WCCC Conference Race Report

Probably not super exciting for everyone else. But I had fun writing it (although it didn't go as I planned). Anyway, the jest of the matter is the conference was awesome! My team is awesome! Cycling is awesome! Yay bike racing!

Day 1: 16:30 All packed up and ready for battle, the remaining troops assembled and loaded into the trucks that would take us to the front lines, the final crossing, the point of no return. For some, it had been long, demanding, and brutal fight that had whittled out the strong from the weak. While others, who had joined the ranks later, had felt similar early blows from different opponents. However, they were there: together; they had made it and as the trucks pulled away from home, there was no turning back.

It was a long haul. Legs cramped, eyes blurred, and heads nodded as we followed the gray clouds into the eye of the storm. But Spencer, the only male to make it in our unit trudged on, unbeknownst to what was awaiting us. Upon reaching our quarters for the night, our fearless leaders settled matters with overly-enthusiastic nightman while Martina and I watched the car. Soon, the rest of the brigade filed in. Tired from the long drive and preparing for the battles ahead, people were quiet and slowly slipped into the respectable, mirror-filled, light-blinking rooms.

Day 2: 06:00 After a night, of stuffy-hot, restless sleeping, the first few trekked downstairs. The dark, foreboding sky lured over our heads as we fueled up on bitter, muddy coffee, stale bagels, and mushy oats. As we drove out to the Piacines, we strayed from the path in order to deter the enemy from following our tracks. The battle began promptly at 10:30 as the first of our men headed out along the road.

After a brief and frightening asthma attack, our unit headed out accompanied by my loud (obnoxious) panting for the first 10 miles. It was a smooth start: girls from other units attempted to foil our plans with their horrendous bike-handling skills but we fought on. As we slowly climbed Panoche Pass, we saw stragglers from the men’s groups laid to waste on the side of the road. We held together until mile 10 when two girls set off on an uphill attack. We chased and our group of twenty-five narrowed down to 9.

When we cut the two attackers (both from UCSD), they tried to escape again but, alas, we pulled them back into our group. The girls from Cal and I stayed on the offensive: pulling our way up the hill and amping up the pace to try and remove any free-loaders. We were unsuccessful. The horrendous pink kit could not be removed from our lines. She wouldn’t pull, she wouldn’t do work, she wouldn’t even let you back into the pace line. At the turn-around, we saw those chasing us and, I was pretty certain Martina was going to get back on. Jessica and Erika looked pretty happy as they finished the climb no longer amidst the crazy Cal riders.

It was smooth sailing until the last two kilometers when people realized the end was near. At 1 km, pink kit tried to make a move. I marked her (bad idea) and she faltered. With .4km left, the other girls charged. Legs burning, bikes blurring, we dashed across the white line with StanFUrd as the victor.

15:30 We had a problem; Danny, our only hope for victory, went down and needs to go to the hospital. So as usual, our fearless girls unit (plus Spencer minus me) are called into action. From what I gather, it was a long ER visit. In the San Benito Hospital, x-rays were taken, wounds were stitched up, x-rays were looked at, and wounds were unstitched and restitched taking a total of 7 hours. (side note: Kings won just for Danny!)

Day 3  06:00 The day started the same but without the long drive. The clouds were ominous and looking as though they were ready to bust. On trainers, we strategized and prepared for the 5-corner, flat criterium. Twenty-five women, the largest group so far this year, would start the race. It was fast. From the beginning, Cal’s giant squad made attack after attack. Martina, with her experience, pursued and commanded pursuit of the girls. But alas, the inability to corner by some of the girls and having the horrible luck of getting stuck behind them, pushed some of us to the back. Martina held strong. Pink attacked and Martina was on it. One lap to go, she was right there. 200 meters, Martina was not faltering…. VICTORY!!!

Grocery Store Rant

Every day I wake up thankful to be from California. It's an amazing state! (Besides some political issues which we won't get into today.) There's not very many other places where people are so friendly, the food is fresh and local (for the most part), the weather is gorgeous, and you can train outdoors year round! Not to mention the fact that I am a college student living 3 blocks from the Santa Barbara coast! 

So then, what's the problem. Life is paradise right? Well, essentially, except I went somewhere this weekend that really bothered me. While in Irvine, for a cycling race, we visited our fair-share of grocery stores. Because, as hungry and active college students, our minds think about two things: bikes and food. We went into the typical grocery stores, Albertsons and Whole Foods, which you take for what they are. They don't hide anything or pretend to be anything they're not. Albertsons is sterile and white and uninviting and Whole Foods is pretentious, yuppy, and healthy. 

But then we went to one more: Henry's Farmers Market. Because registration for our individual time trial race was stationed in the parking lot of the strip mall, food shopping was unavoidable. However, we originally just went into the market to use the restroom and change into our kits. Upon first entering, I was so excited! Bulk bins, produce, produce, and produce! It looked like my ideal kind of market. I was stoked for lunch and thought this would be a healthy alternative to whatever else was around. In the hour leading up to my race, all I could think about was food (I was getting kind of hungry). While I raced, I thought about not keeling over and killing the race (I placed third). But after I finished, my thoughts immediately returned to, guess what, food! 

Exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, my teammates and I ventured again into the market. This time, however, with one goal: buy lunch. As a fruit and veggies lover, I was immediately attracted to a giant display of strawberries (score!). Everything looked, as the name implied with farmers market, organic. However, I was sorely mistaken. The strawberries, although cheap, were not organic. They didn't even look fresh. I had to pick through to find some that looked descent. In fact, the organic produce section was small and depressing. So, against my better judgement I settled on the conventional strawberries. Turns out, it was a bad investment; they tasted like cardboard. 

I then ventured around the rest of the store with the hopes of finding a good salad bar or at least some sort of prepared salad. No such luck. Almost everything was conventional. In fact, what really took the cake was the fact that the deli case had a broccoli salad made with (you guessed it) HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP! Really now, this is supposed to be fresh salad and you put HFCS in it! Are you joking me! My hopes for lunch were ruined! I couldn't believe it! What kind of store puts HFCS in deli case salads? Shame on Henry's Farmers Market. 

So today, after our criterium, I was amazingly happy to step into the giant pretentious Whole Foods. No HFCS anywhere to be found. Not to mention that its salad bar was completely organic! So even though I'm still mad at Whole Foods for giving in to GMO's they're the best alternative as far as main stream market's go. Of course, I will pick coops and independents whenever possible, but it's not always an option. 

I don't mean to preach, and I'm not going to start lecturing about the need to change the food system right now. However, I just really was depressed how misleading that supermarket was. Well done America, you are amazing at false-marketing. Anyway, the important thing is: be smart with your food choices. Know what you are buying because, remember, you are what you eat. 

Scribbles on Paper

I go through phases. Sometimes, all I want to do is write and sometimes, the last thing I want to do is write. Most of the time, however, it's not because I don't like writing or I don't have something to say, but because I don't know how to write my thoughts. I'll start the dialogue in my head of what I want to say and grab a pen and paper to start writing and then you know what happens?
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Absolutely nothing! I stare and stare and stare at the paper thinking that if I look long enough, something will magically appear. But alas my inability to write leaves the page blank. I question if anything I am thinking is worth writing down and if so, can what I write actually convey the true message? So I stop and let my thoughts get all jumbled in my mind.

I love writing, it's a great release from every day life. If you know me, you know I have issues conveying myself through spoken words. Writing, however, is the opposite (at least when I can convince myself to write). I can create a steady, coherent stream of thought instead of just a puddle of random ideas.

So I guess, I'm going to use this space to make a promise to myself. It won't be as dedicated of a promosie as others who have done the same thing but it will be enough for me. So here it is: starting today, the 12 of April 2011, I will write at least once a week. Meaning that, since today is Tuesday, I have to have a new post written each week by Tuesday 8 p.m.

There it's out. No turning back.