don't go to the gun range with a rack and a v-neck

how's the training goin, yas? i don't know. ask my couch. it'll then ask my ass, which has been glued to it for the past week. i got some sort of sickness--i don't know if it was a bug or the wrath of gawd, but it had me laid up for 1.5 weeks: exhausted, sore throat, burning ears, sweating, sleeping, pale, dehydrated, vicks-vapor-rub-wearing, and over-juiced and over-tea-and-honeyed. i did work--but from home, in my nautica men's flannel lounge pant from costco (get some!), and it took mad focus. i did not ride. i ain't gonna lie: i didn't want to. walking up a flight of 30 steps winded me to the point i needed to take a rest.

but i'm back-ish today. got on the spin bike and worked it out in an unstructured way. now i'm eating ravioli in my bike socks. i've got 1 month until the ride, and i'm nervous a bit. i know i can do it, i just wanted to do it well, and i'm feeling like maybe, yeah, i undid all the training i have done with this bout with mucus and mortality.

if you were wondering why i wasn't posting, then there you go...
oh, and i've billed over 100 hours this month already. so there's that too.

so, don't go to the gun range with a rack and a v-neck.
cause if you're shooting a hand gun, and you're arms are below your hands, then you're creating some intense cleavage. and when the dude next to you who's running through 4 mags a minute with one gloved-handed short-range drills and his shells fly all over the place, one could land smack between your sisters and stick to your skin ('cause it's hot for crissakes) and leave a scar that looks like a sweet arc when you're arms are at your side, but more like the clear circumference of a fucking .45 caliber bullet when you squeeze your boobs together.

yeah.

Hear the Sirens Call Me Home

Week Who Knows: Training

Monday 9/29
for a variety of reasons--some may say "a confluence of events," yet other "a conflagration of events"--i ended up taking last week pretty much off. i just couldn't recover from my long ride. so today's the first day back on. just a 1 hour tune up ride with some stretching, folks.

Tuesday 9/30
helluv a way to close out the month. rode Mt. Diablo with coach K for the first time ever! this is ridic because i went to high school at the base of this fly ride. spent a good ol' chunk of time cranking my way up there. and the descent was over in about 10 mins.

Wednesday 10/1
pay your rent!
1 hour recovery chill ride--and a super cool donation from one of my closest friends in middle school! thank you for showing me time- and coast-spanning love, olivia!

uhhhhhm

my cat looch is sitting at attention on the floor in front of the living room tv watching dr. phil with ears up and on.

like, intently watching dr. phil.
he moveth not.

I Know There Some Soldiers in Here

FUNDRAISING UPDATE:
About a week ago, i was $160 shy of my fundraising minimum. So i sent out a lil' note to 16 friends asking them to give up a beer + a good tip and donate just $10 to me. But, b/c my friends have my back in wicked awesome ways, i'm comfortably over my minimum. And it all happened around meena's third fuck-cancer-versary. so, BIG UPS to: warren braden peter erica adrian meghan & steveH

Thanks to these fine folks, I've now raised $2275!
and lost $225
[JSYK: you inspired me. mom came home from berkeley bowl yesterday saying an East Bay Runner was tabling outside the store trying to make her minimum, and she was $1000 short. So I donated a quarter of it to her. Don't know her. She don't know me.]

what this means for the rest of you:
you don't gotsta donate no more. not for this event. don't feel left out. as soon as i'm done with Solvang's Finest, I'll be doing the regular Solvang Century: you can give then.

TRAINING UPDATE:
whoa. last week was not good. i had a kick-ass ride at Pt. Reyes last saturday--rode strong, i thought. felt good. but then non-training issues interceded and i couldn't quite recover. so i had two weaksauce workouts and a whole lotta time off. i'm back on today, with only 1.5 months to go until event day. i got this.

OH AND:
i got a cool new bronze colored fluffy faux hawk.
it ain't no wig either.
you can ask about me.

Fuck Cancer--Year Three and Counting

BEFORE

Monday September 15th was my sister's 3rd anniversary of being cancer free. Yeah! There's no other way to say it (so, block your ears if you have to, but...) FUCK CANCER. it's bullshit, son. The orange you see here, well that's meena's tumor eating radioactive sugar. We named it Sanchito and sang to it: "Tell Sanchito that if he knows what is good for him, he best go run and hide. Daddy's [a.k.a. Chemo R-CHOP cocktail] got a new .45. And i won't think twice to stick that barrel straight down Sancho's throat; believe me when i say that i got something for his punk ass."

AFTER

Yeah, all that blank space that's the way your chest cavity should look: cancer free n'stuff.

***Saturday, September 20, 2008--Team rides 40 miles at Pt. Reyes and dedicates the ride to Meena Eyebrow Raouf***

you'll never guess what happened

Press Alert

In honor of Lance Armstrong's recent announcement that he's un-retiring and going for the Tour in '09, I'm announcing that I will remain unretired from recreational, fundraising cycling and that Solvang '09 is the intention.


Other Pressing Local Public Announcements:

1. if you ask me once and i say "no," i meant it. badgering does not manifest as a sign of perseverance or devotion with me, ok? rather, it suggests strongly that you don't respect me and think you're powerful enough to mold my mind. this makes me dislike you in an irrevocable and serious manner. word? word.

I Think I Broke My Nose

SATURDAY
team rolled out of the Orinda BART station to do the Three Bears (clockwise). so, for those of you who don't know, the bears are three climbs, and the first is actually more of a beeyotch. 'spesh when it's about 100 degrees out. yessir, even though we rolled out early, we were baking the entire time. when i got to the top of papa and stopped at our SAG stop, i was suddenly feeling nauseous in a way that signaled immediate grossness. i was focusing on keeping myself to myself when coach jamie reminded me to dump some water on myself. that's what i gotta do, but it's been a while since i learned this lesson on my first century. i gotta pre-emptively dump bottles of water over my head and down my back. even though my peeps are arguably from the desert, i can't hack the heat. i think it's 'cause i'm naturally hot, so when the sun starts contributing, i suffer more than homlier riders. ha. whatever. so my ride style is flashdancy. whatcha g'on do about it?

SUNDAY
um, so there was this moment when i was getting something out of a kitchen cabinet--you know, the ones above the counter--when i was thinking about some stuff i was sad about and wheeled right into the open door and slammed the hell out of the bridge of my nose. i spent some of the VMA's with a bag of frozen peas on my face. i thought it was mostly lame until my face hurt all monday. and the bruise on my face looks vaguely zit-ish. and i don't have cool back story like having gotten into a fight with anything other than my kitchen.


MONDAY
70 minutes of tempo intervals, peaches!