Training - Finally!

Sooooo...you were thinking this was all about my quest to be a supergirl and sharing my training in the process. And you were noticing that there seemed to be a lack of, well, any training. That, my friend, is about to change.

We are actually well into our training for Seattle to Portland (200 miles in 2 days - ugh!) But the weather has not been cooperating much at all. We have been having some gorgeous days - during the week. And then thunderstorms and winds gusting up to 40 mph to celebrate the weekend. We made it all of 5 miles once when M decided it was too nasty out. And if he doesn't think it is riding weather, it must be absolutely horrid. I've seen him head out to ride in a blizzard.

But, finally, this weekend - sun!

So here is a summary of the training:

Saturday: 67.8 miles. Let's just say 68 shall we?

M was thinking of racing the 6/12 hours of Stoney on Saturday. But Friday, I got it into my head that I really just wanted to ride the tandem. I called him and he said if he didn't race, he would really torture me on the tandem. For some reason, I agreed.

When we started at the lovely hour of 9 am due to someone slacking around and making us late. Not it! (If you say not it, even if you were it, you are no longer it right?) Since I had agreed to pretty much give up all control of this ride, the route was planned by M. The idea was to go on 13 Mile to Meadowbrook then wind into Northville. From there, we would head all the way down to the other end of Hines to visit the gardens, come back to Northville, then go around Walled Lake (the long way) and head home. Doesn't this sound like a LONG bike ride?

Later M told me that he was worried at the beginning because I was not really helping at all. But after one stop to change gloves (yeah, I brought extras) and fix my seat, I decided to improve my mood and we made it to Northville without incident. At this point, I was thinking, "ALL the way down Hines? Really?" but the problem is that the cute little community gardens are ALL the way down Hines. And I love the gardens. I will pretty much agree to anything to get M to ride the gardens route. You go until Hines is done and slip onto the bike path. Over the river and through the woods, past the parking lot and around the corner are these funny little plots, each fenced off with something different. Handmade scarecrows watch over every veggie you can imagine, lots of weeds and random little flowers tucked in too. This is where we get to stop and rest and I wander around to see what is growing this week. Warning - if you ride with me, you will eventually be forced into a garden walk in the middle of your bike ride. It is unavoidable.

Surprisingly, I was still pretty energetic at this point. We hopped back on the bike and discussed (negotiated) the further biking plan (cracking this woman up in her garden bed - wish I remember what was said). We finished out the path which dumps you out on Michigan Ave. You turn right away to go one street over and have a little tour of Dearborn. And to my delight, this. Like hundreds of dogs, all on their best behavior and strutting their stuff.

We then wound our way to Hines and headed back. Into the wind. And my butt started to hurt. I told M that I thought I needed to stop to eat something and he said to wait and I pouted. Which means I pushed much less hard on the pedals. Up the hill. But M was determined to get to the stop he had designated and was not giving in. I threatened to pass out and fall off the bike. Nope. Then we got to the stop and I pouted a bit more until I saw this cute little bird who was feeding her babies and we had to be friends again so I could show M the bird. Also, I ate an apple which always improves my mood. Also, M decided I really needed to eat some more substantial food so we should stop in Northville to get lunch. And gluten-free lemon cake from Tuscan Cafe. See, I had to be nice after that.

We made it to Northville. I am not going to pretend I didn't start having a little discussion about my butt and how it was tired of the bike seat. And I doubt M would pretend that he didn't just ignore me. We were at 50+ miles and the longest training ride we had done this year so far was just under 40. So I was getting a bit tired.

Before breakfast, we stopped into Town & Country bike shop to check on the Cadabra. It's a long story, but M won it from Kona (through the Fat Cyclist) about a year ago. Apparently there were production or shipping or we never really figured it out delays. The rep kept saying the bike was coming and we kept waiting. You'll never guess - the bike had finally arrived! Of course, we couldn't take it with us since we were already on a bike, so we said we would come back later. An here's the best part - over lunch, M said we should go back the shortest route so he could hop in the van and come back to get the bike. HAHA! Saved by the bike!

We still had a bit of a ride in front of us, plus a stop at CVS to pick up Epson salts for my planned long recovery bath, but we made it. We hopped in the van and went right back to Northville (weird) and fetched the new cool bike. I got the have the first ride in the parking lot. It has a full suspension and is all bouncy. Cool!

Than, the biggest surprise of all, I went home and didn't fall over and die. I gardened until it was dark.

Sunday: 24.something. Let's just say 25.

We arrived at the TNT team meeting place at just before 8. The team was not riding until 8:30, but M had to work later so we were starting off early and cutting it short. We rode for an hour when I decided I was just done. In no uncertain terms. Apparently my bike shorts had rubbed on my butt cheek the day before in a weird way and I was not pleased (TMI?) And we still had to go all the way back. I felt guilty until M said he hadn't thought he was going to get me to ride as far as he had, so I decided that he had gotten a bonus and we headed back. We passed the team going in the opposite direction and everyone yelled go team. Yep, we are a cult, but a good one.

I went home and napped. A lot!

Then went to buy a plant. Which apparently means three plants and two little 4-packs of herbs.

So there you have it. Training. And I have heard a rumor that there will be more next weekend.

The Airport

I drove by the airport today. Coming home from dinner at a friend's house. It was dark so the airport was all lights. I was struck by this deep feeling of what I guess would have to be called nostalgia. Sort of this empty feeling, just for a minute, missing what I never really had.

In my past life, I used to travel for business - a lot. Not the salesperson who doesn't even have an apartment because he would never live in it level of travel, but enough to be able to breeze through security like a pro. I was out of town for maybe one week out of each month. Various places, one year it was pretty much Dallas, another year was mostly Milwaukee. And for maybe a year and a half, it was just everywhere and anywhere. New York, LA, London, even a few weeks in Brazil. To produce photo shoots. With models and photographers, sometimes even famous ones. I met lots of people and we all hung out, went to fabulous restaurants and were nice and friendly with each other. Since I had the power to hire, everyone was actually super friendly.

And when I was in the office, I was pretty much either recovering from/talking about where I had just been or getting ready for the next jaunt. It was difficult to make personal plans because I often didn't know when exactly it would be time to head out again.

The creative director told the head of production that if I didn't slow down, I was headed for a heart attack. When he relayed this to me, I smiled proudly. Then went off to yell into my phone. Or chat merrily. Depending on whether the costs were in and the set was built and the line of skinny hot chicks looked "aspirational," not just hot. This all got me sent to manage the still photo portion of a commercial shoot in Brazil with the directive that when I was not on set, I was to be lying by the pool with a drink in my hand and relaxing. On location, my darn rented cell phone only sort of worked if I stood in the right spot and yelled - at the account guy who called me every 10 minutes since he hadn't made it down to the shoot yet. But every evening, we all floated around in the pool with the fountains. The first night, in my undies because my luggage didn't quite make it there at the same time as me.

It was exciting. It was fabulous. It was too good to last.

I remember sitting in some fabulous bar on top of some tall building in LA with some super gorgeous photographer (never figured out if he was gay) and thinking, "Is he really enjoying our conversation or is he only here because I am the customer and he has to do this to try to get more business?" and conversely, "Am I really enjoying time spent with this person or do I just like that I am in this hot bar with this hot photographer, wasting the hour before I have to head to the airport and move on again?" And everyone I was around every day could inspire pretty much the same set of questions.

The budget was cut, the client left, the well ran dry. And I realized that I had kind of lost touch. I had spent so much time with people who were being nice to me because that was part of the job, that I now assumed everyone was always like that. Anyway, why bother getting to really know anyone because I would just be flying off before we could get too deep into anything.

Cut to tonight. Driving by that airport, somewhere I used to know so well, loved and hated in just the right mix. I had this urge to just drive in, jump on a plane and chase am adventure. I sometimes miss the feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next week, but having confidence that it would be exciting and new. That there would be a constant flow of people who did my bidding, at least I sure hoped they did and, if not, I could just threaten to not pay them.

Instead I drove to my home to hang with M and the cats.

Currently, I work part time. For a small organization full of people who truly want to make our state, and the world for that matter, a better place. I haven't been on a plane in about a year. And that was for a vacation.

I am learning to form real friendships. I am having to realize that sometimes people just like me for me. I am actually enjoying it.

So that is me, gutted. But you damn well better believe that if I am hanging with you today, I really do want to consider you a friend. For real.

Heroes

I heard a cool interview on my way home from work today. At the end, he said his mom once told him, "I'd love you if you were a garbageman." What a powerful thing, a mother's love for her child. It reminded me of a story about my mom that I will share with you on this (two days after) Mother's Day.

When I was a kid, for some reason I got it in my head that someone was going to come up the stairs in the middle of the night and hurt me. I think it may have been related to my considerable skill at sneaking downstairs, hiding in the doorway and watching whatever late night TV show the babysitter had on without her knowing. This was not a smart choice and I stopped once I saw (no clue what show) a robbery scene where a group of people got herded into the backroom of some business and were gunned down by the bad guys, execution style. They lay on the floor and bled and moaned - seriously, this would have given me nightmares if I saw it today, but I think I was like 10 or so. After that, I stayed in bed when put there but had to play over and over in my head how I would react in a situation like that. How I would get down on the floor quickly so they would think I was hit and how, since I was a kid and skinny, the others could fall on me and no one would notice that I was still breathing.

One evening my mom came home and saw that I was still awake. She asked why and, while I did not confess to the TV part, I asked what would happen if someone came up the stairs to get me. I explained that I had the closest bedroom to the top of the stairs so I would be first in line. My mom looked at me with a fierceness that I had never seen before and said that if anyone ever tried to hurt me, they would have to get past her first. No matter what, she would be there in front of me, fighting them off. And that was it, I should never forget it.

So that was it, I went to sleep. I still think that was the scariest thing I have ever seen on TV, but it lost its power over me. I knew that there would be times when I would have to face my own real-life bad guys, but now I also knew that there was never a time when my mother was not there for me - literally, figuratively, whatever. Because she said she would and that's what mothers do.

I am officially scared of my yard

Here's the short story.

1. We have a lot of landscaping that needs to be done. We are overrun by invasive species and need to fight back.

2. We get a load of wood chips in the work dump truck. It is around 1pm.

3. We decide to dump them in the back in the one spot we had cleared of buckthorns. You know, to smother the baby ones.

4. Apparently my yard is not made of dirt, but instead it is pudding.

5. Dump. Drive. Spin. Sink.

6. We assess (Note the double s at the end. It is very important to include both. Unlike on the status report that used to get sent to a client who is not longer a client.) the situation. This thing is kind of stuck. OK, really stuck.

(There is this sub plan that happened about this time where we drove backwards, but it is not really worth discussing aside to say it turned out to be a bad plan and resulted in further stuck-ness!)

7. We decide to go get more equipment. Bobcat, here we come.

8. Mark tows the Bobcat. I go to Starbucks for motivation.

9. I return. The Bobcat is also - take a guess - yep, stuck.

10. Apparently you can use the arm/bucket thing to prop up one side of the Bobcat off the wheels and drive with the wheels on the other side. You have to see it to really understand it, but somehow that thing praying-mantised its way out of the pudding and back onto safe ground.

11. The chains came out and the dump truck was hooked on. Pull, yank, tug, dump truck moves like an inch.

12. We decide that there are too many wood chips stuck under the dump truck from the fail of the backwards plan. We get shovels and sort of dig under the truck to get out the wood chips. Also we dig out the wheels which are halfway sunk into the pudding.

13. I stand up. There is a big mirror that sticks out from the truck, you know, to see in back of the dump. It is hard. I sit back down quickly.

14. There is this weird noise and Mark says MOVE as he runs to the Bobcat. Apparently it was not secured right and was considering rolling down and crushing me while I sat on the ground and pouted about my bumped head. Decided to stop pouting.

15. There is much more pulling and digging until someone (no names mentioned, but she is a smart someone) thinks that the left over plywood hanging by the gazebo could be cut down to wedge under the tires just right to make ramps under the tires to get out of the pudding.

16. Mark notices that it is nearly 6pm and says we have to stop at 6 and get ready to go out to dinner. The smart someone says to just go cut the boards and it will be perfect.

17. The smart someone is really hoping she is right.

18. Boards wedged, Mark in the Bobcat to pull, me in the dump truck to drive.

19. You should have seen the grin on my face as I drove that dump truck safely up onto the driveway.

20. D and J cooked us fabulous steaks. And J let me watch three episodes of Project Runway. Fabulous day!

Gosh, I bet you really wish I had pictures.