in 15 minutes. It was sooo good and the specials on the board above my head still looked inviting, so after our boat, we ordered the ‘Seven Sisters’ and suddenly my appetite emerged once more! We went home, watched movies and the next day were charged up for our 3 hour ride. We had no idea that it was going to be so frigid cold. It had started snowingthe night before, but we figured it’d dry up and we’d be fine. Nothing beats training during a Wyoming winter…so we can handle anything.

Weather.com read ‘14 degrees F, high of 16′. Damn. It’s going to be so cold. “We can do it Aaron!” I spent the next 20 minutes applying my 10 layers, embrication to the feet (my secret for keeping my toes warm) and soon we were out on our blustery ride. 30 mile and hour winds….god did it feel so much like Wyoming! I stayed on Aaron’s wheel and we had to avoid ice patches here and there. (I might note that we’re on road bikes.) Because the windchill was horrific, we made a 10 mile loop out past Sharon lake, and did our tempo workout; hidden from the wind and safe from the ice. The two hour mark was brutal. My body was thrashed from pushinghard through the cold, dense air, but I knew I could make 3 hours. “One more lap Aaron” My body was dehydrated from only ½ a bottle of water (the rest froze) and a Snickers. We made it home and spent the rest of the day lounging, eating, watching movies and drinking wine.

Again on Saturday, the air had a strong bite!! It was in the single digits but the wind wasn’t blowing as hard. ”We can do it!” I was supposed to do 4 hours, but we decided 3 was a good goal, considering the conditions. It was soo cold, but I added knee warmers under my tights, still embrication on the toes and a scarf. I was set! Aaron motored all the way to Taunton and I hung on his wheel. The air was fine, but then the overcast sky dropped the temperature, and soon we started feeling chills, half way into the ride. Our friend Rob called us, “Hey Rob!” Aaron said, “You out riding?! Me too! You’re one of 3 people!” We started headingback. I had drank as much of my water as possible the first hour so I was more hydrated and sane the second half of the ride. Aaron was tiring out so he rode my wheel the way back.

Sunday was better as the temperature rose to 22 degrees and it was sunshine all day.  Aaron took me on some new, scenic roads so it felt more like a ‘Sunday-stroll’.

So there you are…the perfect recipe for a romantic stacation.

As the gray, New England fall transformed into a winter wonderland, the hours on the bike diminished to a life at the gym.  An unfamiliar zone for an outdoor cyclist, I soon found the change rewarding and inviting as it was the signal for the beginning of another road season.  For people who are unfamiliar with road training, weights are used during the off-season as a way to build strength and power on the bike.  Weight training is very structured and is completely focused on the leg muscles and core strength.  Time and time again, I am asked how much I’m benching….IT’S IRRELEVANT TO GETTING FASTER ON THE BIKE!!  I shake my head. 

A couple of weeks ago, I woke up and my lower neck felt as if I’d slept funny on it.  It was the holiday and Aaron’s parent’s were visiting so we were in the city (Boston).  I had a few days off the weights so I shook it off.  That Sunday, I went to the gym and did my routine, except I was exceptionally sore and slightly pained from the squats.  I cut them short.  My shoulder hurt.  The week went by and I just did my routine and completely cut out the squats…finally Thursday came and I addressed this to my coach, Frank.  He was beside himself!!  “Melissa!!  I don’t know how you can trust yourself to take care of yourself.  You should have told me immediately so I could have adjusted your training!!”  He was so upset, but someone needed to tell me.  “Imagine you had a Mercedes.  You would put the best fuel in, clean it, and never eat in the car.  If the ‘check engine’ light came on, you would IMMEDIATELY take it to the shop, wouldn’t you.”  I nodded my head over the phone. “Just pretend you are a Mercedes and you’ll be fine.”

The ‘Mercedes’ theory immediately became a joke between Aaron and I.  Every Mercedes he’d see on a movie, he would point and remind me…”Melissa, what would you do?”  In the mean time, Frank grounded me from the bike until I got examined by a physician.  It would be another week until I’d find out that it was a strained neck.  Aaron was antsy for me to ride again, so he emailed Frank:

Frank,

hope everything is going well in Colorado! I have three questions
composed in an “A”, “B”, and “C” format.

The first “A” questions is: can Melissa ride a bike yet? She is
driving me “crazy”, and biking will help mello that out.

“B” question: Mercedes? Melissa is not that high maintenance, but when
she ‘breaks” everything is expensive, so I propose to call her an
Aston Martin. There are not really any Aston Martin dealerships
around, which makes fixing them very hard plus they are way more
expensive to fix and run.

“C” question: I have been riding zone 2 for a little while (this week
12 hrs,next week 14-15, week after that 16hrs) how much zone 3 should
I do, and/or, I dont know what I am doing but it seems to work? Will
bourbon help? What is the alchol per mile ratio? I just became a cat 3
last year, now I am almost a “2″ so does my gut instinct work for “my”
training plan?

Thanks,
Aaron

Frank’s reply:

Hey Aaron -
 Good to hear from you.  Thanks for making me laugh, Hahahaa.  Let me
answer those in reverse order:

C) 12 > 14-15 > 16 hrs sounds awesome.  I’d add a easy 6-8 hrs regeneration
week after than 16 hr one. Then begin the tempo work. Tempo in February and
Sweet Spot in March.  Drop the hammer in April or mid-March.  Without an on
the bike BAC “bicycle alcohol content” it’s hard for me to estimate.
However if what you are doing is working, by all means keep it up. Early
European bike racers used to drink whiskey 10k before the spring finish.
They thought it was one of the original performance enhancers. Turns out all
it did was lower their inhibitions so that they sprinted (and crashed) more
crazy.

B) I agree.  I kinda made that up on the fly and afterwards I offered to
make her a Ferrari, but she declined.  Let’s go with an Aston Martin – those
are sweet!

C) Too funny.  I am keen to hear what her Dr. says today and if she gets the
green light A OK bill of health “back is alright” then I’ll load up her
hours and she’ll be outta your hair.  A lot.  Your 12 > 14-15 > 16 hrs
sounds awesome.

Have a good one and let me know if you have any other training and/or car
questions!
-Frank

So, needless to say, after all is said and done, I’ve become an Aston Martin.  WHOO HOO!! Would I have figured this out if I hadn’t hurt myself lifting…not so sure.  But now that I can relate to a James Bond machine, I will know how to act in adverse situations.  The lesson here is: A)  When the ’check engine’ light comes on….take the damn thing to the shop!!

Aston Martin

As I stood there watching the dirty riders slug through the muck, the freezing rain pummeled my bright yellow jacket.  My feet were soaked.  Rider after rider pulled off the course.  It was hypothermic conditions and most felt it wasn’t worth it.  “Aaron!” I yelled, “If you finish, you might make top ten!”  Half the field was missing as they were already in their heated vehicles.  “Melissa,” someone said, “Did you race today?”  “Nope,” I replied.  “Why, you’re a smart one!”  Though the weather was fierce, somewhere deep down, I was envious of the riders, that they had the opportunity to fight that battle. I on the other hand, had fought a big battle that week, as I had spent several days in the hospital with a very serious infection on my right leg.

Aaron after the Wrenthem race.

The infection started the previous weekend, the Providence Cyclocross Festival, October 10th-11th which featured some of the very top cyclocross and mountain bikers in the country and even the world!  The race was only a 45 minute drive from my apartment, so Saturday, I drove up, ready for action.  The course was made almost for a BMX’er which made the technicality very inviting!  I was tired, but excited for the quality of riders and course I was going to compete on. That week, I had a little sore on my leg that I thought was an ingrown hair…so I had been picking at it all week.  It was slowly growing bigger and bigger. As I sat at the start line, the sore on my leg lay exposed.

The race was very fast and I didn’t finish where I wanted, but still knew I could improve the next day.  I went home that night, and this is where the ‘real’ story begins.  My sore had become very inflamed.  I knew it was becoming infected so I boiled some water, got some salts and started soaking it with a hot rag.  “Aaron,” I asked, “could you come in and help me poke this thing with a pin…it really needs to drain.”  It was sooo painful and we didn’t get much drainage, so  I retrieved to bed for a sleepless night.

The next morning I awoke feeling more miserable than ever.  My leg was on fire and my glands in my thigh were so swollen it felt like they would burst. I tried to walk to the bathroom but could barely put any weight on my right leg.  “I think it’s infected.”  So, being that it was a Sunday, I called our amazing friends, Tom and Barbara.  Tom’s a family doctor, and Barbara is an Orthopaedic surgeon.  They called in a prescription for and antibiotic and I took it immediately. 

My leg before heading to the ER on Monday, October 12th.

Aaron and I drove up to Providence for the festival.  Aaron’s race was before mine.  I was unsure if I’d race, being that I couldn’t walk very well, but I brought my things just in case.  I rode around the course; every bump made my leg throb with pain.  “Not sure if I’ll race, Aaron,” I said.  “Do what you think is best.”  So I rode around more, and somehow ended up at the start line….”Damn it…I’m racing!”  Needless to say, the race was not so good.  I probably finished in last place.  My handling sucked and I got so banged up.  I didn’t feel well.

The next day, I rode my bike to work.  My leg was still in pain. “Melissa, what’s that on your leg?!”  “Oh,” I said, “Just an ingrown hair I think.”  Their eyebrows turned, “That doesn’t look like the work of one hair follicle…you should go to the ER!”  So, after work, I took a picture of my leg and emailed it to my family…I couldn’t decide if it was worth going to the ER over.  But immediately when I pressed the ’send’ button, Aaron’s Mom called, “Melissa, get your butt up to the ER NOW!!”  So, I grabbed some reading materials, a few snacks, and hopped on my bicycle and rode up to the hospital, just a few blocks up the road.

In my delusional mind, I thought when I got there that they’d just use a special cleaner, clean the wound, and send me home…but the doctor said, “Here’s my recommendations…we are going to admit you for the night so we can pump you full of antibiotics.  You’re oral antibiotics aren’t working, so you need an IV.”  I was stunned and in denial, “Can’t you just clean it and send me home…isn’t there an outpatient option?!”  “Nope, I can’t force you to stay, but this is my recommendation.  You’ve never been hospitalized before, have you?!”  I was terrified.  I didn’t want to miss work!  I text-ed my boss, “I won’t be into work tomorrow.  I’m getting admitted to the hospital.  Sorry for the drama.”  I couldn’t believe it.

Wednesday morning.

Thursday

Finally, Thursday came and the infection specialist had promised he’d start his rounds on my floor.  He walked in the room, took a look and explained the process my leg was going through.  He said, “You can go home.”  I was stunned as my Primary physician had told me that morning I’d be up there a few more days, “Is this a joke?!”  “What did I just say?!!  You can do home!” he said.  Thank God!!  I was sick of that place and ready to sleep in my own bed.  The nurse came, pulled out my IV, I packed my bags, called Aaron, and waited impatiently for him to pick me up. 

Thursday afternoon (at home!)

Saturday

So,where am I now?  I started riding last Monday, very gradually.  My energy had been diminished from fighting this infection and  drained from a full day of work.  Now, I am getting back to full force…still no running, but I plan on racing this weekend in Canton.

Sunday October 25th & off the antibiotics.

The women's field takes off.

I woke up to the sound of rain pounding on the roof.  This weekend was the big Gloucester event.  Pros from all over the country fly-in to race this classic cyclo-cross event.  I was racing with the Elite Women at 2:30pm.  “Maybe the rain will die down by then…” Instead, it pounded all day long.  Excitment built for the opportunity to once again play outside in the mud.  I had no concept of how much mud I’d get to roll through…but soon I’d find out.

The race started with almost 40 women, lined up.  I again was positioned at the back, so I was prepared to move up as quickly as possible.  The gun cracked and I exploded, up the pavement and onto the slick and muddy course.  I was more aggressive than I’d ever been.  There was no fear of the course.  My mind was focused on one mission only, move up!  I passed several girls on the corners and the muddy straight-aways.  Already, I had positioned myself at about 15th place.  “Wow, I’m doing great!”  We went around corners and off the bike to a thick and sticky muddy run-up.  It was steep, but I dug my feet into the ground. Back onto the bike and around another rider.  We went down a muddy hill, around a bend, up another hill.  I dug in to get traction.  Around a tight bend and down another zig zag of mud.  We jumped off the bike and ran through it, and over the barriers on the side of a hill.   Now to the second part of the course…  Down another hill onto the muddy grass. No traction.  A few long straights, through puddles of water, coming off the ocean, and to a zig zag of mud. I had moved up, but at this point, my body started to fatigue already.  Each zig-zag turn, I was getting passed.  We took a long straight, passed the pits and up a little hill, off the bike, around the bend, back on, down, around another bend and push over the little bump.  No traction.  My cleats slipped out of the pedals, I jumped off, ran two steps and back on the saddle again.  Around the corner, down a little hill, straight, right turn, and up the pavement, completing lap one.

I was head to head with a girl from last weekend.  I didn’t want to deal with her again, so I jumped on the pedals and put some distance between us. For the second lap, we were more spaced out.  I passed a few girls, but also was getting passed.  My glasses were fogging up and my handling was a little less aggressive and more sloppy.  I ran up the hill, but it was so painful!  My gut was tight. Lungs burned.  For the entire course of mud, every ounce of me pushed through, getting traction. I snapped up on the second half and move past a few girls. I hadn’t realized how far back I’d been pushed!  My cleats were so slippery and the bottom-tube too, as I’d grab it to shoulder the bike.  People were sliding everywhere!  The crowd was getting a show!  Chics in spandex, playing in the mud! On the last lap, my brain had turned to mush.  I think my head was down too far for this reason.  On the steep run-up, near the crest, my foot slipped and I started to fall. The spectators screamed, “Oh, oh oh!!!” I managed to catch myself and my bike, “Good save!!”  The hill-crowd cheered! I got back on the bike. My head still low and my brain slightly impaired. I pushed forward. Only a few girls passed me on the last half, but still it moved me even further back. I finished, 31st out of 35….not my ideal result.  Still, I had fun playing in the mud and knew what I needed for the next day…more traction on my tires, more aggression, and not wimping out on the last half of the race!  I rolled down the hill, got my bike and myself hosed off.  One of the riders asked, “Is the water warm…”  “Well, it’s warm enough.”  My chamois was soaked in mud…it was pretty gross.  My face was covered.  I drove home and jumped into the shower with all my gear: shoes, helmet….we were soooo dirty!  Ready for another day of cross.  I smiled.

Since I forgot my camera, visit the link below for an awesome short video…you can get a good experience of the mud!

http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid28343239001?bctid=43277776001

Head is down...pushing through the pain.

Day two of Gloucester.  This time, I awoke to sunshine peaking through the curtains.  I had a new strategy for the day; suffer!!  I needed to embrace the pain much more than the day before.  Again, I was staged at the back.  I had ridden the course several times during warm up, and for the most part, all the mud had dried up.  There were still a few slick areas, but nothing you couldn’t push through.  When the whistle blew, I exploded from the back and moved up to mid pack.  Once we were on the course going in and out of the bends, I kept passing the girls; one, two, three.  I was moving forward.  The course today was different, it zig-zaged back a and forth, with long straight aways, no run-up, but still the barriers and a sand pit.  The pit wasn’t technical as the previous races from the day had packed it down to a smooth trail.  So, technically, this course was like a fast mountain bike race! And boy was it ever fast! 

My agression was fierce, but just as the day before, I hit a wall about half-way through the race, and I just couldn’t push through it no matter how hard I tried.  Two, three, and four girls would pass me.  I’d try to stay on their wheels, sometimes passing them again as we’d battle back and forth, but then they’d get me and gap me. I push over the hills and stayed in the saddle, trying not to run as much as possible.  I used to be a great runner, but biking is so much faster!  My friends were there too, cheering for me as loud as possible.  I kept pushing forward.

Yesterday, we only did 3 laps, but today it was 5 I think.  The end was a blur, but my head was up and I did the very best I could.  I finished 30th out of 37 starters.  Better than yesterday, but nothing I’d brag about.  I want to be in the running for the money for sure!  But, I need to work on not only my skills, but my endurance and power during the race.  It’s still very early in the season, so I believe there’s an opportunity for me to improve and maybe even this year I can get into the top 10 at these big UCI events. Next weekend is Providence… I’ll bring the pain to RI!

The wonderful view.

Self mutilation, mastication of organic materials, purple limbs, recovery drink = beer…tis the season for a masochist.

Already dropped.

Forgetting the brutality of cross, my first race on September the 13th, began with a face-plant over the barriers on lap one. I stumbled up the hill, holding up the field andstruggled to clip in.  With only a few days on my new cross bike, I again was humbling myself at the very back of the field.  You win some, you lose some. I went into the race with a big head, only to regain it’s appropriate size.  I finished 2nd to last…exhausted and defeated.  Just need to practice and get into ‘cross shape’.

Aaron going over the barriers.

Wednesday after work, Aaron, Pat and I dashed up to Wrenthem for a training race, it was my saving grace for the upcoming weekend.  Almost 50 men, lined up on their bikes, and when the whistle blew, elbows were flying, tires spinning as everyone fought for position on the trails. Over the barriers, they threw themselves and back onto the bike.  I had to transform my brain into that of a man’s to compete with their aggressiveness…”that sucker cut me off…I’ll show him!!”  The training lasted until dark.  Our hearts were pounding, bodies sore, but we were all smiles.  And me, I knew what needed to be done in order to put myself at the front of the women’s field.

Saturday came and Rob and I drove up to Waterville, NH.  Northern New Hampshire was already transforming into the beautiful New England fall.  The course was at the ski resort, over some Nordic trails, through 2 sand pits, 2 tunnels, a muddy hill, and barriers.  The course was fairly technical and I was psyched!  I could do this on a single-speed and now…I had gears!  Before the start, I headed to the porto.  My water bottle was tucked into my back pocket.  As I stood up from the seat, I heard a loud KABOOM!!  What was that!??  I turned, looked around, and realized as I saw it below…my jersey was lighter and my bottle had fallen into the dark never-land… never to be used again! 

As we lined up, all six of us, I glanced around.  A couple pro-crossers, one lady with UCI world championship jersey, and me. Don’t want to be last.  Stay at the front.

I'm catching her!

We took off, and immediately I took the lead. The girl in the burnt orange kit stumbled laughing over the first set of barriers.  I quickly made a gap between the other riders.  But suddenly I became very uncomfortable. Was I going too fast…did I belong up there?  I hit an unfamiliar and uncomfortable zone…. “Snap out of it….of course you’re supposed to be at the front!” I yelled at myself. After the first lap, two riders passed me, right after the long, zig-zaggy sand pit.  I chased andstayed close to the second rider.  Through the slush, over the barriers, zig-zag through the trees, sand, through the tunnel, off the bike, over the barrier, sprint up the hill, on…down the hill…slow through the mud, around the corner, stand up…jump on the pedals.  Singletrack. Over the bridge.  “Go Melissa…you almost have her!” Around the bushes, up a hill, down hill…tight turn, through the tunnel of water. Splash. Wet feet.  Across the grass, in andout of the turns.  Step on the gas!  Across the gravel, into the sand.  Off the bike, shoulder it, and run…weaving through the sandy maze.  On the bike, over the bridge….closer andcloser to the girl in blue.  Finally, I pass her!   I stand up and build a gap. 

Putting down the pain.

Lap after lap….I think I’m going to finish in second place!  But wait…I look back and see another face passing the girl in blue!  She makes her way forward each lap.  My body is becoming fatigued as I jump on and off the bike. Two laps to go and I hear her breathing down my neck.  I panic and push on.  Over the bridge and through the bushes…I hear a scream.  What was that?!!  “You’ll be fine!”  I hear someone yell….the girl behind me was getting chased by a dog!!  She was getting closer than ever!  The sad pit.  I threw myself off the bike, and ran.  She was so close.  Suddenly I feel my rear wheel catch a post as I shoulder the bike.  I tug and the bike releases and smacks me in the head.  Ouch.  I regain my balance, but it was too late, she had made her move.  She had me, mentally and physically.  I was done for. 

“Don’t give up,” I thought and chased on but it was too late.  The last lap and I was defeated. I finished 3rd.  But, third is good after a weekend in the back!  Smiling, I went to the podium and accepted my$$ and goodie bag of a ski pass, ginger ale, and maple syrup.

Bag of goodies!

I returned home, semi resembling a beaten-wife. Sunday, I made Aaron waffles. ”Bring home the bacon,” he says.

Although it was a long weekend, I did not travel to any races.  The weekend was full of riding and excitement.  Excitement of all types: laughing, crying, fear, pain.  I experienced the whole spectrum.  As I type this, my right eye is very dilated and blurred (I’m partially blinded) from my exciting commute today.  But, my tale begins on Sunday.

An old man once told me as I sat by his bedside, many summers ago, that his dying wish would be to float up to the clouds.  Three weeks ago, he made his peaceful journey.  Sunday morning, a group of us drove up to Bolton, MA, an hour north, and did a ride called, “Climb the Clouds”.  The ride goes all the way to the top of Wachusett, where the Fitchburg road race was held.  We were all very tired that morning as Bill had held a wonderful BBQ the night before.  We had been out late and were recovering from the “Chocolate dessert wine” that Keith had brought. It was amazing, but had effects for the morning after that included extreme fatigue. Keith was laughing.  Aaron and I were cursing.  The roads were hilly and crossed beautiful farm country.  It was so beautiful, yet everyone was very quiet as we rode along. I felt like I was riding in Europe.  The ride took us to the very top of Wachusette where you could look out and see the Boston skyline, 60 miles away.  It took your breath away and a cool breeze blew. Autumn was coming. We rode back and I was getting fatigued. I held on. We had to enjoy the moment in the clouds. 

The group after our 62 mile ride.

The ride took only the morning, and we were back to our apartment by 2pm.  Aaron and I were so tired…the lack of sleep from the week had caught up to us.  We slept for almost 3 hours, and when 5pm hit, I gasped awake and shot up from the pillow. It was time to get up. Se we watched a movie, had dinner, and then the first phone call,  “Hi Aaron, it’s Mom, Grandma passed away at 5pm your time today.”  I could see Aaron’s nostrils flaring as she spoke, but he didn’t cry.  He never cries.  Grace had been in the nursing home for years with alzheimer’s and had been going down hill, so we were expecting this and almost felt a sense of relief.  “She’s in the clouds now,” I thought. The moment I had awaken from my sleep, she had taken her last breath.

We visited Grace after the wedding in December.

The afternoon turned to evening and we were almost ready to turn to bed when the second call came,  “Hi Melissa, it’s your brother Mark.  I was told to call you.  Your cousin Brandy committed suicide this afternoon.  I’m so sorry.”  I was paralyzed.  I barely knew her because she was so much older than I, but I could hardly believe that she would take her life.  My eyes swelled.

The night was about to end in tears when Aaron checked his email.  Our friend Pat had send out an email advertising a “recovery” ride for the following day. He had posted the definition of ‘recovery’ as to emphasise an easy spin.  Aaron’s reply and the dialogue was as follows:

AARON:

How about this definition of ”recovery” from Urban Dictionary:

1.  Recovery
 1. A vague term used for the world’s oldest profession.
2. The act of prostitution.
3. Getting a john
-Hey Rhonda, where are you working now?
-Oh, I’ve been doing some recovery in Newark.
- ::puzzled:: hmmm…

Here is the Link: http://recovery.urbanup.com/1935249

I think I will go for a cross recovery ride….

KEITH:

I’m trying to reconcile your earlier definition of “recovery” in combination with the word “cross” . . . Hmmmm, lots of potential there for commentary of all sorts . . . I’ll just let your imaginations run wild.

AARON:

Funny Keith, very funny!

To better explain…Cross “recovery” rides are usually “Pimpin”
Also from urban dictionary…

Pimpin:
 1) To work it with a member of the opposite sex
2) A compliment used when someone is wearing platinum chains, Fubu™
clothes, etc.
3) An object of high appeal

also see pimpette
1) Ricky is pimpin wit dem hoes
2) Damn dawg, your pimpin it with that chain
3) That Jaguar is pimpin
Oh Yea!!!

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt! The night ended with a smile.

Monday morning Aaron and I slept in, and got up to my inventive apple-oat waffles.  They were inventive!  Then we headed to the shop to work on our cross bikes for our epic “cross recovery” ride.  My new cross bike wasn’t in yet, so I was trying to reconcile my orange-steel fixie.  Aaron had gotten his new Trek a few days before so he was finishing building the bike.  Our friend Robb stopped by and he was ready for the best cross “recovery” ride of his life!! 

Aaron and I hitting the trails.

We hit all our favorite trails; rocks, mud,   and dirt.  We did it all!  It was like life had been infused back into my body.  My blood was flowing, I was laughing! We had burs all over our socks and our legs were freshly scratched from the branches.  It felt so good to be dirty again.  Cross season had officially begun!  After what seemed like a quick moment in time, 2 hours had passed and we rode back to the shop.  The shop is located across a busy intersection and you have to ride down a steep hill to get to the lights.  Since I was riding my fixie, I had no brakes. The only thing slowing me down was my back-pedal motion. At the top of the hill Aaron commented, “Melissa, your front chain ring is so roached!!”  “I know, tell me!”  I laughted.  “Well, be careful coming down the hill!” He said this before he and Robb took off.  I’d gone down this hill a million times on my fixie, so it was nothing to me, but suddenly, it became my terror ride as I heard a “clink” sound and realized my chain had fallen off.  “Oh-shit!  I have no brakes!”  I gasped.  “AARON!!!  AAAAARRRROOOONNN!!!”  I screamed as I came plowing down the hill.   The intersection was coming up. I swerved, trying to slow the bike.  All the traffic!  I looked to my left, there was Boch Collision Center.  Nope, not crashing there.  I looked to my right, there was a patch of grass and bushes.  I screamed at Robb to watch out, as I went around him and turned into the grass and finally stopping in the bushes.  I stood up without even a scratch, “I’m ALIVE!!!  It feels so good to be alive!!”  My heart was pounding. We finished off our ride with a refreshing Sam Adams and bourbon chaser.

I landed without a scratch...my new bike will have brakes.

After an exciting weekend, I had an early morning as I needed to be at the office by 7am.  I ran out the apartment door, hopped on my bike and took off down the sidewalk.  I wasn’t but 20 feet from the apartment when the commuter bus drove by and created a gust of wind that forced a small but irritating particle into my right eye.  I thought nothing of it as I put my shades on and headed to work.  But the morning dragged out as my eye was swollen and irritated beyond belief.  I could barely focus at the meeting and the eye-wash would not take away the shard in my eye.  I finally gave in and went to the optomotrist.  It was a piece of metal.  It had given me so much grief all morning. I returned to work wearing my Oakley’s as my eye was dilated and earned the nickname, “BONO.”

So there you are…our ride to the clouds and excitement for the weekend.  Sometimes when you fall down, you just need to pick yourself up and try, try, try again.  All it might take is a little research on urbandictionary.com to do the trick.  Worked for me!

With love, for Grandma Grace and Brandy.

Me and Aaron after 'our' successful day.

Last week, Aaron and I decided to do a road race in CT over the weekend, with Aaron’s customer Robb.  This was Robb’s first race ever, and Friday when we checked the radar, it was looking quite gloom.  Torrential downpour, tropical storm and possible hurricane, was the forecast.  The race promoter emailed us, “race is on, rain or shine.” So we were committed.  I figured Robb would either come out of the weekend hating cycling all together or love it more than ever.

My race was the first to go off.  It was pouring, but mentally I didn’t care because I had been expecting it.  There were about 20 women who lined up to the start line.  We had 3 -10mile loops ahead of us.  Once we were off, I moved to the front and started pushing the pace immediately.  I had a sense that the other riders wanted to slow the pace because of the wet conditions, but I pushed forward.  The course started with 3 moderate rollers, and then more technical back roads with a few tight, blind corners.  I stayed on the first 2 wheels. After a tight and windy descent, we came to a longer hill, almost mimicking Moose Hill, a few miles from my house.  A few girls tried accelerating, so I jumped, and stomped on the pedals, all the way up and over.  As I crested, I looked back and noticed a gap had formed, so I laid on the gas and took off, chasing the lead car. The roads became longer and straighter, so I hunched down and time-trialed away.  In my head, I wanted to win the race so bad and keep away for the next 27 miles. The water from the rain kicked up from the road and into my eyes.  Shortly after my attack, my right eye began to burn.  Some oil from the road had gotten mixed with the water.  My eye felt as if it were on fire, so I kept it closed and rubbed it every now and then.

We were "singing in the rain".

With only 3 miles until the first lap was through, I was caught by the group on another hill.  This hill was near train tracks and as I stood up to climb, my tires lost traction and slid back and forth across the pavement.  I sat down, and the traction was better.  It reminded me of the time my dad put sand bags in the back of my 1978 ford courier truck, to keep it from sliding on the icy roads.  Immediately I tucked into the group to rest from my long attack.  I knew I needed to reserve as much as possible if I had any intentions of winning.

It was the second lap and my eye still burned. I could hardly see as water was falling from the sky and spraying up from the road. Every now and then I opened my right eye to test and see if it was ok, but it stung and I closed it. Water poured down the road. I had to trust my judgment.  As we rounded the second lap, up the first few hills, I felt stronger than ever.  I moved back up to the third wheel.  As we came to the hill that  I had escaped on the previous lap, we picked up the pace.  I stayed on wheels and decided to hang low.  But as we crested the hill, one of the riders yelled, “there’s 3 of us and we have a gap.”  I called out, “Quick pulls ladies!”  We worked hard to increase the gap from the group. As we came to 5 Ks from the end of the lap, the girls began to slow.  “We’re ok, ” one said.  I shook my head in disagreement.  This was a race.  No time for breaks.  I planned my escape as I sat on their wheels.

The final lap came and my eye was finding some relief and every now and then, I could open it.  I pushed to the front in upped the pace.  We came to the hills, one final time.  The decent was faster and my heart raced more than ever as I leaned into the turn with water pouring over the road.  The hill came and one of the riders attacked.  She was in too big of a gear to create a gap, so I took the opportunity and jumped.  I took off, pushing hard, committing 100% to this break as I wanted to win more than ever now.  I was strong.  I deserved it. I hunched low and motored away, trying to catch the yellow lead car.  Every now and then I looked back and saw no-one, but never did I let up.  I looked down, I was pushing 25mph.  Closer and closer.  All I could think of was standing in the dark that Tuesday, after the last Wampi training crit, drinking a beer with the guys, and ex-pro Fader, saying, “There’s a big difference between 1st and 2nd place.  It’s all in your head, and you have to have this desire more than anything to have that win, and once you start winning, there is nothing else that will satisfy you…it’s all you want.”

I came to the turn, up the hill.  I looked back, I couldn’t see a soul.  I looked ahead and there was the finish line.  I closed my fist and pulled my elbow to my chest, “yes,” I said under my breath.

1st Place!!

Robb riding strong.

Aaron was so excited and surprised at the same time.  Robb was thrilled about the win and his race was starting soon. After I changed out of my soaking uniform, into my soft hoodie, Aaron and I watched Robb and Dave(from Landry’s) races.  It was both Robb’s and Dave’s first road race and they both tore it up!!  Dave placed 2nd in his race and Robb was 12th.  They both finished in the pack.  Aaron’s race was starting soon and the rain and the wind soon picked up.

Robb giving Aaron the break-down of the race.

Aaron hanging tight after lap 1.

Aaron started in the cat 3’s with 20 other guys. I held the umbrella over his head until the start. When they left, Robb and I headed to the truck to warm up and wait until Aaron’s group came by.  The first lap around, one of the riders had a gap on the group by almost 1.5 minutes.  Aaron was tucked into the group.  The second lap around, the same guy still had a gap and Aaron was pulling the field.  Robb and I started making bets on if the break would hold.  The third lap around the same guy was still 2 minutes up the road.  Robb won that bet!  He has to be tiring out….30 miles alone!  Finally, on the 4th lap, we saw the lead truck, and I started running up the road to cheer.  Suddenly, I was caught off guard as Aaron was the first rider, gaped from the group!  “AARON!!”  I screamed with excitement.  He looked back at the group and took off.  I didn’t know if he could hold the gap.  Would the group organize and chase???  I felt so much anticipation waiting for him to come through.  And finally, he came, up over the hill, all alone.  He had a significant gap on everyone.  I started yelling and screaming with excitement!!  He won!!!

Aaron after his big win!

After the race, the other riders congratulated Aaron.  Someone said, “don’t they make a cute couple?!”  “Are you two husband and wife?”  “Yup,” I replied, grinning ear to ear. Team Ross tore it up today.