tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53673363226127428662024-03-05T16:49:07.078-08:00See Kay RideU.S. Navy Sailor, passionate horsewoman, and a wannabe cyclist.Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-13915400522713538522019-08-21T14:12:00.001-07:002019-08-21T14:12:09.333-07:00Original PranksterI haven't updated this thing for various reasons. But life is damn good. Yeah, I know. Things actually get better as long as you hold on for that hell ride.<br />
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First thing's first, I want to introduce my best friend: Milo!<br />
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I got him on in early-ish 2018 and it's been a sweet ride with this guy. I intended that pun if you didn't get it so please laugh because I'm very funny. He has his issues due to being abused in the past but he's grown to get over his trauma and he's doing amazingly well with his training. He went from being afraid of bunnies, shadows, butterflies, and anything that moves to a kick ass trail horse. He also filled up, grew two inches, and looks so beautiful. I put his AERC racing name as Original Prankster because he is one, and because I love The Offspring.</div>
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My new command? Kick ass. We're all gonna have a gripe about a place one time or another, but I really can't think of any at this place except for the occasional drama that you experience when you put people in a floating bathtub together for hours. I like my command so much I actually made T-shirts. </div>
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Lost about 40 pounds of the 60 I gained at the hell hole in Washington and I'm racing again. Uh, but triathlons.</div>
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Yup, you read that right. This person who loves crits and MTB has decided to get into triathlons because it's what is available in sunny San Diego and I've been doing pretty good. Already a first and two thirds in the 4 races I have done. I'm racing the 70.3 SuperFrog in less than a month, which I can't believe it's finally coming up. There has been a lot of preparation for this, especially after recovering from getting hardware in my leg.</div>
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Oh yeah, I also broke myself because I'm a dumbass, required surgery, but that's for another day and more funny pictures.</div>
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-42479673827842404382017-11-21T20:36:00.002-08:002017-11-21T20:40:17.195-08:00Ode to The SpankyEveryone knows I love horses. I had my own. The love of my life. The love of my life since I was 14-years-old.<br />
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I went to the High Cascades 100 race in Bend, Oregon on July 15, 2017. It didn't go well. I was pulled due to severe dehydration and I couldn't make it. I'm no longer the athlete I used to be. In fact, due to seeing my blog being read by someone at work, I decided to look at previous entries from 2013 and yonder. Man... was I a different person. </div>
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I was clearly upset since I didn't finish this race for a second year in a row, and I had to come to terms that I couldn't ride that distance anymore, especially with the little to no training I have and could even do at the time. I wasn't feeling well due to the dehydration, and I should have actually gone to the ER, but I didn't want to have to deal with work (lol) being pissy about it. </div>
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On the morning of July 16, 2017, I woke up to a voice message saying that Mac has colicked through the night and wasn't recovering... that it was most likely his last day. </div>
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I still have that voice message. </div>
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My heart sank. I called as right after I heard the message and talked to his caretaker, my best friend's mom, and my second mom. I kept crying because I made the decision to let go of the one thing that I knew would always be there for me and who had been there for me since I was 14. </div>
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I lost part of my heart that day, and there was no getting it back. </div>
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The Spanky is the horse that taught me some huge lessons in life. He's the one who never judged me or ridiculed me for my mistakes, the one who truly forgave me for the horribles mistakes I've made in life. He taught me that every mistake is a lesson in life, and every time you learn something new, it makes you a better person. He taught me what true forgiveness felt like and what true unconditional love is. </div>
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Ge taught me some lessons the hard way, too. He taught me that you don't have to be a brute to be firm. You don't have to be calloused to be disciplined. You don't have to be mean to teach. He taught me that sometimes you have to take a step back and recollect yourself. He also taught me that sometimes you just have a bad day and don't want to do anything. On those days he'd buck me off, and you know what? That's okay. </div>
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Mac had been in my life for 16 years. He let me try everything, from poles, to herding horses, to jumping, eventing, dressage, and endurance. He was always willing to let me learn. He didn't yell or get mad, he didn't hold a grudge, he <i>taught</i> me and he let me learn. He wasn't shy about letting me know when I made a mistake, and he was always so firm, but gentle, when he corrected me. </div>
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Because of him I know that you don't have to be an asshole to correct a mistake. </div>
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A huge part of my life is gone and I'm completely devastated. I made so many mistakes along the way but he never hated me for them, he never looked at me like I was a fuck up. He knew me for who I was. I was his caretaker, his rider, his teammate. </div>
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<i>I was his person, and he was my horse. </i></div>
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I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, Spanky. I wish I could give you one last kiss. In times like these, where I wish I wouldn't wake up, I need you the most. To hug that big neck and cry into it, just like you would let me. I'd always calm down because your breathing would always help me. </div>
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I love you and miss you so much. I wish I had you. You were only 23-years-old. I wanted to see you again when I finally left Washington. I've needed you so much these past three months. I should have been with you... but you're no longer in pain. I'll see you when my time comes. </div>
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-62739049608948669022017-06-12T16:16:00.003-07:002017-06-12T16:21:18.044-07:00The HelperMy entire goal in life has been to be able to help people. That goal got a bit diverted, but I had a Come-To-Jesus moment and I've snapped out of my slump, which lasted nearly three years. Do you know how a three-year slump feels? Shitty. It feels shitty. I know other's have had longer slumps but this is all I could take. No more. No more... It nearly threw me over the edge. <br />
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Anyway, my goal was to help people. Unfortunately I was unable to to continue my education and get my PhD/PsyD because it was going to cost me $250,000. I didn't want to go that deep into debt, so I decided to enlist. We know that <a href="http://seekayride.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-new-book.html">story</a>.<br />
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Fuck my life.<br />
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But it's not all bad. I know what truly hitting rock bottom is. I've lost nearly everything. Because of that, I realized that I want to help people again. It sucks feeling so horrible, and if I can help someone not feel like crap, I'll do it. I'll try as hard as I can.<br />
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My dear friend, Asa, then told me about becoming a representative for <a href="http://ks25124.juiceplus.com/">JuicePlus+</a>. I looked into it and while I was a bit skeptical about the chews and capsules, I throughly enjoyed the bars and smoothie mixes. My biggest seller was the <a href="http://ks25124.towergarden.com/">Tower Garden</a>. If you're like me and live in a tiny ass apartment but love growing and having fresh vegetables, then this thing is spot on. I just got mine and it fits perfectly in my balcony.<br />
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How does this help people? First of all it's promoting growing fresh food. You know exactly what's being put into it. Gardening is also very therapeutic. While this isn't a typical garden, you still have to care for it. This thing made me smile even when I was just putting it together. It distracts you from the negativity that's going on around you.<br />
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I mean, heck, guys, I even have business cards and whatnot. It's like I'm official! Which I am... so... it's just a weird feeling, okay?<br />
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I'll be posting updates on my cute little garden. Stay tuned!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69SHzWb-HBPGEIXZ7YTa4xnoM-798j7peNmbPvJqgMFAYl8unvi9kPyHPe8Y03MLgHaoVyDucMMqjtuSoUlVSbqRf_oiRCmmRW9Rh8pGT8i74Nb7En3BgMzXNoOA6h1vl3KgZ_qM4s02q/s1600/IMG_9679.m4v" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-10739785195750163592017-06-11T02:24:00.002-07:002017-06-11T02:24:51.838-07:00The Lost GirlI think that one of the biggest disappointments in my life is that I mostly followed The American Dream. I moved to this country, went to school, graduated college. I couldn't find a job with my college degree and I found out that student loans don't help with bills or with getting a job. Because I didn't want to go into a deeper debt hole, I decided to skip furthering my education and didn't enroll into any Master's or PhD/PsyD programs. I was pretty much stuck with many other people who were well educated but couldn't find a job. I was completely lost. To help with that lostness, I decided to <a href="http://seekayride.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-new-book.html">join the military</a>.<br />
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Let me tell you, I'm even more lost and disappointed than when I was a jobless graduate. Which really sucks, because I was so excited when I wrote that entry back in 2014. A career change, a new life, a steady paycheck... everything seemed brighter. It's a damn shame it didn't turn out that way.<br />
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I think I'm even more lost because I lost pretty much everything since I've joined the military. I lost most of my friends and family, I lost my marriage, I lost my fitness, and I've nearly lost my motivation.<br />
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I lost myself. <br />
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I have always had a great support group. My friends back home are supportive, my cycling circle of friends are fun and encourage each other. In my current rate in the military, people stab each other in the back for absolutely no reason whatsoever. <br />
I told one of my supervisors that I was getting out of the military after I did my tour in San Diego. Whether that's true or not, who knows? If that command is anything like my current one then I will leave and happily never return, however, I've heard differently. When my supervisor asked me why I wanted to leave the military, the reasons where:<br />
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<li>I'm a 30-year old woman who is told where she can live and nearly got my home, animals, and bikes taken away from me because of my divorce, which, and I told him, this command caused</li>
<li>I'm a 30-year old woman who is told she cannot train because she <em>has to</em> do "group PT," which normally consists of chasing a fucking Frisbee. I'm training for the High Cascades 100; the training that I do for that race will improve me a lot more than fucking around with a bunch of people who have never been on a bike for more than 5 miles</li>
<li>The Navy caused my divorce, and yes, I have said this to my supervisor's face</li>
<li>It has caused more stress and weight gain than I like to admit</li>
<li>People stab each other in the back instead of empowering and encouraging each other</li>
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I think the most disappointing part about those bullet points is that when I said "People stab each other in the back," all my supervisors can say is, "Well, that's just the nature of the rate." Excuse me? So I should just accept that some 20-year old punk is blaming me for something for absolutely no reason and accept the consequence? Women couldn't vote in the early 1900s but there my ass is, voting. Why should people just accept that the rate is a bunch of backstabbers instead of changing that horrible environment? Sorry, but that just doesn't go well with me at all. In fact, it makes me sick that people let that shit slide. Change is good. Change the rate. Make better standards. Stop being stupid fucks!<br />
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I refuse to accept such a stupid, lame, and lazy excuse. <br />
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So, because I was tired of the environment and my lack of training, I took leave for 23 days, which I'll write about later because it was an amazing trip. I rode over 500 miles, got faster, happier, and healthier. <br />
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People in the military don't like it when you practice self-improvement.<br />
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I came back to an extremely negative environment, which I knew I would, but since I was with so many supportive and amazing people on my trip, I decided that since I can't change people at work, I'll change myself. So far, not much has gotten on my nerves on my first three days back. I only have 60 days left in Washington, and my goal is to make them as positive and happy as possible. Will it be hard? Oh, yes, but it'll keep me healthier, the weight loss will still be coming (14 pounds so far!), and I'll be the girl racer I once was. With my best friends and happy family.<br />
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<b>Always keep this in mind: Do no harm, take no shit. Keep your head down and your chin up. Uplift people, help them get to their potential. And fuck the haters, because they'll just deviate you from your goals.</b><br />
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Wish me luck! And good luck to you all!<br />
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-6758017071061378302017-03-23T23:24:00.000-07:002017-03-23T23:24:01.874-07:00The Mediocre AthleteI've never been an awesome athlete. I used to be a terrible jumper. My hand strength and grip are terrible. In Middle School, I couldn't even do a full sit up. I was just one of those kids who wasn't athletic. I mean, I was a pretty good softball player and I could jump for balls (I was the catcher), but that was after hours and hours of practice.<br />
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How terrible is it for a Mexican kid to not be able to jump? I completely killed the stereotype so when people made fun of me for "jumping the fence" I couldn't even laugh. If I had come into this country by hopping a fence, I'd probably still be in Mexico.<br />
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In fact, people still see me and they don't see an athlete. Most people at work didn't even know I could run as fast, or as far, as I do now, which took years and mile after mile, hundreds of miles, to be able to run as fast and as long as I do now. Hell, I'm a marathon runner now. I still suck at sit ups but at least I can do them now. People also don't know that I'm a cyclist. I used to be much better than I am now because I used to have the time to put in the miles. I was competitive at one point, but that also took thousands of miles to accomplish.<br />
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<i>The reality of me is that I'm such an untalented athlete that I have to train very hard to be mediocre at best. </i></div>
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But that lack of talent is what makes me work so hard. I work really hard because I know that I suck at a lot of things, so I train. </div>
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Trying to set goals when time gets taken away from you is hard. Trying to balance a time-consuming job, cycling/running training and racing, and trying to spend time with someone other than your cats can take its toll, especially when you want to snuggle and every cat rejects you. Even the needy one. I mean... what the fuck? Something has to be sacrificed. And I've been thinking a lot about what I want to give up or what I need to put on hold. At this point, I decided to put the Navy in the back burner and decided to get my fitness back. Fitness first, job that I'm not able to quit second. I'm still getting my quals, don't get me wrong, but I won't sacrifice sleep and training for it. At least not on purpose. Also, the more fit I am, the better I feel, and the better I'll most likely do my job... so, if we want an example of cognitive dissonance, there you have it.<br />
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I'm still pretty hurt about my cats rejecting some snuggles, though.<br />
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Starting this StrongMan shit adds to it. The stuff is so cool yet so hard to do. I see people at the gym killing it, and I can hardly lift a 115-pound atlas stone. But I'm able to do it more and more each day. I've gotten several PRs lately, which is pretty fucking cool. I think that the reason that I don't hit PRs more quickly is because I'm a living example of the self-fulfilling prophecy; I've been told and I believe that I'm such a mediocre athlete that I don't actually believe I can become a great athlete.<br />
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I'm ready to return to my mediocre competitiveness. So ready, that I signed up for a 100-mile mountain bike race in Bend, Oregon, and I'm debating on whether I'm going to sign up for the StrongMan meet at the gym I go to in June. Signing up for stupid shit is what keeps me going when shit keeps hitting the fan.<br />
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Here's to being mediocre!</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-84482469822937914982017-02-15T20:54:00.000-08:002017-02-15T20:54:05.187-08:00A Quick Update... Stay Tuned! Oh, life. What can I even say about you at this point?<br />
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I haven't posted since I did my my adventure race, which was in 2015. To say I've been neglecting this poor blog is an understatement. However, I can assure you that I have gotten very out of shape since that adventure race. It wasn't really by choice. I haven't been able to work out as much as I usually do due to work, but I think most of you know how much I bitch about that. I've been changing that recently, though. I joined a powerlifting/strong man gym, and after a while of working out at the place, I decided to pay one of the personal trainers to kick my ass twice a week. Legit giving her money to hurt me.<br />
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Okay, so it's a little better than that. I keep saying that I'm out of shape but I've ran two marathons and several half marathons since that adventure race, mostly without much training. Thankfully my "out of shape" is most people's in shape, at least for endurance bullshit. I mean, the marathons hurt but I finished them strong. How many people can say that want to run a marathon just because?</div>
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Not many, because they're not as stupid as I am. </div>
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I also have a bunch of cats now. It's pretty cool. They're mostly judgmental and they keep pushing everything off of the counters so Nova, my awesome dog, eats everything so he's super fat now. I keep calling one of them Tiny Satan because she's pretty much what I believe Satan would be in cat form. I think she'll eventually eat me if I sleep for too long.</div>
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I also got a divorce, so I believe my future will be a bunch of cats, but that's all I'm going to say about that subject because I'm still pretty sad about it. </div>
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I got eye surgery, too, so now I can see without glasses, and I also don't look like a <i>complete</i> jackass, which is what I look like when I wear glasses. So now when I wake up I no longer do the daily ritual of, "Where are my glasses? I need my glasses to see but I lost my glasses but I also need my glasses to be able to find my glasses." It was a stupid game and I'm glad I'm no longer playing it.<br />
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I still hate my current command because it's stupid and they way they run things is stupid and I don't like it. At all. I blame it for destroying the little family I had, but I've survived 2-1/2 years of that shit hole. I'm here for 6 more months. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now. And I can't wait to get out of Washington State. I'm so tired of the rain, and the gloom, and the rain. Everything is wet. Even the air is wet. What kind of fucking state is always fucking wet?</div>
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So that's what has been happening for the past couple of years. Not much, really. I'm now just more bitter and out of shape, but things seem to be turning around a little bit. I now can draw for the blog so I'm pretty excited about that. I have a few blog ideas so... keep your eyes peeled. My blog is finally coming back!</div>
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-20166232203193146822015-06-06T00:41:00.000-07:002015-06-06T00:51:27.998-07:00Equinox Traverse 2015 Adventure RaceOh man! I know, guys. I haven't written in a while. But... I have something to tell you now. I mean, my life has been pretty boring. I've been working 16+ our days in the Navy. I love it, though. I bitch a lot, but as my dad (a Sailor now civilian) told me, a bitching sailor is a happy sailor. ANYWAY.<br />
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I decided I was going to do a 44-hour Adventure Race in Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania. I had never done one and I didn't know what it was all about, so, naturally, in my style, decided to go for it.<br />
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I've always called myself an idiot. I know I can be less dumb than I probably put out to be, but I'm an idiot. Any junior enlisted sailor knows what gets you in trouble... Boredom. And I think that boredom is what brings the biggest idiot out in me.<br />
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This year hadn't been my year for racing. Boot Camp and "A" School got me pretty out of shape for the bike. I've struggled in races and I've only gotten on the podium for a second place on one time trial, albeit a hilly time trial, which hilly isn't my forte, but still. The fitness is coming back quickly but man, it sucks going from being top contender to going back to the bottom of the totem pole in the field.<br />
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Not too long ago I saw a teammate posted about needing a female for an adventure race. I later learned that "elite" teams in Adventure Racing need at least one female since not very many females take the beating. It makes sense. If you have a female than can take this brutality, it <i>should</i> be called an elite team. I didn't really know what Adventure Racing was and I knew I had good endurance, although it hasn't been my year, so I replied with something along the lines of "if my Chain of Command lets me." When I brought it up to my CoC, they were all for it and started to do the paperwork needed for me to go before I could even say, "HELL YEAH I'LL GO." They pretty much did that for me.<br />
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Oh... Oh, shit. They're letting me go. Okay then.<br />
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I was pretty much balls deep into this now. I got my plane ticket and my arrangements to go to this race. My husband was supportive, though understandably skeptic of it. Oh, I also got a bike box since I'ver never traveled with a bike via plane and I wanted to ride my Grammo Toa during this race, not rent some other bike.<br />
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Crap! I'm <i>balls deep</i> now.<br />
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So, I get to the air port, and it was nerve wracking because the key to my bike case broke and it was all messed up, so I thought my new beautiful Toa was going to get messed up on the ride over. It didn't, but that's all I could think of. Five hours later, I got my stuff and met up with my team leader, who is a seasoned and amazing Adventure Racer, and went to his home, where he and his family were nice enough to host me.<br />
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Okay, so the first day, my host, Mr. "Dash" decided to go on a ride to test out MTBs, probably mostly mine since I had to rebuild mine after flying. By the way, my Grammo was flawless on this pre-ride. I saw lots of cool stuff and even got a kick ass cupcake which was fucking delicious and totally within my diet.<br />
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We packed up and left for the race.<br />
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It was supposed to be about a three-hour ride. It wasn't, because there was so much traffic. Holy crap, what the hell? So much traffic there. Also, it's nothing like the West Coast. If you drive 20 minutes (maybe with limited traffic) on the West Coast, you get to the next town. In the East Coast, you get through like five state lines. It was crazy.<br />
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So like we got there and set up camp and met out teammate Dustin.<br />
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In the morning, I should have thrown up because I was so nervous but I didn't, and then we went to check in, and we got our stuff, and Dash did our map stuff. Dustin knew some of it, but I don't know maps at all, I know charts (FYI Maps = land, Charts = water... I'm Navy.. I don't know shit about maps), and we got our gear together and all of that and waited for the start time. It was cut close and Dash had his work cut out for him with the <strike>charts</strike> maps with plotting points and such, but he did it. I don't know how, but it's pretty much because he's awesome.<br />
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We started the race at 0900 on Saturday. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand we started.<br />
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And we started going up the mountain. I saw a few people in a single speed, which I though was crazy, going up the mountain, but up the mountain I was going about my 8 to 12-ish hour speed. It was pretty comfortable except the humidity. Holy shit... I was already sweating up a hill I normally am okay going up... it was <i>bad</i> and I became concerned. If it's this bad now, how bad is it going to be later? But then I decided that it's all fire roads and I can just grind it out. And I did.<br />
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We did got to some single track-ish section with some loose rock and my teammate Dustin crashed on it. I was right behind him and it was pretty bad, but he got back on and rode on. Against both Dash's and my instincts, we kept moving on. We probably should have stopped for a concussion assessment but... I don't know. We kept going because it was just an endo... and who doesn't endo on a race? I mean... seriously? I do at least twice every three races.<br />
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We got to the first transition area after some riding.<br />
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As we kept going through the race, my brain kept fucking with me.<br />
<i>Hey!</i> My brain would say.<br />
What? I'd answer.<br />
<i>No... What are you doing?</i><br />
What do you mean?<br />
<i>What are you doing? You've never done this? The most you've done is like.... 20 miles uphill. Give up. </i><br />
But why?<br />
<i>Because it's over your limit.</i><br />
Okay... I'll let my team leader know at the top of this hill.<br />
<i>I fucking hope so. You're too far and out of shape for this. Tell them!!</i><br />
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And we trekked. I thought that "trekking" was like.... the kind of trail running/hiking I do; pretty technical but you know, there's a trail. Nope. We went up shit I didn't even think we'd do and then went down it. I felt like I was going to die. Not only was the vegetation attacking and eating me alive, we were going down the fucking mountain and I couldn't find my footing at all. I was completely out of my element and I had no idea what to do... besides just keep going... or letting a bear eat me. That was also an option that came into my mind. </div>
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We got to some of the check points, one way the fuck up the mountain, and then we trekked down, in which we were going down some creek bed or I don't know what the hell and we had to climb down. Climb, not walk, not run, not slide, <i>climb.</i> I've never done anything like that before. </div>
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Yeah, we're way up there and we have to go back down... <i>all</i> the way down. This was only hour 6 of a 44-hour race. </div>
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I was struggling down the mountain. I was getting cut up because I didn't realize what "trekking" in Adventure Racing was, and I just couldn't figure out how to get my footing down the mountain whereas my teammates looked like experienced billy goats. And because it was such a struggle for me and at this point, though I didn't know, I had sprained my knee pretty badly... like super bad I'm still recovering from it, that we got to the Transition Area cutoff by mere seconds. I wish I was exaggerating but I wasn't. </div>
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We took a break in which I contemplated on whether I was dead or if this was a bad dream or something, ate food, got fresh water (we had gotten some water when we were climbing down the creek thing or whatever, so fresh water was awesome), changed back into bike stuff, and headed back out, which I don't know, man. </div>
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My knee was bothering me while I was riding but I figured it was just because I just climbed up and down some fucking mountain like a three-legged mentally challenged donkey. I fell back a bit and Dash asked my why I was falling back when we were going at an easy-ish pace. I didn't have an answer for that... I was wondering the same thing, so I just kept on pedaling. </div>
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We had more climbing, more this, more that, hills that kept kicking my ass. My brain wouldn't shut up, my knees were feeling weird, I was struggling on things I don't normally struggle with on the bike. Granted, I was 20 pounds heavier due to my pack, but I just didn't get why life was such a struggle. I was breaking and I didn't know what to do. My brain started to go into panic mode because I should have quit, but I kept going for some stupid reason, and I kept breaking more and more. </div>
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We rode through the night. I actually had a few hours where I felt pretty awesome. I was riding well, I had fun, the downhills were kick ass and my body was, "WE WORK NIGHTS I KNOW WHAT WORK AT NIGHT IS!!!" so I was a bit more in my element. We went to some checkpoints, strategically not going to the northern-most checkpoints, and grabbed the checkpoints we could while going to our next mandatory checkpoint, a 24-hour gas stating, which, unlike the first mandatory checkpoint, we reached five hours early. </div>
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This gas station had some awesome pizza roll things and I tried eating one. It was rough. My body just didn't want to cooperate, but I ate as much as I could, got some Gatorade (which I never drink but I think that shit saved me on this race), chatted with some other racers and found out that they, too, decided to skip the northern checkpoints, some were also struggling in the hills, and so on. We moved on.</div>
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It was cold as can be but we rode on through the night. I broke again, my brain wouldn't shut up, I was struggling. We got more check points, I kept struggling. I just didn't know what to do. I kept pedaling but I was so out of my comfort zone and my body's limits that I just didn't know what to do besides keep following my teammates. So I did just that. My knee was hurting a bit more but oh well. </div>
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We kept going through some fun trails and then they got super technical. They got to the point where we couldn't ride, and we hiked the hike-a-bike trails of hell. They were pretty bad. We got to the checkpoint we needed and kept going, hiking our bikes more because the trails were just not rideable. I was getting annoyed because, god dammit, bikes are for riding, not fucking hiking! But, whatever, I was still struggling and it sucked and I hated my life. </div>
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It became day time and then I realized that this wasn't a nightmare, it was real life. Shit. But some of the views were pretty sweet.</div>
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We kept going while getting checkpoint to our next mandatory checkpoints and transition area, which the cutoff was at 3p.m. We got lost once trying to find the trail, and had to hike a bike more. At this point my knee was absolutely killing me. Great. So my brain finally shuts the fuck up but now my knee is bitching about being hurt or something. Whatever. We got to our transition area and Dash had promised us a nice break, where I took about a 45-minute nap. We were late but we didn't get the penalty because so many teams missed the cutoff time due to the race promoter misjudging how long it would take to get there. Sweet, good news. The other good news is that the trekking in that area wasn't mandatory so we rode on to our next transition, which was the kayaking. WOO! </div>
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On the way to this transition area I literally had a mental, emotional, and physical breakdown and was literally crying because it sucked and I was hurting like crazy. I've never been so out of touch with my body and it was freaking me out so I broke down and had a total meltdown and tantrum. We sat a bit and took a break.</div>
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After that meltdown, we rode some more and went to the kayak portion, which was a ton of fun. 10 miles and 2-1/2 hours later, we were at our second to last mandatory transition area/checkpoint. Holy shit, I've made it this far. The race promotor was there and checked in on me, which I thought was super nice of him. My knee was so bad at this point that I fell when I went up the stairs to go to the bathrooms. </div>
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There were more checkpoints to get but none were mandatory. We decided to just walk the 8-ish miles back to the bikes and come back to finish the race. 16 miles and a severely sprained knee were in the way of me finishing this race. That's it. </div>
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Too bad that the walk got harder and harder. My knee wasn't doing well. No matter how much we walked we seemed to never get there. I actually don't even remember part of the walk because I fell asleep. Apparently I was walking so slow that Dash and Dustin were wondering what was going on (besides the hurt knee) and when they came back for me, that's when I woke up. I started walking faster then, the hallucinations from sleep deprivation were so trippy, too. </div>
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Then... there were lights. It was the little town, and Dash said it was about another half mile or so for the bikes. </div>
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We got to the bikes and we got ready. Luckily, because of my cycling background, my body just said, "Fuck you, brain. I know how to do this." I went into auto mode and I was able to hop on, tell myself it's a flat 8 miles... Go! My body knew what to do, though I was so hurt I wasn't able to do a full revolution with my right leg, but fuck it... we had 8 miles and I would be done. Officially done. We kept going and Dash stopped once because he was falling asleep on the bike. We took a little break and kept going. We TTd it back to the finish. </div>
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And there it was. Ohiopyle. We finished. I got off my bike by the last checkpoint so the race promotors could see I was with them but I sat on the grass. I was done. I went beyond my body's and mind's limits, but while many times my brain said I needed to quit and I told myself I needed to quit, I never actually told my teammates that I wanted to quit. It was done. </div>
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We headed back to the campground, showered, and passed the fuck out. </div>
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We went to the breakfast buffet the race provides for us and then the awards. We got 5th place... our 2/3rds novice team beat some very, very experienced teams. The race promoter even gave me a shout out because it was my first race. Normally, people don't make a 44-hour race that's <i>this</i> hard (apparently this race was pretty hard even for experienced adventure racers) their first race. It was done and over with and I was able to wear my Equinox Traverse shirt I got. </div>
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As far as aftermath, I didn't realize how badly I was hurt. My knee is just now, two weeks later, feeling better on rides. I was finally able to ride a few little hills on my mountain bike. Tomorrow, June 6th, I'll actually try to ride my road bike. I'll probably lose a couple or three toe nails, but so far they're being champs and hanging on. Throughout the race I mentioned that this type of racing was probably something I'll finish and cross off my bucket list, now I'm wanting to train to do another one, a shorter race, but I really want to do another Adventure Race. I'm changing my diet, trying to trim a few more pounds, and trying to figure out how to make my giant fucking quads smaller (the struggle of a sprinter). </div>
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I'm glad I had awesome teammates. I would have never made it without their support, and I'm so happy my team provided me with this opportunity. I went to a place I never thought I'd go visit, DC and places in Pennsylvania, and I went to a place mentally, emotionally, and physically that I never knew I'd ever reach. Overall, this was an amazing experience and if I can get through this, I can get through a lot. I'm part of an official finishing elite team! </div>
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I want to do another Adventure Race. </div>
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-25198971209454761532013-12-11T00:00:00.001-08:002013-12-11T00:00:48.135-08:00A New Book<i>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. </i><br />
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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>I get it</i>. We like to be able to predict things, though we thrive when we think of ourselves as unpredictable. Go figure, right?<br />
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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.<br />
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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... "<i>What!?</i> Why didn't you accept the program. <i>This is for your future.</i>"<br />
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But if I'm doing everything right, if I'm doing everything for my future correctly, then why am I so resentful?<br />
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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?<br />
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I didn't know.<br />
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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.<br />
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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."<br />
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Most of you know how this went.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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:<br />
1) If I hadn't talked to them in more than three months (I think this was generous), they were cut and,<br />
2) If the name on the screen brought up a bad memory, I cut them from my connections.<br />
It's been working wonderfully so far.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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I've Moved. The fuck. On.<br />
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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.<br />
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-18510809957031575312013-11-30T00:05:00.000-08:002013-11-30T18:26:53.831-08:00FriendsThere 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.<br>
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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... <i>something</i>. But some go wrong, and you have to learn when to weed those friendships out like an adult.<br>
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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>I don't have to keep these people as friends if I don't want to</i>. 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?<br>
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Here are the people I've recently been weeding out:<br>
<br>
<ul>
<li>The Seasonal Friend</li>
</ul>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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 <b>FUCK YOU</b> now. </blockquote>
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<ul>
<li>The Client</li>
</ul>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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. <b>SRY I WON'T BE YO' SHRINK NO MO'.</b> </blockquote>
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<ul>
<li>The gossip</li>
</ul>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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 <i>me</i>?" 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. <b>GO AWAY</b>, I say. </blockquote>
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<ul>
<li>The Partier</li>
</ul>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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, <b>NO STUPID FUN FOR ME</b>. </blockquote>
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<ul>
<li>The Joker</li>
</ul>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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.</blockquote>
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. <br>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-18385069552279969212013-10-28T23:00:00.000-07:002013-10-28T23:00:48.662-07:00The WolvesI 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>I should be fucking exhausted after all I do during the day.</i> 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<br />
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To going and shitting itself at night</div>
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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:</div>
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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 <i>need</i> 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. </div>
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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. </div>
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We need anger to fuel a passion. We need rejection to feed the <i>need</i> 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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-79525024201886319942013-10-21T22:50:00.000-07:002013-10-21T22:50:14.695-07:00That Special Place in HellHere's a list of people and things that deserve a special place in hell:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>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. </li>
<li>Those who think that men and women can't be "just friends."</li>
<li>People who give unsolicited advice. </li>
<li>People who can't stop talking about themselves. </li>
<li>Overly-political douches on Facebook or Twitter. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR STUPID OPINION GO AWAY JESUS CHRIST!</li>
<li>Spiders, aka NOPES. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Cheap vacuums. </li>
<li>Shedding season. </li>
<li>Not getting the channel that airs the San Jose Sharks games. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Tumbleweeds. </li>
<li>People who smoke while driving. </li>
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<ul>
<li>My neighbors because every single one of those fuckers smoke and the nasty smell gets in my apartment. Fuck. You. </li>
<li>Lifetime movies for being so bad and addictive. </li>
</ul>
Expect That Special Place in Hell Pt 2 soon. <ul>
</ul>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-42292631092908607762013-08-30T14:38:00.003-07:002013-08-30T14:38:52.674-07:00The 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?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKm4cGbN_XaA9Kh46pb8QLTKEIdZhYWFwnTBUAD13M3df5C-eJpRsev4u3KQ6ehhZVWreXnOCGfBnJ3yAZFksQIpYnT8s4zmGXthZthTOzOyrUubo3GFpfIj8Bisl70IbMg1JEBBm20aQD/s1600/navy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKm4cGbN_XaA9Kh46pb8QLTKEIdZhYWFwnTBUAD13M3df5C-eJpRsev4u3KQ6ehhZVWreXnOCGfBnJ3yAZFksQIpYnT8s4zmGXthZthTOzOyrUubo3GFpfIj8Bisl70IbMg1JEBBm20aQD/s320/navy1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <i>did</i> 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.<br />
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The patience was worth it.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Finally... I'm moving forward with my life.<br />
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-29728870465746303322013-07-07T23:03:00.002-07:002013-07-07T23:03:47.600-07:00Lodi CyclefestI 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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That picture also describes how I felt when I graduated college but that's a different story. </div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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I'm still hungry for that win at this race. It'll happen...</div>
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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!</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-46384167551426783602013-05-21T21:40:00.000-07:002013-05-21T21:40:48.805-07:00When The Glass BreaksYou 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.<br />
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There are reasons why people won't talk things over:<br />
1) They're too chicken shit and don't know how to approach the problem<br />
2) They don't care and don't want to approach the problem<br />
3) They actually want to move away from the friendship<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-55525245211139540312013-05-13T12:05:00.002-07:002013-05-13T12:05:44.475-07:00Boggs 8-hourI 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.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiInUSthn4v0RTL5X0MH9vkWPrFlmDjKteSAa6fljNJCyrHXylI3oxmZSnt763z4Wm1y4iCjIPHmvDnhvxw9W5_W57PMTyNkvgV7xNYbCUM6wmT8CNBVdqQPJiRwT10rMoRc8g_MLkkkqzN/s1600/boggs1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiInUSthn4v0RTL5X0MH9vkWPrFlmDjKteSAa6fljNJCyrHXylI3oxmZSnt763z4Wm1y4iCjIPHmvDnhvxw9W5_W57PMTyNkvgV7xNYbCUM6wmT8CNBVdqQPJiRwT10rMoRc8g_MLkkkqzN/s320/boggs1.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtRMRbqSM0cqoMLYx7yUUVOgXml-_z1LAexE1Ye1i39ky_saUoZH_SRPfhTl9pw3bm2DVGqLEGCBbKbYNfDPnv2dR5wlS8bPoQ4vMmzZZGxxNzFSW0Y_t5GtCK3IaOyUy1L35Yp0YLT5o/s1600/bogs2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtRMRbqSM0cqoMLYx7yUUVOgXml-_z1LAexE1Ye1i39ky_saUoZH_SRPfhTl9pw3bm2DVGqLEGCBbKbYNfDPnv2dR5wlS8bPoQ4vMmzZZGxxNzFSW0Y_t5GtCK3IaOyUy1L35Yp0YLT5o/s320/bogs2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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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.<br />
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And then it was a week away and I <i>really</i> 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."<br />
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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:<br />
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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.<br />
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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. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeJYlDCPOQNzJU47WPj5PPAMSbvGTEuUk7tiTBk_jFCt9zW6xaaxqG9LfVu7Auh8F1nvss37SUhqQTMLIWZVyuiCi00vsbM6k78xxY1hj0W_n9cQxMrgvJXFXtKNFgd6JKf-J9Hw66hmG/s1600/boggs8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeJYlDCPOQNzJU47WPj5PPAMSbvGTEuUk7tiTBk_jFCt9zW6xaaxqG9LfVu7Auh8F1nvss37SUhqQTMLIWZVyuiCi00vsbM6k78xxY1hj0W_n9cQxMrgvJXFXtKNFgd6JKf-J9Hw66hmG/s320/boggs8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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On race morning, I found this:</div>
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I'm not sure who put that <i>empty</i> 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. </div>
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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 <i>fell on me.</i></div>
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"Dude, get off!" I told him.</div>
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"Well if I could just pass you..."</div>
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"If you get the fuck off I'll be able to unclip and you can pass me. Get. Off." He was a prick.</div>
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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!?"</div>
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"I WAS HERE FIRST YOU JERK!" He went on his way. </div>
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As you can see, I don't let other riders bully me, whether it's on mountain or road.</div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-63820379114687973362013-04-29T11:57:00.000-07:002013-04-29T11:57:01.805-07:00My, How Things ChangeIf 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. <i>My</i> dream. I was to be a top equestrian... even my trainer had that vision for me.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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My, how things change.<br />
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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."<br />
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So I kept riding...<br />
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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.<br />
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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.</div>
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So I kept racing...<br />
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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.<br />
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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.Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-35649583638285611722013-04-26T11:41:00.000-07:002013-04-26T11:41:49.234-07:00Red Kite CriteriumRed 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.<br />
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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."</div>
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"I am, too! Do it with me!" My teammate Lauren said.</div>
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"Okay." And that's all the convincing I needed. I went over to register for the E3/4 race.<br />
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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."<br />
"Am I rider 278?" I asked Lauren, and she nodded. Ugh... So I was right; the ladies at registration fucked it up.<br />
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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.<br />
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Racing with men is gross. I don't know how many times I got sprayed with sweat. Ugh.<br />
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I'll be racing with the guys as future warm up again, thought. That was a lot of fun!</div>
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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 <strike>blue dots</strike> 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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-8218396286778384832013-04-20T21:40:00.000-07:002013-04-20T21:40:14.390-07:00Things That Are Not Okay 4<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">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.</span></blockquote>
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?<br />
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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.<br />
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This "Master Plan" has been in the works for a while, so I'm hoping it all works out.<br />
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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.<br />
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Oh yeah, I'm freakin' stoked!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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... stupid waiting game!Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-66973957323754083172013-04-16T12:42:00.002-07:002013-04-16T12:42:58.096-07:00Chico Stage RaceI really wanted to write something about the Top Sport Stage Race. There really isn't much to write about, though. I could sum that race up with this:<br />
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In case some of you didn't get it, my field had 13 Metromint ladies, so all I saw throughout the weekend were blue dots. They basically took control of the race and kept it that way. The only reason I finished the race was because I wanted the work out. I also found out that I can actually time trial. If I keep at it, I can actually become a pretty good time trialist. I was 7th overall in my first Stage Race.<br />
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Okay, on to the actual race I want to chat about...<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Chico Stage Race</span><br />
I was excited for this race. It looked like a good one for me. The road race has gravel in it, and we all know how I love to ride dirt, the TT is flat, and there's an L-shaped crit. Perfect! Thursday night I got sick... really sick. So there went that. I was also invited to guest ride for Red Peloton Racing. I was assigned to work for one of my teammates who had a great change of the GC. We all chatted and executed a plan for the road race.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Road Race</span><br />
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I felt like hell on Saturday (this feeling did not change throughout the weekend). I went to pick up my jerseys from my teammates and we chatted about our plan. Since I'm a confident rider when it comes to dirt and gravel, I was to lead Jen (our GC) out so she had the highest chance of winning the race. I've never ridden the race, so I anticipated the dirt too much. I wanted to ride it. As soon as I saw the hill with the gravel, I attacked and took Jen with me. About three quarters of the way through, I blew my last match. Claire Morgan from Folsom Bike took off and Jen followed. I went as fast as my legs could take me, which wasn't very fast. I blew my last match for my teammate, which was awesome, even though I was getting passed by people. Lauren and I rode through the finish line together, where I found out that Jen got second (Claire getting first). So the plan worked; Jen was in the GC.<br />
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As we were riding back to the truck, a bug decided to go under my sun glasses and bit right under my eye. At first I thought it was a bee but it wasn't, given that I didn't go into shock. That turned out to be awesome for the rest of the weekend, except without the awesome part.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Downtown Crit</span><br />
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Saturday night was terrible. I felt extremely sick, my head felt as if it were in a bubble, and my throat hurt. I woke up at 0400 and had a hard time sleeping. As I lied in bed, I thought, "I'll do the crit to help Jen and then I'm dropping out of the race." I had to meet my teammates at Starbucks at 0730, where I had some awesome coffee, chatted tactics, and I met more of the Red Peloton Racing members.<br />
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I got ready and warmed up a bit, which consisted of riding the course once, then putting on my arm warmers and shivering while watching the CAT 4 race. It was then time for our race. I took a lap just to get used to it with the pack, then Metromint attacked. Ugh. Okay. I answered the attack. After three laps, I was pretty warmed up and the games began. Metromint would attack, I countered. Attack, counter, attack, counter. I went for a prime, but failed on the first one since my legs weren't fully awake. That sprint woke them up a bit, though. There was a time bonus prime so we set Jen up to get it. She got it. Back to the front for me. Another prime, I got it. Kept it at the front. Metromint attacks, we go for a prime, I got the prime (a cool klean kanteen bottle!). Another time bonus prime and I tried to set Jen up for it, but I didn't think I did that awesome of a job. She still got it because she's got an awesome sprint.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafasnJgouyWEQieq6vEgCwhPaVIJM0TxlxMEm0JeRdBDcRbDSixKw8ZblELzhwPrdldj9Hal1SchFcxHDWu72nupahKutPOeOlIhdu_ijASsUQduqDzGzM9lxsRTa3mProRQ0riiSWpBH/s1600/chico4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafasnJgouyWEQieq6vEgCwhPaVIJM0TxlxMEm0JeRdBDcRbDSixKw8ZblELzhwPrdldj9Hal1SchFcxHDWu72nupahKutPOeOlIhdu_ijASsUQduqDzGzM9lxsRTa3mProRQ0riiSWpBH/s320/chico4.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />At three laps to go, I looked at Lauren and told her I was going to attack at two to go, and to make sure that Jen is behind me. Lauren said, "Uh... are you sure?" and I just nodded and got into position. Two to go, I get to the front. One to go and I'm still at the front. We go around corner one and I see that Aliya (Chico Corsa) is attacking, so I counter. Right as I was countering after corner one, I hear bikes hitting asphalt. I just said, "No no, don't look back" and kept going. I really hoped that none of my teammates were in the crash. Last turn and we went all out. I eventually burned my last match and Jen was able to out-sprint Metromint. We got her the win!<br />
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I was going to do a cool down lap when I saw Jen had crashed on corner one. Wait... didn't she win? I lead her out, didn't I? Who the hell did I lead out!? It turns out that she had won. When she and the Metromint rider got to the corner, the course marshals gave them mixed directions, telling one rider to go straight and the other to turn, to avoid the first crash on turn one. The mixed directions made them run into each other. Jen was okay. That corner was a hot mess during the race. Whomever set the course up really needs to rethink the placement of those cones.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Time Trial</span><br />
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I'm surprised I was able to perform the way I did in the crit, but I should have probably dropped out of the race after that. I was still sick and I was feeling very crappy. Boyfriend got my TT bike ready and I went over to my time trial. I felt like I was in a fish bowl. The helmet didn't help the "fish bowl" feeling.<br />
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My warm up was standing under the sun and moping about being sick.<br />
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Compared to last week's time trial, I was really slow. It hurt, my throat was hurting, my nose was dripping because of my cold, and I couldn't breathe. My body also hurt more than it should have. There were crosswinds and headwinds, never a tailwind, so that was pretty painful, too. I finished in an okay time, but still pretty slow for me. Oh well. I really just wanted to get this over with.<br />
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I rode back to the truck and hung out for a while. Saw Boyfriend race and cheered him on as much as I could, which wasn't much because my throat was hurting like no other. We waited for results and saw that Jen got 3rd in the GC! Woo! I apparently got 5th or 6th or whatever and I got a pint glass. A nice surprise.<br />
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I should have dropped out after the crit. I suffered the consequences of not doing so on Monday and so far, today, too. I feel like absolute crap. I'm trying to lay low because the Red Kite Criterium is this Sunday, so I want to recover so I can race that with my new teammates!<br />
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So, what did I learn?</div>
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1) Road races are <i>not</i> my thing.</div>
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2) I'm definitely a crit racer. I love crits. </div>
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3) I can become a decent time trialist if I practice.</div>
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4) It's awesome to race with a team!</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-20851015279653817812013-04-08T22:14:00.001-07:002013-04-08T22:14:31.954-07:00Clovis CriteriumI pretty much lied. I remember saying that March was going to be a pretty slow racing month for me. Originally, I was only going to race Cool, which I did, and that was it. But then I got this itch, as if a bad fungus was growing on me, and I really wanted to race a criterium.<br />
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I've been trying to race in my own category lately, so I've really been trying to only support races that promote a separate W3 race, or at least a race that picks them separately. I've mentioned that getting my ass handed to me over and over by the Pro/1s got really discouraging, so, why not support and race the races that offer a separate race?<br />
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On March 24th, I decided to race the Clovis Criterium. This race was far away. As in, near Fresno far. At first I didn't think it was that long of a drive because I have no sense of direction/driving time, but then I looked at my phone and Siri, being the bitch she is, told me it was a <i>three and a half</i> hour drive. I don't like to drive my truck that far because it's a diesel and it costs a lot and I'm cheap, so I posted on my Facebook and asked if anyone was going to this race and if they were willing to take my bike and me. I usually try to behave and not yell in my native language, and although I never promise being successful, I'm usually pretty well behaved. It's as if someone used a shock collar/spray bottle trained me when I was a child.<br />
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Eh, where was I?<br />
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Right, so this race was a 3/4 race. It was also 30 minutes long and there were hardly any women there for me to get points in the case that I placed. Actually, there weren't enough 3s for me to get any points in the miraculous case that I placed, but whatever, I still went and I raced. Boyfriend did, too. My friend, Ashley, who races SS cyclocross drove us there because she's awesome and I hope to convert her to racing asphalt soon.<br />
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Boyfriend raced the Masters 1/2/3 race and kicked everyone's butt. Then I raced, and things were super slow, so I broke away for a while. Got caught after some time, then I broke away with two other girls. The course is a basic rectangle so it's hard to get away, and my sprint has been crap lately so I wasn't able to sprint. After 30 minutes of rectangles, I come home with 3rd place. I won like $25 total that day, so I bought myself something nice (a Chipotle burrito).<br />
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It was a fun race. While it was a short racing day, I was happy to see Mary Maroon and support promoters who are helping the W3s keep their hopes up in racing. It gets very discouraging when we race with the Pro/1s right after upgrading. I know a lot of women who simply stop racing after racing as a W3 for a while because it's not worth it.<br />
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So, thank you, Back of Nowhere, for supporting women's racing so well. I'll hopefully be able to make the next race!<br />
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For those of you interested in these races, the next two in the series are on May 12th and 19th. Click <a href="http://www.backofnowhere.com/events/ccrs/">here</a> for more of their info/registration links.<br />
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-183893449893307402013-03-25T16:29:00.001-07:002013-03-25T16:42:09.893-07:00Things That Are Not Okay 3I'm going to start off by saying "UGH!!!" because this is getting ridiculous. It's all over Facebook and Twitter. I wonder when it'll get to other social media? I guess the other social media I use are Pinterest (dude all the <i>baking!</i>) and Instagram because I love to spam with pictures, though compared to some of the people I follow, I hardly post. Meh, whatever.<br />
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Seriously, guys. This has been so bad that it gets its own post. People are ridiculous. <br />
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I understand that people are passionate about stuff. I really do. I'm passionate about fitness, horses, and my career. What I <i>don't</i> understand is people who keep shoving their fucking beliefs down my throat and then tease/ridicule/make fun of me because I don't follow their batshit crazy ideologies. And yeah, I will use those colorful adjectives because I'm <i>tired</i> of bullshit. I'm too tired and I'm too focused on making myself a better future to deal with said bullshit.<br />
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You can be Catholic, Pagan, Mormon, or Atheist; I. Don't. Care. Just don't shove anything in any place of mine if I don't want to be whatever you are. I don't believe in anything and I don't believe in nothing (Yeah. Fuck you, grammar!). I'm just cruising along for the ride right now, trying to make the best life I can in this world because hey, I have one shot at this shit and I want to make the best of things. I may find religion in the future, I may not. I may start wearing a tinfoil hat in the future. I don't know what the future has in store for me as far as spirituality. I just don't know. Accept that and move on with <i>your</i> life.<br />
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Actually, I look pretty good in a tinfoil hat.</div>
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I also understand that Facebook is a personal thing. However, when I see people post the same shit over and over again, and then ridicule others because they don't follow said person's advice, I'm going to start using that awesome "hide" feature that Facebook made. Also, if you keep calling yourself a health/fitness guru and give people unwanted advice, you're a prick. And that's what people think of you when you keep posting the same thing over and over. Those who call themselves health and fitness gurus are the ones who do <i>not</i> look like health and fitness gurus. If following your advice will make me look like you... then no thanks.<br />
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Yeah? See how that made me look like a prick? That's how your posts make you look <i>FIFTEEN THOUSAND TIMES A DAY</i>. Quit being a judgmental asshole.<br />
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Also, what the fuck is this "eating clean"? I wash my vegetables before I eat them, too. Is that clean enough? Damn, guys. <i>Damn</i>. It's almost as if people don't want to eat/drink anything anymore because it's not part of this "clean" ideology. I will drink water from wherever the fuck I want. No, it is not the filtered tears of one-hundred virgins. I will eat whatever vegetable I want. No, it is not grown out of the ass of an organic (what a joke), vegetarian farmer. No, I will not drink your stupid smoothies that consist of only carbs and absolutely no protein because it's stupid and the body can't function on stupid carbs only. Yes, I will keep drinking a Go Girl and Monster Energy because that shit is delicious. Yes, I will keep putting a little bit of creamer in my coffee because it's also delicious.<br />
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I swear to baby Hey-sus, if anyone gives me any unwanted advice, teases me, or tells me I'm an unhealthy person (another joke), he/she will get a huge "FUCK OFF" and that's it. I'm healthier than most "health gurus" out there and I eat like a normal human being who doesn't stress out about trivial things. Right. Stress is unhealthy. Fuckas! I don't care about your stupid advice because it's stupid. I don't want it. If I wanted it, I would ask for it. Go away.<br />
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The assumption that people make about me is completely wrong, as well. I eat pretty much everything in moderation. I have two "free meals" a week. People assume that because I eat just about anything, I'm not following the advice of a dietitian, when in fact, I am. A dietitian, not a nutritionist. Because I'm following science, not the fucking internet.<br />
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For those of you who are wondering what the difference is, a dietitian is an expert who participates in research, must be licensed, and is regulated. Nutritionists are <i>not</i> regulated and have varying degrees in education; in other words, anyone can call him/herself a nutritionist.<br />
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I don't tell people that I'm seeing an expert. It's not anybody's business. It's mine. It's my diet, my health. And, looking at my recent race results and performance, my diet and training programs are going well together. Next time a cyclist laughs at me for incorporating lifting into my training, I'll just go ahead and laugh. Don't judge me on my eating and training habits; you have no idea how well-planned they actually are.<br />
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Seriously. Knock it off. You don't even get a shape to end this one.Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-59276447622274566992013-03-12T13:44:00.000-07:002013-03-12T13:54:30.382-07:00Cool Mountain Bike Race ReportI signed up for this race because I had nothing on the calendar for March. Also, Cool was my first mountain bike race outside of Prairie City. Dude! I'm growing up, with a big girl bike (Grammo Toa), doing a big girl race (Sport 20-29)! I was all excited and crap and then, on a frickin' rest week, I hurt my back. A rest week? Really!? I'm used to pain. My back is super crooked so I know what living in daily pain is, and I put my big girl bibs on and keep riding through it. However, this time, I wasn't able to move. I don't want to say that I can't fight through the pain because I'm becoming an old hen (okay I'm not an old hen), but damn... I've never actually been bed ridden due to this much back pain.<br />
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This race went from being exciting to being dreaded. I didn't want to do it. I didn't ride my bike for two consecutive days, and we all know that I don't do that. Not only did I not ride for two days, I didn't ride the two days prior to the race. So, I was all "bleh" physically and mentally. Why mentally? Because I'm the type of person who needs to do something active, whether it's the bike, lifting, or working, to keep from going completely insane, and we all know I'm not far from jumping that insanity line. Hello! Psychologist.<br />
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So, I dreaded the whole thing. In fact, I regretted registering for the race. I pretty much knew I was going to be DFL so I agreed to go to a hockey game after the race. I was to leave Folsom at 1400 to be at Stockton by 1600 for the start of the game. So, at least that was something to look forward to, right?</div>
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We lined up like cows at the starting line. When I got to my area, there were only two other girls. One who now races for CSUS, me, who used to race for CSUS, and the other girl who is from Santa Cruz who also talked about the racing at UCSC. It was like a collegiate reunion. </div>
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I'll put this out there: The Clydesdales started before us. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25vR08bXECsnEz_CZJn4KJRM-XpcFhvF07-aAAcdjPFZ8lUG5e4Zg5XTYgK74oRm2WnQlMvFxLkvwYiBPQUxYVoXaf-3pK2fUWzVycH2-yEdEjSyhg24aH4ckTuxFBKdYfY6k-a8SukNg/s1600/cool2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25vR08bXECsnEz_CZJn4KJRM-XpcFhvF07-aAAcdjPFZ8lUG5e4Zg5XTYgK74oRm2WnQlMvFxLkvwYiBPQUxYVoXaf-3pK2fUWzVycH2-yEdEjSyhg24aH4ckTuxFBKdYfY6k-a8SukNg/s320/cool2.jpg" width="180" /></a>So, we start, and we pretty much catch up to some of the Clydes right away. The first hill isn't really a hill. You can pretty much big ring/SFR it, buuuuut, people were getting off their bikes to walk up it. Because there was a sea of people who were walking it, I had to get off my bike and run. After that, I passed enough people to where I could get back on and tackle the next little hill (again, big ring). I was able to weave around enough people to get some speed going. I pretty much looked like a midget passing those big guys. </div>
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The downhills were easier than I remember, but I was also in race mode so I was taking more risks that I would on a regular ride, usually because my regular mountain bike rides are me going, "oohhhh pretty flower!" or "derp" or "MAN DOWN!" This race has a few sections that give me trouble. One of them is the really rocky downhill, but I kept remembering Asa saying that my bike <i>wants</i> to go over stuff, so I pretty much pointed and shot, and it worked. Yeah, I was totally going, "Yeah, buddy! You got over that one. Way to go!" I had to pump myself up, okay? The creek is a section that gives me issues, too. I can sometimes clear it, I sometimes can't. During the second lap, I didn't clear it, and some dude behind me says, "Why are you stopping!?"<br />
"I'm a chicken shit," I replied.<br />
"No. You're descending way too fast to be a chicken shit." Ha! Awesome. I'm used to being the slowest descender. Then again, I mostly ride mountain bikes with downhillers, ex-pro/CAT 1 downhillers, and people who give no shits when it comes do a downhill. I guess my slow is normal people's fast.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnaHs1mOAzxMsQxAXQEX6Kb9ruh4tac6Lxv2D6OVZPZ2fAnIEvRV64taPgnC6SyVABLJ12JTWTolWxAkBoYmFpnofpTDe20XBcYZGyhLEmyFY-y4n5zDb-R9dbb1ZTlUC4XAdNYbuNCQ_/s1600/cool4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnaHs1mOAzxMsQxAXQEX6Kb9ruh4tac6Lxv2D6OVZPZ2fAnIEvRV64taPgnC6SyVABLJ12JTWTolWxAkBoYmFpnofpTDe20XBcYZGyhLEmyFY-y4n5zDb-R9dbb1ZTlUC4XAdNYbuNCQ_/s320/cool4.jpg" width="180" /></a>The hills were fine. The second lap was harder because my back decided that it was going to tell me that it was definitely not happy. I big-ringed most of the hills, except for the really steep ones. I got stuck behind a fairly slow climber up one of the hills and I didn't know if I could climb that slow on the mountain bike; I was afraid I was going to tip over. Those SFRs that Coach has me do really help with everything, though. So, I pretty much SFR'ed and didn't tip over. Yay me. Or something.<br />
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I also rode over a lot more stuff than I did on the pre-ride. Things weren't as scary. The only time I messed up was when I dropped my chain and I had to run up the hill. It was going to be faster and easier to run up the hill than to try to fix the chain right there and to start on the hill, so screw it, I ran. All of that trail running I've been doing with Dog helped. Having to drag Dog's 55-pound ass up the hills made dragging my bike up the hill even easier.<br />
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I passed one of the Expert women during my second lap. She told me that I was the first Sport woman she has seen so I'm probably winning. That made me pretty happy since I didn't know which way was up at that point of the race. Mountain bike races are really confusing. You start in a sea of people and you don't know who is in what category. So, you know, I just kind of rode my bike and hoped I didn't die, or that my back didn't completely give out while I was in the middle of the course... or the creek. I didn't want to drown. The news that I was most likely in first gave me a little boost since my back was hurting really badly by mile fifteen. Not a happy camper. I shouldn't have said no to the beer hand-up.<br />
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Some dude and I rode together for the last couple of miles of the race and we joked around. Hey, if you're not having fun at a race, you're doing it wrong! He also told me that my teammate was doing awesome and was right on it. Mason ended up third in the SS Expert category!<br />
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Before the finish, there's a huge mud pit. You can either go through it, which people encourage, or you can go around. Every lap, you would hear people chant, "MUD! MUD! MUD!" and each time, I said, "Nope! Nope! Nope!" I went around, but I almost ate it anyway and I just said, "You got the same result!" I was super happy when I crossed the finish line. That was a tough race!<br />
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So, here's me after we found out I won. I have a no-drinking rule during race season. The exception to the rule is winning. I need some motivation. T-shirts and free race entries only get you so far.<br />
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And there's the podium shot. Haha look at how short I still look.</div>
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So, there it is. This race went from being dreaded to actually turning out to be a good race. My back hurt like crazy after the race but it happens. I couldn't <i>not</i> race this. I called my friends and said, "Oh hey, guys, I can't go to the hockey game because I freakin' won."</div>
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"You what? Really?"</div>
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"Yeah. So... I gotta wait for the podium. Have fun at the game." I apparently missed out on a good game, but they were all proud of me for not killing myself at this race and pulling off a "W."</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-90664701216158433322013-02-27T16:48:00.000-08:002013-02-27T20:32:34.443-08:00Snelling Race ReportI figured I should finally buck down and write my report for Snelling. I've been busy and stuff, okay?<br />
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This is the first year I've done Snelling. I've never raced it before because I hate driving, and this race is pretty much in bum fuck Egypt. I don't like driving my big ass truck to races 1) Because it's big, 2) I hate driving, and 3) Diesel is like $4.50 a gallon. The cool thing is that Boyfriend pretty much goes to all the races that I go to so I had a ride to the race. I decided to go. The not so cool thing is that we had 2 hours of sleep... I honestly wish I could say, "well, I just got a new dog and he kept me up all night because he's new and stuff" but nope, Dog is so well behaved and sleeps through the whole night that I couldn't put the blame on him.<br />
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Isn't he cute? Except he's a super good boy so he doesn't allow me to use him as a scapegoat when I feel like crap at races. </div>
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Anyway, this entry isn't about Dog, this entry is about <strike>that fucking wind tunnel</strike> Snelling. I'll write an entry about Dog another day, because he's seriously pretty awesome. </div>
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Anyway, we got to the race super early. Another crappy thing was that Boyfriend's race was in the first wave (start time 0810) and mine was in the second wave (start time 1225). Can you see where this sucked? Yeah, if we had been in the same wave, we would have had a pretty short day. We did not. I pretty much wanted to shoot myself because I just wanted to sleep.</div>
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I actually did try to sleep. Dog came along with us and after we saw the waves go off, we both went back to the car and tried to nap. Again, the bastard won't let me blame my lack of sleep on him because, even though there was a lot of commotion at the race, <i>he took a huge nap</i> while I just wanted to hit my head on the asphalt until I passed out. Seriously guys, not a peep out of Dog. </div>
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Boyfriend came back and told me how windy the course was. I originally decided to race Snelling this year because everyone tells me that this is my type of course. I can power through the course and the rollers are the type of rollers I can easily power up. There are some rough roads but I love riding on shitty roads, so that isn't a problem for me.<br />
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I slowly got ready. My warm up was huddling in the car until it was time to go line up.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIGx-HqV8Z-_eqfCm4dI8gk9cy3tBWu9ivOJ9LsogHRp-n8jRs4D0-JmbIQrn3oYjBZPFzfWe0BOSCn8LQeLFQSskCyk22P5Pxgw1PeEsU8bbWEwWLqs5xAm1yo0RP3ocxc1zd2M2iplV/s1600/snelling3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIGx-HqV8Z-_eqfCm4dI8gk9cy3tBWu9ivOJ9LsogHRp-n8jRs4D0-JmbIQrn3oYjBZPFzfWe0BOSCn8LQeLFQSskCyk22P5Pxgw1PeEsU8bbWEwWLqs5xAm1yo0RP3ocxc1zd2M2iplV/s400/snelling3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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We had a three-mile neutral start, which were the longest three miles of my life. I pretty much just wanted to drop dead, and the ref kept going from 20mph to 10mph on the downhill so we were all slamming our brakes, so I thought my dream of dropping dead was going to come true. </div>
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The race was pretty stupid. It was windy and stupid. Have I said it was stupid yet? I was so freakin' tired throughout the whole damn thing. We got neutralized so many times (the ref would, again, slam his brakes and we'd all have to grab ours), that I pretty much wanted to cut someone. Don't get me wrong, the race was going well for me, but those stupid little moments made me <strike>want to</strike> say a profanity. </div>
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There were attacks and a bunch more attacks. We dropped a <i>lot</i> of women on an attack on the crappy road on one of the laps. The last two laps were probably the most eventful laps. Some ladies kept doing bad moves, almost causing a bunch of crashes, and there was a lot of bumping. One chick bumped into me quite a few times. It didn't really phase me. I don't know if I'm just getting used to the physical part of the sport or if I was too tired to give a crap. </div>
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More bumping, more near crashes, more tumbleweeds nearly wiping some of us out (those things were huge). On the last lap, we were all getting situated for the final sprint. Metromint attacks. We chase. We keep chasing. On the last road before we turn for the finish, we knew she had the win. I was second into the turn for the final sprint, chasing Folsom Bike's Claire Morgan. Chase, not catching her, chase some more, getting closer, <i>sprint</i>, and then it happened: my water bottle decided to jump ship into my crank. I hesitated since I didn't know what had happened to my crank at first, once I realized it, I didn't have it in me to recover back into the sprint. Once you hesitate, you know it's over. So, I just rolled through. I figured I got top 15 or something. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by the awesome <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DaleTapleyPhotography">Dale Tapley</a>.</td></tr>
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I got back to the car after another grueling three miles, in which I reflected on life and concluded that it was stupid, but I still had to ride back to the car. My left foot had that pain that it usually gets after a long road race, which I've now fixed by going back to my old road shoes. My foot has been very happy since the switch back. I passed out on the way home. I don't even remember falling asleep. I'm glad Boyfriend was driving.<br />
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I don't know if I'll do this race again. Actually, I will as long as I don't have to be there for both waves again. It's an awesome course for me. The wind was absolutely brutal. We would sometimes get stuck doing 12mph because the wind was just that freakin' strong. Anyway, whatever. When I got home, I decided to check my results to see where I actually placed, and I got 9th. So, two hours of sleep and some bad luck with an "ABORT MISSION!!!" water bottle and I was able to get 9th. I'll take it. I wonder how I would have done if I were fresh as a daisy and my water bottle didn't decide to commit suicide. I guess I could see next year... eh? EH? Meh.</div>
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March doesn't have much racing for me. I might do the Cool Mountain Bike race on the 9th, though. I'm 95% sure that it's going to happen. So wait for a report of "LOL I CRASHED LIKE FIVE TIMES!" and "IT WAS SO MUCH FUN!" in a couple or so weeks. </div>
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Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-56303889189246971492013-02-18T19:16:00.000-08:002013-02-18T19:19:52.468-08:00The Copper Town Circuit Race ReportThis past Sunday (February 17th) I raced two races on the same day. I wasn't going to race Copper Town since I've been racing pretty much every weekend in February and I don't want to burn out, but this race had a Women's 3 only field <i>and </i>a Women's P/1/2/3. I don't get much of a chance to race twice... I've only been able to do it once before at the Reno collegiate race because they had a regular category and a collegiate category at the crit. So, I decided to race both races on Sunday.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiCXC_ygR5UehXQpQqv01-W2rjNGRieaT8zRkQZOpeaF07sRdYhgI2WlXFg2FM5KgFxqa5QyF8YotMfhvu_hl-mtNu1cO1nB_t_CWx9_rRwZLGlMaUNvVrYIgK0sasKPPEmoYgw94S5hS/s1600/cp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiCXC_ygR5UehXQpQqv01-W2rjNGRieaT8zRkQZOpeaF07sRdYhgI2WlXFg2FM5KgFxqa5QyF8YotMfhvu_hl-mtNu1cO1nB_t_CWx9_rRwZLGlMaUNvVrYIgK0sasKPPEmoYgw94S5hS/s320/cp1.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cycle-Masters-of-Turlock/169895971611">Cycle Masters of Turlock</a></td></tr>
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The first race, the Women's 3, was 60 minutes long. The course is pretty flat. You start to feel the rollers after a while but they're the kind of rollers that a person like me (a big ass), can power up in the big ring. I was racing my Grammo 580s for the first time, too, so that was pretty exciting. The field had a bunch of girls I've either raced with in the 4s or I have raced with in collegiate. I <i>know</i> how awesome the collegiate girls are and how strong they are, so I knew it would be a fairly hard race to place in. </div>
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We had 11 girls total in the W3 race. C'mon, ladies! A race <i>finally</i> gives us our own field and we don't support it. Frustrating. </div>
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Anyway, the race really wasn't that exciting. It was all smooth, some attacks, which I thought I was going to die in. After a couple of laps, though, I could tell who would charge and when the attacks were going to come. I'm getting better at this whole reading the race thing. I decided to do an attack, which I completely regretted but I didn't get dropped, so... go me... or something. </div>
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Okay, so the same thing happened over and over in the circuit race. Attack, respond, attack, respond. No one broke away in this race. The section through town was fun. The wind kept picking up throughout the race, too. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZlfT2DohymB6_P6RInxhWJNw4pQz9xbPBVCCGOUq1EUrjVounD4766WbRDxGUzI8tP-X7kKbaWAmWqhAgH8O2ldfcGNhXijeePx8SN9LVbDguerZDBQAZscCVyzfK1kvbl3xzPiCz9_xn/s1600/cp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZlfT2DohymB6_P6RInxhWJNw4pQz9xbPBVCCGOUq1EUrjVounD4766WbRDxGUzI8tP-X7kKbaWAmWqhAgH8O2ldfcGNhXijeePx8SN9LVbDguerZDBQAZscCVyzfK1kvbl3xzPiCz9_xn/s320/cp2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cycle-Masters-of-Turlock/169895971611">Cycle Masters of Turlock</a></td></tr>
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On the last lap, we all started to get into position after the U-turn. This time, no attacks happened after the turn, which is one of the places that were pretty obvious attack points. We all just settled. The 2km point come, no one attacked, we really just settled in the group. 1km... attack. I got on the right side of the pack and answered the attack at about 300 meters. 200 meters and UC Davis, Team TIBCO II, Chico Corsa Cycling Club, Reno Wheelmen, and I duked it out. Team TIBCO II ran out of fumes, and UC Davis had a strong sprint. I rolled in second place.</div>
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I was socked. I couldn't believe I had enough of a sprint to out-sprint some seriously strong riders in that field, but I was able to do it! My coach and I haven't been working on my sprint since I'm still in a building phase. Hopefully this means that my sprint has improved a bit!</div>
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I won a t-shirt and $30 off for the Top Sport Stage Race in April... which I think I want to do. Now to find a TT bike...<br />
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Oh, by the way, I totally texted my coach about my podium. I was also hopping up and down like a little kid. Boyfriend found this amusing... I'm sure every one around us did as well. </div>
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My legs were shot after that race, but I still had the Women's P/1/2/3 race to do, which was 90 minutes long. I hung out with Boyfriend and a bunch of other cyclists out there, goofed off, and got ready for the second race. </div>
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There were some strong riders in the field. I knew I wasn't going to last very long in that race since my legs were completely shot and I haven't had much experience in racing a second race on the same day, but I started. I didn't attack, I didn't try to pull any moves, I didn't do anything. I was basically this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4lksJmymDqF7KX_8qQswVjCkZWm1RvQWz4-1KYQYJkEGxQZhFsMZDcwb7WRFfSKvwG-F7jj_OOiRuhl1iIPvpq3fRXRK3_NsFiv5jL3KpTKFx5tYLBYRVCAHpdzr3xf3Tqu3QYsfL4ZE/s1600/cp3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4lksJmymDqF7KX_8qQswVjCkZWm1RvQWz4-1KYQYJkEGxQZhFsMZDcwb7WRFfSKvwG-F7jj_OOiRuhl1iIPvpq3fRXRK3_NsFiv5jL3KpTKFx5tYLBYRVCAHpdzr3xf3Tqu3QYsfL4ZE/s320/cp3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I lasted a third of the race with the leaders, because when a Brazilian CAT 1 rider attacked, I pretty much just went... "meh" and didn't even attempt to respond. I got dropped with a couple of other CAT 3s and we rode the rest of the race together. So, I got my ass handed to me. My right calf threatened to cramp, I was tired, and sleepy... and sleepy. I was happy the race was over when it was over. My left foot hurt so much, as if it had a stress fracture on it, that I had to sit in the car for a while before I could even think about moving it. Actually, I sat in the trunk but whatever. It's the second time that that has happened... I wonder what's up. </div>
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No, really. When she attacked, I was pretty much like this guy:</div>
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I could have quit the race. I thought about it. Did finishing second to last in the WP/1/2/3 race make me physically stronger? Nope. Did it make me mentally stronger? Hell yes. It's a mind game. I know I can fight through the pain. It's doable. I went over a hurdle. </div>
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The race was good to me. Now I know that I'm not a total failure in the 3s. Hopefully I'll do well in Snelling this Saturday, another Women's 3 race!</div>
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Thanks to everyone who congratulated me on my podium and on my hard work. It means a lot to me and it gets me even more stoked for races. You guys definitely inspire me to become a better athlete. Thank you, thank you, thank you!</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367336322612742866.post-53409229693007067092013-02-11T23:47:00.001-08:002013-02-11T23:48:40.020-08:00Double Header Weekend Race ReportI raced in two criteriums this past weekend, the Bicycles Plus Winter Criterium and the Cherry Pie Criterium. Both races were a Women's P/1/2/3, so I basically raced just to survive. It's tough getting used to racing this new category...<br />
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Bicycles Plus Winter Criterium</h2>
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The crit took place on February 9th. It's not a technical course at all and it's pretty much a D-shape... or a stupid looking horseshoe, whichever you prefer. It's fast, so the field tends to stay together. I usually do well in this criterium, except that this time, I'm against the P/1/2s. When I looked at the start list the night before and saw that Marley Smith was signed up, I pretty much did this: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmaDHfnzK73AeA2IHsgr_xMg_Z1qJ3w56V5nS9WUwFJwtUSKFBbvmKbe-_X7JKGo-e_2oP9PLirzqJ9R7aznyJ_X-WGGHQqH3N8GTMptbYjASq1kysaZ3RnST5C8dIDnWmvoLEAdwa7W0/s1600/bpcp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmaDHfnzK73AeA2IHsgr_xMg_Z1qJ3w56V5nS9WUwFJwtUSKFBbvmKbe-_X7JKGo-e_2oP9PLirzqJ9R7aznyJ_X-WGGHQqH3N8GTMptbYjASq1kysaZ3RnST5C8dIDnWmvoLEAdwa7W0/s320/bpcp1.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>
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Eh, oh well. The race was pretty uneventful, except that some chick from Folsom Bike kept bumping into me even after I told her to quit it. I get that in a crit we're going to bump into each other, but four or five times is a bit excessive. So... stop. I was pretty annoyed, but then I got over it.</div>
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Marley Smith and one of her teammates broke away. She always pulls that move on that course and she gets away every time. A couple of teams had the numbers to pull them back in, but no one really did any work. I tried a couple of times and failed, because I'm still not fast at all compared to those girls, so eh... I just tried to survive. Didn't sprint at the end because the race was pretty much over. It was a fast race. </div>
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The Cherry Pie Criterium</h2>
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The next day I decided to race Cherry Pie for some stupid reason. I had never raced that crit before, so I thought it would be fun or something. There were about seven or eight pros in my field when I checked the registered riders the night before, so I figured I'd get dropped on the second or third lap since there's a hill. I basically felt how this little guy looks when I lined up with a bunch of pros:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rWN_N7GArh1fvAjeRfHMjhhf5NFtAATAHXR-Z7OUuaDhuL2FxAj_iEtvIoHibunyClU9aB_h0gnnMR0P3ojxNMvRTjZz-E1Td32vz7PCGWde6zPY003YSB8TFyn4hPv8j4RYy1rJ9hFM/s1600/bpcp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rWN_N7GArh1fvAjeRfHMjhhf5NFtAATAHXR-Z7OUuaDhuL2FxAj_iEtvIoHibunyClU9aB_h0gnnMR0P3ojxNMvRTjZz-E1Td32vz7PCGWde6zPY003YSB8TFyn4hPv8j4RYy1rJ9hFM/s640/bpcp2.jpg" width="456" /></a></div>
As the race started, I kept up with the field, with the surges, and so on. The hill began to hurt. It's not a big or long (that's what she said) hill, but when you have a big ass while trying to keep up with freakin' pros, it hurts. I eventually got dropped, 25 minutes into the race, with two other riders. Why did I get dropped? For some stupid, stupid reason, I touched my brakes before the 90-degree turn at the bottom of the hill. I didn't even <i>grab</i> brake, I just touched, and that was enough. </div>
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Bad touch. </div>
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Oh well. Lesson learned. Other riders dropped out, but three of us worked together. That damn hill started to hurt after some time. To add insult to injury, there was a headwind on the hill, too, so the hill went from this:<br />
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To this:<br />
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I completely got my ass handed to me, but I was happy. Why? Because I learned how to ride a bike almost five years ago, started racing, and now I'm able to keep up with some of the fastest women out there for a good chunk of the race. Who would have thunk? While it's hard going from being one of the top dogs in the Women's 4 to being low man on the totem pole in the Women's P/1/2/3, I'm happy that I'm improving every single race. I've only done three P/1/2/3 races, and each one gets better and better.<br />
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After the race, I got on the trainer and spun for an hour while the men's P/1/2 race was going. I hung out with Boyfriend, who, by the way, got fourth in his race (Master's 1/2/3). So close to that cherry pie... yet so far. We cheered my CAT 2 teammate, Kevin, in the race. After that, we went home and I ate soup.<br />
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And that's that. My next race has a Women's 3 category. Let's see how I place in a group of women who are strictly 3s.</div>
Miss Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247564716986920302noreply@blogger.com0