Looking Outside that Pre-Defined Box

Photo credit: Team Radioshack

I'm getting tired of writing about biking. Maybe I've just hit that point of saturation with the biking written word. It's not like I'm not thinking about biking. I'm thinking about it all the time. I found the biking enthusiasts heaven in my cottage neighbour's back yard a couple of weekends ago.

Bicycle Purgatory? A "collector's" stash

I made 8 trips to this pile. And NO, there was no Italian. There was this really comfortable big-ass saddle though that made me think of this scene (unfortunately dubbed over but if you listen closely you'll catch it) from The Road to Wellville.

I am as obsessed with the Tour de France as I ever was. I'm reading a lot of other people's writing about the race. I'm learning how it works. Why guys like Fabian Cancellara are hanging out at the back, or at the front and dropping off before the finish or attacking and then fading away as he did in stage one where, I'm sure, he could have won. Easily. If that had been his job. I didn't know superstar cyclists sometimes played bodyguard for other racers. But it shows me why I made bad pool picks this year. I have at least 5 guys who have done nothing for my points situation because it isn't their job to win or even place top 20. They are there to serve and protect.

Photo credit: Team Radioshack

I'm obsessed with the images. Radioshack's artsy fartsy take on product placement, while obvious, is somehow also beautiful in the mechanics of it all. There is nothing more beautiful in its geometry than the bicycle.

Photo Credit: Team Radioshack

I'm obsessed with muscles and scars and bandages and 5 o'clock shadow and white sunglasses and how rain soaked kits "enhance" to the point of distraction. The male body can be beautiful too.

Klodi was definitely working for me before he abandoned (Photo Credit: Team Radioshack)

But then again, Cav has provided his own moments of excitement. (Photo credit: Tour de France)

I'm just not obsessing over my own cycling. Maybe because since I've been back from California nothing has even come close to the magic of that.

Floating down the river channel in Penticton, BC... 

Penticton was gorgeous. I made a couple videos. They say it all.

I'd thought if I survived Penticton, I'd give the Falcon Lake 8 hour a try, solo. Survived that too. Barely. I succumbed to heat stroke and dehydration over time, but the agony didn't really hit until the next day. But I'm a much better and more confident mountain biker now than I was when I went into that race. And that really was the objective wasn't it? And I can't say enough about the FGBC and RRR boys and girls and their race planning commitment. They truly go above and beyond.

But I am thinking about words even if not necessarily biking words. I'm thinking about this blog. I've actually been in a rather serious love-hate relationship with this blog for the last 7 months. I haven't much liked most of what I've written here for quite some time.

Except maybe the California stuff. There were moments of genuineness in there.

And all my blog stats tell me is that there are an awful lot of people looking at volleyball ass on google images because that has been the primary blog traffic I've had in the last few months. That blog entry alone has had over 1000 hits since I posted it in January. False hits, of course, because I'm certain only about 2% of them were from people who actually read my intelligent feminist ramblings. My fault for using the words butt cleavage and beer in the same blog title. Damn my facetiousness. But I'll be honest. That stat kinda pisses me off.

I just want to write other things, now. I'll think about biking. I just don't want it to be the central focus of what I write about. I never did.

So I have plan.

I have this book I wrote. I wrote it nearly 6 years ago now. It is a good book and it's too good to sit dangling from a USB drive on my key chain -- where it presently resides. How do I know it is good? Well people with a little cred have told me so. I think the worst thing anyone has said about that book was that it was very good but it wouldn't have been something she picked up to buy. And I was OK with that because I didn't write it for 37 year olds, I wrote it for 15 year olds. I wrote the book that I would have wanted to read at 15.

Well, I would have wanted to read it at 12. But that's a whole other story.

It should have got published but shit happens and agents and publishers can only imagine promoting something that has a clear and obvious audience, not one that straddles that zone between young adult and adult. Nobody wants to take a risk on anything that falls outside some pre-defined box.

And I don't get that, because that it seems everything about me falls outside some pre-defined box.

I guess that one publisher that still has it and was so excited about it 4 years ago and has never rejected it got distracted by, oh I don't know... maybe it fell from the slush pile on somebody's desk and is languishing in dust bunnies behind a filing cabinet. I got tired of emailing to ask if they had any news.

And the world has evolved in 6 years and there is this little thing called e-publishing. You load it up and sell it dirt cheap -- a couple bucks a download -- and work the laws of supply and demand and hopefully I can sell enough copies to make back what I am about to spend to have a very talented graphic artist I know and love do her thing and design me a cover image.

But first, before all that, I gotta read it again. And that could be the hardest part of all as, same with everything in life, I am my own worst critic.

And I wrote that book in another lifetime.  And I should really be writing another one and not blogging about my bike races.

Oh, and go online and buy my book when I download it. Or if it isn't your thing, find a kid 15-25 (give or take) who might want to read it. It's good. If you don't think its worth the couple bucks I charge you, I'll hand over my royalties for your copy.

The Human Canvas... Phase I

Those of you with me on Facebook have seen this. Many of you have now seen this in person. But as you may recall, on the list of things to do the year I turned 40 was a little body ink. So the art was created by Andy at Metamorphosis on McDermot (although, I think that link must be outdated) and the outlining is done.

Andy was a good sport and has the steadiest hand ever. I was twitching so bad by the end I feared I would have made him go out of the lines, if I didn't kick him in the head first. Wow.. this was far more painful than the one on my back.

But it is in that phase now where I have to constantly resist the urge to scratch the shit out of my leg.

At the end of July I go back for the colour. I will leave you in suspense until then. I'm kinda liking it though.

River Road TT and Circuit Race: And on Taking Back Ignorant Shit I Never Should Have Said

Race day on the the most beautiful road in the Province. 

I wish I could find where I said it. I am pretty sure I have said it in this blog but I couldn't find it in the quick look I did. I know I've said it outloud many times:

If I am ever to survive a crit, I'll need to do 50km before I even start the race.

There is something rather humbling about doing two races in one day. Beyond the teenage Provincial kids, I was only one of a handful of us old folk who attempted such a feat. And I haven't figured out how to handle the pacing and the effort yet to survive two races in one day and feel strong in both.


It wasn't a ramp start this time, but here I was praying I wouldn't fall over when he let go. (Stefan Isfeld, photo)


The time trial took place along what I suspect is the most beautiful road in all of Southern Manitoba. I am, still, despite my best efforts to get my power up, much more of an endurance person than a short distance person. I can hold a strong threshold pace for a very long time, but a 16km TT  is pretty damn short. So, wisely or not, I did about a 17 km warm up to help me along.

Focus? or Fear? (Stefan Isfeld, photo)

And I had a great TT. My right leg/calf/soleus, which has been cramping on me during big efforts, held me back a bit but I still managed to hold an average speed higher than I ever have before. I have to thank Phil, who along with his lovely wife is quickly worming his way onto my favorite-persons-in-the-universe list as well as into my heart,  for lending me a rear aero wheel.  But I am also pretty sure, leg pain aside, that I could have held that pace for 40 km and not just 16.

The wheel looks pretty sexy on Kermit. 

So I had done 33 km by the end of that race. Then because I had 4 hours to kill before the circuit race, I went for a nice easy spin up River Road from Larter's Golf Club all the way up to the St. Andrew's Locks. I did this mostly to test out the theory that my leg issue is related to the new shoes. So I wore my old shoes and sure enough, no pain. But I wanted to see the sites.

I then proceeded to do unhealthy things.

Like have lunch with Don Cherry and the ghosts of NHL past. 

A little visit with Teemu Selanne 

I remember going to restaurants like this and HAVING to play the Jukebox. Avril Lavigne's "Complicated" right beside, "I fought the Law and the Law Won." Classic. 

The old red Booths. 

The best pre-second race meal ever that was guaranteed to be just as bad for me coming up as it was going down. 

And of course, locals know where I was. What I didn't realize is that there are two of them right around the corner from each other. The first thing I thought when I went into this one is, "Where's the water slide?" Then when I got back on the road to head to the next race site, I saw the second one on highway 44 with the slide right behind it.  All this time and thought there was only one Skinner's.

And what can I say about the circuit race? It was 4 km long and I did a lap of it to warm up which put me at 54 km of riding for the day even prior to starting the circuit race. And of course you have to know I died during the race. And I made a gazillion mistakes. Followed a break I shouldn't have. Killed myself on the chase. I'm cornering better, thanks to Rick and Alter Ego's crit workshop. I nearly allowed myself to get squeezed off the road and instead of getting aggressive back, I backed off and ended up at the back of the group, even though I had pulled where I did purely to put myself near the front for the run in to the finish. I simply don't have it in me to get mean. Then at the run in to the finish, I was at the back at the final corner and lost the group. I was cooked. Then, from a distance, I mistook some pylons at an early road at the finish line and backed off too early. I still managed to not come in last. And Jesse from AE won the race. Young Oliver at the ripe old age of 12 was second. Oliver flattened the whole Cat 5 field in the TT in the morning and was impressive the whole circuit race, at or near the front the whole three laps.

So it was a great race day. A beautiful day. I'm learning a lot. On to the next one, whatever that may be.

I love how iPhone disembodies moving riders. This was the Cat 4 race. All the kids I raced with in Portage (except for the girls and young Ollie), moved up to Cat 4 which makes me even happier with how well I hung on in Portage.

And this is Phil in the Cat 4 Circuit race. Gotta love Phil. He lends me a wheel and I get my one second of fame over him in the TT. I'll be milking that one all summer. Another terrific iPhone photo.

And there's Phil cornering like a pro, in a photo Carolyn must have snapped. This was the last and most difficult corner of the race before the run to the finish.  And I believe that's Aaron, and Willem and national level triathlete Stevie Moore with him.

Falcon "Down to the Wire" Video

I have this new toy and the reason why I got to use it today at the Falcon race was because I am a wuss. I did one trial lap of the Falcon course and immediately decided I was bailing. Injury prevention you know. I could certainly admire the course and see its challenges and merits but it shows nothing if you have to walk half of it.

Sigh.... I perhaps will never learn to mountain bike well, but it also probably won't stop me from continuing to try. I did however learn from watching my own video that it might help to get out of my saddle more often.

I've never seen so many flat tires in one race in my life, by the way. Shredded tires too.

So because my still camera battery was dead when I pulled it out of my bag, I pulled out the Flip Video camera, a similar toy as my buddy Don used in California.  This is a compilation of the best frames, meaning the ones that were not long boring shots of grass with no riders on it, or, as with one frame, a nice long look at Adam's legs as I videoed the ground instead of the race by mistake.

No, really, that was an accident.

I would have liked better music but I couldn't figure out how to plagiarize iTunes as it wouldn't let me steal -- I mean upload -- iTunes songs for the video. I briefly considered resorting to an old 80s trick similar to "taping songs off the radio" using my voice memo component of my iPhone and just taping from my computer. This time instead of my mother screwing it up by poking her head in the door and calling me for supper it would be some act of sibling rivalry or someone screaming: MOMMMMMM!! (which has also happened about 4 times while typing this short entry).

So you get stock Flip Video guitar lick instead, repeated over and over and.......

But I'm sure you care about none of that, so hopefully you've just skimmed all that rambling to get to the meat of the issue. Here's the video:

My Love Affair with Steel

I'm not sure what it is: Nostalgia, looks, or riding a bike that just feels right but every time I hop on a steel bike it has the same comfort as an old worn in pair of jeans. I had a steel bike as a teenager, that could be part of it.  I wish I could find a picture of it. And every time I get on the single speed Masi I commute with, it feels like home. So what you see above is my new Cyclocross bike.

(Stefan Isfeld: photo)

As you know, I raced cyclocross on a borrowed bike last fall. It was a lovely bike too which was slightly too big for me and given how hard and fast that I fell for the addiction of cross racing, I knew I had to get my own.

But here's the problem with finding me bikes. I'm short even by girl-standards. And it proves to be very difficult to find extra small bikes, new or used, and I have this particular buyer loyalty that I adhere too which limited me to Specialized or Trek and neither manufacturer had a bike in my size that could be special ordered at the time that I had the money to lay down for one and I was asked to be patient.

The Masi that I love too

So I went to California because I live in the present and am all about instant gratification and quickly found myself in a spot where putting out $3000 for a bike, if and when they came into stock, was looking to be out of the question. And finding used bikes in my size is even more difficult than buying new. When short girls buy bikes, they don't tend to upgrade very often.

And then a miracle happened, without even looking, I got an email one day telling me about a bike and that it would fit me, and thus brought into my life the Steel Lemond Poprad. And I'm truly in love.

Oh and my favorite bike boy forgives me for cheating on him, yet again, which is the best part. Besides, one of my kids is sure to fit my Mountainbike next summer and Mom will need an upgrade.

Thoughtfully and specially adorned with pink donuts by Dan P. I may not much care for pink but it was the thought that counts.

A Road Race, A Time Trial, and a Crit...

Shoulders at my ears and breathing through clenched teeth. Glad I at least look happy (Carolyn Campeau Photo). 

I was a virgin all over again for all three. I wrote about the road race yesterday and despite the flat tire, when the final results were posted today, I found I did even better than I thought. Second Cat 5 female. Not bad for a virgin.

(Carolyn Campeau: photo)

The time trial went great. I was a little nervous about the ramp start. You can see it in my shoulders in the start picture. If you want to know how comfortable I am with a situation, that's always a sign, look at the proximity of my shoulders to my ears and that says a lot. Captain Rick was giving me hell about this in the store today. He's right.

And my damn locked elbows. It is no wonder I have nerve damage in my left hand and tennis elbow in my right arm. After this weekend I can now barely lift up a bag of groceries.

I went into the TT with more tired legs that I'd hoped after my unplanned solo effort the day before. It was an out and back TT and they started us in reverse order of how we finished the day before which means I was third out of the gate, with the wind behind on the way out, against on the way back. This suited me just fine. I tend to be a wimp with the wind and stronger into it. I just wanted to catch the girl in front of me. And I did, around 12 km in. My TT was raw me. No extra aero gear. It was just my legs and Kermit the bike with aerobars attached.

It was kinda short though -- 16.3km. I was just getting warmed up and it was over. I knew my legs were tired because I never did get my heart rate up to where I know I can sustain it. My legs wouldn't let me. I made myself get up and sprint over the finish line and then couldn't move my right lower leg due to a cramping soleus muscle for about 5 minutes after.

My kids were there. They hung out in the car for the 30 minutes I was on the road and two short-burst warm ups. They were patient. It helped that I told them that the long grass around the community centre where the TT started would likely have woodticks in it. I was kinda lying about that. But, yet, kinda not. They did the same in the afternoon at the crit, in the car with a Nintendo DS and colouring markers, and a cooler full of snacks. They were ever-patient.

In many ways the weekend was just as much for them as for me. 

After the TT, I skipped the prepared lunch and rushed them back to the hotel for one last swim in the pool and ate leftover pizza and a Dairy Queen Moolate instead. Race fuel at its best. Sometimes race weekends are not just about what you want to do. I had a good time with my kids this weekend. Left the computer at home. (OK, I did still have the iPhone). The kids were in the pool three times for over an hour on the weekend with no complaints about putting on cold wet bathing suits. My daughter went down the water slide about a hundred gazillion times. And my son really really wanted to go down it too. It was all over his face and he wandered up and down the slide stairs about 6 times without being able to get up the courage. After multiple offers from me to either take him down between my legs or catch him, in the last 5 minutes at the pool before we had to go check out of the hotel, he finally went down with me holding him. He had such a death grip on my arms I wondered if he would drag us both under at the bottom but we got down safe and sound and then it was: AGAIN!!

Of course.

Me and the kids in the hot tub.

And then for the rest of the afternoon, every time I asked them to do something: Put on your shoes. Pack your suitcase. Get your jackets on. It was punctuated with: And then we go on the slide? There is nothing like the post anxiety adrenaline rush that comes with realizing that the thing you feared was actually a ton of fun.

I wouldn't know anything about that. I don't model fear and anxiety about anything.

Yes the sarcasm is fully intended.

See, even in the crit warm-up I don't look relaxed (Photo by Stefan Isfeld)

So after he did the slide, there was no way I could weasel out of doing the crit, as much as I wanted to. And I really, really, really wanted to. And I was terrified the whole time, and now two days later, I've come down off that terror-high and I know I need to do one again. Not because I want to, but because I have to give'er another go.

The goal in the crit was simple: stay with the group. Which I did. Mostly. I was glad the speed was manageable for most of it because there was very little juice left in my old tired legs for the third race. I wonder how much extra energy I burned with my shoulders as tense as they were in all these crit photos. I was even tense in the warm up. I discovered it is hard to stay at the front when you don't corner so well. I felt the yoyo effect over and over and everytime I found myself in a position I liked, I fell back on every corner. One of those damn corners was about a 140 degree turn with a man hole right at the inside edge.

I'm proud to share a frame with these young gentlemen. They make me look good on this 140 degree turn. Willem Boersma and Aaron Carter and if someone could help me out with the right name for the third rider, I'd appreciate that. (Stefan Isfeld Photo)

It was all the strong boys from the junior development team, two junior girls, this old mother of two, and Bill Gendron, speed skating coach to many of these young riders and father of Canadian National cyclist Karlee Gendron who was out kicking butt in a race in Victoria for the weekend.

One of the junior girls dropped off the back from the start. She did finish the race and she still never got lapped. Strong girl, she just doesn't like group riding. She had a great TT too. She'll learn. She's young.

Teaching an old dog like me new tricks, that's another thing all together. I have fear. I know I can get hurt.  I just wanted to hang on. Stay upright. Play fair. Learn. The boys dropped me on the prime lap and then I caught up on the regroup. I got dropped again along with Bill and Hana on the two laps to go sign. Bill basically pulled Hana and me around for the last two laps. I sat in third position. To keep my position in the overall, I knew I just had to finish with Hana.

Myself and Bill Gendron and Hana Boersma (Carolyn Campeau, photo)

So I thanked Bill for his draft at the end of the race. We had a nice little getting acquainted chat on our cool down lap. The truth is, if I had been left on my own on those last two laps, I would have gave up and soft peddled  in. My legs were cooked.

It's funny. And excuse me if I switch gears here and get all philosophical, as I am known to do. Going to California and riding all those hills humbled and changed me as a rider. I don't care what position I fall in anymore. I didn't even have one twinge of anger or frustration with myself for riding through that crappy patch of road after I flatted in the road race. C'est la vie. That's racing.

What I seem to get out of it now is new places to ride and new people to ride with. I enjoyed all the people I got to know over the weekend. I met Nathan and Chris for the first time. I got to know Phil and Carolyn a whole lot better. I gained a lot of respect for Phil and Nettie and the Junk Yard Dogs Club out of Portage la Prairie for the very well organized race they put on and for their great team of volunteers. John the commissaire came up to me every time he saw me with a big smile on his face and asked how I was doing and was I having fun. Fun was just the beginning. It was a positive first race experience. I got to ride with some young, up-and-coming riders that I'm sure I will get to one day say about: I used to race with him when he was only 15 years old. 


But most of all cycling has become about beauty. Beauty like this: (Thanks to Carolyn Campeau for all the photos that follow)

Stage by Stage: Notre Dame de Lourdes Road Race

The cheese does stand alone. There is beauty in solitude. Especially when you are floating on clouds. 

I almost didn't go. It was that close.

First I went to register and the early registration had closed two days before. I didn't immediately see that there was a walk up option so I thought, oh well, I missed out. Then my kids were misbehaving after school on Friday and I uttered a threat that I knew quite readily I would follow through with if it came down to that:

If you you don't stop pestering each other, being rude and not listening, I'm cancelling the hotel with the pool for tomorrow night and we are NOT going. 

I hoped they'd misbehave. I hoped they'd test me. Of course, they did not. They really wanted to swim in that pool.

Why didn't I want to go? I was terrified. I can't explain why road racing scares me most of all when it is the type of riding I am strongest at. I'm lying really, I can explain why, and I have already in this blog elsewhere.

My parents were kind enough to come to my house on Saturday morning at 6 AM so that I wouldn't have to drag my kids out of bed to get to the road race on time. And a true testament as to how awesome my parents are, they then drove them out to the race for approximately around the finish time so that I could take them to the hotel.

The trainer folk and putting Jason Carter to use pinning my race numbers

As my Cat 4 Alter Ego teammates warmed up on their wind trainers in the parking lot, looking like the pros that they are. I headed out on the road to do mine. When Captain Rick told me the wind trainers were to prevent pre-race flats, I told him I didn't care. If I got a flat, I'd be dropping out of the race. This suited me just fine.

This remark, of course, came back to bite me in the ass later. Serves me right.

I chose to race Cat 5 regardless of numerous people telling me I was probably strong enough for Cat 4. No. Maybe yes, maybe no. But I had no experience. I was starting at the bottom. Which meant I got to race with the Provincial Kids who made up most of the Cat 5 peloton. These kids race Cat 5 because they have to for the rules but many of them could race higher levels easily. A large number of them winter train in that magical winter foil for cycling, meaning speed skating. Some of them cycle to keep their fitness for skating. Some of them skate to keep their fitness for cycling. No matter what, it is a combination that works.

Do I blend in nicely among the youth?

So being one of about 5 riders over the age of 18 in the entire Cat 5 race, I wasn't sure what to expect. I hadn't ridden with any of these people before. But we started off slow. Like really slow -- maybe 25km per hour. I ended up beside Willem who I think is about 15 and I remembered him from Cyclocross last year. Willem is a polite and talkative young guy who I had been "warned" (in a good way) was the one to watch out for. When I told him I'd heard this about him, he shrugged humbly.

And it stayed slow like that. I heard some of the stronger older boys mumbling about the pace. And soon we were averaging closer to 30 or 32. Still manageable but as the pace picked up the formation of the group disintegrated. What began as a double pace line turned into a hap-hazard jumble of riders jostling for a spot on the road. Some riders pulled more than others. I always pulled when I hit the front, always certain that when I did, that's when they'd attack. We hit the hills and the pack broke up a bit on every climb but always there seemed to be a slow down after an acceleration that brought most of the group back together.

My plan for the race weekend had been this:

1. Don't crash.
2. Be conservative in the road race.
3. Don't crash.
4. Be reactive rather than proactive. Go with the flow.
5. Don't flat.
6. Give'er on the TT
7. Learn as much as I could from people who know stuff.
8. Stay with the pack in the Crit.
9. DON'T CRASH.

Somewhere near the start

Well, some things can't be helped. Like riding through a cruddy broken up section of road. It was my fault really. There were two such sections of road both within the first 5 kms of the two lap race. One section you had to take entirely to the right. The second section there was a clear section on the right and a narrower section of good road on the left. I got caught trying to take the left route at the patch of broken road that had no left route, and I went right through it.

Thank God for cyclocross skills.

The hissing started shortly after. The kids heard it before I did. (I hate calling them kids by the way. It makes me feel patronizing and old. I'm used to riding with old-er guys who take care of ME... this was backwards). I think it was Willem who said, "Somebody's getting a flat tire." Then I heard it too. Then my mind flipped into denial.

Can't be me.


But I'm the one who rode through that crap section of road.


Nope. Not me... I don't feel like I'm dragging. 

Damn. It probably has to be me. 

And then eventually, but it took about half a km, I could feel I was on my rim of my rear wheel so there was no more denial. So I dropped back, put my arm up for the car that was following us. There was a spare wheel truck behind us but I had no spare wheel. I didn't even have a tube. I had already decided that if I flatted, I'd just DNF.  I put my arm up mostly just to signal that I was pulling over. I thought my race was done and they'd put me in the truck and carry on.

But Coach Jayson from the provincial team came out of the truck asking me what wheel I needed and brought me a replacement rear wheel. And this is what saved my race.

He told me after that if you flat you were supposed to put your right hand up for a rear flat and your left hand up for a front flat. Just like the gears. Front chain ring with the left hand, back chain ring with the right. Makes sense. Unless of course your using SRAM, then the analogy gets thrown out the window.  I had my left hand up because, well, I knew none of this, so I was inadvertently telling him to bring me the wrong wheel.

But the bottom line was that I wasn't expecting to be given a wheel at all, so for that I am grateful.

So I time trialled the remaining 25km of the race, by myself. Still managed to not come in last even though there were a couple of team girls who had got dropped on the first lap who were behind me working together. It was worth a bit of effort to try and catch up because the group was only doing about 26km per hour when I got the flat. It was also worth a bit of work to not get caught by the girls behind me.

I didn't catch up to the group. The cloud photo above was taken about 200m from the turn around so at that point they were no more than 500m ahead of me. You see the leaders coming over the top of the climb in the opposite direction. This is apparently when things started to get good in the Cat 5 race. Somebody attacked on the hill.  I was working hard by myself, harder than I intended to work in the road race. At about 2km from the finish I glanced over my shoulder and the two girls were no where to be seen and a question occurred to me, "Why the hell am I riding so hard? I have two more races tomorrow." So I slowed down and made a joke at the finish line asking the spectators if I should sprint.

And then it was done. I didn't get caught. It was anticlimactic, but it was still satisfying.

Then I was able to do a nice leisurely tube change while watching my kids swim in the pool later that night. Much better than a frantic tire change on the side of the road.

Yes, I can change my own tire, boys and girls.

And this made me all ready for the Time Trial the next morning, and my first ramp start. I think I handled it OK.

Thanks to Carolyn Campeau for the photos. More about the TT and the Crit another day.