This win brought to you by Vaseline and denial

There's a fine line between satisfaction and complacency, optimism and denial, and when you're dealing with an ongoing deficiency of -reasons to be pissed off- you might not be able to distinguish one from the other. Case in point: I "won" the Nockamixon women’s 1/2 time trial. A more critical person might point out that there were only 3 people in my category, and that I was only the second fastest woman of the day, but at least the following goals were accomplished:

1. Beat my previous time

2. Practice TTing for upcoming stage races, and identify areas in need of work

3. Swim in Lake Nockamixon without getting caught by a park ranger

I pretty much smoked that list, beating the previous attempt on this course by 42 seconds.  It was great practice, and I now have plenty of things to work on, such as remembering to turn around at the cone instead of spacing out until the race marshals yell at me, and preemptively shoving an entire tube of Vaseline up my nose for the inevitable nosebleed when I get down in the aerobars (luckily no photos of this were taken).  So I’m in denial looking on the bright side and calling the day a success.  Now to do some left turn repeats for the next out-and-back time trial.

It turns out that skinsuits make very fast swimsuits

This podium brought to you by self-talk and my 28-cog

We recently established that I might be in need of a mental intervention, whether it be positive thinking techniques or just getting really pissed off.  And although many friends have generously stepped up to the plate and offered to fight me, I still arrived at Lost River Classic feeling frustratingly happy.

The big descent was wet and sketchy, so the group took it carefully.  It seemed dangerous and/or unethical to attack there, so I waited til we got to the bottom and took off on the flat with 4 women in tow.  The pace on the next climb was painful, and I told myself I would get dropped from the break.  Oh wait Wander, Murray said you can't think that way anymore.   I shifted into my 28 and thought about how much I love climbing. 

On the last lap, the moto told us we had 2 minutes on the field, but this seemingly great news put an end to our breakaway's camaraderie.  Responding to a minute-long attack reminded me of how scared I am of anaerobic intervals.  Stop it Wander.  I thought about a recent workout and tried to recall how it felt: Morning coffee. Ipod. The top of "Mount" Presidential coming into view (yes I do intervals on that little jawn).  Having attained enlightenment with about 1k to go, it then just came down to my legs.  Ainhoa destroyed the final kicker hill, winning by at least a bike length.  I've got a lot more work to do on the mental stuff (not to mention those anaerobic intervals), but second place and the first podium of the year is a step in the right direction.  Now if you'll excuse me I have to go light some scented candles and meditate...

Iron Hill: The Race of Truth

Most people describe time trialing as the "race of truth," since it's just you vs. the clock.  But this year it hasn't really come down to me vs. any clocks, but rather me vs. dropped chains, me vs. dislocated ribs, and after Parkesburg's lap counter blooper, apparently me vs. regularly descending integers. 

There were no excuses at Iron Hill.  The team had great race support, I didn't make any "stupid mistakes," and yet somehow everything I managed to do was stupid.  I got scared before the race even started; every time we'd move closer to the starting line I'd give up a wheel or two in fear of crashing at the whopping um...3 miles an hour we were doing.  Jenny kept her cool at the front.

A crash at the beginning scared me and I thought about quitting.  Apparently even the people involved were less scared, since they all got back in on the free lap.  I slowly slipped to the back (even though that's not necessarily safer) and hoped to compensate for it later.  This is a technique that used to work for me, but when it was time to move up I just yelled at the rider in front of me to hold her line (she was not actually in the way at all, but when you're that scared, everyone seems to be in the way), then threw up in my mouth and sat up.  Jenny sprinted for an awesome 11th place, and I yo-yoed at the back for 26th. 

Obviously training can improve some physiological issues, but the mental ones might be tricky.  I've been given instructions for meditation and self-talk.  A less conventional suggestion came from my friend Rick, who suggested I'm just not angry enough this year.  He used to yell "Hey Wander, unicorns aren't real," at the start of races, just to piss me off.  I usually did well.  Just to cover all bases, I'll take both approaches here: let the meditation begin, and BTW, if anyone would like to stage a fight in the parking lot before a race, I'm in.

Chesco Road Race

Yeah, OK this didn't go as planned...

This 4th of July we saluted the land of the free at the PA state road race.  The new course had a little climb coming into the finish but wasn't as selective as the old one.  I still managed to burn all my matches though...

Here's where match number 1 went: I attacked on one of the little kicker hills, got a small gap, and another rider caught on.  It looked promising, and we were about to bolt up another hill when I pulled a typical Wander and dropped my chain.  This is what happens when you try to do your own mechanical work, but hey, this is Amurica, and we're self-sufficient!  Speaking of self-sufficiency, a very eager moto driver came to help and kept getting in the way.  So I'm over here screaming at duder to let me fix it, and meanwhile he's trying to give me a push before I'm even on the bike.  I flailed around like an octopus while the pack slowly disappeared.  I thanked him for his very thorough servicing, then had to seriously put the hurt on to catch the group.  Goodbye match number 2. 

I caught on and recovered before we rolled into the feed zone at the start of the last lap.  Even though the race was short (the women's 123 seems to get shorter every year), it was hot.  Utterly terrified of feed zones, I slowed down to almost a stop and daintily took the bottle from soigneur Colby.  Unfortunately the deciding attack was made in the feed zone.  It was painful to catch the front group.  Match number 3. 

Four strong riders got a gap on the climb into the finish, and I rolled over the line like a slug, taking 5th place.  Not exactly mission accomplished, but hey, I did well, and all this bike racing is definitely helping me win the War on Insulin. 

Parkesburg Crit: Free Ponies to a Good Home

A quick preride got me very excited about the course's climbing.  After yesterday's frustrating race, I was ready to put the hurt on myself and/or other people, whichever came first.  The hurt came on quickly, as Team Pure Energy attacked from the gun.  The pace started to slow on the second lap so I attacked on the climb to keep the hurt coming.  This seemed like a great plan until Pure Energy's next rider attacked right when I was recovering.  Oh.  We never caught her, and we settled in to battle it out for second.  I felt good after recovering for a few laps.  Then with one to go, I did that thing that everyone does once: I thought it was the last lap and I had won the field sprint. Some riders came by a few seconds later, and I chuckled at how hard they were going on their recovery lap.  I rolled triumphantly all the way around the course before realizing I had screwed up.  Oh.  

So here's the thing: I'm really pissed at myself.  The kind of pissed that might be justifiable for mistakes that really matter, like health safety and welfare stuff.  And here I am pissed over a bike race.  There are people who don't have bikes to race, let alone cars to get to the race.  I fumed about it all the way home in my fancy car (fancy as in, it exists) and then threw all my ponies in the trash.  I will probably take them out in the morning when I realize there are people who don't have ponies to throw in the trash, but they're spending the night there dammit!  Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go pout like a big baby.

In related news, if anyone knows of a good home for a whole lot of toy equines including but not limited to ponies, horses, and unicorns, please contact me ASAP.