MAN I AINT UPDATING THIS THING

You gonna have to wait until I have more jokes in me.

Off to madison for U23 tomorrow.

TOAD: SOME SORT OF TITLE!! WORDS!!!!

Again a day ends. The race, it happened, there were wheels and primes and spandex-clad ladies. What more is there to say? Surely something.

Tonight's race was the Iscorp Downer Classic, a nice little sort-of rectangle plagued with wind and winter-weathered Wisconsin roadways. DANG LOOK AT THAT ALLITERATION.

Ahem.

So, yeah. We departed later than usual, fought traffic tooth and nail to reach the course, and I suited up. Today I would be wearing my spiderman skinsuit, because damnit, I DO WHAT I WANT. I knew instantly what a good decision I had made. I had people cheering for me the entire length of the course. "GOOOOOO SPIDER-GIIIIIIRL." This was the theme of the evening. Plus, I was sure at least one person was going to buy me beer.

I rode aggressively right away, perhaps overplaying my hand in terms of sheer watts--but, considering where I am in the omnium, what do I care? I'm more concerned with seeing myself up there doing things. I mean, it is important to hold position in the last lap, yes. Maybe this is just my way of making myself feel better--but the truth is, finally I don't feel sad after finishing a race. Because 1) I know I am strong enough to finish and 2) I am doing things! I am making the suffering!! Or, at least, I think I am.

From the whistle, it was the same game we'd all come to expect--not terribly fast, and so it became a whole different sort of game. Who was stupid enough? Who can take the greatest risk? That, I think, is what TOAD is. Because to win, you have to be willing to risk everything. What did Jade Wilcoxson do at Nature Valley? She put it all on the line; she gambled her body and she lost. That is the sport we play.

So. Anyway. I was unconcerned with placing, or points, or anything. I was thinking about position and primes because this is where I still stood to gain.

The announcer called out some sort of merchandise prime in the middle of the race; I thought I heard that it was for a powertap and I attacked on the left. I looked down and I saw a wheel, but I had gapped it a bit and I pushed harder. But then! I realized it was Cari Higgins on my wheel, and she came around me with a huge burst that I could not match. We were far from the field at this point and she continued. I gripped my handlebars and followed. She seemed content to hover just up the road. Suddenly, an Iscorp rider and a Colombian rider jumped up to us; I caught back on and we were four.

At this point, Cari seemed unmotivated to work anymore (it had been a couple laps). I did one more big pull (though, I probably should have just attacked them all--but I was weary) and nobody would come around me. I resolved to be caught.

Much sketchiness ensued. A girl cut swaths across the road with her bike, seemingly looking for the forward-moving swarm; another chopped me in the turn and scrubbed my front wheel. I like to think of creative things to yell in these instances but, unfailingly, the only thing I can muster in my panic is a crass "HEY WHAT THE FUUUUUUU MAN!!" There are so many better insults! "WHAT IS THIS!? TIDDLYWINKS???" or "I DON'T REMEMBER SIGNING UP FOR FULL CONTACT RUGBY," or even "YOU HAVE A BIG OLD FAT BUTT."

I think it is still important, even given the spirit of the race, to be nice. I mean, there is a difference between racing and just being a big old bag of dicks. This is a thing that should make us feel happy--look at everything we invest into it. If it is only an outlet for all of our rage, then--well, I could do better robbing banks or pyromaniac-ing, I think.

I did feel quite good in this race; the two days off while I was nursing my sick wounded self seem to be paying me dividends. But--for all my strength I am not there in the finish. I am so far back! It is one thing to say, "you have to fight," but it is entirely something else to actually do it. I don't know. If I win, I want to win because I am the strongest; not because I chopped some person and closed their line to steal a few positions. That is not how Marianne Vos wins. That is not how the people I respect win! It is something to think about, truly.

Our race finished and we cheered for Diego; while this went on I met a very nice lady and her niece from Idaho and they bought me beer. They were quite friendly, and I don't know if they will read this but I thank them for their niceness and conversation!

Diego was caught in a crash with only two or three laps to go; his race ended in a stroke of bad luck. But that is the nature of the game. We loaded the minivan and went on back to Wauwatosa.

Tomorrow is the final day! I can hardly believe it. I feel a different sort of person when I am here. It is a very simple existence and I am so happy to do it. I will be sad when I have to think again on the bigger mysteries of my life, about the purpose of the lizard and so on and so forth. But--I will think on that when it is here. Tomorrow I race again like a lizardy demon, aggressive to the point of foolishness. For that is my style, I think.

Anyway. Until then!

TOAD: THE FINAL DAYS

Christ! Finally, it comes near to the end, in the sense that I can at least see it now. You know how a thing seems so long that it simply never completes? Like a unending tunnel of black. But happier. Okay, it's not a tunnel of blackness. But, I mean, the description serves my purpose. You will live if it is not totally apt.

So, here is what happened today.

TODAY, MORNING!!!!!!
I awoke, feeling once again like a human and not like a plugged-up nostril monster. I was joyous at this. I put on my cycle wear and readied for morning spin!! We did this, and then stopped at a coffee shop for DIRTY CHAI!!! I had not experienced the wily caress of caffeine in two days now, and this hit me like a good old fashioned punch in the teeth. That is to say, I enjoy and love being punched in the teeth. You know.

Promptly following this excursion, we went home to lunch. I worked on my book and listened to Heart of Courage by Two Steps from Hell on repeat. It is my new favorite song, I think. The strings!! THE STRINGS.

We ate lunch, and laid around a bit. I took two more emergen-c shots for good measure. You know, don't just get not sick; you have to grab sick by the throat, shake it a bit and then spit in its face. The insult is key. "YEAH SICKNESS. COME BACK AND TRY ME AGAIN FOOL." That kind of thing.

WHAT DAY IS IT? Later

We left for the race course. Diego put on "Pitbull Radio" on pandora. I am ashamed to say that I knew and loved every song that came on. DA LE.

EVEN LATER

Vanessa and I warmed up with the "colombian secret," prescribed by Diego. No, we will not tell you what the colombian secret is.

LATER STILL

The warming up and stuff was over. There was no inspirational self-talk today, because I was happy just to feel well enough to ride. It was a flat, four corner crit. Very orthodox. Very much what you would expect. The course offered little to narrow the field, and I enjoyed this.

They announced the first prime, and I went for it despite the lead-y feeling in my legs. Heck, why am I here? I have little faith in my finish, I might as well go for money. I jumped on the backside and chugged along in the tailwind going about 31-32.

I realized at the corner that I had superstar Debbie Milne and some other girl that I did not know on my wheel...MAYBE THEY WILL BE AS NICE AS SAM SCHNEIDER? Yeah, no chance of that. They sprinted around me like I was not moving. We hovered about 5-10 seconds in front of the peloton (if that) and I was somewhat pleased that I could even get that distance away.

I attacked once more at the $200 prime, but to no avail. I think scotti got that one. Bejesus!!! they so strong. I am humbled.

The rest of the race was uneventful; I spent the hour repeatedly moving up and slinking back, either top 5-10 or LAST. DFLLLLL. Idk man. It is rough stuff out there.

AFTER
The race ended, I was not entirely displeased with my performance considering the fact that I had spent the last two days swaddled in blankets, sniveling to episodes of Sherlock. It began to rain during diego's race, and he pulled himself. We went for dinner (a pizza which i consumed in perhaps 3 bites), and retired to the Hardman casa.

Tomorrow another criterium. I shall continue this egregious style of racing in which I attack repeatedly. REPEATEDLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HEART OF COURAGE IS PLAYING. I AM SO FULL OF HOPE, INTERNET.

Until later,
Lizard

THE LIZARD HAS BEEN CRUSHED BY TOAD: Well, mostly, but not quite.

HOT DIGGETY. Wow I haven't written for a good while. Well, audience, I do have an excuse. And a good one, too. Yes.

THE PLAGUE. THE PLAAAAAGUEEEEE. I told you that Lapars was dying, perhaps of dysentery? Well. I thought my body had repelled said illness. In fact, I was sure of it. I WAS WRONG.

WRONG. WROOOOOOOOOOOOOONG.

THE MORNING
You know. Who knows what day it was? I feel like I have lived in this basement my entire life.

 It began, I think, with Waukesha; that race really took the guts out of me. The whole time I felt something was...you know, horribly wrong. Other than the fact that I was dying, that is. I went to sleep that night feeling normal, and awoke with a dreadful feeling of doom.

I was advised by many to take the day off, but of course, I did not. The next day--Schlitz Park. Surely, I should take this race off! But alas, I did not. I raced this as well, if you can call what I did that morning racing. Let's just say...I was feeling somewhat less than my lizard prime. But what can you do.

I flatted my carbon tubular front wheel (OF ALL THE THINGS) just before the thing began, and was forced to try out a neutral support Zipp 404 (poor me). It did not postpone or ameliorate my sad performance, but I like to think that it helped.

After the race I met up with Amy and Laura, two amazing floridian racers who happen to be dominating the women's 3-4 racing up in the land of dairy and, apparently, respiratory illness. I told them of my wheel-related suffering, and they promptly offered to take it to their sponsor shop, Wheel and Sprocket, to give it some TLC. I, of course, accepted, flabbergasted by their niceness. They are perhaps the nicest ever. EVER? Yes, ever.

LATER
I went home from Schlitz park and made my way to the couch that has come to know me quite well. I laid down, and slept. And slept. And slept.

AND SLEPT. You get it, right?!

The morning came, but the lizard did not stir.

"Liiiiiz?" Diego and Vanessa prodded me, but I merely made a weird noise and rolled over in my stupor. "LIIIIIZ?"

Nothing worked. In fact, I have no memory of them even trying to wake me! I was officially, candidly, tritely, dead to the world. Jen remarked that I had been "hiding out in their basement like a teenage boy." Yes, maybe. IF I WERE A TEENAGE BOY DYING OF INFLUENZA.

I suffered in my dungeon like a little troll, watching an endless stream of Sherlock episodes. BENNYBLUB CANDLESNATCH. If you are Charlotte and you are reading this, then you get that joke.

So I did not race the next day. And then, the next. These were both road races and I felt like utter death the entire time, so I did not despair much over missing them. Because, really, I would have ridden like garbage. Also, I must consider the nationals that are happening next week. We'll need the lizard in her tip-top, yes? Yes.

I drank more packets of emergen-c than is probably healthful, and consumed cup upon cup of herbal tea. I was browbeating this illness back with homeopathy!! Or, that is what I told myself I was doing. gradually my demeanor improved. My throat felt less like a sand box littered with pinecones, and my brain pressure released. I began to feel again like a human being! Joy.

So, aside from the lovely barbecue we attended with Diego's teammates from Team Predator, none of us did much today. Tomorrow we ride again! Me, mostly because I need to wear my spider-man skinsuit in a race. You know, testing the waters and all.

I shall update you on the race tomorrow! GOODNIGHT YALL

A LIZARD IS NOT A TOAD: Sheboygan? SHE BOY, GAAAAAAAAWD

That title is a suggestion for Justin Bieber's next single. You're welcome, beebz.

Anyway, shall I get to it?!

MONDAY, 5:00 AM

I awoke in a flushed sweat, swimming in a blanket that was much too warm. I felt a general awful feeling. "GOD," I thought, "I WOULD GET SICK. I JUST WOULD." I threw the blanket away and tried to sleep. I succeeded, and slept. And slept. And slept.

I slept through what would have been our morning spin. I had a clusterous sniffle-feeling in my brain, and my throat felt like a sort of desert-y scene in a cowboy movie. You know, where the tumbleweed ambles wistfully across the screen, and some whistly music plays. It felt like that. But more awful.

MONDAY, 11:00
I went with Vanessa and Diego to a Latino supermarket called "El Rey," as I thought this may improve my temperament. I got a giant burrito, but my face and brain continued to hurt.

MONDAY, later.
I slept more. I pondered whether or not it was a good idea to race. Could I not race simply because I was sniffling?! I laid on the couch and snored for two more hours.

MONDAY, 2:00
It was time to depart. I still felt pretty gross, but resolved to at least start the race. I would go in, hold a good position until the first prime, and then drop out if I felt awful. That was the plan.

MONDAY, 4:00
After a good warm-up of redbull and Ke$ha, I went promptly to the start line. It was no longer NCC racing, and so the number of riders had thinned considerably. I secured a starting position at the front (finally) and awaited our start.

IT began, quite unlike I had imagined it would. The course, a flat rectangle, offered little to keep breakaways alive. The wind blew heartily down the long start/finish stretch and the turns were wide enough to pedal through. Of course, this does not mean people were pedaling through them.

When the first prime was called, it was only for $25.00. I was somewhat unimpressed. I held my position and waited. After a few moments the announcer called a $50.00 prime. I WANTED THAT THING!!!!!! ON the back side of the course I attacked. I was still standing up when I noticed someone on my wheel. "DAMN," I thought, "the point of this was that I cannot sprint." Now I had some fool on my wheel who could easily take my coveted dollars!

I stood up and pushed a heavier gear. The person behind me did not contest it, and I crossed the line first. Then, I looked back to see that it was Sam schneider on my wheel!!! I was all, "WHAT THE WHAAAAAA". She totally could have taken that from me. But she did not. So I am unsure what her thinking was in chasing me. But that was a cool moment of my life, I guess.

I was not too tired from this, but she did not seem interested in continuing (even though we had a gap). She sat up, and so I sat up and then we were recaptured.

The announcer called a $150.00 prime and this i wanted very much. I was fifth wheel or so and awaiting a moment to strike when Scotti wilborne went to the left. This was quite unfortunate for me. I tried to respond to the right but she had surprised me at just the correct moment, and some other girl was now on my wheel. I hesitated more--was it prudent to pull this girl up to scotti? even if i did catch her, i didn't think i could come around feeling as I did. So, I pulled off in the no-man's land and waited for the group to bring her back.

The rest of the race was uneventful. I was at the front with 5 to go, and somewhere in between then and the finish I somehow allowed myself to get pushed to the back and I ended up coming in like....last. So there's that. But I was happy to win money.


Anyway, I am tired now, and merely wrote this out of love for you my faithful audience. Until tomorrow!

A LIZARD IS NOT A TOAD: The definition of insanity

"My father says she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born. I don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight, and that's made me strong. It made me who I am."

This is an avatar the last Airbender quote. Zuko, a character defined by pride (and, simultaneously, shame) says it to everyone and no one in a moment of weakness. Or, it may have been a moment of strength. It is difficult to tell.

But anyway. Yes, an interesting segue. I have often told myself that my short reach has been of my own making. If I only believed I could do it--then I could! But the brain is my weakest muscle, and i remind myself of this often. Today was such a day.

SUNDAY, morning

We awoke, ate, and went for our spin. Vanessa made pancakes. PANCAKES!!!! Also, they were gluten free. This is an important distinction. After our ride we laid around and I had high hopes for the afternoon. This was a new day, after all! I told myself this daily and after every disappointment--there is always another race. There is the next race, or there is nothing at all. I don't leave myself much of a choice.

SUNDAY, 3:00

WE arrived at the course, somewhat later than I might have liked. I had that feeling, you know, the one that you've forgotten something. Or, that something isn't quite right. I don't know. Maybe I am retroactively adding this feeling. I don't think I am.

I warmed up, and remember thinking about how hot it was. GOD, was it hot! And I mean, I live in florida! WHAT IS MY EXCUSE!!!! I AM SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD AT HOT. I drank my obligatory redbull, and prepared for battle.

The start was a cluster of butts and spandex, a sweaty hell. I let Laura Van Gilder pass me to get her glorious call up, and some other girl promptly followed in LVG's wake and planted her ass directly upon my right brake hood. Really?! REALLY GIRL????? It was all the stupidity you come to expect from the start. I frowned and resolved to pass her quickly.

Anyway. It began. I hit my clip in (I am getting good at that), but the girl did not move. She simply did not! I almost shouted, "MOVE IT, SISTER!!" but I refrained of course, because I am a polite gentlewoman and what would this accomplish? Would my shouting move her butt from my path? Of course not.

Eventually she did get going, and consequently I did as well. We were promptly stopped by some somersaulting ladies in the first corner. "Wow," I thought, "this is going to be a great race." In my mind, there is sarcasm. But it doesn't translate to text, I guess.

So, I went to the gutter to hop around the bedraggled, fallen ladies. Whoop whoop! I was around. I looked up the road, and back. I was in the top 20! I took a forward moving wheel. Top 10!? I looked forward and saw nothing. This was a familiar sensation, except usually I am dropped and staring longingly at the empty road hoping to summon the strength to bridge back up at 35 mph.

Anyway. This went on for some time. Lap after lap, even in the front, the corners sucked and people were slowing a great deal for them. And then, there was the heat. Dear god! I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or what, but after about 30 minutes...I began to feel like a floppy piece of cardboard, saddled aboard this machine, flailing about trying to make it go. It was no error of position, it was a failing of my human body! MY STUPID BODY FAILED ME. How frustrating.

I saw vanessa behind me at several points, but at this moment she passed me once more and for the final time. I would not see her again. I was relegated to my usual last-place yoyoing, and after a time i could not continue.

So what is the lesson here? I was aggressive, as I thought I should be. And I should be! I did everything I told myself I had to in those first few moments--get up front, and stay there, and wait for the prime! Because that has been a goal. To win a prime lap. I don't care if it is $50 or $500 but I want one! I can do it, too! I was up front and ready but then I could not sustain. This is a weakness in my training, I think, and it is a thing I must address.

Anyway. I try harder tomorrow. For now, I am tired. GOODNIGHT

A LIZARD IS NOT A TOAD: Clever title derived from the day, except lizard does not know what day it is

This would be another edition of Lizard: Where the Eff Are We? if this were such a thing. Or, perhaps, its own lifetime movie. It would be called, Reptilian Dreams. Or, you know, something like that. Anyway, I'm going to cram two days into this entry, because I fell asleep last night before I could write.

It is hard when I am actually riding and not being a servant, because my brain is so tired. Over and over again I play the race, trying to pinpoint the moment I did not do what I should have. But anyway, I will do my prototypical chrono-blog now. Here it goes.

FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We awoke, as we are wont to do, in the morning. Diego made us eggs because he is great. It poured rain....we bided our time, and awaited fairer skies. Then, we took to the streets for our morning ride. Just a short jaunt, really, but enough to stay loose.

FRIDAY, 12:00 pm
We returned to the Hardman home for lunchies and obviously more Portlandia. Is this blog boring? It seems boring. I am trying to make it funny.

FRIDAY, later
We set off for the race in East Troy. How do I know the name of this race? I didn't have to look it up! No sir!

It was a surburban sort of place, all the houses wood-paneled and similar-but-different in the sort of homey way you might imagine. We parked, and set about our business. Again with the wristbands; today, cowprint. Very appropriate.

Then, warmup--I listened to "Jimmy Iovine" on repeat and whispered, "CRUSH THEM!!!!!" to myself as I did spin ups. I think this is the key. You have to want to destroy people, in this sport. It has to be a fun thing for you, to take everything they think they are and crumble it into a ball. Each day I feel myself get a bit angrier, as I watch my bank account go from $300.00 to 126.00 to fifty. Not really "angrier". Maybe that is the wrong word. But it is a certain pressure. And this makes me happy, because I know the thing before me is something I can do. It is a certainty in my uncertain life.

The race just before ours suffered a chaotic crash with 20 to go; we had to wait for the poor man to be stabilized and transported away before we could stage. I sat staring at the course with a stupid look on my face; there are no nerves anymore.

When we finally began, I was, again, relegated to 70/70th position, sitting sadly last wondering how I could possibly move up from here. A girl's number was pinned incorrectly; we all waited as she repinned. The moments went by. The peloton sat silently, each hoping the worst for the other, each hoping this race held some new success in store.

The course was a punchy six corners. This makes things much more difficult for me, because I am good at hammering on a flat. I am less good at technical riding--but I improve all the while.

Anyway. It was a desperate need to move forward for sixty minutes. I saw Vanessa in 10th position and told myself, "you need to be there!" but the trouble is, sixty other ladies are also saying this. Damn them!

I was sloughed off in the final lap by riders pinging off the back (though I'd tried my best to move up, move up!) I pushed my hardest and caught only the very tail-end of the group. It was good for 32nd place. I remember looking up the road and thnking, "the race is up there." For all my effort, I was not even in the race.

FRIDAY, 5:00

Vdrigo and I met up to watch Diego's race. I was violently beamed with an ejected water bottle during this 90 minute period. Just throwing that out there.

Diego's race ended with another stupid UHC sweep (of course) and directly afterward we went out for dinner at a place where they served beer. WHEEEEEEEE

Golly this is exhaustive. My eyes are tired!

SATURDAY!!!!!!!!!!

That is today! The morning: breakfast, pre-ride, and lunch. And, of course, more portlandia. Anyway, the race. The race is what we should be interested in, isn't it? Yes.

It was a course that probably should have suited me. Wide turns, and a slight uphill to help me hold position! things should have been very good!

Anyway, it happened mostly as it always does. It began, I clipped in spectacularly, and we were off. I was turning as well as I could ever expect myself to, and the pace was not too difficult. I was moving up aggressively along any open line, and I even reached the very front of the group. A modest goal, yes. But I did it and that is something.

So, there was a large crash about halfway through the race. Nobody really knew what happened, but I did see a girl's front fork sheared off her bike with the wheel still attached. It was traumatic to see, but more traumatic because I was behind it and forced to chase for the next two laps. It was damnably bad luck, but something I allowed to happen by BEING TOO FAR BACK AHHHHHHHH. Curses.

There was another crash in the final corner, just in front of me. I whipped around to finish just behind the peloton. 34th, i think.

Tomorrow is another day. I fight them harder! I am tired of writing. I go sleep now. HAMMPPPPPPP

A LIZARD IS NOT A TOAD: Lizard Hood races through Sherwood Criterium

Lizard Hood! That made me laugh. Probably just because I am tired, and the idea of me giving money to poor people is hilarious. Also, the race isn't even called Sherwood. It's shorewood. I MAKE IT BETTER.

Anyway, I apologize for the lackluster entries past, hopefully I have some more gusto in me tonight!

Here we go.

THURSDAY, THE CRACK OF DAWN
Yes, again! These northern sunrises come early and have a knack for finding the exact path through the window and into my eyeballs. Even in our luxurious dungeon, I found myself wide awake at about 8:00 am--if you know me, you know that is preposterously early in Lizard hours. We stirred, and Diego fixed us a feast of eggies and toast; Kevin, our host, showed us how to use his mysterious Dutch coffee maker.

THURSDAY, later

We went out for a spin, which felt remarkably like a mountain bike ride thanks to the "rugged" roads of Wisconsin. I.e., you catch air every three to five feet from the sweet jumps.
After our little jaunt, we stopped at a nice cafe where Diego and I had tea; Vanessa sipped an 'Orangina.' Don't ask me what this is, because I can't even say the name without laughing.
While we were relaxing, I was surprised by a tribe of ragged little hoodlum girls, each with a longboard wrapped under a prepubescent arm. These little urchins threw my cervelo to the ground (perhaps by accident, but this is a distinction I am unwilling to recognize), laughed about it, and pranced away as if this were some trivial thing.
"WOOOOOOW," I cried, finding myself unable to summon the basic powers of speech. "JUST WOOOOOOOW."
The little girls tittered with more giggles, and scrambled away, clearly sensing my ungodly rage. That's right, little girls, you'd better run. RUN. CAUSE THE LIZARD TAKES NO PRISONERS.

THURSDAY, 12:00
We retired to la casa Hardman for lunchies and to watch a show that I consider to be like as the crack cocaine. It is called 'Out of the Wild' and it makes me chuckle. Basically, like fifteen strangers subject themselves to absurd tortures of nature for no prize other than knowing that they are the craziest people alive. I may or may not still be watching it now. I will never tell.

THURSDAY, 2:45
We piled into the car to leave for the first of eleven races. We had one errand before departing to the race; this was to collect a fellow racer, Kat Carr, from her host housing and deliver her to the course where her teammates would be. We did this, with much gusto.

On the way to the course we encountered (of course) the mighty fearless femme ladies cruising over a large bridge that did not look like it had ever expected to be graced with such cycling majesty. We honked, and waved, because we have no shame.

THURSDAY, later.
We arrived at the course, and went to registration. It was here that I learned that we would be forced to wear wristbands at each race, like little tweens who try to go out to nightclubs and illegally slurp alcoholic beverages.
"These are not aero," I cried, while strapping the starred-and-striped paper thing to my arm.
"They are patriotic," Vdrigo repied.

We took to our warmups: for me, redbull and some slapping of my own face and thinking about how poor I am. Also I rode around some. But what can you do.

THURSDAY, 5:00
The race was a paltry 20 minutes out, and I was taken with a feeling I had never felt before. It was a good feeling, certainly, a feeling that I could do well if only I used all of the knowledge that I knew I had. This knowledge, sometimes given and other times taken--this was what I needed for success! I

THURSDAY, 5:24
I awaited the whistle with my heart in my throat. Next to me was Mia Loquai, who had worn the White jersey for a bit at Nature Valley. I made a mental note that I had to beat her if I wanted the amateur jersey myself. Then, the whistle blew.

I clipped in right away, which filled me with both gleeful happiness and astonishment. Things never went this well! But there I was, and they were. I did not question it, and instead followed some wheel that seemed to be going forward.

The course was a circuitous mishmash of potholes and terror. Two elongated straights connected whippy turns. All the while divets and imperfections in the road set everyone's teeth on edge. The group was twitchy, nervous, and quiet.

The pace was not fast enough to check the flow of the group. When you moved up instantly there was some new wheel coming up beside you and pushing in. Egad! I thought, unceremoniously, how does Vdrigo stay up here?! I could see her, constantly perched just sort of ahead--3 wheels ahead, or four. But of course, this meant I was at least ten-to-fifteen positions back. My standards were not high enough. But the principle of my race was good, I think, and never did I find myself in my usual last-place yoyo slot.

 But, yes, it was a hectic, devilish swarm of ladies, and that is not even a good thing! This went on for quite some time, with primes being called but not really heard by anyone but the first few riders. I know this, because I confirmed it with basically everyone. EVERYONE.

With 3 to go, I was a big baby and let some girl push me toward the curb. I braked hard and lost a lot of positions. Stupid lizard! I should have pushed back, but I did not. Damn my good nature! I must be the size of two of her!!!!!! ALL I HAD TO DO WAS LEAN IN AND SCARE HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tomorrow I punch her in the teeth.

Jarred by this near miss, I hit a big pothole which dropped my chain, and then I took the final turn stupidly wide and lost 10 more positions. Vanessa, for some reason, was behind me and watched me take this graceless turn with much confusion.

"I just don't know what you were doing," she later told me. Neither do I, Vanessa. Neither do I.

I finished in a mediocre 40th. I was encouraged, though, by my ability to move through the peloton (somewhat) and by how great I felt during the race.

THURSDAY, 8:00
Vanessa and I settled in for Diego's race. I was given a free "soda" from the nice people in the giant Chrome hippy van parked near us. United Healthcare pulled all their usual tricks, 1-2 and 3 on the podium. OOH WHAT A SURPRISE. SOMEONE PICK MY JAW UP OFF THE GROUND AND REATTACH IT TO MY FACE

THURSDAY, later
Diego made a rice concoction! It had eggs in in. EGGGGGG. We ate it and it was good. WE are now still watching Out of the Wild, so I will depart now. Goodnight!!

A LIZARD IS NOT A TOAD: and thank god for that, because reptiles are better than amphibians

Do you know how close I was to just not writing this?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW!??

I am tired and really full of noodles. LOVE MEEEEE. Anyway, here you are.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 19 - The Crack of Dawn
Yes, I know I frequently refer to this time of day. But this time, it was literally that time. The very crack. So. Yeah.

 Lynette and Michael roused me before they had to leave for work, and poured me many coffees. We said our tearful goodbyes and I hugged Lynette (but not Michael, because he was feeling sick. He imposed a hug quarantine.) Michael gave me a copy of Leviathan by Paul Auster to borrow for exactly one year, until I can return to the twin cities to race in the granola plateau myself.

WEDNESDAY, 7:30

I packed up all of my belongings and hustled over to Vanessa's to drink more coffee (I need a quart in me before my heart starts going). We said more goodbyes to Melanie and Reese, and then hit the road.

WEDNESDAY, 8:00

We began the 5.5 hour drive to Milwaukee to collect Diego, who would be staying with us in the place of Lapars.

UGH I AM SO TIRED

Ok I think i am over that.

Anyway, we drove, with only one Starbuck stop mid-drive. The road was long and filled with perils but Vanessa and I navigated expertly.

WEDNESDAY, later

We arrived in Milwaukee, collected Diego, and then stopped at a local Thai restaurant for some SAUCY "Pud Thai". What is pud thai? Heck if i know. It was far too saucy. Saucy, and distrustful.

WEDNESDAY, the rest of the day
We arrived at the home of the Hardman's, where we would be staying, and settled in. It was and is a lavish palace. It took me about six hours to figure out how to operate their futuristic television. Vdrigo made us delicious pasta.

Ok literally I am too tired.
HMP HMMMP tomorrow I will write more I swearrrsssssss

A LIZARD IN THE VALLEY: The sun also sets, contrary to the advice of Mr. Hemingway

I know. I did it again. I am a bad lizard. I have much to fill you in on, yes, and I did promise that tonight would be the night I updated. But I am tired and battling a possible illness of DOOM just before dairyland (maybe. it might also be psychological. BUT WHO CAN EVER TELL). So I will post the briefest of updates and leave much to your imaginations. I am certain they could use the exercise! So, you're welcome.

SATURDAY:
Menomonie! Another road race, this one shorter. 80-ish miles. I told both of my compatriots that I did not believe it in their best interest to ride. In fact, I all but forbade them. Actually, I may have literally forbidden them from riding. But they have noggins of steel and ride they did. What followed was a drudgery of horrid rain and hills like...I don't know, mountains! Everything was so steep. I cried driving up much of the course. And I say "driving up" because golly gee if I remember going down anything! I mean, I am sure I must have. Science, you know.

Anyway. The weather had taken its toll and Lapars took ill. If this were the oregon trail, she would probably be dying of dysentery right now. But thankfully this is only bike racing and she just got a cold. Vdrigo's immunities held and she recovered posthaste.

SUNDAY:
Laura worsened. I think I went on a bike ride. God, sunday was a long time ago! We definitely ate pizza. I suck at this.

MONDAY:
Yesterday...a foggier cloud. Who can tell? What is time? What is life? Lapars did decide on this day that she had to return to Miamers, as her constitution began to fail all the more heartily. I was deeply saddened, as I often depend on her life advice to navigate the perilous waters of adultolescence.

TODAY:
I drove Lapars to the airport and psychosomatically convinced myself that I was falling ill. I consumed probably more ginger, garlic, and lemon than is healthy and did all kinds of voodoo nonsense. I MUST RACE. I MUST RACE DAIRYLAND AND I MUST CRUSH. That is the only thing I can think of, as poverty strikes me and my book blinks incomplete on my word processor. I slept a lot...that is a thing i did.

I am obviously feeling better, as I am updating here, and this gives me hope. As I begin to race, I will publish here a sort of race journal, filled with the adventures of one lizard searching for her place in this strange world!

I must rest. Don't be the reason I fell ill, internet. Goodnight!

(Sorry this post is lame)

A LIZARD IN THE VALLEY: Where is Billy Joel when you need him?

Can I just take this time to admit that I am lol-ing at my own Billy Joel-ke.

Okay, sorry. I promise I am done.

Here is the day:

FRIDAY, an hour I consider early but probably isn't really

I awoke, and found it too late to hang out with Lynette and Michael, but also too early for Lapars and Vdrigo to be awake. What a conundrum. I used the time to add pictures to my blog, and also consider that I may be entering stalker territory with some of my fangirling. Is it terrible to be appreciative of greatness?! It might be.


FRIDAY, 11:00
Lapars and Vdrigo finally stirred. Finally! I made my way over to them, and we set out for a light spin. I directed them through the course (as my managerial duties demand), and then Lapars headed home while Vdrigo and I stopped for a coffee. She told me several ticklingly brilliant stories of her cycling adventures and I felt it to be quite the perfect morning. A highlight: Vanessa and I were at a crosswalk, waiting for the green light, when another cyclist couple rolled up behind us. They were older, sort of grizzled. You know the kind.
"So," said the man to Vanessa, as he teetered to and fro aboard a jelly belly team edition bike with a belly and a head of gray hair, "which bike do you think is more expensive?" He nodded to the woman with him, who was on a cherry red cannondale. Vanessa indulged.
"I don't know," she said.
"WELL, THIS ONE WAS IN THE TOUR DE FRANCE!!!!!!" He was very proud.
"YEAH," The woman added, "IT'S NOT EVEN A REPLICA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I was sort of off in space, and only half listening to the conversation. What did they want? A pat on the head, and for us to tell them that their bicycles could give meaning to their dumb lives? We should have said, "Yes, whatever. BUT WHO CAN GO FASTER?" Vanessa would have dropped those fools so fast, they wouldn't know which way was France! Heck, I don't ever know which way france is.

FRIDAY, LATER
What did we do later? Did we do anything?

Oh, yes. I did laundry! That's why I don't remember. Uneventful! Bah. So, yeah. You're welcome, world, I will stink less now.

FRIDAY, 3:00
Vanessa offered to cook me some noodles; I of course accepted and sped over to her place as quickly as my little legs would allow. We watched arrested development (FOR BRITISH EYES ONLY) and consumed our power carbs. I met a very funny cat at this time, whose name, I discovered, was 'Kitty'. Very postmodern, kitty. Very, indeed.

This cat is not a cat. This cat is a dog.

FRIDAY, 4:30
Lapars came down from a slumbery nap and asked me to fetch her some items from a bike shop; I did this with much style and grace while she and Vdrigo kitted up and rolled out to the course. I selected expertly from a wide variety of guus, and then returned to the course.

The uptown atmosphere had a definite family flavor, and I felt weird walking around alone. I did not find Vanessa or Laura, but I did find Lynette and Michael, who brought me to a party on course where, apparently, I was to be a guest of honor. It was being thrown by their friend, Amy, who was once a school teacher and had held on to her knack for crafting. She presented me with a lanyard (my party access pass) and a cup of water. I was delighted.

FRIDAY, 6:15
The race began, with all the horror and madness I had come to expect from Nature Valley. These teams are filed equations of watts and rage! They produce such pain, from nothing! I still do not understand how they do this. I screamed for Lapars and Vdrigo, who took turns suffering and moving through the peloton to a better position. I wanted so badly for them to do well, and I still do! Because they are my people, you see!

STOP BEING SO GREAT

Kimberly Wells seems very sure of how amazing she is.

This girl is only 19. Where is the hope for my life?!

TAYLER WILES. 

There are two pictures of Tayler Wiles. You're gonna have to deal with it.

Jade kicks all the butts.

Golly, pro ladies, I wish I knew how to quit you.

Dear lord.

RAMSEN CRUSHES ALL

Colavita: sponsored by oil, but not fat. CONUNDRUM

t

This lululemon rider is filled with a smiley pain.

Don't mind me, I am just CRUSHING YOU

STOP IT. JUST STOP.

In case you forgot, we are optum and we are better than you.

Tibco was forced to chase hard and often.

Lindsay Bayer getting her suffer on.

GO SHANNON. GOOOOO.

Shelly olds be like, "DAT PRIME MINE." 

The peloton fights to stay alive.

Lapars, hero and inspiration of my life!

Wow, I have a lot of pictures of Ally Stacher, huh? Don't read into that.

Don't worry. That's a different lululemon.

THE FINAL SPRINT.

Wilcoxson be like, "LOL WUT."

Anyway, it was a damned hard race, and that was clear from the get-go. Optum was racing smart and shrewd, playing their cards almost smugly and watching the rest of the race react with gasps and pain. They strung Tibco up from the beginning, forcing them to chase and to work, and with 2 laps to go they ripped apart their train and secured the win for Jade Wilcoxson (Whose name, I have discovered, I have been spelling wrong all this time. Sorry!)

FRIDAY, later
I did not see Vanessa right away, but I did see laura, and I went over to see how she was feeling. She was of course a bit depressed about the evenings proceedings; I was moderately discouraged by this. If the masterful laura can be waylaid by nature valley, what hope is there for a mere lizard?! IS THERE ANY HOPE?! She is too strong to be beaten by one silly race, though, and I know this will not stop her ascent to greatness. Vanessa rode strongly, through her suffering, to a top-twenty placing. She is a miracle woman, and a testament to the power of mental game over a cycling race!

I went to fetch ice for ice baths, and we all ate dinner and discussed the race a bit. Plans were laid for tomorrow's feeds and travel itinerary. For now, we go on to fight Menomonie. After that--maybe, sioux falls. No matter what happens I am so proud to assist such iron-hearted ladies as these! No duties could bring me greater honor, truly. Because behind all the frills and whoop-de-doo they fight just as hard, and that gives me hope for the rest of my life! So thanks for that, ladies.

It is late now. Until tomorrow, my friends!

A LIZARD IN THE VALLEY: Cannon falls? More like...can you not falls ALL OVER THE PLACE

AUGH. MORE I WRITE. And all for you people!! I am excited anyone even reads this, really. I should not complain.

So anyway. Here we go:

THURSDAY, wee morning hours

I had planned to wake up early, because--as team manager--I decided that we should get on the road off toward Cannon Falls at promptly 1:15. Why this arbitrary time? Well, everyone knows that the quarter hours are used only by the suave and professional. Hence, 1:15.

My alarm went off at 7:30, which had sounded reasonable the night before, but in the grim light of day I knew that there was no way I was getting up. I slept two more hours.

THURSDAY, later.

I finally dragged myself from my luxurious lizard nest and into the kitchen. "Coffee," I said, to no one, as Lynette and Michael are real people with jobs, "I need coffee." I taught/reminded myself quickly to use a french press, partly via the magic of youtube. The result was a glorious punch in the mouth.

I waited a few minutes for the caffeine to start my heart beating again, and then donned stretchy pink lycra for some quick morning suffering.

THURSDAY, 12:30

Ride over. I showered and got everything I could possibly think of that one might need in a road race--extra guus, extra bottles. I generally just brought anything I had duplicates of, just in case there might be some foreign need for it. Toothpaste? Check. Drawstring bag? Check. CHECK. ALL THE CHECKS.

I rode over to Laura and Vanessa's accommodations and we discussed the order I was to hand them bottles in. Water, for example, was to be given first, unless there was some sort of split-second communication in which I would be told to give NOT water, and hand something else instead.. Or something like that.

It was a harrowing experience, and I was filled with anxiety about these handoffs. They happen so fast! I, a humble lizard, am the only barrier between the rosebandit warriors and an unquenchable thirst! I don't care who you are, that is some responsibility. I was atlas, with a thirsty globe upon my back. THIRST.

I went to the store for ice, water, and a coke to feed Vanessa after she had suffered sufficiently in the race; once I had accomplished these things, we were ready to depart.

THURSDAY, 1:30

I drove the ladies, thanks to siri, to Cannon Falls, all the while driving like an idiot because I was thinking so intently about how I would accomplish bottle handoffs to two riders with only myself and my lizard wiles to aid me. I think I got the adrenaline flowing, maybe.

THURSDAY, 2:30

We arrived at team parking and set about readying the ladies for war!!! WAR!!!! All that pre-race nonsense, you know. We agreed on a firm bottle-giving schedule, and this gave me some degree of solace and comfort in that I would not ruin the race for them by accident.

Once I was certain VDrigo and Lapars were prepared, I returned to our valiant Dodge Caravan and sallied forth to feed zone one. Once there, I commenced the waiting. The waiting. And the waiting. Feed zoning, it seems, is like millwork. It is an awful boring job. MUSICAL THEATRE JOKE. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

So, I sat there, and played Ke$ha loudly and was stared at by the entire volunteer squadron--which seemed to be comprised solely of high school boys. They did handstands in the street, and offended a farmer on a 4-wheeler. When the farmer came over to my car to take a picture of the license plates of all of our cars, I tried to yell, "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! I'M NOT WITH THEM!" But he was unconcerned with this distinction.

After this excitement, the men came through. I was giddy with happiness, as this meant that the women would soon come through, and that meant that I would get to leave this vacant field in The Middle of Nowhere, Minnesota. Though, its piggy smell had begun to grow on me. Alas.

The group slinked up the incline toward the feedzone, a compact peloton against the winds (which were blustery, I must say). I handed Laura her bottle without issue, though some other girl tried to take it (!!!!); VDrigo opted for no fluids at this time.

I BEEZ IN THE TRAP, BEEZ, BEEZ IN THE TRAP!

THURSDAY, Mile 30 (ha! I used something besides time! I DO WHAT I WANT)

Once the girls were beyond me, I jumped back into the car and gunned it after the caravan. Sitting very, very last, after a couple sharing a moped (WHY?), I felt almost part of the proceeding! How joyous for me. During my time "in" the caravan, I noticed a Kowalski/Collegiate all-star rider girl changing a flat and then jumping back after the peloton. I must mention her, as I wanted so much to motor pace her back up the the peloton! Isn't that the point of a team car?! Hers just abandoned her and sped back up to the group, leaving her! A poor lonesome college starlet! I am not sure if this is the rule, but I was forced to watch her doggedly chasing for several moments, facepalming, and screaming through my closed windows "HELP HERRRRRRR."

THURSDAY, Mile 72

I arrived at the second feedzone approximately one hour til the women's peloton was to arrive. With no possible way to know what in tarnation was happening, I was relegated to that lowest form of social media...the twitter.

NVGP's twitter campaign was helpful, but certainly not stellar in its coverage. Truly, to tweet that there is a crash and then not tell the gasping audience of your tweet who was injured!? THAT IS SO CRUEL, NATURE VALLEY.

I learned later that this crash did, as I feared, impact Parsons, who was forced to chase strenuously after the peloton. She told me that she was paced at 36 miles per hour to get back on, and I wondered how this was not harder than the actual race. Apparently, I am sophomoric and amateur.

The crash, though bad for Lapars, set Vdrigo up for a moment of success; she jumped after an attack and found herself in a three woman break. They established about a minute lead over the peloton, and gobbled up some Queen of the Hill points before being swallowed back up. I tweeted frantically about this, and would just like to mention how grateful I am to have the opportunity to tweet "SoSwissSoFast" and have a legitimate reason to do so. THANK YOU, VANESSA.

The pair came into the feedzone relatively close together, and both got their bottles without much issue. I AM LIZARD. I hand bottles like a champ.

THURSDAY, later.

I followed the colavita, optum, and tibco cars back out of the rural wilderness and into the "metropolis" of Cannon Falls. I discovered that these team cars drive exactly how they race bikes, and was filled with an unholy terror as I watched Colavita's van drafting the optum van, and then both vans divebomb the right turn onto CO road 19. This recklessness, it is a thing I must learn!

We made it back into town just as the racers were entering their finishing circuits--and HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS, I have never been so floored by speed. I mean, consider that these racers have just completed ninety miles of gnarly, hill-infested, pedal mashing. They have been in the sun for four hours, hands crunched around their drop bars, WAITING for something to happen. FOR FOUR HOURS. I am not kidding you when I say I have never seen these women go so fast. It was full-gas, criterium-style, on a course probably half of the remaining riders had not ridden before. Carnage ensued.

Optum hit the front hard and did not look back. A break of Tibco and Lululemon riders went and was drawn back, and then there were two laps remaining. I scoured the peloton for Laura and Vanessa, and willed them hang on with all of my lizard heart!! For the life of me, I do not know how they survived.

CAN YOU TELL...

But survive they did! The race ended and I have never seen them both filled with such happiness to be finished. I tended to my soigneur duties, and took them home for ice baths, and bed.

....that these are video screen captures...

....because they are.

A jersey update:

Jade wilcoxen, that godly woman, threw the hammer down for first place tonight and proved herself the strongest of the strongwomen. She keeps yellow. Tayler Wiles moves back into white. Brianna Walle keeps the jelly belly! Kimberly wells, blue, that crusher of souls; Flavia Oliveira wears red and Kat Hall, green.

Jade Wilcoxen wins by what appears to be 27,000,000 bikes lengths.

Tomorrow, the ladies are back for more, the Uptown crit is stage 4 and it is sure to be monstrous. Wish them all the luck! What do you need it for?! GIVE IT TO THEM!!!

More tomorrow,

your faithful, fangirling lizard

A LIZARD IN THE VALLEY: When it rains, it pours on your head as you do 400 watts in a time trial.

EGAD, another day and again I must tell the tale of what happened! This is an exhausting circle, as it feels like I am living everything twice. I am filled with sleepies, and write only out of duty to you, my attentive audience, and so you all must be sure to yammer me with requests for entries and/or unending praise so that I do not get tired and stop writing!

WEDNESDAY, the crack of dawn

I awoke, and saw 5:55 on the LED clock near my bed. A tiny heart attack struck me--FIVE FIFTY FIVE?! HAD I SLEPT THROUGH THE TIME TRIAL?! I blinked several times and realized that it was 5:55 AM  rather than PM and I had not, in fact, missed the prologue of Nature Valley. It gets sunny here at a disgustingly early hour! My servitude was not yet a total failure. I stirred, and Lynnette and Michael gave me coffee and cereal to fuel my lizard self. POWER CARBS.

Vanessa and Lapars arrived just after seven, and we took off through the hellish morning traffic of St. Paul (or, I think that is where we is. I thought we were in Minneapolis at first. But who can ever tell.)

I navigated to the course with all the skill and delicacy of minced ginger. Is that a thing? It is now. We parked, and promptly set to business. I noticed the Lululemons across the parking lot and fainted at least six or seven times; Laura used her feminine wiles to secure trainers for warm up. I suppose this duty falls under a managerial jurisdiction; however, I am not one for wiling.

The skies, gray since I'd rolled from my dusty slumber, opened up in a sort of non-committal rain. It was like, "Well, I guess I could rain on you. Whatever." This was quite rude, as it intensified as the time trials went along. I huddled, in my soaked hoodie, and fangirled over various cycling superstarlets.

Vanessa was set to go off at 8:56; Laura, 9:03. Laura gave me a bit of a scare, as she somehow sneaked past me and got into the bike check without me seeing her--so, at 9:01, I was staring down the road, scouring desperately for pink, trying to postpone conniptions. Eventually she yelled and got my attention. "I thought you weren't going to make it," I told her.

"I race in one minute," she said, flabbergasted, "Where else would I be?!" Touche. This management business is hardly the cakewalk they make it out to be. Who makes it out to be that? I may have just made that up.

WEDNESDAY, 9:16
AT this moment in time, both Lapars and Vdrigo, as I will lovingly refer to them from now on (unless I feel like using a less ridiculous moniker--but for now, these suit me!), were on course presumably crushing everyone. At least, I hoped it was as such. I huddled beneath a tent and taught a volunteer how to use twitter. "Yes," I told him, "now, this is called a 'hashtag'."
"Fascinating," he said. I am the ambassador of my generation.

WEDNESDAY, later.
Vanessa and Laura rolled off the course, rain-drenched, and cursing the discipline of time trial. I did not blame them, and nor did I envy the task of setting out to time trial with Jade Wilcoxen (sp?!) as a two-minute woman. I have done just this, last year at elk grove, only to have the obnoxious orange Optum car pass me in a turn. "REALLY," I called after them, "You'd better kill me to make sure I won't beat you IN THIS FIVE MILE TIME TRIAL IN WHICH I RIDE ROAD BIKE AND HAVE NO AERO EQUIPMENT." Maybe I did not say this, but wouldn't it have been funny and satisfying if I did? LET'S MAKE BELIEVE.

I collected my athletes and transported them to Trader Joes, for nutrients. Then, back to HQ, for napskies.

WEDNESDAY, noon?

A ride for lizard, lest the team manager get too fat. It rained on me.

WEDNESDAY, 3:45
We met at our designated time and I transported the ladies to downtown St. Paul. It is the sort of downtown I imagine grandparents like, in that there is nothing really going on and it is calm enough to almost nap in the middle of the street median. The prerace necessities happened, and I found a spot along the start/finish to watch (aka, tweet obnoxiously). I felt a crushing nervousness despite the fact that I was not even kitted up; I am not sure if this is because I care or because I am a wet noodle of a human being.

IT BEGINS!!!!!

WEDNESDAY, 6:15

The race began with all the firepower I had feared and hoped for. The first few laps (at least, from a sidewalk perspective) were lit up. Vanessa and Laura dug through it, and I screamed like a giddy little teddy bear each time they passed by. I hope that my falsetto was motivating. I also engaged in a brutish text/tweet bombardment of the internet, for which I apologize. I was excited....

Q: What do laura and vanessa do when they are not kicking butts?

A: NOTHING. THEY CONSTANTLY KICK ALL THE BUTTS.

WEDNESDAY, 7:14
IN a twist of dramatic proportions, the race unfolded in the last five laps. It went from a controlled Tibco-train of five riders leading Shelly Olds (another olympian) to a chaotic flurry spearheaded by two orange Optum helmets. With one to go, the tibco lead out was demolished. It was anyone's race.

I was not surprised to see the orange of optum come grilling down the line, Lauren Hall first in their team one-two with Jade Wilcoxen; Shelly Olds took third with a disappointed (I thought) shake to her head. Carmen Small was downed in the last corner, and got 49th. HA! THIS IS THE SORT OF PLACING I GET. FEEL MY PAIN.

Just kidding. Now, for a jersey update: Jade Wilcoxen had secured enough time bonuses to negate Small's disgustingly good time trial. She moved into yellow with a two second cushion. Tayler Wiles lost white--and I may or may not have cried about this--to Denise Ramsden of optum. Kimberly Wells wore blue (is anybody surprised), and Brianna Walle held onto the Jelly Belly jersey. Mia Loquai dons best amateur!

I recovered my riders, and we departed, another battle in our belts.

WEDNESDAY, later

We peaced out and I set to some erranding; I deposited Laura at whole foods, vanessa at home, and myself at a gas station. We noshed some whole foods noms, and then I took off on my bicycle for bed.



I am so tired. Tomorrow, the ladies shall take on the horrors of the Cannon Falls Road race--93 miles, with only a lizard for support, no team car, no mechanic, NOTHING! I shall do what I can for them, but send them some speedy thoughts. MORE LATER

A LIZARD IN THE VALLEY: Nature Valley, reptilian style.

So, friends, a hiatus for you yesterday. A day with no reading--this is a gift to you! You're welcome. I will offer a brief recap of Monday's adventures, as it was largely a day of travel.

MONDAY, 9:00
I awoke early after being thoroughly beat down by crybaby hill and drinking Margaritas with the Plotkin family, my new favorite people in the world. I had decided, on a whim, that I would in fact not return home to the hideous cavern of humidity that calls itself south florida. I would, instead, act as sovigneur to my teammates Vanessa and Laura. Though I am only a lizard, and incapable of very technical support, I would provide what I could, if only because I am bored and have nothing else to do with myself.

It was Laura's birthday, giggity! She spent the morning hustling around Tulsa after rental cars and other bicycling business; Vanessa and I attended to matters of our own (inside joke: How many rose bandits does it take to do laundry? Answer: all of them.) We all met back up around two.

MONDAY, 2:00
 The remainder of this day was spent driving, as this is the prudent thing to do when eleven hours separates you from the glory of Nature Valley. Being the servant for the trip, I knocked out many of the hours myself. After about four, we stopped at a Whole Foods where we got to see a bearded Shaman give a lengthy anecdote about shaving a "beautiful, long-haired cat" and purchase dinner. I spent $34.70 on a food trough of couscous, some tiger balm, and an americano. FRUGAL!

MONDAY, 11:00
We could go no further. Laura fought through an impossible phone reservation with a Days Inn employee, and we ceased travel for the evening.

The first thing we noticed when we pulled into the hotel were youngsters--and not just youngsters, mind you. RUFFIANS! Limarita guzzling, cigarette smoking, hotel-parking-lot-loitering RUFFIANS!!!!!!! Laura and I were immediately miffed.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING," a particularly friendly ruffian asked Lapars and I. "UH...Traveling," she replied. A good, vague answer if I ever heard one! We retired to our room which sported beds that would make a four-foot-tall child giggle, and watched a movie where Cher slaps Winona Ryder in the face. Then, BED TIME.

TUESDAY, 9:00

I can say with confidence that this was the earliest we had ever arisen at a race--at least, at the same time. I was propelled by my natural need for sustenance, and so leapt from my tiny, tiny bed and sponge-lump pillow with hunger. Vanessa and laura followed, in time! We departed for the twin cities, but only after a visit to Starbucks. Necessities, you see.

TUESDAY, 9:30-2:00

More inane driving commentary. I would spare you this, but it is such an essential part of the lifestyle cycliste. Laura made us stop no fewer than twenty-six times, and I piloted the mini-van with all the precision of a surgeon. Well, a plastic surgeon.

TUESDAY, later.

We visited a local bike shop in St. Paul, Omnium Cycles, and they hooked Laura up with a cassette change and some bottles. From there, we promptly took off for the time trial course for a brief ride before my TEAM MANAGER MEETING at 6:30. Yes, you read that right. I, Lizard, am a team manager. I manage.

We did some light riding and Laura gave me some sprint pointers, as my current form rivals that of a dying ostrich. The ladies compared pacing strategies, and I listened intently while wishing I was racing! Though, I would be happy to manage if only I were given some sort of hat.

TUESDAY, 4:45
We completed our pre-ride and loaded the van. We discovered that driving across St. Paul was not unlike piloting a canoe around the port of New Orleans. My grandmother-ish driving was not enough to ensure our timely arrival, and so Laura took over.

We arrived at the Bloomington Holiday Inn fifteen til six. I burst through the double doors and shouted, "WHERE IS THE PACKET PICK UP!" The baffled front-desk ladies gave a timid gesture down the hallway, and I meandered off in search of my papery quest.

I found what I sought, directly down the hall and to the right, as the nice woman had directed me. Imagine! I sat down with all the style and grace I imagine a team manager should have, and said, "Yes, I would like to pick up for my athletes." I almost laughed at these words as they came out of my mouth, but refrained.

 The volunteers were lovely and helpful. I only had to run outside once to complete the process, but I imagine my cover as super-pro Team Manager stands. Or, I hope it does.

TUESDAY, 6:30
Directly following the packet pick-up was the "Manager's Meeting," an event to which I was of course invited as I am a stunningly organized and professional manager. I was delighted to discover that Paul, head honcho for Team Kenda was in attendance as well! We sat together and I took notes on the things that he took notes on; this was a good gauge for what was probably important and what was not. I jotted on a holiday inn sticky pad, and nodded furtively as the speakers went through their talking points.

TUEDAY, later.
We retired from the hotel to our arrangements. Laura and Vanessa would be staying with John and Melanie, who made us a delicious pasta dinner and fed me far too many chocolate dipped bananas. I would be down the street with Lynette and Michael, who are also probably two of the greatest people I have ever met. I bade Laura and Vanessa adieu and spent the evening chillin' with my hosts. This included learning that they have in fact seen my blog (proof that someone reads it besides me), watching Chelsea Lately, and an epic quest to discover the WiFi password so that I could post this.

THE ADVENTURES!!! they are endless. TOMORROW, Vanessa and Laura will tackle two stages--a 7.7 mile riverfront time trial, and a criterium later in the evening. Send them fast vibes and thoughts! Meanwhile, I will document their every move for your enjoyment!


Until tomorrow,

DA LIZARD

LIZARD TAKES TULSA: The lizard seals the deal.

So, friends, I am back. When I left you, it was the morning of my twenty-second birthday. I had just discovered my potential as a spinster/lightly employed road cyclist. The future was bright and terrifying.


So, I think i left you saturday morning. HERE WE GO AGAIN.

SATURDAY, 10:00

It was my birthday, as you know. I was practicing my spinster habits, as I would never be much a cat lady because 1) I am allergic and 2) I am more of a dog person. We all have our struggles. I left my hotel room with much suffering due to the previous evening of crashing and horror, and made my way to the other Tulsan Holiday Inn. Because, you know, one isn't enough.

Amy and Laura presented me with a birthday beet juice (IS THERE ANY BETTER GIFT?!) and we went for a pre-race spin. I felt like death, what with the spinal injury, but all in all things seemed all right!

SATURDAY, later.

We hung around, and Amy and Laura decided that they needed naps. I retired to the casa de Crescenzo, aka Lauren, Team Kenda member and collegiate cycling homie of the lizard. This poorly written sentence means that I forwent Laura's advice to go back to the Holiday Inn express and take a nap, and instead rode to Lauren's to crash the Team Kenda team meeting and put my feet into a swimming pool. When in Tulsa, you know. We lounged, and I tried not to hear too many of the Kenda team tactics so as not to give myself an unfair advantage.

SATURDAY, 4:00
Lauren and I prepared for battle. Kits, helmets, funny socks, and boa fasteners. Check, check, check and check.

SATURDAY, 5:00
Lauren and I set out for the course. Warm up, and advice from lauren's super pro coach were achieved. WE WERE READY.

SUNDAY, 6:00
The race began! Lauren and I found ourselves next to one another, in a sort of okay starting spot. The course itself was an "L" in shape, with a gradual hill and a 90 degree turn at the bottom of said hill. The peloton did its typical game of weaving haphazardly in and out of turns, gunning out of every corner, and so on. But for a time, this did not destroy the lizard. No! I gained spots on the hill, occasionally perhaps in a less-than-orthodox manner of riding (read: I am sketch ball). But I was near the big guns. I tried to stay on the wheel of colavita, the godly Jackie Crowell, or any Fearless Femme riders. I did my best. About halfway through the race, I turned and realized that my middle-ish position was no longer in the middle, and that all those behind me had conceded defeat. The carnage was immense, almost thirty were out.
But still, I had hope! I saw vanessa and laura just in front of me, and the remaining riders were strong crushers. Perhaps it would smooth out? Simmer down?
But this was not to be. Monster crusher Allison powers made her way to the front and threw the hammer down, and the speed ratcheted up to 29+ mph as fearless femme began to chase to set up the win for Theresa Cliff-ryan. The lizard was slung this was and that, and eventually, the wheel I was on popped off and I was left with another gap I could not close.
I finished in 49th place.

SATURDAY, 8:00?
We did our post race finagling, and then set out for dinner with the lovely and fabulous Plotkins (Brenda and Teri)! I drank probably too much beer, and was regaled with cake (!!!), a shirt, and a darling hair bow from anthropologie! I could not believe they bought me presents. These are truly the best people perhaps ever.

SATURDAY, 11:00
Amy, Laura, Teri, and Brenda retired. I, the Lizard, was sleepless, and took to the streets of Tulsa on my bicycle. Where would I go? surely not back to the holiday inn? I rode instead to Lauren's host house, closer than my hotel, to watch 11 minutes of an arrested development episode and then fall asleep on myself.

SUNDAY
We awoke at the crack of 11:00 am and realized with much dread, "Oh god! We race in three hours!" I discovered that Laura had textually invited me to second breakfast and I set out for the Holiday inn, posthaste. However, upon arrival, I discovered that breakfast had ended and that it was too late to really eat alot anyway. So, they provided me with a cliff bar and assured me that this would be sufficient.

SUNDAY, 1:00
I departed alone for the course, riding aimlessly along the bike path searching for the race. Where was it?! It took me a good half-hour to even find the darn thing! I suppose this is good, as it forced me to have a luxurious warm up.

SUNDAY, 2:15 PM
Again we were set to depart. ALL ABOARD THE PAIN TRAIN. POPULATION, ALL OF US. We are at least together in that.
My starting position was horrible, per usual, but I was confident that I could move up an get around many of the riders early if I hit my clip-in correctly. This is a large "if," so my plan B was to merely accept as many Beer Feeds as possible up Crybaby hill and forget that I had ever attempted this race.

But the if was to be! I started quite well, hitting the hill with confidence and panache. The thing I was to experience I was unprepared for, not in the riding sense, but in the sense of the crowd, the atmosphere. It was a wall of sound. It was a crushing crescendo of voices, beer, and water spray. It was glorious. I had never felt so invigorated. Pedal, yes! This was the only thing to do! Pedal down, pedal hard! I geared up and pushed harder. For that moment, I was in it.
But it unwound as quickly as it began. We hit the downhill and a shot rang out--a tubular rolled, and a girl sailed into the curb. She did not stir.

I was gapped, and I pushed hard to catch the group again. There was a long flat between me and the hill. This was the place to get them. Now or never.

And I did! I did catch them. I was quite pleased with myself, as I had never succeeded in this catching-back-on thing. I was on the hill and connected. BUT THEN, of all the accursed things, a girl directly in front of me dropped her chain. I cried out, "WAUGHHHHHHH," the exhalation of all of my frustrations and unhappiness. HOW COULD MY LUCK BE THIS TERRIBLE? Is it luck, or is it me, attracting this misery? Anyway, I slammed on my brakes and went around, but at this point the damage was done. There was a 10 meter gap and my legs burned with shameful death.

The officials let me go through for several more laps, and there were a few instances in which it looked as if I may catch back on a second time--I was drilling the flat as best I could, but any time I made, I lost quickly on the climb and false flat. I resigned myself eventually to my fate. A Crybaby reveler held out a PBR, I grabbed it and dumped it down my throat. This was my race. I was awarded 45th place, out of 76 riders.

SUNDAY, 7:00
We, the rosebandit crew (Amy, Lizard, Vanessa, Laura, Brenda, Teri, and Laura) went for team dinner in honor of Laura's birthday. I drank several margaritas and gave Laura a card that I drew. At dinner, we decided that I would in fact NOT return home, and instead assume the role of servant for Laura and Vanessa at Nature Valley. They needed a Lizard, and a lizard appeared! How lucky for them! How lucky also that I am an irresponsible vagabond with a profound appreciation of cycling.

And so, I shall remain in the north for the remainder of the month. I will drive cars and hand bottles until the 20th, at which juncture I shall begin Tour of America's Dairyland and race my lizard heart out in pursuit of the young rider jersey.

I will be updating along the way! You all should remind/nag me to do this as well as I feel it is cathartic and probably a positive presence in my brain!

ON AND ON WE GO!!!!!!!!!!!

Love,

Lizard

LIZARD TAKES TULSA: A wounded lizard rides on!

Since I left you, dear readers much has happened. I became 22! I again catapulted through the air and collided with asphalt, happily accepted several free laps, and watched champions fall face first into the ground. I fill you in now:


SATURDAY, continued.

5:00: I took once again to the bike trail to reunite with teammates Amy and Laura post-napskies. It was time to register and consume a lot of red bull. We met up, kitted up, and rolled out. In the time between then and the starting whistle, I accomplished many things. Here is a brief list: 1) have a mechanic tell me that my pedal would in fact not kill me 2) pin numbers 3) squeal in giddy excitement 4) warm up. Warming up takes a long time so that makes the other things all the more impressive.

6:50: We watched the men's 3-4 race end with a yellow jersey-ed man snapping off the peloton at the last corner and taking a solo victory. I rolled up to the start line to find (to my surprise) A GAUDY THRONG OF LADIES. I mean, i was expecting fifty entrants at the most....but 75 started. It was going to be a shit fight. Pardon my language, but there are no synonyms for what was about to happen in the next hour. I was thrilled to see my Team Kenda Teammates, Beth, Lauren, Gwen, and Amity and the start line as well, because 1) they are cool awesome folks and 2) they are all good strong riders and I could follow them around the course without fear of death!

7:00: BADABING. The whistle sounded, as it always does, and we were moving. To my surprise, things were going well! The speed was up, but the course flowed smooth and fast, and the turns were wide open. The wind kept us moving quickly on most of the course, with only a small straight before the finish line really feeling gusty at all.

But suddenly, things were not going so well. We went through the start finish, ten minutes' time in our pockets. I must have been at least forty riders back and looked to move up through the second turn. I had taken the first turn wide, and not found myself pinned to the inside. Then--crash. In a split second I saw at least four riders down, tangled in bikes. My brain froze and I pulled hard on my brakes but it was too late, and I was going forward over the bars in a familiar arc. I smacked my head into the ground, cracking my helmet, and felt a shifter jam into my back. I leapt up and whirled around; Amy was there directly to my right.

"HURRY, LIZ." she said. I did not argue. She pedaled and I waddled, pushing my bicycle, over to the SRAM tent and we were quickly sent back into the race.
The riders droned by and we popped off after them. I connected about two turns later to the very back, feeling a tight pull through my back. I ignored this and tried to focus on pedaling. I WAS STELLA. I WOULD FIND MY GROOVE, DAMNIT.

And so, singing a little song, I followed the wheels and tried not to be last. The pack had thinned enormously, and I felt the danger of this. We crossed the line again at about thirty minutes--and again, riders fell, ON THE STRAIGHT, for no reason I could discern. I jammed on the brakes, ready this time, and whipped my foot down. I stopped the bike and then heard someone behind me going, "WOOOOAH." It was a girl, on a bicycle. Imagine! I held out my hand, and kept her up. We looked down and saw monster crusher Kimberly Wells curled into a ball at our feet. I did not think much on this; I merely carried my bike over her and ran back to Sram. They were becoming familiar with me, and waved me over. I shifted back into the big ring and launched off again.

More and more riders sloughed off the back and I was picking through them. I saw Laura and Vanessa just in front of me, not more than three riders separating us on each side. I felt a gleam of confidence! IF THEY WERE SO CLOSE, I WAS DOING GOOD!! I dangled dangerously in the worst possible position, feeling unable to move through really anywhere, lazily sitting last and hoping this would somehow serve me differently than it had in every race OF MY LIFE. Of course, it did not. A Primal rider took a turn hot and slid to the ground, maybe six riders ahead of me, and the rubberband snapped. There was a gap of maybe ten-to-twenty meters before me, and my legs burned. I gripped my bars hard and pedaled, but there was not enough juice in them. I looked at the clock as I went through: Forty minutes, thirty eight seconds. I had made it that far only to fail!

I rolled off the course to find Lauren and Beth, and we reveled one another with tales of our race-time miseries. I was interviewed for some sort of documentary, and then we rolled off to cool down a bit. I found Amy, and then we returned to the hotel to find Laura. Then, we all went downstairs to find food. Amy's delightful mother, Brenda, bought us dinner and then we went to ice bath. By now, i was finding it difficult to walk or rotate in any way, and so the cold was quite amenable to me.

11:00: I set off back to the Holiday inn express. I discovered that the bike path ran directly next to some sort of correctional facility and I pedaled faster in spite of the searing in my back. I got to my bed, watched some Arrested Development, and tried to sleep.

SATURDAY

9:00: I AWOKE, with pain and joy, to find myself an old spinster. 22! We race again at 6:00 pm. MORE LATER, MY READING ENTOURAGE.

Until then,

Crippled lizard