Tuesday, May 21, 2013

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.

Monday, May 13, 2013

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.