cycling = terrorism?

Yet another encounter with the fundamentally insane. Where do these fucking people come from? And how do they keep finding me?

Today was the Mississippi Bluffs road race (MBRR), a super low-key local race just above Rapids City. Set on rural roads with wide shoulders and rolling hills, the MBRR course is one that many of us train on regularly. The course was 25K (about 15 miles) and the small field was divided into two groups: Beginner men/women, and Cat. 1-4. There were less than 30 racers total. Absolutely chill and no big fucking deal. A good day.

I sat this one out, due to my inability to shake this cold and my recent travel to Oregon (more on that later). I headed out to the race to help (DICE was putting this on, after all) and ended up being a corner marshall in a snappy orange vest. It offset the tattoos well.

This is where the weirdness begins.

This race was short. The Beginner group did one lap, the other group did two. After the two groups came through the first time, a man who lives across the street rolled by slowly in his red, shiny, what-the-fuck-ever car. He pulled into his driveway, paused, drove up to his house, reconsidered, turned around and drove back to the end of his driveway- about 20 feet total. He then got out and stood there, staring at me. after a few minutes of these shenanigans, he decided to shuffle across the street towards me. I should also mention at this point that he was missing at least four visible teeth. Our conversation:

Lazy Toothless Fuck: "What is going on?"
Me: "Just a small bike race. I'm here to direct bikers and make sure everyone's safe."
LTF: "You should have a sign."
M: "Well, there are signs up the road this way and down that way. I'm marking this intersection."
LTF (with a small 'smile') : "So you're the sign, then?"
M (smiling back pleasantly) : "I guess so!"

With that, he mumbled something about safety and shuffled back across to the sedentary safety of his car, which he then pulled back up to his house. All in all, not that notable an incident. Until he came driving back 20 minutes later.

LTF: "I called 9-1-1, and they don't know anything about this."
M: "You called 9-1-1?"
LTF: "Yeah, they don't know anything about this."
M: "Well, 9-1-1 is emergency services so I can't imagine they would. But there is a county sheriff at the next interestion who knows about it. He's guarding the course."
LTF: "Where?"

At this point, I give the man detailed directions on how to find a T intersection. I'll spare the details.

All converstions with this guy entailed him saying something ridiculously negative and/or paranoid, and me responding in a pleasant, telemarketer fact-giving way. I will now give you the best parts of this conversation.

LTF: "Black Hawk?" (pointing to the license plate on my car) "Is that where you're out of?"
M: "I grew up there, but I live in the Quad Cities now."
LTF: "Well, I reported that plate to the police."
M (saccharine): "Of course you did."

But hands down, the best part of the conversation was this:

LTF: "I wasn't notified anything about this thing. I didn't even see anything about it on TV."
M: "No, we won't be televised. This is a pretty small event. Just a group of people getting together to ride our bikes."
LTF: "That sounds like terrorism to me."

I am happy to report that I did not laugh in his face, nor shove--or get otherwise violent with--this man. I simply responded (happily):

M: "Terrorism? Really? You think we're terrorists?"

I have to admit I was kind of psyched at this point. Fucking sweet--I've never been called a terrorist before! I don't think it was the reaction he was hoping for, as this man obviously feeds on negativity. It must suck to be him...

LTF: "Well, a group of people getting together and not telling anybody about it..."
M: "It's more like a family reunion."
LTF: "Then that definitely sounds like terrorism!"

Wow. It must really suck to be this guy.

M: "I'm sorry. If you have any concerns you can direct them to the race promoter. His name is Donnie Miller and he is over at Adventure Quest right now."
LTF: "Don't talk to me about Adventure Quest! It's a gimmick."
M: "Okay. Well, I'm a volunteer. We're using the parking lot over at Adventure Quest, and that's where you can direct concerns. Or feel free and head down to the T intersection and speak with the sheriff."

The rest of the conversation between myself and this particular fucking idiot was simply a banter of him giving me some form of criticism, and me sweetly responding with directions to either Donnie, the sheriff, or both.

I would've been pissed if it hadn't been so funny... and kind of sad.

I swear to God, these people love me--and I have no idea why. How do they keep finding me?

the river ate my city

Mother Nature is fucking pissed.

…but I would be, too.

There’s a solid theory that the planet has been here much longer than you or I, and that it will remain much longer after. And let’s admit it, we’ve been shitty patrons. I can see why she’s trying to take a shower. We’re a pretty nasty species.

So everyone apologize to your mama, and be nice to her: drive less, recycle, minimize breeding, love the people that are already bred, eat seasonal.

Why am I repeating this hippie rhetoric? Because you know you're proper fucked when you make the BBC news.

i know that i suck.

i truly have posts for the AR camp, Iowa City RR, Sylvan Island Stampede, Hawai'i, and the recent weather.

but i let my home internet service lapse while i was on the island.

it's back on now.

i'll be sure to post what i have.

this weekend.

girl scout's honor.

in the creep zone

last night i was supposed to complete a one-hour trail run.

i am totally sick of the trails around my apartment.

i thought i'd be clever and run out at the QCTri course. even more intelligent, i thought i could save a little gas and bike there. "it's not far," i thought. "i'll just take it easy."

i'm a fucking idiot.

there is no 'taking it easy' on west Locust Street. there are lots of cars, and they are driven by slack-jawed yokel fucks who hate cyclists. on the right is a gravel dropoff. on the left is a median with a curb. best to put it in the big ring and get the fuck out of there...

when i get to west lake, i am pretty fired up to be intact. until i realize what is going down.

apparently, West Lake in the springtime is where creepy fuckers go to hang out alone in their pickups. i am followed in to the park by one of these pukes, who stays behind me at 10mph... even when the road is clear for passing. there are two pickups with guys in the parking lot i want to head into, so i head for an empty lot. Slow Truck Guy follows me in.

i am obviously not going to be leaving my bike and running here. i can hear the news already: "unidentified woman decides to run alone at West Lake surrounded only by trees, water, and lonely men. details at 10." my imagination fills in the details with images picked up from various CSI and Law & Order scenarios.

Slow Truck Guy (STG) stares me down as he passes. i stare back and pull out my multi-tool, flipping oped the flathead screwdriver (the closest thing i have to a weapon). i then nonchalantly start digging at the cleat on the bottom of my shoe. STG pulls to the other side of the parking lot, gets out, takes off his jacket, puts it behind his seat, and gets back in. he then sits there for a minute before pulling out, just as slowly as he came in. maybe the douchebag just can't figure out how to get his truck out of first gear.

fuck. now i have to turn right back around and face Locust- just to get home and run those goddamned trails i have been avoiding all along!

...but you have to go with your gut. and i have no intention of having my limp ass pulled out of the lake.

a phone-lickin' good time

lindsay and i decided to have our DICE Women's training camp on Saturday.

of course this would be the day with 20 mph winds that gust up to 27 mph.

we went out in Iowa, did a Wisconsin/Telegraph Rd. loop, then braved the terrifying and glass-covered Centennial bridge in strong crosswinds to pass into Illinois. we continued out into the wind until we did a lollipop loop turnaround-and-back on Hubbard/Dennhardt Rds. we stopped at the Village RX (Hampton) for a little lunch. i had my phone for desert. we opted for the Arsenal bridge for our return Mighty Miss crossing, where we had to wait for the drawspan to close. the Arsenal bridge was just as horrifying as the Centennial, if not more so.

we were out for about 3 1/2 hours.

lessons: crushing headwinds do not make for an easy ride (i had forgotten this), do not put gel wrappers in the same jersey pocket as cell phone, i (heart) andrea's old TargeTraining jacket.

Jackson Hole rocks my socks

Feb. 27-Mar. 1: i headed off to Jackson Hole, WY for my cousin Megan's wedding. they put us all up at the Snow King resort, right at the base of the steepest (not tallest) ski run in the U.S. of A.

the wedding was a swingin' good time on Leap Day (February 29). hundreds of folks showed up(both the bride and groom are from Jackson, so a lot of the townies showed up), many rocking cowboy hats. Uncle Pete owns The Liquor Store. not much else needs to be said about that.

i got a chance to run about every day. one day i ran through town and stumbled upon Fitzgerald's Bicycles. Fitzgerald's is the type of shop you hope to find when you are out-of-town: the owner loves bikes and hangs out at the shop, the mechanics know what's up, Surlys in stock. i was worried at first- the shop didn't smell like a proper bike shop; it was pretty shiny in general. (for a moment i thought i had unwittingly stumbled into a trek store.) then i saw the Pugsley leaning against the counter, and i relaxed. i found out it was a brand-new location, so the shiny-ness will take care of itself in good time. they had a bunch of CompuTrainers, and the next day they set me up on a rental bike and off i went for an hour at altitude on a snowy day! i bought a t-shirt that says "Eat Food, Chop Wood, Ride Bike" on the front and has their logo on the back.

i also ran through the National Elk Refuge, which is home to around 3,000 head of elk. it really is something to see. i got a chance to snowboard at Teton Village. the smallest hill was 416'. i don't even know what the highest peak was.

i will be going back.