Nine Reasons Why I'm Not A Very Good Teton Valley Resident

As I might have mentioned once or twice, I really like Teton Valley and feel that it suits my lifestyle well. I even got a dog so I could fit in better. But I realize now that I have certain shortcomings that will forever prevent me from being a true Valley girl.

Warning: gratuitous photo-stealing ahead

1: I don't backpack.

Or even camp for that matter. I just bought my first tent last year. Everyone around here will go spend the night in the woods at a moment's notice. Not me. I haven't figured out the mechanics of sleeping outside and sleep deprivation gives me a gnarly headache. And there are more civilized ways to remove your contacts than by the light of a headlamp, balancing your contact case on your knee while you root around in your eye with fingers that smell like campfire. Also, I don't like walking, particularly with something heavy on my back. Too slow. Fast-packing appeals to me far more, but in order for that to happen I need lightweight gear and a willing partner, and as of now I have neither. 

Typical Teton Valley residents backpacking
Pic courtesy of Ashley

2: I feel pretty meh about Yellowstone. 

Some people treat this like a blasphemy, because it's nearby and a national treasure or something. But A: it's a park, which is code for "no mountain bikes allowed", B: it has no big mountains to speak of, and C: two million visitors annually. 'Nuff said. 

3: Crossfit. 

Oooo, gonna step on some toes here. I would much rather get doughy on the couch while watching Taylor Swift videos than work out inside, and Crossfit, because it's expensive, isn't within walking distance, inspires fanaticism, and is often paired with weird and obnoxious dietary trends, is by far the easiest workout program to hate on. But there are two Crossfit gyms in the Valley. That equals a lot of acolytes.

4: I don't listen to jamgrass/psychedelic rock/"polyethnic Cajun slamgrass"/insert hippie noodling jam session festival music genre here. 

People who live in mountain towns love going to shows and festivals and watching artists perform long-winded solos. I'll tag along, but only if it's free, within walking distance, and very danceable. I will spend money, time, and effort only on shows where I can mouth along to every word of every song in a haze of joy, and Phish/Leftover Salmon/Yonder Mountain String Band/String Cheese Incident do not fall into that category. 

Typical Teton Valley musical performance
Pic courtesy of Idaho Falls Josh

5: I have an aversion to Floating. 

Teton summer weekends are like unicorn butterflies: shortlived and magical. You gotta grab those suckers and hold them tight for as long as you can. The way I do that is by mountain biking or doing other high-intensity stuff. Floating, i.e. joining a bunch of people on rafts to meander down the Snake River and drink lots of beer, is a very popular and common summer activity, but is entirely too sedentary for me to waste a unicorn butterfly on. And let us not even speak of Fishing. 

Typical Teton Valley resident Floating the Snake
(This particular resident probably climbed the Grand the day before this picture was taken. I am not implying that Floaters are inherently sedentary.)
Pic courtesy of Dapper Dan

6: I can't handle my whiskey.

Or any liquor, honestly. I think most activities are improved by a beer during or after, but the hangover I get after a single shot of anything hard is unbearable. Admitting this will probably get me kicked out of the west. 

7: I'm reluctant to go to The Desert.

Everyone goes to The Desert at least once a mud season, to climb or mountain bike. I have no Desert experience yet so my reluctance is unfounded, but these weekend trips always involve at least a ten hour drive each way and Lord knows I'm not traveling that far to rock climb. I'm hesitant to mountain bike there because A: I love trees and green stuff and roots and B: every time I go riding after a six month hiatus it's a scary endeavor and if I ride in The Desert I'm afraid my inaugural crash will be something especially unpleasant like plunging my front wheel into surprise sand at the bottom of a five foot rock drop and performing the mother of all endos. Seriously. This scenario replays itself in my head every time someone mentions Moab.

Typical Teton Valley resident visiting The Desert
Pic courtesy of Andrea

8: I'm not enthused by the frontier lifestyle. 

Good Teton Valley residents garden, have chickens, tend to their wood stoves, and hunt, or at least speak of those activities with longing. I'll be okay without ever bagging the obligatory elk (and it's amazing how generous friends are with their meat when they realize a whole elk won't fit in their chest freezer). For the most part I'm too lazy to take care of other living things, and I include wood stoves in that category because they're almost as high maintenance and demanding as chickens or gardens. Maybe I'll buy a share at the CSA. And then I'll turn up the thermostat. 

9: I can't grow a beard.

Trust me, I'm bummed about it.

A Word From the Soapbox

We were over at a friend's house the other night, eating enchiladas and enjoying the usual good-natured bullshitting. One of her neighbors was there too, a local wrench, fellow North Carolinian, and dude of whom I think (thought?) pretty highly. We were talking bikes, of course, and he asked what I ride, of course, so I told him but added that I'd just joined the local team, and before I could reveal the possible new bike purchase that that entailed, he cut me off with a sharp, "They're just letting anyone on that team now."

My friends who know me as a cyclist visibly stiffened. He backpedaled and clarified that he meant they were loose with their pro-form, but the jab still stung. I spent the rest of the night engaged with him in some kind of lame attempt to establish my legitimacy, talking brands and builds and numbers, and the climbers' and skiers' faces showed bemusement then boredom. I love gear talk for gear's sake but I cringe at myself when I fall into these conversations that are all posturing and name-dropping.

Unfortunately, sometimes it feels like that's the only way to convince recent acquaintances and new shop folks that, yeah, I'm a chick but I'm also a competent mountain biker. I don't think that I'm overly sensitive, but it is kind of a drag moving somewhere and doing the slow, elaborate dance of a new shop patron: hi, your kneejerk reaction to my entrance into the shop is wrong, I don't need dumbed-down service, please don't condescend to me. It's tricky to convey all that without outright bragging or obnoxious bike nerd talk.  If you don't get what I'm saying, imagine walking into the bakery for the first time. Based on her immediate visual judgement of you, the nice lady behind the counter explains to you the difference between a baguette and a danish, and asks if you've ever eaten bread before, and if so, have you ever purchased it all by yourself?

Absurd, sure, but the experience has repeated itself in several shops and parking lots across the country. There are so many lady rippers out there that it seems unwise to just assume a woman that shows up at a trailhead or walks into a shop is a beginner or casual rider. I'm curious to hear other opinions on the matter--if you're a chick, do you notice an initial lack of regard from shops and industry folks? Or is this issue unrelated to gender and does every new kid on the block have to prove him or herself? Or (quite possibly) am I just paranoid and too aware of how others perceive me? Pleasantly, I haven't encountered any of this bias in skiing, maybe because there's no organized competitive aspect to the kind of skiing I do. The scene is way more mellow and joyful, which is one of its huge appeals.

Greener Pastures

I did promise an update on my employment status, and I come bearing good news. I applied for a very promising-sounding job posting but after I jumped through a couple hoops they let me down gently. Fast forward several weeks of quiet desperation and the company contacted me with a new availability, so I walked over to the facility...a block from my house(!!!)...chatted with the owner, and after a couple painful days of waiting I got the call! I gave the Idiot Bosses a final weekend of my time and rather than braving the likely interminable and hostile resignation conversation, I left a painstakingly polite letter in the office and snuck off into the night.

So I've worked a full week at the new job, and I'm stoked. Go check out the website and you'll realize it is the perfect company for me. I am one of the two people that churns out energy bars five days a week. I make over a thousand bars a day. It's monotonous and laborious work but it feels great to create such a wonderful product, and I get paid by output so I have a lot of flexibility in a work week. Kate, who rides bikes, uses organic ingredients, and is invested in whether her employees get to play outside enough, is a very cool person indeed. I now share weekends off with the housemates, which opens up potential for all the trips we've been wanting to take: back to Sun Valley, up to Montana, down to the desert. And did I mention it's a three minute stroll from my front door? I'm not quite sure how I got so lucky.

Some B-Day Gloating

I woke up this morning feeling like I'd been crashed into by a double-decker bus.

Yesterday was my birthday, and while it seems a bit fatuous to go into breathless details about that sort of thing, this is in the end my public internet diary and I will on occasion get silly like that.

Because, really? It was effing amazing.

9/15 came bright and early with a (non-obligatory) 7am ab workout with the BC kids, who shouted a chorus of "Happy birthday!" to me as I entered. Joh greeted me with a mason jar of flowers and a home-baked tray of brownies...yeah, she's over-the-top wonderful like that. After crunching my core for a while I went to (obligatory) work, where my lovely bosses gave me some vino rosso. My roomie convinced me to join her for a quick birthday fat tire ride, which is never a bad idea.

During a drive through town I was tickled to see Miz Dickson, huge grin spreading over her face, mouth "HBD" to me through car windows while turning left, talking on the phone. Multi-tasker. Although the current state of affairs makes one question the quality of human nature, every time a birthday rolls around I am astounded by the pure unselfish joy people express to each other for such a mundane occurrence. And this is self-aggrandizement at its finest, but if so many people are so incredibly nice on this arbitrary day of me-celebration, surely I must be doing something right (right?).

The awesome train kept rolling. After my ride I headed to A-ville for the first game of the season. Soccer was my first love and it's nice to know that a: I haven't forgotten everything, and b: that shit is glorious. I've fallen off the wagon; intense, jubilant addiction. My teammates, none of whom I knew, surprised me by singing to me after the game. And then we went to the bar. A good crew. I had to duck out early to attend an 80s dance party, where I joined up with some finely bedecked friends, forgot about my innumerable bruises and sweaty grossness, and danced my ass off until two.

Hence my extreme soreness and malaise today. Yesterday I worked easy and played hard, all day, and have the scrapes and aches to show for it. And there is no better way to celebrate a birthday.

Stellar Times in SC

for once the collegiate road racing gods smiled down upon me and delivered up a win. albeit a pretty lackluster one.

the cards were in place. all the fast LMC girls were jet-setting in europe or out west, riding against other fast girls. the course had some hills. i felt good, and my bike was stuck in the big dawg (right where it belongs, one might argue). so i laid down what one might call a blistering attack (if one was so inclined) on one of the hills and rode away, bringing with me a lone LMC girl. she was hurting, but we maintained a decent clip for the rest of the "race". by the 1k sign i was antsy and frustrated, knowing that no matter how the finish went down, i would be relegated to second. because that's what always happens.

and then (and this is where i lose any chance at respect or any claim to a legitimate win) she didn't sprint me.

so we casually rolled through the finish, eying each other the whole time, and i had to explain to the saint, who was spectating (although he still SHOULD have been racing at that point) that i had won.

as thad puts it, "the first RR win in Brevard's history". i just wish it hadn't been so ho-hum. the crit was a lot of fun too, although i continued the grand julia tradition of chasing point(less) primes in place of impressive wins and netted a mediocre 3rd place.

the guys are earning their meals so far. elk killer and captain america finished top ten two days in a row. tristan had a fab break away but, as the announcer loved reminding us, "he really was racing, but it just wasn't good enough. he got gobbled up by them lees mcrae boys in the end...pothoes...been racing 25 years and officiating 15...something something..."

my favorite part of the weekend: when all the boys forgot their game of Yellow Car just long enough to bust out singing along with miley to "party in the usa".

chilling with the good doctor pre-race

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

i used to make a list at the beginning of each summer of stuff i wanted to get done before school resumed. you know, get a six pack, earn lots of money, travel somewhere interesting, make at least seventeen new friends. but at the start of each school year i would reexamine the list, notice my paucity of stomach muscles, and sigh wistfully. so how about a post-summer list of what i have accomplished? ok.
1: make new friends and keep the old
as my dad says, brevard is slowly shaping itself into a boulder-of-the-east. there is an influx of badass outdoor recreationalists coming to enjoy this little heaven on earth. fabulous! at the same time, i've managed to maintain and even improve standing relationships (and i discovered that "girl time" is rare and highly valued for others too)
2: excel AND decompress
i had a very laidback summer racing-wise, which leaves me jonesing for collegiate to start. i still pulled off a couple of wins and what felt like a real accomplishment--finishing ORAMM (and not breaking down. and not dying. and getting back on my bike within the week.)
3: earn money
i have to face the truth: money is very important to me. it's both my security blanket and something i'm terrified of. fortunately, by deferring travel and adventures until next summer, i built up a nice cushion to tide me over through the school year.
4: not get dumb
lots of books. and courses on tape. and giving people change, that always keeps me sharp as a tack! "hmm ok you owe me $8.45 and you gave me $10.50 soooooo...here's $2.05!! great success!!"
5: cook
the saint says my small-but-growing repertoire of meals all taste the same but i beg to differ! yes, perhaps they all involve a big mess of fresh veggies, no meat to speak of, lots of chili powder, and some southern flair (grits, okra, black-eyed peas...) but there are NUANCES, st marie. nuances. meanwhile he's in hog heaven eating cereal once an hour or so.
6: be satisfied with life
because this is the way it'll always be after this year, in the grown-up world. instead of focusing on the quiet or the tedium, i want to enjoy the interesting, fun, and fabulous stuff, although sometimes it takes some finding.

by golly i think this has been a good summer.