How To Come In Last, Dead Last

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures3 Comments

Frank and I rode cyclocross this morning.  As I’ve mentioned before I am horrible at cyclocross.  When I do cyclocross, I come in last, dead last.  And yet, I love cyclocross.  It is so much fun.  No, really, it is.  So, I thought I’d take a moment to impart to you the tricks of coming in dead as a doornail last.

1.  Wear lots of layers to stay warm.  On the top layer, make sure you wear a jersey that instantly lowers expectations of your cycling skills or lack thereof.  I like to wear my Fat Cyclist jerseys because people think, “Oh, she’s a fat cyclist.  She’s not going to be very fast or very good.”  Under no circumstances should you wear a jersey emblazoned with words like speedy, racing, or any other macho phrases.  It’s better to give people a realistic picture right from the get go.

2.  When encountering sections that are too technical, too scary, or otherwise icky get off your bike and walk.  I walked a muddy the first time and rode through it the second.  The second time was way more fun.  By avoiding technical, scary, or icky sections you’ll also avoid doing an endo over the handlebars.  My friend, Nick, did not adhere to this tip and ended up landing on his noggin and cracking his helmet.  (His crash did make a really super photo.)  Instead of crashing on the dangerous sections, save your falls for perfectly flat, slightly muddy surfaces.  You’ll look like an idiot when you lay your bike down, but other than a few bruises and a scratched up ego, you’ll survive unscathed.  Honestly, I think this was just Frank’s way of showing me who the boss is.

3.  Ride the track by braille.  Go slow enough that your glasses will be perpetually fogged.  This will make the track impossible to see.  Instead you’ll know you’ve veered off the track when you start running over large bushes.  When you hit a bush, turn your wheel the other way until you hit another bush.  Or a tree.  Or the caution tape marking the course.  Riding by braille is way more exciting than actually seeing where you’re going.

4.  Ride slow enough that you get lapped by the leaders.  Better yet, ride slow enough that you get lapped by everyone.  Including the kids.  If possible, ride slow enough that the leaders lap you twice.  That way when time is up, you will have only completed two laps and everyone else will have completed three or four.  They will finish looking red-faced, muddy, sweaty, completely pooped, and ready to hurl.  You will finish red-faced, muddy, sweaty, but with plenty of energy to drink a slug of hot cocoa and scarf a banana or two.

5.  This tip comes from Mrs. Bike Mechanic, Amy.  She is way faster than I am, but I thought this was a good tip anyway.  In the morning when you’re carefully pulling on layer after layer of Spandex, do not put your toe warmers on.  That way when you’re standing around waiting for the race to start, your toes can freeze so completely that they will be void of all sensation.  When the race starts, you won’t be able to tell whether your feet have connected with your pedals or not.  This will allow you to pedal the air a few times without actually moving your bike forward.  Genius, Amy.

6.  Be a martyr.  At the end of the race, ask people how their race was.  Hopefully they’ll answer “Well, I didn’t come in last.”  Then you can swoop in and say “That’s because I came in last.  You’re welcome.”  It’s important to let others in the race know how much you’ve sacrificed on their behalf.  Only a benevolent martyr such as yourself would be willing to save everyone else from coming in last, dead last.

My Favorite Tree

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike AdventuresLeave a comment

Today was my first bike ride of 2009.  I’m a little nervous about this cycling season.  Although I am part of the Fat Cyclist team, I don’t have a local team to speak of.

The bad thing about that is nobody will be setting up routes for me, telling me where to show up, and making sure I get my miles in.  The good thing is nobody will be setting up routes for me, telling me where to show up, and making sure I get my miles in.  I am my own woman, responsible for all of my training.  Ok, I’m not quite convinced it’s a good thing yet, but I’m trying to see it as an opportunity for growth.  The other good thing about going solo is that I can just tell my cycling friends when and where I’m riding and they’re likely to show up.

Today I rode in the good company of my hubby, Sir Steve (the bike mechanic), Nick (the captain of the CJD team), my friend Marie, and That Laura.  I piled on layers and layers of spandex and set out to face the unforgiving wind.  It was blowing to the South, which was fantastic when I was cruising South, but otherwise meant I was caught in a nasty crosswind or, even worse, a punishing headwind.  We rode out to Palo Cedro and Millville to my very favorite place to ride, Millville Plains.

Millville Plains is always beautiful.  It’s sweeping views and natural landscape leave me awestruck.  Today was particularly stunning.  The edges of snowcapped Lassen were razor-sharp against the blue sky.  As the wind pushed at my back, I watched the waves of grass and weeds roll like the ocean.  And of course there is my favorite tree.

It’s an oak tree, I think, and it stands all alone watching guard over the plains.  Maybe at some point in your life you’ve been asked that inane question, “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?”  Hands down, I’d be that one.

As I rode home with the wind blowing dirt onto my teeth and pushing The Rocket around like a kite, I thought of my favorite tree.  It is unmoved by wind.  It is impervious to cold.  It is unfazed by the scorching summers.  It girds strength from roots, pushed deep beneath the plains.  This season I will be like my tree, mustering strength from deep down.  I will stand guard against cancer.  Although I am without a local team, I am not alone.  I am surrounded by friends who stand with me.

Becoming

On By Alicia McCauleyIn PoetryLeave a comment

When I was growing up, I wrote poetry all the time.  I’m talking every single day, sometimes several poems a day.  It’s not that they were revolutionary works of wordsmithing, but I loved poetry.  I loved it so much that I had to write it or I would think of nothing else that day.  So in the spirit of making room for things I desire in my life and pushing towards the person I’d like to become, I dusted off my old friend, the cinquain.  The syllabic pattern of a cinquain is 2, 4, 6, 8, 2.  For me the beauty of the cinquain is that I’m forced to think about word choice.  Here are a pair of cinquains on becoming.  Here’s to a new year full of becoming what you most want to be!

Becoming Undone

Red eyes

Tears slip slide down

Wet bombs breaking my heart

Sobs echo, ghosts of love vanished

Undone

Becoming Stronger

Pushing

Endless circles

Sweat trickles, breath explodes

Weakness flees, strength prevails reaching

The crest

Lessons From My Closet

On By Alicia McCauleyIn The Junk Drawer2 Comments

There is a movement called Simple Living.  The idea behind it is that the simpler your life, the happier you will be.  The more unfettered you are, the more fulfilled you will be.

While I can’t imagine only having one fork and a singular pair of shoes, there is a certain tranquility in paring down, cutting away the fat.  I don’t plan on throwing out all of my flip-flops or tossing my favorite books or getting rid of my seldom used wedding china, but I eagerly admit to feelings of joy when I expunged two large shopping bags stuffed with clothing from my closet.  Some clothes I just don’t wear.  Some clothes were too big.  Some were too small.  Basically they just don’t fit anymore.

A funny thing happened as I gleefully threw items into the bags.  I discovered things I already own that I’d forgotten about.  Cozy sweaters crammed on a shelf, shiny brown boots hiding in a dark corner.  Jeans smashed in between other jeans.  I was ecstatic to rediscover these long-lost items.  It was like shopping in my own closet.  I carefully folded or hung each one.  I even organized all of my clothing by color, like a teeny tiny version of Oprah’s closet.  Sitting on the floor of my closet, I could now clearly see each item.  It was refreshing.

From the floor I could also clearly see my fancy dresses.  Party dresses, maid of honor dresses, funeral dresses.  I’d already weeded through them and kept the ones I feel good in, but from the floor I could see they were taking up SO much space.  Why was I letting things I only use occasionally plug up an area I occupy everyday?  It didn’t make any sense.  So I gathered up my fancy dresses and moved them to the tiny hall closet.  The one that houses snow coats and the vacuum, both things I rarely touch.  When my fancy dresses were all settled in the hall closet, I had a “Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” moment.  Of course dresses I seldom wear should occupy a space I seldom access.

And then it hit me.  My closet, my wise closet, was imparting lessons to me.  As I was cleaning out my closet, I was feeding the desire to rid my life of things that don’t fit.  Not just things that don’t fit my body, but things that don’t fit who I am, or better yet, who I’d like to become.  I want to become a better writer, teacher, and cyclist.  To make room for that in my life, other things simply do not fit.  Endless hours drifting through the internet will not fit.  People who create unnecessary drama do not fit.  Mindlessly watching TV does not fit.  Scarfing all things chocolate does not fit.  People who constantly complain about teaching do not fit.  I simply don’t have the room.

If I get rid of things that don’t really fit who I want to be, I’m confident I’ll re-discover some things that are important to me.  Things I’d forgotten about when I sandwiched them between thoughtless, unimportant things.  For example, I love poetry.  I love writing it, reading it, even just thinking about it.  Parking myself in front of the TV mindlessly doesn’t leave a lot of room for rumination of poetry.  In the same vein, pounding copious amounts of tasty goodies in lieu time in the saddle doesn’t fit with my goal to be a better cyclist.  There’s not room for both.  This probably seems like “duh” to you, but it’s time for me to let go of things that suck time and energy and give nothing in return.  It’s certainly not simple living, but it is living simpler. I already feel happier.  Here I thought I was just cleaning out my closet.

Candy-gram? No. Pizza guy? No. Landshark Socks? Yes!

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Christmas3 Comments

This Christmas, I received things in pairs.  For example, I received two homemade scarves.  I am now the lucky beholder of gift certificates to two different bike shops.  In my stocking were two pairs of socks and a pair of necklaces.  My mom even gave me an ornament of A Partridge In A Pear Tree.  Ok, it’s a stretch, but I’m the one writing this, so it counts.

The thing I’d like to talk about today are the socks.  Both pairs were stocking stuffers from Terry.  One pair were made of read and green soft, fuzzy goodness, perfect bedtime socks.  The other pair of socks are the best pair of socks ever created.

Before I tell you more about the socks, let’s talk about my favorite times of the year.  To start with, I love the week of 4th of July.  That is the week Terry and I both celebrate our birthdays and I volunteer with Youth to Youth.  I also enjoy the week of Easter vacation.  Not only do I enjoy the days off, but it is a time for me to reflect on my relationship with God.  Another favorite time of year is the week of our anniversary.  The fact that my favorite person in the world has stuck with me for another year is pretty amazing shocking.  But there is one week that is in a whole other category.  I’m not saying it’s better than those other weeks, I’m just saying it’s worthy of its own special category.

The week I’m talking about is, of course, Shark Week.

During Shark Week my DVR just about faints from exhaustion.  I am mesmerized by sharks.  Fierce white tips, fat nurse sharks, powerful great whites.  I am in awe of them all.  My hair could catch on fire and I wouldn’t even notice that my scalp was singeing because I’d be too busy watching Great Whites propel themselves straight into the air, hunting the playful inhabitants of Seal Island.  From their ultra-sensitive noses to their rows and rows of teeth, I am an unabashed shark superfan.

So back to the socks I got for Christmas.  Let me tell you what makes these the King of All Socks.  To begin with, they are cycling socks.  That in itself makes them far better than all other types of socks.  Secondly, they are made by The Sock Guy, creator of awesome cycling socks.  The Sock Guy must also be a fan of Shark Week because these socks have sharks on them!  Strike that.  These socks are sharks.  Great White Sharks.  The toe is the nose.  On the ankle is the fin.  And the mouth on the underside is full of pointy teeth.  Just in case you’re still not getting the greatness of these socks, here they are in full predatory action!

Can’t you just hear the Jaws music playing?  These are by far the most ferocious socks I’ve ever seen.  Surely, they will make me a more ferocious cyclist, too.  Sharks have to continuously move forward.  Otherwise they die.  As I’m chugging up hills, I will have sharks on my feet.  My feet will have to keep pedaling, if only out of mortal fear.