tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-235217112024-03-07T16:03:15.212-06:00non-coastal simulacral extravaganzafilms, photographs, cycling, technology, and food enjoyed (mostly) in beautiful nebraskaelisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.comBlogger859125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-36026814156821898232014-06-20T10:48:00.001-05:002014-06-20T10:48:07.670-05:00Seeing beauty or boringI had a long drive across Pennsylvania yesterday. It gave me a lot of time to think about this accusation I often hear when introducing myself as being from Nebraska. It goes something like this:<br />
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"Nebraska. I drove across that once. Thought it would never end. Wow, it was boring."<br />
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Generally, my rejoinder has been something along the likes of the interstate cutting through the most boring part, the beauty of the Sandhills or canyons just to the north or south, the rolling hills of prairie, etc. etc.<br />
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But yesterday, as I drove across PA, I thought to myself, "Well, if you've seen one 5 mile stretch of trees and valleys and hills, you've seen em all! But guess what? You get 200 more miles of the same thing!"<br />
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It's not that either one or the other of these landscapes is inherently beautiful or boring. They're both, depending on your mindset and perspective and home environment, I'm guessing. I really missed being able to watch the sun set. Interstates are pretty damn boring, no matter where you are -- with a few rare exceptions like in Colorado.<br />
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Bottom line, though, I do pity people who can't see beauty in vastness. I present my evidence from my Kansas-Nebraska century last weekend. Take it or leave it. <br />
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elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-25029617757654638162014-05-22T13:02:00.003-05:002014-05-22T13:02:49.241-05:00Royal 162There's this thing with gravel events. You send in a postcard months in advance. It's usually deep in the winter. You're dreaming of summer. You're eager to put training plans into place to meet this year's goal. And then, life happens...as do long-winded race write-ups...<br />
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This year, rather than making a third year in a row of the very fine, wonderfully challenging <a href="http://almanzo.com/" target="_blank">Almanzo 100</a>, I instead opted for its more ambitious companion, the Royal 162. (No, I didn't go for the 380+ mile Alexander, as much as the fellas tried to get me to change my mind the night before...) It would serve as my May Hundy-of-the-Month Club ride -- 14 months in a row -- and with a course as beautiful as the Almanzo, I was up for taking on a few more hours of scenery and a little less dust and ditch-to-ditch bike traffic at the start.<br />
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And then there was the whole thing where I took 12 credit hours, finished and defended my Masters thesis, and fell in love with someone very far away. I trained some, but not as much as last winter. My winter/spring looked more like "ride hundy/do virtually nothing but sit in front of computer or book for three weeks/panic/ride a little/fly cross country/more work/ride hundy." I knew I had miles in my legs and that after last summer, my body knew what to do, but I was a little out of practice. I graduated a week before the race. I spent the early part of the week in a real funk, contemplating cross-country moves and the vast unknown that is my professional future. My head was not in the game for a long, difficult day of riding.<br />
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I headed up Thursday with Corey, who was going to be taking on the nearly 400-mile Alexander. Chatting with Almanzo's organizer Chris Skogen at their check-in, I was absolutely switched into "happy to be there" mode. Then having dinner with the Alexander crew that night, 162 miles suddenly seemed incredibly reasonable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gasland. I need to watch the whole thing. Impressed by the director's dedication to his work. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ostrander lunch</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding with Kurt and Mike</td></tr>
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Friday, I enjoyed a mellow start to the day after Corey's early departure. Finally watched (most of) the documentary Gasland, which was on TV, and remembered why I love the medium of documentary. Met up with Mike and Kurt from Chicago, who took me on a lunch ride to a bar in Ostrander, where I ate a bunch of fried cheese curds. Noted the amazing lack of school-related stress. Napped. Joined the rest of the Lincoln crew at the check-in. Ate more pizza. Hugged far away buddies at the campground. Packed up the bike with lots of food and room for the clothes to be shed between the mid-30s at the start to the low 60s it was to be in the afternoon. Slept, restlessly. <br />
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Dustin and I met up with Matt and Butch at 6:30 to roll down to Main Street for the 7 AM start, and it was so chill and sparse in comparison to the Almanzo start. I liked it, but I also missed the overwhelming "I AM PART OF SOMETHING" feeling that being there with over 1,000 other riders gives. I'd venture about 60-70 riders started the Royal, and about 7 or 8 women, by my count. It was chilly but beautiful as Andrea Cohen and I rolled out of town. It's always so good to see that lady! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee and a cinnamon roll on Main St. before the start</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hamming it up with Andrea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBlAwyri6lsbEN9ojuAXCgFVYkKqey1uaRq_nmkanOgNNEWxd8iDlwm4kXof14XovFvwiCHouO9GVKkS14CFRScS6AyAC0FrGETa2U1o7om9uI2GQbWQ2pgJBgVhV4TgcNT4VVA/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBlAwyri6lsbEN9ojuAXCgFVYkKqey1uaRq_nmkanOgNNEWxd8iDlwm4kXof14XovFvwiCHouO9GVKkS14CFRScS6AyAC0FrGETa2U1o7om9uI2GQbWQ2pgJBgVhV4TgcNT4VVA/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the name of this road. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThqtO8EXxMI/U341zEvH8qI/AAAAAAAAQ-M/iH-Q-9mZyOU/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThqtO8EXxMI/U341zEvH8qI/AAAAAAAAQ-M/iH-Q-9mZyOU/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous morning to be riding with friends. </td></tr>
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It was much easier not to get caught up in the excitement with fewer riders and more distance to cover. Goodbye, lead pack; hello, chit chatting. I noticed lots of beautiful buildings I'd overlooked in past years. I settled into my pace, leapfrogging with several riders for the first 25 miles. By about mile 30, Dustin and I found ourselves at a very nicely matched and comfortable pace. I had regretted not hopping in with Loretta and Andrea after taking a bit longer break at one point, but we had a good pace going. I was hoping to finish in the twilight, but I had lights with me...<br />
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We got to Preston, and Matt and Butch were no longer in sight. We pulled into town, filled up water and donuts at the grocery store, put on sunscreen and shed some layers. My bags were stuffed to the brim, between my frame bag and my little handlebar burrito. While there was another town stop 63 miles in at Harmony, there would be no food to be had from there to the finish, nearly 100 miles later. Oy.<br />
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We rolled out of Preston as a group of two, Dustin and I, and we didn't see any other riders for quite some time. Then, shortly after departing from the Almanzo course and onto the Royal add-on, we missed a turn on the cues and found ourselves, one mile further, at an intersection we were supposed to be at something like 7 miles later. How frustrating is that? We saw a couple cyclists come at us from the left, one blow past from the direction we'd come from and just go on through, and then another, Mary from Minneapolis, stop to see what we were up to. Confirmed: we were just outside of Harmony, and we needed to go back a mile, turn, and do a nice, long loop to bring us back to this intersection. Honor code engage. Back we went, seeing the sign we missed in the trees. It was a pretty loop, but it felt so excruciating to ride these miles out of the way of our goal. It was warm and it was lunch time. But so it goes. We got them ridden. <br />
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When we got to Harmony, we headed for the main street, where we found a bar offering "Drunch" -- get your drink and brunch on. YOU GOT IT. There were a few other riders there already, and not too long after we got there, Jason & Aaron from Lincoln joined us, too. We all ordered beers and big plates of breakfast food. Don't think I've ever eaten eggs and hashbrowns and toast so fast. This was going to be a long stop -- the one that prevented my daylight finish -- but it was worth it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qDHKzFuRxmE/U341zLKSWxI/AAAAAAAAQ-c/kPHqX_5FmTM/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qDHKzFuRxmE/U341zLKSWxI/AAAAAAAAQ-c/kPHqX_5FmTM/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drunch menu</td></tr>
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After Harmony, Dustin and I connected with Luigi and Steven, who were both riding fixed gear All-City Big Blocks with huge gearing and had driven through the night from NYC to get to the race. They were fun to ride and chat with, and the pace was probably a bit too high for right after a big lunch. After 7 or 8 miles, we saw two familiar figures on the crest of the next hill -- Matt and Butch! They'd opted to skip a stop in Harmony for some snacks on the side of the road, and so now we had a little group of six to head into what felt like a really long stretch of headwind.<br />
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Our group strung out into solo suffer efforts. We were just a bit under 100 miles in. The wind was definitely stronger than forecasted, trade-off for the slightly less cold morning, perhaps. When we finally turned north, we took a break from the wind in the ditch. The psychological benefit of knowing we were at the far point and heading back toward Spring Valley was palpable. Butch, however, was feeling pretty ragged from the course. He had me look at the map to see how far it was if he headed directly back. He didn't make a decision at that point, and as we left the ditch, I thought he and Matt were following right behind. A few miles later, though, and we didn't see them again the rest of the race. It was sad to part ways, but the one thing you can count on riding with Matt is that if you want to keep going but are struggling to know why, he'll keep you going. I sincerely hoped I wouldn't be needing that skill set later...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YleQlTNTJtU/U3433GeMwvI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/-nW6JxMGa4s/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YleQlTNTJtU/U3433GeMwvI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/-nW6JxMGa4s/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ditch stop. Not feeling so awesome. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYLjFwIu37v3nKEPoepvab2DAbEswFWXKu3M5-esp5kLmC2vsdett4D91S9GkwrJLwvcw30hUbM2q8c34FBpT6juSgXZt9Ks1au015zjZHWJq_9XaVQMzo994Oyr9H69u7ZxrMg/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYLjFwIu37v3nKEPoepvab2DAbEswFWXKu3M5-esp5kLmC2vsdett4D91S9GkwrJLwvcw30hUbM2q8c34FBpT6juSgXZt9Ks1au015zjZHWJq_9XaVQMzo994Oyr9H69u7ZxrMg/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this hawk was sent for me from afar to remind me to keep going.</td></tr>
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The next stretch of road was absolutely beautiful and peaceful. We were in Amish country, and we'd pass by fields being plowed by teams of four horses. The farmers and their children always smiled and waved, even from far off in the field. After all, their horses and plows were quiet enough to hear our bikes coming down the gravel. The sides of the roads were dotted with signs reading "Do Not Spray, Organic Farm," and I thought a whole lot about how good it is that these farming communities lasted long enough through the industrial agriculture revolution to make it to today, when their sustainable practices are valued once again. It was such a stark contrast to scenes from earlier, getting dusted by huge farming equipment that nearly took up the whole road, or to later in the evening, as the sun set and the giant tractors with bright headlights were still out in the fields, roaring away. As we passed through a small Amish settlement that was home to what appeared to be an Adirondack chair factory, a family out for a walk asked where we were from. "Nebraska!" I said. "Wow, really?!" answered the father, smiling broadly. It was a beautiful moment. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjid4GL1e1nkO2F6VQbPes5gWeWEaQ8_g55I3Mjw8lYyT9tfB3x_IstLLJt_KaQRvszKiOb7hPed-yMzaOuXdQX4mj7FIugRzFSEQ7Geq3s5XPfHf6dyNYJVNFNuQzHQcVyDQLGLQ/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjid4GL1e1nkO2F6VQbPes5gWeWEaQ8_g55I3Mjw8lYyT9tfB3x_IstLLJt_KaQRvszKiOb7hPed-yMzaOuXdQX4mj7FIugRzFSEQ7Geq3s5XPfHf6dyNYJVNFNuQzHQcVyDQLGLQ/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amish Country</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD647kbpcO8HqAhnpDKGO8rlzOvJrI0mcLhguUqAVSnuKGUQ9V1Zy5nsiblsD6PKprKRNU_lD7CoEx0_0qjyyWEKC-KJbDAR_3QO0mOpiJhtOWcwcKqmoxnlK3ObDP6kdbiLTwLg/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD647kbpcO8HqAhnpDKGO8rlzOvJrI0mcLhguUqAVSnuKGUQ9V1Zy5nsiblsD6PKprKRNU_lD7CoEx0_0qjyyWEKC-KJbDAR_3QO0mOpiJhtOWcwcKqmoxnlK3ObDP6kdbiLTwLg/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dustin is an awesome riding buddy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--A_sv3yrP5o/U3433DcdLUI/AAAAAAAAQ_A/7rMo3JzLlkk/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--A_sv3yrP5o/U3433DcdLUI/AAAAAAAAQ_A/7rMo3JzLlkk/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amish mowing. Chain the horse in the ditch, relocate periodically once grass is eaten down in that area.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZcJ2WrkHtMakV-rW_z5Zy612SlbB-7efJdelt5XCPI6Zloe89QjNpPsYk8j2tjOCI4OsfvKHBfaLQpcwRQMKmAe-Wx_IuazyhUiZ3UptenlnXSe6GbfbPLCMMjyBMtl85uQn0Q/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZcJ2WrkHtMakV-rW_z5Zy612SlbB-7efJdelt5XCPI6Zloe89QjNpPsYk8j2tjOCI4OsfvKHBfaLQpcwRQMKmAe-Wx_IuazyhUiZ3UptenlnXSe6GbfbPLCMMjyBMtl85uQn0Q/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adirondack chair central. Looked like a pleasant place to work.</td></tr>
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Not long after that, we rejoined the Almanzo course. The prospect of catching up to some riders from the 100 was welcome, as Dustin and I hadn't seen many people of late. The thing I realized, though, was that while in perspective, that last 50 would be the home stretch, my memories of doing the 100 had me recalling that those were some damn tough miles. And only half of that course. Yeesh. We had some strong winds again, and the hills were rolling. What was remarkable, though, was seeing how the 1,000+ bikes that had traversed this road ahead of us had made a distinct track in the gravel, one ribbon of smooth line reaching far into the distance. We passed a couple packs of Almanzo riders, including three of my friend Anna's <a href="https://www.facebook.com/koochella" target="_blank">Koochella</a> teammates. I admired their tenacity, plugging away at the miles. We had more headwind sections, and Dustin and I finally
decided maybe we ought to do a little pull rotation. This got us through
a chunk of miles, tick tick tick on the cue sheet. <br />
<br />
The miles to Forestville dragged on. Finally, we were there, refilling bottles, eating, and trying to keep our eyes open. I tried lying down on a picnic table and nearly threw up. I sat next to a tree and thought I'd fall asleep. The early evening light was beautiful, and I thought about the fact that you should never, ever set up camp there, or you'd never leave. And as we got rolling, we pulled past Mary, who was doing just that. I looked at her with a deep sense of envy, but Dustin pulled on up the hill, reminding me we had 38 miles to go. And we were going to do it. From here, the river crossing would be halfway to the finish. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-twRXEdf88aY/U343-P97OMI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/8qKgq7octHw/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-twRXEdf88aY/U343-P97OMI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/8qKgq7octHw/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forestville emotions.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Coming out of Forestville, the climbs were really getting to me. I was tired, and not staying on top of my nutrition. It was looking stormy, and I was not excited about getting rained on. At the top of one climb, though, there was a beautiful rainbow. And then there was Dustin, waiting at the top of a hill with a magically delicious rice cake filled with blackberries and covered in mint leaves. HEAVEN. We were stopped alongside a beautiful farmhouse, and the woman who lived there was walking out to get her mail. She asked if we had a map or something that told us what to do, and I showed her the cue sheets. She offered water, and though we weren't out, we filled up. "It's by the horse corral," she said, "but it's nice, pure water." She was not kidding. It was the most deliciously sweet water I'd ever had. Her husband was making a fire in their firepit, and again, it would've been lovely to stop and watch the sunset with them...<br />
<br />
We passed through the town of Cherry Grove, where the Banjo Brothers shenanigans were long gone. We got to the creek crossing, descending into the beautiful valley. As we reached the river, there were two Almanzo riders on the other side, putting their shoes back on and encouraging us. Dustin gave it a go, and I opted to walk. Skinny tires and tired self...and I wanted dry shoes. The water was cold and the rocks were sharp, and I nearly lost my balance a couple times. That would not have been fun.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eRvwZmE0o5Q/U343-KwdmKI/AAAAAAAAQ_U/XunK4PDdg8A/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eRvwZmE0o5Q/U343-KwdmKI/AAAAAAAAQ_U/XunK4PDdg8A/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The World Menacing Dame inspects the Root River crossing.</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6k--40jhxV8/U343-DovlsI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/ldKbj4oqlGY/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6k--40jhxV8/U343-DovlsI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/ldKbj4oqlGY/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nah, we're gonna walk. White feet, gray shins, tan quads. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The climb out of the creek crossing is really the only MMR section of the course, and I love it. Rocky double track...give me miles and miles of it. Ok, maybe not all at once at the end. But it was awesome, as was knowing we had just 20 miles to go. We sent a message to Adam and Joy that we were 20 miles out and anticipating finishing somewhere between 9:30 and 10 and if they could please get beer. We were treated to a gorgeous sunset. And then, as we descended to the base of Oriole Road, I had a scary, scary moment of losing control of my front wheel at 30+mph. I relived my crash from 3 weeks earlier in my head in a split second, screaming "NO NO NO!" Thankfully, I saved it. But, damn.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-em08AsgYFZo/U343-Il9c1I/AAAAAAAAQ_U/2uzk3rxmmRE/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-em08AsgYFZo/U343-Il9c1I/AAAAAAAAQ_U/2uzk3rxmmRE/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous magic hour light.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JcLWObOsRmM/U344A3ADIzI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/hexIhC3glHQ/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JcLWObOsRmM/U344A3ADIzI/AAAAAAAAQ_0/hexIhC3glHQ/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset over the Driftless hills</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We stopped to put on our lights at the bottom of the hill. It was twilight. And that hill. Ugh. Dustin rode it like a champ, and I met him at the top on foot. 9 miles to go. One more scary descent and climb. Then, lights of Spring Valley blinking in the distance. One more rice cake. Lots of stops to double check the cue sheets in the dark. Just a few more turns. Pavement. Bike path. And then, the finish, to cheers and cowbells, even late in the dark. We'd made it before 10 PM, about an hour past my goal, but happy and in one piece. Besides, as Dustin said, it's important to set ambitious goals -- ones you can only meet about 50% of the time. After shaking hands with Chris and trying to get him up to speed on other riders that might still be on course, we rolled back to the hotel, to be greeted by a sink full of cold beer and a jacuzzi full of hot water. Well done, Joy & Adam! Oh, and they killed it in the Almanzo, finishing in 8.5 hours, first gravel century for Adam and first century of any sort for Joy. Amazing. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-brcDdkP0Enw/U344A3VhUMI/AAAAAAAAQ_s/eZRU10B6Zhg/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-brcDdkP0Enw/U344A3VhUMI/AAAAAAAAQ_s/eZRU10B6Zhg/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishers!!</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwnK0LIpzjxI2Z3vSf0TszKKPoZRF_B6wFpX9engeFZGcUsq5vT2P956UypEXongso3tAN7-7YFUXsWvFxVxo1Vb7KoCqLf7xHVqNakg7bzkV-RiBddP6WqB7mMjc-2gVk2TkDWA/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwnK0LIpzjxI2Z3vSf0TszKKPoZRF_B6wFpX9engeFZGcUsq5vT2P956UypEXongso3tAN7-7YFUXsWvFxVxo1Vb7KoCqLf7xHVqNakg7bzkV-RiBddP6WqB7mMjc-2gVk2TkDWA/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacuzzi felt amazing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Ok, I almost passed out after sitting in that jacuzzi and then standing up. But it was amazing. And better yet, a couple hours later, we got word that not only had Corey finished the Alexander, but that Matt and Butch had pulled in to finish the Royal at about the same time. That meant a 100% finish rate for Nebraskans, from the 7 of us in the Royal, the 7 in the Almanzo (that I know of), and the 1 in the Alexander. Not too shabby, folks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yPGzT0Y3ABs/U344A-2q73I/AAAAAAAAQ_s/dplK1uSzCH4/s1600/2014-05-22" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yPGzT0Y3ABs/U344A-2q73I/AAAAAAAAQ_s/dplK1uSzCH4/s1600/2014-05-22" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eating Punjabi curry out of a can with the end of my toothbrush. Another type of "run whatcha brung," in absence of silverware.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There were a lot of things I missed about the huge crowds that the Almanzo provides. And the extended party hours in the evening. But especially because of that long section through Amish country, the Royal was a nice change, too. The ride was beautiful. The company was great. The bike was flawless. The community that does all this is unmatched. I'm happy to be a part of it all. A couple days later, seeing Morrissey throw a diva fit on stage and sing decades of morose songs, I wondered at how someone could be so singularly mad at the world. Sure, there are plenty of things to be angry about and to take action to make better. But to be so unable to see beauty in the world just made me sad for him. Maybe he just needs a long bike ride. Thanks for reading, and remember to smile and appreciate what's all around us. <br />
<br />
<br />elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-81203840013447221532014-05-14T12:07:00.002-05:002014-05-14T12:07:36.295-05:00My Year 2013In past years, I've waited to debut "My Year" until the Home Grown Film Festival, but this year, I wanted to share it as soon as it was completed. 2013 was a year of personal growth, strong friendships, new friendships, adventure, travel, and lots of bike rides. In some cases, it was simple to find the perfect second to capture a day. In others, it was incredibly hard to choose just one second, especially on long days filled with many memorable moments.<br />
<br />
As I transition out of graduate school (at least for now) and into my next stage, I'm finding myself drawn to rekindling my focus on video production and video art. This has been a five year project at this point. That is a whole lot of autoethnography, and I'm interested in where it might go. I've often reflected on its repetition, its occasional chore-like nature, and its tendency to take a backseat as things like Instagram have entered my life.<br />
<br />
But, I can't stop. Every time I think about quitting, I meet someone who looks forward to the videos. I wonder in awe how they could mean something to someone else. What fusion of art and voyeurism have I created? What makes this take on documentary engaging to strangers and friends? How does this work as something beyond self-indulgence?<br />
<br />
To be sure, the process of transitioning 52 My Weeks into 365 discreet seconds is a completely different challenge. I thank you for sharing in it with me. I especially thank those of you who appear in the series for sharing time with me and subjecting yourselves to documentation. <br />
<br />
Enough words. Watch, enjoy, comment, pushback, or go make your own. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="225" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/95202292" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe> <br />
One second per day, each day of the year. A year of personal growth, strong friendships, exciting travel, and lots of bike rides.<br />
<br />elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-38131145704911218482014-05-06T10:34:00.002-05:002014-05-06T10:34:12.427-05:00Let's go play, shall we?<iframe src="//player.vimeo.com/video/51162653" width="500" height="281" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen></iframe>elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-81332883234487462742014-04-29T09:42:00.000-05:002014-04-29T09:42:12.483-05:00Exploring<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmGo0IaDKJH5dw4jSfVxMaoVjpZ98ioAzJt-gzQF-TFvu7yQSN_qd9rGHBl8MzbOpy_Pgz_wXymA9LiB_Dr8B1v7DUfIsarM9d2JqP_oHGojMn2LlRRX2PB-buvHDkLPO5QhryBA/s1600/P1140515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmGo0IaDKJH5dw4jSfVxMaoVjpZ98ioAzJt-gzQF-TFvu7yQSN_qd9rGHBl8MzbOpy_Pgz_wXymA9LiB_Dr8B1v7DUfIsarM9d2JqP_oHGojMn2LlRRX2PB-buvHDkLPO5QhryBA/s1600/P1140515.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9 Flats Road</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_sYamnwrMdZZvtswHucU-srdbex4EsAOo0EQ5N43ATci-Wh07f5W6iCX5uP-7S39fwqW0ITBSC6n-OzySJ7_dqaL-DgkQKAwi9S7724DWoXcdAzBRB_vni1qLElYor_CEzWQaA/s1600/P1140517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_sYamnwrMdZZvtswHucU-srdbex4EsAOo0EQ5N43ATci-Wh07f5W6iCX5uP-7S39fwqW0ITBSC6n-OzySJ7_dqaL-DgkQKAwi9S7724DWoXcdAzBRB_vni1qLElYor_CEzWQaA/s1600/P1140517.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Must've had thorns somewhere</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8s80FNnXr7a61a8OLdN8y8TPaDQqpRV1HA7aYvGOEuudNhY7cpsWRqt0yu95zH4gxeqL-rXVAWFQQ91c18H4JCr9QBrMCxU8ObSJigNj9zsQ172p8u-q2Zw2z09hyphenhyphenddaC2iXdtw/s1600/P1140524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8s80FNnXr7a61a8OLdN8y8TPaDQqpRV1HA7aYvGOEuudNhY7cpsWRqt0yu95zH4gxeqL-rXVAWFQQ91c18H4JCr9QBrMCxU8ObSJigNj9zsQ172p8u-q2Zw2z09hyphenhyphenddaC2iXdtw/s1600/P1140524.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet dirt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6Toef66AFJFjZ2konHJeOvixKGIZrhG5BEddNXImn9ZP-KhpAK_VyDYah-EKuWNQ66_9FB7r0Nv9FJsmfh5cAmmSO6M9h8EFoZzpS5fyFi2WUVs5e1TOTRrLmrZ-yYTk7MbVKA/s1600/P1140526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6Toef66AFJFjZ2konHJeOvixKGIZrhG5BEddNXImn9ZP-KhpAK_VyDYah-EKuWNQ66_9FB7r0Nv9FJsmfh5cAmmSO6M9h8EFoZzpS5fyFi2WUVs5e1TOTRrLmrZ-yYTk7MbVKA/s1600/P1140526.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles and miles of dirt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pHmEqYxsl6wEYsJFRNVNvulJ7LmU4T3-Au116tV2occ0szEhJ8Fq7nFc8Ik7pGQUriYU6gQLHoQPyFE8lf5holjK4kd_zMLrOlDnPMLBxzRelKcnwbRQ0EfJm3uNEkJQCQy8yg/s1600/P1140530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pHmEqYxsl6wEYsJFRNVNvulJ7LmU4T3-Au116tV2occ0szEhJ8Fq7nFc8Ik7pGQUriYU6gQLHoQPyFE8lf5holjK4kd_zMLrOlDnPMLBxzRelKcnwbRQ0EfJm3uNEkJQCQy8yg/s1600/P1140530.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abandoned house near Dorchester</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXShHIOBLwlniLT8zTDLLjs9W4ZO2dFA-gHnYTgGQda194exORRQjRcjjt3dNolZLlVb9xz7EAedKQcI09siKRPLtbfE-FbPRbFfll8ye59g96CiMJPGk8TnGlw06Y9W5Xn3xPA/s1600/P1140537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXShHIOBLwlniLT8zTDLLjs9W4ZO2dFA-gHnYTgGQda194exORRQjRcjjt3dNolZLlVb9xz7EAedKQcI09siKRPLtbfE-FbPRbFfll8ye59g96CiMJPGk8TnGlw06Y9W5Xn3xPA/s1600/P1140537.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">North face. Note the lack of windows.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBybEer5e99Ya53Mn5FYdvO6sEsNOfKPxRysOvcz1dACalk_KZbK3R_4zBn424ODqKmxXjF9ogwUTyH30tVAWvEsH81BJ4C7s4tFWpqomym_UZTTTF6oHs-lyJWEAjda4UsWcTpg/s1600/P1140536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBybEer5e99Ya53Mn5FYdvO6sEsNOfKPxRysOvcz1dACalk_KZbK3R_4zBn424ODqKmxXjF9ogwUTyH30tVAWvEsH81BJ4C7s4tFWpqomym_UZTTTF6oHs-lyJWEAjda4UsWcTpg/s1600/P1140536.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back (West) side, with the bridge in the background.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This was a couple weeks ago, a much-needed break in the final push to finish my thesis.<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_1705936217"></span><span id="goog_1705936218"></span>elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-12722038597513777892014-04-01T18:14:00.002-05:002014-04-01T18:14:48.219-05:00What is citizenship?As the deadline to file taxes approaches, think for a minute about what it means for some of your neighbors. <a href="http://aaronwk.blogspot.com/2014/03/tax-happy.html" target="_blank">One view from Lincoln</a>: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>When these model non-citizens are responsibly filing their taxes in a
country that continues to refuse to recognize them (unless we need their
$), what's the point? You may ask why they are filing at all. It's to
be in good standing while hoping for a reform that would possibly
provide them a pathway to citizenship, allowing them the benefits they
are denied now based on a technicality. I say technicality (legal
status) because they are as citizen-like as any of us. They own a home,
their kids go to my neighborhood schools (for which they pay property
tax), they live down the block from me, Lucia works at a restaurant I
frequent, they bought a new car last year. You know: America, right?</i></blockquote>
My friend Aaron volunteers as an interpreter and tax filing assistant. I am proud to call him a friend. Thank you, Aaron, for what you do for our community. And thank you for speaking for many of us who agree with you, sharing your gratitude with Lucia and Esteban. elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-63446686752925678482014-03-14T10:46:00.001-05:002014-03-14T10:46:21.071-05:00Field School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtC3OFBU_QB_FHcioQR3Sgk7XS3ytUEVPUCUOIJ3YLauruYbp28GeDAi0Xqxvq8QX7hNYpnMBn46kXBJ2ifyaUcvHfBDB0OHpRNg0eV-0QHh-ebaZ2NTIvTjZlGSW81pwQmRJYTg/s1600/P1000021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtC3OFBU_QB_FHcioQR3Sgk7XS3ytUEVPUCUOIJ3YLauruYbp28GeDAi0Xqxvq8QX7hNYpnMBn46kXBJ2ifyaUcvHfBDB0OHpRNg0eV-0QHh-ebaZ2NTIvTjZlGSW81pwQmRJYTg/s1600/P1000021.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
What a wonderful experience that was. I miss you, field school. elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-50178569284869406272014-03-12T10:23:00.004-05:002014-03-12T10:29:24.702-05:00Effecting Change: Why did USAC Restrict One-Day License Availability?<b>Problem</b>: The governing body for bike racing in the US made a rule change that negatively impacts occasional amateur racers.<br />
<br />
<b>Details</b>:<br />
<br />
In order to participate in many cycling events, riders must purchase a license through <a href="http://usacycling.org/" target="_blank">USAC</a>.
In the past, riders of all but the elite levels could choose to
purchase either a one-day license ($10) or an annual license ($60, or
$90 if participating in both road and mountain disciplines. Either
worked for cyclocross). In 2014, USAC changed the rules as follows:<br />
<ul>
<li>One-day licenses are now $15. </li>
<li>One-day licenses are not available for anything but the beginner category.</li>
<li><b>If you have EVER possessed an annual license, you cannot purchase a one-day license.</b> </li>
<li>An annual license now covers all disciplines, and costs $70. </li>
</ul>
<b>Why this is problematic</b>:<br />
<br />
Let's say I decide to
have a baby. After giving birth, I probably won't want to race a full
calendar of races, not nearly enough to justify a $70 license to do a
race or two. But I can imagine it would feel really good to get back out
there for my favorite race of the season. However, because I have held
an annual license for the last 4 years, I would be ineligible to
participate.<br />
<br />
I can think of many examples, but I'll leave it at one. I'd like to hear what others think, too. <br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>Context</b>: I'm studying civic engagement, democratic participation, and effecting change in the face of decisions made that negatively impact the less powerful.<br />
<br />
<b>Action</b>: This is where I need help. I've seen some pushback on Twitter and a few blogs, but that's not effecting change...yet. How can we work together to point out the negative consequences and hopefully find a solution/policy change?<br />
<br />
If you are upset about this change, let's work together instead of complaining in isolation, let action win over cynicism. <br />
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
USA Cycling has changed the rules regarding ONE-DAY (Beginner) licenses
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are $15.
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are no longer available for any riders racing as
a men's 4,3,2,1, or Pro or for women 3,2,1, or Pro.
ONE-DAY licenses are also no longer available for anyone who has ever
possessed a USAC license. - See more at: http://303cycling.com/node/6213#sthash.aTwxyfP6.dpuf</div>
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
USA Cycling has changed the rules regarding ONE-DAY (Beginner) licenses
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are $15.
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are no longer available for any riders racing as
a men's 4,3,2,1, or Pro or for women 3,2,1, or Pro.
ONE-DAY licenses are also no longer available for anyone who has ever
possessed a USAC license. - See more at: http://303cycling.com/node/6213#sthash.aTwxyfP6.dpuf</div>
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
USA Cycling has changed the rules regarding ONE-DAY (Beginner) licenses
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are $15.
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are no longer available for any riders racing as
a men's 4,3,2,1, or Pro or for women 3,2,1, or Pro.
ONE-DAY licenses are also no longer available for anyone who has ever
possessed a USAC license. - See more at: http://303cycling.com/node/6213#sthash.aTwxyfP6.dpuf</div>
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
USA Cycling has changed the rules regarding ONE-DAY (Beginner) licenses
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are $15.
ONE-DAY USA Cycling licenses are no longer available for any riders racing as
a men's 4,3,2,1, or Pro or for women 3,2,1, or Pro.
ONE-DAY licenses are also no longer available for anyone who has ever
possessed a USAC license. - See more at: http://303cycling.com/node/6213#sthash.aTwxyfP6.dpuf</div>
elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-68911181595460589302014-03-09T12:41:00.003-05:002014-03-09T12:41:31.725-05:00Forest trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8e8KW4nJldqNV19TbMbGyv6SA-CRPe1v3H2ZUDiXucPvqmbbWqVQpnRGIn63lZOsh4ROFgQ2LVhOEvUPrEYd1FF_6EOTTUkdIzzepoyetQ6yKAGpdbrsdNic39jQC7cD2c_Ue7w/s1600/P1140311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8e8KW4nJldqNV19TbMbGyv6SA-CRPe1v3H2ZUDiXucPvqmbbWqVQpnRGIn63lZOsh4ROFgQ2LVhOEvUPrEYd1FF_6EOTTUkdIzzepoyetQ6yKAGpdbrsdNic39jQC7cD2c_Ue7w/s1600/P1140311.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKw9Fu-NpDE08-O_e7L_ia4ODnljCTbHRBvjX9wxjez-x_o_jimYN1omsibnq7ozfeDlMz9HV2uY5lUBaYx3548E9FkXgNrPIMO3W9Ztyc6W8doZ11uRo6zfNqUUXPhrlEDEKNLg/s1600/P1140289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKw9Fu-NpDE08-O_e7L_ia4ODnljCTbHRBvjX9wxjez-x_o_jimYN1omsibnq7ozfeDlMz9HV2uY5lUBaYx3548E9FkXgNrPIMO3W9Ztyc6W8doZ11uRo6zfNqUUXPhrlEDEKNLg/s1600/P1140289.JPG" height="300" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSbc8-0OuuGDu_ZnKxhNXCI-3oNrGmkWZ9Mnd9DxIAq2EoKM-njRg1hlCihthP7BK7qVpWrr8iDp8VcJdNkUdef-2zWzWMGjwcTteA_WpsnuDjZsaydSibkvP3fhTJxOX63RSyJA/s1600/P1140331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSbc8-0OuuGDu_ZnKxhNXCI-3oNrGmkWZ9Mnd9DxIAq2EoKM-njRg1hlCihthP7BK7qVpWrr8iDp8VcJdNkUdef-2zWzWMGjwcTteA_WpsnuDjZsaydSibkvP3fhTJxOX63RSyJA/s1600/P1140331.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-3520299441319669832014-02-15T13:18:00.001-06:002014-02-17T18:49:20.775-06:00It's not about self-esteemFrom Gloria Ladson-Billings, 2006:<br />
<br />
"Our supreme reliance on individuals means that we look at students as individually responsible for their success in school. We lack complex understandings of how individual, family, community, school, and societal factors interact to create school failure for some students. It is much easier to explain students' failure by looking at something internal to the students than endemic in this thing we call school culture. Self-esteem is liberally sprinkled throughout American English. Every talk show host, every talk show guest has uttered the word. 'I overate because I had low self-esteem.' 'I allowed my partner to abuse me because I had low self-esteem.' I eagerly await the day when someone says, 'I overeat because I am surrounded by food ads and fast-food outlets that sell nothing but high-fat, unhealthy food, and as a poor person it is more difficult to buy fresh fruits and vegetables and take time to prepare them.' Or, 'I was abused by my partner because he's a jerk who has decided to work through his own shortcomings by taking advantage of me. The society says he should make a certain amount of money to take care of his family. He doesn't make it and I am a constant reminder of his failure but I'm an okay person.'"<br />
<br />
Preach on. Say why problems really exist. Think about why it's not your fault. Or why it is.<br />
<br />
<div class="csl-bib-body" style="line-height: 2; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;">
<div class="csl-entry">
From: </div>
<div class="csl-entry">
Ladson-Billings, G. (2006). It’s not the culture of poverty, it’s the poverty of culture: The problem with teacher education. <i>Anthropology & Education Quarterly</i>, <i>37</i>(2), 104–109.</div>
<span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Ajournal&rft.genre=article&rft.atitle=It's%20not%20the%20culture%20of%20poverty%2C%20it's%20the%20poverty%20of%20culture%3A%20The%20problem%20with%20teacher%20education&rft.jtitle=Anthropology%20%26%20Education%20Quarterly&rft.volume=37&rft.issue=2&rft.aufirst=Gloria&rft.aulast=Ladson-Billings&rft.au=Gloria%20Ladson-Billings&rft.date=2006&rft.pages=104%E2%80%93109"></span>
</div>
elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-84557392613686988482014-02-14T10:14:00.002-06:002014-02-14T10:14:31.813-06:00Milking BeesLearn something new today!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/omv54HZoH9M" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
From my amazing friend and former Bien Rican, Kat!elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-52241966208535477182014-02-12T16:48:00.000-06:002014-02-12T16:48:07.730-06:00Burning QuestionsI'm in a seminar on democratic education this term. It deals with 1. What is education, done democratically? and 2. What is education in a democratic society?, among many, many other questions.<br />
<br />
Monday night's class tasked us each with writing for 5 or so minutes our answers to the following questions:<br />
<br />
Where does your orientation to justice come from?<br />
and<br />
Where does your citizen consciousness come from?<br />
<br />
The responses were interesting. But I'm not going to tell you about them until you do this yourself. Really think about it. Write it down. What influenced you? Where did you learn about justice, and what does it mean to you now? What does it mean to you to be a citizen, a part of civil society, and why do you feel that way? elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-56809030281189268342014-01-30T11:38:00.003-06:002014-01-30T11:38:58.058-06:00Calling all Riot GrrlsUltimate lady date. Let's do it.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/JQz0LgmtpRg?feature=player_embedded" width="640"></iframe>
<a href="http://theross.org/nowshowing.php?mid=677" target="_blank">Showing at the Ross as of tomorrow. </a>elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-31957321673715652682014-01-27T13:58:00.000-06:002014-01-27T13:59:02.818-06:00MathIt's fascinating stuff. As a young student, I always did well. Advanced, in fact. Yet, at some point, it became clear to me that I wasn't really "good at math" so much as I was "excellent at memorization." I was also able to perform half-hour long monologues, after all. Well, Wednesday, I have to suffer through the GRE. I've decided, as somewhat of a principled stance, that beyond one short practice, I am not studying for it. It makes little sense. One thing that revealed itself in the practice exam, though, is that my college-prep curriculum (coupled with Brown's open curriculum) never taught me statistics, the one field of mathematics that would actually be quite useful for me.<br />
<br />
<iframe src="//player.vimeo.com/video/6457775" width="500" height="375" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
Really, though, I wish I'd have had more tangible problems to solve in the math classroom, and more examples like the Eames film above (h/t to Malcolm T, currently teaching 8th grade math in Denver, for sharing). elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-59407436062115460012014-01-26T12:38:00.002-06:002014-01-26T12:38:38.740-06:00File Under Short stories told through filmI hope these guys continue to bring the rad. <br />
<br />
<object allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" allowscriptaccess="always" data="http://www.kaltura.com/index.php/kwidget/wid/0_f7el0rwi/uiconf_id/8700151" height="300" id="kaltura_player_1390761436" name="kaltura_player_1390761436" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="533"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="allowNetworking" value="all" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#000000" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.kaltura.com/index.php/kwidget/wid/0_f7el0rwi/uiconf_id/8700151"/><param name="flashVars" value=""/><a href="http://corp.kaltura.com">video platform</a><a href="http://corp.kaltura.com/video_platform/video_management">video management</a><a href="http://corp.kaltura.com/solutions/video_solution">video solutions</a><a href="http://corp.kaltura.com/video_platform/video_publishing">video player</a></object><br />
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http://thechive.com/2013/06/17/allow-me-to-present-easily-the-two-coolest-kids-of-this-week-video/<br />
<br />
elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-42931789296616155732014-01-24T12:58:00.003-06:002014-01-24T12:58:48.617-06:00Califone and PoetryI'm excited to see Califone live for the first time tonight. And I was reminded of the film made by poet-friend Joshua Marie Wilkinson about them.
<iframe allowfullscreen="" height="331" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/14492575" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe><br />
<br />
I'm posting here a little more these days. Growing a bit weary of Facebook and Twitter... elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-73315976690823786582014-01-21T10:01:00.003-06:002014-01-21T10:02:43.622-06:00On Happiness<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/d9c4xJEP6eI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
Last night, I saw <i>Is the Man Who Is Tall Happy? </i>You have two more days to see it if you're in Lincoln. And it is well worth your while.<br />
<br />
Rather than a full review, I wanted to make just one observation. Gondry opens the film with the statement that "film and video are both by their nature manipulative," a premise I've held to both true and quite problematic for me as a filmmaker -- and particularly as a documentarian. He goes on to discuss the ways in which animation of this conversation avoids some of the pitfalls of this manipulation (editing), and yet opens many other problems (visual interpretation).<br />
<br />
There is one animated sequence that appears a few times in the film, as Gondry asks Chomsky about his late wife. The illustration accompanying conversation about their happiness is of a man and a woman riding bikes. It even makes it into the trailer. <br />
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<br />
Never in the interview does Chomsky (nor Gondry) say anything about bike rides. Why is this the image of happiness? Obviously, I agree with it -- it speaks to my own sensibilities. However, it is a fascinating metaphorical choice. Why not a stroll through a meadow, a ride in a convertible, a view from a sailboat, a snuggle on the couch (one of these things is not like the others), etc.? <br />
<br />
What is it about bike rides that equates with happiness? elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-87222649428993674022014-01-13T13:01:00.000-06:002014-01-13T13:01:03.994-06:00Spring semester commences..."The ultimate significance of lake, river, mountain and plain is not physical but social; it is the part which it plays in modifying and directing human relationships." -John Dewey, 1909.<br />
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<br />elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-29416991463380795512013-12-31T14:34:00.000-06:002013-12-31T14:34:10.950-06:00This YearI've been saying for awhile that 2013/being 30 has been the best year of my life. A few pieces of evidence.<br />
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The year started with sparkles, fortune telling with lead, neighbors and good friends. And to celebrate my birthday, the annual Bien Rica Clothing Swap... <br />
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On a whim (a bit of a theme this year), I hopped in a car to yell my lungs out at the Cyclocross World Championships in Louisville. Great idea, that was.<br />
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I closed out February and started March with a trip that really turned everything around. I'd been in a rough stretch. Not after a weekend in Ouachita.<br />
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I was lucky enough to be invited to see Alash, a group of Tuvan throat singers, in a beautiful reconstructed barn outside of Lincoln. It was a magical concert.<br />
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During Spring Break, I joined the fabulously talented Casey Sheppard on a trip to Houston for an art festival. We took mountain bikes, camped, got silly, and mega-bonded. <br />
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Speaking of mega-bonded, I continued to have great rounds of shenanigans with Sydney. We do the twins look so well. <br />
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And speaking of mega-bonded, I shared so many great rides, on gravel or through Wilderness, with Matt. What a tremendous human. And through him, to have a second family in Karen, Talley, and Liem. I'm so lucky. <br />
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In May, I traveled to Minnesota for the Almanzo, and in the course of the race, finally got to know Erin, someone I'd met when he lived in Omaha but never really gotten to know. It transformed the race and was the start of yet another great friendship. <br />
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The end of May and beginning of June were spent at Field School, where I ate hemlock and didn't die. I learned so much. I reshaped life expectations. Nature Girl was born. <br />
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I made my mom proud. I wrote furiously. I decided maybe I should teach at some point. I realized I am already a teacher, even if it's not in a classroom. <br />
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Spending 3 weeks outdoors was fantastic. I took a picture of a bird in flight that kind of blew my mind. <br />
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June had so many long rides. I finished Dirty Kanza. That was crazy. On the Ponca Ride, 2 weeks later, we had tailwind the whole way. Two weeks after that, it was Odin's Revenge. Add in Almanzo and the overnight hundy in July, and I was riding a whole lot of gravel every other Saturday. 100 miles, then 200, then 150, then 150, then 100. Dang.<br />
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Well after that, it was time for a break and a change of pace. I went up to Minnesota, and went to a velodrome for the first time. And I met Anna. Remember mega-bonding? Yup, that happened.
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After having known Butch for years, and having had great digital correspondence, I also finally got to hang out and ride bikes with him. And go swimming with Keller. <br />
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Exploring at Cuyuna Lakes was a blast. <br />
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Then, back in Minneapolis, Anna taught me how to ride on the track. Add this to the goal list for 2014...<br />
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In August, I got to be part of the wedding of one of my dearest friends, Berly. It was easily the best wedding ceremony I've ever been to, with a fantastic benediction from Christopher McCammon. And the dance party was great, too. <br />
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A week later, it was time for Gravel Worlds, which I contested on a singlespeed. It was hot. It was hard. Pulling into the finish at my family farm, it was awesome. <br />
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Then it was time for cyclocross season. Through an excellent partnership with Josh Rice, I helped bring a new grassroots cyclocross series to Lincoln. I led countless beginner clinics, and was handsomely rewarded with a superb crop of beginner women joining the Sheclismo crew. <br />
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Right in the middle of that season, I took another trip, this time to Fruita, Colorado. My first time in Utah, it was by bike. <br />
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A whole lot of my year has been spent traveling with Corey and Matt. I couldn't ask for better travel buddies, but they do need to start telling me about their outfit choices so I don't feel so left out of the matchy-matchy time. <br />
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My little brother got married, and I now have a fantastic sister. I've never had a sister. It's pretty great. <br />
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Back to 'cross season, which I also did all on singlespeed. Results-wise, it was up and down, mostly up, but mostly really, really fun. Which is the point. I had a blast. How can you not, when War Axe makes a giant head cut-out of you?<br />
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Then I went to Philadelphia for SSCXWC and Bilenky Junkyard CX. That, too, was incredible. Really, really great weekend. Wow. Smiles, snow, new friends, old friends, new explorations. <br />
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Then home again, and with a firm conviction to start a Ph.D. program. So, that's big. And at WWASH #11, there were hugs. Lots of good hugs. <br />
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I've had fabulous housemates in Diane, Liz, and Megan. My cats are hilarious, cuddly, and, well, cats. I have great family, and great friends. I'm looking forward to adventures already planned, and that I don't yet know about. Thanks to all who participate in making my trips around the sun so rich in love and wonder.<br />
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e.<br />
<br />elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-88115445755966664972013-12-16T15:17:00.002-06:002013-12-16T17:28:33.208-06:00It Wasn't (really) Sunny in Philadelphia, But It Was Full of Brotherly and Sisterly LoveIt's been a week, and while I spent most of that intervening week trying not to get kicked out of grad school in a furious term paper writing marathon, I still haven't gotten over the amazing weekend that was SSCXWC13Philly. I'm going to try to remember the highlights to share with you, but I'll forget stuff. Nevertheless, this is going to be a massively long post. It was that much of a barrage of awesome...<br />
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When I left Lincoln on Thursday, it was a balmy 6 degrees outside. I made it effortlessly through O'Hare and onto my second flight, and emerged from the plane in Philly to an actually balmy, humid, please-get-me-out-of-these-fleece-tights 55-degree evening. The bike made it just fine, which was a huge relief, and my gracious host Chris was there to pick me up. This was but the beginning of having the most wonderful chauffeurs, hosts, and superfans in Chris and his partner J-Vass, who is my college roommate and one of the finest humans on the planet. We headed back to their place in South Philly, I put my bike together, and we did some work while waiting for J-Vass to get home from his fancy lawyer job. We proceeded to have an amazing dinner in their neighborhood at the Royal Tavern, then went home to watch <i>Female Trouble</i>. Nice girls don't wear cha-cha heels...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Lt2FzvTkteQ" width="420"></iframe><br />
Seriously, don't even watch that trailer if you're easily offended. John Waters at his early, weirdest, finest. This film got watched twice over the course of the weekend...<br />
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The film kept me awake long enough to pick up my companion in weekend shenanigans, the internet-famous <a href="http://allcitycycles.com/riders/erin_young" target="_blank">Erin Young</a>, flying in from Minneapolis. Did I mention how great J-Vass & Chris are? Thanks for letting us take over your car for the weekend. Also, thanks for having the cutest dog ever.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SHELDON. The love.</td></tr>
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Friday morning, we made our way to Mark Elsasser's place (conveniently just a few blocks away) for some homemade breakfast en route to a special private tour of the venue for Sunday's race. I met Mark last spring at TransIowa, when I picked him and Corey up at the 180-mile mark. Over breakfast, he told us about being the hinge between rogue trail builders and the city parks department in establishing Belmont Plateau as a legitimate trail system, and about how he'd secured none other than the Mayor of Philadelphia to open the races on Sunday with a declaration that in the City of Philadelphia, Handups are Not a Crime. Seriously impressive, getting city leaders to not just ok but actually serve as dignitaries to open up something so shenanigan-rich as SSCXWC. Chapeau, fellas. <br />
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So, compared to Erin and my home surroundings, high 40s to low 50s and rainy felt warm enough that we were basically in summer kit. This was a bit silly. We were a wee bit unprepared, and hadn't even packed water bottles. Ooops. We rolled over to Bicycle Revolutions to meet up with some other folks, including Jeff Frane from All-City and my new buddy Charlie Southgate, source of knowledge on all the secret dirtbag spots to ride a bike in Philly. At first glance, I could tell by the twinkle in his eye that this fella was full of mischief. Sweet. After buying some too-small knee warmers in a pinch, we rolled down to "graffiti pier" to recon a course for that night's Bandit CX race. The area we were in was an abandoned coal mine, and little rogue trails criss-crossed the landscape, full of little pump track rollers, glass, and other urban detritus. Oh, and a massive pier under a bridge covered in graffiti. So cool. We helped those guys set up for awhile before heading off with Mark to Fairmount Park and the site of the Worlds course. It had started raining a little more solidly, and we wanted a chance to see the sections of singletrack that wouldn't be used if it kept raining.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie at Graffiti Pier</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SSCXWC course recon. Rainy, muddy, leafy, awesome.</td></tr>
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We got to the park and hit the trails, which were wet and covered with leaves. Mark led us into the singletrack and let me take a moment to say, holyyyyyy smokes, can that man ride a bike. He was jumping over things with such ease it was like they weren't there. Like dancing. Like magic. It was nuts. Erin was doing a pretty good job keeping up with him, but I couldn't hold a candle to that. I was getting nervous at every log, doubting my ability to hop over them. (Really need to practice, concertedly, getting over that.) After doing a lap of the course and seeing some of the alternate paths, Erin and I were hungry, cold, and tired, so we sheepishly asked about heading back to South Philly. Besides, it was really raining by now.<br />
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This was followed by the most massive of naps. Between hungry and tired, tired won, because, blankets. By the time we woke up, it was dinner time. Got some food, then braved the rain once again to head to West Philly for the check-in party. It was funny to walk into a super packed bike party like that and not really know anyone, being so far from home and the home scene. We got our bracelets, our beers, our swag, and hung out for awhile before meeting up with our buddy Craig Ethridge, positive singlespeed ambassador extraordinaire. It was also close to this point that we realized the Belgians making a bid for SSCXWC14...were actually Belgians. I thought it was a joke, and then suddenly there was this guy next to me passing out Chimay and speaking in a thick accent. Amazing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65XhaIqZuuNNkUp6izBPKTsQZBWnuL7dDAFFVaNFjS7MVhWdIgeoGcBQuG8G4hmS-CCr9GUb08B3XkI-SkZefdiNM68b2sKjDoWKWFLH2aqDufbq-u09RjdkXinIz8i39m1VWGA/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-12-16+at+10.41.08+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65XhaIqZuuNNkUp6izBPKTsQZBWnuL7dDAFFVaNFjS7MVhWdIgeoGcBQuG8G4hmS-CCr9GUb08B3XkI-SkZefdiNM68b2sKjDoWKWFLH2aqDufbq-u09RjdkXinIz8i39m1VWGA/s320/Screen+shot+2013-12-16+at+10.41.08+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of white dudes. A few ladies. Strangers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw71I5Hm-nL635mzn3nnk6JZCAqrczUqgvB_5gTbgz_yB2pQpZQn3vda5rV-VIyNFOzxxkLnxh4KK8mGnU3QS-0Qxl4xg_duIl6ce3x305UZI5nhYc2VDPDi5uNz59x872tTEgQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-12-16+at+10.41.22+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw71I5Hm-nL635mzn3nnk6JZCAqrczUqgvB_5gTbgz_yB2pQpZQn3vda5rV-VIyNFOzxxkLnxh4KK8mGnU3QS-0Qxl4xg_duIl6ce3x305UZI5nhYc2VDPDi5uNz59x872tTEgQ/s320/Screen+shot+2013-12-16+at+10.41.22+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LAGER.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Eventually, Erin and I were hungry again, and we made our way to the bar where J-Vass, Chris and their friends were drinking and dining. Yay for gay bars, especially classy ones with good food. We probably drank a little too much for our early morning, but we made it. Then home in more rain and into bed...we did not want to miss the group ride through North Philly to Bilenky Junkyard Cross...<br />
<br />
So, we got up. It was sunny-ish. Not raining. Thankfully. Crisp, but not cold. Also a bonus. While Chris had made drunken pledges to make us breakfast, he was in blissful sleep, and we headed out the door to find coffee and a bagel en route to Love Park. There, we assembled with probably 40 other cyclists to ride north through some pretty decayed, impoverished, and industrial parts of the city to Bilenky Cycle Works and the auto scrap yard adjacent to it. This was a sight to behold, especially for many bewildered residents of North Philly, emerging from homes and businesses to take pictures of this strange parade of white kids on bikes riding through their neighborhood early on a Saturday morning. What I would give to find the right combination of search terms to find those photos... <br />
<br />
Finally, we get to Bilenky, pull up the road, and I suddenly have this really overwhelming feeling. In the lead up to this, in going back and forth over and over about whether or not to risk racing in a junkyard the day before SSCXWC, I had watched a bunch of videos of past years' races, over and over again. To be there was just...surreal. I was immediately so glad I'd decided to do this race. It was pretty chaotic with all of us arriving at once, but we got checked in and I got numbers for my singlespeed and women's races. I ran into Chad, a Philly local who'd made the trip to Lincoln for Gravel Worlds in August. Instead of taking my bike on a pre-ride lap, I just walked the course the first time, looking for bits of ground to avoid. After all those videos, I was relieved to discover that nothing really seemed too crazy to me. Of course, this is all relative, since we'd still be 1. running through two vans, 2. going over a car barrier, and 3. shortcutting through the cab of an excavator. After walking, I took the bike for a lap, and proceeded to get really excited about this race.<br />
<br />
My singlespeed heat was somewhere in the middle of the many, many heats of singlespeed races...something like 150 people registered. I got a decent start, seeded in somewhere in the middle of the guys, and just had fun with it. During that race, there was a whiskey and soft pretzel shortcut around the 2 vans, and I did that each of the two laps. On fire from the excitement of that first race, I proceeded to jump around a bunch to try to stay warm until the first women's race. Erin did well enough in his singlespeed race that despite dropping a chain, he was advancing to the semifinals. Then I had the preliminary heat of the women's race. Knowing how much the start mattered, I hammered it, second off the starting stretch into the turns. The course was tight, and I defended my line, making it into the two vans -- now being rocked back and forth by a bunch of fellas -- still in second position. Um, it's really hard to stay upright and moving forward while carrying your bike through two 15-passenger vans, especially when you're a tall girl. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-dfw.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/p480x480/1426349_10152043990126355_1537569406_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://scontent-b-dfw.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/p480x480/1426349_10152043990126355_1537569406_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women's preliminary heat #1</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNuiDJz4Agzqnt6jvu-BNhVeLsCaYP3c27pvXhvE2mw-9D4BHPGnZqvX_aqck9rTdckiIkJT9sjR1QxHsBbwbJa8JxgreAo3caVXSBCFEfnLs4ZMACfVw_H1CXSLVAUXSasKPIQ/s1600/Bilenky_car_hood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNuiDJz4Agzqnt6jvu-BNhVeLsCaYP3c27pvXhvE2mw-9D4BHPGnZqvX_aqck9rTdckiIkJT9sjR1QxHsBbwbJa8JxgreAo3caVXSBCFEfnLs4ZMACfVw_H1CXSLVAUXSasKPIQ/s400/Bilenky_car_hood.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going over the Buick barrier. Photo: http://alleycat.phanfare.com/2013/</td></tr>
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When we got to the Buick barrier, Liz So from Chicago's Tati Cycles was hot on my heels, and made a quick and deft last-minute pass. Then her chainring got stuck under the hood of the car. Damn. As another woman opted for the trunk route, I freed Liz's bike and got over the car as quickly as I could behind her. Dropped from 2nd to 4th, but held that position to the finish to qualify for the women's finals. Score. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHA4wRrTNG-jo5rf_CYb8BEd1fFu_Ayamk0SHL6RGx3OShvGWF-lB-pO3TKXE_N_ygXRIP5eAa9BtitgJFnQoXT0lCf-j4ObshqdrILCeKHE4-Z5HW8YtmD6POkbHgqDXhRe7SZw/s1600/Bilenky_DirtRag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHA4wRrTNG-jo5rf_CYb8BEd1fFu_Ayamk0SHL6RGx3OShvGWF-lB-pO3TKXE_N_ygXRIP5eAa9BtitgJFnQoXT0lCf-j4ObshqdrILCeKHE4-Z5HW8YtmD6POkbHgqDXhRe7SZw/s400/Bilenky_DirtRag.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming out of the vans and through the Belgians. Photo: Dirt Rag</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4bHa77QBWCt1W2zxsJaHchZyKfElUH3xhEPU6y-CXGtfb67FiRU1ogjg4n45HsJ_6Ag9vbh8vkXxb6bBxX7DWQHm5D4QAG_2M_Fn42z-c9Ixf1EE9q6LphBGfwHvxHPrappm0w/s1600/Bilenky_Erinflashingme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4bHa77QBWCt1W2zxsJaHchZyKfElUH3xhEPU6y-CXGtfb67FiRU1ogjg4n45HsJ_6Ag9vbh8vkXxb6bBxX7DWQHm5D4QAG_2M_Fn42z-c9Ixf1EE9q6LphBGfwHvxHPrappm0w/s400/Bilenky_Erinflashingme.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erin flashing me. For motivation. Photo: http://alleycat.phanfare.com/2013/</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Watched more races, including the trick bike riders doing unbelievable backflips and stuff over the car. Just nuts. Tried to stay warm. Failed while sitting in one of the junk cars that turned out to be soaked full of rain from the last day's storms. Made friends. Wandered around looking at parts. Cheered on Erin. And then, lined up for the women's final...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://urbanvelo.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/bilenky_junkyard_cross_2013-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://urbanvelo.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/bilenky_junkyard_cross_2013-21.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming through the cab of the 'dozer. Photo: Urban Velo</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/131207-bilenky-junkyard-cross/e2671cd3d" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="1312070112"><img alt="A.E.LANDES PHOTOGRAPHY: 131207 Bilenky Cross &emdash; 1312070112" height="387" src="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/img/s4/v64/p644992317-3.jpg" width="580" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Racing through parts. Steering columns. Radiators. Containers of things. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Again, holeshot is everything, and this time, I nailed it. While I lost position to Liz and Sue after a few turns, I knew the lines to take and was drilling it this time, riding super defensively until I had a bit of a gap on 4th place. The crowd was so loud. Coming over the Buick, a guy was holding out a lei, which I obviously took, screaming at the crowd how stoked I was I got lei'd at Bilenky. I came out of the 'dozer cab and rode clean into the finish to secure the third step on the podium. So awesome. I wanted to do it again. Not too long after, Erin raced in a singlespeed final full of cheating and crazy shenanigans, and he, too, rode his way to third place.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/131207-bilenky-junkyard-cross/e1ac24e71" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="1312070199"><img alt="A.E.LANDES PHOTOGRAPHY: 131207 Bilenky Cross &emdash; 1312070199" height="387" src="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/img/s5/v128/p448941681-3.jpg" width="580" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously, I convinced my competitors we needed to take the shots on the podium.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
All of the stoke. And you know what's extra awesome? When your good buddy J-Vass drives up to North Philly to pick you guys up and drive you home. Yay, friends!! <br />
<br />
We got cleaned up and went to eat Mexican food with J-Vass and Chris, who'd been nursing the brown bottle flu all day. It was delicious. We walked back through a street of Christmas light decorations in South Philly that was just insane. Crazy amounts of lights everywhere. Inflatable abominations right on the sidewalk. Then Erin and I got ready to head into Old City for the Last Chance Qualifiers and party. Because, damn, these Philly folks knew how to party.<br />
<br />
J-Vass had warned us that the bar we were going to was one that was likely to be filled with suburban <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=woo-girl" target="_blank">woo girls</a>. When we got there, though, it was clear that the bike nerds had taken over. The fence outside was covered in bikes. We locked up and forced our way into the crowd, where a goldsprints set-up had guys vying for a few remaining spots in the championship race on Sunday. This party was crazy amounts of overstimulating. Met a whole bunch of folks, and chatted forever with a rad woman named Ali who lives in SF. Then we proceeded to have a dance party, thanks to the excellent ladies on the 1s and 2s. It was reminiscent of the LVfoamparty at CX Worlds in February, but with a little more room to move (but not much). And a bunch of us danced our little booties off. Sure, you could go home and go to bed, considering you're racing the next day, but that, as Dave Pryor, the organizer of the whole SSCXWC13Philly event came on the mic to thank us for being out to party told us, is "doing it wrong." So yeah, we danced a lot longer.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoQYQf0kqwOtt_DX_fWeffJqSJ1p4WkpEGQEJWoymNFOh8lypzu7EBGo8GKfQ_ind6LfZadwfji6f1f7Hzgu59spjutG4LSMqQLYQPFO9w5uHHYXW1Wh5qdrQS4hNMXb0cKwTug/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-12-16+at+10.42.30+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoQYQf0kqwOtt_DX_fWeffJqSJ1p4WkpEGQEJWoymNFOh8lypzu7EBGo8GKfQ_ind6LfZadwfji6f1f7Hzgu59spjutG4LSMqQLYQPFO9w5uHHYXW1Wh5qdrQS4hNMXb0cKwTug/s320/Screen+shot+2013-12-16+at+10.42.30+AM.png" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BEER JAWN</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And we were rewarded, for when we returned to our bikes, they had been adorned with beer jawns! This koozie-case with a shoulder strap was filled with beers and birch beers. How cool is that? Erin and I rode home and had a birch beer with whiskey...while watching more of <i>Female Trouble</i>, of course.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, Sunday morning didn't start quite so early. We got up and walked to breakfast with J-Vass, Erin shocking the locals with his shorts and a t-shirt as the flurries were starting to show up in the air. J-Vass described another breakfast patron's look as one of "utter disgust" at his clothing choice. We might've been a little hung over. Got down food and coffee and headed back to the house to pack up, to once again be luxuriously chauffeured to the race venue. It was starting to snow in earnest. It was starting to stick. We sped to Belmont Plateau, parked, checked in, and got Erin lined up to race.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://prollyisnotprobably.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/sscxwc_raceday_38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://prollyisnotprobably.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/sscxwc_raceday_38.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ALL OF THE COLORS</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Erin proceeded to charge down the hill to take the holeshot, flying up the first climb in all his technicolor glory. Pretty awesome to watch him lead out 99 other riders...and then drop to pretty much DFL by the time he came around for lap 2. I needed to change and try to unfreeze my toes, so I headed to the car and left the heckling in J-Vass's very capable hands, as he reminded Erin not to overextend himself and that it looked like he was trying really hard and such. J-Vass, of course, is a natural at heckling.<br />
<br />
I went to the car, which was already covered in a couple inches of snow, and tried to sort out what to wear. Everything I had on was kind of wet, so I switched around for dry items, put embrocation on my freezing cold toes, and stayed put in the car for as long as I could. Throwing rain pants and a coat back on over top of the absolutely stellar unitard, I headed back to the start. It turned out that the two leaders in the men's race had decided to go mano-a-mano for an extra lap, and meanwhile the women -- who for the first time in any race I've ever been to were taking top billing as the last race of the day -- were lined up and shivering. There was a blanket of snow on the ground. You couldn't see more than maybe 200 feet. It was hard to tell where we'd even be turning to get onto the course from the start.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYv1JR2yb4sdSFuSzwqjmZIuEk-4AxO_hXFsJ79CfzfeivBOHb1-vi7XAVsg0sQgiS8Lo1LS-GDncNS8Xj3fcKx9Ix_SLwgPmp62lfo1LPhRFS4faOSj8qFedUNv3PlZ2FF9www/s1600/SSCXWC13prerace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYv1JR2yb4sdSFuSzwqjmZIuEk-4AxO_hXFsJ79CfzfeivBOHb1-vi7XAVsg0sQgiS8Lo1LS-GDncNS8Xj3fcKx9Ix_SLwgPmp62lfo1LPhRFS4faOSj8qFedUNv3PlZ2FF9www/s320/SSCXWC13prerace.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shoulders covered in snow just standing there... Photo: J-Vass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Dave Pryor gave a nice little pre-race chat about wanting to make sure the women didn't get shortchanged of time in our race, seeing as though that apparently had been happening a lot at local races. With the current conditions, however, I think we were all ok with them erring on the shorter side of things. We ditched our coats and charged down the hill, with lots of ladies going down in the first hairpin turn onto the course. I had a fairly decent position climbing up the hill, but I was definitely in a steeper gear than lots of the other women (more on that in a moment...). <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/131208-sscxwc13/e107c4d41" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="1312080256"><img alt="A.E.LANDES PHOTOGRAPHY: 131208 SSCXWC &emdash; 1312080256" height="387" src="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/img/s5/v127/p276581697-3.jpg" width="580" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming through the barriers on lap 1.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The race proceeded in a blur, as races usually do. I opted for the singletrack rather than the grassy section with pinwheel, struggled to clip in (but fared better than some, thanks Time pedals), hit my head on the Liberty Bells (thanks, being tall), made jokes with fellow racers about wanting my skis, and had an amazing time riding through deep and heavily falling snow. I'd spent a bunch of time thinking of clever costumes for the race
(costumes are kind of mandatory unless you're really lame), but never
got to the point of making one. With the snow, this was perfect, since
people were yelling "IT'S A SNOW LEOPARD" all over the course. Perfect.
Meow. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/131208-sscxwc13/e4d949bc" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="1312080272"><img alt="A.E.LANDES PHOTOGRAPHY: 131208 SSCXWC &emdash; 1312080272" height="387" src="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/img/s9/v93/p81349052-3.jpg" width="580" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably just before taking off completely fogged up glasses and sticking them in the front of the unitard.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was crazy to ride in snow like this on a cross bike and on a mix of singletrack, gravel, and grass. I was so thankful to have put in so much time riding the bike at Wilderness, because my handling skills kept me upright the whole time. And the crowd, oh my goodness. Coming up Parachute Hill, the spectators were all the way in the path like you see on the mountain climbs in the big Euro road tours. It was just nuts to ride through that. I got a darling puppy's leash caught on my handlebars. I took so many handups. I had to climb over human barriers. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9P_s1bi-Ca44WuiXecox_sh-2eW5u7O77MnEKk0nzdzA7_cLNFtGbGfHCrth5O4Oe6irwy8yBfstzmJV_gorku9ppr2mOBAtqfdu21As3k5DLazv_A8ngiqYs9-1RyqjdcVASXw/s1600/sscxwc13humanbarrier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9P_s1bi-Ca44WuiXecox_sh-2eW5u7O77MnEKk0nzdzA7_cLNFtGbGfHCrth5O4Oe6irwy8yBfstzmJV_gorku9ppr2mOBAtqfdu21As3k5DLazv_A8ngiqYs9-1RyqjdcVASXw/s320/sscxwc13humanbarrier.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Human barrier. Photo: Instagram.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/131208-sscxwc13/e1ea7fd0a" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="1312080317"><img alt="A.E.LANDES PHOTOGRAPHY: 131208 SSCXWC &emdash; 1312080317" height="387" src="http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/img/s5/v123/p514325770-3.jpg" width="580" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiling all the way up the hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was just magical. And then, suddenly, it became apparent to me that in all this, I was doing pretty well in the race. I went past J-Vass and Erin, who told me I was in the top 10 for sure. I found myself in front of a couple really serious racers. And as I came up the finishing climb the last time, I found myself in a little sprint for position. I lost it, not getting back into my pedal successfully, but I crossed the finish after 4 laps to see the top 5 women all still standing there as though they'd just finished. The race wasn't keeping official results past the winners, and as much as I'd like to know exactly what place I came in, I'm super happy to know I was up there. How amazing. Here's a video with more race footage. The only bummer about racing last is not getting to participate in the heckling shenanigans as much.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/nX6S35VluT4" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
I proceeded to freeze while waiting for J-Vass and Erin to come back from the Hill. The guy with the cute puppy gave me a towel, and some dudes from Pittsburgh let me sit in their car. I was on such a high that I couldn't really process what had just happened. That was nuts. We drove home (oh my god, J-Vass, I love you so much for driving us around) through a magical winter wonderland. <br />
<br />
After warming up, we had to take apart our bikes and face the reality of flying home in the morning. We ate all the pizza. We watched the rest of <i>Female Trouble</i>, laughing about the guys from Oregon who'd raced in Aunt Ida's costume. Then we headed to the final party of the weekend, which took place on a big boat. Strange things these coastal people do...<br />
<br />
At the party, it was determined by poker game that Louisville will be hosting SSCXWC14. I'm good with that -- they threw one helluva party for CX Worlds last winter, and it's actually kind of within driving distance. Got to see Tim Anderson, which was cool, and then won myself a new U-lock by shaking my booty the way I know best.<br />
<br />
I mentioned earlier something about gearing. Turns out there was a bit of controversy in the women's race, due to the fact that the winner had zip-tied her shifters, rather than raced a true singlespeed bike. Now, this is perfectly legal according to the guidebook, but Sunday's race pointed out just what an advantage it might have been. During the race, I remarked once or twice on the climbs at women nearby what a more suitable gearing they had than my 42x19 as they spun up hills that I was struggling to stay on top of. "Yeah, picked it right before the race, easiest gear!" one said. What a luxury that must be. Sorry, I FLEW HERE FROM NEBRASKA WITH THIS ONE. One gear all weekend. One gear whether it was clear, flat and dry at Bilenky or snowy and full of climbs at Belmont. I committed to having a singlespeed season when I changed the bike over before Gravel Worlds. That meant I raced in Open races locally against women with gears. That was part of the deal. Did it suck sometimes? Sure, especially at Jingle Cross that second day. But I was committed to singlespeeding it. It came with its advantages, too, like the fact that I kept it cleaner and rarely dropped a chain (except when I crashed on trolley tracks in the rain Friday night).<br />
<br />
I can see where you can make an economic argument in favor of allowing for zip-tie singlespeed conversions. And honestly, I have absolutely no problem with a woman with just one bike -- her commuter, her mountain bike, her everyday ride -- zip-tying it so she can participate. But when you take elite racers and give them the luxury of making a gearing selection right before the race, no bag of cogs necessary, it changes the game, and quite frankly just sort of, to use Omar Little's mentality, violates the code. Yes, I get that this is one funny little subculture that is not so keen on rules enforcing rules in reaction to the broader cycling subculture's creation and enforcement of lots of rules in a sport that used to not have rules...and blah blah blah. I think if I'd have been in second place, I'd probably be bummed out. It'll be interesting to see if they make any changes to the rules for next year...<br />
<br />
Anyway, post-party, we headed back to our wonderful home for the weekend, ready to mellow out before getting up really early to head to the airport with Chris, who had oh-so-graciously offered to drive us there. However, one more surprise was in store, in wonderful "It's a Small Socioeconomic Class After All" fashion. J-Vass had posted a photo of Erin at the race, which his friend, who also knows Erin saw, asking, in turn, "how do you know each other?" And well, this friend just so happened to be at a bar 10 or so blocks away. So we trekked through the snow for Erin and Seth to catch up a bit, and to have one more local beer to put a cap on the weekend. It was a lovely, mellow ending to a whirlwind weekend. <br />
<br />
Despite crazy delays, about 5 different rebookings, and a bike that ended up at a different airport and didn't get back to me until more than 24 hours after I'd gotten home, I had an absolutely amazing trip.<br />
<br />
To the race organizers, party planners, beer pourers, volunteers at everything, tour guides, and hosts, you all totally knocked it out of the park. When I found out this race was going to be in Philadelphia, meaning a trip to see one of my best buds, I never imagined how much of the city I'd get to see, and how welcoming you all would be. I now have so many more friends to visit in Philly. Good work. And to J-Vass, Chris, and Sheldon, thanks for letting two bike racers come and go from your beautiful home wet, muddy, and at odd hours. <br />
<br />
Of course, thanks also go to friends who trained with me, taking me on nightrides through Wilderness to sharpen my handling, to Matt for helping me keep my bike dialed and making sure I'd know how to put it back together, to Sydney for the bike case and for encouraging me despite the timing at the end of the semester to stick to it and make the trip happen, to Erin for being an absolute blast to share the weekend with, to Megan and Diane for taking care of the house and cats, to Sam and Skip at War Axe for a bike that rocked the scene, to my women of Sheclismo and buddies in Star City CX for cheering me on from afar, my parents for taking me to the airport and my mom for biting her tongue about me racing in a junkyard (and then commenting that it kind of reminded her of her own childhood when she saw the pictures), to my classmates understanding, albeit with a little bewilderment, that I needed to do this right before finals and forgiving my lack of attention in class...Thank you all. It was an incredible way to cap my season, and it's going to be extremely hard to top that. <br />
<br />
<br />elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-13305633349363494962013-12-02T09:41:00.001-06:002013-12-02T09:41:14.502-06:00December HundyJust really love getting in a monthly long ride in excellent company. We got the December hundy done right off the bat, December 1st, in conditions that could hardly be better.<br />
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First pee stop it was cold enough that my jacket and jersey, a bit sweaty when I took them off (woman + bib shorts), were frozen when I put them back on. From there on, temperatures warmed and the wind continued to be non-existent. <br />
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We rode to Cortland, Adams, and Sterling.<br />
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Lots of terrible gas station food. Lots of enjoying the subtlety in color variations that the winter landscape provides -- it takes a bit more work to see the beauty. <br />
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Great day on the bike. Despite the shortness of the daylight, we made it
home well before dark to beautiful pink & purple skies.<br />
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Now, for three intense days of schoolwork and packing...and then I'm heading to Philadelphia on Thursday to take part in the supreme shenanigans known as Bilenky Junkyard Cross and the Singlespeed CX World Championships... elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-2020427379460389462013-11-04T09:47:00.002-06:002013-11-04T09:47:42.557-06:00November HundySo, big gaps in blogging. I know. October has been busy! Some great 'cross racing (loving singlespeed, loving teaching new racers), the Homegrown Film Festival (best ever), and my little brother getting married (kind of a big deal). Might have more to write about those things later. But for now, some photos from yesterday...<br />
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Eight months in a row of gravel centuries, 4 of them on singlespeed. Pretty great stuff.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9WytrIM0smj6zufUo88j8pG_jdRYAjKVTqMbbN3VMQUIS689UuAq4qo5qa7Ks49DafFM8fkKWBteQcz6m8LLQbLKBM9ucZSzdnx0KAmBWjmWAq1rtqGJgeILrGeLdxIwfhWJ2w/s1600/P1130625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9WytrIM0smj6zufUo88j8pG_jdRYAjKVTqMbbN3VMQUIS689UuAq4qo5qa7Ks49DafFM8fkKWBteQcz6m8LLQbLKBM9ucZSzdnx0KAmBWjmWAq1rtqGJgeILrGeLdxIwfhWJ2w/s400/P1130625.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windiest hundy so far? Dang. Crazy cross wind. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVp2hE-09hae1Nl6KCnrH-nxoRxQvaHGqHgQxphj7V4fATJ1tm3XGY9he__91xWrkeK7YRB0gQ_qQ05FihGakolK3_C_uC1hXUgZQld1X_AuCuaGflMWqXKNYHsCH1sbU9sBrTQ/s1600/P1130627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVp2hE-09hae1Nl6KCnrH-nxoRxQvaHGqHgQxphj7V4fATJ1tm3XGY9he__91xWrkeK7YRB0gQ_qQ05FihGakolK3_C_uC1hXUgZQld1X_AuCuaGflMWqXKNYHsCH1sbU9sBrTQ/s400/P1130627.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was Sunday...could've gone dancing...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibunDLmoi9qwfuYyDm9hbWX6DUDboELD9spUM7wDK0cQ0C3G6gghqeTPaQoY7hcw9VlqaljDU1ppl8Q6VtkLPUVYrOwNrqFENF0J7zyLu96QRVNYyw_htIjIexHvsdjkyjIAc1Wg/s1600/P1130629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibunDLmoi9qwfuYyDm9hbWX6DUDboELD9spUM7wDK0cQ0C3G6gghqeTPaQoY7hcw9VlqaljDU1ppl8Q6VtkLPUVYrOwNrqFENF0J7zyLu96QRVNYyw_htIjIexHvsdjkyjIAc1Wg/s400/P1130629.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ASPIRING town of Camden</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMPgpNtMZUn-OpGL-aaYI4j98n8JLmJhgilhohn_NqXVU4uAs_i6miGuVxiG_PXm5x7DqdHPX3lu76s5bZ5aT8dEBb2reE1inUD2M7TIzXrU7bXHwGGvfWJDqUpHlXgetpdltPg/s1600/P1130631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMPgpNtMZUn-OpGL-aaYI4j98n8JLmJhgilhohn_NqXVU4uAs_i6miGuVxiG_PXm5x7DqdHPX3lu76s5bZ5aT8dEBb2reE1inUD2M7TIzXrU7bXHwGGvfWJDqUpHlXgetpdltPg/s400/P1130631.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found an abandoned German Evangelical cemetery. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5g1RyKcA8l4sw167GADgJ4qT51reyU-feEWQFodHMgV7lZazzf3g1mDOeGHtxcPs5i3WYOrGktiXbALahcQ9W5D60u7cmRqNvqxFEzrytttHtkc3Bp6-vKse6-j2spx9zNYxDVw/s1600/P1130632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5g1RyKcA8l4sw167GADgJ4qT51reyU-feEWQFodHMgV7lZazzf3g1mDOeGHtxcPs5i3WYOrGktiXbALahcQ9W5D60u7cmRqNvqxFEzrytttHtkc3Bp6-vKse6-j2spx9zNYxDVw/s400/P1130632.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzxR90WgBa3QMm_hjr7T1LFABVM4EBHoZP8GAWb45wHrqVmZsLpvwQonFiKCkd52bCm-T2ub2ECF7zXQ_NtmtygGx1HvjVr67x00YO_Hmzsmn3A8Tx2DERc0yBFTkSSOisMywrg/s1600/P1130633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzxR90WgBa3QMm_hjr7T1LFABVM4EBHoZP8GAWb45wHrqVmZsLpvwQonFiKCkd52bCm-T2ub2ECF7zXQ_NtmtygGx1HvjVr67x00YO_Hmzsmn3A8Tx2DERc0yBFTkSSOisMywrg/s400/P1130633.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Name spelled properly!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfxaQbf-FlBJVvWAMAZeOL5PJxHRiD8q9QG1GQR5AbZIe3XhZ7p9vpcrQlg1faSqMD2EXpxdPM60tK00492s3G_3FFolTKoIpZ-1yOCubkF9VtQNl5nWZi6dGbrL8lV8u8mMVBQ/s1600/P1130635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfxaQbf-FlBJVvWAMAZeOL5PJxHRiD8q9QG1GQR5AbZIe3XhZ7p9vpcrQlg1faSqMD2EXpxdPM60tK00492s3G_3FFolTKoIpZ-1yOCubkF9VtQNl5nWZi6dGbrL8lV8u8mMVBQ/s400/P1130635.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This church, too. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsr8nkc-oWQ9heyg3V6NSYSOkv-gq64uGCQYQtVNbNQDDkgi85wfkUI0NdsHJUb_f3SYqcMD8p4B_IVqZ_HcFRVZfyhsO9pz_cown_AJRiAL3PVODAFZFlADcyhHjTaKPUoCgNw/s1600/P1130636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsr8nkc-oWQ9heyg3V6NSYSOkv-gq64uGCQYQtVNbNQDDkgi85wfkUI0NdsHJUb_f3SYqcMD8p4B_IVqZ_HcFRVZfyhsO9pz_cown_AJRiAL3PVODAFZFlADcyhHjTaKPUoCgNw/s400/P1130636.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, Fall!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtJ1oaCqlzzNFFv4Tcr37T5HOojJiSWAYq3xWkPGEQ91T5ehvtHjukcTEgsK5-_sayhqGC3ahHoFlg0FVIcjdUuAe7-OzDWfJ2l5zrQ03qPDqmR9nEf4KVRMYM0WZ230lWazsaA/s1600/P1130638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtJ1oaCqlzzNFFv4Tcr37T5HOojJiSWAYq3xWkPGEQ91T5ehvtHjukcTEgsK5-_sayhqGC3ahHoFlg0FVIcjdUuAe7-OzDWfJ2l5zrQ03qPDqmR9nEf4KVRMYM0WZ230lWazsaA/s400/P1130638.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McKelvie Road, west of Malcolm. Gravel Worlds course in reverse. WALLS.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5rE_e1UdQbqO4LTit7XIC7C27ObwtpB3ZnVe4YxHYsbrNwea4CyKMzWYGMmJpk8RrOwqSWd8lj5I2HWTSK7tCCazDf242rSLw2BiMihVj7fK7H9Qs7pWFC_ECX3aUjb-qBj0zA/s1600/P1130639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5rE_e1UdQbqO4LTit7XIC7C27ObwtpB3ZnVe4YxHYsbrNwea4CyKMzWYGMmJpk8RrOwqSWd8lj5I2HWTSK7tCCazDf242rSLw2BiMihVj7fK7H9Qs7pWFC_ECX3aUjb-qBj0zA/s400/P1130639.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Burning bushes on FIRE.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leg out for crosswind balance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZTsvAgKPNHfBNOKiFE2tzM6QOhZLGgvUJGHdzEmY6xz2UqR36NDmKyjoaGMtc-mFw-PQv_qw9cSvAJqKCIYg8KsSm0vqnv4pmX5UQrU71NELNlJjZWONTdXV-N3nEZOQoI3tWQ/s1600/P1130642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZTsvAgKPNHfBNOKiFE2tzM6QOhZLGgvUJGHdzEmY6xz2UqR36NDmKyjoaGMtc-mFw-PQv_qw9cSvAJqKCIYg8KsSm0vqnv4pmX5UQrU71NELNlJjZWONTdXV-N3nEZOQoI3tWQ/s400/P1130642.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blazing sunset.</td></tr>
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<br />elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-69652092117595702072013-10-08T12:11:00.000-05:002013-10-08T12:37:32.707-05:00First excursion into high desert ridingAmazingly, I am somewhat at a loss for words regarding my first foray into riding in the high desert of western Colorado and eastern Utah. I am reduced to cliches about breathtaking vistas. About the vastness of sky. The deepness of the nighttime stars. The contrast between the warming October sun in the daytime, the chilling crisp air at night. The delight of spending a few days in which even miniscule usage of modern technology seems silly. The closeness that comes from shared adventure with friends. <br />
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I have two observations to make about my riding.<br />
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1. I learn quickly, especially under self-imposed pressure to keep up with more experienced riders and the help of following said riders' lines and/or advice.<br />
2. I can do so much more than I think I am capable of doing. <br />
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In combination, these two observations meant a rapid escalation of skills. Having never ridden on such terrain, the first day was daunting and included a pretty hard fall. By the third day, I easily cleared the same drop that threw me down two days earlier. I rode up things wouldn't have attempted the first day, thrilled with the ease at which I could maneuver my bike. I began to see not just one but <i>several</i> lines over and through rocky sections. I let go of lots of fear, and was rewarded with massive returns in a sense of accomplishment and dopamine boosts. In closing, go challenge yourself. It's worth it.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/nocoastphotos/sets/72157636329791264/" target="_blank">More photos here...</a>elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-41300650326430977522013-09-09T09:20:00.004-05:002013-09-09T09:20:35.343-05:00September Hundy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_UFro0wtj0y54gVc2gfIxOhVpjKKpxsYltC0C9XXf8mkwZiifyVZA5mIzo78Q3yZ4SF2FZ4e6K5Ummpld9NmBiIycPWoJiCB9B2Y9rWFm6kbVaseIJWfE4JqRhOXa1Z7zu5puA/s1600/P1130194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_UFro0wtj0y54gVc2gfIxOhVpjKKpxsYltC0C9XXf8mkwZiifyVZA5mIzo78Q3yZ4SF2FZ4e6K5Ummpld9NmBiIycPWoJiCB9B2Y9rWFm6kbVaseIJWfE4JqRhOXa1Z7zu5puA/s320/P1130194.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling out the MoPac with Berly & MW</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hut Two: Electric Bugaloo. Lots of advertisements for Mormon.org</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRu48E5ux4uhjH_850WMoOtv6RXJ1MkTp9rdm7z7iF8Ym3UerUg-LN2XaODdzIsyAwks4DgYOipUowlTUJoeEnT_UtcAWbhzUANFKhFL9k-U-btsrXVJsh2dzEpMoBNb5hXly1g/s1600/P1130201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRu48E5ux4uhjH_850WMoOtv6RXJ1MkTp9rdm7z7iF8Ym3UerUg-LN2XaODdzIsyAwks4DgYOipUowlTUJoeEnT_UtcAWbhzUANFKhFL9k-U-btsrXVJsh2dzEpMoBNb5hXly1g/s320/P1130201.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teammates looking matchy-matchy!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWA7zYd8ttt4ahQD1QAwFeJvs0aJHCrUqBV_UiuxLsMziv0EgRJTnvci5nYec-sJCqjRV5JuZrTNoRDyyhHMrXB4uPq17KCVD31lFJ3HEKZgWIYSfLOsRTB6Mewq4iJC6weiJHg/s1600/P1130202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWA7zYd8ttt4ahQD1QAwFeJvs0aJHCrUqBV_UiuxLsMziv0EgRJTnvci5nYec-sJCqjRV5JuZrTNoRDyyhHMrXB4uPq17KCVD31lFJ3HEKZgWIYSfLOsRTB6Mewq4iJC6weiJHg/s320/P1130202.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nebraska Route 1</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPd_sNH2tBH5K5DatJnq2aPnPfBqmXdkB9MwE77gUM5-yigHh0n5c4nJ1di6EaiYHlnPcNBt8ndH2lWI4FrjmYUilV2hS51guIGMY-bP1jnjeUS5Z-9EDoxLoMLP3b4yub-n9VQ/s1600/P1130205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPd_sNH2tBH5K5DatJnq2aPnPfBqmXdkB9MwE77gUM5-yigHh0n5c4nJ1di6EaiYHlnPcNBt8ndH2lWI4FrjmYUilV2hS51guIGMY-bP1jnjeUS5Z-9EDoxLoMLP3b4yub-n9VQ/s320/P1130205.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MMR carpet ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1IG2o-ACbcYLxnDOZPNwwzIxLOwfmgQlNn8zb-ljunkJA1dtBY1XTC-ekK_xyaU_nwllvQBIonJpNPHZeqG3RMDokOqLPSbu5a3mSdSR02YHZ9IBtFvWfFTWsmQX74EBLZp5_w/s1600/P1130208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1IG2o-ACbcYLxnDOZPNwwzIxLOwfmgQlNn8zb-ljunkJA1dtBY1XTC-ekK_xyaU_nwllvQBIonJpNPHZeqG3RMDokOqLPSbu5a3mSdSR02YHZ9IBtFvWfFTWsmQX74EBLZp5_w/s320/P1130208.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is 322nd Street. Yup. Street. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Platte River tower climb was challenging in cleats</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGC94Pp3s8Zm7in326DldGpDCSqeq0XIQyESv_DtBufnZvZGrLbQX3to8inBqylo2XbsQBnRj5COOhHNqAH_sTZ19LoaittvoKqsBVHjZlvzuIpQ46u4yudRTC3UGmaI01a1XkQ/s1600/P1130212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGC94Pp3s8Zm7in326DldGpDCSqeq0XIQyESv_DtBufnZvZGrLbQX3to8inBqylo2XbsQBnRj5COOhHNqAH_sTZ19LoaittvoKqsBVHjZlvzuIpQ46u4yudRTC3UGmaI01a1XkQ/s320/P1130212.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ran into Stacey and Jeri on their matching Fate 29ers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VH2OVErfG7bcdnT5ZSG21vBX9aGX7A_X76DTYHuOjSW0wroogaAKYpjo7JfbjMSwC5YPvkyQe5l11DKLZpethj4IkGC_F85D6uQYeOj65dmNrkjIdKPvIcXIByfqgEN9BGedpg/s1600/P1130214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VH2OVErfG7bcdnT5ZSG21vBX9aGX7A_X76DTYHuOjSW0wroogaAKYpjo7JfbjMSwC5YPvkyQe5l11DKLZpethj4IkGC_F85D6uQYeOj65dmNrkjIdKPvIcXIByfqgEN9BGedpg/s320/P1130214.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and stopped to feed apples to their little boys</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-amQpaP-3DYyuKa9EWNKUi0mK0vouOWvVxHztzNCw95Enf_fjTOJafVnwRdQ8PYhZS90L5xO1dZcyjs6_E6ncGLHAs2zJkxRrcdfNL1oCATJW6jbV-_eMhNuqL63mO1tAeHfb8Q/s1600/P1130217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-amQpaP-3DYyuKa9EWNKUi0mK0vouOWvVxHztzNCw95Enf_fjTOJafVnwRdQ8PYhZS90L5xO1dZcyjs6_E6ncGLHAs2zJkxRrcdfNL1oCATJW6jbV-_eMhNuqL63mO1tAeHfb8Q/s320/P1130217.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glass Church. Beautiful</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcgFrULs3rSR3n2hRHV7yyfmELDiK0Fgs35TSdgCNIU-2FRfPp0jo4W667imz-FxjeDXAzmPZONVSVfECWhURrXHcbOOG6oUViii9DvCyt4LuQpIuKwp4OR6BJ8Xu_YPeapHAVw/s1600/P1130219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcgFrULs3rSR3n2hRHV7yyfmELDiK0Fgs35TSdgCNIU-2FRfPp0jo4W667imz-FxjeDXAzmPZONVSVfECWhURrXHcbOOG6oUViii9DvCyt4LuQpIuKwp4OR6BJ8Xu_YPeapHAVw/s320/P1130219.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing back over the Platte</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSGBCHvI42b7Ou9dwsTybWU-m4j4UxOO5n1AcUQ30_BtMk4-_64wqYipxqKGLSSXHuidr3xKat2GMPMaReOo1AN5bv0tBBT4J8A6JwtwQYGGT-7yRbb68Q62BoHt2TfvK7hWKSA/s1600/P1130220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSGBCHvI42b7Ou9dwsTybWU-m4j4UxOO5n1AcUQ30_BtMk4-_64wqYipxqKGLSSXHuidr3xKat2GMPMaReOo1AN5bv0tBBT4J8A6JwtwQYGGT-7yRbb68Q62BoHt2TfvK7hWKSA/s320/P1130220.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kimberly Rd. It's like she was still with us.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jqJculOvcHJ0zvj6A-MxIgldAQhzRE971BpMCj72-7IgktmzIHPr6jXUKrc-wGd5URutAUO10fhGzehlmQhkePC3bQ5QCnuOhYk6PsR0EjJBORR5zhHpTfvQnBADKG0_QSnasQ/s1600/P1130221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jqJculOvcHJ0zvj6A-MxIgldAQhzRE971BpMCj72-7IgktmzIHPr6jXUKrc-wGd5URutAUO10fhGzehlmQhkePC3bQ5QCnuOhYk6PsR0EjJBORR5zhHpTfvQnBADKG0_QSnasQ/s320/P1130221.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old homestead cemetery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-RXeni9yf66qRsYr3yPRlUKXbEnz7AS4ZJvSZ-TJ-sJCiJ8zl5p6Exl7B6b6HdkQs6bg6MMCKycjMq2gqQKwvehTAaa_VK3bd1loU5wAd3HdVM_XB4Y3pH5XnGg6wNj0U6ix2g/s1600/P1130225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-RXeni9yf66qRsYr3yPRlUKXbEnz7AS4ZJvSZ-TJ-sJCiJ8zl5p6Exl7B6b6HdkQs6bg6MMCKycjMq2gqQKwvehTAaa_VK3bd1loU5wAd3HdVM_XB4Y3pH5XnGg6wNj0U6ix2g/s320/P1130225.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring in the cemetery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtU9IiIseonwT60H-GfjMbXF7NfsiHmjngOABDrtUBvUhYWo7UCG_4lfNnZYxrSavfqRl-_IUmLhefLd7bgiMRy3z56mxc43LUuA0iPgmGf_6ZuRyUGOgDtWkhnKt3BD4LG7DfQ/s1600/P1130226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtU9IiIseonwT60H-GfjMbXF7NfsiHmjngOABDrtUBvUhYWo7UCG_4lfNnZYxrSavfqRl-_IUmLhefLd7bgiMRy3z56mxc43LUuA0iPgmGf_6ZuRyUGOgDtWkhnKt3BD4LG7DfQ/s320/P1130226.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the cemetery gate</td></tr>
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Six months in a row of membership in the gravel Hundy of the Month Club. 8 hundies this year -- 9 if you count Kanza's 203 miles as 2. Going to be harder to squeeze these distance rides into a busy fall and they definitely don't fit in with cyclocross training/racing, but I can't stop now...elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23521711.post-12230910735513327612013-09-02T20:32:00.002-05:002013-09-04T08:22:28.418-05:00Conquering demons at Gravel Worlds 2013I hate heat. I try to resign to it, to embrace it, to love it, but it just doesn't happen for me. After a fairly cool and mild summer, I was not going to be granted a nice cool day to attempt Gravel Worlds on a singlespeed. Nope. At 5 AM, there was already a strong south wind. Right. In Nebraska, that means it's going to be a hot day.<br />
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Having the start/finish at my family farm proved to be far more emotional than I'd anticipated. We had a nice mellow dinner the night before; I slept in my grandparents' bedroom, and my mom made coffee and breakfast in the morning. I peeked out the kitchen window a few times, but when I went down to the barn at 5:30 or so and the whole drive was full of people, it hit me. I was already welling up a bit. My dear parents love their crazy daughter well enough to allow 200 friends and strangers to roll up early in the morning to start a bike race, and there was my dad with the big Swiss cowbell from my mom's host family in Fehraltorf. Wow. I just kind of drank it in.<br />
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My pack at the start decided to hang back, letting pretty much everyone else roll out first. The gravel was sandy, thick and loose right from the start, and the hills were going to be pretty steep right away. With conditions like that, I knew I wouldn't even try riding up the Denton Wall for fear I slide out and take out someone behind me. I was working on getting the rhythm of climbing, and while I was mostly staying with Matt, the needle-like hills on SW 140th into a headwind had me nervous early on. What the hell was I trying to prove to myself with the singlespeed conversion? Why did I take on this stupid new challenge? Ugh!<br />
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Eventually, I gave up trying to chase and just rode. And once I relaxed a bit, it got a bit easier. Just learn to ebb and flow with the hills.<br />
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I tried to get a good photo of masterful gravel photographer Eric Benjamin, but this was the best I could do. <br />
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Field of sunflowers. Beautiful. Remember to enjoy the scenery. After we turned east, I knew we'd have some more climbs, but at least we
didn't have headwind on this stretch. I loved rolling through the War
Axe KOM banners, and really loved that I made it up that climb on a
singlespeed, the same climb I'd cursed and barely made up with gears
back in the winter. I've come a long way... <br />
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Around then is when I finally caught up to Jim and Matt. Turns out Matt was chasing Jim, who was laying down the speed early on. Once the three of us were together (with Corey on Jim's postcard making it feel like our Ponca Ride crew), we were in business. <br />
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Jim on his beautiful Spacehorse, for Anna. <br />
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We cruised on at a good clip, not taking any breaks before Hickman, only stopping briefly there, despite having a long line to wait in, and not stopping until we were past Bennet. By then, the clouds had burned off and it was getting warm.<br />
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At the first oasis, we ate burritos and cooled off with the hose before heading further north. Never in my life have I disliked a tailwind as much as I did that day. The sun was blazing hot, and with a tailwind, there was no relief. <br />
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The roads were dusty, too, and I was really happy I'd brought my kerchief for the inevitable car dustings. <br />
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Linda Kelsey on her first gravel grinder, looking great, riding solid. She finished 4th in the very competitive Masters Women's field.<br />
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We took advantage of the tailwind push as much as possible, but this was where the fact that Matt and I were geared differently was most evident. I couldn't keep up as my 42 x 18 spun out where his 42 x 17 could push a little faster. Caught up as we turned west onto Mill Road for a heavy dose of climbs. And heat.<br />
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At 70 miles in, we were on pace for a 12-hour finish. That would have been sweet. But at the same time that we realized this, the need for shade was just overwhelming. We stopped for a bit in a hollow, then half a mile later were greeted by the awesome roving oasis that was Matt Fuller and Wes Trout. They had cold, fresh berries, tons of ice, and cold beer. Oh, yes, please. Fuller also had some old t-shirts in his car that I promptly dipped in the ice water and wrapped around my and other people's necks. The visible relief and nearly-orgasmic joy this produced was awesome. I even got a marriage proposal. I taught a woman from Michigan to stuff ice down her sports bra. It was that hot. If that oasis had been in the shade, I never would've left. But we pushed on. <br />
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The Malcolm General Store is always so friendly and welcoming, this time with lots of handmade welcome signs, orange slices, and bonus lottery tickets. Wow! We had a nice stop there, and saw lots of Lincoln faces there to support or pick up riders abandoning the cause. But we pushed on...<br />
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It wasn't going to be easy coming out of Malcolm either, as we had more hills to climb, more heat to fight, and relentless south wind. We stopped at an oasis Jennifer Hoffmann had in the trees, with more ice water and bananas. <br />
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Matt pointed out a beautiful house he'd drawn off in the distance. Incredible place. <br />
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We seemed to pass by a lot of cemeteries this year. We inched our way to the next oasis, where Lucas had a tent, snacks, and
more cold beer. Yes please. It was getting rough. More people were
pulling the plug. But we pushed on.<br />
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After rounding the lake, we turned south again, into a long stretch of headwind. We had a bit of a paceline going, but after a time or two where the person at the front upped the pace, or I'd hear the clicks of shifters, I couldn't do it. I tried and succeeded a couple times to latch back on after getting yo-yo'd off the back of the group, but I was burning matches I didn't have in reserve. Jim had been hurting for a while, and he was nowhere to be seen behind me. As I rolled past Matt on my way to the back of the paceline, I told him I couldn't hold the pace much longer. We slowed back, and I craved shade. I was trying to will him pull over, because he was a little ahead of me and I couldn't chase anymore. Finally, I got close enough to whimper out "I need to stop." We pulled off into the shade, and I took off my helmet. I was lying down for probably a good five minutes, eyes closed, before I realized that I was lying on top of a baby cedar tree that was poking me in the backside. I was in rough shape. We were 110 miles in, and the heat index was probably right at about the same number. (Air temperature was 96 in Malcolm...) I was whimpering. I couldn't eat. And Matt, in the way he does best, listened to my incoherence and just said, "This is your demon. Fight it. This is the hardest part."<br />
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We pushed on. We were almost to Milford. As we rolled up to the gas station there, Matt Bergen stopped me at the door, took one of my water bottles, and filled it with Stella Artois. My goodness, that tasted good. The booths in the c-store were filled with people who looked absolutely worked over. People I hadn't seen all day, who'd been way ahead of me, who'd been relegated to taking long breaks. Someone had the genius idea of walking into the walk-in beer cooler. I did. It felt glorious. Jim pulled the plug here, and his little daughter Marie (who calls me pink fast at cyclocross races) gave me a sticker of a pink owl as a totem to get me to the finish. <br />
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I did not take any Liquid Nitro. But rolling out of Milford, feeling great, things got tricky on my psyche. See, from Milford to the farm is a pretty easy jaunt. But, having not really calculated the miles, I had failed to examine the cue sheets enough to realize that we were going to be making a big loop in a very not straightforward direction. Nonetheless, spirits were high, and after a short jaunt east, Clint instigated working together. <br />
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He and I packed the group together, and suddenly we had a paceline of
eight working together. I was trying to keep people in even rotation as
best as I could, and it worked pretty well for a good chunk of time. If nothing else, there was a great camaraderie in the spirit of getting this shit done. From here on out, we were all going to finish. <br />
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We'd been warned of some dangerous bridges with big slats, and they were no joke. <br />
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Especially this late in the ride, it required a lot of concentration, and after riding the first one, I walked the next. Definitely not going down here. We'd been told there was to be one more secret checkpoint along this route, and while I kept thinking we were going around turns that were perfect locations, the oasis wasn't materializing. I was starting to think they'd probably closed it down already, but this was proving to be psychologically troubling, too. After telling myself I'd eat at the oasis, or switch on my light at the oasis, etc. etc., it was difficult to have it not show up. Someone in the group flatted, and while a couple people pushed on, the rest of us took a break.<br />
<br />
After we started rolling again, the relative flatness of the last 15 or so miles gave way to the Denton Alps again. And at 140 miles of singlespeeding in -- 90 more miles than I'd ever done on a singlespeed -- I was feeling it. I was making it up the climbs, but there was no sticking with the geared guys. <br />
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Matt and I stopped for one last break to catch the tail end of the sunset. It hurt, but we pushed on. We were so close to home. And for me, it really was home. I was getting emotional and excited again.<br />
<br />
"This is the road where I first drove a car on the road! Like, not in the pasture, but on the road!"<br />
"This is where my cousin lived when I was little. My mom's uncle's place!" <br />
"This is where I ran my car into a guardrail after my little brother and I got into a stupid fight! And we tried to fix it and hide it from our parents!"<br />
<br />
As we hit the pavement right before the driveway, the smile across my face was just huge. Corey was there at the end of the drive to tell people where to turn, and when he said, "The finish is right here," my answer was: "I know, I'm home, baby!!!" It was just before 9:30. Nowhere close to a 12-hour finish, about 45 minutes past a daylight finish...but it was a FINISH.<br />
<br />
My parents were there, of course, and so were my brother and very soon to be sister-in-law, Amber. There were people there cheering and drinking beers, eating food, and enjoying the beautiful night.<br />
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Amber snapped my photo with my new SS Women's champ jersey...and wow, I was just so happy. I DID IT. And except for the heat, I kind of really liked the singlespeed. It was more rhythmic than riding with gears, in a way I can't really articulate. It was more mindless in some ways, more physical. It was harder, but I was capable of it, and it felt good to be capable of pushing through difficult sections instead of slipping into an easier gear. <br />
<br />
Now, it's time to try to reprogram. School started last Monday, and cyclocross practice starts next week. I have a graduate program to finish off by May, a business to start, and a lot of great projects in the hopper. I'm excited that there are several women who were new to Gravel Worlds who are likely to give 'cross a try. I'm going to race 'cross on the singlespeed this year, and I'm looking forward to mentoring some new racers who are likely to kick my ass!!<br />
<br />
Until next time...elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08235810441424395356noreply@blogger.com2