Team 7-Eleven Book Talk on 2/23/2012

Bicycle Outfitter, Los Altos, CA, 2/23/2012 @ 7 p.m. I'd been looking forward to this talk/book signing for weeks. Ever since my friend from church invited me. A chance to hear Davis Phinney talk about the good old days. I'd heard he was funny, poignant. I couldn't wait!

Then work got busy. Out-of-control busy. The night fast approached, and my workload increased. I freaked. In the back of my mind, I hoped I could make it, but reality told me that it wasn't going to happen. Just too much to do, with impending deadlines, and running out of time.

Fortunately, Gary sent me an email Thursday afternoon. Was I still coming? Oh man. "Things aren't looking good. I will try to make it, but probably not.". Fortunately, he wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

I grabbed everything on my desk, packed it up, stopped at the pharmacy on the way home, ate dinner, took the dog out and went to the event for awhile. I figured I could leave early and work from home when I was done.

Once there, I didn't want to leave! There was a short video about the team. Racing. Commentary. Video of Jim Ochowicz with a mustache. Phil Liggett with hair!!! (I know!) Stories of how 7-11 made it to Europe. How they were blamed for the crashes. How they would arrive minutes before the start of the race (oh, how I know how that feels... ugh!). Davis was apparently in rare form and was so damned funny! The entire room was cracking up and the laughter was contagious. Davis told us a story (one of MANY) about an Italian race where he got dropped with another few guys. He was left with a backpack of his stuff and had to find a way to the finish. He was with a Belgian, who opted to ride to the finish (as annunciated by Davis in a Belgian accent, "I'll ride to the feenish"), but he tried to find another way with the few stragglers left with him. They found a "freeway", but weren't allowed on it due to the toll road. So Davis asked permission to look at the traffic coming the other way (after waiting for quite some time), and to his horror, after all the time it took to arrive at the road, the team cars were screaming back to the town they were all staying in! They were stranded. Luckily, someone saw him, or the toll booth operator reported a crazy American at the toll booth, and a team car came back to retrieve him. One guy left with him, begged for a ride back to the town they were staying in!

Of course, Davis told the story about a thousand times funnier than I can relate, and the room was in tears from all of the laughter. Quite the amusing story.

He also told a really great story about Bob Roll, who has always gotten on my last good nerve. The story changed my perception of Mr. Roll, 100%. Bob had learned perfect Italian much faster than the rest of the team, and in a cafe, some Italians were fascinated with the Americans. They kept asking Bob who was the leader of the team, or the captain. Bob's response: "We're all the team leaders." I rescind most every disparaging thing I've thought about Bob. Except the hand gestures. Those still get on my nerves. :)

I hated so much to leave. But I had to work at home. HAD TO. I bought a book, and left it with my friend to get signed. And then I went home and worked till 10:30.

This was a night I wont' soon forget. Very, very entertaining. Thankfully, I stepped away from the work and deadline madness to attend this talk. Totally worth it. If they come to your town to sell the book and do this talk? GO. Don't hesitate. You won't regret it. You'll laugh yourself silly and walk away with a renewed passion for the sport, and a massive appreciation for what those guys went through all those years ago. Paving the way for the newer Americans in the Grand Tours.

Bravo!

Update on the Weight Loss Challenge

Wow, I sort of let this slide. Made it through Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, without going apesh*t with food. The weight was coming off so well that I had to re-shuffle the goals and stretch goals. By the end of the year, I'd eclipsed my original goal and was approaching my stretch goal.

I did something unheard of. On New Year's Day, with my new, lighter butt, I opted to race the San Bruno Hill Climb. I know. I'm not a climber. But the forecast was unbelievable. Chilly, but dry and sunny. On New Years? That race has been held in rain, fog, freezing temps... I got shelled at the start, but I had to climb on my own terms. I'd never even climbed San Bruno, so I had no clue what lay ahead. I let the group go, and climbed alone. I ended up with some pretty stellar power numbers, which felt really good! Of course, climbing isn't magically easier with less poundage - I just go faster.

So unfair.

Here it is the end of February. And I keep dropping weight, which is now kind of freaking me out. I haven't weighed what I do right now in 12 years. Since my last bodybuilding contest. My old skinny jeans are so effing big, it's just not even funny. I bought a new pair of jeans in late October, and they're even kind of big. I have 3 more pair of skinny jeans that still fit, but dammit. Now my underwear are getting big. This is getting expensive.

In any case, it's been a really great experience. I've learned that food is a crutch. A crutch that a lot of people struggle with. I've been one of those people for most of my life. I pray that I can maintain that switch I have in my head: that switch where I can just view food as sustenance. Really, that's all it is. We attach a lot of significance to food, meals, eating. And a lot of people have health issues, weight problems, eating disorders. At the end of the day, we need calories to survive. Food, in its simplest form is just calories. I like my calories to taste good, but I've learned to listen to my body these past 5 months. I eat when I'm hungry. I try to stop when I'm full. I stopped eating crap. No junk. I have an occasional cookie. Today I ate 3 Girl Scout Thin Mints. But they didn't taste as good as they used to. A side-effect of stopping the junk intake. But I feel great. Really great. My body feels clean, healthy, and light. :) For the first time in 12 years...

I think I'll stay here for awhile. A LONG while.

The weight loss challenge is ON!

Every year for the past 4 or 5 years, my friend MaryEllen and I embark on a weight-loss program. Always begins at the official end of road season, the glorious "off season". Last year, we started it a bit early, as I had surgery and wanted to start the week of the surgery, due to the sheer volume of snack food that was available to me at work. I needed 2 weeks away from all of that crap before I could really resist it. That worked. It only took 1 week of longing, sideways glances before I was able to steer clear, and continue down the road to a lighter body.

Well, the challenge takes us into the holidays (accck), and into the new year, when racing begins all over again. Both of us reached reasonable losses, but neither achieved the lauded: GOAL WEIGHT.

Here we are in October. Both of us are at the same weight as January. Yeah, generally good not to gain it all back again, but this is the dreaded plateau. Ugh. For nearly 10 months, maintaining has been pretty easy. The first 3 weeks were fine. But I didn't drop a single pound. ME fluctuated a bit, but was generally heading in the right direction. My body is stubborn. Really stubborn. I actually gained a pound one week (sh*t), but quickly got rid of it again... What to do now? I had to employ serious tactics in order to start dropping weight:

• Restrict ANY and ALL junk (stopped eating any candy,chocolate and/or chips)
• Learn how to go hungry without getting into that weird "I'm so hungry I could eat my shoe" place... That's a fine line - trust me.
  
• Employ drastic measures: my brain

Back when I was bodybuilding, the diet was the worst part for me. The WORST. I could lift weights, run, do whatever for however long, but when it came to dropping the necessary body fat needed to compete? Just shoot me. I remember being at shows, and someone would step out into the harsh lights, and the first thing that came to mind: "Damn. He/she should have dieted for another 8 weeks...". I never wanted anyone to say that about me! You're standing on stage, wearing 4 teensey triangles of fabric, under the harshest lights EVER (makes dressing rooms look weak, in comparison), and the last thing you want is for someone to see that Snickers bar you scarfed down a few weeks ago, planted firmly on your butt cheek. Sounds harsh, but it was a tough sport. Nobody cared what you looked like 6 months ago, how far you'd progressed, it only mattered what you looked like, for those 5 minutes (or so) you were standing on stage in a bikini. Nothing else mattered. You had to have a really thick skin... Totally unhealthy, for sure, and I blame that lifestyle for making it so darned hard for me to drop any weight now that I have a normal, healthy diet, but it was necessary to be that way for the sport. Of course, I had no butt back then, and was utterly unable to sit at the bus stop the last month or so before a contest, because any fat stores were just gone. Pfft. Just like that. But my brain was the most effective tool in my arsenal for dropping weight back then.

I'm using it once again. Much like the fear of being seen naked, the fear of "if I put this in my mouth, where will it end up on my body?" and "do I really NEED that? Or am I just wanting to eat something?"... Hey, it works for me. The weight is coming off now, FINALLY! All it takes for me is that first pound to be lost, then I'm on a roll... I won't eat the roll, but I'm on one. :o) And this time, I'm going for that elusive: super-stretch goal. I'm just 2 pounds from my goal as I write this, and it will be 4 to that weight which I've not weighed in over 10 years. When I get there, the first thing I want to go do is climb some big hill on my bike. Then I'll probably have to buy some new jeans, because even the skinny jeans are starting to be less and less snug...

Even using a scale, jeans are the better indicator of weight loss. They either fit, or they don't. No getting around it! I may have to go buy a new pair or two sooner than the holidays... Now that's an awesome dilemma!

Why I dont' like riding with non-racers

Okay. Not really non-racers. Mostly encompassing anyone who doesn't have a clue as to how to ride in a pack. I don't give a crap how SMART you are, if you don't know group etiquette, you are not someone I wish to ride with.

The first day of my new job, my boss introduces me to the group. They find out I ride, and I immediately get invited to a fund-raising ride on 10/1. "Sure, I'm in" I say. "But it's 50 miles", I'm told. "Yeah, so. That's fine." They had no idea...

As the weeks progress towards the goal, I'm continually talked to by the ring leader about how many centuries and double-centuries he's ridden. And I'm a bit nervous. It's only 50 miles, but he's talking 18-mph averages and I haven't raced since June. I'm way prone to leg cramps, so I'm thinking, "how can I keep up without cramping?" I settled on drinking a ton of water to stave off the cramps.

I get up a bit late on the morning of the ride. I'm tired from working for a living! 7 months of not working has totally ruined me for getting up and being someplace every day, and being PRODUCTIVE. I proceed to hurry to shower, eat, have a crapload of coffee and find the start of the ride. I estimate I'm leaving the house 20 min late. ACCCCCKKKKKKKK.

I arrive 15 min late. UGH!! I can get ready FAST, so I jam on my knee warmers, grab food, pump my tires, helmet and shoes on, set everything and am on my way to the start like 6 min later.... I saw one guy when I got there, so I head to reg, get my number and find the group. I only find 3 of the 7 others.

We head out on the ride, which is mostly uneventful. But I get the sense that 2 of the 4 of us aren't *that* used to riding in a group. We finally re-group at the last rest stop, and head out for the final few miles.

Then as we're crossing Monterey Highway, one guy gets a flat. So I go back. It takes him a LONG time to change that effing flat. I start giggling and say, "How many engineers does it take to change a flat?" because it was funny, but it was apparent that he was 'done for the day'. DONE. He gets it fixed, and starts to mount the bike, leaving the tube lying on the side of the road!!! LITTERBUG!!! I pick it up and hand it to him, and say, "You gotta take this along to toss it." I'm sure he hates me.

Off we go. I don't want the one guy to be last all day, so I let him go in front and give him a bit of room, based on his previous bad bike-handling skills. Apparently, one man had left his seat bag open, and stuff was starting to fall out. I noticed a tire lever on the side of the road, and when I looked up, the one guy was DEAD STOPPED, directly in front of me. UGH! I slammed on the brakes, managed to avoid slamming into his rear wheel with my front, but the back end of my bike came up and I endo'd. Fortunately for me, he had a saddle bag attached to his pannier rack over the rear wheel, which had his jacket in it, because I FACE PLANTED on that bag, and then continued my slow-speed endo, ending up on the ground, bike still firmly attached to my feet. I'm laying on the ground, still attached to my bike, I can't get up, and I'm confused why someone would dead stop for a tire lever - (it's an inanimate object! It's not as if it's a puppy and it's going to dart into traffic!!!!!). Luckily I didn't get hurt. I scared the crap out of one man who saw the entire thing. If he'd not had that bag on the pannier? I probably would have broken my nose, because I landed left side of my nose and cheek on that bag. My left sunglasses lens had an imprint of my cheek on it (thank God for shatter-proof sports glasses). I had not a scratch on me. My bar tape got a small tear in it, but that was it. I guess if anyone should have fallen, it should have been the one who KNOWS how to crash and not get hurt (me), but damn. Needless to say, after that, I refused to get within 20 FEET of the guy who braked, and I'd been about 3 or so feet behind him at the time of the wreck. Cripes. We were only about 4 miles from the finish, but still.

My neck is a bit sore, but nothing else. I have a few bruises. I can't post the picture of the one, because it's way too close to my kitty, but it's a pretty good mark. A couple on my knees, but literally nothing else. Okay, I admit it. My nose is still a bit sore. And frankly: it should be. Holy crap.

It could have been worse. Much worse. But I don't know what I'll do next year... full face helmet?

FINALLY, I have a job!

A bit behind, but I got a job. Finally. And what happens? 7 months of not-a-single-offer. Not even a crap one. And then what goes on? I get two offers. At once. It was awful. I know, I know. "You should have a choice!" and blah blah blah, but it sucked. I won't get into it, and sometimes you still wonder if you made the right choice, but I believe I did.

And now. How the hell do people do a full-time job, ride, grocery shop and keep up on life? Holy moly. I'm so freaking tired. ALL THE TIME. I'm just hoping that my "schedule" kicks back in. And soon!

Tomorrow marks 4 weeks of employment. And my benefits just kicked in last Saturday. That will be important in the next post...

Bruised Bananas

Ah, the bruised banana. Much like the too-soft avocado, which is really only good for guacamole, the bruised banana is actually good for eating. To a certain point. Once it reaches that point, it's really just good for banana bread. But don't discount the bruised banana. Good banana bread isn't truly good with the elusive PERFECT BANANA. Good banana bread NEEDS the bruised bananas of the world.

Which brings up my point.

The job market. It pretty much sucks right now. I've been looking for a job since January. That's SEVEN months, tomorrow, since I lost my job. Dang. And I haven't been sitting around counting my cash. Well, I've been watching it disappear, but I digress. I've been applying, and interviewing, and applying and after countless applications and interviews, I haven't even gotten a LOUSY offer. Believe me. I'd take a low offer, or even a contract position, just to keep my brain from turning to mush. I need to feel productive!

I've had some close calls. One, in which, the hiring manager was checking references, asking about salary requirements, and throwing about titles. Only to do a 180 three weeks later and say she wanted something completely different. Talk about frustrating. What's actually MORE frustrating is that I'm finding that she never actually contacted any of my references. Just kept giving them the run-around. Much like I was given.

Last week, I got more bad news. I'd applied for a job about 2 weeks ago. Actually, 2 weeks ago yesterday. That went well enough that I got a request for a phone screen with the recruiter. Those are usually fun, and give you insight into the company, while they get some info about you. It turned out to be a very entertaining interview, mostly due to my getting caught with food in my mouth. TWICE. After I got off the phone with her, she called back. Yes, I had ANOTHER mouth full of food. Good Lord. I really don't eat 24x7, but it was funny. That was a request for a phone interview with the hiring manager the same afternoon. Totally open for it. It seemed to go well, with a few misses, mostly just due to my rustiness on intense DB operations. He indicated it went well, and the follow-up email the next day indicated it as well, as they were requesting a face-to-face last week.

Fast forward to last week. No word. Nothing Monday. I figured that if I hadn't heard by noon Tuesday, I'd ping them to find out. I got my answer Tuesday. "On second thought, the hiring manager felt your DB skills weren't good enough, so he doesn't want to pursue it any further." UGH. Really? Such a shame, because this is totally fixable - immersion in the DB world causes things to come back very quickly, but alas.... it was not meant to be.

This made me think of the banana theory. Trying to find a job is like online dating. If you're not perfect, the date passes, or the employer passes. Does any perfect candidate exist, in any realm?

I felt like the lowly bruised banana. The banana with a small bruise, which lies in the banana bin, being continually picked over for the perfect, yellow banana. Only 1 in 1,000 truly appreciates the bruised banana, knowing darned well that it makes the perfect banana bread.

Real Roadkill Ride

Sorry, no actual pics! Just a cruise from Woodside Town Hall to Los Altos and back, with a few loops in Palo Alto (where I kept wanting to count one dead skunk, multiple times, due to the "loop" I was riding...).

- 1 dead skunk (pee-yew)
- 2 dead squirrels
- 1 dead something-or-other (it was picked pretty clean and was unable to be identified)

Let's just say the dead skunk did NOT look like this --->