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I spent this past Labor Day on a group ride. I figured it would be warm, and I was hungover from way too much Pinot at Frecky's wedding the day/night before, so I brought out the big guns for this one:
Two 24 oz. insulated Polar water bottles.
I got them at the start of summer, because they were on sale at pretty much every bike shop I entered. And because they now had all kinds of nifty colors. And mainly because of a haunting memory: I'd gone on a sweltering July 4 ride last summer (my first summer on a bike) with some other folks, and when we got to the top of Pinehurst, the guy with the insulated bottles still had an ice-cold beverage in his bottle cage. The rest of us had hot water. Except me. I had nothing left at all. And so he shared his ice-cold beverage with me. Yeah!
Before you go out and buy yourself an insulated Polar water bottle, I feel compelled to warn you about the "Insulated Bottle Jealousy" phenomenon. It's very real.
People will look you in the eye and ask you doubtfully whether they work. Then, when you tell them they do, the look of skepticism will deepen, and they will inform you that they are taking your brand new Black Sheep water bottle, the one with your name on it that you got for your Black Sheep Adventures trip, the one you were going to use to replace your "so 2007" Black Sheep water bottle from last year's trip, and they'll say it's because they lost theirs, and then they'll guck it all up and say the bottle cage did it and never give it back to you.
And some people will say, as they did on the ride this past Labor Day (after you killed both bottles in about 5 seconds because you were so dehydrated and asked the group oh so vulnerably for a re-fuelling stop at the next opportunity):
You know, it doesn't really hold 24 oz.
And you'll be alarmed, dismayed, and appalled.
It says 24 oz. right on the bottle! you'll shout. I'm alarmed! Dismayed! Appalled! They wouldn't lie right on the bottle!
There will be snickers. Some smartass will mention Atlanta (never mind). No one will believe in the fabulousness of your bottles.
And then you'll be glad you happened upon this post after your AA meeting, because you'll just send them this video:
*pause for "clean room" laboratory preparations, perfectly legal music download, and professional studio-editing of video production*
Would you like to see my beautiful bathroom with no walls, sink, shower, or door?
I'm showering at the gym these days (which is fine, except that sometimes I work out twice a day, and sometimes I don't want to run near my gym).
Kitchen demolition is next. I don't think there's a kitchen at the gym, and anyway, kitchening at the gym wouldn't work. So this is all great for my self-pity party, except that both my apartment room-by-room demolitions (ongoing since about July 1) and my self-pity party are getting a little old. I only really have control over one of those. So I have a bike date on Saturday, and we'll see.
Funny that the Wizard of Oz came up recently (thank you Beth). Here's a picture of my Dorothy shoes. 
I bought them in June at a yard sale, and I've been hiding them away so all the contractors and subcontractors and plumbers and electricians and sheetrock workers stomping all over my apartment won't think I'm a total freak (my other shoes sit in my hallway, in plain sight, and they keep getting moved around to make way for more holes in walls and whatnot). They're brand new! I thought they'd be great for Halloween. Hopefully I'll get invited to some sort of Halloween dealio and I won't have to walk far, because these things hurt.
There's been a tragic accident, involving a tall building and a piano.
And so I'm single again still.
Bring it.
Tropic Thunder: The funniest movie I've seen in a long time. And one of my spin songs from this past week was playing during the credits! Weird.
I had a great ride with Marty yesterday. I'd asked him if we could start late and do a chill ride, because I was feeling weak, and because the day was shaping up to be a scorcher.
Scorcher 6. This time it's different.
He said, "sure." So we met up at 10, cruised over to Cal Berkeley to watch the last of the tree sitters' shifts up in the last occupied tree, which was one of several that were finally being bulldozed right then and there, with the police out in force, after months and months of anti-tree-killing tree-sitting demonstrations (I can't believe I didn't bring my camera). And then we made a few false starts up into the hills (we were halfway up when we were turned around by the gatekeepers of some lab, where they were probably doing top-secret brain experiments on newly-flatlander-former-treesitters) and then tooled around a pretty seminary up in Tilden that Marty showed me, and then did the 3 Bears (hot!!!) and El Toyonal-Lomas Cantadas [El Toyonal, from Camino Pablo to Lomas Cantadas, 192 meters climbing in 2.3km distance. Lomas Cantadas from El Toyonal to Grizzly Peak, 152 meters climbing in 1.2km distance (total 344 meters climbing in 4.5 km). Steepest section, 15% consistent grade for about 1km], for a total of 50 miles. I've only done the El Toyonal route 3 times, each time on a different bike. First, as a brand newbie on Wendy's old steel too-big Marinoni in March or early April 2007 (Marty's a twisted, twisted man), then on my first bike a couple months later, and then on my new crash replacement bike over a year after that. My new bike seems to have liked it the least. My front wheel kept jumping off the road on the steepest portions, I'm sure because of the upright positioning (though I'd thought it was lower than my first bike). Got my already redlining heartrate going faster, just contemplating a wheelie up a steep hill, while clipped in.
And chill? Hm. Everything's relative. But truth be told, neither of us would have done it alone, and it was great to get a nice hard workout, we agreed. Plus, I'd gotten to sleep in a bit!
So during the ride, Marty reminded me of the time we'd first met. We'd all gone out for pizza at Lanesplitters after Mark's spin class. This was before I'd started cycling; Marty said I was super quiet in those days, kept to myself with my baseball cap covering 3/4 of my face at spin class, and he couldn't decide if that meant I was shy or stupid, and then he ultimately decided that it didn't really matter because I was pretty.
Does this guy know how to compliment a gal, or what?! And what depth of character! Joking aside, it did kinda scare me that shyness could be mistaken for stupidity, though I know outgoing people make a better first impression. Wait...we did agree it was shyness...?
Marty strongly recommended Tropic Thunder; he'd just seen it the night before. Scott was kind enough to indulge me. And now I must recommend it to you. Absolute, pure brilliance.
And now, an official 2008 Team Oakland photo, taken this morning, courtesy of Lauren's camera (I'd only managed to capture the gals with the green machine; it was early.):
said the checkout girl at Trader Joe's.
I'd made it there at 8:45 pm, just in the nick of time, after spinning 910 calories out of my body. It was my only chance to go. I was trying to be good, you know, get things done.
Immediate salivation surge. "No" I said, rapt as she bagged my two boxes of mochi. I had just spun 910 calories out of my body, after all. I really did try my best. I knew I had lettuce and an heirloom tomato in the fridge, so I'd gotten the rest of the makings for salad! I got low fat yogurt!**
"Oh. What are you going to have?"
How could she be so cruel? "Whatever's closest to my mouth when I get home."
But then I thought about what I was trying to accomplish here, and, once home, I set about making a salad.
Is there anything in the world more tragic than an unopened bag of soupy, once premium baby greens, and a once-succulent $5 heirloom tomato from Whole Foods now rotting in a plastic baggie, after you've just gone salad accessory shopping?
It wasn't at all fabulous. But at least I didn't eat the mochi*.
*Update: I had some mochi. Stay away from the Green Tea flavor. I know it seems like a good idea. But just trust me.
**Update #2: So...turns out it's high fat yogurt. Oops.
---
My BFF finally made it to spin tonight, after a long hiatus. Yay!!! He made things interesting, like when he asked me conversationally if I was hydrating, while I was at threshold and trying to force out instructions without hurling. And like when we were about 8 minutes through our second hill drill (this one was 18 minutes long) and I let on that we still had about 10 minutes left, and he yelled
"WHAT?!"
in a knee-jerk reaction kind of way, like I was completely insane. And everyone looked up, like maybe they should re-consider the drill. I sensed a mutiny. Classic Larry. Don't know why I thought it was Dave who'd said it, but I was at threshold again, and trying really hard to remember what minute we were on and not hurl.
The jury's out on Cuban hip-hop for Slow Frequency Revolutions, but I had to try it.
Ran a 9-mile trail race yesterday. I got 5th out of 13 in my age group. Well it was really 6th, because Courtenay would have easily won our age group if she hadn't been so far off the front that she'd gotten lost, tacking on an additional 2.5 miles.
Solidly mediocre. That's OK, I'm still in the beginning stages of my running training plan, such as it is (I have no running training plan). Not that I'd be any better over time, but I did notice that if I'd been a year older, I'd have won the 40-49 age group. Heehee.
I stretched during the awards ceremony/raffles (I had my camera at the ready, but they didn't pronounce Courtenay the winner of her 11.5 mile race, because there wasn't supposed to be an 11.5 mile race, but I think they should have made one, retroactively), thinking how brilliant I was to do so, because I wouldn't be sore the next day. Then, I realized I was right near Target, so I decided to go pick up some stuff. I stopped at B Cubed* (next door) first, and sat on all 4 floor models of their massage chairs, rotating through for about an hour, staring into space and holding a pillow that I ended up not buying because I was way too relaxed to stand in line, and did I really need a stupid pillow? And then I ultimately decided to skip Target because did I really need to go to stupid Target?
I was terribly sore this morning when I hobbled out of bed (My quads! No fair, I stretched! My heel! My heel?? That's a new one.) to prepare for a ride arranged with Mel when she'd called me at midnight, after a drink-filled evening. But it turns out, you use different muscles to ride, so it was actually OK. You do use the same electrolytes though; my thirst was insatiable.
*Bed, Bath, and Beyond
When I got home from work today, I was irritated to see a postcard stuck in my driver's side window. I hate it when people do that. I yanked it off the rubber dealio and headed for the trashcan, just inches away from me, and as I got ready to toss it in, I read it. DoneRight Auto Spa.
Looked around.
My car had been the only one accosted.
My headlights are quite yellow. Kinda like a blackish yellow, really. I actually thought the bulbs needed replacing the other day, but then I realized they're just that dirty.
I kept the card. Free pick up and delivery. I'm going to call them tomorrow (card says "call today" but they are not the boss of me).
