Not Bad, Not Bad

I'll admit it: the thought of spending time in Rome made me nervous. My experience with big cities is limited, and Rome is, you know, huge. Guide books call it intense, gritty, a sensory overload, chaotic, risky, crowded, potentially overwhelming. But, really? I like it a lot. The mild sunshine and late nights of bonhomie don't hurt, but I think this city is more pleasant, more welcoming, cleaner, and less crowded than some I've been to in the states. The catcalling I heard so much about has been kept to a bare minimum, and jogging along the Tiber felt neither foreign nor sketchy. The apartment is located on a narrow cobblestoned street in a locals-only piazza only minutes from the crowds of the Pantheon, the Vatican, and Trastevere. I feel like a rube in totally uncool clothes, sheepishly blurting out "grazie" to shopkeepers who have waited on me in flawless English, but at least I'm not wearing a backpack or socks with sandals. The view from one of the seven hills, I guess

We did an actual paid-for tour of the Vatican today and it was quite something. In a place with such a glut of decadent beauty and art, it's nice having a friendly Dutch girl tell you where to look and what charming anecdotes to consider. Of course, after browsing the masterpieces of history for four hours straight, we needed gelato therapy, followed soon thereafter with risotto pastry therapy...and topped off with sandal shopping therapy.
Cliche?
Wonderful. I haven't done a great job documenting this trip so far (surprise!), so here's a lame shot of the back of St Peter's Basilica...

Day Due

Time in Rome has thusfar included:
-an artichoke sandwich
-aperitivo at several bars surrounded by heart-breakingly cool young Romans that made me want to hide in the bathroom
-a torrential downpour--I can't escape the rainforest that easily
-a tiny but excellent apartment overlooking a bustling plaza
-the Pantheon, which (surprise surprise) is way cooler in person
-delicious anticipation of our upcoming weeks in the south

Europe for Beginners

well, i'm flying to Italy tomorrow. rome for five days then frasso telesino for two weeks. don't really have anything more to say but: oh boy! and stay posted.

Um...Oops

Suffice to say this weekend did not turn out as expected. I was planning to suffer and plod through the run and then surge from behind to take the throne during the six-hour. I assumed I would be deathly sore and fatigued from the run but would somehow rise like a phoenix to conquer the course--after all, I am in no way a competitive-level runner, and am in some ways a competitive-level rider.

Well, I won the half marathon.

I do not win running races.

Uwharrie was way...way...way...way too many fireroads. Yet somehow this didn't daunt me. I went on my merry way, heart beating in time to the pitter patter of high cadence footsteps, drenched with sweat in the 93% humidity. Zoning out on the fresh logging roads and relishing the rare singletrack. Then St Marie, who was trawling the course on his Stumpy, gave me a news flash: Number one!

Say what?

When we crossed paths again and he confirmed it, I settled into grinning complacency--until I glimpsed the light-footed form of another female right behind me. Terrified, I pushed hard for the last four miles and finished, arms raised, only 45 seconds in front of her. Sub-two hours.

Me and my "arch nemesis"

On Sunday I forgot, in a combination of laziness and cockiness, that a six-hour is about riding as many laps as you can, not as many laps as you can get away with. Feeling way better than anticipated, I took a huge early lead, pinned it for a few laps, then started taking longer and longer breaks. I would eat, drink, and watch the course, trying to ascertain where the eff my competition was. Finally after five laps, my hands and ass whimpering for respite, I asked the well-meaning but somewhat inept race director what my gap was. He told me #2 (who was also second in the run) was two long laps down, with an hour and a half to go. After I had thrown in the towel, changed clothes, and put on my shades, he let me know that the timing was screwed up and she was actually only one lap down. No way was I kitting up again, and my faulty math led me to believe I still had the W.

Alas. My mistake was revealed at awards. So in a very strange turn of events, I won a half marathon and lost a six-hour that I had been totally crushing. I still netted the Queen of the Mountain, but it was a hollow victory because not only was the competition pretty sparse...I couldn't even beat the sparse competition!

Well, we still had fun...and I definitely won't do it again, thanks.

And Then There Was This

thanks to ella for the fab photo

Fast Times

You know how once in a while you'll have an experience that's such pure fun, so gut-bustingly funny, so grin-inducing, so achingly perfect that you want to preserve it in amber and take it out to warm you on some boring, depressing winter day?

This weekend contained a quick succession of just such experiences, the best of which was the first annual Fast Times at Brevard High Alley Cat. Dan somehow masterminded an amazing race that was both super casual and very involved--detailed course maps, intricate scoring calculated under the influence, and a couple of checkpoints that were sheer genius.

The biking community of Brevard and its suburbs answered the challenge, and how--the Arbogasts rolled up with decorated children in tow,

Cissy and Dave came all the way from Hendo to embarrass their competitors, the King of Pisgah wore a black sequined jumpsuit,

JT proved himself an adept freestyler when accompanied by some fresh Barbie beats,

and quite a few participants forsook the race for some cornhole and cream ale.

I spent most of the race with my lady friends at the costume checkpoint and couldn't count the number of times I keeled over laughing. The best part was reuniting with everyone at the Root and hearing the war stories--time-trialing on the bike path, creative interpretations of the local knowledge photo bonuses, old man dance parties, and pancake flipping under threat of a soaking. Dan Bennett, town shutterbug, took a gabillion pictures and I dare you to find a single shot in which everyone is not beaming ear to ear. To Dan, T Cowie, everyone who manned a checkpoint, and all sixty-something people who showed up to have some fun: well done! As if I needed another reminder that Brevard is absolutely awesome.

Oh Hi

Forgive the extended hiatus. I have done literally nothing worth alerting the interwebs about. I had composed a little ode to summer in Brevard, but it rang hollow when I reread it a few weeks later--true to form, after a May of quasi-bacchanalia and carpe diem-ing, I have reverted back to my natural state of book- and blueberry-devouring lounge lizard, ready to call it bedtime at the drop of a hat.

Race weekends and epic runs have passed me by with little effect. Nothing looms on the horizon except a trip to Italy (the idea of which seems too unreal and ephemeral to talk about) and this weekend's alley cat (sure to be the social event of the century).

Nonplussed by all this inactivity, I decided (with the usual hemming, hawing, flip-flopping, and backpedaling) to sign up for the Uwharrie Rumble in two weeks: half marathon on Saturday, six hour mountain bike race on Sunday. Highest scoring woman wins the coveted Queen of the Mountain title.

A whole new flavor of stupid, ne c'est pas? (Oh crap, I can't even say that in Italian.) Prompted by my desire to check out Uwharrie, I've committed myself to an entirely new way to discover that I don't like racing. Yay! It also appeals to my secret love of omniums--I may be mediocre, but I'm consistent, gosh darnit. Fortunately I'll have the emotional/logistical support of the Saint...although it will assuredly be peppered with I toldja so's when I'm a whiny, cramping wreck mid-race Sunday...

Always good to have a positive outlook. Stay posted. I promise a scintillating synopsis of the alley cat as well.

Burn 24

This weekend the PAC sent quite a posse to the Burn 24 Hour race at Dark Mountain. After much jostling and last minute changes we presented ourselves to the (rather annoyed) registration people as a three-pronged juggernaut of co-ed fury. We were all smirking and nudging each other, fully expecting a podium sweep by the pasty mountain folk.

Twenty-four hours later, the pieces hadn't exactly fallen as we'd expected. Granted, the KOP (who is allergic to failure) and his loyal cadre had scored the win, but trailing them by only a few minutes were some (wicked fast) randos from Charlotte or something. Third by less than ten minutes was T Cowie's team, and then in fourth was my team--we had judiciously chosen to skip the last lap because our shot at the podium had grown slim at that point.

Look at all those scofflaws who think they don't have to wear kits on the podium!

That said, the competition was intense the entire time. Every lap out was a battle of titans--the margins were tiny, the stakes were high, and everyone had a goal, whether it was fastest lap time, catching the old man in front of them, or just staying upright on the slick off-camber roots. It was not a mellow twenty-four hours, in any case.

The course was fabulous. None of the climbs were too hard so you could concentrate on pinning it and ripping the ridiculously fun descents. But by night the pace had taken its toll. I felt like we were all floating in a bowl of tepid soup and all my clothes were either sweaty or dewy. Oatmeal cream pies had lost their appeal and fatigue had set in. Laps in the witching hour weren't my favorite--stumbling out of my tent in clammy chamois to wait once again in the transition area for the ghostly emergence of a teammate from the fog begged that tough question: why the eff are we doing this???

But sometime around 6:45am I went out for another and discovered why people race these silly things: the first lap of dawn is a glorious thing. Caution and timidity flee and you're overwhelmed with irrational euphoria--I can see everything! The sun is a beautiful thing.

Afterwards, placated by free BBQ and many hours of sleep, I realized that it was a durn good time and the PAC represented like champs. I got fastest women's day AND night laps, which was pretty exciting, and had lots of fun with everyone.

Yay!