Writing over riding

The signs are clear: it has been Tour time. Had some people over to watch a stage on our living room jumbo tron. Lots of food. Lots of fun. Thanks to Al for the swell bottle of Red Bicyclette wine.Tres thoughtful. Thanks, too, for the snazzy photos:

Just in case you forgot the occasion...The boy and Kaos focus on Al, while Kristin studies the intricacies of stage 17. Or perhaps a close up of Cancellara's fabulous posterior? Hmmmmm....he's an excellent bi'rider.

Over-writing riding? I dunno. I've been busy trying to cover the Tour from my living room. Crazy. I feel like I'm writing about cycling more than riding. Or just plain old watching.

I did manage to get a lovely ride in with friends and family on Sunday. We loaded up the Jetta and went to Fair Hill where we met Damien, his Dad Vince, Frankie, Elizabeth, Jill, Treasa, Colleen, and Kathleen for some wickedly fun single track.

I flatted twice because I'm a dork. Details are unnecessary. Suffice to say, I need a team car following me at all times. OK, a team dirt bike for single track.

The boy led the group on one of the trails in South Park while Gus and I remained in the back of the line. So proud of the little devil. He fares much better when mom and dad are absent.

When we returned to the Gallaher Parking lot, a crazed couple nearly ran us over. I think they were aliens. Hard to tell with these Delaware types. The male looked especially dangerous. And large. We had a nice visit.

Word to the wise: never eat at the Newark Burger King. My rule of thumb is never eat at Burger King period, but dropping blood sugar calls for desperate measures.

Fearless leader Damien led us around in grand style, and didn't make fun of me for flatting twice. He's a great guy, I don't care what anyone says! The boy after leading us around South Park. He's my hero.
The boy spotted a toad and Frankie felt compelled to pick it up. Ewe. Not like a sheep, but as in gross.
Vince, Colleen, and Treasa are ready. Let's go have some fun!

Lions and tigers and Bear Creek--oh my!

Ok, there weren't any lions and tigers. Nikki and I went to Bear Creek on what had to be the hottest day of the summer thus far. I was producing seriously un-ladylike amounts of sweat. Yuck.

Boy, is that place rocky. We followed some obnoxious red trail halfway up the mountain until finding a much more amenable yellow trail. I hope the race doesn't cross the red trail because there will be sport class carnage all over the place.

Nikki brought gummy bears and I ate the last one. That's the kind of friend I am. Look out.

I got to try out my new EZ Pass which was not so easy thank you very much. I didn't get it out of the glove compartment in time so it didn't register. Oops. Now I know. Apologies to the car behind me.

I can't believe summer is half over. I haven't checked one thing off my "to do" list. Too bad "ride bike" doesn't count.

He's Baaaaack

Well, at least he didn't fall off the Pipeline this time. It's never a good sign when the Course Marshall launches off the trail into a tree.

Welcome back, honey. I'm so happy you're back on the bike. Now the trick is to stay on it.

xoxo,

me

A picture paints 1,000 words

Erik snapped this photo of us girls on the monthly Dirty Girl Ride. Dreamy. I don't think the one I took of the boys turned out as well. I'm digitally impaired. Great day. Great fun. Fair Hill tomorrow.

Michael Jackson

I'm a little miffed because the Philadelphia Examiner articles on Michael Jackson are getting more hits than my pithy little piece on today's Tour Stage. Or should I say more hits than Jackson had on little kids?

Too soon?

I enjoyed a lovely ride in the Wiss today with Frankie and Jess, both of whom were saddened by the pop singer's loss. I admitted I didn't get it and held my tongue. Shut up, I can keep quiet sometimes.This Jackson thing reminds me of the great Red State / Blue state divide which I wouldn't even notice if the media hadn't invented it. lt was interesting hearing Frankie and Jess's opinions on Jackson and his importance in the grand scheme of things. I respect what they had to say, and feel a little bit better about the collective madness.

Why can't we all just get along?

The way I see it, there are several camps:

1) MJ is God
2) MJ invented the 80's
3) MJ is an alien (he is a Jehovah's Witness. Fucker's lucky he never knocked on my door).
4) MJ is a sad, twisted talented individual who suffered at the hands of an abusive father, corrupt record industry, bizarre religion, and who knows what other psyho-sexual impairments.

Tito, get me a tissue.

I have a few questions:

Who lets their kid have a sleepover with a grown man?
Who watches a friend with millions of dollars fall into a drug-induced stupor over time rather than sending him to rehab?
Am I the only person on the planet who did not own Thriller?
How is California going to pay for the funeral?

OK, that's all. RIP.

"Who's the Junior racer now?"

Jimmy Rock asks this of Cavendish after Columbia gets bitch slapped in the Team Time Trial. Well done, son. You have a future in broadcasting. Or at least being an armchair Directeur Sportif.

In fairness, I suppose that Columbia had some tired legs after dragging the peloton around for the last few stages. Or perhaps the drugs weren't working today. In any event, Cav might think twice before shooting his mouth off in the future because (apologies here to Chrissie Hynde) Astana sure showed him what that hole was for.
Photo appropriated fromGraham Watson. and Velonews.

21st Century Girl

Sitting here with aptly named laptop on lap watching the expanded Tour coverage on my giant HD TV. Forty-four inches of high def ass. That's right.

Ooh, going through the feed zone. It must be nice to have someone standing on the side of the road with snacks to hand you. Much better than stopping at the Kiki Mart for a Gatorade refill. Must be nice to be able to pee al fresco without getting arrested, too.

Nice castle.

I had a nice day on 2 different bikes today. First, with Kristin Gavin's Gearing Up program. Nikki was there today and we had a ball riding around Mt Airy with the Interim House ladies. One gal nearly bit it at the intersection of Carpenter and Lincoln Drive. She learned the "don't just use one brake" lesson. I remember learning that one. Fortunately, she was fine, but what a "holy shit" moment.

Green Oakleys? So pro, Cavendish. I want those drugs.

After cruising around on the Redline 925 with the ladies, I switched to the Tarmac and met Nikki for hill repeats. My cassette was having a fit which Nikki accurately diagnosed as a loose cassette. Thanks, Dr. T!

How cute is Fabian Cancellara? I still remember when he won the prologue TT in '04 and cried on the podium. So cute. Check out the Roman stadium! It's even older than I am.

Nikki flies up hills like nobody's business. It's been fun watching her and Kristin emerge as such strong cyclists. They remind my of one of my heroes, Diane Grim--they'll rip your legs off while giving you the shirt off their backs. So pro. So nice.

I can't believe I went to college with Craig Hummer. He's sitting with Phil, Bob, and Paul, and I am sitting here. Come to think of it, I've got the better deal. Much more relaxing to watch the Tour in one's living room.

So excited for tomorrow's team time trial.

Nikki paid me a tremendous compliment today which I will tuck away in the memory banks and withdraw when necessary. Thanks, Nikki. You're awesome!

Mountain bike ride Wednesday morning with Francine. Summer fucking rocks.

Taking the boy to Fair Hill for some racing this weekend. Hope he can make it through without a flat or mechanical this time.

What the hell is "Natural Male Enhancement?" Why is "smiling Bob" so creepy? Do men really fall for this? Results may vary indeed.

Oh wow, another Lance story. Really? I don't think there've been enough. Yawn.

Is there anything prettier than an aerial view of the peloton? There like tropical birds all bunched together.

Am I the only person rooting for Kloden? If someone from that awful Astana team is going to win, I hope it's him.

OK, back to the 20th century and a single medium. Over and out.

Showing off versus shown up

Or, better yet, I am Queen of the Douches. You may address me henceforth as "Your majesty."

I rode with Gus yesterday and did not want to be shown up by Mr. "I-parked-my-bike-in-the-basement-and-now-I-play-golf" who was out for his 2nd ride of the last 3 years. So, I am careening down the trail feeling quite pleased with myself and suddenly I am flying through the air in reckless abandon.

Shit.

I have no idea what happened. Apparently, I had hit a rock or something but didn't realize it. The result was that I am somersaulting down the trail and my front wheel is totally tacoed. Dork. Me, not the wheel.

Why am I so competitive everywhere except in races? Why could I have not simply slowed down a bit and risked getting passed? I'll tell you why.

Because I am the Queen of the Douches.

PS A special thanks to Frankie 9 Bikes for lending me a wheel. I promise not to kill it.