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