Beers and bikes and demolition...oh my! (Megan's first Interbike)



 

After my first (BRUTAL) endurance race, I came home to a freshly made bed and tried to rest up for my flight to Vegas.  My legs and rear end had other plans...they kept me awake.  There wasn't any good position to sleep in after climbing 10,000 feet on a cross bike in 7.5 hours.  And while I was second to last in the female division, my legs didn't know the difference.  I finally gave up around 3:45 and decided to make a pot of coffee.  Let's get ready to rumble!

 

I met up with Trevor and Chapman at the airport and they immediately made fun of the way I was dressed.  "If I had known you were such a girly girl, I would have made you stay at home."  Of course, they were joking...few people have seen the other side of Megan.  My closet full of cuteness demanded to be worn.  I listened.  I'm a 31 year-old, single and tom boyish chick.  What do you expect me to wear on a trip to Vegas?  And yes...I had make-up on too!

 

We love beer.

 

The waiting and sitting was making my already sore legs, well, sore.  I was super ready to land in the city that never sleeps.  Once we landed, we grabbed our bags and waited in the SUPER long line to catch a cab.  It was hot as hell.  I forgot about that...but at least there was no humidity.  She is my arch nemesis...humidity makes me want to break stuff.  Anyway, we made it to the hotel and shimmied our way up to our room.  It was time to check out the strip...

 

 

 

As we made our way to the Interbike registration, we noticed all kinds of interesting people.  Drunk bums, drunk college girls, drunk old people and drunk drunks.  It was like walking into a Walmart with an open bar.  Once we took care of business, we decided it was beer thirty. 

 

I'll just skip to the next day because of two reasons... 1) I can't be 100% I'm giving correct information due to the number of adult beverages I consumed and 2) No one wants to hear about awesome cover bands and gangster rap...other than myself.  And besides, we were in bed by 9:30 if that tells you ANYTHING.  I did get to dance...a lot.  Which is more than I could ask for :)

 

 

 

Monday was first day of Outdoor Demo.  Bootleg Canyon was always a destination for my downhill buddies when I lived in Mammoth Lakes.  I never made the trip but had always heard them gushing about it.  It was a hot day in the desert and there were TONS of companies reppin' their stuff.  Beers, food, music and lots of bikes.  Once we hopped off the bus, I realized how beneficial an IV setup would have been.  Meggie needed hydration in a bad way...apply rule #5 here and let's play on some bikes.

 

Mmmmm...Giant

 

First bike I rode was a Giant W's Anthem 29er.  Let me tell you something....IT WAS SIIIIICK!  It felt like a cloud and I felt like an angel riding it across the technical sections.  It was like watching a movie in slow motion...smoooooooth.  I got excited after clearing a sketchy section and decided I was going to increase my pedal strokes just a tad.  Time to get this lady movin'!

 

I got her movin' alright.

 

I came around a small berm and the world stopped immediately.  I'm pretty sure I washed out...when I did, I flew over the handlebars and my left leg slammed into the stem.  I did a few rolls and instantly stood up.  I landed on my chest and couldn't catch my breath.  I was trying to laugh my way into a happy place when Chapman pulled up. 

 

"Dude, did you crash?"

No, dipshit, I'm just covered in dirt and my handlebars are turned all the way around.

"Dude, look at your leg"

 

As I looked down I noticed an immediate and very large hematoma.  I noticed there were a couple of them, actually.  They hurt pretty darn bad, but I wanted to be tough so I got back on my bike.  "I'm alright" (and so sketched out that I rode like a 4 year-old to the next aid station). 

 

The start of something BIG.

 

We stopped at the tent and I got some water.  I felt like a tard...oh well.  Next!

 

We turned in our bikes and checked out more of the demo.  Lots of rad bikes and funky ideas.  Some of my favorites booths were Yeti, Giant, Surly (of course) and Zee.  I saw more DH bikes than I ever needed to see and wanted to ride one pretty bad.  Since I crashed on a non DH trail and I was now Mayor of Wussville, I passed.  The guys were trying to get me to do the Downhill Challenge where people had the opportunity to race against the clock.  I declined.  I would have killed myself.

 

 

 

 

 

We rode around on some different bikes...and tested out more of the ground...or at least I did.  I went over the handlebars YET AGAIN in a pretty loose patch.  This time I wasn't turning or going particularly fast...I just ate it HARD.  I flipped to my right side, tearing up my leg, elbow, hip and shoulder.  My helmet saved the day when my head slammed onto the ground.  We were sure I had cracked it, but luckily I hadn't.  I had blood everywhere and ripped up my jersey.  At this point I was just plain pissed off that I couldn't stay on my bike.  Chapman offered his advice..."Maybe you should try slowing down."  Thanks, Captain Obvious.

 

 

Clean me up, hottie!



 

We headed back to the tents and by this time my hangover was cured and all I had was a headache, probably from slamming my cranium into the desert floor.  We decided to eat and check out some other stuff in and around the demo.  Met all types of cool folks and jammed out to a great DJ at lunch.  On our way out, little angels were handing out water and cans of Sierra Nevada.  Torpedo will bring me back to life!  We went out to eat and met up with some reps...then I rode a mechanical bull.  It was a good day!

 

 

Megan's official beer of Interbike.

 

 

 

Day 2 of Dirt Demo had a little different feel.  We had 26 miles of the Tour de Lake Meade and I had been lined up with a Giant Avail with Di2.  That stuff is smooth like a baby's butt!  Meggie likey!

 

 

Purple Gurple.

 

The first half of the ride was screaming down a hill pretty much all the way to the lake.  The lead pack was flyin' and I tried my best to keep up without all the wobbly kooks whizzing by me on both sides.  Sketchy sketch balls.  Once it flattened out, I decided that 25 mph was faster than I wanted to go and I slowed down a lot.  I was still feelin' Monster Cross in my quads.  We arrived at the lake and took some shots...

 

Photos...not actual shots...

 

The ride back to the demo was up, up and away.  Hmmm.  I love climbing.  Not!  It actually wasn't bad once we got out of the lake basin.  I kept it slow and steady like a turtle and made it back to the Giant tent in one piece.  Thank God I haven't learned how to crash on a road bike...yet.  I was feeling a little snotty at this point and figured it was just allergies from all the dust.  I would later learn that I had SARS.  Ok, not really, but it could have been?!

 

 

 

We milled around demo, ate, drank and rode bikes.  We played on Surly's Pugsly...it was fat.  As silly as you might think they are, they can actually hold a pretty solid line.  I had a great time riding that little thing.  This is where I picked up my new name..."Molly the Shop Kitty".  God bless those guys at Surly.  They are the jam. 

 

 

 

 

Does this bike my my ass look fat?

 

 

 

Fast forward to dinner...drinks...SRAM 25th Anniversary industry party at Lavo.  More dancing...the boys did some gambling.  Pretty mellow evening.  The next day was day 1 of the actual Interbike trade show...let's see mo' bikes!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scott Sub

 

When I walked into the show, I immediately gasped.  It was HUGE!  I felt like Charlie when he entered the Chocolate Factory...except there were no Oompah Loompahs and I couldn't find the chocolate river.  I met quite a few of our local reps and got a sneak peek at what's new for 2013.  I learned a TON and it did nothing but spark more of an interest in these little wheeled beings.  Cool folks everywhere and we all had one great thing in common...bicycles.  We had a few meetings, discussed ideas for the shop and took lots of bike photos...

 

 

 

New Hospital Foam Crosscheck

 

 

Ritchey 650b

 

Wednesday night was Cross Vegas.  Loved this!  I had the pleasure of checking out some rad women on bikes like Alison Powers and Robin Farina.  I felt like ass in a can by this night and the only thing to numb my bird flu pain was Sierra Nevada Torpedo.  I drank till we had to ride the bus back and then I died.  Pretty sure I was going to wake up in a puddle of my own drool...with SARS.  Yep.  It was that bad.  I somehow managed to stay in the "fun zone" until it was bedtime...thank goodness!

 

 

 

 

 

Both my phone and my camera died, so my CX photos are lame and limited.  And blurry.  Boo.

 

 

Thursday.  More trade show.  More bikes.  More cool ass people.  Thursday night...Sinclair party.  It was the jam.  I stayed out too late and had a few too many...so did everyone else.  I dance till I had blisters on both my feet...multiple places.  It was like I ran a marathon in a pair of Keds. 

 

 

We wrapped things up on Friday.  Last minute stroll through the bikes and last minute chats with reps.  I was tired and ready to go home, but sad to return to my "normal life" as a paramedic.  The more time I spend in the bike world, the less I want to be a full-time paramedic.  I'm starting to think about my B.S. in Recreation Management again...will it ever end?

 

The moral of this story, while poorly written, is Interbike opened my eyes.  I'm down for this industry and stoked to see what new things come our way.  I'm even more stoked to finally have a basic knowledge of what I'm doing in the shop.  I can't wait to get back in there and sell the shit out of some bikes.  I met some super awesome folks too...Jamie, Tarbell, Joanna etc.  I actually saw some people that I knew...mostly from my Mammoth and Boone days.  It's for sure a small world out there. 

 

I'm sick, beat up and still very exhausted from my week in Vegas...but ready to hit the shop tomorrow morning and see what I can do.

 

No really...I can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Shut Up Legs! (Pisgah Death March)

 

You know you just did something rad when your own brother admits "I didn't really think you would finish."  To be honest, I was pretty certain I wouldn't either.  I signed up for this race to see what my body was capable of, figuring I'd die or at the very least, get pulled due to time limits.  It is very apparent from the bodily pain I am in at this moment...that I finished.

 

0745 hours...

We gathered at the starting line and chatted with some friends.  I saw my old college classmate from App and we caught up for a bit.  Always nice to see familiar faces at out of town events.  I glanced at the "competition" and sized up who I thought I could potentially beat.  I for sure knew the guy with the baby pink Specialized with purple bar tape was gonna smoke my ass.  You don't mess around with a bike like that.  The girl wearing butterfly wings, a tutu and pink socks wasn't going down without a fight either.  You're either going to A) Drink beer in the lot once the race starts or B) Chick every dude there.

 

0800 hours...

Cowbells a blazin'...here we go.  I must say, the first section of fire roads sucked big hairy you-know-whats.  At one point I was "climbing" a 14% grade.  I walked a few sections just because I knew I had an entire day in the saddle...what's a few yards?  The downs were just as hard as the ups.  Pisgah climbs bring Pisgah descents.  Cross bikes...not made for rutty, rocky, fast downhill.  Sketchy to say the least.  I did the best I could, but those roads beat me up.  I never crashed, but my hands felt like they had been smashed with an anvil.  Super. Epic. Sketchiness.

 

1000 hours...

After suffering like a dog for 20 miles of fire roads, I saw the first aid station.  Hell yes...

I ate pb&j, filled my bottles and continued on my way.  I still had 50 miles to go and I had made the first cut off by 2 hours.  Double hell yes...

Second aid station was only 8 miles away.  I was ready to rumble.  I could feel my "dark place" creeping up and was starting to feel some anxiety about finishing.  I pedaled and ate and drank and pedaled and drank...and walked a few 9% graded areas.  Caught up to a couple of guys riding Surlys.  They passed me around mile 10.  I decided to go up ahead of them because I just knew they'd pass me on the climb.  I needed a head start. I just wanted to see the Blue Ridge Parkway. 

Be very careful what you wish for...

 

I know why the second aid station was only 8 miles from the first.  It took me FOREVER to get there.  The Blue Ridge Parkway in Pisgah is much more gnarly than anything I remember riding when I lived in Boone.  8%, 9% and the gut busting 16%...filled in with some "false flats" at 4%.  With the exception of a few very SHORT downs, I spent 27 miles climbing from the first aid station to the turn off onto 215 from the Parkway.  My sit bones were screaming two hours into the ride and now I was dying.  At this point I was having very dark thoughts and wondering if I could catch the sag wagon.  Please, please God just let me finish.  That's all I want.  I looked behind me...those two guys were gone.  I had dropped them.  Freaking amazing.

 

215 was BITCHIN' and just what I needed to boost my confidence and moral.  8 miles of FAST, curvy DESCENT!!!  I was freezing my happy ass off by this time, but really enjoying myself.  Cross tires bring an element of sketchiness though...not as sticky on the big turns.  Gotta watch yourself.  I came up on another chick.  Finally, another rider!!  I spent most of the day alone and never thought I'd see another person till the end.  She was locked up on her brakes the whole way down and I had to pass her.  I worked hard for this and YOU WILL NOT MAKE ME RIDE MY BRAKES!

 

1300ish hours...

Aid station number 3...BOOOYAAAH!  The fine fellas at Sycamore Cycles hooked me up with GU Brew and a few more pb&js.  Amazingly, I ate like a cow during the ride and had hunger pains at this point.  Seriously?  Hunger pains?  I did my thang and got back on the bike.  14 miles to go.  I had this biatch in the bag. 

 

The girl I passed on the big downhill passed me back on the last section of gravel.  I gave the 11% grade the middle finger and got off my bike.  HIKE-A-BIKE in full effect!!  My little friend decided that was a great idea and we had a nice little chat about how miserable we'd been all day.  :)

We decided to keep each other company for the last 12 miles, most of which were downhill or flat.  I was getting excited at this point.  I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was gonna finish this race. 

 

As we came around the corner, I saw blue lights.  Was that it?  Were we at the campground?  I saw the Pisgah Ranger Station and almost started crying.  I looked back and shared the good news with my little friend.  She was stoked too.  Made the turn into the parking lot and thought I was just going to rip through the finish...ooooooh no.  Not in the Pisgah.  I was shocked to see 3 CX barriers between me and the finish.  Everyone was yelling and cowbells were banging...I had to dismount after 70 miles of hell and run my bike through 3 barriers. 

 

So I did.

 

I saw Anet and Mike at the finish and broke down in tears.  I looked at my watch and I had done the race in roughly 7.5 hours.  I beat my goal by 2.5 hours.  I honestly thought it would take me closer to 10 hours to finish...I surprised myself.  I was so happy...so proud...and felt pretty badass.

 

Speaking of ass, can someone pass me the donut pillow?  I'm in agony over here.  :)

 

Next up? Interbike!

 

 

What did I eat today?  Glad you asked...

 

2 honey stinger waffles

1 bonk breaker

1 pack of honey stinger chomps

3 chocolate #9 gels

1 hammer gel

3 small pb&js

2 bananas

5 bottles of water and electrolyte mix

 

Post race:

1 Budweiser (best one and last one ever!)

Burrito

 



Poppin' the enduro racing cherry...or somethin' like that.

If you can't hang with the big dogs, dress like 'em.

So you wanna be an endurance racer, eh?  Well, put on your big girl panties and let's do this thang!

 

I'm sitting here looking at the big pile of stuff on my bed and trying to remember how to take the rear wheel off and put it back on after changing a tube.  I know I'll be changing a tube at some point on Saturday.  You're probably saying to yourself, "Really? You don't know how to do it?"  It's not that I don't, it just takes me MUCH longer than the average bear to do something a shop guy can do in 5 minutes.  Please lord, if I have to get a flat, let it be in the front.

 

Duckman has decided to join his little sister in a day of fun and agony in the Pisgah.  I'm happy he'll be there when I finish...and hope he isn't pissed when he has to wait a couple extra hours :)  Please have the following items ready at the finish line:

1. Beer

2. Burrito

3. Ice pack for my ass

 

If that isn't enough physical punishment, my flight to Vegas leaves from the Tri-Cities the next morning at 8:30.  Talk about torture!  Sore and sleepless...pass the wine, please.  On a positive note, Interbike should be a rad week of fun and learning.  I'm beyond thrilled and grateful for an epic opportunity like this.  Cool stuff doesn't happen to this girl very often...I'm gonna bask in it for a while.

 

I'll give ya a rundown after the race and hopefully have photos of what went down in Vegas...because that crap doesn't actually stay in Vegas.  Whoever came up with that is a liar. ;)

 

 

 



Guts to Glory: How To Train Like an Archer

Surly says: "Yeah bitches, you want some of this?!"

 

Sometimes we get a gut feeling during a race...no, not the GI cramps from your last packet of GU.  More like a hunch that our time is gonna suck.  We no longer care about how fast we are or who's passing us...we just want it to be over.  Yeah.  That's pretty much how my first triathlon went down. 

 

For the past week, I have been making jokes about my lack of training.  Sure, I've been smashing out miles on the bike but lacked the motivation to run and keep up with lap swim.  I figured being a super sprint triathlon, I would just "man up" and suffer it out for an hour or so.  I woke up this morning and realized what I had done...signed up for a potential death march.

 

I woke up at 4am to gather my things, drink some coffee and pray to the triathlon gods.  "Please, just don't let me be last".  That's always my main concern.  Always.  I loaded up the car and headed out a wee bit too early, but better to be early than late, right?  I jammed out to some old school hip hop and car-danced my nerves away.  I was skerrrd.

 

I pulled up to Legion Street and began unloading my gear.  I felt like an idiot.  I imagined the day looking more like a junk show.  I had NEVER EVER practiced a transition.  I hadn't been in the pool since July and my running days have been FEW and far between.  I couldn't imagine doing well...or feeling well.  This is the way of an Archer.

 

It was nice to see the sweet faces of all my friends.  Amazing people and STRONG athletes.  I knew I had to be tough, not only for myself but for them.  I had to show the world I wasn't afraid to come out and risk looking like an untrained idiot...I wanted to show myself what I am capable of.  The highlight of my morning was seeing "Coach Williams" walk up in the bike transition area.  Jamie has always been a solid rock for me no matter what...her support meant the world.

 

Go time.

After taking a few warm up laps in the pool, I lined up with all the other competitors and attempted to look calm.  My heart was in my stomach.  Luckily they had C&C Music Factory's "Everybody Dance Now" blazin' out of the speakers...I couldn't help but dance my nerves away.  Jams.  Megan likes the Jams...even if they are from the early 90s. :)

 

It was my time to jump in..ready set go!  I immediately forgot about being nervous and focused on not drowning.  I know how to swim...just not like an Ironman.  I probably went out a little too hard because I started feeling like shit by 150 meters.  I let a girl pass me because she was right on my toes, only to have her stub up in front of me.  "Seriously?  You're gonna pass me and then slow down?"  I pulled over to her left and swam right next to her...she gave me motivation to paddle harder.  I might have looked like a choppy nightmare, but it got me there.

 

I felt pretty good coming out of the water.  I jogged over to my bike and had a bit of a balance issue.  I fumbled around with my bike shoes and got ready to ride.  I ran out of transition and used my newly obtained "cyclocross mount" to get on and start riding.  I popped a Chocolate #9 and put my legs in "go mode". 

 

Just so you guys know, the course is NOT flat.  I was spittin' mad game about how it was only 380 vertical all morning, only to find out I would be doing some serious work for every one of the 9 miles.  I got passed up on the first climb by some dude on a mtn bike with a camelbak.  I started to catch up to him until I realized he was on a relay team and didn't swim.  "Why am I trying to keep up with a relay team?".  I let him go, even though everything inside of me said "DON'T LET THE MTB'er WITH THE CAMELBAK BEAT YOU ON THIS ROAD RIDE!"

 

I then put the words of Duckman into motion: "Pick someone out in front of you, work your ass off to catch up.  Pass them and then pick out someone else to pass.  Pick them off one by one".  So I did.  I never gave myself much of a break.  On the big descent I got in my drops and geared up to gain some speed.  I don't know how many people I passed, but I remember thinking how I would need the bike advantage for my run.  I needed to pass as many people as I could, because the run would kill me.  I came into the last stretch pretty darn hot and thought I could pull off a CX dismount.  I didn't take into account that my legs would feel like jelly and I almost speed wobbled into a crowd of people.  I'm sure I looked like a sketchy gaper.  Oh well...it was time for the turtle shuffle.

 

I felt great coming into transition...then I started to run.  OUCH.  I immediately felt sore and tired and crampy and bitchy and moany.  I felt like a bag of turds.  I kept telling myself "don't stop" and "this is your dark place".  I knew my lack of training runs would hurt me...and it did.  I finally made it back to the long stretch where I could see cones and hear people.  This is where I shine, no matter how bad I feel.  I kicked it up a bit and as soon as I got to my first orange cone I kicked it up a lot.  I was in my "sprint till ya puke" mode.  I crossed the line...I finished strong!

 

As soon as the nausea and hypoxia wore off, I felt pumped.  I felt like I could do it again...and MUCH BETTER if I actually trained.  Imagine the surprised look on my face when I found out I placed 1st in my age group?!  Yep.  That's the look I had, too.

 

I've been in shock all day about so many things.  Mostly, how strong I've become on the bike.  I'm amazed every day.  I feel a wave of motivation coming over me...it's been a while since I had one.  I'm ready for CX and excited to see what I can get into next tri season.  I also have some 8, 12 and 24 hour mtb races in my sights.  Maybe I'll train a little more for my next race...or maybe not.  I've got Archer blood in me and you know how that goes :)

 

 

 

 

Boys, Beer and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance



Duckman's Bicycle University
"How to change Road Surly to Cross Surly"

 

Liberation.  That's what I'm striving for at this very moment.  I want to be liberated from the boys.  Don't get me wrong, I love my guy friends and have a blast riding with them...I just don't want to depend on them for ANYTHING.  I want to be a tough chick.

 

I started my 3rd job this weekend at Piney Flats Bicycle Shop (insert loud "whoop!" and fist pump here).  I was beyond excited to join a team of wonderful dudes and learn more about my favorite thing ever...bikes.  I never claimed to know much about them, but I really like pedaling, so I figured I could at least bring my bike love to the table.  I took both of my babies in for a tuneup and immediately caught a bunch of ish from the guys.  "When's the last time you cleaned your bike?"  "Do you not maintenance these things?"  "Don't you work at a bike shop?!"  Apparently my sub par cleaning and lack of mechanical knowledge made my bikes look like a dumpster find.  Well, teach me how to do it, dammit!

 

Beep beep!  Here comes the bus and it's taking my ass to school!

 

Duckman happily agreed to start Bike U in our garage last night.  Between EMS and the shop, I have successfully put in 98 hours of work this week.  Last thing I wanted to do was more work but most of my energy goes into my riding and I need to focus on making things function properly.  Soooo, we cracked open some beers and got down to business...

Beer cage?
 

The last time I changed a bike tube was around 2006 when I had my little Cannondale.  I've been lucky thus far and haven't had any serious mechanical troubles since getting the Scott Comp and Surly Crosscheck earlier this year.  My luck is going to change eventually and I'll have to man up and fix my shizzle.  It took me a bit to remember how to do it, but I'm a quick learner and figured it out.  I learned about sticker placement of the tires and traditions that make for good reading on Velominati.com

 

And I now have a CROSS bike.  Magic....

 

Speaking of bikes...

Yesterday was a very, VERY busy day in the bike shop.  I knew things could get crazy on a Saturday but I never realized how much business Piney does when everyone is off work.  I buzzed around the shop like crazy person, trying to make sure everyone was getting what they needed.  Since my knowledge is limited, I had to continuously ask the boys questions throughout the day.  God bless 'em...they were patient and helped me out A LOT.  I enjoyed talking to people who share my love of two wheels and helping some make their very first bike purchase. 

 

A little 60+ year old lady came into the shop with an old bike and a desire to ride.  She said most of the places she called gave her the cold shoulder and commented on how old and crusty her department store bike was.  She commented on how polite and helpful I was both on the phone and in the shop.  Why the heck would I be disrespectful?  This lady only wanted one thing...to ride her bike.  It shouldn't matter if you have a $10,000 carbon racing bike or a $10 garage sale find.  We all have the same goal...to pedal.  What makes me better than her?  Absolutely nothing.  She hadn't been on a bike in nearly 40 years.  I was STOKED for her.

 

Hopefully these fellas will teach me a thing or two about bicycle maintenance and I'll be able to rely on myself more.  This must be how women felt when they were finally given the right to vote.  Liberated and ready to raise hell! 

 

I like boys.  I like beer.  And together, they will teach me the art of bicycle maintenance. ;)

 

I'm thinking "Gee, I hope I can be as awesome as Kit."

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome to Quad Town

 

Reunited and it feels so good! 

 

After working 52 hours in the last 3 days, I got to ride my bike tonight.  Me and my lil Surly girl (Her name is Misty) headed out to Tiny Piney for the Wed Night Ride.  I had never ridden this route before...a bit nervous that I would end up in the back with some poor soul waiting on me.  I was elated to see some of my friends show up for this one...my bike folk make me smile.

 

I contemplated doing the 20 miler, but knew I'd be cheating myself if I didn't go with the 27 mile group...so I sacked up and went for 27.  The group started fairly mellow and eased into a nice, steady pace.  Since I STILL don't have a bike computer, I had no earthly idea how fast we were going.  I just know that I was breathing hard and sweating profusely by mile 5.  It hurt.

 

I managed to hang with the main pack for a while, but slowed as we met our first real climb.  Same shit different day.  I'm so used to getting dropped that I wasn't even phased.  I just put Misty in a big ring and took advantage of the flats, descents and short climbs...those are my strong points.

 

I got pretty excited to be haulin' some major booty right before we turned off towards the river.  Little did I know I would meet my arch nemesis...BIG ASS FALSE FLAT.  A guy I was riding with offered to get in front and pull, but I had NEVER had anyone ride my wheel before.  I was kind of excited to give back for all the times I sucked someone's wheel.  I've never really been anything but last, so I wanted to do some work.  And trust me, my happy ass did some work.  I was DYYYYIIIINNNGGGGG.  I felt vomit chunks rising in my esophagus.  My hips hurt...my quads burned.  My lungs hated me.  I kept going.  The next climb was a total nightmare, but I pedaled anyway.

 

The river was nice and flowy. Big ring.  Fast and fun.  Still not much of a break in sight.  I took another turn in the drivers seat and pulled a couple guys.  They passed me.  Big climb.  Mama was tired.

 

After a few small climbs and some hardcore pedaling to catch up with the guys in front of me, I made it back to the shop.  Success was mine.  I was pretty happy with my ride considering I hadn't been on the bike since Saturday.  More than that, I was stoked to go all out.  Tonight was probably the hardest I've ever ridden.  Welcome to Quad Town.

 

 

My Lonely Bike

My Tennessee paramedic license posted this morning.  Engage penny-pinching

A-hole NOW.  Work has a whole new feeling...the ISH just got realer than real.  Sunday will be my first shift working as a medic...is it a full moon?  I expect the bottom to fall out of the City of Kingsport.  Let's do this thang!

 

On a less sketchy note, I did NOT ride my bike like a boss this week.  I came home from the SORBA camping trip late Sunday night and worked 62 hours in 4 days.  I had BIG plans of riding on my days off, but those plans were thwarted when we spent every second of our Tuesday shift running calls.  No sleep = no bike riding.  Yeah, I know I should have applied rule #5, but I dare you to do my job without sleep for 24 hours and then try to ride a bike.  Let me know how that goes, ok?  Thank goodness for Wed Night Ride...even if it was only 6 miles.  I got to ride with the girlies and move my legs before heading back to work for another 24 hours.

 

Speaking of bikes and girls, I officially took on my 3rd job this afternoon.  I will be ATTEMPTING to fill the very big shoes of Kit and working at Piney Flats Bicycle Shop.  I'm super stoked to be a part of such a good group of guys.  I've always wanted to do something like this...and maybe I'll learn a thing or two about bikes.  I'm also working on getting my bike patrol certification.  I have a ton of free time now that school is over and I intend on making the most of it.  I'll be the only bike patroller going over the handlebars...that, I'm sure of.

 

My body has been overly tired this week and I'm bummed I didn't get on my bike more.  I feel so unprepared for the Barbaritos Triathlon and even more so for Pisgah Monster Cross.  I can't believe race day is almost here and I'm way behind...it depresses me actually.  I know that being an Archer speaks volumes on my determination and drive...but will that be enough to get to the finish line?  My mama was always so good at adapting and overcoming life's bad lemons...and my brother can get on a bike any day of the week and crush it.  Am I made of the same stuff?  Can I do this?  God, I hope so.

 

I know I'm strong and have come so far in both my career and my bike training, but will it be enough when the shit hits the fan?  When someone is dying right in front of me, will I be able to move the knowledge from my head and let it speak through my hands?  When I'm all alone at mile 30, will I be able to tough it out to mile 70?  What happens if I can't get out of my dark place and pedal my bike to the finish?  How will I handle my first death of a child?  I've been put here, in this very place for a reason...and when the time comes, I'll do what needs to be done. 

 

After all...I'm an Archer.

Just cause you feel it, doesn't mean it's there.

The heart is a tricky little monster.  You put so much trust in it.  I mean, come on...it keeps you alive.  It pumps your blood.  It is almost solely responsible for your being.  Why wouldn't we give our heart everything?  Is there any reason to doubt it?  After 32 years of trying to figure out what I want, who I am and where I'm going, the consensus is....I don't have a stinkin' clue.

I'm at a point in my life where I'm constantly questioning my decisions.  Did I make the right ones?  Am I following the path most suited for me?  Am I being true to myself?  Just because I feel it, is it really there?  Am I a good daughter?  Am I a positive female role model for my nephew?  Did I make the right decision about moving back to Tennessee?  The list goes on...and on...and on.  It's overwhelming at times.  I don't want to miss something.  I don't want to be afraid to choose the road less traveled. 

I've lived in various places over the years...and my soul is a mountain soul.  My heart aches for my little Mammoth town...and Boone...and the Rockies...and Asheville.  I melt each and every time I visit these places.  I see old faces and wish things were different.  Just because I feel this, is it really there?

I'm still carrying around a pocket full of part time jobs, in spite of my recent upgrade to paramedic.  I have a bachelors degree in recreation management...a field that I truly love.  My resume is filled with cool jobs, real-life experience and great references.  I'm a hard worker.  I put everything into what I do.  Since obtaining my paramedic license, I've been questioning my decision to put myself through the last 14 months.  Did I choose the right path?  Will I EVER find a full-time job as a medic, with a service that I truly love and stand by?  Will this ever work out?  I have my doubts...but try to stay positive.  There are so many things I want to do, it's hard to pick ONE.

I want the total package.  I want to be able to have my cake AND eat it AND not gain any weight.  I want the job, the man, the dog and the freedom to live my life as I have for the last decade.  I want everything and nothing.  I want my space.  I want to be surrounded.  I want to be a jack of all trades and a master at SOME ;)  I want a room full of snowboards, bikes, climbing gear and...wait...I already have that....well....that's a start.

So, how do I know if I'm where I'm supposed to be?  Will I have doubts and strong feelings no matter which path I choose?  Do I stay here forever or do I fuel my desire to be a free spirit?  Do I take a chance on a new job that may or may not be what I'm made for?  Will I ever be fulfilled?  Not really sure if I will...and not really sure if I'm supposed to be. 

Is my heart playing tricks on me?  I guess some things we'll never know for sure...

Apply Rule #5 and Shut Your Mouth

I went to bed last night with the plan of riding my first metric century this morning.  Come hell or high water, my happy ass was getting on the bike and pedaling until the computer said 62.whatever.  I didn't care what had to happen...mama had a date with her Surly. 

First thing I noticed was clouds...crap.  Next thing I noticed was the happy little text message from my friend Alan, telling me to "be careful" and "rain heading your way".  I didn't care.  Funk dat.  I'm riding a metric century...and the world can kiss my ass today. 

On my way to Lamar School, I pregamed with a little Rage Against the Machine.  By the time I arrived, I was ready to smash some skulls and/or ride my bike.  I put all my crap together and waited for my friend Sean...poor guy agreed to ride with the slowest human on the planet.  Bless it!

And away we went...

I felt pretty good by the time we rolled through Chuckey.  It looked like rain...pretty much from the start...we kept going.  I'm not sure what mile it was when I came to the realization that we were not making it to the car without a fight.  The sky looked pissed.  The wind was howling...of course, we spent 95% of the ride in a headwind.  Here it comes....BIG ASS RAIN DROPS.  I lived in Boone for 4 years and spent a lot of time riding on the parkway in the rain, but this was serious.  The damn sky was falling.  Glasses fogged up.  Water moving across the road.  NO BRAKES.  Freezing.  Water running into my eyes/nose/mouth.  I just laughed.  We were probably 20-30 miles out at this point...nothing to do but pedal and laugh.

The sky eventually had mercy on us and the sun came back out...hot and ready to kick my ass.  By mile 57, I was starting to hurt.  This was my longest ride ever....by 7 miles.  Time to see what my legs had left...for what I THOUGHT would be 5 more miles.

I stood up and punched it for every climb till we got to the car...it hurt so bad.  I just had to know what my legs were capable of at the end of a loooooooooooong ride.  And they worked like magic.  Like freakin' magic.  I just wanted to see the car.  And eat.  And drink a beer.  Or 12.

I saw Lamar School.  I saw the car.  I laughed.  I sighed.  I laughed some more.  I was STOKED to make it through my longest ride ever.  I laughed some more...

In a week's time, I've managed to accomplish more than I ever thought possible.  I passed my practicals, passed my National Registry paramedic exam, signed up for Pisgah Monster Cross, rode 20+ miles on my mountain bike AND pedaled through 67.5 miles on the road...on a 20+ lb steel framed Surly Crosscheck.  Take that bitches. 

When in doubt, apply rule #5 and shut your mouth...



Hurts So Good.

I'm lying in bed. In pain. My ass hurts. My legs hurt. My skin is covered in thorn and stinging nettle scratches. My face hurts from laughing. My tongue hurts from sticking it out like Michael Jordan all day. I have mud on my legs that may never wash off. I'm pretty sure my bruises are forever.

And I'm ecstatic about it.

I got back on the Surly this past Wednesday after a couple days out of the saddle. Hammered my slow booty up to Watauga Dam.  My little riding partners decided not to tell me about this climb until we were on our way...punks!  The climb was LONG and it was HOT.  I was wheezing the entire ascent.  My speed was similar to a snail...almost fell over on some of the steeper sections.  I didn't fall over.  In fact, I made it to the top.  Winning!  The descent was worth every pedal stroke.

I was looking forward to TNR this week, but alas, the rain gods had other plans.  We all knew it wasn't going to happen, but we faithfully showed up with bikes in tow...ultimately aware that we would just end up eating and drinking beer.  My practical exam for my medic was the following day and I wanted to distract myself from my nerves.  Instead of a bike ride I ate beans and cheese...drank a 22oz beer...ate a Chocolate Silk Pie Blizzard from Dairy Queen.  Oh...and made the practical exam my BITCH! 

Friday was quite possibly the most frustrating, exhausting, anxious and nerve wracking moment of my entire existence.  I was a hot mess on the inside, showing nothing more than a red face on the outside.  I cried in the shower.  I cried on my way to the testing site.  I wanted to cry after every single station I completed.  I just kept telling myself to "hold on" and "breathe".  If I had made it this far...I must know what I'm doing.  After I completed my final station, John Dabbs took me out in the hallway and started talking.  I just stared...he kept talking...I stared.  He finally held out his hand and muttered the words I had been waiting to hear...CONGRATULATIONS, YOU PASSED.  I immediately broke down in tears like I was Miss Tennessee in the Miss America pageant.  The stress and anxiety I had felt over the past 14 months just broke...on my face!

Knowing I had to take my written National Registry test on Saturday, I decided to support Kari's Heart Foundation and ride the 28 miler that morning.  It would be a workout and I might shave off some anxiety before the BIG test.  Well, I got what I asked for...it was a beast.  I went out with the goal of pushing it as hard as I could, without dying.  I succeeded and felt amazing.  I felt like ass crack during the ride, but I wasn't last...I made my goal...and I walked away in better shape because of it.

Took my test at 3...spent less than an hour at the testing site.  Drank wine.  I either failed miserably or I nailed it...won't know till tomorrow.  The suspense might kill me in my sleep tonight.  Fo' realz.

Today I took on the task of riding Rocky Fork with some amazing people.  My new friend, Anet, is a MEGA endurobeast and talked me into signing up for Pisgah Monster Cross...which is 70 miles and 10,000+ feet of climbing.  I figured I needed to get started on training...sooooo, we spent 20+ miles and 6+ hours in the saddle.  Climbing.  Climbing.  Climbing.  And climbing.  Her husband is equally as beastly on a bike.  They amaze me.  I suffered like a dog and loved it.  The views were amazing...the company was amazing...the day was...amazing.  Today was proof that I'm moving right along and getting stronger on the bike.  I'm amazed that I could even complete a ride like today...and blessed to be able to.  I'm overwhelmed with my passion for this little metal thing with two wheels.  Both on and off road.  I think I'll keep pedaling...

A letter to you...

Dear Mom,

Today is the day.  For the last 14 months I have been thinking about it.  Remember when you said I could do anything I put my mind to?  Remember when you told me my gritty determination would get my what I wanted some day?  Well, let's see if you were right.  I mean, I've made it this far...I know SOMETHING, right?

I wish you were here to calm my nerves...you were so good at that.  I had a dream about you last night...it was nice to see you.  Could you do me a favor and show your presence in the room today while I'm testing?  I'd appreciate that. 

I promise that I'll treat people the way I watched them treat you when you were sick.  That's what keeps my head on straight at 3am when I've been running calls all night...when I'm jaded...when I'm fed up with the BS calls.  I get that one really sick person and I think of you...and it makes all this worth it.  I hope and pray that I can be a paramedic you'd be proud of.

This is it.  Probably the biggest thing I've ever done in my life.  I'd give anything for you to see it.  Wish me luck.

Love,
Megan

What doesn't kill you...makes you bleed.

Beer.  The best bandaid a girl can get.

People are always using that lame-O line, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger".  We just assume "they" are correct...but is there any truth to it?  I'm torn.

I had one of my scariest mountain bike crashes yesterday on Bays Mountain.  I wasn't going particularly fast, but it was rutty and loose...and I chose a craptastic line.  I saw myself heading straight for a tree.  I tried to turn out of it, but my wheel caught sideways and launched me over the handlebars, feet still clipped in, right off the embankment.  Luckily I'm somewhat of a "tree hugger", because that's what saved me from going off the side of the trail.  My ankle got caught between the bike and the tree...and it hurt.

I quickly got up after a few choice words and a John McEnroe-like reaction.  I knew if I stayed on the ground I would cry...and girls don't cry in front of a bunch of boys. :)

Getting back to the car was a combination of painful movements and a more timid attitude.  I was scared.  I don't like being scared.  When all the guys were up ahead of me, I let the tears fall.  I was in pain and I scared the beejesus out of myself.

Riding down the fire road, I began to think about my last few relationships and how they compared to my mountain bike rides.  I've taken a few hard diggers lately.  Kinda makes me afraid to get back up and on the bike at times.  I have a blast on my bike...riding with friends...in the woods.  The feeling I get flowing through the trees is amazing.  I don't so much enjoy the climbing, but I know that's part of it (and it makes the descent worth more). 

I've taken a few hard diggers in the relationship department over the last couple of years.  Makes me afraid to get back up and continue on the journey.  I've experienced some of the most amazing moments of my life in the company of others.  I've also experienced some of the most heart wrenching moments in the company of those same individuals.  Did it make me strong? 

I figure if I can get up, brush myself off and keep moving after some of the disastrous relationships I've been in, I can keep riding my bike.  Believe it or not, a broken arm heals faster than a broken heart.  I'm still not sure if those experiences have made me stronger or more cynical...we'll see.  The unfortunate difference between the heart and the bike is...you don't get to choose which trail your heart takes.  Just hold on for your life!

So, would I rather have a broken ankle or a broken heart?  Hand me the crutches....

Finding my niche...

My biggest struggle since moving back to Tennessee has been finding my place...my niche.  For a decade, I've been the little snowboarder girl, ski patroller, snow bunny chick...making my way through life one journey at a time.  My mama used to call me a free spirit.  I got an idea in my head and went for it.  I frolicked through various schools, majors and periods of homelessness, trying to find my way.  I never knew where I'd end up next.  I wanted to do it all.  I wanted to have it all.  I wanted to experience life to the fullest.

With that being said, I always knew where I fit.  Fast forward to my early 30s...moved back to my hometown.  Things were much different.  Everyone is married.  Everyone has kids.  Everyone is settled.  Everyone has a real, full-time job.  Everyone has different priorities.  Everyone but me.  Soooo, where do I fit?  I'm too old to be the odd girl out. 

Slowly I realized that I'm NOT the odd girl out.  I'm actually very blessed to be in the position that I'm in.  I've watched too many relationships go up in flames.  I've seen too many homes broken up in haste.  I've been told I'm living the dream...and not as a sarcastic figure of speech kind-of-way. 

I spent so much of my 20s focused on finding "the guy" and starting a family and this and that and blah blah blah.  While there is NO DOUBT in my mind that having a family is the cat's meow, I also realize that everything has to be in it's right place.  And yes, I meant that as a bitchin' Radiohead reference.  It took me years to realize I have an amazing life...just the way I am.

So I don't have kids...and I don't have a husband.  Hell, I haven't even had a date in almost a year...but my life is good.  I am fulfilled.  I am content as I can be with what I have.  I'm doing what I want to do and loving it...most of the time.  It took me years of suffering and searching for what I THOUGHT was supposed to make me happy.  Happiness is how you perceive the world...not something obtained from possessions and people.  Misery is a choice. 

I've learned you can't put a time limit on lifetime milstones...it's out of our hands.  If I'm meant to be on my bike with a house full of dogs till my dying day, so be it.  If I'm meant to have 3,999 children (and I hope I'm not) before I die, so be it.  No matter what this life gives me, I must adapt and overcome.  I refuse to be a passenger...I'm drivin' this bus.  So, get out of my way before I run over you. ;)

Today...50 miles. Tomorrow...the world!

Today I reached my first big cycling milestone.  I rode 50 miles.  Doesn't sound like a whole lot, but it most definitely is.  It took me just under 4 hours to complete.  I was pretty happy with the day...didn't feel overly tired and had great company.  Greene County is beautiful from the seat of my little Surly girl!

I can feel the strength morphing into endurance.  I've always had hella strong legs, but capturing that strength and using it to my cycling advantage has been difficult.  Today I felt strong.  Don't get me wrong, climbing the steeps was still a bitch, but I could feel the progress.  I know there is no possible way I could have made the climbs I did today, two months ago.  I high fived myself.

In the recent weeks, I have made a huge connection with my two-wheeled machines.  It's quite hard to explain my obsession, but those of you with the same addiction can relate.  Even when I'm getting dropped, sucking wind and close to crying, I am happy.  I love seeing what my body can do.  There's no better way to see the little nooks and crannies of my home.  I never knew such gorgeous places existed right in front of my face.  It ALMOST fills the void I still have in my heart for California and the Eastern Sierras.....A.L.M.O.S.T. 

There was a point in the ride today where I was overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment.  I just finished medic school (testing next week, YIKES!) and things are starting to fall into place.  I never imagined upon moving back to East Tennessee that I would be this happy...but I am.  The bike just makes it better.  I was in a terrible head space for a year...and I've overcome it all. 

I feel strong today.  Mind and body.  I am embracing it for as long as it lets me, for I know it's not always like this.  Tomorrow is another day...

Why settle??

We're constantly seeking out those things that make us happy.  We see things that "catch our eye" and we begin to want.  We want a lot.  We expect a lot.  We strive for our wants...sometimes much more than our needs.  If we spend so much time trying to achieve our happy homeostasis, then why, OH WHY do we settle for less than what we want??

I spent a great deal of my work day contemplating this very question.  Why settle?  I have watched handfuls of friends struggle with situations that are not compatible with the core of their being.  I am not without fault...I've settled for a lot of things in my past that LUCKILY molded me into the raging cougar you see before you ;)  I made a crapload of mistakes in my time...and learned from every single one.  I now know...I will not settle.

I know women who settle for douche bags that emotionally and/or physically abuse them.  I know men who settle for women who don't give respect when respect is due.  I watch my friends get cheated on and pretend that everything is ok.  I watch people give up their athletic endeavors because they say "I can't".  I watch people go to work every morning to a job they hate.  I see people get married for all the wrong reasons.  I see people stay married for all the wrong reasons.  I watch people get divorced for all the wrong reasons.  Why settle?

My job puts me in situations where I have no choice but to see the true bitch and beauty of this life.  I've seen people take their last breath, given the gift of life and brought back from near death.  I never actually realized how little time we get on this earth till my mother passed away.  It makes me strive to achieve my personal goals and keep my standard high.  It keeps me on task and helps me to be a better human.  We all want to be better humans, right? 

We all spend so much time focused on the future, we forget to live now.  We fail to enjoy what stands right in front of us.  We find it easier and less confrontational if we settle for something less than what we deserve.  Why?  Because it's easier.  Well guess what?  You want to lose weight?  Get off the couch.  You want a better relationship?  Go find one.  You suck at riding your bike?  Ride it more.  You hate your job?  Quit.  It's actually very simple.  Don't lower your standards.  Don't choose to do something you'd rather not because it's the easy way out.  HTFU and chase your dreams.  No one said this life was easy...and it's most definitely not.

Create your own destiny...don't suffocate in someone else's.  Life is all what you make it...so make it good.

It's not about the bike....but it is.

Well, it's been a while.  I pretty much fell off the face of the planet (and this blog) once I completed my first half marathon.  In my defense, I had a looooong summer ahead of me with paramedic school and clinicals...and I survived! 

I think I can count the number of runs I've had since the half on one hand.  Aside from not having the time, I lost the drive.  Nothing sucks more than losing your drive.  I didn't care.  To be honest, I still don't miss running all that much.  Luckily, I found something I like more...the bike.

I've  been riding the Surly that my brother built me for CX season.  I tried to rekindle my road bike spirits from my Boone days...they didn't answer.  Sooo, I had to start from scratch.  Not only did my fitness take a blow over the summer, but my mental state was in the crapper as well.  I sucked on the bike and my brain sucked me in.  I've been riding pretty consistently for about a month...and getting stronger.  It's hard work, but it beats the hell out of running and irritated IT bands.

Not only have I been riding the Surly, but I've been hitting the woods pretty hard on my mountain bike.  I'm motivated to get back into the best shape of my life and kick some ass while doing it.  I'm a pretty slow climber and I usually fall to the back of the group, but I don't stop trying (even if I want to).  I now remember why I bought that downhill bike...I LOVE TO GO DOWNHILL! 

I'm committed to being strong for cross and even more committed to stay out of my head.  The more miles I put on the bike, the stronger I'll become.  There will come a day when I have to wait on someone at the top of Buffalo...and I will wait...because I've been there.  There will come a day when I have to go back for someone on the trail...and I will go...because I've been there. 

Since I didn't get to compete in the Warriors triathlon, I signed up for the Barbaritos sprint triathlon in September.  I guess this means I have to put my running shoes back on?  What doesn't kill you makes your stronger...

It's not about the bike, but it totally is.