New Developments, Apologies for Sporadic Posting

Hey sports fans,

I know it's been almost 3 weeks since I had an update for you, and here's why. I'm writing another book. Whoa! Where did that come from? Well, where most of my ideas come from, out of a nether orifice. My great friend Anne, who is also a great writer, invited me and another of her friends on a "writing retreat" to celebrate the end of her semester. I was like, "Sure, I got nuthin' in my pocket as far as writing, but I'll come to Sea Ranch with you and see what happens." So we up and went to Sea Ranch for a few days, and next thing I know I've written three chapters of a novel. I've never written a novel, or even part of one, or even thought very seriously about writing one. The idea of going on a writer's retreat, though, made me think, "Hell, I'm a writer. Damn straight! Maybe I'll write a novel!"

Now, there's no way I get this thing going without Anne. She is an absolute fountain of plots and ideas and notions, and I've always felt, for some reason, that I can't figure out a plot. But we sat down and started throwing out crazy ideas, and words started to flow. It was fun. And writing for fun is one of the funnest things I know. The flow was flowing big time.

A cool place to write a few chapters.

I don't know if this story will ever be published, and I don't care. I mean, I do care, and I will work to get it to the largest possible audience, but right now I'm just squeezing in a hundred words here and a hundred words there. So when I have a few moments, I've been pulling up that "manuscript" and not the blogspot URL. The flow has slowed a bit since I no longer have the great luxury of writing for several hours a day just for fun, but it's still trickling along.

It was a great few days for BFFC reasons, too. We walked, we hiked, we swam. Linda gave me some pointers on the butterfly, which remains my Everest. Very hard, very enticing, potentially very beautiful. Someday I will reach it, but I may need supplemental oxygen or a Sherpa to help me.

We ate great food, we watched some cool movies, we all got along great. I saw a grey fox trot up almost to the window, pounce on something, miss it, yawn, look into the sun, and walk away.

Highly recommended: a few days with extremely congenial people in a beautiful, stress-free spot where you can reconnect with something you really love in a way that's not too structured. You never know what may flow.

Tour of Cali

After a great couple of days with the Tri-ers, I rested up for a bit of an evening and most of a morning before heading out again to meet Leslie, her tri-friend Lorna, and Leslie's 15-month-old bucket of adorable, aka Celio. Leslie is the Queen of viewing the Tour of California, and has leveraged her flexible schedule, spacious van, and sporadically amenable husband into some great roadtrips following the race through northern and central parts of the state. She scopes out where the post-race peeing van is, where the team buses are, and how to get to where the riders are going to be after each stage. She has a jersey and a visor covered with autographs, and a bunch of cool photos. Now, however, she has Celio, so our plan was a little more social, less hard core viewing.

I wrestled with the flat on the front tire of my Specialized so I could ride it into town. I knew the Sacramento Area Bike Advocates were providing free valet bike parking, but I was still nervous about leaving the LeMond, even in a guarded pen. Am I obsessive? Not by cycling standards, no.

It was a gorgeous ride into town, at least until I reached the streets around the Blue Diamond plant, ground zero for Sacramento's large homeless community. Some broken glass and a few catcalls were the only unpleasantnesses though. And many of the folks without houses are part of the cycling community. I've seen a lot of water bottles and firewood transported on bike racks and trailers. We nod to each other on the trails, worlds apart but for the bikes.

Down around the Capitol, though, the mood was festive in the extreme. A big expo with all things bicycle, a huge crowd all along the route, and a hum of excitement in the air. Some of the biggest teams and cycling stars in the world had passed on the Giro d'Italia to prep for the Tour de France in California. Mark Cavendish, Fabian Cancellara (Fabian!), Tom Boonen, Jens Voigt, Mick Rogers, Levi Leipheimer, Dave Zabriskie, and that Armstrong guy - it was awesome. I was delighted and proud to see a race of this caliber in my home city, with such huge crowds. I could hear a lot of conversation as I moved along and the spectators knew their cycling, too.

Valet bike parking was just as wonderful as you would imagine, and I gladly stuffed a few bucks in the donation jar. Cities need more of this.

I bought like 13 pairs of cycling socks that were on killer sale. Some of them were random, but they were all cheap, and none of them were white. White cycling socks get too dirty, too fast.

The race itself whizzed by in a blur, three times around the finishing circuit, a flash of yellow and white, and Mark Cavendish took out a prestige win in the final sprint. Leslie and Lorna and Celio and I scooted around in search of autographs, but the cyclists were spirited away into their buses pretty quickly. Celio didn't care; he was asleep. While he was awake, he was delightful, and I do not say that lightly since I am not a baby person. Babies have to impress me on their own merits; they don't get points just for being babies.

I'm feeling kind of disjointed tonight. What was my point? Oh, yeah. Cycling is super fun. It's super fun being on a bike; it's super fun watching the best bike riders on the planet ride their bikes; and it's super fun buying cycling socks. If you get the chance to do any of these things, do them.

Hard Work, Big Fun, a Little Dizziness, More Fun

Despite my frequent vows to take it easier at work, I often find myself putting in huge chunks of hours as grant deadlines approach. So after 108 hours in 11 days, I was able to take a Friday off and meet up with the WW Tri-ers group, a bunch of women who are gung-ho about having fun with triathlon and life. They have met up every year since 2004 to do a tri or a "spring training weekend" involving riding, running, swimming, eating, drinking, and laughing, in some combination. Last year we were in Austin, where I got to give a talk at Mellow Johnny's. This year, the gals (and a couple spouses) came out to do the Bay to Breakers run and some cycling in scenic NorCal.

I eschewed the B2B on the grounds that 12k was too far and that I wanted to be in Sacramento for the first stage of the Tour of California, the premier bike race in North America, finishing just a few miles from my front door. But on Friday morning, I was voluntarily out of bed at 6:15 sans alarm (!) and on the road to Healdsburg, in the heart of the Sonoma wine country by 7:20. A couple hours later I was waiting patiently for the convoy to arrive from San Francisco.

Lead by Marin-based Robin Van V., we toodled west out of town and along some beautiful rural roads that led us up the Dry Creek Valley. Some really fine zins and cabs come from there, and on this sunny May morning, it looked like paradise. The road wound gently up and down, which I wasn't really used to since I now live in pancake-flat Sacramento, but I was able to zoom down the downs and not fall too far behind in the ups. About half way through we stopped at Zichichi Winery to regroup, but there happened to be a sign outside that said "Barrel Tasting Today," so what could we do?

As often happens when I drink red wine these days, the wine went straight to my quads and the ride back was much, much harder. The 26-plus miles were more than I had done since last April, so I felt good about that, and I basked in the camaraderie and off-color triathlon/cycling talk we enjoyed with our upscale sandwiches at the Oakville Grocery. (Short and curlies in your BodyGlide, that sort of thing).

After a great evening with Michelle and Russ and a fine sleep, I rolled out of bed to get the alarm, feeling no soreness or physical fatigue. But wow, I was really dizzy. I lay back down, and the ceiling wouldn't quite stay still. Huh. I sat up. I was still dizzy. I lay down for 10 more minutes. Eventually I decided that a couple hours on a gyroscope was a bad idea and I bailed on the planned Tri-ers ride over the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin.

It was frustrating to feel so good physically after the ride, no sore buns, no stiff legs, but not be able to go out again. But I figured I needed to heed this signal to Chill the Hell Out, so I spent another pleasant few hours with my fabulous friends, and by late afternoon I felt good enough to join the Tri-ers for dinner. A little dehydration, a little reaction to the 100-plus hours of work and other excitement of the past couple weeks, a little reaction to the longer, hillier ride. I guess. I got home around 10:30 and slept for 9.5 hours that night.

I woke up on Sunday feeling like I'd been clubbed on the head - a frequent sign that some fatigueiness is around - but it soon passed as I started getting pumped for the Tour of California and meeting up with my "tri soul sistah" Leslie from Chico. But I'll blog about that tomorrow, I think.

My Long Neglected Other Bike

As loyal readers will know, I have been having some annoying issues with flat tires on my bicycle. I had to get new rim strips, which, in case you were wondering, are the cloth (preferably), rubber, or plastic strips that protect your fragile inner tubes from contact with elongated spoke ends or sharp edges of spoke holes. It was a long process that involved a lot of trips to bike stores to figure out what had happened. For those of you who would like to avoid the long process, check your inner tubes carefully after each flat to locate the area of the puncture. If it's on the inside of the tube, suspect that your rim is the culprit. Look for the corresponding area on the rim and see if any spoke hole edges or long spokes are exposed. If they are, get to the LBS and buy some rim strips.

And then my second ride after getting the new strips? I got a flat. The jagged hole in the front tire, though indicated to me that I was looking at a new culprit, probably a piece of the broken bottles that litter West Berkeley streets. I made my way home on the slow leak, cursing my bad tire karma. The next day, I went to change the offending tube, only to realize that I was plum out of tubes thanks to my incredible rate of flats lately. Nor could I find a patch kit that seemed viable.

I turned to my long-neglected second steed. My steel and carbon hybrid-framed LeMond Zurich (like the one pictured above, only with a triple chainring) was my new baby, my pride and joy, when I purchased it in the fall of 2006. I wanted a triple so I could possibly one day climb the longer hills above Los Altos and Mountain View without blowing out my knees or back. I test rode about 15 bikes, and that one had the "ahhh" factor. It just felt good.

But after getting Boo-Boo Kitty Syndrome and being unable to ride for a year, I had to go back to my old Specialized for my first rides. The LeMond's bars were a little lower, my position a little harder on my back, neck, shoulders. Plus, I had moved to Sacramento, to the pancake-flat land along the river, and couldn't foresee needing a triple for a while. So the Zurich languished in the garage until Saturday, when I just wanted to ride and didn't want to drive to the bike shop so I could do the riding.

I wheeled it out, dusted it off, pumped up the tires, lubed the chain, and rode off to Natomas Bike Shop for more tubes. Ooooh! It felt good. It felt smooth and fast. Even the Terry Butterfly Tri Gel Saddle was comfier than the rather unforgiving used Dragonfly I had put on the Specialized. Actually, much comfier. Yeah, it was a little more of a reach to the brake hoods, and I didn't have the nice clip-on aerobars with the flip-up armrests, but I could definitely ride it. I have, apparently, rebuilt enough core strength and flexibility to handle the more stretched out riding position.

Cruising around the Natomas roads and onto the Garden Highway, I was extremely happy to notice that the frame soaked up the many bumps in the road, leaving my tender posterior practically unscathed, even though I had forgotten to lube it up with an appropriate unguent.

I didn't go far, or particularly fast. I'd like to blame the vicious winds for that, if you don't mind. But I went on my long-neglected LeMond, and I felt good afterwards. I have to adjust the cleats on the bike shoes that fit those pedals, and I want to swap out the aerobars for the flippy-uppy ones, but what I really want is to ride that bike a lot. Maybe even up some modest hills. It's a step forward.

An Open Letter to Outdoor Divas, Purveyors of Women's Fitness Wear

Dear Outdoor Divas,

I found out about your site from an ad that popped up on my Facebook author page. I’m the author of two fitness books for the world at large, Slow Fat Triathlete and Shape Up with the Slow Fat Triathlete, so I was interested to see what kind of great gear you had for women in the outdoors (and indoors).

Imagine my disappointment when I found that your online store does not offer one single item in extended sizes. Your “about” page states that “Women are not small men.” This is extremely true. It is also true that not all women are small, and not all active women are small. An estimated one-third of American women wear size 16 or larger. The teeny-weeny sizing associated with most women’s fitness brands won’t even fit an average size 14. Do you really want to exclude 33% to 40% of the entire female gender from being a part of your “group of passionate, active women (and men) who love being outside in every season”?

As an endurance athlete whose “racing weight” is well above 200 pounds, I can’t help thinking that your view of an outdoor diva might be a little narrow. I’m a cross-country skier, a cyclist, a triathlete,a swimmer, a paddler. I’ve engaged in yoga, salsa dancing, marathoning, backpacking, strength training, sea kayaking, disc golf, and open water swimming, just in the past four years, and I’ve needed technical clothing that fits me well for a lot of those activities. I’m happy to spend money on good gear, though I want fair pricing.
And you know what? There are thousands of women out there just like me, who just happen to wear sizes 1X-4X or larger.

Until you broaden your horizons and expand your perspective on what outdoor athletes might look like, I will continue to shop at Team Estrogen, REI, and Junonia for my fitness wear. And (sigh) wear men’s fitness clothes too.

Think bigger.

Sincerely,
Jayne Williams

A Collection of Disjointed Thoughts

I'm feeling the need to post something, since a few days have flowed under the bridge since the last update, but it's Friday night, I got up extra early this morning and drove to the Bay Area, and I had to wear itchy clothes for a client meeting because the clients have already seen all my non-itchy "respectable" attire. It only took two meetings. So the best I can muster this evening is the following.

1. My bike has not given me any further problems, and I think I have found a Local Bike Shop (LBS) that will command my loyalty. Natomas Bike Shop, tucked into a nondescript shopping center between a Papa Murphy's and a Round Table Pizza (no, I'm not kidding), has the combination of service, character, love for bikes, and droll repair dudes that makes me happy. After my last set of misadventures, I took the bike back there. They made everything right; they made me laugh and they charged me very little.
2. I notice that I can ride up onto the Jibboom bridge from river level pretty well now. When I first started riding again, that really was a tough climb for me. BFFC Minor Triumph.
3. Louis Garneau Sensor bike shorts in plus sizes rock. I had a pair last spring, I lost them somewhere. Austin? The back of my closet? I finally admitted they were gone for good and screwed up my courage to spend another $90 on another pair. Now watch, I'll find the old ones. That'd be ok though because they are sooo comfy. The waistband in particular. I got a nice Terry sleeveless bike jersey too. Gotta shout out to the places that make high quality technical wear for high quality larger athletes. Team Estrogen, Louis Garneau, Shebeest, Terry, Moving Comfort and of course the gals at Enell are faves.
4. I still haven't done any yoga. But my neck and back are all feeling pretty good right now. Touch wood.
5. I've had a couple jog/walk sessions in the last week that felt pretty decent. I'm being super cautious, but I've worked my way up to 40 steps jogging, 60 steps walking (after a sensible walking warmup of course). I can foresee the time when I might actually jog a mile again. BFFC Minor Triumph #2.
6. Noticing that I'm jealous of my Facebook and other friends who are already racing. But I'm not there yet. I'm pretty close, but I want to be able to jog/walk 5k easily before I venture back out on the course.
   

Well, that's probably it for tonight, sports fans. Physical activity plans for the weekend include a swim if I get done with Capital Stage fundraiser prep in time, and a long, uneventful bike ride on Sunday. Have fun out there.

Further Maintenance Woes

I just posted this review on Yelp.com. ARRGH!

Velo Sport Bicycles

1615 University Ave
Berkeley, CA 94703
(510) 849-0437
1 star rating
4/16/2010
I rarely write a negative review, but I was so freakin' frustrated by my experience that I'm going to lay it out there.

After I picked my bike up yesterday from another bike shop (which will get its just desserts in time), I noticed some seatpost slippage. I went to tighten it this morning when I got to work, and the collar bolt snapped. Ack. So at lunch I head up to Velo Sport on my new WigglySeat (TM) to get a replacement bolt. On the way there, my front tire flats. Grrr. So I finally make it there and ask the dude to find a replacement bolt, please, and change the front tire.

This little desiccated shaggy guy starts looking for bolts, fiddles around for a long time and finally finds what he thinks is right. All the while stammering and hemming and hawing and trying to explain what he's doing and why the other bolt lock was stripped etc. etc. Which is normally interesting enough but he is taking FOREVER to explain it and meanwhile he's dropping his tools and dropping the bolt and generally acting like a tweaker. I tell him (pleasantly) I just need a temporary fix so I can get home and take it to the shop that might have screwed it up. Then he gets all defensive on me. Argh. I tell him it's fine, just find something that can work and let's get 'er done.

FINALLY the bolt is in place and tightened, along with much hand-wringing by Dessicated Weasel Dude about the groove and a needle file and how this will slip again etc etc. I point to the tire and look at him expectantly. 'Ooohhhh, yeah," he says. "Right. Well, I don't want to try and do it while you wait..." I took pity. "OK, why don't I get some lunch and come back? in about a half hour?" I said. "OK?" He agreed.

I have my lunch and come back for my bike. "Oh," says Weasel Dude. "I didn't do it yet." By now I am starting to get a little steamed. "Well, can you do it now?" I ask. Still pleasantly. He thinks he can. I tell him I will look around the shop - I am usually happy looking around a bike shop. This bike shop has some interesting things: touring bikes, messenger type bikes, vintage bikes. But it also feels depressing. Maybe it's just me. And the other guy working there looks like he sleeps under an overpass. Ick.

20 minutes later Weasel Dude shows up at the counter with my wheel in one hand and a tire in the other. This is not good. Turns out he thinks my rim strips are too wide and that is causing the tire to not seat properly, making it hard to change the tire. Well, I could have told him that they are 1991 Wolber rims and don't mate well with modern tires, and that's why it's hard to change them, but I stupidly said, "OK, go ahead and put a narrower rim strip on."

20 more minutes go by. Finally Weasel Dude appears with my bike. I go to pay and then he decides he wants to have a conversation. Unbelievable. I answer him politely and make some motions with my credit card like "I want to pay you and leave. NOW." He rings me up and I'm about to be gone when he says, "Wait! I have to sign off on the work order." So I have to give him back the paperwork so he can painstakingly scrawl his name.

Two hours after leaving my office, I return, stunned. I had no idea a bolt and a tire change could take that long. (ok, 20 minutes was because of having the flat in the first place, but the rest was all WD's fault)

And, on my ride home, the seat post started to slip again. WD had warned me it would, but I didn't think it would be after just 15 minutes on the road.

Bottom line: maybe it's just Desiccated Weasel Dude, but I will NEVER go to this shop again. Ya lost me.