MOJO Running Loose

I lost my mojo. Again.

It’s happened before, so I know I will find it.  Eventually.  The thing is, it’s never really where I found it last time.  Once I found it in a book.  One time I found it in a pair of shoes.  Oh, then there was that time that I found it in the e-mail that read, “Sportsbackers Marathon Training Team Registration Confirmation”.

SO I’m out here pounding the pavement, looking and looking.  Barely hanging on in some respects because without mojo, you have to do a lot of mental work to keep forward momentum. 

I kept thinking that this time I’m going to find it in my Brooks, on my bike as I'm out riding with The Ladies of the Lanes, or in a blank Word document.  Odd how Word has the ability to wipe my mind completely clean of all inspiration and thought...

I’m pretty sure I’m not going to find it in my SPEEDO, because even though SPEEDO and MOJO look a lot alike in the ‘words that make sense to no one’ department, most people would agree that finding extra anything in a speedo is kind of difficult, or even disappointing, for the average swimmer.  And then there’s the point that I’m certainly not looking at anyone else’s speedo for my mojo... there’s a fail just waiting to happen....

I thought I MIGHT have found my MOJO a few weeks ago running loose on the streets of Richmond.  It was an early morning MTT run, and we passed a woman in platform stiletto heels on the corner saying, “Here ‘tis.  Here ‘tis!”.  Upon closer inspection of the situation I determined it wasn’t my mojo she was advertising.

So, I kept pushing on without it.  And Tuesday night, I had a breakthrough.  A  development that is making me wonder if this time I will find it in my grocery store.

True story. 

See, I had a glimmer of my mojo the other night on a hard effort bike ride.  There’s a hill on the route we took that freaking scares me.  Not the down part.  I mean, yes its steep but I’m not afraid of the drop.  That I can control.  I can choose my speed of descent.  My rate, my pace, and my position are my choice. 

No... what scares me on that hill is the climb.  What if I fail?

So, on Tuesday I dropped to the back of the pack and was patient.  And then when I felt the balance was right, I took a risk and attacked the hill.  I realized on the way up that I was riding completely free of fear.  I trusted my bike, my legs, and my ability to handle myself... 

Aha!  MOJO!

And the only thing I really changed on Tuesday was that I ate a calorie dense high protein high carb meal around midday with Biolabud.  It was a ridiculous amount of food, but I was starving.  And I felt great afterwards.  The midday beer might have helped my mood too.

Huh.  I have to wonder...

What if I went back to eating like an elite athlete, instead of eating like a girl-scout cookie ingredient list?  

Could my mojo be found in a proper amount of protein?  

Possibly my mojo is searching for a better carb balance?  

Regardless, the MOJO is gone again.  

I know because I was wimpy, whining, complaining and somewhat b*tchy by the end of my Wednesday morning ride.  It’ll come back eventually.  I’ll find it.

In the mean time, I’m off to the grocery store for some eggs, whole grains and produce.  Because even if the MOJO isn’t in the food, I’m still ravished and need to find a way to fuel myself responsibly.  Like the athlete I am.

~savor the Mojo~

Cycle LOVE

Ok, Run, this isn't a competition on who I love more.  My heart can fit you both... as I like to tell my children, Love Multiplies, it doesn't Divide.

So.  I love OC.

OC is fun, she's fast, with her new derailleur she totally kicks some epic booty.  She likes a challenge, she really enjoyed racing Illusive on his bike last weekend  (we named Illusive's bike Double Stuff).  OC isn't afraid of the dark, and we ride often before the sun is even up.  When she's not out with me, she is tucked neatly in the garage next to a little shelving unit that holds my helmet, shoes, gloves, lights, mirror, etc.

So, you know that phrase, thou shalt not covet?

Meet G, my son.

"Mom, when you are tired of your orange bike, can you pass it down to me if I learn to clip in?"


Whoa.... what?  When I 'get tired' of my orange bike?  I won't 'get tired' of my orange bike, but ~ if I decide to replace the orange bike, and at that time you have grown and are tall enough for the orange bike, we can negotiate at that point.  notice the words, 'if' and 'negotiate'?

"How tall do I have to be before that will happen?"


I looked him over and thought, oh snap, this could be coming fast...  Well G, your legs have to be as long as my legs are now.  I bet by the time you are 10 or 11 that you will be tall enough for OC.  He's 8, btw.


"So will you teach me to clip in?"


Yes, I will teach you to 'clip in'.


"Right now?"


um.  no.

OFF Balance

It's complicated, this cycling thing.  I had to get CLIP-LESS pedals so I could get CLIPPED IN to my bike....?  This seems an oxymoron to me.

Now, if you're a cyclist, don't try to argue that it isn't insane.  It's insane.  In all other things in life, if you get (something)less, you don't have that thing.  For example.

LACEless shoes have no shoe laces, and you wouldn't get laced into shoes without laces.

PENNIless individuals have no money, and you wouldn't get pennies from someone who's penniless.

TOPless beaches have no tops and... wait, that's a bad example.

Still.  I find the language of cycling to be just that much outside of my understanding.

The thing is, regardless of the language nuances, once I had the clipless pedals ON the bike, I no longer had the mad skillz needed to ride it...  so, I arranged to meet Coach Q at The Creek for a lesson.


He started by putting OC in his trainer while I put on my new (ugly as sin) "whiter than white" white shoes.

I hopped on OC.  And for the life of me, could not get my feet clipped into the pedals.  Total fail.

"Relax, you're over thinking it."

Probably good advice for anything from ethics papers to clipless pedals.

"It takes getting used to, flip the pedal with your toe."

Bah!

"Without looking."

I was still struggling with coordination.  Is that left foot or left hand?

"There's a life cycle at the gym with your name on it."  ~nice~

Eventually, we got the tension adjusted ~ meaning I was able to relax ~

...and get the tension adjusted ~ meaning I could physically get the foot in and out of the pedal ~

...and I managed to get clipped, unclipped, clipped, unclipped, "Oh Hi SpeeDee and Lady Em".

...clipped, and oh snap - I have an audience?

Once it seemed I had mastered talking to my audience and clipping and un at the same time with only minimal razzing and harassment from the gallery, Q decided it was time to move OC off the trainer.

~gasp~

It's all good though.  The plan was to ride in some grass incase I fell, and we stopped to talk a few seconds of strategy.  This is why it's important to travel with your own coach.  

"The trick is unclipping, stopping and 'leaning' the bike in the right direction, in the right order".  Sounds simple right?  Something about the mischievous light in Q's eyes indicated that the simplicity was all in the language.  Here we go again with the cycling language thing...  

So remember when you were a kid and you learned to ride a two wheeler, and your mom or dad ran along beside your bike with a horrified and stricken expression on their face in the event you should crash your bike into their car, a handicapped parking sign or a brick wall....?  No?  Oh... well.   Me either.

Q's reflexes are REALLY fast...

Fortunately, mine are fast too... and I was able to unclip and catch myself, before OC and I took Q out on a lateral.  I did NOT fall, I'm just stating it for the record here.  I nearly fell, that's really not the same thing.  I'm not sure, I may have screamed, or perhaps shrieked is a better word.... but I didn't fall.

After a few passes, we mutually decided it wasn't really working.  It rained all day Saturday, and I was having to work too hard to get the bike going in the grass.  I needed to just go for it.

I walked the bike out onto the parking lot, visualized what I was trying to do, clipped in my left foot, rotated the pedal, took off, settled into my saddle and clip... like I'd been doing it my whole life.

All that fear that I would suck, crash, and burn was wasted energy.  I have good balance, and you know?

I don't suck.  It's nice not to suck.

Once I'd done a few successful passes, terrorized Q by "appearing" to be aiming straight for his car (I was in complete control), Q determined that his work was done and that his car was safer elsewhere.  He gave me some last words of advice and left to do his Sunday thing.

So, Lady Em and SpeeDee took me and OC out for a ride.

OK, Lady Em is HCB/TNT, but she's a GBA cyclist.  Follow?  (Lady Em is on Dee's team ~ HCB, and on TNT, but she's a galactically bada** cyclist)

We rode a hilly route, and I was HOT baby!  no, really, like warm & over dressed.  Again, each time I unclipped and stopped and started and clipped in it was like I had been doing it my whole life.

OC and I were totally one with each other, and by the end of the ride, I was feeling GBA.

(me & Lady Em)
SpeeDee knows a thing or two about being speedy, and she spent a few minutes tweaking my form, and WHOOSH ~ what was that orange flash?  Oh, just g and OC riding a GBA sprint with their new clipless pedals.

When we were done, we realized that it was one year ago this week that I met Lady Em and SpeeDee at The Creek to learn to ride Pink/RB.  *Pink's new owner named her Raspberry Beret.  We celebrated the anniversary in the best way possible.

We had some PT and a little picnic together on the hot asphalt.


It felt good to be in the sunshine soaking up some warmth and friendship.

Drama Club

I never watched Dawson's Creek when it aired originally.  I was a little too ... you know I was going to say "old", but I think probably "jaded" might be a better word.

However, when my oldest child was born in New England, in January, and Dawson's Creek was in syndication airing 3 episodes a day from 10am to 1pm... well, I picked up watching it and was able to see the entire series in a relatively short period of time.  By the way, I never really was satisfied with how it ended.  Why not just give the people what they wanted?


SO anyway, we have this place here in the local area where the real cyclists go to ride called W. Creek.  And every time I think about going out there to ride, I envision the Drama of the naive girl who moves to a new town.

in this case:
me= naive girl
new town= sport of cycling
drama= my complete and total lack of cycling etiquette knowledge.
additional players= "real" cyclists who know what they're doing and go fast.
supporting cast= Kc and her bada** white road bike (insert name here).


I felt I was getting in a little over my head, so I spent a few hours this morning doing a little research.  Isn't that how everyone spends their Saturday mornings?  Recently, for no reason at all, I was accused of being obsessed... (shrug)... I don't see reading for 2 hours about proper bike technique as obsession.  I see that as education.

So after my self assigned reading was complete, OC and I hit the Creek.

I was only a little nervous.  But as I said, Kc and (insert name here), came out to ride with me.  So, we were clueless together.

By the way Kc's bike needs a name.  Jen, aka bike naming GURU of Setting You Free has suggested a few GBA** sounding names, but feel free to chime in.  Kc is fiery, her bike is cool.  I'm 100% certain that this can be put together to make a White Hot name.

As I was saying, Clueless ~ another show I never watched.  But I did see the movie, and now that I think of it, yea, Kc and I definitely giggle enough to qualify...

Anyway, we had a great time.  Lots of giggling, lots of downhills, & what goes down, must go up... and yes, it was fun.  But (isn't there always a but?) the thing that was frustrating for me is that I'm...

not...

as GBA as my bike.  My bike is awesome and I know she has SO much in her.  I can feel the potential each time I put my hands on the bike.  Do not make fun of me, put your hands on my bike if you doubt me and see for yourself...

There's something I'm missing.  Some thing.  I can see it in the riders on the other side of the road.  I can feel it in my ride.  My cadence.  My position.  Each time I see a bike pass me I know there's some secret I'm missing.  I cannot feel, think and breathe with my bike yet, and, there was a time, once upon a time 20 years ago, when I could do that...  

I'm admittedly looking forward to getting out and practicing with OC again to see if I can master this, at the same time I'm dreading the sensation of "sucking at cycling".

SUNDAY FUNDAY RUn...day.. wait.

TODAY was the SECOND twenty miler of my National Marathon Training..pl...an... oh, yea.  I have a fankle injury and I'm not running more than 4 miles at a time.  THATs OK, because that is not going to stop me from joining the GBA** posse for a 20 miler!

POW!

Holy Hot ORANGE or WHITE Road bikes Batman!

Kc & I threw our bikes in our cars and headed out to join T as her bike "escorts"!  We looked a bit like really giggly secret service agents, dressed in all black on our Road Bikes...  for the most part we rode on the street pacing T on the sidewalk for the first 4 miles where we picked up Lisa.

It was cold, and riding a bike at the speed of a runner doesn't get the biker warm, even if the runner's as GBA** as T.

But it was WORTH IT.  I took a bunch of pics, handed the camera off a few times to ensure variety (well, and I was reading the route, so someone else could play photographer while I stared at 38 lines of route direction).

We picked up Iron J at mile 10!  More giggling.  Kc and I stretched out and rode ahead a few times for the sake of... well, stretching out and riding hard really.  It was SUPER fun.  The hills were super fun.  The company was super fun.  Is riding a bike just SUPER FUN?  I. had. no. idea.

I did get my buzz today. The photos are terrible, I'm FFFFfreezing!  I look fat.  I'm wearing 20 layers (one for every mile).

But you know what?  It was worth every cold second.  For the bits of the "run" where Kc and I had to book-it through traffic and up hills, I felt AMAZING.

I would like do that again.


Tomorrow.  In fact...

 

The OTHER WOMAN

I'm cheating on Pink, my bike.  I knew we needed counseling, only, to be honest, my heart wasn't in it.

Yea, it's like that....

...or more specifically, like this:

Exactly this color, this flavor and this style... only, of course, mine's in the garage, and this one's in the computer.

She's a used bike, looking for her forever home.  I'm fostering her & I have 30 days to return her, only, I don't think that's going to happen.

You know how much I hate Pink?

That is SO not how I feel about the Trek.

Trek needs a name, she's ROAD CONE ORANGE, and totally GBA**.  So, anyway, name suggestions welcome.  I've to to call her something.