Race re-cap

The 2007 edition of El Tour de Tucson broke a record for attendance, both overall and at the 109 mile event. Over 5000 people (and their bikes) were at the start line. Our 14 person team rode a warm up ride on Friday that was filled with adrenaline and anxiety. It was a tense 14 miles. After Friday's ride I was worried about the mass start on Race day. Turned out my worries were for nothing. Everything on Saturday (for me anyway) was so smooth. Once we started rolling, we just kept rolling for 9 hours and 12 minutes (aprox). Seven hours and 12 minutes of that were wheels moving, an average pace of 15 mph. Two hours were spent total in breaks for food/water/restroom and 4 tire issues for Dale. Poor Dale.





Someone said to me on Friday, "you realize, Amy-Preacher, I don't even know your last name." Didn't bother me. I was happy to be part of the preacher/teacher duo. Amy-teacher was my roommate for the weekend, here we are in the hotel lobby just before walking to the start line. The sunflowers and wheat helped our coaches count team member helmets from behind and allowed us to share our Kansas Spirit with everyone we passed. Out of the 587 TNT riders at El Tour (from 40 different chapters), I can easily say we had a completely unique team ethic, team spirit and team pride. We rode together, stayed together, finished together. Goofy wheat-headed and all.



My other concern, pre-race, besides the mass start, was carrying my bike across the 2 dry river beds. This also turned out to be fine, a little dusty, but not excruciatingly hard. If you count the walking we did through sand, we actually traveled 111 miles on Saturday. That's my baby blue bike in center-front hoisted onto my shoulder.

Though at times, due to hills and traffic, our form broke apart a little, we rode well as a team. Not everyone had the easy day I did, but bodies are different, a few were recovering from illness and one never knows until race day how the body will perform. I am grateful to Travis for excellent coaching and a tough training plan. This is our team at the last turn, yards from the finish line (I'm third from the front on the near side). Just around the corner, we "took the road" and crossed the finish line four across, fists in the air, screaming. It was a rush.

All done! My medal now hangs on my office lampshade. A reminder of a wonderful day, a season of hard work, a great team, money raised toward a worthy cause and a meaningful tribute to my aunt Pat. I am so satisfied. Grateful, of course, for a healthy body, some stubbornness of spirit, and truckloads of support. Life is Good.

And we're back

Landed in Wichita this afternoon.

The Arizona trip was like a dream.

Like time outside of time.

All I could have wanted it to be.

The ride was fantastic. I am not even sure how I will explain it to you.

For tonight, a picture of the team at the finish line.

We rode as a team, finished as a team, accomplished our goal as a team.

What a feeling.

Tank ooo

My mother claims this was my first word.

Whether it was or not, it is what I want to say to all you faithful readers, supporters and contributors.

Thank you.

In the last few days I have been inundated with encouragement and support. And that feels wonderful. My church is super excited (they even gave me a horn and license plate for my bike in worship on Sunday). I have also gotten phone calls and e-mails and...well...lots of love. I love it! And I'm thankful for it.

We fly out tomorrow and I can think of little else.
I'll be unable (or otherwise occupied) to post for a few days, but pictures and story of "the big ride" will come sometime next week.

I trust you'll be reading ;)

Amy

Homestretch

I guess my TNT season is over. There is one more group ride, a 45 miler on Saturday, which I will miss because of a funeral. I will ride alone that afternoon. I will also ride this afternoon and Sunday afternoon and then put my bike on a semi-truck to be delivered in Tucson next week. I am already dreading that moment. Not having the bike in the garage will be a little like not having the dog in the house for the night….something just ain’t right…

Let's take a moment to review. It's been fifteen weeks of riding and over 1500 miles.

My favorite cycling food:
Peanut butter and graham cracker sandwiches. Sweet, crunchy and full of the power needed to pedal on.

Least favorite food:
Berries and Cream Power Bar. Yuck.


Favorite article of cycling clothing:
My headband. I bought it on a whim at REI in Portland (mine’s blue, matches the bike). It keeps sweat out of my face, which is great. But I love it because when I put in on I feel like I am about to walk on the set of a music video for Olivia Newton John. “Let’s get physical, physical…”



Favorite Wichita Area ride:
Thunder Road. Yes it’s fun to say, but also to ride. Great road, great trees, some good hills, little traffic.


Biggest surprise of the season:
The power of the team. I’m kind of an independent girl but I would not want to be doing this alone. (And along with that the power of my personal team to raise $4,000. That’s humbling.)



Scariest moment:
Chin meets pavement. I did wonder if I was going to get up from that crash with all my teeth.

Favorite moment:
This is yet to come, I suspect it will be the finish line. In the last two weeks we’ve practiced a move called “take the road” so we can cross the line four cyclists abreast. I’m smiling just thinking about it.

Biggest gratitude:
The opportunity to recognize as an adult a loss I suffered as a child. The bike riding has been fun but what means more to me is connecting with my family around the death of my aunt in a way I couldn't at five years old.

This is a page out of the guest book at my aunt Pat's funeral. I don't remember that day at all. I vaguely remember being horrified at the funeral home when we went for family viewing to look at her body.


I don't remember much of anything about my aunt at all. I know she loved chocolate chip cookies and breakfast at Denny's. I know she taught school and lived alone. I know she loved me and in my five year old way, I loved her too.

I can see that it was important for me to sign my own name at her funeral. My brother did too but his eight year old handwriting is much better than my kindgergarten script.

So on the 17th I will ride remembering Patricia Jane and her life that ended too soon. I will remember her life that ended in great pain, physical as well as emotional. It was impossible for my grandparents to know how to watch their oldest child die.

I will remember her because even though she is 25 years gone, I know she has a place in our family. She has effected who I am, who my parents are, how I interact with the world. I intend to honor that for at least 109 miles.

still riding

The Big Ride is 11 days away.

Good thing because it is getting a little tricky with church business, cold temperatures and the ever-earlier setting sun to get my rides in.

Today I hit a car.
It didn't hit me, I hit it.

And no, it wasn't parked.
(This is where my mother says, "oh, Amy.")

It pulled out from alongside a concrete wall as I was headed down a sidewalk/bike path. By the time I saw it there was no stopping. I squeezed my brakes, yelled and turned my wheel sideways so that I actually hit the car with my left thigh and slid down the side to the ground.

Laying on the ground, I half expected the car to pull away. But he didn't. He came out to see if I was okay. I was and so was my bike, amazingly. His car? Well...I left a nice dent in the side panel of that little Honda Accord, just below the passenger window. How awful it must have sounded inside.

The high amount of spandex necessitated by the 50 degree temperature prevented the spilling of any blood. I anticipate a car door sized bruise on my thigh by morning.

But really, I'm fine. I rode home. I took a shower. I came back to work.

I'm feeling a bit guilty about hitting him. I don't know if it was my fault or his. Probably a little of both. I do know it's going to cost him to fix the car. But I suppose less than if I had been 2 seconds earlier and he had hit me instead of the other way around.

One of my teammates, Lori, was hit by a car last weekend in Dallas. The car was stopped behind her at a light when the driver took his foot off the brake while reaching for his cell phone. He ran right into the back of her. She has 17 stitches in her ankle. In Car vs Bike, Car usually wins.

On to other news, our Saturday rides have been going well, the long distances have been enjoyable. It's amazing how the day can slip away between tires and pavement. I think I like the simplicity of it. I get up in the morning and the only thing to accomplish in the day is the ride. Two weeks ago I snapped a few photos of the team in action.

Our paceline, I'm the second rider from the front. Usually we are in two lines taking up our own lane of traffic. This was a moment on a busy two lane road so we were single file. Dale is in front. For the record I can beat him anytime I want to. Yes I can, Dale.

Dale and Coach Travis (to the left) sporting his official TNT jersey. I will have earned my own in just a few more days.

Pit stops are crucial to the long rides. Refilling and emptying water. Travis has rarely found a convenience store with more than one woman's toilet. We have 10 women on the team. He needs to work on this.

bicycle chronicles

It’s no wonder I love riding a bicycle. As a toddler I spent hours in a plastic carrier mounted over a parent’s back wheel. Do they even make those any more? Most kids now are towed around in the covered two-wheeled trailers. Though much less safe, I have to think it was better to be inches from my father’s back, to see him and hear him as he pedaled me through the evening.

This is a picture of my first real bicycle, a pink banana-seat Schwinn. It seems funny to me now, I don’t remember learning to ride without training wheels. Was it on this bike? Or was this the reward for gaining balance and confidence? No Lippoldt can say for sure. Soon after the picture, tassels and a bell were added. I had to flutter and ring as I rode.

Chad also had a banana-seat Schwinn, navy blue and silver. We spent hours riding those bikes up and down the street. Hours more following our parents around the neighborhood on summer evenings. And we “fixed” them constantly, turning them over in the driveway or back patio to play bike mechanic. We were fascinated with watching the pedals move the chain move the wheels.

In fourth grade I made a monumental decision. I was allowed (perhaps for the first time) to withdraw money from my precious savings account so I could partially fund the purchase of a 10-speed Schwinn. Red this time. Gears and hand brakes were a revolution.

Weeks later we moved to a new house, new block, new kids. I was too shy to start a conversation but kept riding my bike around the cul-de-sac. Freed from pedal brakes I loved to spin my feet around backwards. It was a sight that stunned the other kids on my street and had them asking me questions. Thanks, bike, for making the introductions.

I took the red Schwinn to college instead of a car. It sat chained up outside McElvaney Hall on the sidewalk right in front of the new Mercedes Benz’ some of my classmates drove. I rode it in Highland Park when I needed freedom from campus. I was never brave enough to risk riding in Dallas traffic for errands.

By the end of my junior year I had motorized transport and the Schwinn had returned to the parents' garage. That summer I worked in Denver and upgraded to a Specialized HardRock Mountain Bike, silver, because it was on sale. Gears on the handle bars now, I changed to any of 24 with the turn of a dial. Unfortunately I didn’t know any real mountain bikers in Denver (how is that possible?) so I stuck to bike paths and streets.

After graduation the Specialized went with me to Minnesota, the city of a million bike paths. I can still picture every mile of the rails-to-trails path that followed the Mississippi River just 6 blocks from my house. It was on that trail that we learned I was built for slow-steady endurance and Rush for quick, intense sprints. To the end of the trail and home, a perfect hour ride.

My first year of seminary in Atlanta the Specialized took me to work and school. Waking at 5am the bike made it easy to arrive at Starbucks for my opening shift, especially since the 7 minute ride from Turner Village was 100% downhill. Going home wasn’t quite as much fun.

In year two and three at Candler the insanely steep hill on Dyson Drive convinced me walking to class was a better idea than riding. I found other places to take the bike, like the fabulous rails-to-trails path on the west side of the city. I wish I had explored Georgia biking more.

Becoming a pastor, in Hutchinson, I began to run. The bike was used less but not completely neglected. Ella and I rode frequently as she started training for her first triathlon. A few crazy days we played tennis, rode the entire length of the Jim Martinez trail and then ran a mile just to see what it felt like. It hurt.

I expected to move in the summer of 2006. I asked to. I was told to stay. For my faithfulness to the vows of itineracy (or non-itineracy) I bought myself a present. The Giant OCR-3, beautiful baby blue. Now gears changed with a flick of the thumb. I obsessed over the extravagance. That was easier than dealing with the anxiety of staying in Hutchinson. But who needs a $700 bike? Turns out I did. Hours of exploring Reno county roads that summer made all the difference.

Six months later, moving to Wichita gave me the chance to train with other cyclists for my first century (100 mile) ride. In preparation I have spent more on accessories than on several of those other bikes. I know the blue Giant is a limited machine. I will upgrade again. I will probably downgrade too, to fewer gears, a slower ride. My love affair with cycling isn’t even at the half-way point. I’d like to ride for 50 more years. I still want to be thrilled and soothed by the sound of the wheels and the wind on my face when I turn 80.


If my story thus far is any indication, I'll always need the bike. Just like I need the dog and I need the friends, and I need the scriptures. It's the rhythm of my life, the way I move through this world.

Burrrrr

My mother once worked with a crazy woman, well actually she has worked with more than one. I was thinking about this particular woman today remembering that she had invented her own fall holiday, "Burrrrrr"

She had a "Burrrrr" tree in her house.

She would by "Burrrrr" gifts.

She would walk around when the air turned cold saying, "Burrrrrr" Isn't it wonderful?


Terri, its time to celebrate.


This morning it was 43 degrees as I rode out of my driveway. Burrrrr!

Luckily I had already purchased my own "burrrr" gifts, arm and leg warmers which arrived last week.

This does mean I am outfitted in polyester and spandex from head to toe, not a dream I ever held for myself. But I do stay warm and that is what really matters.

It also means I look like a real cyclist. No bulky sweatshirts for me. Only real cycling clothing. All of you who know me realize I am no slave to style. The big advantage to the "technical fabrics" is sweat transportation. I can actually sweat in the arm and leg warmers and not be soaked, soppy in my clothing. People used to have to wear wool for such an advantage. Thank goodness for modern chemistry.

The style points were helpful, however, on Saturday as we rode into the middle of a parade. Maize was having its "fall days" (yet another made-up holiday) and we were trying to cut through town as the parade was ending. I really wanted to be a part of the parade. I thought we looked rather good, 12 cyclists decked out in cold weather gear, riding in two tight lines. Of course we were without our official TNT jerseys and we had no candy to throw to the crowd.

We weren't officially a part of the parade but we did follow the very end for a few blocks before it turned. I was in the front of our pack waving happily to the dispersing crowds setting the course for navigating around horse droppings, doing important things like that.

Saturday we rode 75 miles. A new personal best for me. 5 hours in the saddle seems arduous to think about but when I am out with the team, I don't notice the time. Like being engrossed in a great book. Only with more sweat. And spandex.

Tucson is so close I can hardly stand it. Gives me chills to think about toeing up to that starting line. Burrrr!

Strong Finish

Last night I received an e-mail with the last segment of our "training-plan" toward Tucson. Only five more weeks of rides to complete before the big century.

I also realized I need to ask someone to fill in for me on Sunday, Nov 18th. They would probably like a few weeks notice, don't you think?

Because the Sundays I skip are few and far between, and only for the very best of reasons, I missed out on the big team ride this week. Sunday was Octoginta in Lawrence, an 80 mile ride with 800 some cyclists. Amy-teacher was smart enough to take a camera to the ride and has posted a little slide-show on you-tube. View it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkgQvvBReQs
See how smiley they all are? It must indeed have been a beautiful day.

Travis was nice enough to hold a "warm-up" ride on Saturday of 30 miles, to which I added another 20 solo to make for a decent long day this week. The only other person to show up on Saturday morning was Ed. I guess everyone else was excited about the chance to sleep in. I enjoyed riding around Wichita as a threesome, a different experience than the 12 to 15 we normally have.

During the ride I asked Travis about the rumor I heard that some TNT chapters only work up to a long ride of 60 miles prior to the century event, "do they make it to the end?" I wondered.
"Yea, they make it," he said,"but then they are dead for the rest of the day."
"You'll go rest for two hours and then want to come to the victory party."

So this month is not just about finishing the ride, I already believe I can do that. We rode 66 miles out to Lake Afton and back about two weeks ago. It was crazy windy and much of the team had bonked by mile 55. I was amazed, I could have gone longer. I am now confident I can make the 109 mile distance.

But this month's rides of 75, 80, 85 and 90 miles are about preparing to finish strong. Finishing and not hating every minute of the last 30 miles. Finishing and being ready to celebrate. Finishing and being thankful for the experience.

But before we get there I still need to ride today. And tomorrow. And...

Blown

It is windy in Kansas.

That's the sum total of my reflections for the week.
At least a week and a half of wind more than 20 mph.

Windy makes me whiny.
But I've been riding. Oh, I have been riding.
Squished around every other part of my life. I have been riding.
Bent down into headwinds, I have been riding.
White knuckled steering through crosswinds, I have been riding.
A few brief and glorious wind-pushed moments, I have been riding.

And on that glorious day when it is cool and calm,
I will sail on legs made strong from pushing against the wind.
Yes I will.

protein power

I've had a few issues regulating my blood sugar this week.
Not in a diabetic kind of way.

Instead between meals it has dipped too low resulting in one beautiful episode of "I'm going to lay on the floor, bring me peanut butter." It happened at a conference meeting with 30 of my colleagues. Already the story has spread among Methodist clergy throughout the state of Kansas. Next to Sunday's crash, it has not been the healthiest of weeks.

Today I went to the doctor. For my co-pay I received the sage advice, "eat more protein."
I was hoping at least to have my stitches removed but it seems I forgot to make a specific "stitch-removal" appointment so the nurse wouldn't even consider it. Obviously the genius of our insurance system at work. Little do they know I have another option. Can we say "living-room clinic?"

I am entering two monster months of cycling, 60 miles tomorrow and we go up from there. Protein for muscle repair and building will be as important as ever.

As an almost vegetarian (technically a pescetarian) I can get a little sloppy on finding quality sources of protein. My doctor's parting sentence to me this morning was, "Tofu, good." He's an articulate one.

This afternoon I went "protein shopping" at Dillons. I read the label of every item I put into my canvas bag searching for the best possible combination of high protein and appetizing. I arrived at home with boca burgers, fish fillets, soy nuts, Kashi Go-Lean Crunch (thanks Bergy) and some fancy protein shakes that are more at home in a GNC store than my cupboard. I feel funny (funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha) about resorting to such processed elite-performance products. But I am willing to try most anything to keep the blood sugar regulated, and myself upright. Well almost anything. I don't want to eat a hamburger.

whap

sunny sunday
a pleasure to ride
cornering with grace the goal
team follows like a wave

innocuous puddle of water
slightly tilted bike
loss of traction
hello pavement

no one ran over me
an moment of biking ballet

pavement, meet hands
and chin
and teeth

bounced onto my back
blood on the jersey
testimony to pain

three stitches required
teammate's house turned clinic
thanks for marrying a doctor

invincibility is a dangerous disease
i am cured

T-E-A-M

Whenever I am not in my big-girl work clothes, I wear a bracelet on my arm for TNT. It is a purple version of the yellow silicone bracelet made popular by Lance Armstrong's "livestrong" campaign. I appreciate the constant reminder of my commitment to TNT, it actually encourages me to have that little purple thing slung around my wrist.

TNT works hard to make sure its participants are motivated and feel ownership in the program. This is good. What makes me hang my head is any talk of heroism or high sense of pride we should feel. It's been said, "We're out here saving lives." Actually we are just biking. The saving lives comes from the work of others enabled by the money I helped raise. Pride doesn't feel quite appropriate.
That's what I appreciate about the bracelet. It captures why I am enjoying my TNT experience with four words that are inscribed in the silicone.

Train
Endure
Achieve
Matter


It makes a nice little mantra for me and helps to capture what I want to accomplish with this experience.


Train
Endure
Achieve
Matter


Saturday was all about the E.


We drove to Topeka for the Bruce Whaley Spirit Ride, an event in honor of a man who died in his mid-thirties of Leukemia. It was important for TNT to be well represented since we share the same cause as the event.


Kansas is toying with fall, today it is near 90 degrees and windy. But Saturday was 45 degrees, cloudy and raining. I can easily say these were the worst conditions in which I have ever biked. The morning started cold (as in teeth-chattering) and wet. Which led to numbness combined with sleepiness from the 4:30am wake up and frustration because we had 4 flat tires in the first 10 miles. It was a true test for our team spirit. I would give us a B- At one point Travis made us recite our team cheers, I believe because he was tired of hearing us complain.


By 1pm we had finished all 50 miles of the ride including "Puke Hill" (a beast to climb up but fun as hell to ride down). We were mostly dry, closer to warm and already carefully crafting the story of the day to wow the friends and teammates who were not there. I was glad to be done and I suppose glad to have endured. I want that "E" to mean something after all.

dressed to impress

Chad got me a new helmet for my birthday.

Well actually he purchased a gift certificate so I could go and purchase the correct size helmet for my, as it turns out, rather large head. I don't know what to think about the fact that my head is too big for the "women's specific design" helmet.

Amy Berg has been telling me for years "face it bud, your head is just too damn big." But I think this must be another instance of product engineers trying to put women into a box, or in this case small-headed helmets.

All the women's specific helmets are also pretty colors...pastel with flowers or butterflies stenciled in.

My helmet is black.

The salesmen did tell me many people purchased the black helmet because they think it makes their heads look smaller.


What do you think?

YOGOWUPI

Last Wednesday Travis promised a "memorable route" in his e-mail. He also included a special task at the bottom of the message to see if we were actually reading all the way through his weekly missive.

When we arrived on Saturday morning he reported that all the "newbies" and a few alumni had completed the task but he was feeling generous and wanted to give the special prize to everyone. I understand team spirit but what is the point of calling it a "special prize" if everyone is getting one?

He then handed out water bottles that have a TNT logo on one side and his hand written encouragement on the other. YOGOWUPI it says. "You only get out what you put in."

Do you think that's true? I wonder if sometimes I put in a lot more than I get out.
I think that's called service.

And other times I get out a whole lot without putting anything in.
That's called grace.

But here I am trying to make coach-lingo fit with Christian theology. I should stop that.

Saturday's 50 mile ride was supposed to be memorable for the scenery, we rode home on legendary "Thunder Road." Which I, of course, insisted on repeating with all the deep, gravelly, resonance I could muster. We're on Thunnnnnnder Road.

It was pretty but more than that it was hilly. Travis turned us loose from the formed paceline to attack the long series of hills (which he euphemistically called "bumps") at our own pace. As we charged up the first few I made it to the front of the pack until pretty soon it was only me and the other Amy leading each attack.

Someone clever in the group has dubbed us "Amy-teacher" (she spends her day in 7th grade biology) and "Amy-preacher."

Amy-teacher kicked my butt up each and every hill. Then she slowed down on the descent so I could catch up, enabling her to kick my butt up the next hill. Honestly, it was a great way to spend the morning.

It also showed me that biking can hurt. A lot. Legs burning, burning, burning, in a way I have rarely accomplished in running. Of course when you run up a hill you still have to run down which can be just as painful on knees and quads. But bike up? You are rewarded with a pedal-free descent.

I remember once reading about pro-cycling and seeing a quote saying what makes a truly great cyclist is his or her ability to suffer. I would like to think that rides like Saturday make me better at suffering on the bike and therefore a better cyclist. Of course our suffering, up even the biggest hill, is so short lived. It's nothing compared to laying in bed with cancer unsure if or when the pain will stop. This is TNT, we are doing this for cancer-patients, after all.

I suppose that's my problem. "You only get out what you put in" makes it seem like life is some how fair. And you and I know it's not. I could make some comment here about taking each hill as it comes, but that seems glib. Travis, I don't know if you read this but I mean no disrespect. I'm just thinking these things through. I'll still use the water bottle.

Peanuts

Amy Rush and I went to the Braves game today. They won. This has absolutely nothing to do with riding my bicycle but it was such a picture perfect Atlanta afternoon, I wanted to share it with you.

make a wish

Last Saturday was my birthday. 31, thank you very much.

My mother made me an elmo cake.

Yes she did.
I made some wise-crack the other day about her making me a big-bird cake like when I was 6 and when I showed up at the parental home on Sunday night, Elmo awaited me.

My mother is a good cake baker! Mummm chocolate, my brother did an outstanding Elmo impression (who knew Chad watched Sesame Street) and I marveled at Liz's ability to work with frosting.

All that celebrating reminded me of another picture, another cake, another birthday. This is a shot of my Aunt Pat's birthday in 1976. That's my guess, anyway, because I think the candles on the cake represent 32. (three and two, Grandma must have been trying to save money).

After this there would be a few more birthdays. She died at 37.

Chad (mr. two-year-old next to Pat in the photo) is turning 34 next week. There are different echoes of loss as he and I come closer to mirroring the age of Ken and Pat's parting. I see my parent's loss more clearly, I suppose, and empathise with them anew.

So my birthday wish: To treasure what's here. My parents and brother eating elmo cake. Birthday cheesecake in Oregon and some other treat with friends in Atlanta. Having the congregation sing Happy Birthday to me in worship and riding my bicycle 4o miles on the morning I mark 31 years in the world. Pretty great gifts, if you ask me.

40 miles

Saturday 12:30 a.m: Land at Wichita Mid-Continent Airport after 12 hour trip from Portland International Airport. (see previous post re: grichiness about flying)

12:50 a.m: Reunite with dog. That's always a good moment, isn't it?

1:03 a.m: Discover shampoo has leaked in my bag. Massive clean-up effort required before sleep.

1:57 a.m: Finally wind down enough to fall asleep.

6:15 a.m: Alarm rings beginning preparations for the day's group ride.

7:12 a.m: Wheels rolling. Weird weather, foggy and 70 degrees. Mist continually condensing on my glasses leaving me to wonder if a rag or rain-x or tiny windshield wipers would be the best solution.

8:11 a.m: Joe, who is riding behind me, tells me that green goop is coming from my back end. (nice visual). Upon inspection I see that the "slime" in my slime-tube (to instantly fix flats) has some how sprayed all over my bike, my leg, my shoe and Joe. Sorry Joe!

8:14 a.m: Unable to find source of slime leak. Continue ride from back of the pack to spare anyone else the green spray.

8:50 a.m: Riding on a country road NE of Wichita. Small jack-russell terrier darts from farm house into the MIDDLE of our pack. Dog hit by one or more bicycles. Two riders crash. One seriously scraped. Dog runs away still barking, apparently unharmed. Being at the back of the pack I escape the crash but have to watch it happen. Not pretty.

9:05 a.m: More slime erupts from my rear tire, this time spraying Lori in the face. Sorry Lori!
I slink back to the rear position.

9:08 a.m: Stop at Kwik Shop. Travis changes my rear tube. Small thorn found in the tube, source of the escaped slime. I decide the manufacturer should put warning on the box. True, my tire did not go flat. But I slimed my teammates!

9:18 a.m: Dale declares I will now be known as "slime girl." I declare I will never buy slime tubes again.

10:12 a.m: 40 miles finished. How did I do that on 4 hours sleep? Exercise induced endorphin high leaves me unconcerned. Another good day.

Vacation

I wish I had some amazing pictures to show you from my vacation to the great Northwest. But I don't.

Seems the Bergies camera has taken to eating batteries. And of course I am such a cheapy that I don't own a digital camera. Or a microwave. Or cable. Not that those last two would have helped with the pictures.



So the only shot I have is of my first outing on a wave-runner. It's posed, when I was on the water I was actually wearing a PFD. Saftey first, after all. No matter what Miss Brodie says. Good thing since I almost slung myself off of it a few times. I liked it but it was not the most fun of the vacation. I definitely prefer non-motorized recreation. The rock-climbing and hiking and mountain biking were much more fun, but alas, undocumented.


Newsflash: it sucks to fly. Don't plan on getting anywhere on time. I saw (and experienced) people having delays and cancellations and missed connections all over the place. Disheartening to me when the ticket was so pricey in the first place. But of course it was worth it to be with my Bergs and be in Oregon and be gone from work and remember that there are lots of parts of me that have nothing to do with sitting in my office chair or typing on my computer.


Vacation time makes me feel like a real human being again. Or a whole human being again. I don't know what that says about my routine at work or home except that it is filled with pressure. It is easier to feel whole when you have room to breathe.

Wake up!

I'm groggy.

That's not unusual for Monday morning but this is body tired not just emotions tired. My first clue was that I sounded like a bass until about eleven o'clock this morning. That plus lots of stretching required to get unkinked from sleep and a few yawns show me that we are definitely in training mode. Most of you know that I don't get up easily, ever, but after 9.5 hours asleep I sort of expected to start the day a little fresher. Must have had something to do with 15 miles last night after a typical Sunday morning. Per my training schedule, Sunday "recovery rides" seem important to the process of building endurance. I suppose Monday sleepiness will be a part of the next three months.

As will eating. This weekend I noticed I have become ravenous again. I have experienced this in the past but usually not until the last few weeks before an endurance event. I am a full three months away from the century ride and already this weekend I approached each meal with a voraciousness that would make the casual observer think I hadn't eaten for days. I did ride 77 miles last week and ran one day. But we've got a long way to go. What will I feel like when that weekly mileage doubles? I guess we'll see.

The group ride this weekend was great fun. Another of Coach Travis' routines at some point during the morning is to go down the line and ask everyone by name how they are doing and then answer his own question with a little ditty that includes "there's no where else I'd rather be than right here right now!" As I heard him yelling that out on Saturday I reluctantly had to agree.

The second time out with the group was less stressful and less confusing. Two brand new riders this week means we are up to 19 riders for Tucson. Even in a double paceline we are at least as long as a city bus. I'm not sure we are much slower either, who likes to drive behind a bus?

Two important learnings from the ride...

Lori has x-ray vision. She is always the first to see any debris, gravel, hole, in the road and shout it out to the rest of the team. It doesn't even matter where she is in the line, she sees it first. So riding behind Lori will be a very safe position, if a little loud.

Paula is the sugar shack of our train. We were talking before the ride and found a mutual fondness for knowing when we can next eat. She called it a "food-phobia" but I think she is just well prepared. I told her I occasionally have issues with low blood-sugar and so I like to always have food handy. Really I just need to have Paula handy because she starts every ride well stocked. Mid-ride we had to pull over to check a tire and she came up to me with some "sport beans." Think Jelly Bean made from Gatorade. They were GOOD! I only ate four but felt like I could fly on the next miles. I do realize it was all in my head.

Oh, one update. Seems the crash last week was a little more serious than anyone thought. Heidi fractured her radius (in case you forgot the lessons of tenth grade biology that's one of the two bones in your arm). So Dale's statement about no broken bones in TNT is now out the window. I feel badly for Heidi but crashes are part of living. We fall. We break. We heal. And now our whole team pays a lot more attention to the people in front of them. That's good.

I will miss next week's ride to be in Oregon on vacation. Hopefully I'll be able to post pics from Amy's Annual Adventure 2007.

TNT FAQ

First group ride today…many questions were answered.

Q: What time will we start?
A: Six @$#% Thirty in the morning. Luckily as temps cool and the sun rises later, so will we.

Q: What will a paceline feel like?
A: Odd…at least at first, to get so close to other bikers going 15mph or more. I know it will get easier with more miles. Loud…lots of yelling out commands, “hole, slowing, take the lane, going, one line, debris on right, car back” With 6 adrenaline pumped alumni and 5 nervous rookies it was loud and confusing at first, people yelling at every tiny thing. Challenging…It took concentration! To not run into the person in frontof me, at least. I am sure it will soon become an intuitive way to ride.

Q: Will we crash?
A: Yep. Some poor clip management at a stoplight led to our first crash of the season just 10 miles into group training. It happened in the middle of Douglas and involved our “guest rider” whose 3 yr old son is a Leukemia survivor (she rode for TNT a year ago). Only two people went down, none really hurt. I was told no one has broken a bone in a TNT crash, not in recent memory, at least. I said the paceline took concentration!

Q: How will the team dynamic be?
A: Good. Very good actually. Quality people with very different personalities. It was a fun day of first impressions. There are so many alumni (riders with at least one TNT century to their credit) it feels like us newbies will just be carried along.

Q: What will it mean to have a coach?
A: A pre-ride pep talk and a team cheer. Yep, a team cheer. I am not really a “cheer” kind of girl. You can imagine the suppressed smirk on my face the first time it happened. Of course as the pep-talk and testimonies got going before the ride I kept thinking what we needed to do was pray. Whoops! Guess who's been ensconced in church a little too long! Don’t worry, I was yelling away by the end of the morning.

Q: Is that all Coach Travis does?
A: Lord, no. He is organized and confident and in control of the ride. He’s a good teacher, passionate about TNT, and can yell really loud. Today he was constantly moving up and down the line checking in, giving instructions and encouragement. A great comfort to me, already.

Q: Is it possible to get “runners trots” on the bike?
A: Yep. This is an affliction that often affected my sensitive stomach after long runs. I always contributed it in part to poor hydration, and I think that was a factor today. Even though we started early it was humid and hot. I was concentrating more on not crashing than on drinking water. I’ll have to work on that.

Q: What will be the worst part?
A: Waiting a whole week before we do it again :)

In process

August 1st. Two months since I mailed out my fundraising letters and I have received $2120 in contributions to Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. WOW.

Thank you.

If you would still like to contribute, there is plenty of time. I would like to have the money raised by September 15th so I can focus in on training. That is 2 days before my "recommitment" date (as if I were wavering at this point!)

I took my bike in for a maintenance check this morning. Thought a once over after the wreck would be a good idea. And a clean chain and drive train would be a nice way to start the official training process.

Coach Travis sent out the first training schedule last Wednesday so here is when it gets serious. Up until this point I have been riding as I want, when I want. Now I have a piece of paper with goals for the day and the week.

A schedule. A plan. A process.

Some might chafe under such restrictions. But not me. I thrive. I love the organization, the structure, the satisfaction of watching the days tick by, the progress made, the strength gained. I love that the 100 mile week scheduled for 9/1 looks daunting to me now and by the end of this process it will seem laughably easy. Oheee. I am excited!

Our first group ride is this Saturday. Stay tuned for a report. Travis put as a header on his e-mail "Why does cycling matter...because when you are riding, nothing else does."

Is that true? I think I want to rephrase it because rather than forget about the rest of my life when I bike I enjoy having space to think and reflect and gain perspective on work or relationships or whatever. I don't' have the right re-wording yet. Perhaps it will come to me on tonight's ride.

Crashing

In between working, I've been closely following all the action of Le Tour de France over the last two weeks (I missed week one by being in New Mexico) via the live commentary on the web. As of today Alberto Contador (of team Discovery Channel) is in yellow. For the non-cyclist reader: that means he's winning. I am among the fans who cheered every day this week as another doper was caught and dismissed from the race. I like my sports clean (long live the triumph of Hammerin' Hank).

Along with crazy speeds and impossible climbs, crashes are a consistent part of each day of the Tour. Just about half an hour ago the four stage leaders who had "escaped" from the peloton ran into a stray dog. I mean RAN INTO the dog. Two cyclists crashed and needed medical attention along with new bicycles. World-class athletes having to cope with house pets on the loose. Now that's some quirkiness I can appreciate. Both riders are still competing in the stage, by the way. No word on the dog's condition.

I am no world class rider (this is notsospeedy you are reading, remember) but I did experience my first crash of "the big ride" yesterday in Sedgwick Co. Park.

I ran into a kid.

For the record it was 100% his fault. A fact of which he was well aware after my lecture in English and his mother's in Spanish. Bilingually he was told that riders approaching each other stay on the right side of the road. Each to her right and no one gets hurt. He keep veering left, I kept veering right, it was one of those awful moments of miscommunication where eventually all you can do is run into each other.

Before you go thinking I still bear responsibility considering I am the adult, on a better machine and a more experienced rider, please know that this was a 12 year old boy on a bmx bike who, it appeared, weighs more than I do. If he had been a six-year-old I would have all but stopped as we approached one another. That way I could have adjusted to whatever course he decided to take. But he was almost a teenager, I assumed he knew what to do. He didn't and we crashed head-on.

Thankfully neither we nor our bicycles were hurt. I don't even remember seeing blood. As a crash then, it was less than spectacular. Except for the fact that I hit a kid. And that once he got over being shocked he was traumatized enough to cry. I think he'll remember to keep to the right next time.

I am thankful that the mother helped remove all the burrs from my clothing (especially my bike shorts! Yikes). I wasn't even stiff this morning so I grabbed another quick 10 miles while it was 69 degrees--what a treat for July. It really does pay to get up early (grumble, grumble). And less teenagers on the path at 8am.

I just read that Sandy Casar (involved in the dog crash) was voted the "most aggressive rider" of stage 18 of the Tour. He's got a big wound on his right hip and had to see the race doctor for some pain in his shoulder mid-race. That's a sympathy vote if I've ever seen one. Oh! He just won the stage! What a crazy sport.

we are family

Miss me?
I took last week off from cycling to be on a volunteer work team with the church. Instead of miles on the bike or treadmill my exercise was shoveling dirt, picking apricots, walking all over the McCurdy campus, picking up trash and a few excellent hikes in Northern New Mexico. I did manage to run three out of seven mornings so it wasn’t a total cardio loss.

When I got home late Sunday night I thought I would jump right back into training where I had left off. Wrong. Really wrong. Instead in the days I have been home I have stuggled to do much of anything at all. One brief run. One brief ride. And now it's Friday.

I suppose it was the eight solid days of people and work (let’s be honest, I was with church members) that has left me feeling only like curling up at home when I break free from the office each day. This Friday morning I thought I’d celebrate a day away from church by jumping out of bed at 6:45 and hoping on the bike for a long ride. Instead it's 11:15 and all I’ve accomplished is eating a bagel. Oh the bagel was good, but still.

Okay enough whining. This is for fun anyway right? My body will rest and I will feel like riding and running and all that again. I know a slacker week is just that, a week. Next week will be different.

Besides the best moment of the week re: the big ride didn’t come from training at all. Tuesday I received in the mail a donation from Mary Lou and Larry Grove (thank you!) and a handwritten note reminding me of the more significant part of this enterprise.

(side note: Thanks to all those who have donated. I am now half-way done with the fundraising! Whoo hoo! I appreciate your support immmensly.)

Mary Lou, I hope you don’t mind me quoting you here… She said,

“We remember the struggle your Aunt Pat endured, as well as your folks and grandparents. It was a very difficult time for all of them. Larry and I were in KC keeping your mom company while your dad underwent the harvesting of his bone marrow. We were very aware of Pat’s battle as she tried to beat that terrible disease.
“As we all know, those early procedures provided the foundation for the successful treatments so many people, especially children, are now experiencing. Through the years we have seen several instances and situations which point out the importance of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, a wonderful organization!”

My Aunt Pat didn’t live very many weeks beyond the transplant of her brother's bone marrow. Honestly as a 5 year old I was much more aware of my own father’s suffering through that period than I was my Aunt’s. (that was no small thing, it hurt like hell to donate bone marrow.) But I wasn’t in KC. Her hospital room in those last weeks was no place for a small child. So I say thanks to Mary Lou and Larry and all the other people who sat with my parents, prayed with them, and loved them as they watched her die.


As a pastor I know that most families have holes. Patricia Jane’s absence, my dad's older and only sibling, continues to be one of ours. (picture circa 1947, were they not the cutest pair?) Thankfully the Groves remind me that family is also a whole lot bigger than blood and marriage provide.

Maybe I'll ride my bike today after all.

Stars and Stripes

Today was hot. Appropriate for July 4th, I realize. But after a month of rain and clouds, it was a shock. Riding down Greenwhich Road I kept telling myself, “you’re acclimatizing, you’re acclimatizing, It won’t feel this bad on the next ride,” as my stomach was flipping from the heat.

I rolled into my parent’s driveway and immediately got a report from my ever-ready weatherman.

Dadddy: “Hey! How was the ride?” (all sweaty himself from cutting down tree branches with Chad)

Amy: “Hot. What’s the temperature anyway?”

Daddy: “It’s like 79 or 80 but the humidity is 74%”

Amy: “Where were these clouds an hour ago when I was dying out there?”

Daddy: “To the west.”

Thanks Pop. I especially appreciate the exactness of his report. Note: the humidity was 74%. No estimating for Ken, no sir.

Despite the heat it was a good ride. I realize it is a great luxury to have as my priority for the day riding 30 miles on my bicycle. I am thankful for that. I am thankful for a great family to hang out with the rest of this holiday. I am thankful for the puppies, they wait so patiently, don’t they?


Ah, and I am thankful for freedom. It is Independence Day so I will be thankful for that, just for today. During my ride I saw another cyclist wearing an American Flag jersey...blue backed stars across his shoulders, red and white stripes down his back. I was briefly jealous. Then I remembered I smush all my patriotic feelings into this one day. And I don’t wear holiday-themed clothing. Ever.

One scary moment from the ride: I was out on 31st St S winding around Spirit Aerosystems (formerly known as Boeing) when I almost crashed. I was convincing myself to go two more miles before turning around for home to make sure I hit the 30 mile mark…so I guess I was a little distracted. I reached down for my water bottle, the one that rests against the down tube of my bike because the bottle that is easier to reach was empty. As I leaned down I must have stretched my knee out too far away from the bike because I managed to unclip my right shoe. My foot swung out and back and kicked my rear tire and as I tried to correct the ensuing swerve (with one hand since I had also successfully removed the water bottle and was holding it with my right hand) I went back and forth and back and forth inside my traffic lane. Thankfully there were no cars around, being a holiday and all. I really have no idea how I avoided falling over. But I didn’t, nor did I stop. I found my balance and clipped back in. Lucky. I had visions for the next several miles of chewed up skin, ripped shorts and a very sorry phone call to my parents requesting a pick up.

It is quite possible that I will crash before I get to Tucson. I would just like for it to come from a slightly more impressive reason than, “I was reaching for my water bottle.” Something involving the rescue of small children, perhaps.

Limits

They caught me on Kellogg.
Phooey on the highly efficient speed traps of the Wichita police.

In my defense I was having a rather intense conversation in the car and that section of Kellogg between Rock Rd and Webb feels and looks like an interstate even though the whole silly project is more than a year away from being done. The officer was kind to remind me of that as he wrote my ticket for 54mph in a 35mh. Phooey. PHOOEY!

As I entered the grocery store later yesterday evening I saw a young woman—mid 20’s—calmly walking in handcuffs next to a police officer. Shoplifting? Public Disturbance? I missed whatever drama was to be had in Dillons. But it was a reminder I was not having the worst day in Wichita.
Ready to blow off some steam from my encounter with the law, I went for a bike ride. My first in 10 days thanks to the weirdness of the rainy weather. I’m not sure it was 70 degrees this afternoon. On the ride I passed another oddity.

In Sedgwick County Park there is a sign on the bike path posting a speed limit of 30mph. It is clearly for the bike path not the neighboring traffic on 13th street. No Chad, I am not confused. I wonder which county department I can call to ask, “who in the hell is going to go over 30mph on the bike path?”

I have a cyclometer on my bike. I enjoy seeing how fast I am going…or how much that Kansas headwind is slowing me down. Even descending the biggest hills I don’t think I’ve surpassed 28mph. Of course I am not super brave and I could find a bigger hill (say in Colorado) and go much faster. The Tour de France riders this month will top 50mph on their descents.

No matter. The 30mph sign is on a flat part of the bike path. Who are they trying to control with this sign? 30mph is professional rider paceline speed. And I haven’t seen any of them in Sedgwick County Park.

Unbreakable speed limits, just another reason to bike to work.

not worthy

Two quick experiences in the last week helped me I realized what a novice cyclist I am.

Last Tuesday I was headed home from what I thought was a fairly good ride and as I crossed 13th street on the bike path I came up on another geared-out biker. (You can tell the seriousness or bankroll of a biker by the fabrics they wear. This guy was all spandex and polyester, not a thread of cotton to be found).

He fooled me at first because he was a bit, (quite a bit), older and he struggled to get his shoe clipped in as he crossed the street. I thought “novice.” Then I realized he was wearing a “Ride the Rockies” jersey. Poser? Or accomplished cyclist?

As he came up behind me and then pushed me all the way around the path, I realized the answer was “accomplished.” I kept thinking I was riding at a good effort and would look over my shoulder to see him right on my rear wheel. We were on a section where passing is nearly impossible (along Zoo Blvd and starting down Westdale) so I would push and speed up for him only to find him right behind me again.

As I crossed over to the other side of the street he zoomed on by, shouted out “good ride!” and waved. I was amazed as his piston-like legs propelled him forward, all sinewy and muscular. He has spent many hours in the saddle.

Then as I was leaving Fayetteville, AR this weekend I caught the glimpse of another biker headed toward Mt Sequoyah. He rode quickly up and down the hilly-ness that is Fayetteville, in the pouring rain. Yes, pouring rain.

I’m not worthy.

sleepy

I was in a hurry this morning.

Or at least as soon as I woke up I was. This was one of the few "early morning" rides I have managed. It wasn't really early (compared to you 5:30am risers) but I did start pedaling a scant 30 minutes after getting out of bed. My first miles were full of yawns and stretches and some slow pedaling. Waking up, in motion.

I have realized I need to get accustomed to a sleepy start because it is going to get HOT in Kansas in the next several weeks. Duh. This spring I have enjoyed the habit of 3 or 4 or 5pm rides but very soon it will be much smarter to ride in the morning. Oh and I like to be smart.

This morning I was rewarded for my discipline with great conditions, almost perfect actually, for my 31 mile ride. I was quite relaxed and happy until I realized, around Maize and 21st, that I was going to be late.

When Haverty's automated message system called me earlier in the week the computer informed me that my new living room furniture would be delivered today between 11:15am and 2:15pm (cue grumbling from Amy) They can't get closer than a three hour window? I thought only the cable company pulled stunts like that.

I was sure that I would spend the majority of this day off sitting around in my empty living room waiting for them to show up only to have them roll in at 2:14pm. Though I knew they would be later than I wanted, I still wanted to be at home at 11:15. The last 7 miles of my ride were spent pedaling hard while I was arguing with myself about how there was no way the furniture would be at my house at 11:15 and cursing (or at least blaming) Ken Lippoldt for instilling so much damn responsibility in me that I hate to be late for anything.

Sure enough (you saw where this was headed didn't you?) I turned onto 19th street from Westdale and peered down the block to see a big ole furniture truck in my driveway. It was 11:25. Thankfully they waited.

So now my living room is full of beautiful new furniture.
I have showered, eaten and blogged.
What's left?

Only the inaugural nap on my new sofa. Seems getting up early isn't so bad after all.

Ladybug

I took a long ride on Friday. Not quite as long as I had thought because I got to 119th St West and K-96 and discovered a dirt road. It's probably okay that I only went 26 miles considering the funeral I had this weekend (split over 2 days) meant I wore suit and heels for three days in a row. And exercise weary legs don't like even the slight elevation of short heels. At least not three days in a row. That's what I've learned.



On the ride home on Friday I noticed a ladybug had landed on my shoe. (Is that a sign I should get the previously pictured bell?) I am not quite sure at what stop she affixed herself to the top strap of my right biking shoe, but there she was. And there she stayed.



I do like ladybugs, always have. I think as a child this was related to the fact that they were still "girl-appropriate" but not of the dreaded color, pink. If I had a scanner I would post for you a picture of 5 year old Amy in her ladybug costume waiting for the church children's musical. No scanner, so you will just have to imagine my cute self.



On Friday I was amazed that my passenger ladybug could hold on for the wind sheer. She stayed on my shoe for at least 5 miles. Maybe the top of a bike shoe is an aerodynamically protected space, I have no idea. I hope it was a comfortable ride and not complete terror considering I did enough by totally changing her universe.



She was a Maize ladybug, born and grown in that almost-Wichita town to the northwest. I finally dropped her off at 21st St N and Tyler, far far from her home. I don't know how much ladybugs travel in a lifetime but I am thinking I took her to parts of the world she would have never otherwise seen. I was sorry she didn't hang on until we made it one more block to the park. That would have been ladybug paradise.



I suppose that ladybugs do what ladybugs do where ever they happen to land. I hope so. In that way it might be nice to be a little more ladybug like.

hold on!

Weather.com forecast for today in Wichita:

"Windy with a mix of clouds and sun.

High 92F Winds S at 25 to 40mph.

Winds could occasionally gust over 50mph."

I had planned to bike this afternoon.

I have been talking to myself about how getting ready for El Tour will require gutting out miles in some adverse conditions.

Riding in Kansas means dealing with wind. It is a constant of life here.

I noticed last Friday how my balance on the bike has really improved. I think I am finally getting used to having my feet locked to the pedals.

But I am no fool.

I will run today.

On the treadmill.

Inside.

Far away from bending trees and wind-aided projectiles.

Ring my bell

Would it be uncool to put a bicycle bell on a road bike?

Yesterday I went biking in Sedgwick Co. Park, my standard 10 mile route. Or the outside/inside loop as I like to call it. And I found the runners.

Normally when I ride through the park I encounter picnicking families and walkers, a few rollerbladers and one or four runners. But yesterday they were everywhere! It might have been something magical about 5:30pm or the great 80 degree weather but I must have passed 25 different runners on the inside loop. A high percentage of them were very fit men w/o shirts so it wasn't all bad.

I was feeling good on the bike yesterday and wanted to throw a little speed into the ride so first I had an imaginary race with a biker who was trailing behind me (I kicked his shorts, at least in my own head). The second time I decided to speed up it was in the middle of the runners, some coming at me, some I was passing, some on the left side of the path, some on the right. All the weaving, slowing down, speeding up, left me feeling like I had just reached level five in Frogger.

It also had me wondering in a crash between a cyclist (riding b/w 17 and 20mph) and a runner, who do you think would be hurt worse? (Hey, it's free space on the bike, I can think about whatever I want!) I would certainly fly farther, momentum equals mass times velocity, after all. But considering the runner would encounter my bike first, I think she or he would bear the brunt of a crash.

I don't really want to find out. So, a bell? It would be weird to hear a little bicycle "riiiiiing" and turn around to see some crazed road biker bearing down on you. I guess I'll just keep yelling. Or rather "announcing." I am very polite..."On your left!"

shorts story

I think my shorts are smarter than I am.


Yesterday I squeezed in a quick (7 mile) ride before a personnel meeting and evening prayer at church. The distance was perfect, actually, because I was still plenty sore from the 21 miles I rode on Memorial Day. It is amazing that I will work up to 5 times that length by November.

I was happy for little wind, happy for a little sun, happy for a little biking freedom in the middle of a work day. But mostly I was happy for my shorts! Not in my shorts (I know what you're thinking) for my shorts.

Yesterday's ride was my first time wearing my Pearl izumi "UltraSensor Shorts."


They must be really smart shorts because the label claims all these technical advances like "natural silver antimicrobial ions" and "ultra-plush microfiber padding" along with "dual density pad protection." Not to mention the "capillary action" and "hydrophobic fibers."


Seriously, "hydrophobic?" My shorts are afraid of water?



All I know is they are damn comfortable. So I say today, "thanks" to my dear mother who purchased them last Christmas. They wound up under the tree, I am sure, only because they were on the 50% off rack. (Good thing because they are $90 shorts and my cheap self would have never shelled that out for even the most "epic" comfort--that's on the label too). Oh, I guess she's the smart one.

Mailing

I'm mailing my letters today. Well, since it's Memorial Day, I am actually mailing them tomorrow. To be technical I am copying, stuffing and sealing them today. And wondering why I didn't buy self sealing envelopes. Is there anything that tastes worse than envelope glue? Okay. I can think of a few things, but still it's gross.

I am posting my letter below in case you happened upon this blog w/o recieving one in the mail or you somehow lost it yourself at home.

After the letter business is done, I was hoping for a bike ride. Looks like rain (again) so well see...

May 28, 2007

Dear Family, Friends and Colleagues

Here’s what happened: Twelve months ago, I bought a road bike. For the most part I had considered it a good cross-training opportunity for my more serious hobby of (slow) distance running. When I don’t run, I ride. And I love it.

Five months ago I moved to Wichita. The reason was the job—a new church—a new challenge. That in itself has been wonderful. But it also meant that when I got the flyer advertising “Team in Training” from the Wichita branch of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society it didn’t automatically go into the trash.

One month ago my mother reminded me that this year (May 5th, actually) marked the twenty fifth anniversary of the death of my aunt, Patricia Jane Lippoldt. She was 37 and lived only eight months after being diagnosed with Leukemia. When she died, I was five. I remember very little about her or her illness. But I know it was terribly painful and traumatic and her death, even 25 years later, plays an important role in the life of my family. It changes you, to lose a family member to cancer. Many of you know that first hand.

Bike plus Team plus Anniversary equals new project. Those three things are what I needed to decide that this was the year for me to sign on with Team in Training (TNT). My challenge? To ride 109 miles on my bicycle during El Tour de Tucson, November 17th. That’ll be fun. I think.

Yes it will! TNT will provide great coaching, group training rides, a nifty jersey and everything else a girl could want en route to such a goal. In return for all their help, I have agreed to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS). Really, I have agreed to raise money because I believe in their work. I believe in the way LLS cares for families when they must face the terror of blood cancers. I believe in the research LLS sponsors, research that is improving treatment, prolonging life and moving medical science toward a cure.

They really are making a difference. In 1960 only 4% of children diagnosed with leukemia survived. Today 85% of those diagnosed under age 15 will live. Even with these advances, over 54,000 Americans will die this year of Leukemia and its related cancers. Moreover, families in the hundreds of thousands will struggle to live with a sick family member.

Those are big numbers. Yet I know LLS has a direct effect on patient’s lives because I met my team’s “honored patient,” 4 year old Shayla Gould. Shayla was still in diapers when she was diagnosed with Leukemia in 2004. She lives in Oxford, Kansas and for three years has traveled to Wichita to endure endless doctor’s visits, hospitalizations, and chemotherapy treatments. Instead of the boundless energy of a toddler, Shayla has lived with the exhaustion of illness. Yet hers is a happy story. Thanks to aggressive treatment, Shayla’s Leukemia is now in remission. Throughout her illness Shayla’s family was directly supported by LLS. They helped with family education, provided a support group and even bought tanks of gas so Shayla could get to her treatments.

I would like to see a cure for Leukemia. Until that happens I want to make sure that families stricken by blood cancers do not face their trials alone. That’s why I have chosen to support LLS. That’s why I have chosen to ride my bicycle 109 miles on November 17th. That’s why I have decided to ask you to donate to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

I hope you will give generously to the work of LLS. You can fill out the enclosed donation form and send it back to me with check or credit card information enclosed. Or you can donate on-line www.active.com/donate/tntks/Lippoldt

Though the ride is six months away (that’s lots of time to condition my bike “seat”) I would appreciate hearing from you soon. Please fill out the donor card or contribute on-line by July 31, 2007. If that is not possible, we will gladly take contributions beyond that date. But the sooner I reach my fundraising goal of $3950, the sooner I can focus in on riding my bike.

I plan for this whole process to be an adventure. And I want to share it with you by way of my blog. Well, almost all of it. I’ll omit the grossest details, I promise. Even if you can’t contribute financially I’ll appreciate your support and comments at “the big ride” http://www.lippoldt109.blogspot.com/

It’s been 25 years now since we lost my Aunt Pat. That’s my motivation. I can only pray that you too will feel connection to this cause and chose to contribute. Thanks. Really, from that deepest little part of my heart. Thanks.

All my love,

Amy

kicking-off

Thursday night I went to the "TNT Kick-Off" Party.
For a Party, it stunk. No food, no prizes...oh wait, I did win a mouse pad...no music.

They obviously mis-named the thing. I guess "TNT informational meeting with water and candy on the tables" didn't seem as catchy.

The good part of the night was meeting 5 of my other cycling teammates. We are a diverse group. Two have accomplished long-distance bike rides before. One doesn't have a bike yet. Another is going to have to up-grade from her hybrid bicycle (with nobby tires and upright posture.)

They have time, we won't officially begin riding together as a team until July 28th. And we will probably add a few more riders before fall. From that point on we will someone morph into a cohesive group that combines our skills and strengths. Somehow we will ride as a unified team.

I don't quite understand how that is going to work when I look at how different we are (the coach, Travis, looks like he could ride for 1009 miles if he wanted to). But that will make it fun to watch. Or rather expereince. I will be a part of the thing, won't I?

Diverse and unique indivduals over time and effort forming a cohesive group in practice and spirit...I can already promise I will get a sermon out of it.

beginnings

Last week I signed up for Team in Training.

There is a scent of the heroic in all their publicity but I am not confused.

All I did was sign up to ride my bicycle 109 miles on November 17th.

And raise $3950 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

I am starting work the fundraising campaign...making a mailing list, creating my on-line fundraising page, toying with how to frame my letter. TNT puts a lot of emphasis on getting started with raising money NOW. I understand why, they need the money and that way we all can focus in on training later. These people know what they are doing and at moments it feels like I am just a cog in the wheel (yea, that's cheesy). But any moment of reflection reminds me that actually this is personal.

That's why the blog. It is personal for me and for my family. So I am going to write about the experience here. For those who are supporting the cause and my efforts financially and otherwise, I hope you'll check back to read about the adventures of training and riding and learning and whatever other ramblings this little five month project reveals.

Perhaps you have already received a letter from me, if not I'll post it later. I hope you will contribute to the work of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. You can donate on-line http://www.active.com/donate/tntks/Lippoldt

Why is it personal?

I love my bike. It is Giant's lowest end road bike, the OCR3 I bought it last year not really understanding what a monumental step I was taking in cycling technology. I love riding it now at age 30, as much as I ever loved the Lippoldt family bike rides on my banana-seat Schwinn in the late evenings of Kansas summers.

Personally riding 109 miles in a day is a interesting physical challenge and a good project for me to focus on because it is completely disconnected from work. I need help with that, you know, disconnecting from work.

But that's just the ride. TNT is really personal because 25 years ago tomorrow (May 5th, 1982) my aunt, Patricia Lippoldt, died from Leukemia. I was five. What little I remember about her and that experience I will save for later. For now you can know that this ride seems like the right way to honor her and recognize the impact her death has had, and will always have, on my family.

That's real serious. Sheez. But it is. Leukemia is serious.
The bike ride? Not so much. Hopefully that part will just be fun. Yea, okay, painful and ridiculous, but fun. Sore butt, aching legs, super sweatiness, flat tires, broken chains, sunburns, windburns, exhaustion. That's fun right?