Amy's Adventures

Perhaps we could use some snow shoes

2008-12-11T10:06:00.001-08:00

Matt and I headed out to Fish Creek Falls yesterday for the intended journey of a 5mile climb to a lake located at 10,000 feet. About 2 hours into the trek, thigh-high in snow, elevated heart rates, we decided that snow shoes would be a wise investment for this type of adventure.

Ski Town USA- our new home

2008-12-11T09:41:00.000-08:00

Somehow it all fell into place...I viewed a few of the ski town local papers, found a management position for a resort company, had a few interviews and before I knew it, I was a resident of Steamboat, Colorado working for Steamboat Resorts. Steamboat was the best choice based on the proximity to my family (only 3 hours away from Fort Collins), the size of the town (it's a real community), and the plethora of outdoor activities.

Life in Steamboat and working for Steamboat Resorts has been great so far. It's easy to achieve the end goal of making guests vacations as good as possible and meeting & getting to know all of the owners of the properties. Everyone living in steamboat is like-minded in that they live here because they want to and they attempt to spend as much time enjoying the outdoors as possible. It couldn't be a better fit.

Waking up every morning I look out my front door to see the ski mountain...I can't help but want to get outside.

Following the dream- Colorado Road Trip

2008-12-11T09:07:00.000-08:00

It’s been over 4 months since I left the corporate world with goals of returning to my home state of Colorado and pursuing a career more aligned to my passion and interests (not that I wasn’t passionate about credit cards!).
Matt and I spent the month of September touring around the entire state attempting to find the perfect home. Putting over 2000 miles on the car, we checked out some cool spots from Fort Collins to Denver, Buena Vista to Ouray (via Cottonwood Pass), Durango to Silverton, Telluride, Crested Butte to Aspen (via Kebler pass), Silverthorne, Estes Park and finally Steamboat (via Buffalo pass). At the end of our road trip we concluded that we really couldn’t go wrong with any choice of location.

Swim Trekking in Gozo

2008-09-08T13:23:00.000-07:00

I would be hard pressed to find a more relaxing way to have a very active vacation. That's actually not a contradiction in terms, as swim trekking around Malta has been one of the best vacations I have ever experienced. Whether it's the crystal clear Mediterranean, the cloudless skies with temperatures hovering around 85 degrees, the perfect balance of swimming along cliffs and chilling on the boat, or the camaraderie of the 13 swim trekkers and guides, I left Malta renewed, refreshed, and enriched.

The days are filled with challenging, yet breathtaking swims along coasts and cliffs. Just when I felt that I had enough of the saltwater, our guides Lizzie and Sakura would whistle us to the boat and greet us with coffee/tea, trail mix and cookies. The snacks did the trick for renewing our energy and most of us would find ourselves back in the water, playing off of the anchored boat. The entertainment opportunities are endless in the Mediterranean. I was easily talked into diving into the water to join Luke and Leigha in an impromptu game of water polo or volley ball. Other days we would gather leftover bread from lunch and watch the thousands of fish swarm us in an attempt to get in on the action of sharing the food. Some of our time was spent taking cat naps on the boat, listening to Ipods or diving off of the balcony of the boat.

After a delicious, healthy lunch, our afternoons were filled with additional swims, long hikes, visits to secret caves (such as the cave from the movie Count of Monte Cristo), or a much needed visit to the local masseur.

The camaraderie among the group was absolutely priceless. From the very first introductory meeting where we all revealed our varying degrees of open water swimming experience, to the final breakfast a week after our arrival, the group formed an unbelievable bond. Representing Sweden, Australia, Gibraltar, France, England, and the US, we certainly never had to search for conversation topics.

The team consisted of the following: the guides Sakura, who swam the English channel in 11 hours (i.e. 22 miles- that is unbelievable!), and Lizzie, our fearless Aussie leader with an in-depth knowledge of celebrity gossip, who kept us in line with enthusiasm and her positive attitude.

The youngest members of Team Gozo were two university seniors- 1 from Stanford (member of the triathlon team) and 1 from Harvard (captain of the swim team). The rest of the group consisted of 30 somethings, including: the Aussies who have a talent for open water swimming (not to mention Luke's tendency to sandbag the beginning of the swim in order come in first among the pink caps);

Cameraman Will, whose contagious energy and optimism ensured that he was always up to something (e.g. free diving, 1st jellyfish sting, finding a dead eel and being considerate enough to bring it on the boat to share with the group, to planning a grand finale hike to watch the sunset over cocktails);

Team Orange who had a tendency to get in some extra unwanted mileage but whose fitness and teamwork ensured that all of the swims were completed and carried out with enthusiasm.

and finally Team Yellow (aka team Sweden) who demonstrated not only consistent good humor and perseverance, but also a talent for dives off of the boat and synchronized swimming;

The closeness of the group over such a short period of time can be explained by the shared interest in travel, passion for adventure and willingness to take on both physical & personal challenges. The only difficulty is now picking the next Swim Trek adventure for 2009 with so many great options.

The swim totals:
Day 1 - Sunday - 7000 (600 meter time trial to designate teams, 3 km morning swim, 4 km afternoon swim)
Day 2 - Monday - 1500 (crossing from Gozo to Camino, 600 swim to Blue Lagoon, exploring caves, hike to top of Camino)
Day 3 - Tuesday - 6000 (Funghus Rock- big swells/turbulent water, hike to blue hole & arch & back to Xlendi)
Day 4 - Wednesday - 5000 (crossing from Gozo to Malta)
Day 5 - Thursday - 5000 (2km in morning, 3 km in afternoon, water polo)
Day 6 - Friday - 500 (swim to cave in Xlendi)

Valletta Malta- on our way to Gozo...

2008-09-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

The 3 hour Ryanair flight from Luton to Malta was uneventful. The exception is the Gin & Tonic that Sarah and I ordered to kick start our holiday. In true Ryanair style, it was no ordinary G&T, but rather a tiny plastic bag of gin. The only other time I've enjoyed such an innovative packaging was flying to Dublin a few years ago where I generously treated my dad to a drink which at the going rate of £3 was £2 more than I paid for the flight!

The second bit of excitement came from the taxi driver who arguably achieved a world record time of driving us from the airport to Valletta. Although neither of us clocked it, we traveled the 10 km in record speed with screeching tires, passing all of the other cars, pushing 100 km/hour on windy, busy city roads. It was there that we noted that Malta didn't seem to be big on road markings of any type.

While somewhat concerned about our likelihood of survival, Sarah and I were in awe of just how clean and beautiful the city was. We took a walk around the city to find it almost unsettleingly quiet.

Roadtrip to Devon & Cornwall (yes, it's really England!)

2008-08-27T12:29:00.000-07:00

The Stats of our 5 day Road Trip:
-712 miles (by car, not bike!)
-9 Villages
-3 Coastal Hikes
-2 Campsites
-6 Pasties
-& more beer, meals, ice cream, coffees, etc.

1st stop- Beer, Seiton, Lime Regis

After a pleasant drive down to the south coast, Matt and I found a campsite on a hill above Beer which we called home for 2 nights. Despite going to bed around 9 pm, we managed to sleep in until around 10 the next morning!

We set out the next morning to discover Beer where we chilled on the beach with a newspaper and then enjoyed the first of what would prove to be one of MANY massive meals over the weekend.

Torquay- the English Riviera!
The next stop on the journey was a day in the bustling seafront town of Torquay. The most memorable part of Torquay (besides the enormous breakfast number 2) was the abundance of palm trees.

Cornwall- Pentewan, Mevagissey, Charlestown- the land of rolling green hills, blue skies (yep, still in England!) and pasties

The next place we set up shop was in Pentewan, and located right on the ocean. We visited the local village pub for a pint and then enjoyed our second coastal walk to the quaint fishing village called Mevagissey...and so the pasty exstravaganza began (thank goodness for the 2 mile hilly walk!).

The next morning we set out on a hike to Charlestown. It was hands down my favorite walk that I've done so far in England. It was the perfect temperature in the low 70s, no wind, blue skies. The terrain was rolling hills with turquois water below.

We took the river path home where Matt was kind enough to save a few chickens from escaping.

We arrived home ravenous and enjoyed a picnic on the beach.

Newquay & Padstow- Surfing beaches & more grub (Rick Steins) Our last stops on the trip were to the famous Newquay beach filled with young surfer partying types.

We then visited the small village called Rick Stein/Padstow. We visited Rick Stein's Cafe for lunch, followed by a cake shop and then headed back up to Nottingham.

Another Step Towards the Journey Out West...

2008-08-22T01:51:00.000-07:00

Jobless....check.

Homeless...check.

It's starting to become clear that a few changes are in the making. As I sat on my driveway and watched all of my material possessions consolidated and loaded into a smallish truck, I wished them well on their journey across the Atlantic. I left my home on Mapperley Plains with one suitcase in hand (notably, it contains my only clothing options for the next 4+ months!).

So far the most striking observations I have about being jobless for the past 3 weeks (and not travelling extensively) is just how quickly time goes and how the smallest tasks make me feel very productive. For example, a day that consisted of a trip to the bike shop, lunch with Matt and his sister Kate, and a swim felt like I had accomplished a great deal. I've had to ask myself how it was ever possible to work a full day, squeeze in errands, do 2 workouts, and have coffee with friends. Hmmm...will I ever be able to go back to corporate life??

The Capital One send off!

2008-08-13T03:54:00.000-07:00

After spending 9 years (i.e. my entire adult working life) at Capital One, I knew it would be an emotional good-bye. Luckily, my team ensured that I would be laughing instead of crying. Kate and Cath were the ring leaders behind the operation and planned my 'leaving do' (i.e. drinks at Canal House and dinner at a Turkish restaurant). I showed up to work on my last day with the entire team dressed in bike helmets and some in swim goggles and some wearing medals around their necks. I thought that was bad enough, but as I looked closer I noted that they were all wearing t-shirts with an embarrassing close-up of me on the front. The back of the t-shirt stated 'sponsored by toffee muffins and vanilla lattes' (my two biggest food vulnerablilities after long training weekends!).

They were kind enough to make a shirt for me and had all signed it.

Camping in Derbyshire

2008-08-06T02:29:00.000-07:00

I was worried that after the Ironman I would face that uncertain time of what's next. My past couple of years have been categorized as pre and post Ironman. Now that it's post Ironman, I no longer have the excuse to defer all decisions to after 13 July. That said, it hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, I've really relaxed and enjoyed myself. Exercise regimes consist of 40 minute swims and my 30 minute commute to work.

Last weekend Kate planned a very last minute camping trip to Derbyshire. I decided that I could use a 40 mile ride into the hills and it would be great fun to have a night in the outdoors. The focus of the night in the wilderness was, of course, eating and drinking. It was no ordinary food selection, however. Brian and Andrea have very sophisticated palates and therefore arrived with an array of delicious food such as fresh vegetables sauteed with extra virgin olive oil, grilled to perfection. Local sausages, tuna steak, cheese and crackers, etc. Needless to say, we didn't go hungry. We also kept our thirst at bay with 6+ bottles of wine and some Anchor Steam beer (lord knows where they find all the American products in Nottingham).

We managed to sleep in until nearly 10 am, and then visit my favorite cafe in Derbyshire- Elton, for some much needed hang-over food. Being a 'cyclist cafe' it wasn't surprising to see Matt's entire cycling team enjoying a cup of tea outside the cafe.

Ironman Switzerland- What a day!

2008-07-15T13:59:00.000-07:00

It took me 4 years to finally make it to the start line of the Ironman. I could easily fill a novel with stories of the 4 year lead up to the race with accounts of gruelling miles, peaks and troughs of motivation, setbacks, mechanical issues, incredible friends, running clubs, broken bones, self doubt, social trade-offs, camps (Savage & International), inspirational friends/athletes/training partners, registration peer pressure (Kristin, Joanne & Theresa!) obscene financial investments, caloric fluctuations, patient mechanics/boyfriend and unconditional support and love from family. As my dad and I sat at the Ironman brunch 24 hours after the race watching the video from the previous day, it became clear that like me, all 2500+ athletes who made it out to Zurich had an inspirational story not only of race day, but behind their decision and commitment to even attempt an Ironman.

At the risk of sounding overly positive or repressing any memory of discomfort during the run, I can honestly say that July 13th was one of the best days I’ve ever experienced. I have nothing to compare to the feeling of seeing my mom and dad with expressions of pride and endless encouragement as I slowly shuffled past them on the run with a combined grimace and attempted smile. Of course there were slight inconveniences throughout the day - rain thrashing down during the entire swim and the majority of the bike ride, the kick in the face which caused my goggles to come down over my mouth, the inconvenient timing of needing to use the loo (3 times!), the incorrect perception that my front tire had a slow leak during the entire ride, my failed attempt at grabbing a PB&J from Sarah while cycling (a skill I haven’t yet mastered) – all of which seem insignificant now.

The highlights of the day are endless, although the common theme is the spectator support and seeing friends out on the course, and of course food! I don’t know if I’ve adequately expressed just how much I looked forward to seeing my parents, Sarah and Alison, Ronny, Kristin, Hugh, Theresa, Joanne and Kristin's parents throughout the day. Heartbreak Hill, notorious for its challenging 13% grade, was actually a pleasure!

I first heard the DJ announce ‘Amy Smith from Great Britain!’, and then the crowd chanting my name, and my parents and Sarah & Alison cheering for me. The hundreds of spectators moved out of the way just as I approached them- Tour de France style! I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun on the bike. I literally couldn’t stop smiling riding up the hill and I genuinely looked forward to the second lap to do it all over again.

Similarly, the crowd and my family got me through the run. With ‘Smith’ written on the bum and front of my tri suit and my name on my race belt, I had people cheering for me by name during the entire run course. Between the cheers from the crowd and the ‘buffet’ the run was completely tolerable. Experienced marathon runners, Sarah and Alison, were shocked by the food selection and consumption during the marathon, describing it as ‘a social gathering around food’ as opposed to a marathon. I, on the other hand, had no qualms with fully embracing the buffet. I literally stopped at every single food stop- which came to a total of 16 stops! My stomach seemed to be handling food, so I continued to throw it back. The routine was water, coke, warm chicken broth, pretzel sticks, water (in that order). Every now and then I’d throw in an apricot, banana or nuts. I steered clear from the chips/crisps as I had Sarah’s voice in my head telling me that those were not meant for me! Sarah had to wean me away from the buffet at one point to put a Garmin on my wrist and feed me Ibuprofen. I knew there would be tears on the run at some point, I just didn’t know when. Surprisingly, they came around the halfway point. I’m fairly certain that my already dysfunctional running gait was slowly deteriorating to an even worse shuffle. I saw my dad, sitting alone at an oddly quiet part of the race (i.e. very few runners or fans in the area). ‘Daaaaaaad,’ I yelled, so pleased to see him. He had a mixed expression that I can’t quite articulate…something between deep concern, pride and encouragement. ‘Are you okay, Amy?’ he asked me. ‘You stay hydrated out here.’ That simple exchange had me in tears! As predicted, the second set of tears came at the finish line. My mom, dad, Sarah and Alison cheering at the top of their lungs and swinging the enormous Colorado flag, the stands filled with enthusiastic spectators, the loud speaker announcement of ‘Amy Smith, you are an Ironman’, and finally the enormous hugs…I can’t remember many happier moments in my life.

As for the 3 goals:
•Make it to the start - √ Phew -the curse is over!
•Make it to the finish in the allotted time - √ (10:52 total, 58:29 swim, 5:38 bike, 4:05 run)
•Try not to take myself too seriously - √ (I loved just about every minute of the day)

Secret goal:
•Qualify for Hawaii – not this year, but we’ll give it a go next year!

Ironman Preparation

2008-07-11T02:27:00.000-07:00

Perhaps the more conventional way to test out a new aero helmet would have been to do a 100+ mile ride. As with some of my other Ironman preparation, I had run out of time and had to make do. The 100 mile ride turned into what was planned as a quick 40 mile spin around the lanes just to get a feel for the helmet. As the rain began pummeling outside, the quick spin turned into putting the helmet on and wearing it around my house for 2+ hours while I emailed!

A couple of days before the race, I had a last minute education on Tubular tires. Unlike Lance Armstrong, my Tubulars are not stored in a cellar to age like wine. Mine have been stuffed in a box over the years waiting for the first Ironman.

4th of July Surprise Party (...in England on June 28)!!

2008-06-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

What I was told would be 'a quiet dinner in the garden to catch up on your recent travels' turned into the best (and only) SURPRISE 4th of July party that I've ever been to...and yes it was in England, hosted by the English and on 28 June!!

Little did I know that Kate and other friends from work were hard at work printing American and State flags, preparing party hats, red, white and blue streamers, planning outfits, and a menu for the big 4th of July bash. They all managed to keep their efforts on the down-low and Brian, Andrea and I (the surprisees) didn't suspect a thing. We spent the evening eating good old traditional American dishes such as delicious key lime pie, burgers, chips & dip, potatoes, etc. etc. We amused ourselves with talk of politics, assimilating into England, and of course the likelihood of England 'taking us back' (America, that is)! and clearly enjoying way too much wine! It was an excellent evening and such a fun surprise. I'm convinced that the it will be my most memorable 4th of July celebration for years to come.

Savage Camp/Kyle is insane!

2008-06-26T14:57:00.000-07:00

Several months ago Kyle mentioned that he would be putting on a camp in Deep Creek, MD catered to friends training for summer Ironmans. Kyle has established a reputation for himself in the Deep Creek area by starting the Savageman 1/2 Ironman- 'the world's toughest 1/2 Ironman'. I knew Savagecamp would be something that I didn't want to miss. It's not often that one can surround herself by a group of nutters with the same training agenda. The positive motivation/peer pressure to ride 100+ mile bike rides followed by quick runs, and long lake swims in the wee hours of the morning prior to long rides is just what I needed to get me through the last couple of weeks before the big race.

Kyle's Savagecamp did not disappoint. Somehow Kyle pulled together a group of compatible, enthusiastic Ironman trainees. Matt and I were at an advantage for not having attended the entire week long camp. We arrived on Wednesday evening and were told of the mile swim at 8:00 am followed by the 109 mile ride with extensive climbing. Friday didn't prove to be much easier. Matt, Tom, Ted and I rode the Savageman 56 mile bike course. I spent almost the entire ride thinking that Kyle had lost his marbles for designing the route that people would actually race during a 1/2 Ironman. I knew Matt, Tom, Ted and I were almost as bad as Kyle for having ridden the course on Friday's 'rest day'. Of course, Kyle had something even more 'savage' up his sleeve for the grand finale. The Diabolical Double was a 125 mile route with 15,000 feet of climbing. He basically designed a ride that would zigzag up all of the major mountains near Deep Creek. Somehow he convinced all of us that it was a good idea and we blindly accepted the challenge. Luckily, we all survived and now live to tell. Of course sitting on my couch in England, one week later, I don't recall that it was actually that bad :).

If nothing else, the rewards of completing such a ride, replaying stories of the day, and having a few drinks and excessive food (a pre-meal sandwich, followed by beer, heavy appetizers, a large pizza, ice cream and then s'mores) somehow make the entire 8+ hour ride seem worth it. There's nothing better than a chill day following rigorous training...

Kyle and Laura were wonderful hosts and inspiring guides through our Savagecamp adventure. Looking forward to next year...and I just might join the true nutters for the full week of torture.

Colorado - family time, training at altitude

2008-06-24T13:38:00.000-07:00

Spending 2 weeks in Colorado was an absolute luxury, and something that I haven't done in years. Within the first 72 hours I managed to eat at my top 3 favorite restaurants in the world (i.e. Chipotle, Silver Grill and Rio Grande), cycle one of my favorite rides (Fort Collins to Estes Park), and spend quality time with my dad, Kathy and the dogs.

By day 3 Matt and I headed up to Vail to start our week long cycling adventure. Slightly concerned about the lightweight cycling clothes that we packed, we looked at each other in disbelief as we entered Summit County to find snow on the ground. Undeterred by the chill outside, Matt, Lee Grant and I headed out of East Vail to climb Vail Pass (>10,000 ft.). Clearly the most sensible of the group, Lee returned to the condo while Matt and I continued our ride to Frisco. We eventually returned to the condo at a mere 8000 feet just in time to miss a snow storm. We were greeted by my dad and headed into Vail Village for a stroll and a nice meal.

Based on Kathy's recommendation, we headed to Grand Junction to ride The Monument. It is a spectacular ride- almost entirely traffic free, smooth surfaced roads with a moderate gradient. My dad was kind enough to drive us all the way to Grand Junction and even drove around the course to check out the ride.
We finished the day with a delicious Mexican dinner with my dad's friends Van and Lori (Mexican NEVER gets old!!).

After Grand Junction, Matt and I returned to the high country of Vail to begin the next ride called the Triple Bypass- named for the the multiple passes summitted on the 80 mile loop (although there are 4 passes, not 3...hmmm?). While Vail pass didn't seem too bad, the next 20+ mile slog up to Leadville was brutal...leading to Matt's first exposure to altitude sickness (i.e. dehydration, exhaustion, attack on the kidneys, unpleasantness coming out of both ends!, etc.). The ride was spectacular (although I think Matt might have forgotten about the scenery considering how he felt the next 72 hours).

To ensure that we didn't permanently lose the Englishman (or eliminate his desire to ever return to the Colorado Rockies), we decided that it was in everyone's best interest to return to Fort Collins- a more reasonable elevation of ~5000 feet. A few days off the bike and an overdose of Gatorade and Matt was pretty much back to normal.

As we don't make it back from the England as often as we wish we could, my sister and mom & Dave all made an effort to come out to Colorado to see us...really more to see Matt and hear the lovely English accent! We spent quality time with the family and enjoyed the 3 nephews/nieces all under 2 years old!

The Grants were kind enough to host the Father's Day brunch (as well as support my open water swimming habit). I spent quality time with Lea and her darling Quinn at one of the best breakfast spots in Boulder - Lucile's. I returned a few days later so Matt could experience the biscuits!

It was absolutely an ideal 2 weeks with the right balance of quality time with family (parents, sister, cousins, step-sisters, nieces/nephews...we saw everyone!), delicious American portion sized meals (with an emphasis on Mexican food), scenic rides through Summit County, Left Hand Canyon, Rist Canyon, Owl Canyon, etc.

train, eat, sleep, race, repeat

2008-05-19T04:44:00.000-07:00

As Matt is starting to come into fitness (and therefore racing ~3x per week), and I enter into the serious training weeks leading up to Ironman, it seems that our lives consist of very little beyond the core basics. Late nights in the pubs are a distant memory. We tend to treat ourselves to a curry a couple of drinks about once per week, which is now considered a luxary.

Lincoln Grand Prix

2008-05-19T00:16:00.000-07:00

Southwell Sprint Triathlon- Gauging Fitness

2008-05-07T12:46:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago Matt sent me the link for the Southwell (pronounced Suth-uhl by the locals- and they think Americans speak incorrectly!) triathlon encouraging me to enter. Despite my attempts, I couldn't think of a good reason not to do the race. With Ironman training well underway, I've found myself plodding along for long distances, yet resisting efforts that cause me to suffer. I figured a sprint triathlon in the middle of a heavy training weekend would be just what I needed. The first challenge was casting my memory back to the previous time I had done the race to determine my predicted swim time. I somewhat arbitrarily wrote down a swim time (grossly off of my actual swim time)- which proved to cause a few delays as I found myself among breast strokers during the crowded pool swim.

Admittedly, I did not prepare myself how most would prior to a triathlon. I had already scheduled a 16 mile training run with Sarah & Alison for the Saturday morning before the triathlon. I wasn't about to miss Alison's lemon cake, errr, I mean the run just because I had a tri the next morning! The second atypical move was riding my bike 15 miles to the race. After living without a car for the past 3 years, commuting, even to race, doesn't faze me. Now that I've managed to discretely mention all of my excuses, I admit with only slight disappointment that I didn't win the race (4th place female).

(Not sure why I appear to be on the verge of a major fall!)

Regardless, it was a great day. Sarah P., Alison, Kate came out to watch the race. I managed to continue moving in a forward motion despite my discomfort & elevated heart rate due to their enthusiastic cheers. It is such a motivation to have friends in the crowd reeling you into the finish. We ended the afternoon by riding to Bleasby cafe for lunch...which is always a key ingredient to a perfect day.

Signs of assimilation

2008-05-06T02:49:00.000-07:00

Had someone asked me 3 years ago prior to my move to England what I would consider a refreshing drink on a hot day in the middle of a long bike ride, I'm fairly certain my response would not have been a cup of hot tea with milk. Now it is rare that I go through an entire day without a 'cuppa' (the English slang for tea, which they find great amusement when I attempt to say it with my best impression of a North Notts accent).

Majorca

2008-04-14T12:31:00.000-07:00

I'm writing my blog entry standing in the villa's pool, or what we've all been using as an 'ice bath' in our attempt to lessen, or at least postpone the burn in the quads. I was let off easy today, completing only a 10 mile run from Puerta Pollensa to Port Alcudia. 7 of the other riders hit the lanes for a steady 50-70 miles. While I honestly would have preferred the bike to the run, despite the ~300 miles I've put in my legs over the past 4 days, the condition of my bike prevented me from riding.

I was warned that my bike needed a good wash at the beginning of the week. It became close to unridable this morning with the chain jumping every 3rd pedal stroke. Despite Simon's best attempts to make it ridable, I ended up turning around after about 1 1/2 miles and going straight to the bike shop for a new chain and cassett.

I remembered Bruce at Pro Cycle Hire from 2 years ago when the group of 'Mericans were in town for the week. With the time and $$ we spent in the shop we befriended Bruce and his staff. Despite his long queue of customers and 40+ bikes they had to service that day, he took me in and said he would do what he could that day and ensure that I could ride the next day.

Although feeling slightly guilty that I didn't make it out with the group, my quads were thanking me, knowing I'd suffer plenty the next day on the bike.

The Cycling

Considering all of the places I've been lucky enough to ride, I still think Majorca in the spring might be my favorite. You can literally find any type of terrain- mountains, flat lanes (with sheep as the only traffic), coastal roads and quaint Spanish villages.

,

Soaking in the culture

Luckily, we didn't spend every hour in lycra torturing each other on hills. We did our best to strike the appropriate balance of cycling and spending quality time at coffee shops, in plazas filled with other cyclists, and in Majorcan restaurants with endless supplies of paella and rioja.

Family Vacation in Bermuda

2008-04-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

My family was kind enough to pass on the annual trip to Hawaii this year to 'meet me in the middle'. Since I'm not fortunate enough to take a sabbatical annually, and I have a few other vacations planned this year, I only had 1 week holiday to take for the March family vacation. The 22+ hour trip to Hawaii seemed a bit too far to travel, so I suggested to my dad, sister and brother-in-law, Sam, that they head east this year. After ruling out 3rd world countries, Greenland and Iceland, we settled on Bermuda (sort of a midpoint between California and England). Not only is Bermuda a warm, beautiful Island, but also Sam's family has a cottage on the Island. My dad quickly thought through the golf options, I quickly explored the cycling options and we were convinced. Slightly less convinced due to the less than tropical climate, my sister eventually agreed that Bermuda would be a suitable destination.

We happened to arrive the week that Bermuda had the 'coldest weather of the winter' (i.e. low 60s). I spent the first 24 hours wrapped in a blanket, as Sam gathered firewood to keep the cottage warm, and Carrie snuggled with baby Dubs. Our luck did take a turn for the better and we eventually shed a few layers and enjoyed the outdoor activities that Bermuda is known for.

I was fortunate enough to stumble across a triathlon store in Hamilton. My dad and I spoke to the owner of the shop who quickly set me up for an incredible week of training. He put me on the phone with Karen Smith, who is a seasoned triathlete who has competed in Hawaii. Karen told me all about the best places to swim on the Island. He then put me in touch with Mark Lombardi who generously lent me his road bike for the entire week to train. I was overwhelmed with such trust and kindness. The cycling on the Island certainly did not disappoint. I enjoyed endless views of the ocean and pristine water as I rode along the rolling hills. With the weather in the low 70s, I was pretty much in heaven for my runs and rides.

Despite the excellent training conditions, I spent a considerable amount of time at the cottage chilling with the family. I couldn't wean myself away from my delightful 9 month old nephew William James aka Dubs. He laughs, giggles, flirts, puts his entire hand in his food, hugs, cuddles, etc. He is absolutely irresistible. He is on the verge of crawling and as soon as he can get his belly off the ground he will master the skill.
My dad was a loving teacher and had Dubs doing multiple exercises such as sit-ups, reaching with his non-dominate hand, and assisted climbing. William James was happy and exhausted after playing with my dad.

Although not scorching hot, Bermuda turned out to be a great destination for the family vacation. In addition to playing with Dubs, the highlights included the evenings of drinking Bermuda's famous Dark & Stormy's (dark rum & ginger beer), and Sam's excellent grilling (fresh fish, etc.). Patty's contagious laugh and her delicious brownies. It was a treat to spend time with the family and Bermuda is certainly a place that I'll return.

Stepping up my running game: Redhill, Ashby 20 miler & cake

2008-04-01T12:36:00.000-07:00

Dusting off the running shoes...
After the painful and eye opening 10 Km race that I ran over the Christmas holiday, I decided I needed to get my butt in gear if I was serious about this Ironman that I had signed up for. I knew that Sarah Parker did long runs with the Redhill running club on Sunday mornings. Belly full of Mexican food and Margaritas, driving home from the movies with Matt late one Saturday evening, I texted Sarah to ask about her running plan for the next morning. '12 miles, canal, 8 a.m. tomorrow' she replies. Uh-oh, I thought, instantly sober, I knew it was time to step it up with my training. I hesitantly texted back that I would see her there.
Sarah P is pretty much the reason I finally got my act together for running training.

Sarah & Alison's brilliant tactic
I was quickly sucked into the Redhill running club's weekend runs, and specifically into Sarah R. and Alison's 'secret marathon' training schedule. Sarah and Alison instantly took me under their wing. They are both talented and experienced runners who guided me through tough Wednesday night 10 mile runs and even longer weekend runs. Their clever tactic was simple and effective- they enticed me with food! The email would state something along the lines of ...
'Amy, I have baked a banana walnut cake that is extra moist, golden brown on top, and filled with bananas. I'll bring it along with tea to enjoy after our run on Sunday. Oh, and we're running 18 miles'.
My eyes would skim over the details of the run distance and intently focus on the cake. Ohhhh, banana cake, one of my favorites. 'I'll be there!' I would respond, forgetting instantly about the 18 miles that I would have to endure prior to earning my cake. It worked every time and I managed to complete long training runs just about every Sunday.

Ashby 20 miler- PB&Js, undeserved recognition, the cat box...
The effectiveness of their tactic was perhaps best evidenced when I found myself signing up for a 20 mile race in March. What am I doing, I thought as I filled out the online form for what would be the longest I had ever run. I then reflected on the 'picnic' that we had discussed taking to the race to make it more enjoyable. I was responsible for the PB&Js (i.e Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches), and a few other snacks. Early race morning I loaded up an assortment of sandwiches (i.e. crunchy and smooth peanut butter and honey and peanut butter and jelly), fruit and vegetables into a small cooler.

Little did I know that my American cooler is not a common household item in England. Amusingly, the English refer to such a container as a 'cool box'. Even more amusing, the large majority assumed it was a cat box and not a 'cool box'. 'Have you decided to bring your cat to the race?' a few people asked in their lovely English accents. 'My cat? No,' I replied, 'just PB&Js.' (dear lord, I don't think I'm pulling off being English on this particular occasion).

While I thought the cat/cool box would be the highlight of embarrassment for the day, I managed to take it one step further. Sarah and Alison ran a perfect tactical race that day. I was fortunate enough to follow their lead. They walked me through everything. From pacing, to talking, to assessing how we felt, to managing hills, to eating to drinking, I literally followed Sarah and Alison's lead for the entire race. Sarah was still feeling strong with a couple of miles to go and decided to push her pace. Alison and I felt okay, but weren't in a position to stick with Sarah. Alison and I hung together until around mile 18 1/2 where I thought I was ready to really push it. I pulled only slightly ahead of Alison at a fairly aggressive pace. With less than 3/4 mile to go, I realized that I was really starting to hurt. My pace slowed considerably. Alison saw that I was struggling, grabbed my arm and pulled me over the finish line. We crossed the finish line together and were ecstatic that we made our goal time to finish under 8 minute miles.

The embarrassment came in during the awards ceremony. I had signed up for the Ashby 20 as a member of Redhill. I actually hadn't quite gotten around to submitting my £6 or my membership form (although I had full intentions of doing so). They began to call out awards for the women's running clubs (i.e. top 3 lady finishers from the same club). As soon as they announced that Redhill ladies were second my heart started to pound. Please don't call my name, please don't call my name, I prayed. They slowly called out the names, Karen, Sarah and Amy. NOOOOOOOOOOO!! 'There's been a mistake,' I told them, 'it should be Alison'. I could barely stand up to collect the award. I was humiliated. Alison, an active member of Redhill for years, who helped me with every move throughout the race, who had helped me with all of my training to even get to the race, who literally dragged my butt across the finish line was not getting recognized and I was. Needless to say, I paid my £6 and joined Redhill 'officially' that evening.

I will continue to be grateful for Alison's gracious composure and sense of humor with the situation, for Sarah Richard's delicious cakes, energy level with training and motivation throughout the runs, and to Sarah Parker for getting me out there in the first place. Thanks to the 3 of them, I might just be on track to pull off the old Ironman!

New Year's in Wales

2008-01-13T03:22:00.001-08:00

Sarah and Andy were kind enough to convince friends James and Louise that Matt and I would be a good addition to their New Year's tradition. Not sure what tactic they used, but it worked, and we all had an excellent time.

James and Louise own a cottage in a tiny village in Wales. The village (the name escapes me, but suffice it to say it has lots of consonants in a row) sits a few minutes from the coast and only about 30 minutes from Snowdon (the highest peak in Wales). Their cottage sits a few yards away from a pub. Bottom line, the location is absolutely perfect for activity and/or relaxation. Focusing on the latter, we filled our days with endless amounts of cheese consumption, lengthy debates about the world's most inspirational hero (i.e. Lance Armstrong, obviously) and his sell-out TdF predecessor (i.e. Lemond), rounds of the Name Game (revealing some gaps in my cultural awareness), and entertainment from the fiery and intimate relationship between the pups Badger and Bailey. We did muster up the energy to take a walk along the beach, with a quick pub stop.

New Year's eve was non-stop entertainment filled with a few hours hanging out in the cottage, to a few hours in the pub for a dose of the locals, to the midnight celebration on the beach in the rain. Needless to say, the beach idea was heavily influenced by the evening of beverages.

Caythorp 10 km run- ouch

2008-01-13T02:50:00.000-08:00

A gentle reminder that I need to get my butt into training gear, I completed a 10 Km run on 30 December.

Sometime in early November, my colleagues Jim, Cath and I decided that it would be a good idea to run a 'flat, fast,' race. We had all just started to focus a bit more on running, and thought that the Caythorp 10Km would be a perfect race to gauge our efforts. Why we we ever thought that attempting to run hard in the middle of the biggest eating, drinking, lazing around the house week of the year, I'll never know!
Regardless, we all committed and none of us would let the others down.

With an Ironman on the horizon, I know that a 10km run shouldn't be a major concern. That said, the race was painful...I certainly have my work cut out for me. Jim, Iain, Cath & Matt managed to look slightly more composed than me at the finish line!

Of course with a few sips of water, a quick stretch, and shared stories with fellow runners, the previous moments of pain were forgotten and we were soon discussing the next 10 Km we wanted to tackle.

The highlight of the race was Cath's expression as she crossed the finish line over 6 minutes ahead of her goal time!

Bad hair day

2008-01-13T02:10:00.000-08:00

What should have been a routine, basic, uneventful trip to the hair salon turned into a fairly dramatic, expensive, appearance changing experience!

Lesson #1- Experimenting with new restaurants, music, movies= good idea, experimenting with new Hair Salons= bad idea
In my defense, the website looked reputable and the salon itself look quite upscale

Lesson #2- Although it may seem rude, confirm that your stylist has more than 1 experience with doing hair
As I was well over 50% done with highlights, the woman styling my hair drops in the fact that this is her first day at the salon!! Uh-oh.

Lesson #3- If you think your hair is turning orange, you're probably right
As I sat in the chair, admittedly a bit uneasy after hearing that my stylist was conducting on the job learning on my behalf I observed my bangs as the morphed into an interesting shade of orange. Despite attempts to convince myself that it was the lighting, or the orange painting on the wall, or my imagination, I finally acknowledged that I was beginning to sport a nice shade of tangerine on my head.

I called the stylist over and she assured me that everything was going just fine. To my horror, after my hair was washed, it was in fact orange. The poor woman did everything she could to resolve the situation, but after many attempts my hair became too 'stressed out' (yes, those are the official salon terms) to take any more change. The final resolution was to dye it a darkish brown in an attempt to cover some of the 'warmth' (aka orange/red).

Luckily, I have very supportive people around me- I was only called Cindy Lauper once. Matt spent the following 3 days referring to me as 'ginger'. He also amused himself by taking a picture with me and my 'ginger siblings'!

Consequently, I spent the following 72 hours wearing a hat, and found a salon in town to fix my hair once it had calmed from the stressful experience.

Christmas in England

2008-01-03T11:13:00.000-08:00

For the second time in 31 years, I spent the holidays away from family and outside of Colorado. I was very well taken care of in England with an action packed month thanks to friends, Matt and his family.

While Matt suffered a serious case of 'man flu' during the entire month of December,

I managed to keep myself entertained with Christmas parties and holiday gatherings. Leave it to Capital One to have a 'Moulin Rouge' themed Christmas party where spouses/partners are not invited!

Despite Matt's illness, he mustered up the energy to drive to Castleton to enjoy mulled wine, a pub dinner, and a stroll through the village.

Apparently in England the traditional way to spend Christmas Eve is in the pub rather than church. Willing to adapt to the English ways, while upholding my family tradition, I arranged to meet our friends Sarah and Andy for a few drinks, followed by midnight mass with Matt, and his mom and sister.

Christmas Day

I found that culturally the English and Americans are very much aligned in their Christmas day activity: food, gifts, food, naps,(a quick run), food. The only difference, really, is the funny hats that everyone wears that come out of the Christmas crackers.

Boxing Day
Still unclear on the meaning behind boxing day, I have been able to conclude that 1) it doesn't have anything to do with boxing such as punching each other, and 2) it is a public holiday where little is open with the exception of pubs (of course).

In attempt to counteract some of the damage that we had done with food consumption the previous day (the previous month, to be fair), we spent Boxing Day hiking in the Peak District.

Ghent Belgium- cycling, chocolate, beer & Mexican- oh my!

2007-11-28T13:06:00.000-08:00

I would be hard pressed to find a more ideal setting than Ghent, Belgium to spend a birthday/Thanksgiving long weekend. Though slightly more chilled than my typical vacation, I relished every moment of indulging in fine coffee, quality beer, chocolate waffles and wandering through the cobbled streets of the old Belgian city. As if eating, drinking and strolling wasn't enough, our evening agenda was filled by attending the 6 day stage race at the indoor cycling track.

As a complete novice to watching track racing, events such as the 'Devil' and the 'Madison' meant nothing to me. I must admit that I was curious how my self-assessed ADHD personality would cope with watching 7 hours of the same 26 cyclists circle around a 150 meter track. My expectations were exceeded if not blown away by the racing. Races such as the Devil are fascinating. Quick summary: 13 riders start, 1 from each team, and 1 rider (i.e. the last rider to cross the line) is eliminated every lap. The large screen prominently and shamelessly displays the name of the cyclist who didn't quite get his wheel over the line before any of the other riders. In just a couple of minutes the race is down to a handful of riders using every last ounce of energy to make it across the line and not hear his name announced over the loud speaker...e.g. 'Wiggins eliminated!'. It is edge of the seat entertainment. The Madison, also exciting to watch, features the hand-sling as cycling teams of 2 throw each other forward to pass along all of their momentum to their teammate. The hang sling occurs while staying upright on their bikes and avoiding crashes, and other riders, all while racing around 40 mph. Unbelievable talent. I am in awe.

The following video is a clip of Belgian Iljo Keisse during a Madison where he takes on the entire field for an all out sprint and gains a lap to win the race. The Belgians go wild!

I'm finding that the world of cycling enthusiasts is somewhat small. As I watched Wiggins and Cavendish (to be honest, mostly just Cavendish) circle the track, I noticed a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. Jane, who currently works for Nike in Amsterdam, and Rod who is coaching the British under 23 team, were amongst the thousands of cheering fans. Matt and I caught up with them and also ran into a few more Parrots (i.e. members of Sherwood Cycling Club) and enjoyed a late night drink with them after the races.

True to my International travel routine, I had to see how the Belgians did with Mexican food. I must admit that Pablo's wasn't far off from the real deal (and I have very high standards for Mexican)! Huge portions, real margaritas (not fruit juice and vodka as I've found in other countries), real Mexican style rice, decent chips and salsa etc. Mmmmmmm...a perfect birthday meal.

Regardless of the cuisine, I must admit that Belgians do it well. Perhaps the credit should go to the Italians in this instance, but it's not often that one is presented not only with a tasty pizza, but heart shaped as well!

All in all it was an ideal weekend. The easy Eurostar journey of 2 hours from London to Brussels, a beautiful hotel in the center of Ghent, hours of people watching and chatting in cafes, and late night hours of cycling racing, I don't know how I could possibly top the weekend.

The clocks go back, 4 seasons in a day, and a dose of England’s wildlife

2007-10-30T06:41:00.000-07:00

Waking up to torrential downpour and relentless wind, I glanced out the window fearing that the sun was a distant memory that I wouldn’t see again until the spring of 2008. I wound my clock back an hour recognizing that in a few weeks it would start getting dark by 4:00 p.m. (Matt has told me that I’ve become very British with my pessimism and gloom!). To overcome what could have been the dreariest Sunday in the history of Nottingham, I resorted to an old staple pick-me-up, i.e. American breakfast. I cooked up a feast of French Toast casserole and cheesy potatoes. Although he continued to refer to the French Toast as ‘Bread and Butter Pudding’, Matt seemed to enjoy the American classic as he helped himself to excessive portions.

Assuming that I had already experienced the highlight of the day with breakfast, I was utterly surprised and delighted to see the sun appear. Taking advantage of this gift from Mother Nature, Matt and I ventured down to the Trent River for a walk. Certainly not alone on our amble along the river, we were accompanied by sheep, horses, cows, dogs, cats and bulls along the way. We pushed both the animals’ and our own comfort zone limits approaching them for pictures, and a bit of TLC (e.g. Matt wiping the snot from the docile Sheep’s nose).
An English wilderness tour would not have been complete without a stop for a coffee halfway through the journey. While not pleased with the shortened day, my spirits were revived, at least temporarily, with the simplicity of the small, yet pleasant surprises on a Sunday afternoon.

Dogs- gotta love 'em

2007-10-28T02:40:00.000-07:00

You really can’t help but love dogs, no matter what they do. The past weekend of dog sitting for Badger, Andy and Sarah’s border collie, coupled with 4 weeks of getting to know the Charity’s new sprightly vizsla puppy, Amber, I am convinced that Dogs are the reason for term unconditional love.

I emphatically agreed to, if not suggested in the first place, that I take care of Badger while Sarah and Andy spent a weekend out east visiting friends and family. Dropping Badger off on Friday evening was nothing short of emotional for Sarah, Andy and Badger. Badger is a Rescue dog with a turbulent past, so Andy & Sarah have worked patiently and tirelessly over the past 8 months to convince him that he wouldn’t be abandoned again. With such a history, it is no wonder that poor Badger was frightened in a new home the night that Sarah and Andy left. I figured giving Badger free reign of the house would be the best plan so he didn’t feel trapped and could sleep on the floor in my room if he wanted company. Unfortunately, the plan backfired.

I have a vague recollection of the distinct sound of a dog attempting to bury something- that undeniable quick paw/nail motion against a surface. I couldn’t work out what the surface was as I have minimal carpet downstairs and it certainly didn’t sound like hardwood floors. I dismissed the sound, assumed I was dreaming, and went back to sleep.

Early Saturday morning, I woke to find Badger comfortably settled on the small rug in my living room. I smiled and gave him an enthusiastic morning greeting of lots of petting, ooohhhing & awhhing, and loving dialog ‘hello Badger, you’re such a good dog badge. How did you sleep Mr. Badger’. My attention then turned to the cushions on my couch and oversized chair that seemed to be in slight disarray. Uh-oh.

I calmly walked over to the couch to assess the damage- 2 cushions soaking wet, 1 cushion with a brown spot. I removed the cushions and to my dismay the liquid had seeped all the way to the foundation of the couch. I cringed as I walked over to the chair. I found the cushions and pillows on the chair to be in the same state as the sofa. My first thought (okay, so perhaps my second or third thought) was what an intelligent dog! I could hardly be mad, but rather impressed that Badger identified the two items in my entire house that were worth any value, and that shouldn’t get wet. How in the world did he know that?! As I sat on the floor, head in my hands, contemplating what to do next, sweet Badger came up right next to me, put his head down and gave me a sympathetic look. I couldn’t help but put him at ease by petting him, shaking my head, offering a pouting yet forgiving smile, and realizing that there’s nothing more endearing than a sad dog seeking approval and attention

The couch has since been cleaned…well at least it has since dried (!), and Badger is happily back at home with Sarah & Andy. While my dog craving was temporarily satiated, I anxiously await my next visit with Amber or the opportunity to have Badger stay over again.

Underworld- a 'cultural' evening at Rock City

2007-10-10T07:04:00.000-07:00

As a girl who calls herself a fan of dancing and up for any concert, I certainly had an eye opening experience to a dance/concert world with which I am completely unfamiliar. Give me JT’s Sexy Back, Beyonce’s Crazy in Love or even go as far as pretty much any 80s Hair band, and it’s hard to pull me off the dance floor. Throw on techno and I’m lost, not exactly sure how to contort my body with the rhythmic movements that seem to come so naturally to techno groupies. In fact, until today’s Google search, I could not distinguish techno, trance, house or dance. Now I can (by definition only, certainly not based on sound) proudly state that last night I had the pleasure of seeing/listening to a trance group/band (haven’t yet worked out the nomenclature for Trance!). Matt and I ventured to see Underworld at Nottingham’s famous venue Rock City.

The first question I asked myself was what exactly does one wear to a small concert setting when going to watch/listen to techo-ish music. Is it clubbing, in which case people are decked out trendy? Is it grunge? Is it concert? Hmmm…had to reach out to my lifeline Jennifer Kirsten Binder Capasso to help resolve this critical quandary. Keith, in his hung-over state, lent the valuable advice that black would be a safe choice. As I discussed outfit selection with Jenni, I realized that I had no idea what I had in store for the evening.

Upon entering Rock City with a few glasses of wine under my belt, I first saw a girl wearing vintage/trendy/worn looking jeans, white Converse shoes and a casual fitted white tank. She looked the part. Matt, much more familiar with this musical genre than me, sported a black Carhart t-shirt, trendy worn jeans and black shoes. He looked the part. As Matt and I pushed our way up towards the front and center (because apparently to hear the sound properly you must be in the front and center), I noted the guy wearing enormous, feminine sunglasses. I chuckled to myself and thought that somehow he fit in as well. As the lights began to pick up with the music I actually understood why the large sunglasses were in fact a wise accessory- and I was secretly jealous of the tamed lighting that the Dolce & Gabana boy was experiencing. Gazing across the room, there was certainly a look that these fans all seemed to sport- the retro unstylish/stylish t-shirt, jeans, short hair (many men had shaved heads), and casual unstylish/stylish shoes (e.g. Converse), that I would need to remember for my next techno/dance/trance outing.

Not only did everyone seem to look the part, but they acted the part as well. The mood and energy in the room ebbed and flowed with the music with the audience altering from jumping to standing dead still at a moments notice. As a non-regular, it wasn’t blatantly obvious to me when I was supposed to be standing still- the music was still going…perhaps the bass wasn’t? The expertise of the fans continued to impress as they seemed to recognize each song immediately. This phenomenon wouldn’t be surprising if we were listening to The Killers and they were playing Mr Brightside, but we were listening to techno beats after all (or am I revealing my utter lack of understanding again?!). As if watching the crowd wasn’t entertaining enough, we had the joy of observing random images on a screen just above the stage and large inflatable tubes- perhaps catering to those on substances other than beer and wine?

My keen and naïve observations extended beyond just the crowd and the screen, and I watched the stage with wonder. To my untrained eye, the main character (singer/dancer…not sure what he was exactly) on stage had a striking resemblance to Buddy Holly with his metallic sport coat, light hair and broad smile. Just when I had him pegged as a Buddy Holly look-alike, he would break out into a routine that could only be described as aerobics. Suddenly, I was convinced that it was Richard Simmons that we were all jumping around to. Finally, during the denouement (perhaps not the appropriate term for Trance concert?!) our main character morphed himself into a Stevie Wonder look-alike with eyes shut, beaming smile and slower movements.

The second guy on stage had a role that could only be described as backup. The young man in a black shirt was completely nondescript. Although arguably decent looking, my eyes were never drawn to him.

Oddly, my eyes weren’t drawn to the charismatic silver-sparkled-coat-wearing-entertainer either. I couldn’t avert my attention from the third character on the stage. Thin, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, he resembled a scientist working in a lab. Although he certainly was not the main character, nor did he have any uniquely pleasant traits, the mad scientist was the one who caught my eye. Not once did he look into the crowd or even appear that he was in the same room as anyone else (let alone thousands of screaming and dancing fans!). Perhaps his most striking characteristic was his undivided attention to the machine/lab in front of him, and the resulting ambivalence to the crowd. Ironically, it drew me in!

Despite walking into the concert a novice, I walked out as a new loyal fan of Underworld, easily persuaded to purchase the one-size-fits all (so they claim), £5, black, stretchy Underworld t-shirt. Sadly, with my new curvaceous (aka lack of training) body, the shirt cuts off the circulation in my arms and barely covers my belly. Despite its limitations, I threw the shirt on and enthusiastically sang the lyrics to one of the popular songs: “You’ve been lied to. You’ve been lied to.” I sang to Matt in a stentorian, off-key voice as the taxi driver drove us towards Nuthall.
“What are you singing?” Matt asked with a look of curiosity and amusement. “That song with 3 lyrics that everyone seemed to love, You’ve Been Lied To,” I stated brazenly.
“Oh, you mean, You Bring Life To” Matt states with a smile. I broke into laughter undeterred by my lyrical mistake. I continued to sing You’ve Been Lied To with Matt shaking his head and probably questioning the soundness of his decision to introduce me to the world of trance music.

I went as far as to request that Matt play Underworld upon arriving at his house. I must admit that I am a huge fan of Born Slippy and would recommend that even my non-trance/techno/house friends give it a go! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKLspd7QQw0.

New home in Mapperley Plains

2007-10-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

I suppose moving wouldn't get it's bad rap if everything went smoothly, and I certainly wouldn't uphold my reputation of minimal attention to detail had I taken precise measurements prior to selecting my future home...

Oh, but the house was perfect...not too big or too small. Less than 4 miles from work. Walking distance from shops, and a quick easy jaunt to meet the Sherwood Saturday Club Ride. The only flaw in my perfect new home became immediately apparent as the movers struggled and eventually failed at moving my box springs up the first stairwell. I knew this limitation did not bode well for the enormous couch and entertainment center that were yet to make the attempted journey up the narrow stair case. To my dismay, after the movers left, I had 2 box springs, an entertainment center and a couch sitting in my garage. Just short of resigning to the idea of making my garage my bedroom and living room, I called my landlord who proposed that I hire 'window removers' who might be able to hoist the furniture up into the living room. His idea was not only brilliant, but successful. Matt, his dad Peter, and two window removers successfully emptied my garage and filled my living room with furniture. Phew- disaster once again averted...haven't quite thought through the prospect of moving out of the house!

Bee Sting , Sunday 10 a.m.

2007-09-25T14:29:00.000-07:00

Very much in a non-training mode, Matt and I set out to watch Andy and Sarah complete their first triathlon- the Southwell Last Minute Sprint. About 5 miles into the ride, I felt a sharp sting on the top of my forehead near my hairline. I knew immediately it was a bee (I was stung 2 weekends previously, but it was in my helmet and not able to go all the way through- thus, not the same reaction). After Matt’s burial for the “poor bee" that had died while stinging me, we continued our journey to Southwell. We continued at a more moderate pace, as I melodramatically complained that I had a small dagger in my forehead. We arrived at the triathlon about an hour later and watched Andy take 5th place overall (in a field of 500), and Sarah dominating for women despite the fact that she claims not to be able to cycle well. They were both pleased with their races and we went to Bleasby Café to celebrate and enjoy overpriced by well-worth-it coffees.

Sitting at the café, my forehead continued to feel abnormal. By the end of our meal, Matt mentioned that my face was starting to look a bit funny and took the picture below. Little did he know the alien/feline that I would soon become.
Sunday, 2 p.m.

Despite the ever increasing size of the left hand side of my face, Matt and I joined Sarah and Andy for our favourite Sunday night routine of dinner, drinks and a movie at the Broadway. Clearly, I was pleased to have my picture taken as I got ready for the film. After enjoying Terantino’s wildly entertaining Death Proof, Matt took one look at me and decided that it was time to hit up the old NHS Emergency Room. A quick, pleasant and free visit to the hospital, I walked out with a dose of steroids that were thought to stop the violent and comical reaction I had to the bee. I was only given the medicine after Matt’s drilling the doctor explaining that as an athlete I should not be taking these, and we needed his guarantee that they would be out of my system quickly. The doctor laughed, explaining that he had never heard such concerns and alleviated our fears guaranteeing that they would be out of my system in a matter of hours.
Sunday, 7 p.m.

As the pictures indicate, my face got slightly worse before it improved. I decided to go into work on Monday morning to grab my laptop and work from home. Once I convinced my colleagues that it actually was me, they sent me home immediately stating that it wasn’t fair to the people who sat near me! They were kind enough to purchase an eye mask for me- serving the dual purpose of relieving pressure and covering some of the inflation.
Monday, 7 a.m.

Monday, 2 p.m.

Monday, 6 p.m.

Finally, Thursday morning I woke up back to normal.

Seattle- Binder & Capasso tie the knot

2007-09-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

Jenni must be the most chilled out Bride in the world. Just 3 days before her wedding, she agreed to spend an evening at the beautiful Denny Creek campsite 40 miles outside of Seattle. An hour after arriving in Seattle, we dropped Matt off to explore the city (luckily an independent guy) and Tracy, Gigi and I headed to the mountains. Jenni's tastes are certainly aligned with her friends as we were greeted with wine, cheese, crackers and beer upon arriving at the campsite. We spent the evening catching up on the past year, building a fire, cooking pasta, making s'mores, and of course, playing basket (also known as 'celebrity').

September 13- 15
Rehearsal BBQ, Preparation & the Wedding

The next several days were a pleasant whirlwind of bridesmaid activities (including a luncheon, manicures & pedicures, and even professional hair styling), and catching up with high school friends Catherine, Anne, and Carrie. It was such a treat to all be together after so much time has passed. They are all as nuts as ever, and I can't think of a time when I've laughed as much as I did with them over the past several days. It was pretty much my ideal weekend as not only were my Choate, and DC friends there, but my dad made the trek out to Seattle as well. He is one of Jenni's biggest fans and has been since Jenni and I started our tradition of skiing together every Christmas 15 years ago. Jim Smith not only inspires thought and laughter in conversation, but was also a big hit on the dance floor.

September 12
Jenni & Keith threw an ideal party with a plethora of wine, delicious food, and the band Two Buck Chuck who specialized in variety, playing everything from Van Morrison, John Denver, and Keith's special request JT's 'Sexy Back'.

An English boy & American girl visit the siblings & nephew in San Francisco

2007-09-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

Carrie and Sam were ideal hosts- satisfying all of my U.S. cravings (e.g. Mexican food, big American breakfasts, fresh bagels, Margaritas, Fat Tire beer, inexpensive shopping, etc.) and demonstrating to Matt (1st time visitor from England) that San Francisco is one of the greatest cities in the world.

In addition to seeing Carrie and Sam, the impetus for the trip was to meet my nephew William James Keating, AKA Dubs. To be clear, I am the only one who calls him Dubs- I'm sure my sister & Sam will catch on soon! He is just as perfect as as my mom and dad described- he has cyclist or President written all over him. In addition to his cycling aptitude (based on his forceful kicks in the air with his long legs), Dubs showed patience, appetite for adventure, and endurance on our multiple full day excursions. Although I wouldn't quite describe myself as 'broody', I did find myself completely attached to him in a few short days

Sunday, September 9

Our action packed day started with a trip to Muir woods to check out the enormous redwoods and to stroll around the popular forest. Driving along the scenic road to Stensin beach, Matt and I watched the hordes of cyclists with awe and envy. The Marin County roads are a cyclists dream and the Californians were certainly taking advantage of everything they had to offer. The focus of our trip was certainly not exercise, and the vineyards were calling. We drove to Sonoma to have a taste of Cline, Jacuzzi and Viansa's vinos.

Viansa was not only the most ideal wedding venue for Carrie and Sam to tie the knot in May of 2005, but also turned out to be a great place for an outdoor lunch. The final stop in our day was the pleasant town of Sasilito for coffee and art shopping.

September 10-12
We continued with our fulfilling days with walks around Presidio (and modest attempts at the fitness trail), shopping in Union Square (with some 'shoe testing'/dancing in Nordstroms),

and delicious and lengthy meals in Carrie and Sam's beautiful new home.

Carrie graciously fulfilled on our request to visit Alcatraz (despite her less than favorable views of Fisherman's Wharf -where the 'tourists are contained'). After learning about all of the gangstas and the repercussions of giving someone the whack, Carrie, Matt and I made our way to check out the noisy, stinky seals.

After our busy few days, we were overdue for some pampering. Recognizing that Carrie and I don't get to spend nearly enough time together, Cita was kind enough to treat us to pedicures for bonding & relaxation.

All in all, it was a perfect trip and so neat to see the lives that Carrie and Sam have made for themselves in SF.

Back to Reality, but enjoying it!

2007-08-30T14:27:00.000-07:00

Life in Nuthall, England
August has been an interesting month of settling back into work, looking for a home, getting lost literally daily (as I commute on the 20+ year old, suspension-less, heavy bici decked out with mudguards and a bell!) attending weddings, and humbly attempting (unsuccessfully) to stay fit.

Although I tend to whine about not traveling, technically I'm getting around quite a bit- just more locally. Over the past month & half, I've explored parts of England that I hadn't seen before i.e. the east coast near Norwich and the south coast in Devon. I've also hit the standard places in Derbyshire, Leicester and many of the villages around Nottingham.

Chris Walker's Wedding

Flintham, England
July 28

http://walkerthestalker.talkware.co.uk/

Chris and Rachel's wedding was a blast, and like nothing I've ever seen e.g. entertainers (dressed in leotards, feathers...and that's about it!), prizes for Last Man/Woman Standing and Best Air Guitar. Their wedding song/first dance was Queen's Don't Stop Me Now with the professional dancers in the background. Chris & Rachel certainly know how to entertain a crowd and their country home was the perfect venue for the evening. Unfortunately, my pictures don't capture the degree of entertainment.

Norfolk, England

August 4-5
Visiting the Charity Family
Matt and I spent the weekend hanging out with his family (including the pups Misty and Suzy) on the east coast. The days were spent relaxing with walks, hanging out by the water, and enjoying good pub food.

Jane & Rod's Wedding

Georgeham, Devon, England

August 11-12

Perhaps the nicest part of England! It certainly helped that the weather was perfect. The beaches are beautiful- who knew England had waves and surfing?! It was a quick trip down to the Devon. Jane and Rod are both cyclists who I met in the Sherwood (aka Parrots) cycling club. Jane now works for Nike in Amsterdam and Rod coaches cycling in Italy (the secret to a happy marraige!!) The wedding was filled with cycling nuts- my ideal!!

Nottingham- Daily Life...
(with trips to Derbyshire, Leicester, and Nottinghamshire villages e.g. Bleasby)

Pictures of life in Notts...commuting to work, eating scones and drinking the world's best coffee at Bleasby Cafe, watching Hound of the Baskervilles at Newstead Abbey, healing the collar bone with the bone stimulator, more coffee stops, hanging out with the Charity family, friends from work and cycling friends, lots of good meals (too many!!)...

Post Sabbatical- What's Next? Lessons Learned

2007-07-23T08:28:00.000-07:00

So what's next after 7 months away from work to pursue life long dreams? Hard to say. Certainly take 4 on starting and completing an Ironman- I still have to get it out of my system. Perhaps some bike racing- now that the legs are verging on "not fitting into women's jeans" (according to Kyle), I better put them to use. Perhaps going back to work (so I can afford another sabbatical!).

I have learned a couple of lessons and had a few subtle reminders while away:

1.) Avoid rocks in the road!

2.) It is possible to miss a flight even when traveling with 2 of the most responsible women in the world (i.e. mom & Joanne. Sorry Turbo, you fall more into my camp)

3.) Don't ever take on a Kiwi in a kayaking race (Duncan, we're still in awe)

4.) No matter how many sombreros are in the window, Mexican food is just not the same outside of the US and Mexico (based on hopeful samples in Thailand, NZ, OZ & France)

5.) Thank, appreciate, and be grateful for friends and family- they may just save you if ever stranded in a foreign country or kicked off a continent!

6.) It is possible to gain weight despite burning >6,000 calories a day!

7.) When you think the pedals won't turn over one more time- push harder.

8.) One can go a long time without a shower in the right company (thanks Jason & Alli!)

9.) A best friend is always a best friend and family is always family, regardless of the miles (thank you mom/Dave, dad/Kathy, Carrie/Sam and Jenni)

10.) If possible, don't fall in love just before a 7 month solo trip around the world!

Stage 20- Paris here we come!!!

2007-07-23T00:55:00.000-07:00

Marcoussis-Paris Champs Elysees
Morale 10/10

To our complete disbelief, the roads of Paris did not close for our arrival! Legitimate concerns about the utter chaos in Paris, especially the multi-laned Champs Elysees prevented us from doing the exact TdF course for the final stage. We made our grand entrance anyway- decked out once again in the yellow, green, white and polka dot jerseys We rode up the cobbled Champs Elysees with enormous smiles on our faces and a bottle of champagne in the jersey pocket. Upon arrival, we momentarily felt like celebrities as we were surrounded by tourists who wanted to have their pictures taken with us. Odd yes, but we obliged feeling a bit giddy, and dare I say proud.

We took our pride to unprecedented levels with a quick change of jerseys and a photo shoot honoring our sponsors!

Stage 19- Time Trial (35 miles)

2007-07-23T00:13:00.001-07:00

Cognac-Angouleme
Morale: 9/10

After staying in a somewhat sketchy hotel last night, redeemed only by it's absurdly low cost and it's free wi-fi, we completed the second and final time trial. I did my best to look around and enjoy the beautiful French landscape, as in a few days I know I'll be craving those surroundings. 35 miles almost doesn't seem worth getting on the bike for these days! I've reached the point where my legs warm up around 70 miles and I feel good until about mile 110.

Matt, Emma, Kyle, Mark and I are in the camper van for the 5 hour journey up to Marcosse from Angouleme. It's certainly hard to believe that tomorrow is the last day. It's a strange feeling to spend hours in the van driving- it feels like we should be cycling. It feels odd not to be wearing lycra and a jersey stuffed with gels, pump, tubes, a phone and power bars.

The harsh reality has begun to sink in as I had a job interview about 20 minutes ago (my Capital One job was never 100% guaranteed). I requested that we pull over at a rest stop so I didn't have to do the interview with my fellow Tour riders. As comfortable as we are together now, I had visions of sheer laughter, rating signs, talk of butt cuts, etc. during my attempt to focus on something other than cycling. Sitting on the side of the road with trucks screaming by, I did my best to engage my head long enough to have a coherent conversation. (Luckily, it did go well and sounds as if I just might have a job!).

Stage 18- Last long ride!!! (130 miles)

2007-07-18T22:51:00.000-07:00

Cahors to Angouleme

Climbs: Minimal- rolling hills, 4 Cat 4s
Morale: 8/10

Now we are seriously getting close to Paris. We've already begun discussions of celebration plans once we arrive. That said, we tend to drag our rides out with lengthy camper van stops as we refuel and discuss the upcoming miles. Our conversations seem to get more and more loopy as the days go on...perhaps a result of too many hours in the saddle.

Stage 18 greeted us with beautiful scenery...corn fields, enormous castles, rivers, quaint villages, and of course, more sunflowers as we rode through France's Dordogne region. We completed the ride around 7 pm- standard for us. Striking out in finding a campsite, we decided on a hotel. Only 2 more nights in the camper van.

Stage 17- Post Pyrenees Blues (116 miles)

2007-07-17T13:01:00.000-07:00

Pau to Catelsarrasin
Morale: 5/10
Climbs: 5 Cat 4s, 1 Cat 3

It is with mixed emotions that we left the Pyrenees and have completed all of the mountain stages. There was something exciting about analysing the profiles of the climbs, anticipating the pain and suffering and then the subsequent rewarding feeling of reaching the top. The mindset of the group became slightly complacent as we discussed how once we finished the Pyrenees we would basically just 'roll into Paris!'

There was certainly no rolling with stage 17 (other than uphill). 116 miles is still 116 miles, even if there aren't significant climbs. The previous day's climbing took a toll on our legs and therefore we moved much slower than we would have liked. During the stops in the camper van we entertained ourselves by thinking of every possible way we could make the ride more bearable e.g. what if the brake slipped and our driver, Emma, accidentally rolled forward some 30 miles! Alternatively, what if she 'accidentally' reversed into all of our bikes thus eliminating the option of riding further that day. We continued to think through all of the possible scenarios with the ideas getting more and more absurd, and then finally settled on the realization that we simply had to suck it up and keep turning the pedals.

The moods eventually improved as we approached our destination. The scenery was beautiful in the rolling sunflower hills. We completed the stage. We're one step closer to Paris...so close we can almost taste it!

Stage 16- Hands Down Hardest Stage of the Tour (136 miles)

2007-07-17T12:47:00.000-07:00

Orthez to Gourette
Morale: 6/10
Climbs: >17,000 feet of climbing!!!! 2 Cat 1s, 2 HCs, 1 Cat 3
Time: 10 hours, 10 minutes riding time!

Stage 16 has been in my head from the moment I flipped through Velo New's Tour de France edition. I distinctly remember sitting on the couch at my dad's house in Colorado and showing him the climbing profile, and thinking if anything stops us from completing the Tour it will most likely be stage 16.

The first climb of the day, Port de Larrau, had us all asking some serious questions of our legs and our ability to complete the stage. It's not often that I look down to see my computer showing anything under 5 mph. I consider 5mph to be my desperation speed. Climbing up one section of the Larrau with a headwind that must have been ~30 mph, I saw 3.2 mph!!! The legs were barely turning over, and I was on the first climb of the day. The summit of the climb crosses the Spanish border. I was greeted with a 'que bueno' and 'de donde eres?' from la policia at the top of the climb. How nice to be in a country where I speak the language- if only for a couple of climbs.

It was well after 7 pm when we started the final climb- Col d'Aubisque. A thick fog had appeared as I slowly made my way to the top focusing on the dotted white lines in the middle of the road. It was a bit eerie and motivating at the same time. Just me and the elements- the sound of the wheels & my heavy breathing. My arms were covered in white dew that almost looked like snow. My vision was limited to about 5 feet. Greeted once again by the camper van, I quickly put on warm clothes, thankful that our final climb was in such a pleasant temperature. Darkness was quickly approaching and we made our way down the climb to our campsite- arriving after 10 pm!

Rest Day!!!- Oloron

2007-07-15T06:46:00.001-07:00

Morale 10+++/10!!

We made it to our second and final rest day. Feet up, relaxed, watching The Tour on TV- life couldn't get any better.

Stage 15- We survived (climbing & heat & more climbing & more heat) 124 miles

2007-07-15T06:25:00.000-07:00

Foix- Loudenvielle Le Louron

Climbs: 2 Cat 2s (Col de Port & Col de Portel d'Aspet), 2 Cat 1s (Col de Mente & Col de Peyresourde), 1 HC (Port de Bales)
Morale 6/10

Stage 16 is rated as one of the hardest stages of the Tour, and I certainly concur with the assessment. The first 2 category 2 climbs of the day serve as a nice warm-up for the rigorous category 1 and HC climbs ahead.

Michael Barry (unfortunately not the Canadian Professional cyclist Michael Barry, but still a strong rider), flew to France to join us for the famous Etape stage. Michael races in Ireland and took part in the Tour of Ireland where Mark and I met him in May. It was great to have an additional person to join in the fun/suffering, especially for this particular Pyrenees stage.

Just as I was pulling my head out of the trough of water at the top of the second Cat 2 climb, I was approached by a cyclist “Amy, right?” he asked. “We did the Tour of Ireland together.” “Oh yeah, you look familiar” I said, shaking the water out of my ears and recovering from the shock of freezing water pouring down my spine. Coincidentally, there were several guys from the Tour of Ireland in town to do the Etape stage. We chatted for awhile about the difficulty of the Etape, the stages of the Tour, and then wished each other luck and carried on for to complete the upcoming climbs.

We had anticipated, feared and discussed the HC climb (i.e. Port de Bales) to such an extent that I was prepared for the worst. The climb is 20 kilometers and the final 10 KM includes switchbacks averaging over 10% grade. Halfway up the Port de Bales I felt my pedals even harder to push than normal and I looked down to find the tarmac melting right under my wheels. “Holy sh**!” I stated out loud just as two cyclists were descending slowly over the melted road. They laughed and nodded with empathy. The rocks on the road then stuck to my tires and despite my best efforts to remove them with my gloves, I seemed to carry half the road up to the summit with me. Arriving at the top, I was greeted by a French cyclist who did not speak a word of English. He applauded my efforts and gave me a full bottle of cold water and then disappeared a few minutes later. Some sort of positive cycling karma must have occurred as we were not meeting the camper van at the top of the climb, I was completely out of water, and I had awhile to wait for the others.

The final climb was also tolerable, especially knowing that it was the last one of the day and we had a rest day in Oloron on Sunday. We survived one of the hardest Tour stages and have just one more with absurd climbing. I can begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel!

Stage 14- Stifling heat, grueling climbs, spectacular scenery! (125 miles)

2007-07-13T13:32:00.000-07:00

Mazamet- Plateau de Beille
Time in saddle: 8 hours 55 minutes
Climbs: 1 Cat 2 (Col de St Saraille), 2 HCs (Port de Pailheres & Plateau de Beille)
Morale 8/10

Today was our first real day in the Pyrenees, and apparently the easiest- frightening thought considering how much time we spent pedaling today and how tough the climbs were. We certainly have our work cut out for us on stages 15 & 16. Despite waking up 5:50 am, setting off at 7 am, we didn't arrive to our campsite in Paux until 7:30 pm.

The first 80 miles were great. We started out the day with a Cat 2 climb, but at a very steady pace, so it wasn't too challenging. The next few hours we rode through a gorge and we may even have had a tailwind. What a pleasant change. The next 43 miles of climbs and descents was our first real exposure to the heat that we've been lucky enough to avoid up until now. One of the most inviting sights of the day was the trough with running water at the bottom of the first HC climb. To me it resembled a glacial lake inviting me to jump in and prevent my body from melting. The freezing water was a little slice of heaven and it wasn't for a few kilometers that I remembered that my cell phone went in the bath with me- oooppps!

The second best sight of the day was the purple polka dotted camper van on the second HC climb with Matt and Emma handing out cokes, water and accelerade. Anticipating my every need, they were literally holding a bottle of cold water as I was asking if I could swap bottles as my water bottle was empty. A few minutes later they drove by me with a handful of something colorful. Although not quite as performance enhancing as EPO, it was the next best thing...a handful of gummies. The sweets hit the spot and I cycled with a smile (mostly a smile) to the top of the 16 kilometer climb to see my name, along with Matt, Kyle and Mark's and Letour2007.com painted on the road. What a welcoming!

Stage 13 miles- Why can't everyday be a time trial?

2007-07-13T13:29:00.000-07:00

Albi to Albi
Climbs: 1 cat 4
Morale: 10/10!!!

Relative to all of the stages that we've completed, today's ride least resembled what the Pros will experience for stage 13. Although we rode the same number of miles and traveled the exact same course that they will in 9 days time, our approach and effort were drastically different than theirs. For the pros, the time trial means 30+ miles with aero helmets, 100% effort, time trial bikes, mouths gaping open, heart rates off the charts, quads burning and endless amounts of suffering. For us, on the other hand, time trial day meant riding 4 abreast down quiet country lanes taking pictures and videos as we traveled along at a relaxed pace. Time trial day is the day we looked forward to the most (other than rest days) as it's about 80 miles less than we're used to doing. Time trial day meant 'mandatory' sleeping in until at least 8 a.m (that rule designed specifically for me), french pressed coffee, a relaxing breakfast outside in the sun. "Apparently, cycling can be pleasant," Mark states as we're laughing, chatting, turning the pedals in absolute perfect conditions i.e. low 70s, no wind, and sun. The highlight was certainly the switchback descent about 20 kilometers into the ride. Even I was travelling faster than 30 mph (despite the parachute I was wearing), so I can't begin to imagine what the pros will do down the hill.

Recognizing that there might be some monotony involved in spending all day, everyday on the bike, Matt added some entertainment by purchasing and requiring each of us to wear one of the 4 significant Tour jerseys- polka dot, green, white and of course, the yellow jersey. Considering what the others had to wear, I felt that I made out fairly well to be in the white jersey, arguably the most understated of the four. While I don't technically qualify for the young rider's jersey (i.e. <25 class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">men's large and would probably be too big for my dad (who is a large man). I was swimming in it. At one point Kyle warned me to ensure that it didn't get caught in my spokes! We made quite a spectacle of ourselves riding through Albi decked out in tour kit, and received everything from confused stares, to smiles, to cars honking.

Taking advantage of an afternoon with free time, we hit the local bar to watch the actual Tour. We offered endless excuses as to why they were finishing the stages in half the time that we were...everything from lack of wind, pelaton, support crews, domestiques came into the equation. Inferior legs and lungs somehow was never mentioned!

We even had time for grocery shopping and to make fajitas in the camper van!

Stage 12- Approaching the Pyrenees (110 miles)

2007-07-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

Montpellier to Castres

Morale: 8/10

Climbs: Not much- 2 Cat 4s, 1 Cat 2

Just Mark, Kyle and I rode today. Matt helped his wife Emma learn the daily rituals of sagging for the bike crew. As Brian is off to Wales today to sleep in a normal bed, return to his wife and a more civilized daily routine, Emma has kindly stepped in to help us get through the 2nd part of the tour.

We said our goodbyes to Brian and started the ride with a pleasantly cool temperature. The wind had died down to reasonable levels, thus enhancing the mood of the group. A couple of hours into the ride we stopped to purchase some highly necessary pain au chocolate and croissants. Due to poor planning (or good planning, depending on how you look at it!), we were greeted by the camper van about 10 minutes after our first stop, which had also made a recent stop at the bakery. It would have been rude not to consume the fresh pastries that Matt and Emma had bought for us, so we made a bit more space in the bellies before tackling the next climb.

The big climb at the end of the day was very manageable, as somehow we had sunshine and a mist simultaneously. I was thankful for Mother Nature’s little gift (perhaps she was feeling guilty after yesterday’s relentless headwind), and didn’t even mind the rainstorm that we encountered during the final descent. Rain barely phases me anymore.

Reaching our campsite and knowing that tomorrow is ‘time trial day’, essentially a rest day relative to what we’ve been doing, had us all in great moods and optimistic about surviving at least a few more stages.

Stages 14, 15 & 16 are still very much part of our daily (almost hourly) thoughts. One of the rituals during breakfast, lunch, after the rides, and before we go to bed is to review the upcoming profiles in the many Tour de France cycling magazines floating around the camper van. We never seem to tire of rehashing just how many climbs there are and just how steep they will be.

Stage 11- Headwinds suck! (108 miles)

2007-07-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

Marseilles to Montpellier

Climbs: basically a flat stage, 1 easy Cat 4

Morale: 7/10

Despite having a headwind from the moment we set out on the course, everyones spirits were particularly high today. We set out at 6 am, about 2 hours earlier than normal (!!), so Brian could take Laura to the airport to catch a flight back to the states. We had anticipated a headwind, but perhaps not to the degree that we encountered. We averaged just over 15 mph despite having no climbs. Ouch (yesterday's average was around 18 mph). Our desire to follow behind large vehicles going slowly never materialized, thus we were left to fight the wind on our own. Having started the day so early, we made it to the campsite by 4 and were able to enjoy a leisurely dinner and some relaxation time.

Stage 10- Half Way & Summer has arrived! (143 miles)

2007-07-09T11:18:00.000-07:00

Tallard to Marseilles
Morale 9/10 (!!)
Climbs: 2 Cat 4s, 2 Cat 3s

I loved today! Although we did set out to some morning rain, we quickly shed our coats and put on sunscreen. Without rain, we could enjoy the scenery of apple orchards, vineyards, castles, quaint villages, more sunflowers, etc. It seemed that we traveled downhill for the first 100 miles with no headwind. My legs were thankful and actually felt fresh all day.

Brian continued to replenish the food supply and keep our bellies full with sandwiches, quiche, pizza, pastries, candies, etc. during our rest stops. We arrived in hot, busy, Marseille at a reasonable hour to order pizza to be delivered to our camper van!

Stage 9- Last Day in the Alps! (100 miles)

2007-07-09T11:17:00.000-07:00

Val-d’Isere to Briancon

Morale 8/10
Climbs: 2 HCs, 1 Cat 1

Perhaps it was due to the excessive resting (i.e. 2 days in a lovely hotel in Tignes), or the fact that Col de I’Iseran is rated an HC climb (i.e. very steep and very long), or that we had essentially no warm-up prior to the steep grade of the mountain. Whatever it was, I did nothing but struggle up the first climb of the day. My heart was jumping out of my chest from the first switchback. ‘Kyle, do I have a flat tire?’ I asked, around kilometer 3. ‘Nope, looks just fine,’ he replies to my dismay. A few kilometers later ‘Kyle, are you hanging onto my saddle’, I enquire. ‘No again,’ he laughs. I finally made it to the top where Brian commented that my face looked quite red. Lucky for me, we had a 50 mile descent (literally) where my legs finally started to function. The descent was just what I needed and I didn’t even mind the head wind. Eventually, we made it to the dreaded St Michel-de-Maurienne where we would begin the two back to back epic climbs- Col du Telegraphe and Col du Galibier. I felt good, actually didn’t overeat at our lunch stop and made it up both climbs without too much of a problem. Of course they hurt, but nothing compared to my first climb of the day. We were greeted at the top of the Galibier with a rain storm, thus making the descent slower than we would have wanted. Regardless, we all survived and happily arrived in Briancon where it appeared to actually be summer.

Reflections of Cycling TdF (after 8 stages)

2007-07-06T03:04:00.000-07:00

Bottom line- it's hard, it's really, really hard. The depth of the challenge is almost inexplicable. The stats so far...

Distance cycled: 980 miles

Climbing: 20,112 meters, ~66,000 feet

Riding Time: 66 hours 30 minutes

Average daily saddle time: 8 hours 30 minutes

My eating, breathing, and thinking is basically centered around my bike and figuring out how I can push through the upcoming miles. That said, we have arrived in Tigne, our first rest day, and I'm enjoying a cup of hot chocoate with my feet up. I can once again say that life is good!

The Challenges
Despite excessive preparation, both mentally and physically, I would argue that it's nearly impossible to really understand the difficulty of the Tour de France (and we're not even racing!). The most straight forward part of preparing is putting in the miles and getting the legs ready. The difficulty that one can't prepare for is the unexpected struggles along the way that are ofted unrelated to fitness. Those challenges include the elements, the body and general logistics.

The Elements

Packing for the trip, I decided at the last minute to throw in clothes such as winter gloves, leg warmers, and long sleeved jerseys. It is July afterall, I thought, there's no way I'll need this stuff, but I'll throw it in just in case. I expected to be dying of heat. Thank goodness I did bring along winter gear. Suntans and sunscreen certainly haven't been a factor so far. Cycling for 8 hours is tough in perfect conditions. Cycling 8 hours in pouring rain takes a unique breed of human!

In addition to the cold weather and rain, the wind is something that is hard to prepare for mentally. It can be discouraging to push the pedals as hard as possible and look down to see that you're moving 15 mph on a flat section. Although it seems like months ago, we spent the first 3 days riding in a paceline attempting to take turns shielding the wind from one another.

The Body

(please don't read if you're grossed out easily. Mom, definitely don't read!)

The body can break down in ways that are completely unexpected. I'm not surprised that my knees are starting to ache a bit and that my quads, hamstrings and glutes talk to me when walking up stairs or stepping out of the camper van. The unexpected soreness such as blisters on my feet ?? (from the rain, perhaps) and the bum area have taken me by surprise. I have certainly heard about the dreaded lower region issues; however, I didn't realize just how difficult they can make a day on the bike. During the endless riding hours I've had time to analyze the various issues that one can have in that region. I've broken it down into 3 unique issues. I feel as though I'm an expert since I sadly have experienced all 3 i.e. butt cuts, chafing, saddle soars. Perhaps Matt Denman described it best when he stated that he feels as though he's been attacked by a cheese grater in that region. It has become an open and frequent discussion among the group and we can't keep enough of the chamois cream and anticeptic on hand!

Logistical Challenges

Camper van life

Living in such a small space with 6 people can be a challenge. That said, I'm impressed with how well everyone seems to be working together. Matt's dad, Brian, has really made the trip. He cleans the camper van, helps with laundry, does the shopping, prepares the lunches and snack breaks, meets us every 30 or so miles, encourages up climbs and offers a smile every time we reach him. There is absolutely no way we could survive without him.

Although the space is confined, I'm sleeping very well in my little bunk bed/cave (must have something to do with the fact that I'm riding my bike >8 hours a day).

It does take the group ages to get ready in the morning. Despite waking up around 6 am, we struggle to get on the road before 8.

Punctures

Punctures are simply a fact of riding; however, at the wrong moment, they can be completely demoralizing. Running totals: Mark 4, Matt 4, Kyle 3, Laura 1. I have been fortunate enough not to have 1 puncture the entire time (thanks again to Matt's work on my bike prior to the trip). Now I'm guaranteed to get one due to bragging and overconfidence!

Navigation

Mark and Matt have done a phenomenal job of mapping out the exact tour course and downloading it to their GPS. That said, we do have a few missed turns that often add on a couple unnecessary miles. On a 120 mile day, I start to look forward to the end around mile 115. When it doesn't arrive until mile 125, I often come close to sense of humor failures!

The Good Stuff (and there is a lot of it!)

The highlight of every day is getting out of my cycling shorts and enjoying a bottle of 'chocolate milk', which I begin to look forward to about 20 miles from the end of every ride. The 'chocolate milk' is actually chocolate flavored Endurox (i.e. recovery drink that supposedly has the right balance of proteins, carbs and fats for post exercise). There is nothing better than relaxing in the van knowing that I don't need to get on my bike for approximately 12 hours.

It would be impossible to list all of the wonderful things that we've been able to experience over the past 9 days. When I'm suffering the most, I force my mind to think of all the things that I am so lucky to be doing, seeing, experiencing, etc. To name a couple: seeing the entire country of France, being outside 12 hours a day, feeling fit, eating as many pastries/pizzas/breads/candies/desserts, etc. as I want (and then some), not going to work, spending time with friends, being uninjured, glimpsing a piece of what the hardest men in the world (i.e. pro cyclists) undergo, hearing encouraging words from the people we meet and our friends and family, showering after 12 hours in the rain, viewing the towns and villages decked out in tour decorations, reaching the top of a summit that I feared for days, the sun peaking through the clouds after hours of rain, flying down long descents after surviving a climb, receiving phone calls/texts/email from Matt, family, friends with their complete support.

Despite the suffering, challenges and periodic low morale scores, I am grateful to have this opportunity, and recognize that it may be one of the greatest experiences of my life.

Stage 8- Dear Lord- we have done some climbing! (107 miles)

2007-07-06T02:46:00.000-07:00

Le Grand Bornand- Tignes

Morale: 0.8/10 start of the day, 5/10 rest of the day

Climbs: 5037 meters, ~16,000 feet (1 Cat 4, 1 Cat 3, 1 Cat 2, 3 Cat 1s)

Today was certainly the hardest day to get on the bike that we've had so far. It rained and rained and rained the entire evening. The camper van amplifies the sound, making it seem even worse than it really is. 6:15 a.m. we groggily moved around the tight space to eat as much granola and baguettes as possible, find as many dry clothes as possible, fill bottles and set out on the wet bikes.

Wearing water proof socks, booties, leg warmers, a long sleeve shirt, jersey, rain coat, winter gloves, hat, and rain cape, it was hard to believe that it was the 5th of July. clearly, the smart ones in the group, Kyle and Laura decided to stay in for the first section of the ride. Matt, Mark and I hit the Alps somewhat unenthusiastically.

Luckily, the rain eventually slowed and we even began to see a few patches of sun. Laura decided to join us for the Cat 2 and the first two Cat 1 climbs. The more people to share the suffering, the better! For the last climb, the numbers had dwindled down to just Mark and me. We had already been riding for over 7 hours and the evening was quickly approaching. The only thing between me and the rest day was a 18 kilometer, Cat 1 climb. Although I hate to admit that cumulative cycling affected me, the fact that I couldn't get my legs to move faster than 7 miles per hour was a sure sign that the miles were taking their toll. Somehow I slogged my way to the top and felt relieved that I had made it through the first 8 stages without missing out on any of the miles or climbs.

To celebrate our arrival to the rest day, we enjoyed a few beers, fondue (typical Alps cuisine), and checked into a hotel in Tignes. What a luxury to have a bath and a bed after 8 days in the camper van!

Stage 7- We are certainly in the Alps (123 miles)

2007-07-06T02:37:00.000-07:00

Bourg En Bresse- Le Grand Bornand

Morale: 5/10

Climbs: 3350 meters, 11,055 feet (2 Cat 3s, 1 Cat 4, 1 Cat 1)

Matthew Charity, we made it past your prediction of 'only surviving 6 stages!'

Laura, Mark and I enjoyed 3 hours of dry weather! Just as we were taking a 'comfort break,' the downpour began and we hid under trees waiting for it to pass. Recognizing that the rain probably wouldn't stop, we mustered up the motivation to get back on the bikes.

The last climb of the day was certainly an eye opener. Had the Col de Colombiere (Cat 1) been the only climb of the day or earlier in the day, it might not have been too tough; however, it was after already cycling 100 miles on day 7, and simply making it to the top took some serious digging.

I couldn't have asked for a better sight than the purple polka dotted camper van and Brian's smiling face greeting me at the top with a hot cup of coffee.

Stage 6- I don’t think I get this wet even in the shower! (124 miles)

2007-07-03T13:33:00.000-07:00

Semur en Auxois-Bourg en Bresse

Morale 3/10

I am not exaggerating when I claim that the rain did not stop for 1 second the entire day. We got a bit of a late start…we didn’t leave until 10 am due to various factors- desire to sleep in a bit, slow moving for 5 to get ready in a camper van, inaccurate assessment of how long the ‘flat, easy’ stage would take us. Cycling in just after 8 pm on a dark, busy road in a downpour, we realized that perhaps we should have head out earlier in the day. It also meant that by the time we showered, ate and set up the camper van, it was well past our bedtime.

On a sunny day, the scenery would have been great. We rode past many vineyards, through rolling hills, and down country lanes. By mile 30, Kyle was starting to have some issues (as to be expected of one who just came off the bike a week ago), and he and Laura decided to call it a day. They made themselves very useful by helping Brian prepare a hot pasta meal during our 2nd lunch stop. On a rainy day, the food stops are certainly the highlight!

Hoping the rain goes away as we enter the Alps tomorrow…

Stage 5 - Land of Rolling Hills (120 miles)

2007-07-03T12:58:00.001-07:00

Chablis- Autun

Morale 8/10

I thoroughly enjoyed stage 5. The sun was out for most of the day and the scenery continued to impress with sunflowers and green fields (very England-ish). We experienced 2 downpours. One at the most optimal time- during our lunch break. We huddled into the camper van and waited for the rain to pass (meanwhile consuming sandwich/croissant/pain au chocolate…basically anything we could get our hands on). Matt’s dad, Brian, has been instrumental in making the ride work for us. We meet up with him about every 40 miles or so and he has hot coffee and fresh food waiting for us. Ideal. My confidence that we’ll finish the tour is increasing considering we’re on day 5 and the legs still feel pretty good. No issues yet…other than the nagging bum issues!

Stage 4- Good weather, sunflowers, great day (125 Miles)

2007-07-01T12:30:00.000-07:00

Villers Cotterets-Joigney

Morale 8/10

My favorite day so far!

So nice to start out the day with a group of 9 i.e. the regulars- Kyle, Mark, Matt and me. Laura has now joined and will ride with us for over a week (thank goodness for fresh legs). 3 people from Acxiom will ride with us for 4 of the stages. We also had a random French guy cycle with us for the first 30 miles. Chatting amongst the group made the first 30 miles tick by quickly. We were greeted by the support car that happened to have peanut butter- woo-hoo! Finally. I have been craving it since we began and haven’t found any so far (the French obviously don’t know the secret to endurance cycling!). I thoroughly enjoyed an enormous French baguette filled with a banana and peanut butter. I couldn’t have been happier.

The other great part about today’s ride was the scenery. We passed many of the sunflower fields that are often captured as the background to the Tour pelaton. Today was the first day that I really felt like I was on the Tour route. It was also the first day that I wasn’t counting down the seconds to get off my bike. It took my legs ages to warm up ~85 miles, but started to feel really good (the peanut butter must have kicked in). My spirits are high now and I’m looking forward to stage 5. Andy, we made it past your stage 3 wager (!) and still going strong.

Stage 3 Longest day and No Rain! (147 miles)

2007-06-30T13:19:00.000-07:00

Waregem-Compiegne

Morale- 6/10

Perfect temperatures. Lots of food.
General issues- general bum region beginning to suffer (probably from yesterday's ride in the rain).

Although stage 3 is the longest stage of the Tour, it certainly won't be the most difficult or the longest day in the saddle. The ride is essentially flat, with a few rollers at the end.

We were all losing steam and met up with the camper van with 50 miles to go. Laura (Kyle's fiance) arrived in Brussels that morning and greeted us with twizzlers (a perfect cycling treat) and chamois cream (highly necessary) I loaded up on both and had renewed spirits to complete the ride!

Stage 2- Belgian Toothpaste (110 miles)

2007-06-30T13:14:00.000-07:00

Dunkirk-Ghent

Morale: 4/10

Rain the entire day until the last 20 miles. Certainly clear that we were in Belgium. We were all reminded of the Tour of Flanders ride that we had completed the previous April with non-stop cross-winds, Belgium toothpaste all over our faces, completely soaked and excessive punctures...not the best day on the bike, but we made it! (~10 hours after starting).

Stage 1- London to Canterbury (122 Miles)

2007-06-30T13:09:00.000-07:00

A very pleasant day on the bike...

Morale: 7/10- (nice English countryside and villages)
Difficulty: 2/10- long day, but rolling hills- nothing too demanding
General Pain: 1/10- no issues (probably won't be able to say that much longer!)

If only all stages could be like stage 1. Cool weather (but no rain), fresh legs, rolling hills, nice countryside.

Kyle was certainly the hero of the day. Just a few days after breaking his collar bone, he decided to give stage 1 a go and joined us for the ride.

Prologue (5 Miles)- Shouldn't be this hard!

2007-06-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

June 27, 2007

Morale 6/10 (too much rain, but only 5 miles with big meal to look forward to!)

Arriving in our flat just off of London Bridge we hurried into our new team jerseys and shorts ('kit' as the English say) with plans to set out by 7:00 pm. Running a bit late, Matt, Kyle, Mark Special guest Mike Davis, and I hit the busy London streets to begin the official route of the Tour Prologue. One would expect an 8km ride to take approximately 20 minutes. Over an hour later we returned to our flat. We set out just in time for a major downpour and heavy rush hour traffic. It was hard to look up from the curbs, wheels in front, trash in the street to appreciate the famous London landmarks that we passed. At one point Matt grumbled, 'Amy, Buckingham Palace' with a gesture pointing to the left. I nodded, smiled and carried on pedalling attempting to avoid any cycling disasters.

We finally made it back to the flat, just in time for the rain to stop. We were rewarded with a delicious pasta meal that set us on the right track for stage one.

TdF- It's really here

2007-06-27T03:00:00.001-07:00

After an entire year of talk and preparation, July 27, 2007 is actually here. Bags packed, bike cleaned and looked over (thank you Matt!), legs trained and now rested, and we're heading out in the new RV in a few short hours to begin the 8 Km Prologue in London.

Letour2007 Riders- 50% broken collar bones in '07!

2007-06-25T16:09:00.000-07:00

It would require a great deal of optimism (even more than I have) to say that Kyle is off to a smooth start with his trip to England and the upcoming Tour de France. After a multi-hour delay on the DC runway, a missed flight from Toronto to London, Kyle had the pleasure of spending the entire day in Toronto waiting for the next flight- a red eye to take him to London. Despite his delays, a middle seat that didn't recline and screaming children near him, he arrived in London optimistic that he could catch a flight to Newcastle and make it to the big ride that we had planned in Scotland for Sunday afternoon. Learning that his bags did not make the journey over the pond, combined with the delays, we decided that logistically Scotland would not work for us (Mark, Matt, Kyle and me), and that our time would be better spent getting ready for Wednesday's departure to London. Kyle then had to catch the tube and a train, bike in hand all the way to Nottingham, and patiently await the arrival of his clothes.

Attempting to make up a few of the miles that we would have done in Scotland, Mark, Kyle and I had good intentions of heading out for a 100 mile ride on Sunday morning in England's Peak District. As I looked out the window to a downpour, I called Mark and all but canceled the ride...suggesting a 'delayed start.' The delay was quite extensive, and in the early evening Mark and Kyle finally decided to go out for an easy spin. I was not on the ride to witness exactly what happened (check http://www.letour2007.com/ news section for details), but my understanding is that travelling at high speeds down one of the fairly steep hills just outside of Nottingham, a cat ran right in front of Kyle's wheel. Kyle had a hard fall over the handlebars and has suffered from many of the injuries that we all fear as a result of coming off the bike- road rash, near concussion (but luckily didn't actually pass out), lower back pain and a broken collar bone.

The timing is not ideal as we are starting the Prologue on Wednesday. That said, Kyle is in very good spirits (could be the drugs talking!) and plans to continue on the journey...hoping to get back on the bike in no time.

CO- old friends, more rides...

2007-06-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

The last few days in Colorado have been superb...

June 20

I did another long ride and I continue to be shocked at the just how good the cycling is just out the front door. It's strange to grow up in a place and not realize just how great it is until returning years later.

One of my best friends from childhood, Amanda, drove up from Denver to meet for dinner. We hadn't seen each other since Portland in February. We enjoyed a lengthy and filling dinner with both of our dads...non-stop laughter about childhood mishaps and adventures and catching up on the past several months. Amanda stayed over in Fort Collins and for old tradition sake we hit the best breakfast restaurant in the city (arguably the best in America!!) the Silver Grill.

Mt. Evans- Top 50 Best Climbs (according to Pro Cycling)!

2007-06-19T16:45:00.000-07:00

Mt. Evans Stats:

-Distance= 27.4 miles
-Elevation= 14,135 (4,308 meters)
-Claim to Fame= Highest Paved Road in North America!
-Net vertical gain= 6,580 (2,006 meters)
-Climbing Feet=6,920
-Difficulty= moderate...ohh, but the altitude!

As Mt. Evans is listed in Pro Cycling's edition of the Top 50 climbs, I figured I couldn't be this close and not give it a go. After a fairly tough day of riding yesterday, I woke up with tired legs, but excess enthusiasm. I set out for Idaho Springs at 5:15 a.m. and arrived at 7:15 to begin the challenge of climbing Mt. Evans.

The most notable feature of the climb is the scenery. It's stunning- especially as one goes above treeline and can begin to see the other 14ers (peaks over 14,000 feet), the entire Front Range, Continental Divide, Downtown Denver, as well as Echo Lake, Lincoln Lake and Summit Lake. The greatest challenge of the climb are the bitter cold winds and the altitude, otherwise, I wouldn't describe it as a difficult climb.

Sweet Home Colorado

2007-06-19T15:43:00.000-07:00

Phew...I'm home! June 14-16

Lap 2 around the world!... sort of. After circling the globe over the past 5 months, I once again found myself crossing the pond, this time from France to Colorado. After an obscene number of hours traveling, involving a 10 hour ferry ride from Corsica to the mainland of France (a Ferry actually trying to be a cruise ship with salsa/meringue music, an all night dance party, etc!), a stressful 2 hour drive from Toulon to Marseilles through rush hour traffic, and flights from Marseilles to Paris, Detroit and Denver, I finally arrived to the comforts of my home in Fort Collins. As my trip home was somewhat...well actually completely unplanned, my dad was on the other side of the country watching the US Open. He was kind enough to fly home 3 days early. For the first time in over 10 years, I was able to spend Father's Day with my dad (and Kathy and the 3 pups).

Father's Day- June 17

My dad's complete selflessness continued as I asked him what he wanted to do on Sunday and he said that he thought I needed some gear for riding so we should go to Boulder where I could find everything that I needed. Feeling a bit guilty, but ecstatic to spend the day with my dad, we drove 45 miles to Boulder to get a spare tubular tire (they apparently don't sell them in Fort Collins) and some other highly necessary cycling purchases.

After our trip to Boulder, dad, Kathy and I headed over to the Grant's... they've been close family friends for over 20 years...and exchanged travel stories about their recent trip to Africa and my camping/cycling around Europe. We enjoyed Patty's delicious meal, confirming that our taste buds are still completely aligned after all of these years (Patty has always been one of my favorite cooks). Lee, AKA Dr. Grant, took a look at my collar bone and said it would probably be best if he get an Xray of it the following day. Bottom line...not healing, no swimming :( (thank goodness for cycling).

Monday, June 18- Original Cycling Plans Modified

New Ride- Rist Canyon, Estes Park (90 miles)

After a somewhat sleepless night on Sunday (I was too excited about my upcoming ride up Mt. Evans), I woke up at 4:50 am, ten minutes before my alarm. As I walked upstairs, I was greeted by Kathy who is a regular 5:00 a.m. gal, the pups, also early risers, and my dad, who clearly is not used to seeing the day at such an hour. My dad was concerned about the prevailing wind and the cold front approaching Colorado. After reviewing the news and the online forecast, his concerns were confirmed. The wind at the bottom of Mt Evans was 30 mph, which means that it was somewhere around 50 mph at the top of the climb. He presented an alternate route, closer to home, which would still allow my legs to scream for several hours. After overcoming my slight disappointment, we set out for Hughs Stadium where I would begin the ride to Estes Park.

Typical of most rides that I do on my own, I missed a critical turn. The mistake earned me an addition 30 miles and a nice climb up Rist Canyon. Not too discouraged, I carried on the original route to Estes Park and met two cyclists who I tagged along with for the remainder of the climb. By the end of the ride, they had just about convinced me that there is no better place in the world than Boulder...hmmm...another potential home. They were a pleasure to ride with and certainly made the 15% switchbacks slightly less painful. I felt my legs at the end of the day...a good sign of having done some work.

Corsica- a cyclists dream!

2007-06-14T23:20:00.000-07:00

June 10- Cycling Evisa/Porto loop
Corsica lives up to its reputation of wild beauty with mountains over 2000 meters, clear water, winding traffic-free roads. June must be one the best times to visit as the temperature seems to cap around 25 degrees (~80), but with a nice breeze.

We found a campsite up in the hills in a small town called Evisa.

The first day's loop covered approximately 85 miles with some serious climbs, and ideal gradual descents which for me means pedalling optional and brakes unnecessary.

The only 'traffic' of the day was families of pigs, goats and cows roaming the streets. Clearly the ones running the show in Corsica, these animals dictated the passage of cars and bikes at their leisure. As I stopped to take a picture of the unabashed animals, one pig came right up to my bike and licked my handlebars (!!). The only somewhat logical explanation I can put forth is his potential interest in the taste of salt from my sweat? I took it as his friendly way of saying hello and then continued on my ride.

June 11- Cycling Evisa to Vhagia

Still craving time on the bici (perhaps the upcoming Tour just 3 weeks away as the source of the continuous motivation), I hit the hills around lunch time. The midday heat was certainly noticeable, making a stop for a coke a complete necessity early into the ride. Other than the scenery, the highlight was getting passed and eventually latching onto a French cyclists. He passed me with a nod and 'bonjour'. Several minutes later I did the same to him. I was pleasantly surprised that he sat on my wheel (some men resist sitting on a female's wheel at all costs) and we took turns in front for about 15 miles...until I was beckoned by the gelato stand in a village that we passed. Not knowing exactly how to state that I was leaving our joined cycling effort, I settled for an 'ovoire, merci' and redirected my attention to ice cream.

June 12- Cycling...Vhagia, Propriano, Bichissano, Pina-Canale, Marato, Coti loop...basically a long (~100 miles) ride

Camping Life to Luxury Hotel!

After nearly 100 miles in the saddle, moving into a hotel was a welcomed change from camping life. Perched up on a hill, Hotel Celine provided excellent views of the Med and the small town of Portigliolo below. Upon arriving, the chef seemed to be the only person who spoke a word of English. Luckily he happened to be sitting in the lobby when I appeared red faced, drenched with sweat and out of breath from the hill I just climbed (wearing a rather large backpack). The chef informed me that he would be preparing a special 3 course meal that evening at 8. I smiled nodded and told him it sounded like just what I needed (especially after extended periods of camping food- i.e. pasta). I went up to my room which had the luxuries of a balcony overlooking the sea and a nice large clean bed...oh to be out of the sleeping bag again! I couldn't resist a quick dip in the pool before taking advantage of the bathtub in my room. I had a chat with Matt, which always seems to put me in a good mood, and then ambled outside to the setting of my upcoming meal.

The Feast...perfect setting, French/English conversation

There were 2 other couples already sitting on the terrace. The chef poured me a glass of wine to accompany the large salad and baguette already on my table. The main course consisted of 'typical Corsican cuisine' which involves a variety of barbecued pork and beef. Although usually scared of unknown red meat, I was starving and it actually was delicious.

The chef brought a pair of binoculars to the table so I could look to the city of Ajaccio some 30 miles away as well as the islands off of Corsica. He eventually joined me as I gulped down a 2 liter bottle of water (literally!). We attempted to communicate despite quite a large language barrier (my French consists of a few food related words!).

"What is your walk?" I think he asks me. 'Walk, walk?' I wonder, what is he saying? I must have shown a confused expression. He points to himself and says "cook" and does hand signals for chopping and flipping food. "Oh, yes, of course. My work," I reply. I had to stop and think about it. Considering the difficulty I have explaining that I'm a 'Project Manager at a Financial Services company' to native English speakers, I suspect that it will be a challenge to describe my career to my new French friend.

"I ride my bicycle," I explain as the first and most simple answer that comes to mind. "Oh, the bicycle," he nods and smiles approvingly, "very good!". If only that were the case...you have to love the French if for no other reason than their passion for cycling! The meal finished with about a pound of cheese, apparently also native to Corsica. Despite a solid effort, and my love for cheese, I was unable to finish the enormous block!

Comforts of a nice room and appreciation for friends & family!!!

Retiring to my room, I spent the next 3 hours on the phone with my sister, best friend Jenni, and my dad. If I have learned anything over the past 5 months of travel, it is just how invaluable friends and family are, and just how lucky I am to have the ones that I do. Jennifer Binder is hands down the most loyal, supportive, giving friend that one could ever hope to find. For the 2nd time in a 3 week period she is searching online to book a flight for me, reviewing maps of France to ensure that the logistics work out appropriately, checking my email account to coordinate dates with others, updating family on my whereabouts, and pouring money into phone cards as Corsica is apparently much more expensive to call than the UK. I truly don't know what I've done to deserve such an incredible friend, but whatever it is, I am grateful.

The end result of all of her help is a trip back to Colorado to visit family, ride the bike at altitude, and perhaps even do some relaxing the last couple of weeks before THE TOUR.

Cycling in Corsica...ideal!

2007-06-12T03:09:00.000-07:00

With the exception of crazy French keybords (please excuse typos and other gramatical mistakes) and very limited Internet, Corsica is an unbelievable Island. Stay tuned for stories & pictures.

Quick Stop French Riviera

2007-06-09T22:55:00.000-07:00

To recover from the day of multi-Ventoux, we drove along the French Riviera stopping first in tranquil St. Clair for lunch and to view the turquoise water and white sand beaches.

I requested a stop in St. Tropez as I had always heard about it as the playground for those with some extra cash on hand- always makes for good people watching. Upholding its reputation, St Tropez was lined with upscale shops and gourmet eateries slightly out of the price range of a backpacker. The port consists of multi-million dollar yachts- each one more impressive than the last. Who are these people, I wondered?

I enjoyed one of the best ice cream cones that I can remember (what is it about ice cream on the Mediterranean?) and we carried on to the next beach town Frejus to set up camp. After a quick look around market Saturday morning, we made our way back to Italy (yes, again- 4th or 5th time to re-enter Italy...I'm losing count!), and caught the ferry from Savona to Corsica.

My Dream Job/Life!

2007-06-09T01:37:00.000-07:00

Craig and Vicky, following their love for climbing, cycling, and France, packed up from England and opened a B&B catered to cyclists in Faucon in Provence (http://www.veloventoux.com/). After visiting their chalet last September I couldn't stop thinking about what an incredible life they had made for themselves. After this week's visit to their new charming, enormous (7 bedrooms), B&B just 7 miles from the base of Ventoux, surrounded by vineyards, lavender, olive trees, I am convinced that they are living the ideal life. Their 18 month old baby Ulula seems to love her new home, and Craig's parents spend the entire summer helping with the B&B and taking care of their grandchild. Craig & Vicky entertain the climbers, cyclists and other guests with gracious hospitality and even join their guests on some of their rides.

Hmmmm....how can I pull off something similar for my next career move?

Pushing the Boundaries of What's Considered Normal

2007-06-09T01:04:00.000-07:00

'Madmen of Ventoux' = those who summit Ventoux by bike from all 3 directions in one day = Mark and me. Although we seem to be pushing the limits of what might be considered normal with some of our training, relatively speaking, we're not over the edge. I can always compare myself to the 'Ventoux Masters'- those who attempt to summit Ventoux as many times as possible in a 24 hour period. I believe that the record is 11 in just over 23 hours; thus making 3 times in just over 7 hours reasonable.

Craig, the owner of Veloventoux, joined us for the first summit. Clearly a regular of Ventoux's challenging gradient, he told stories the entire way to the top with completely controlled breathing. He left us at the summit and returned home as Mark and I descended into Bedoin. Throughout the descent, I tried to focus less on the fact that it would all be over at such high speeds if something went wrong, and more on Andy Collis' advice to look where I wanted to go, not where I didn't want to go. Although simple and straight forward, his advice helped tremendously, and I was slighly less reluctant to take the corners fast.

In Bedoin, I enjoyed a fresh brie baguette, a chocolate chip cookie, and then made my way up for round 2 of Ventoux (the hardest route, I would say). The 3rd time up the mountain from Sault was more of a slog for the first 20 Km; and then the road becomes more demanding at Chez Reynard with 6Km to go. I was pleased to see the moon-like environment for the 3rd and final time. I descended into a fairly intense rainstorm with lakes forming on the road, fog preventing vision more than a few feet, and an early arrival of night time with the dark clouds. The storm did clear as we arrived in Maleucene. We received confused stares from the people sunbathing in cafes, as we were soaked head to toe and clearly there had been no sign of rain in Maleucene.

Another challenging day in the saddle hopefully getting me one step closer to completing the Tour de France just 3 weeks away.

Sunshine, Rejuvenation...Nuthall, England

2007-06-04T01:25:00.000-07:00

June 5

My last few days in England continued to be a treat with pub meals, visits with Andys and Sarahs, and a long ride with Matt. Matt effortlessly floated around the Derbyshire hills, pointing out pubs, old houses, and the general beautiful scenery. I, on the other hand, dragged myself behind him, slightly more phased by the hills and the 108 miles! Luckily for me, he appreciates a coffee and cake stop as much as I do, so I was able to re-energize a couple of times. A Perfect sunny day on the bike with Matt, I couldn't ask for more.

May 31- June 5

After 3 weeks of sleeping in a tent, cooking outdoors, traveling through several countries, it was time to make a quick trip back to England to visit the beau and relax for a few days. Mark was kind enough to drive me to Venice from the Dolomites and I flew into Nottingham where Matt greeted me at the airport (clearly excited to see me!).

To my surprise, the weather was absolutely flawless. Clear skies, sunshine, mid-70s.

We did the Sherwood Club ride on Saturday with a couple of coffee stops...not quite the intense riding I had been doing the previous few weeks (that said, I was still dropped by the fast bunch as the pace picked up for the coffee stop).

Had a BBQ for his family on disposable grills (must be an English thing, I've never seen these contraptions in the US), with excessive food topped off with my new favorite dessert- treacle sponge pudding (I have become slightly addicted, luckily I'm spending lots of time on the bike).

Sunday afternoon we rode our bikes up to the family camper van in the Peak District and went out for a traditional Sunday roast in Matlock.

Zoncolan- Welcome to the Gates of Hell!

2007-05-31T03:26:00.000-07:00

'Welcome to the Gates of Hell' is the sign that appropriately greets those attempting to ride a hill described as 'the hardest hill in pro racing.' Zoncolan averages a 12% grade (should be higher, but the first 2 kms are reasonable), with certain points at 22%. Although reasonable, I was immediately out of gears, even at the base of the mountain. Around kilometer 3 the climb begins to bite. Pushing a heart rate over 190, doing switchbacks within the switchbacks, using every ounce of energy I had to barely turn my legs over, I must have been traveling ~2 mph. Unintentionally reducing my speed to 0 mph, I literally toppled over!! (body giving out before the mind- not smart!).

Several Italian men came to my rescue. One with a small vile of clear liquid. "Take it, you'll feel better." he assured me in broken English and Italian. Although at that point, I would have done just about anything to make myself feel better, I had to draw the line somewhere. I kindly declined his gracious offer for the mysterious substance, but accepted his assistance in helping me stand and holding my bike. After a few minutes, I stopped seeing stars and my heart rate dropped a few beats. With the help of the two Italian men giving me a small push so I could clip into my pedals, I continued my trudge of the wall.

The thousands of fans waiting for the pros to pass were unbelievable with their cheering (an estimated 60k were watching from Zoncolan!)- perhaps because they were not used to seeing a female breathing as though she had serious emphysema, barely turning the pedals, with a Lance Armstrong death stare. To my utter disbelief, I started getting pushes from the crowd. I'd feel a hand on my bum and see someone running up the hill behind me, resulting in the much needed second or 2 of the no chain feeling. My death stare immediately turned to a beaming smile as I bellowed "thank you, thank you, thank you" with excessive enthusiasm, as I rolled just slightly quicker up the hill. The cheers and the 'thank yous' encouraged others to offer the same assistance. It's fair to say that the part of the Zoncolan that I did survive wasn't exactly on my own accord, however at that moment I could not have been more grateful for the assistance that I received.

Questioning how long I could sustain the pain, I saw Race Officials blocking the road ahead. "You must get off your bike" one of the officials called to me. I can't say that I was devastated that I wasn't permitted to finish the last half of the Zoncolan. I clipped out of my pedals in a complete daze, to receive a welcoming embrace and kisses on the cheeks from the Race Official, and a loud applause from the crowd. The cutoff point- a blessing in disguise!

An hour later, I had the pleasure of joining the thousands of fans to cheer on the pros as they seemingly floated up the ridiculous mountain. I was pleased to see that they also welcomed pushes from the crowd stating 'grazie' under their breath. That said, these men are animals riding with reasonable heart rates, at respectables speeds, after 140kms and on their 17th stage in the Giro! There truly is no comparison. My admiration and disbelief for what the pros are able to do increases once again.

Where are my skis??? Covara, Italy

2007-05-29T05:38:00.000-07:00

May 29, 2007

I woke up around 6 am, as usual, needing the bathroom, but struggling to get out of my warm sleeping bag. Today was no exception, and my utter restistance to leave the warmth was even stronger than usual. After almost an hour of waiting, hoping the need would pass, I finally mustered up enough energy to unzip the sleeping bag. I wondered why the tent appeared to be falling, at which point I unzipped the door to find several inches of snow on the tent and the ground!!!

Why do I love this Sport? Cycling Sella Ronda, Italy

2007-05-29T02:54:00.001-07:00

There are a few days when I have to ask myself exactly why I not only love to cycle, but perhaps am even verging on a slight obsession with cycling. The answer to that question becomes even more difficult on days like yesterday, May 28, as I rode around the Dolomites in the heavy fog and downpour.

The Sella Ronda is a popular route that goes over 4 mountain passes, 3 of which are above 2000 meters. It had been raining for the past 2 days in the Dolomites, so I certainly wasn't caught off guard with the weather. That said, it is hard to fully prepare for just how cold a descent feels in the rain. The first slight setback occurred as I reached a fork in the road, assumed I should turn right, and found myself somewhere near the Austrian border. My first indication that I may have potentially taken a wrong turn was the fact that Mark was nowhere to be seen. After riding around the village, stopping for a quick hot chocolate to decide what to do next, I received a call from Mark asking where I was. I asked the kind man sitting next to me if I was still in Italy (not a completely unreasonable question considering that every sign was in German!), and he confirmed that I was. My small mistake just earned me an additional climb up to Passo Sella where Mark was waiting for me, shaking his head wondering how it is possible that I managed to get lost once again.

After throwing back a hot ham & cheese sandwich and a chocolate croissant (nothing better than hot food on a cold cycling day), Mark and I looked at the deep set fog, the thermometer stating 3 degrees, and began the chilly descent into the next village. All I could think about was how much I looked forward to climbing! Odd when something ranks higher on the misery scale than climbing, but frozen fingers and toes certainly does! Surviving the cold descent, I enjoyed every moment of the next climb, especially when I heard a "Go Colorado" and even "Go Fort Collins" from American cyclists standing at the top of the pass. Mark had mentioned where I was from and they happened to be from Summit County, CO. We chatted at the top and they enthusiastically exclaimed that they were only 20 minutes away from their sauna below. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I'm a solid hour and 1/2 away from my tent!! Just the small chat with the fellow Coloradoans and the shared suffering and laughter was enough motivation to push forward to the next descent. Again, boosted by fellow riders climbing that called out "yeah, girl" (had to be Americans), put a smile on my face and made me forget about my fingers and toes for awhile.

Bottom line, there is something amazing about hard earned rewards...such as hot chocolate or a big meal, the feeling of exhaustion combined with accomplishment, and the feeling of belonging to this slightly odd group of people with a shared passion and the strange ability to tolerate some form of suffering for the days of sunshine, good scenery, strong legs, etc.

All in all, a good day on the bike!

Giro d'Italia, May 27, 2007

Cortina, Italy

Watched the pros among a huge crowd of cycling fans in Cortina. Despite the fact that all shops were closed (Sunday and the off season), Cortina was buzzing with excitement.

Dolomiti Stars Gran Fondo

2007-05-27T03:21:00.000-07:00

Where: Arabba, Italy

What: 85 miles, 3650 meters climbing, 4 mountain passes

Morning hiccup...

The start to the day was a bit less than smooth as we attempted to leave our campsite around 7:15 am for the 8:00 am start 20 minutes away in Arabba. We slowly approached a seemingly closed gate at our campsite and were surprised to discover that we were literally locked into the campsite until 8:00 am- Uh-0h! I wandered around the campsite looking for antoher potential exit and Mark luckily found an emergency number for reception. After mildly scolding him and reminding him that the gates typically don't open until 8, the woman was kind enought to drive over to the campsite and release us at 7:30.

Back of the Pack...

We made it just in time for the buzzer to go off, pedaling with the pack at 8 am sharp. I started somwhere near the back and wasn't gaining position as the first 20 miles were a descent (not my specialty!). My limited Italian prevented me from knowing which way to go upon reaching the decision point for the Medio Fondo (85 km) or the Gran Fondo (130 km). I asked a woman stopped on the road and she directed me left. I carried on left and asked another man and he said I should have gone right. Aggghhh..I finally turned around, confirmed 1 more time, at which point I had mild confidence that I was on the right road. The next startling fact was that I was entirely alone! I glanced behind me to see literally no cyclists anywhere. Up ahead in the far distance, I could make out a yellow jersey. Hands in the drops, head down, I put in some serious effort to catch the cyclist ahead. The symbolism...me driving hard to catcht the man in the yellow jersey. The irony...it was the beginning of a long ride and I'm striving only to remove myself from being last and place myself in the coveted position of 2nd to last! To my relief and disappointment, I gained on the yellow jersey. What is this guy in 2nd to last place doing wearing a yellow jersey? I perhaps inappropriately judged. As I got closer and saw the Cat 5 tatoos displayed across his calves (i.e. unwanted marks from the chain- typical of rookie cyclists. I shouldn't judge, as I get them about 1/2 the time I ride), I made the assumption (this time accurate) that Mr. Yellow jersey would not be able to carry me to the pack. I passed him with a Ciao and continued on my way. I eventually caught a man who claimed to be Australian, despite his thick Italian accent and Italian looking features (perhaps something was lost in the translation?!). Mr. Australia fortunately was a decent cyclists and we worked fairly well together taking turns in front attempting to make our way to the first climb. Two important facts missing for me...was I on the right route and was I last. My Australian buddy confirmed that, yes, we were in fact in for the long hall, and yes, we happened to be dead last (other than our yellow jerseyed friend a few miles behind).

Throughout the day I was able to slowly chip away and position myself in a slightly more respectable place in the field.

Passo Giau 14% (9.8% average, 11 km) renewed enthusiasm

Giau is the 3rd of 4 climbs of the day. A clear indication of a serious climb, the mountain pass was filled with flags, campervans, paint on the road and cheering fans screeming "Fuerza! Fuerza!" and "Brava!". Okay, so perhaps the reason the fans were lined up along the Giau wasn't on behalf of the Dolomiti Stars Gran Fondo, but rather for the Giro d'Italia which would be riding the exact climb the following day (May 28). Regardless, I relished the cheering and excitement in the atmosphere and decided it wouldn't hurt to pretend that they were there for me attempting to survive the long, steep climb.

I felt good on that particular climb and was attmepting to pass as many people as possible. Approaching 2 guys on decked out De Rosas, I asked them how many switchbacks remaining as we were on number 19 and appeared to have a long way to go. "Where are you from?" they responded, ignoring my question. "The US" I stated with labored breathing. "Fantastic. Are you Lance Armstrong's sister?" they joked. Flattered and ecstatic, I turned to them at said "that's quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!" With renewed motivation, I continued up the next 10 switchbacks to the top of Paso di Giau at 2232 meters.

The 4th and final climb was relatively painless and the day ended with another pasta party and beer to satiate the starving cyclists after their >6 hour day in the hills (at least my 6+ hours, the winner was well under 5 hours!).

Cycling Slovenia

2007-05-24T09:44:00.000-07:00

I continue to be impressed with this country. I'm actually surprised that I haven't heard of Slovenia as one of the world's top cycling destinations.

Mark and I completed a 60 mile loop that featured the clear Soca river, 2 mountain passes, a quick exit out of Slovenia and into Italy, an ideal lunch stop in a ski resort town and endless miles of smooth, shaded roads.

25 May- From Slovenia back to Italy
Sad to leave beautiful Slovenia, but excited to check out the Dolomites, Mark and I traveled back to Italy, this time to the Dolomites. We stopped in a quaint village (temperature 30 degrees!) for a picnic lunch and then carried on to Arabba to confirm our registration for the Dolomiti Stars Cycling Event and to find a new home-campsite for the upcoming few days.

Cessenatico, Italy to Slovenia!!

2007-05-23T01:06:00.000-07:00

Cessenatico, Italy...next stop??? (May 21)
Sleeping in until 7:45, the latest I've slept in ages felt great. It's amazing how easy it is to adjust to sleeping in tents- something about the warm and confined space. Starving after yesterday's ride, I was only temporarily held over with the trough of muesli & baguette with peanut butter. Mark and I plotted out our next destination deliberating between Tuscany and Slovenia, and eventually decided on the latter. Neither of us had been and Mark read about a few scenic/active places. I also had sound advice from my well traveled friend, Michael, who suggested that Slovenia might be more adventurous, where Tuscany is a place I'll most likely visit in years to come for a more low-key family-type vacation. He also kindly requested that I confirm for him the rumor that Slovenian women are truly the most beautiful in the world. Hmmm...to be determined...

Slovenia...quite possibly the most underrated country in Europe

Passing the border from Italy to Slovenia was slightly unnerving for no logical reason other than the fact that we were entering the unknown. Unclear if we needed visas, if it was part of the EU, if there was some sort of political unrest that we were unaware of, we pulled up to the border patrol. ˝Lights on!˝ the officer grumbled in an intimidating loud voice with a heavy accent (despite the fact that it was completely light outside). ˝Documents!˝ is the 3rd word that came out of his mouth. I sensed a slight surprise in his expression as he takes the English and American passports, noticing the steering wheel on the right hand side of the car. Perhaps we aren't the typical people to cross the border? He flips through the passports and hands them back with a nod. We're in! The unsettled feeling also came from the lack of...well, pretty much the lack of everything i.e. people, cars, gas stations, or any general activity. Is there a reason that we aren't aware of that there is nobody in Slovenia, we wondered? We continued through a winding valley that can only be described as spectacular- lush forests, extreme mountain cliffs. We finally passed a quaint village and I was relieved that there actually were people in Slovenia. We continued to the town Bovic to find a pleasant campsite and a town filled with adventure opportunities.

Hiking & Kayaking

Mark and I started the day climbing to the top of Boka- the second highest (most amount of water) water fall in Slovenia. It was an intense, steep climb under the blazing sun. We briefly stopped at the top where the clear water rushes through the rocks to refill our water bottles, slam down sandwiches and Slovenian bread, and quickly descend to the river as we had a 3:00 river kayaking trip booked.

River Kayaking- Completely out of my comfort zone!

If one should strive to do somthing that scares her everyday, then I can consider May 22, 2007 a success!!

I don't think I oversold my competence when I claimed that I had been kayaking several times and I at least knew what an Eskimo Roll was (although I had never attempted one). The second we were sitting next to the river tightening our skirts to the kayak and watching the rapids roll past, I knew I was in for a demanding couple of hours. ˝Rocks are your friends, currents are your enemy. Otherwise, just paddle˝ the casual guide told Mark and me in our brief lesson on surviving the river. Holy crap, I thought, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die. Sadly, we were only kayaking level 3 rapids and had not even ventured to the difficult part of the river (where the World Cup Kayaking Championships were recently held). Miraculously, unlike Mark, I managed to stay in my kayak the entire time. In Mark's defense, when posed the option of the chicken way or the hard way down a particular current, I shamelessly opted for the chicken way and Mark took on the challenge. I'm fairly certain that it's not advisable to catch air while kayaking. After one of the bigger set of rapids, I was complimented on my survival after 'flying'- I'll take it as a compliment!

Regardless of my less than natural ability, it was a phenomenal experience- the sheer beauty of the surrounding mountains, an education on the history of Slovenia, the cleanliness of the water (we literally drank right from the river as we kayaked), and the fact that I was scared shi%&less for a couple of hours made it an incredible day.

Canyoning Slovenia May 23

Another first for me...after reviewing all of the activities that the Bovic area had to offer- Mark and I decided canyoning was something we shouldn't miss. I've been tempted to during previous travels, but have never actually gone. We met up with our guides Christian and Pepe and began the steep 25 minute walk up to the canyon. Wearing helmets, wetsuits and booties, we were set for our first slide. Christian thought that sliding sitting upright and facing forwards was for wimps, so every slide he had a new position for us- hands in front on stomach, backwards head first, etc.

The canyon is ideal in that the jumps and slides gradually become steeper, longer, higher, culminating in an ridiculously high slide (not sure on exact measurement, but trust me, it was up there!). Pepe went first and several seconds later we heard the thunderous crash into the water. Again questioning what I had gotten myself into, I patiently waited my turn. ˝Do you have any kids?˝Christian asked. ˝No,˝ I replied, confused by the relevance of his question. ˝Then you don't have anything to worry about˝ he stated as though he were saying something reassuring. ˝I may want them someday˝ I protested, to which he ignored and told me to ˝stop meditating and to get on with it.˝ I mustered up sufficient courage to roll my bum far enough to the edge that gravity could take charge. I felt my stomach drop and before I knew it, I was in the final pool laughing with Pepe and Mark.

I have survived yet another day!

My Sister is Preggers!!!

2007-05-22T09:19:00.000-07:00

Side Note- Warning this post is completely unrelated to travel or even cycling!

My big sister is pregnant...very, very, very pregnant. At the end of June LBK (Little Baby Keating) will emerge into the world to the loving San Francisco couple- Carrie and Sam, (and probably 3-4 sets of Grandparents awaiting the arrival of their first grandchild). In an exercise of discipline and patience, a few of us have opted not to know the sex of the baby (not that those who do know aren't disciplined or patient!!). Carrie is happy, healthy and looks absolutely beautiful- I believe they call it glowing!! We all anxiously await the arrival of the newest member of the family.

Phew!! Pressure is off of 'the Traveler' for at least a couple of years :)!

Au Revoir France, Ciao Italy

2007-05-20T10:19:00.000-07:00

Similar to my journey across France, I slept my way across Italy (literally, not figuratively :) !!), only waking up for toll booths and a couple of rest stops. We pulled into Marco Pantani's hometown Cessinatico to find a campsite, register for the upcoming Grand Fondo, and prepare a meal entirely too late in the evening considering the day we had ahead of us.

Marco Pantani Grand Fondo

There is no shortage of cycling enthusiasts in Italy. There were 11,000 participants in the ride. In short, it was a beautiful day with endless sunshine, endless hills (3,500 meters of climbing) and lots of miles (130 to be exact).

If nothing else, Italy certainly does food well. The rest stops were unbelievable featuring pizza, paninis, fruit, dessert, etc. etc. There were almost too many food stops to actually hit them all. The ride ended with a huge pasta party for all of the riders. They even handed out flowers to all of the female riders. The Italians certainly know how to treat their ladies!

Bonjour France

2007-05-19T11:19:00.000-07:00

800 miles of travel in a day (nope, not by bike) and Mark and I arrived in Le Bourg d'Oisans, France. We left Nottingham at 3 am to catch the 7 am ferry in Dover, and then traveled south East across the entire country. I'd like to add commentary on the beautiful French countryside, but in actuality, I was in a completely unconscious, passed out cold, sound asleep state, only waking seconds at a time due to head flopping. Although I don't believe in jet lag, I will say that I was experiencing some sort of less than healthy state due to the time change from Thailand, combined with nearly 500 miles on the bike in 4 days, and general lack of sleep. I slowly began to rise from the dead in the late afternoon and became a slightly more useful passenger/navigator than had been the previous 12 hours. Reaching the beautiful Alps around 6 pm - just in time for an enormous pre-ride meal, some wine and great conversation with a couple from Colorado who were sat immediately next to us.

Day 1 on the new bike and I'd say it's quite a lucky bike! 1st day (with me as the owner) it traveled up 2 HC climbs (i.e. Alpe D'huez & Col de la Croix de Fer) on a perfect 75 degree, cloudless day. As expected of one of the world's most famous climbs, Alpe D'huez was swarming with cyclists. Even the campsite was filled with lycra wearing, endorphin junkies, anticipating the hour plus climb up the famous mountain.

Mark and I pedalled up the Alpe, enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the top in the bright sunshine and then finished off the day with the Col de Grandon and Col de la Croix de Fer. 11 KM from home I realized that I was absolutely starving beyond any comfortable level. As luck would have it, we passed a small market and ravenously picked up everything we thought our jersey pockets could possibly hold. I filled mine with chocolate bars, cookies and cashews and Mark managed to grab similar food, in addition to a baguette. Only in France is it acceptable to cycle in the Alps with a baguette hanging out of your jersey at 7 pm after 6 hours in the saddle.

Nottingham- bike purchase (finally!)

2007-05-14T16:11:00.000-07:00

Nottingham, England

What a pleasant treat to spend a couple of days in one's hometown relaxing. The 2 days in Nottingham post-Ireland, pre-France, I did just that (proper relaxation due to a cold that I acquired riding in Ireland). Mark was kind enough to postpone our trip to France so I could get one more day of rest before attempting Alpe D'huez.

I finally broke down and purchased a bike- a used Principia that will hopefully get me through the next few months. Matt patiently advised me, drove me to Scott's shop and helped me pick out a bike that will serve me well for the next several months of intense cycling.

England Relaxation to Ireland Cycling Madness

2007-05-12T12:05:00.000-07:00

Tour of Ireland

In brief
After a whirlwind 48 hours in England, Mark and I left East Midlands Airport for Belfast, Northern Ireland for the 4 stage, 470 mile cycling tour around the beautiful Emerald Island with ~120 other cycling enthusiasts.

Belfast to Lisburn
After arriving in Belfast and heading to Lisburn, Mark and I found ourselves in a Civic Reception to kick off the Tour of Ireland. It had all of the essentials that one would expect from such an event: an ex-Olympic athlete (Mary Peters- gold medalist in the '72 Olympics as a pentathlete), unhealthy appetizers and unlimited wine, long speeches with routine applause, and of course, the Mayor. I was fortunate enough to meet the Mayor (I must admit that I only understood about 30% of what he said due to his heavy accent). I did, however, understand his speech when he discussed the distances that some of the cyclists had traveled for the ride- "there's even a young American lady who claims to be from Nottingham in the crowd!" he announces. 2 years in England, and I still can't pull it off.

Day 1- Leg Test
90 miles- Lisburn to Cavan

Day 1 began at a ridiculously aggressive pace with all cyclists attempting to prove that they were competent and unfazed by the upcoming 400+ miles. Additionally, we had police escorts, road closures and screaming school children which made steady riding more difficult. I joined in the testosterone-driven madness and certainly put the quads to a test on day one. "Look at those rosy cheeks," one of the cyclist exclaimed at the lunch break, "you must have some Irish in you!" (I heard that comment several times over the 4 day period, and like the majority of Americans, of course I claim to have some Irish in me. Everyone loves the Irish, and how else could I engage in proper St. Patrick Day celebrations if I weren't partially Irish?)

As my rosy cheeks slowly went back to a more natural color over lunch, I thought through the upcoming miles and realized that I better settle into a group that traveled at a slightly more conservative pace if I wanted to survive another 3 1/2 days.

Day 2- Day O' Rain

130 miles- Cavan to Galway
Ireland would not be Ireland if there wasn't some rain involved. The day started a bit on the gray side, and it wasn't long before the serious rain arrived. Although 7 1/2 hours gutting out wetness and wind may seem like an unpleasant way to spend the day, there were certainly many upsides. The highlights include my new friend Barney (a classic late 50/early 60 year old cyclist with legs that could take out half of the 20-something racers) telling me dirty jokes and singing the 'Irish Cycling Song'. Although I can't remember the exact lyrics, they related to the lack of rain, wind and hills in Ireland appropriately sung during the torrential downpour and wind storm. The Irish understated commentary continued as I rode along a particularly dreary section with water rolling off of my face, vision 90% impaired due to mud and water on the sunglasses, and clothes so wet I could fill a sink by ringing them out, when a fellow cyclist exclaims, "well Amy, I don't want to admit it, but it's threatening to rain out here today".

Day 3- Feeling It

140 miles - Galway to Kilkenny
Regardless of how you slice it, 140 miles is a looooonnnnnngggg day in the saddle (even riding in an organized pelaton that moves fairly quickly). Not much to report on day 3 other than OUCH- lesson learned on the importance of high quality shorts and chamois cream...will I have to stand the entire 115 miles on day 4, I wondered?

Day 4- Climbs

115 miles - Killkenny to Dublin
My favorite day! Although the previous days' miles were noticeable on just about all parts of the body, the day was ideal. Many miles of pelaton riding with endless chatter as we were all starting to get to know each other after 4 days together. We were boosted by the sunny weather and the fact that it was the last day. A small group of us worked together to survive the headwind of the Wicklow Gap and finished the day with a short climb into Dublin.

Summary

4 days in the saddle averaging well over 100 miles a day takes a toll on the body. Tour de France...21 days on the bike...yikes.

Nottingham, England (May 8- 10)
After another comfortable, food & movie focused flight on Thai Airways, I was greeted at the airport by Matt (who fortunately I did recognize despite his shaved head!) and we made our way to Nottingham. The 2 days were packed, but somehow relaxing. We visited his parents and 3 dogs, and took a look at the family allotment where Matt's dad spends a considerable amount of time growing just about every fruit and vegetable imaginable.

I even made it to Capital One to ensure that I will still have a job in August- I'm happy to report that it looks promising! Timing worked out such that I was able to join a few friends and colleagues for celebratory drinks.

Just prior to flying out of East Midlands, Mark and I made a quick visit to the bike shop to see if I could make a last minute purchase. Although it has served me well for 6 years, the Cannondale is starting to corrode and seems to have a limited future. No dice on a new bike, so my journey to Ireland would have to be on the old clunker.

Surfing (attempted)- Phuket, Kata Beach

2007-05-06T19:09:00.000-07:00

Last Day in Thailand

The breakfast buffet at Central Kata hotel will never cease to impress me. In fact, I haven't been able to sleep past 6:15 a.m. the entire time I've been in Phuket- basically I'm eager to jump into the pancakes, french toast (which I miss terribly while living in England), and enjoy the special treat of fresh mango, papaya and pineapple. Following my enormous breakfast, I took off for a run along both Kata and Karon beaches. A bit warm for running, I ended up walking and jumping in the water every few minutes.

Modest Attempt at Surfing

I got it in my head that surfing was something that I absolutely had to do at some point during my travels. I have visited some of the greatest surfing areas over the past few months (e.g. North Shore, Hawaii; Mt Monganui, New Zealand; Port Macquarie, Australia) but the shoulder hasn't quite been ready. On my last day in Thailand, I decided to give it a go. I booked a private lesson with Chalee (turns out he's some sort of surfing legend on Kata beach- won the Phuket long board championships). We had 20 minutes of instruction on the beach and then hit the water.

I was far from a natural and found myself upside down, pummeled, etc. on multiple occasions. After one particular wave beating, Chalee recommended that I rest on the beach for about 20 minutes to relax and watch the other surfers. He then told me to follow him. Before I thought through and absorbed any potential safety concerns, I found myself sitting sideways on Chalee's motorbike with the surfboard in the attached basket/wire crate. Holding on for dear life, I asked him where we were going. 'Surfing,' he replied. 'Oh right,' I said, a bit confused about what we had been doing previously. We traveled a few miles and just about every local waved to Chalee and called out his name as we flew by. We arrived at the other side of the beach where he informed me that the waves were much better. It was his kind way of saying that the waves were much smaller and I actually had a chance of survival!

He patiently held my board, yelled out to me when I need to start paddling, paddle faster, and attempt to jump up on the board. I had one somewhat successful ride (ride probably being a bit of an overstatement). I did stand up. I did have a glimpse of what it must feel like to surf, and it's a pretty sweet feeling. I will certainly give it another try at some point, but my utmost respect for every person who actually knows how to surf. I will say that it is not easy.