Adventurin'

the other day in a fit of brashness i hopped on the deutschbike and rode around lake tahoe. it was an 85 mile ride from camp and i fully expected to quit somewhere around tahoe city and turn back. i haven't ridden that far since 2009 and this was the longest ride i'd ever done alone by at least 40 miles. and yet somehow i was never bored and only got really hurty at the end. it probably didn't hurt that it was pretty flat and intensely beautiful, and that the weather was perfect and there were luxurious shoulders and bike lanes everywhere.

Emerald Bay, probably the most picturesque
and the closest to camp too

i stopped at the same beach we hung out at after nationals in '09 and felt a flutter of nostalgia. i would give anything for nats to be here again this year so i watch the old alma mater score its inevitable victory.


and then yesterday i jumped out of a plane. what a rush. i'd do it again in a heartbeat. would recommend it to anyone.

 

So, Worlds

[I promise there will be pictures, as soon as St Marie gets his rear in gear.]

We took a much less stupid way back so the drive home was quiet and uneventful. Not a moose to be seen. It was still eighteen hours in the car though, and when I wasn't listening to old mix CDs from high school, eating goat cheese, or guffawing along to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, I thought about the weekend. And concluded that it was kind of the most awesome thing ever.

Friday saw lovely weather and a sprinkling of rain, just like I'd hoped. Suddenly traction everywhere was tacky and ideal. Armed with a map and several sandwiches, we set out from the B&B for a long ride. A bike path, the wonderfully named Marie-Hélène-Prémont Trail, connects the town to the mountain. Once there, we were expecting more of the same thing we had ridden Thursday: tight, loamy, challenging, delicious. Turns out the trail rating system at MSA is a wee bit perplexing. Sometimes "Très Difficile" means tricky singletrack and sometimes it means brutal fire roads that go updownupdownupdown without providing any real sense of accomplishment. Regardless, it was a good ride and left us time to watch some XC and some trials (weirdest discipline ever).

On Saturday the weekend's festivities were amping up. The crowds were huge to watch the elite XC races. As we wandered through the pits we brushed by a veritable bevy of big names in mountain biking. I feigned nonchalance when I saw Melissa Buhl, Aaron Gwin, and Irina Kalentieva, but when Gee passed all I could do was stop and stare. St Marie regretted not wishing Adam Craig and Carl Decker good luck as they stood beside us to watch the ladies blaze through. I probably won't ever be inured to celebrity spottings--it took me hours to recover when Steve Martin stopped by the bakery, and he doesn't even ride bikes!

The women's XC race got me more worked up than anything else, I think. Watching Willow duke it out with the Euros and Pendrel was crazy intense and St Marie had to chase as I sprinted all over the course trying to get the best views. The best part was yelling "North Carolina" at Willow...I got to say hi to her after the race and through the red mist of competition she actually heard the shout-out!

The men's race was a success because Burry got a medal, but the US guys sucked it up, and anyway I was saving my voicebox for the night's 4X race.

Oh. My. God. Most insane awesome bike race ever. Words can't even express. The best part was watching chicks hit the huuuuge doubles, and seeing the Czech edge out Jared Graves in the final stretch to take the win. Then we watched the music from a hillside overlooking the venue as the light show illuminated the low-hanging clouds.

And there was still more. On Sunday we elected to ride the entire XC course to see if it really was that gnarly. And yes, yes it was. At the Rock Garden (which everyone spoke of as if it were capitalized, because it was so ridiculous) I took a hard tumble on the chicken line and struggled with the tech stuff for the rest of the ride. I do not envy the racers. Then we splurged and got lift tickets up to the top so we could scope out the whole DH course. I yelled for Rachel like there was no tomorrow, but the crowd saved its loudest love for Steve Smith, the Canadian who took a surprising second after Sam. Then, suddenly, it was over.

At frequent intervals during the car trip, unable to contain my glee, I would turn to St Marie and say, "That was the coolest thing ever." Pause. "That really was totally awesome. What a good freaking idea." He offered little in the way of disagreement.

And that was the story of my trip to Worlds. Soon to be augmented with pictures.

Dear Amtrak: You Are Wretched

(But I forgive you.)

Amtrak lost my reservation not once, but twice. The first occasion was weeks ago, when Julie-the-automated-Amtrak-lady rang me up and left an ominous message telling me that I had to call her as soon as possible. Because phones make me quake in fear, the Saint took care of it for me and reminded Amtrak that I did actually exist and did actually have a reservation.

And then we rolled into Greenville late last night and...you'll never guess. Once again we spent almost an hour convincing the company that I was not a ghost or specter. (It's like that Stephen Crane poem...I said to Amtrak, "Julie, I exist!" and she replied "However, the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation.")

So that was kind of appalling. And the station was filled to capacity with crazies. Two stereotypical New York hens gabbed ad nauseum while Lee the OCD station attendant (and Jessco White look-alike) sashayed around with his can of Mountain Dew and engaged his customers in conversations right out of a bad screenplay. Fortunately the trip has been relatively painless since then. And checking a bike on a train really, truly does cost a mere and magical five dollars. I'm in Charlottesville in the Blue Moon Diner killing time until my 1:00 connection to Chicago. They gave me a pancake with Dwight Schrute's face on it, so I can't complain.

If you look closely you can just make him out under the pat of butter.

Then I was about to pack up and wander back to the station and they turned on the World Cup! I am swimming in coffee and very content.