A New Book

Note: I understand I didn't draw any funny pictures for this topic. It's because it's an actual serious one. Don't worry, the next one will be snarky and full of stupid pictures. 

There's a point in a person's life when things become stale. They're stagnant. It sucks, I know. I've been there, done that. You get so comfortable with your life that you just go with the motions. You get up, go to work, go to the gym/train on your bike, come home, sleep. Do it all over again tomorrow. You're comfortable with your family and friends because you know what to expect. We're creatures of habit. I get it. We like to be able to predict things, though we thrive when we think of ourselves as unpredictable. Go figure, right?

So, we go through the motions. I do, too. I just go with it. I'm comfortable, happy. Why should I change anything? I'm living the Modern Mother-Fuckin' American Dream and I'm doing well. But that's the thing. I wasn't fully happy. Stagnation. It didn't make me happy. The motions were too repetitive and too boring. I needed to do something about it.

I was resentful of my life. In my mind, I was doing everything right. I finished High School with an extremely high GPA, I went to community college, transferred to University, got my degree with a competitive GPA. And then what? I guess Grad School. And I was ready for it. I was ready to jump in. I sent in applications to several places and got accepted to these places, but I wasn't ready for it. I didn't want it. The program in Sacramento wasn't what I wanted (a PsyD) and I didn't want to move to the Bay Area, so then what? I even told people that I didn't get accepted into the Sacramento program because I wanted to avoid the questioning... "What!? Why didn't you accept the program. This is for your future."

But if I'm doing everything right, if I'm doing everything for my future correctly, then why am I so resentful?

I thought about it. I thought about my future a lot. And I kept resenting it. There more I thought about it, the more resentful and angrier I got with it. I was doing everything right. I went through my higher education and I had absolutely nothing to show for it except for some debt I accumulated. I had debt because of my future but no job in my field. So I was supposed to go through more school, a Grad program, and accumulate more debt? Without a guaranteed job? Is that really what I want? Do I want to continue this road of uncertainty?

I didn't know.

When I got the congratulatory e-mail, I remember sitting down and bursting into tears. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what the fuck I wanted. I didn't know if I wanted to keep this horrible road of "I don't know what going to happen when I finish. I don't know if I'll have a job. I don't know what I'm going to do. I. Don't. Know." At that point, my best friend had mentioned the Air Force. Ha. Seriously? The military? While I've always had the curiosity of joining, I never actually thought of it as a possibility. But we were serious, and we went to talk to a recruiter.

The only problem was that the recruiter was never at his office. I submitted an application online and one finally called me, and left me with so many questions that I didn't like it. But the idea of the military was still there, and I thought about it more, and more, and more. The idea never left my head. This was an opportunity for me to continue my educations while I had a guaranteed job, so I wasn't going to give up so easily. One more time, I went to the Air Force office and the recruiters weren't there nor did they answer their phones, so I said, "Fuck this. I'm going to chat with the Navy."

Most of you know how this went.

This career change has been so amazing for me. It's opened up so many opportunities and I'm extremely excited for my career to start. And it opened up my eyes.

I have a lot past resentment. I resent certain events in my life, certain decisions I made, and certain people. It's hard to get rid of past resentment, however, joining the military has started a new chapter in my life. It's a new path. It's not just a new chapter in my book, it's a whole different volume. This is my chance to restart my life. Not many people are that lucky.

In this new insight, I got a moment where I thought, "Fuck all of the people who ever made me feel like shit, who ever hurt me, and who were terrible people to me." And that was it. I was to burn all of those bridges, because I didn't fucking need them. They needed to be gone. I would no longer tolerate their shittiness or anything they did, whether it was in the past, present, or whether they intended to hurt me again. They will not be allowed to be characters in my new book.

So, I started small. I first went on my phone and deleted all the contacts I didn't want. I then went to my social media, mostly Facebook. I have so many contacts on there that I've had to scroll through my friends list several times. My rules for deleting these people were simple:
1) If I hadn't talked to them in more than three months (I think this was generous), they were cut and,
2) If the name on the screen brought up a bad memory, I cut them from my connections.
It's been working wonderfully so far.

It's easy for me since I don't have children, and one of the reasons I don't want children is because of the freedom I have. But it's been my choice for several reasons, and the main one is the freedom; I've been able to drop my whole past, my whole life as I know it, this book I've written in for the past 27 years, and burn it. I can burn the book of the KC that I know, and I'll start a blank, new book. A new book without past resentments, without old stories, old pain... without history. I'm burning those bridges, and with those bridges, is that old book.

I've Moved. The fuck. On.

This is the happiest I've been in a long, long time. I'm refreshed, I'm excited, and the best part, I'm looking forward to my new life.

Friends

There comes a time when you have to weed people out of your life. It happens at different stages of life. We either outgrow people or something happens that makes us hate that bitch a whole bunch. Most of us don't keep contact with our grade school friends, either because we moved or because we outgrew them or because they took our favorite toy or told your mom that you were eating mud and got you in trouble. Fuck that kid.

We get new friends when we're teenagers, and because we're hormonal little shits, we fight and sometimes those friendships can't be fixed. Then we become young adults and make a lot of mistakes. After the quarter-life crisis (oh, if you think we don't have one, you're dead wrong), you start making big life decisions. It sucks, but it has to be done. You are, after all, supposed to be responsible or something at that age. So, you start to make new friendships. Professional friendships. Friendships and relationships that are supposed to help you along, whether it's emotional or for when you need a night out, or for companionship... something. But some go wrong, and you have to learn when to weed those friendships out like an adult.

I've started to weed out a lot of people. Some because I've outgrown the friendships, some because they're complete and total douchebags so I don't want to deal with them, and others because they just suck as people. Most of the time, I get rid of these people because I simply don't want to waste the emotional energy in dealing with them. They're unpredictable people and it makes me uneasy. And here's the thing I've realized, I don't have to keep these people as friends if I don't want to. I don't. What will I lose? What will I gain? How much is it really going to affect me? If the answer to all of these questions is "not much," then what the fuck?

Here are the people I've recently been weeding out:

• The Seasonal Friend

We all have this kind of friend. They talk to you like you're their best friend in the whole damn world, text you and call you often, like every status and picture on your Facebook and Instagram and whatever the fuck else social media you two are connected on. You constantly do favors for this person, help here and help there. Then suddenly, nothing. They're just gone. It's like they disappeared into thin air for weeks or even months. And then you get this text... because they need something. After months and months of not even acknowledging you, you're once again their best friend because they need a favor, however small it may be. I say FUCK YOU now.  

 

• The Client

This is the person who is always depressed and always seeking advice. It's never just a conversation to talk about stuff, it's always stuff about them. But not just stuff about them, depressing stuff or seeking advice stuff. You say something not about them, and they seem to turn it into their issue. You can't get a word of positivity in because they just bring down the mood with their issues. You're their play, zero-profit therapist. And I guess this is my fault for getting a degree in Psychology. My excuse now is that I'm now pursuing a career as a Master at Arms in the Navy. SRY I WON'T BE YO' SHRINK NO MO'.  

• The gossip

Yeah, okay, I'll admit that I enjoy hearing gossip. As long as it's not about me, I don't care. (Shut up, you like gossip, too.) I hear gossip from a lot of friends. Some are just harmless stories, others are not so harmless and kind of hurtful rumors in the ears of the wrong person. Most people know that I keep that shit to myself, say "yup," and don't really provide much feedback even though I'm dying on the inside and want to say something, so I re-tell these stories to my dog and horse, but then I just look crazy... I mean, even the dog and the horse are looking at me like I'm crazy.  I don't trust the cat so she's out of the gossip circle. Uh, anyway... then one day while I was all mopey and probably watching Spongebob Squarepants, I realized, "Shit... if these friends are saying that shit to me about other people, what are they saying about me?" Why the paranoia? Because I see the way The Gossip interacts with the people he/she gossips about. The Gossip is extremely nice to people when in face-to-face contact. Once the victim leaves, The Gossip unleashes and says a whole lot of not so awesome things. I shit you not, it's like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde type change and it creeps me out. I realized that I'm not very comfortable around The Gossip, and while I enjoy the entertainment, I don't have the energy to be lied about. GO AWAY, I say. 

 

• The Partier

The Boozer, The Drinker. I just don't have the energy or the patience to deal with that sort of friend. I have a huge career goal in mind and I just don't have the energy or the balls to do something stupid and ruin my career. So, NO STUPID FUN FOR ME.

• The Joker

Nothing is ever serious. You can't have an actual conversation. Even if you tell them that your most beloved pet died, they'll make it into a joke. I can't and won't even try anymore.

I know, you're probably all going, "Well, this is passive-aggressive." The thing is, there's nothing passive about my aggressiveness. Most of the friends I've listed are out of my life... The rest, which are minimal, are in the process of getting weeded out. 

The Wolves

I read on the internet a lot. I usually use it as a sleep aid, because even though I'm going at a million miles an hour during the day, I can't wind down at night. I should be fucking exhausted after all I do during the day. It seems that my brain goes from being functional, making organized lists of what I have to do, and gets shit done during the day

To going and shitting itself at night

There's an actual point to this entry. So, my brain was shat one night, as it usually is, and I was scrolling on some sort of social media. Through my mindless scrolling, I came across this picture:

I get it. We live in a society that says, "Think positive! That's how you get stuff done!" And it's true, you have to think positive to get some stuff done. I won't deny that. Even though I seem like an angry person, I'm actually quite optimistic and pretty fucking happy. However, we need some of that greed to survive. If we were to always be super generous and give everything away, we would't have the resources to live. 

We need some inferiority to keep the ego in check, but we need some ego to have the confidence to hit the curveballs that life throws at us. 

We need anger to fuel a passion. We need rejection to feed the need to overcome challenges. We need some jealousy to want more than what we have, be it a better life, a better education, a better something. As long as that jealousy feeds our work ethic and is not a jealousy that will hurt another person, I feel that it's okay. 

I've felt all of that in the past. I've had the rejection, the feeling of inferiority, the jealousy, and it all made me work harder. It made me want a better life for myself, to work hard to get my education, to work hard to have a chance to have a career in the Navy. I had a bit of jealousy some peers who didn't have to work very hard to get state of the art bikes, so I worked my ass off to get the bikes, wheels, and to become a better and faster cyclist. I've had the anger and the resentment in myself for falling off of the bandwagon and quit lifting, so I went back, mad at myself, and have become very strong and have met the expectations that the Navy has for me. I want to exceed those expectations, and I will. 

A person who only has happiness, love, hope, and has only gotten the truth has nothing to overcome. How can a person grow to be a better person if they've never had a hurdle to jump, or gotten hit by that nasty curveball? There is nothing to overcome; it's a comfortable life. And, to me, that's a damn shame, because I've become the person I am now (and fuckin' aye, I think I'm a pretty good person) because of all of the challenges I've had in life. 

So, to this picture, I say that we need a third wolf. We need a happy wolf who loves and shit but who has had some shit thrown at him. A wolf that wants to work to become Alpha, not just be a comfortable Omega. 

That Special Place in Hell

Here's a list of people and things that deserve a special place in hell:

• People with gas vehicles who park at the diesel pump, especially those who park there to go buy something into the little convenience store... not even there to pump car-running nectar. 
• Those who think that men and women can't be "just friends."
• People who give unsolicited advice. 
• People who can't stop talking about themselves. 
• Overly-political douches on Facebook or Twitter. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR STUPID OPINION GO AWAY JESUS CHRIST!
• Spiders, aka NOPES. 

• Cheap vacuums. 
• Shedding season. 
• Not getting the channel that airs the San Jose Sharks games. 

• Tumbleweeds. 
• People who smoke while driving. 

• My neighbors because every single one of those fuckers smoke and the nasty smell gets in my apartment. Fuck. You. 
• Lifetime movies for being so bad and addictive. 

Expect That Special Place in Hell Pt 2 soon. 

The Master Plan: Hooyah!

I haven't written anything in a while. I've been really busy with The Master Plan. I know that some people who read this wonder what The Master Plan is. I haven't mentioned what it is simply because I didn't want to jinx it, even though I'm not superstitious in the least bit. Still... just in case, right?

Late last year, I decided to inquire about joining the military. Yeah, you know, I'm 26-years-old and have a college degree. What's the next step? Everything wasn't going according to my Original Life Plan so I decided to be open minded and inquire about the military. First was the Air Force (sorry, dad), but after giving me the run-around and only talking to crappy recruiters, I decided to talk to the Navy (Dad was happy). After talking to that recruiter, I felt comfortable and took a practice ASVAB, in which I scored highly. Two days later, I took the real ASVAB, in which I scored even higher, and started signing the remainder of my soul away... or at least trying to.

Weeks went by and the process kept getting longer and longer. I didn't know that it would take this long to join the military. Then months went by and I still hadn't done my physical. At times I thought, "Shit... am I not even good enough to join the military?" The signing process started in March of 2013.

And the process kept getting delayed. Curve balls kept getting thrown at me, but I kept hitting every single one of them. I didn't give this up.

Earlier in August, I got a call saying that I have a physical. Sweet! I went to my physical, which was a physical only (meaning I wasn't going to choose my job that day nor swear in). Everything went as smoothly as it possibly could that day, which was odd because I was expecting more curve balls (and yes, I was going to hit more home runs). I volunteered to be first for everything just to get my physical over with.

After the doctor congratulated me for passing the physical and being fit to serve in the military, I went to my liasion to get some of the final paperwork done and to do my interview. I was told, "Well... if the moons and stars align perfectly today for you, you might be swearing in." I didn't hold my breath because, after 6 or 7 months of this, stars and shit didn't align. The curve ball this time was that the planets and stars did align for me and I chose my job and swore in. As of August 12, 2013, I was in the Delayed Entry Program for the US Navy. I'm now a future sailor.

The patience was worth it.

I also have an awesome recruiter who tried his hardest to get all of my paperwork done and whatnot. He gave enough shits to get my stuff pushed through and to get me into the Navy. I thank him for giving shits and for helping me get this opportunity.

So far, DEP has been awesome. I enjoy the PT and I really enjoy learning in the meetings and whatnot. I've been studying so I can start my mentoring and to finish my START booklet.

Finally... I'm moving forward with my life.

Lodi Cyclefest

I raced Lodi for the first time three years ago. I was a CAT 4, injured, and chubby. I got dropped like a rock and lapped at three or so laps to go. However, I fell in love with the course; it became my favorite race of the year. In 2012, I was able to get 5th and on the podium, again as a CAT 4. I've been hungry to win this race... it's close, but dang, it's still far.

I raced this course as a CAT 3 this year, not injured, and a lot less chubby. The field was good and I had a bunch of my teammates working for me. Wait, what? In other teams and in previous years, I've always been the domestique. I'm usually the one doing the work, unless I break away and for some reason succeed. I'm comfortable working for others and taking charge of a field. This year, I was being worked for. The week prior to the race was nerver wracking because I have no idea what to do when I'm being worked for.

That picture also describes how I felt when I graduated college but that's a different story. 

Anyway, the weather was hot and gross. I like hot weather, don't get me wrong, but when it gets over 100 degrees... eh, it's pushin' it. In fact, the all mighty Garmin/Strava combo said that the average temperature was 108 degrees. 

We lined up and started the race. My teammates Jen, Shannon, and Kelli attacked as planned. Jen attacked again and stayed away for a couple or so laps, we catch her, and then I attacked and tried to get into a nice breakaway. It was going okay for some time, until I realized that I still had 25 minutes of racing to do and I couldn't keep that intensity in that heat. Bummer. We got caught and Jen, Shannon, and Kelli attacked some more.

It was great. Team tactics are so cool to play, especially when your teammates are helping you. The problem was that I didn't know (and still don't) how to be helped, so I kind of tried to go with the flow and follow what my teammates were doing. 

About 3/4 into the race, I started to get full body chills. Ugh... okay, suck it up, buttercup. It's only a few more laps. I tried to position myself into the last two corners correctly, and Shannon had a perfect lead out for me. The two girls on either side of me clipped their inside pedal on the asphalt, which made me hesitate because I didn't know if I was going to crash with them or not, then started to sprint. Shannon was ahead of me but my hesitation cost me, and I sprinted for another 5th place and onto the podium. I could have definitely been braver and rode through that potential crash. Was it worth risking the crash? Not really. So, Shannon and I got on the podium in 3rd and 5th, respectively. I could have also yelled out to Shannon to sprint for a higher place, but I was too busy being a chicken and hoping to avoid the crash. Lesson learned on that one. 

We took a cool-down lap and I went to turn one to chat with other friends. I got off my bike and instantly got tunnel vision. The heat got to me. It took me about an hour or so to recover. Everyone was super nice and took good care of me. I decided to not race the WP123s. Death in that heat seemed like a lame way to go. I got a nice workout and a decent result at my favorite race of the year. 

I'm still hungry for that win at this race. It'll happen...

Red Peloton has definitely been an amazing team. I'm super happy and honored to be racing with this team this year. Thanks again to my teammates for being so awesome to me! And thank you for showing me the ropes on how to race intelligently... and for being so patient with me!

When The Glass Breaks

You see it happen so often. People separate, find a different group, stop talking to each other, or avoid each other because they don't want to talk things out. Many people think that if they ignore it for the right amount of time, things will go back to the way they were. People don't realize how horribly incorrect they are. Things don't simply "go back." Once something is damaged, such as a friendship, it needs repair.

There are reasons why people won't talk things over:
1) They're too chicken shit and don't know how to approach the problem
2) They don't care and don't want to approach the problem
3) They actually want to move away from the friendship

In my case, if I don't talk things over with most people, it means that I don't want to be a friend to that person, or at least not be as close as I was to said individual. Talking things over takes a lot of work and time. There are some cases in which I no longer have the interest or patience to take the time to talk things over. In other words, it's no longer worth it; the friendship has been too damaged.

Keep in mind that I usually care enough to talk things over. I usually care enough to take the time to make things work. However, I have a limit. Once that limit is reached and abused, it's game over.

The biggest problem is that people don't realize that once something is too damaged, it won't be reparable. There's a tipping point, a point where a mere ice cube will make the water spill if you take the wrong step. After that, every ice cube you add will spill more and more water. A person eventually gets tired of cleaning up the spills. That's the point of no return. That's the point where you either stop putting ice cubes so the water stops spilling, therefore walking away from the problem, or having a giant spill, potentially breaking the glass. Slow evaporation or catastrophic breakage, those seem to be the most common choices. It's too late to apologize at that point. You've gone and fucked up.

There's a pattern. People who used to talk to you on a nearly daily basis start hanging out with other people and make it a point for you to find out. It's as if they're saying, "Hey look, I've replaced you! What'cha gonna do about it?" This is a lot easier to do now with social media. Some people get really hurt feelings. I tend to be a mix of points 2 and 3 mentioned above. We're no longer in grade school. If we're going to deal with a problem, it's going to be dealt with, and not in a "haha look at how replaceable you are!" Because seriously? Fuck you.

The pattern is extremely damaging. Here you are, being all loyal and shit to people. If your friends don't like an organization or they get fucked over by one, you riot! You get angry! Okay, maybe you don't riot, but you're loyal enough to your friends to no longer support whatever or whomever fucked them over. It's an unfortunate thing that 98% of people I've met and have said that they're my "good friends" don't reciprocate that. I'm finding myself getting more and more fed up with that, too, and I'm not tolerating it. If you expect me to be loyal, you better not be fucking around. Tango is a two-way dance.

I'm definitely noticing that I'm less tolerant of things. I don't have to be uncomfortable, I don't have to deal with things that make me feel unwanted, unappreciated, or less than ideal. So, fuck it. Here's a shape... within a shape within a shape.

Boggs 8-hour

I originally decided to race Boggs back in December or so of 2012. I was at a point in my cycling where everything sucked and it was so boring and ugh, what am I even doing? That I decided to sign up for the race. However, I wasn't sure if I wanted to race it solo or with a partner, so I thought about it. And by thinking about it, I didn't really at all unless someone brought the race up. At one point, I read a post that Frank wrote on FaceBook about needing a partner for Boggs. I said I wanted to do the race, and then it was decided that we were going to do it as a two-person coed team.

So I trained some. I was really excited because I had a sweet ride for the race (my Grammo Toa). As the race approached, though, I didn't feel like doing it. It was stupid. We were going to have no showers, and why the fuck am I racing an endurance mountain bike race when I'm a crit racer? Whatever, I still rode my mountain bike and tried to sharpen my technical skills a bit more before I went to do this stupid race.

And then it was a week away and I really didn't want to go, but I unfortunately paid for the race and agreed to be on a two-person team, so I felt kind of stuck and went to do the race anyway. I could just hear my brain say, "I told you so, asshole."

So, we went to the race on Friday, May 3rd. We set up camp. I had a self-erecting (yeah) tent and it was pretty easy to set up because it seriously just self-erected. It was magical. I should probably mention that we camped with the SuperPro guys, which apparently meant that we were going to party a lot because these are the signs that were at the entrance of the campsite:

 Then we got on our bikes and pre-rode. It was getting dark and I had dark lenses on my sunglasses. I thought I was going to crash since I couldn't see shit but I didn't. Good for me, I guess. I proved my brain wrong one more day.

It was really pretty up there and the trails were a lot of fun. We went back to camp, had dinner, and got stuff ready for the race in the morning. I put my number plate and timing chip on my bike. As you can see, we were Team Bad Part. 

On race morning, I found this:

I'm not sure who put that empty beer bottle on my bike. I never found out. I didn't drink that night so it wasn't me, and it was no one I traveled with, so who knows. The mystery will remain. Anyway, we got ready for the race. Frank was first to go, so he went down to the start line while I brought water and a chair down to the pit. Our plan was to do two laps each and then alternate laps. And we did. I set everything up in the pits, got myself and my bike ready, and then went down to wait for him so I could start both my laps. 

The race was fun. It was really dusty, though, and that sucked for allergies and breathing. And you couldn't breathe because of all of the dust. I did my two laps. My second lap was more eventful than the first. Some dude decided he was going to pass me on the cliffy side of the single track and fell on me.

"Dude, get off!" I told him.

"Well if I could just pass you..."

"If you get the fuck off I'll be able to unclip and you can pass me. Get. Off." He was a prick.

A guy on lap three decided that he was going to pass me on one of the really crappy switchbacks and hooked his handlebars on my back, then blamed me for almost crashing. He was all, "AH SHIT WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"I WAS HERE FIRST YOU JERK!" He went on his way. 

As you can see, I don't let other riders bully me, whether it's on mountain or road.

Anyway, on my very last lap, I passed the SuperPro hand up station and Frank yelled out, "I'm not doing another lap!" and I immediately relaxed and took my time. I was exhausted. I actually stopped at one point to drink water and relax a bit because I was making so many stupid mistakes due to how tired I was. I was taking stupid lines. I mean, stupid. My legs and lungs were fine... well, as fine as my lungs could be with all of the dust, but my shoulders and huge roadie upper body were tired and sore. 

After my last lap, I sat with Krissy, Amanda, and the LeadOuts and hung out. I had a beer. I pretty much wanted that beer after racing 34 mountain bike miles. At that point I hadn't actually drank since my race season started in January, so I got pretty drunk pretty fast. After getting an autograph from an 11-year-old who was killing it out there on course and not being impressed by Levi being there because I don't like him at all, I slowly walked my bike up to camp with Ashley, where I proceeded to drink a couple more beers and passed out after being a complete dipshit. I achieved my goal of doing four laps. I wanted to celebrate... or something. 

Moral of the story, kids: If you're going to party with SuperPros, you better be prepared. Not drinking for months, racing 34 dirt miles, and then drinking makes you a super cheap date. I slept in my self-erecting tent like a champ that night. 

It was a fun race. I was glad to be home to take a shower. I enjoy camping but being without a shower after racing isn't as fun as it sounds. At all. It's actually really gross. I had to wash my hair twice because it didn't lather the first time. With that said, everyone should experience a race like this at least once in their lives. I'm hoping I can do this next year, either solo or as a team with Boyfriend.

My, How Things Change

If eight years ago you would have told me that I was going to find a passion outside of horses, I would have laughed at you. No way! Horses were everything to me. I breathed, dreamed, lived horses. I had big goals and I was inspired. I won championship shows, three-star competitions, etc. I had the drive and the natural talent needed for it. A broken leg, big accidents, and aggressive problem-horses didn't scare me. Nothing stopped me. I was living the dream. My dream. I was to be a top equestrian... even my trainer had that vision for me.

I hit a milestone in my life, which was graduating high school, and started college. I was exploring new things, new ideas. My world was expanding; it was no longer that of an ignorant high schooler, it was now a little more open, a little less ignorant, and extremely hungry to learn more. I was doing well in my studies and doing fantastically as an equestrian.

While I was exploring new paths in my life, I started going to the gym regularly to help with my fitness at horse shows. They were getting harder and more competitive, so I wanted the extra push. I started doing spin classes to help with my cardio. One of the instructors then said, "Hey, you should try riding outdoors, I think you'd be good at it." I laughed and thought it was crazy, but the idea never went away. A few months later, I bought a bike, learned how to ride it (yes, in that order), and started cycling outdoors.

My, how things change.

I started like most cyclists started: I had no idea on what I was doing. I kept tipping over because I couldn't unclip. I then started training more on the bike. After I was done with training horses for the day, I would ride my bike for as long as I could. I started training for my first century and completed it four months after learning how to ride my bike. It wasn't fast, but I completed it, and that made me happy. As Don, the man who is guilty of planing the cycling seed in my head, said, "You will amaze yourself at the things you can do."

So I kept riding...

And then it happened. My primary competition horse got hurt. I wasn't able to ride him. The other horse I was competing was no longer in my line-up due to his owner going absolutely bat-shit crazy. I was only riding polo ponies, but polo wasn't my main event, Dressage was, and I was horseless for that. But my cycling kept me sane. I went out, rode more centuries than a beginner probably should have, started training for the Death Ride, and so on. I did the rehab I had to do on my horse and I kept playing at the polo field.

Later on, I decided that I wanted to try a race, so I bought a day license and raced my first crit. I was terrified, but I'm the type of person who needs a goal. This time it was with a different sport, a whole new world for me. It was fun, but I missed my Dressage. After the first road race, crit, and circuit race, I decided that I really liked it, so I made racing my new goal. I wanted to get better at it. I didn't have the natural talent I had for horseback riding, but I worked hard, and I was going to make it a goal to be a better racer since I had to rehab my Dressage horse.

So I kept racing...

And racing I did. I raced to victories, defeats, disappointment, and happiness. I found a new passion. My horse was hurt so I retired him, and I never went looking for another horse to compete with. I kept cycling. I used it as my main source of transportation to Sac State. It was a daily 55-mile round trip. I made a goal of becoming a CAT 3, and I accomplished that goal. And now I have more and more goals, none of them on horseback.

Don't get me wrong. Horses are still my passion. I won't be getting rid of my horse. If someone were to say, "Choose: The bikes or the horse," I would still choose my horse. He gave me so much and taught me a lot in my young life that I owe him a happy life. He will live carefree, semi-retired, and happy with me for the rest of his horsey life. The good thing is that I don't have to choose between the horse and the bike and I'll keep riding and racing my bike. For now, my horse dreams are put on hold. I won't compete for a while, I won't own a new horse for some time. I'll eventually get another horse when I'm ready and when I feel like competing in Dressage or endurance again. For now, I'll try my heart out at my cycling, and hopefully get a few more victories under my belt.

Red Kite Criterium

Red Kite was the first crit I raced in as an official Red Peloton rider. It confused some people. Most recognized my bike, but not me, since I'm now wearing red/black instead of orange/gray. But, who else around here races a pink and black Grammo and wears a hot pink Rudy Project helmet? Right, no one.

Anyway, we got to the race and got our numbers. I went to look for my teammates since they had my new bibs. Now I have a full kit! I changed and went over to where my teammates parked to talk some strategy. I then kind of sort of joked and said, "I was thinking of doing the E3/4 race to warm up."

"I am, too! Do it with me!" My teammate Lauren said.

"Okay." And that's all the convincing I needed. I went over to register for the E3/4 race.

I've never raced in a group of 66 people, let alone 64 dudes (Lauren and me being the two chicks). The plan was to just stay in and get a warm up. We did, and it was pretty easy. I couldn't see much since most of the guys towered over me, but I settled after a few laps and felt fine. It's a completely different than racing with ladies. Everything was going fine and dandy until I heard the announcer say, "Rider 278, you're in the wrong race."
"Am I rider 278?" I asked Lauren, and she nodded. Ugh... So I was right; the ladies at registration fucked it up.

I pulled out of the race to chat with the officials. After being given a run-around, asking if I entered the wrong race, me telling them that no, I entered the correct race, wrote it on the entry form, and paid my money and that the chicks at registration made the mistake, not me. After working registration at so many events, you'd think I got this handled, right? The race promoter was pretty awesome, though, and was able to settle the debate I had with the USAC official. I mean, really, how many times do I have to say that I didn't register twice for the WP/1/2/3 race (wtf?) and that I signed up for the E3/4. I eventually got back in the race and was able to settle back in and get a my warm up. Everything was going great until we had 4 laps to go. Guys were making stupid, stupid moves and were getting really sketchy. Lauren and I decided to drop out. On the lap following the one we dropped out on, there was a crash, which later on turned out to be a drama-fest, mostly by guys in their late-30s and 40s being cry babies.

Racing with men is gross. I don't know how many times I got sprayed with sweat. Ugh.

I'll be racing with the guys as future warm up again, thought. That was a lot of fun!

We then lined up for the WP/1/2/3 race. It was a fairly big field with about 42 ladies at the start. There were a couple of Vanderkitten racers and a bunch of blue dots Metromint ladies as well, who kept doing the norm: Attack and then attack some more. The whole race was pretty uneventful, really. I was happy I stayed with the group. Since I was still recovering from my cold and was having enough coughing fits to make people feel uncomfortable, I was pretty happy that I was even able to participate in the sprint, which didn't go very well, but I tried... while coughing.

Having so many teammates in the race is great. When I felt like my lungs weren't going to cooperate and when I wanted to throw in the towel, seeing so many of my teammates gave me the boost I needed to keep going that extra lap. It's also awesome to have so many teammates in a race, reassuring you, telling you that they're behind you, working tactics, and rooting you on mid-race. Red Peloton has been so awesome!

Kristen, the W1 in our race, got 5th, all the W3s got respectable placings on such a stacked field, and Sam won the W4 race! Overall, it was a good day for Red Peloton.

Things That Are Not Okay 4

Several good opportunities have presented themselves in my career and in my cycling. Thank you to those who have encouraged and supported me on these adventures. You guys are awesome and inspire me to keep the good and self-improving vibes flowing! To those who have been really negative toward my improvements and me, boo on you. Your negativity is not needed and will no longer be allowed to put a bummer on my day.

I actually had to post that status on my Facebook. People are absolutely ridiculous. I get that some people are butt-hurt over some of my decisions, but none of my decisions have a negative impact on anyone or anything. In fact, it can only positively affect me. So, why? Why are people being so rude, so petty, and so damn stupid?

To those who have been awesome and supporting me, thank you. I know some people don't know the full story, but it's in the works. If everything works out the way I hope it does, I'll make an announcement and I'll thank every single one of you for being amazing and supporting me in these decisions. The awesome support definitely outweighs the negativity of those who are nay-saying my decisions, or who are too butt-hurt and have decided to give me the silent treatment instead of telling me that they're butt hurt.

This "Master Plan" has been in the works for a while, so I'm hoping it all works out.

For those of you who were asking about my cycling, yes, I have switched teams for the rest of my season. I definitely enjoy LeadOut Racing, however I've been racing solo for most of my W3 career and after racing Top Sport against so many Metromint ladies, I realized that I won't be able to achieve my goals as a solo racer. It can't be done. When such large teams takes control of a race, all a solo racer can do is sit and maybe get a lucky break, which I wasn't able to get at Top Sport. The Chico Stage Race was a bit different, however. I guest rode for Red Peloton, the second largest team in that race (Metromint, again, being the largest), and we were able to do some damage. Being on a team is what I need to achieve my goals. Being a team player is essential. I've always been a team player, I just needed the team. There are quite a few W3s in Red Peloton, and now I'll be racing with them.

Oh yeah, I'm freakin' stoked!

With that being said, no, I'm not a traitor. I'm still the same person, the same cyclist, who trains just like everyone else does. I still want to ride, train, and hang out with those who were my teammates, because I consider a lot of them my friends. The only thing that has changed are my kit colors. For those of you who have called me a "traitor" and who have said that it was a bad move on my part, you can kiss my Latina ass. It's as simple as that. I'm not going to deal with your petty and stupid ideas that I "belong" to one team. This is amateur racing; if I'm not having fun, it's not worth it. Being a solo racer and not achieving my goals eventually gets tiring. Having a team with several riders in my category is ideal for someone who has goals and wants to build up a good race resumé.

Seriously, I cannot believe some people's reaction. I haven't even told my whole team and the reactions are already stupid. And no, I will not sugar-coat how stupid these reactions were, because the reactions of me switching teams were just stupid. Those reactions are not okay. These decisions are not affecting anyone in a negative way. If anything, the effects of these decisions are all positive. These decisions are affecting no one but myself, so back off and quit saying stupid shit.

So thank you to those who have supported me. I know some of these decisions are hard ones, such as my career one, but they're good. I'm hoping everything works out. I'm taking all the necessary steps, I just have to be patient. I'm extremely excited... but the wait.

... stupid waiting game!