jingle cross day 1

i think Ben was... 21st? Here's how it went: I stood in the pit and shouted. I think I saw all of one bike go out the whole race, and that was to Sherer. Why? oh, yeah. Cuz he crashed in lap 1 and that crash totally shuffled the deck... almost nobody escaped that double-crash just 1/4 of the way into the first lap and while some folks picked their way up to where they should be racing, some ended up in the wrong groups and totally had no hope. you can guess...

anyway.

Ben was in such a hurry to get away from the race after the finish that his bike was on the roof of the car before I got the stuff from the pit there, and I was forced to wash the bike in the shower at the hotel because I didn't get a chance to use the hose.

What was awesome, though, was the Half Acre riders. Of course. Chris had a rad finish in the beginner race - 22 of at least 50, and Tim went out for his singlespeed race in a speedo. Really, no joke, I had to write his race number on him in sharpie. And Dan totally helped make things happen. We've been getting awesome since we got back from the course and things really just get awesomer. Words can't express... pride, fun, shenanegans. Half Acre love.

iowa city is sort of like everywhere else.

we arrived around 6pm after 7 hours in the car from Eau Claire, WI. It would have been faster but an hour outside Iowa City, in Waterloo IA, Ben saw a train doing a shift change and had to stop for photos. We waited for it to go again, since there were power lines in the way of the shot from where the train was sitting, and after 20 minutes it still hadn't gone anywhere. So we went to Taco John's, and then to Iowa City.

Then, we joined our team(s) and retired to the pool. And drank. And drank. Of course, Ben didn't, but the rest of us made up for it. Then, we engaged in shenanegans. And more shenanegans.

I had a conversation in the lobby that was a bit louder and less discrete than it should have been and I'm massively guilt tripping about it, though it was all true. My ears were still ringing from the car ride and I just spoke too loud.

Everyone's here, it's sort of fun to see everyone again, both Chicagoans and those we've traveled to MI, Madison, OH, Toronto, and maybe even NJ with. Fun times.

Thanksgiving was good, I love my family and of course had a relaxing good time. On the way to Eau Clarie, Ben and I worked with Audrey to invent the Official Illinois State Cyclocross Awesomeness Champion award, presented by Rock Lobster and Half Acre. Stay tuned, the winner will be revealed at Montrose Park between the 1/2/3 men's and the 4a men's races. Oh, yes, it's OFFICIAL. Because we said so!

all the small things.

Last night's hearing sucked. It made perfectly clear what an old boys network I've somehow gotten involved in, and, as I expected, it became all about how I'm new and he's been around 9 years or somesuch, and about how I just fail to share his sense of humor. It pissed me off and I said things that were a bit more radical than I probably should have; everyone else was jovial about things and I came out swinging. I decided this morning that if they choose not to do something appropriate about this, I'm probably never having anything to do with that organization again.

Ben and I are working half days today. This afternoon, we're taking Molly back to her favorite giganto-huge-pond-stream dog park. Then, packing for the weekend. Molly's staying home with Ben's dad and we're headed to Eau Claire, WI and then straight to Jingle Cross. We're guaranteed to forget something, I hope it won't be a helmet or a shoe.

This morning I somehow managed to fly through my workout, finishing below pace and running 2 of the miles more than 20 seconds below pace. I just kept thinking about that hearing situation, it kept pissing me off, so I kept going. My favorite part about winter running is taking a long, hot shower when I get home. Seriously, if I can see myself in the mirror after I get out it's an anomoly. That alone is reason enough to run though till spring!

accuser / victim

I don't want to get too into this, but I'm nose-deep in a crap heap that I consider holding people accountable for their actions, but apparently is also Some Great Deal that puts the spotlight equally on me, and I'm starting to realize why people whose modus opperandi is destructive get away with it again, and again, and again.

I don't believe that anyone who vocalizes racist, sexist, or otherwise prejudiced and hurtful things should have any role of authority whatsoever. I know that getting people to not feel these things is a long road, but we can at least expect them not to express their hurtful ideas aloud in public. Federal law actually prohibits much of this kind of speech in the workplace, labeled as creating a "hostile work environment." But when the setting isn't a traditional workplace, the rules change, even though they shouldn't.

The problem is that outside of a workplace law and a clear chain of command, holding these people accountable is very difficult. I always respond with a "do you really mean that?" or "please don't say that ever again."
Without fail, the person will reply with the textbook "Don't you have a sense of humor?"

Ha. Ha ha. Yeah, being hurtful toward people is hilarious, isn't it? Like, the things you just said would get you fired from any workplace in a hot second but since you're standing next to me in something other than that, you're just joking around and we're old buddies. UGH.

This is what I endured this summer. After neverending "jokes" and clearly flat responses to my requests they stop, he turned his aim to me and actually started harassing me, middle school style. I was going to leave, but instead was asked to file a "complaint." Sure, whatever.

I thought this meant putting on the record and in writing what he did, and that was that. Instead this has unfolded into a three month long process where I'm being forced to tell my story as a "victim" again, and again, and again. Now, tonight, I'm doing it again, with the offender on the phone. He has the right to defend himself, right?

I've just never been through a process like this before. I waiver between completely incensed and completely done with it. From my perspective, he was in the wrong, I'm in the right, yet it's taken hours and hours and hours of my time to go through this and I'm having to play a victim in a way with which I'm completely uncomfortable. Then I heard that after he knew about this whole thing he has continued to act the same way, galvanizing me to close out this process, but I'm still totally burned out on being the victim and I don't understand why I'm asked to stand up against him when really it should have taken just me, a witness, his defense, and it be over. It's about him, not me, and I'm really sick of feeling like it's about both.

I really, really hope tonight is the last of it. I keep telling myself this is for the "Greater Good" when really it doesn't matter. Nothing changes people like this. We have to relegate them to dark corners and try to lower tolerances for "sense of humor." But sometimes someone needs to stick their neck out. It just sucks that this time it had to be me.

the slowing-down.

Things are slowing down around here... at work I have some time on my hands, at home after work it's mostly couch-sittin', and outside of the weekends and the before-work running, it's just lazy days.

I'm filling work time obsessing over deals, making Molly's new Dogster page, reminiscing over old travel photos, and trolling for something interesting in the news. Usually by this time of year I'd have tickets in hand for my spring vacation and some related research to do, but not now. The economy sucks and I still haven't sold my place. I think if my place sells I'll consider a trip, but traveling without Ben is hard, even though I get more than twice the vacation days. I have some destinations in mind - Chile, Vietnam, Guatamala, Sri Lanka. But we'll see.

We've been burning through netflix n' beer, spending time with Molly, and getting housework done. Three more weekends of madness. Then, breakfast in bed.

Woodstock: 2 cases of CX joy.

(photos: Amy) No doubt the highlight of this season for me will be the Woodstock Men's A race, where the Chicago Cuttin' Crew's Andrew Nordyk, on his second race of the day and in last place, came up the hill and placed his order at the drive thru. "I need a beer, and a hot dog! Beer and hot dog!" I handed up the Half Acre as he rode by, swigged it, and about 10' later, Adam Clark was ready with a hot dog. Since one hand was on the bars and one was on the beer, Adam slipped the hot dog into Andrew's jersey pocket. Next lap, he called for a beer again. "I have a brown ale this time, a brown ale!" I shouted. "No, I want the lighter one!" Opened the lager, handed it up, and as he rode by, I saw that he already had two beer bottles in his jersey pockets. Now THAT is racing. On the results, he was relegated, from last place to last place, for "1. No alcohol on the course, 2. Handups in pit only, 3. No glass on the course." He paid $10 for that second race, but by his account collected 2 hot dogs and three beers, a good value for $10.

I "raced" too. When the whistle went off, even though I've been commuting in ATACs for more than 5 years, I just couldn't get in, and the field had ridden away from me in, oh, 50' or so. And let's just say that I somehow lost any ability to climb hills this fall. I just totally sucked at every climb. I'll punish myself for that by hooking a bike up to the trainer and cranking up the resistance this spring, but for now, I'll admit that on the course I was thinking my only chance for getting a decent finish in the race was if everyone else flatted, which they didn't, thankfully. The joke of the day was that I expected that marrying a good racer would wear off on me a little faster. Whatever. I still don't have a cx bike, nor do I plan to get one, seeing as how I clearly suck at cx. I also raced in jeans because I had borrowed Ben's knee warmers, which were too small for me and grabbed my thighs so uncomfortably tight that it caused little bulges that I'd like to call thigh boobs. Perhaps that's too much information. But let's be clear: sucking at it or not, cx is fun, and I had fun, and I smiled alot, and shouted at other racers while I "raced" and shouted back at people cheering, and that's what it's all about! I posted something about it on our team site, too, but that doesn't mention the thigh boobs.

It was great meeting the other Julie, who did her first race ever yesterday. She and I laughed our way through the race together. I had an awesome time hanging out with teammates and friends, handing up the Half Acre, meeting some new folks, shouting at everyone, and I really enjoyed catching up with folks I hadn't seen in a month or more. On the way home, after Taco Bell of course, I couldn't stop telling Audrey and Adrian what a great day it was.

This morning, I didn't feel great and it was snowing, so I made a deal with Molly that we'd run 3 instead of the usual 5. The sidewalks were slippery. Winter, ugh.

for Molly and for Ben's bikes, things got better.

So, after a hard day for all of us, Chris was kind enough to invite us- including Molly- to work on the bikes in a stand at SRAM world HQ. It was awesome. We fixed things up while Ben rolled around the test track on a razor scooter and Molly chased him. And now, the bikes are shiny, functional, newly cabled, and slightly less filled with water.

No word from animal control, so we are pretty sure Molly is in the clear.

Day off means plans at 1 PM, 4 PM and 6 PM...

jack russell attack! or, a retractable leash is trying to get my dog killed.

This morning, it was 16 degrees out when we left the house for the usual 5 mile run. But it turned out rather un-usual, and left me in tears and completely useless today.
About 1.5 miles into the run, a jack russell terrier was ahead of us on the sidewalk, on a retractable leash. "Reel him in!" I shouted. I tried again, "Reel your dog in!" It started about 6' away from its owner. It ran about 8' more toward Molly, and then things got out of hand.
At first they just sniffed. Then the other dog showed teeth. The black cord of that retractable leash wrapped once, then twice around Molly's leash, right at the collar, locked on tight. They were tied face-to-face, and neither were happy. Molly growled, the little dog showed teeth again. I tried to separate them, failed, stepped back, and the other guy got them pulled just feet apart. He tried to get his leash untangled and ended up making it worse. I couldn't look at him. I untangled his leash. Looked at the little white dog- there was no blood showing. Then, wanting not to stand there with our dogs still unhappy with eachother, I ran away.

1.5 miles later, there was the dude, standing in front of the White Hen, waiting for me, camera in hand. He started taking pictures of Molly. He asked for her tag number, and I gave it to him. He yelled at me for running away, I explained the way to stop dogs from going at eachother wasn't to sit them next to eachother while their owners discussed who was in the wrong. He claimed Molly bit his dog's face, and when I said I saw no blood, he agreed that there was none. I told him I called twice for him to reel the dog in, that his dog was out of control, that Jack Russells are dog-aggressive and that Molly wasn't, that she goes to Daycare and is well trained (as she sat there patiently). He said he didn't hear me call out, that he was going to call animal control, that his dog is not dog-aggressive. I said that in the 1000 miles we've logged this year nothing like that happened, that if he reeled his dog in and controlled it we wouldn't have had a problem. He told me he had all the info he needed. I told him Molly's not in the wrong just because she's bigger. We ran on.

As I ran away I realized that his leash was, in fact, illegally long, and that if he wants to get the law involved, I might as well try to get him a ticket for that. I didn't have his info though. I ran back looking for him, but couldn't find him. For the next three miles (I overran the 5, but I needed to think) I was thinking about how it doesn't matter what an idiot the owner was, or how wrong those leashes are. Molly's bigger, she's a pit bull. It must be her fault. And Animal Control could kill her if they wanted to. That's what they do to pits. I got home and cried, freaked out. Molly knew something was up. She didn't eat her breakfast. All we can do now is wait and see what happens.

I have no doubt in my mind that this is 95% the fault of the owner with the dumb retractable leash that didn't control his dog. Not his dog's fault, not my or Molly's fault, it's him and that leash. If his dog was on a regular leash of legal length, Molly and I could have jumped into the street and avoided. But as those leashes get longer, that's when trouble starts. Once it's out, there's no way to get it back in. Chicago leash law is a maximum 6', for a reason.
I shouldn't have run away. But it's all I knew to do. It's funny, when I'm involved in a bike accident I know exactly what to do-it's innate and automatic. But with dog stuff, I'm still learning. I get the sense that me running away pissed off that owner more than anything, and he mentioned it a few times. But Molly was losing it and his dog was too. I just don't have the skillz for handling this stuff.
Ugh, what a day.

homecoming, aka assessing the damage.

Ben got the call from Amtrak last night that his bikes have arrived home from Jersey. Super special thanks to Ryan and Jen for delivering them safely to the train station. I didn't really get a chance to assess the full damage of the mudbath that was this weekend's race, so I'm not sure what all needs to be done. I know we'll recable at least one front derailer. The rest, wait and see. At least there's no pressure for this weekend.

...
I'm very thankful for my walk to work. I usually hurt a little after my morning runs and the 1/2 mile walk helps work out some of the soreness. This was particularly the case today after my "cliffhanger" workout - run mile 1 20 sec slower than pace, then take 10 sec off the pace every mile for 5miles, finishing at 20 sec below pace. Ouch. But hey, I did it, and it counts.

This morning Ben forgot his chain lock at home, so he called and asked me to bring it to work. I wore it around my waist and laughed as I thought to myself, "this thing brings me back up to what I weighed last year at this time." Progress!

My $.02 on ATA, and other normal people stuff.

First, the Chicagoland Bicycle Federation changed its name this week to the Active Transportation Alliance. This formalizes its shift toward supporting all non-car transit, which is, of course, cool. What isn't cool at all is lumping the concerns of cyclists and pedestrians with those of public transit riders. IMO, our number one concern is safety, whereas theirs is cost/schedule. The mammoth problems of the CTA aren't the losing battles that I want my advocacy organization trying to tackle, and clearly if they're to serve CTA riders we cyclists and pedestrians are going to end up in a back seat. Sure, it's an untapped membership base, but must we always make decisions based on $$$? I feel watered-down and unrepresented. I'm also insulted by the "start your own group" line that many who are intimately involved in CBF/ATA are taking to those of us wanting a bike/ped only organization. Seriously, what a shi+ response.

Day three of a week where I don't have to get on a plane on Friday and I'm really enjoying the nights at home and time to catch up, including...
Running. I logged just 15 miles last week, hoping to get up to 25 this week. Yesterday it was 22 degrees when I headed out the door, a 20 degree drop from my coldest run thus far this fall. The lungs, they don't like that cold and added a serious :40 per mile to my pace, but they'll learn. Today's 32 degrees had me back on pace. As of this week I've hit 1000 miles for this year... later than I would have liked but there was the whole wedding thing, and Ben's racing, and life...
Knitting. When the snow falls the needles come out, and this week I made a scarf for my mom. I think I'll go back to socks or something more interesting. Scarves are boring.
Baking. Audrey came over last night and we made tasty almond cookies, featuring amaretto in the batter. We had to taste the amaretto to make sure it was ok. Several times.
Cooking. I've been struggling to find something more original to make, but with little fresh produce available and the CSA over for the year, things are getting a little dull. Soups n' stews, baked omlettes, tofu concoctions... I should do some research.
Cleaning. The mud of many nations (OK, Canada and Jersey mostly) is piling up on our floors and things are just... ugh. I'll tackle that one later.

Baptizing bikes in Jersey.

(photos: Ryan) I have alot to say, so let's make this organized.
1. "This is going to suck."
2. My 2 1/2 races.
3. Testosterone always sucks.
4. DanAction!, Natalie, Ryan, and Jen are awesome.

This is going to suck.
I really need to stop saying this at races. Just after suffering through the 40 degree pouring rain mudfest of Toronto, I find myself at a course with 2"-6" of thick, sloppy mud covering the whole course. In fact, because the pit was slightly less muddy, it was faster to ride through the pit and take a bike than it was to run through the muck on the course next to the pit. Every half lap, we would be dealing with bikes. Yeah, it was warmer, thankfully, but whereas Toronto had a nice pressure washer in the pit (though it ran out of water) this race had two hoses that we had to cross the course to get to. These hoses, much like Toronto, were hooked up to a tank and to prevent running out of water, only the HoseMasters were allowed to operate them. We rolled up bikes and stood there and watched while they did it their way... and decided what was clean enough. Lines were long. And the trip to the washer was about 40 yards... my 40 yard dash, every half lap.

My 2 1/2 races.
I was game-on starting with Sarah Kerlin's 1:45pm Women's UCI Elite field. It worked out really, really well since the women's field was half the size and gave me a taste of what I'd be dealing with for the men's race. With a sloped pit and heavy muddy bikes coming in, the downhill end was favored for riders but gave an extra 100' to run to the bike wash. So I set up camp at the bottom of the hill and resigned myself to the run.
The line was never more than 6 bikes long during the women's field, and the run was OK though I had to shoulder the bike coming back to avoid re-mudding it before handing it up. Sarah was farther back in the field than I expected, though, and another wrench said she had a bad start. At the first 1/2 lap handup she said she'd be dropping out, and we did two more exchanges (and two more 40-yard dashes) before I didn't see her again. It sort of freaked me out when she didn't come through, and I stood there, paranoid that I'd missed her, for two laps before I gave up.
Then came Ben's race. Some of the pro teams had brought trash cans full of water, which they were filling with buckets, to run the power washers they had brought along with the requisite generators. We could tell that the line at the hoses was going to be a problem, so DanAction! hustled up a bucket and some rags as an alternative and we all hoped for the best. The guys came through, the exchanges were made, I ran across the course and to the line... and waited, about 12 bikes in front of me. By the time I was back to the exchange lane, Ben was just coming in again. Crap, this isn't going to work.
The next lap, I tried to use the bucket. But the mud was thick, and I needed more water than it was giving, and I just couldn't get the muck out of the cassette. All too soon, Ben was back, and I wasn't ready. Dan turned around and called for the bike, I passed it to him and he did a slightly delayed handup, the only one I missed all weekend.
Word was flying around about an easy way into the lake next to the course, which was about 100' farther to run to but no wait. Next lap, I followed DanAction! down to the lake and threw Ben's bike in. Spin the wheels, splash the cassette, pick the grass out, and shazam! Good to go.
For the rest of the handups, I went to the lake, shin-deep, baptizing the bike. The other friendly wrenches going down to the lake giggled along with me. So this is what it comes to!
I spent most of the time next to Richard Sachs' himself, his wife with their dog in the pit in a backpack, and their teammates. Such nice folks.
Day 2, Sarah's race, Jen was helping out and the HoseMasters had a new system that made the line move faster but guaranteed we were all covered in mud. Instead of two stations with one hose spraying each, they had three guys at one station- a hose spraying both sides and a guy to hold the bike and spin wheels. The spinning wheels threw the mud right back on all of us... but it got us out of there fast.
Jen and I ignored the jerks and had a great time. We took turns making the run to the washer and things went really, really smoothly.

Testosterone always sucks.
Add to all this the sense that we were competing not just for space in the pit but also for space in line for the washers, and some guys got a little aggro. We tripped over eachother a little, and a few guys dealt with it in a most uncooth fashion, throwing elbows and ordering people around. As in, ok: "Riders coming in!" or "Look out!" Not ok, but heard often: "Get outta the way!"
This happened again and again. And on day 2 it was worse during the women's race, since a guy who had been a jerk on day 1 had four buddies drinking beer in the pit (talk about getting in the way) and then one of them got on a megaphone and shouted "Clear the pit!" Then they started daring eachother to say completely sexist and inappropriate things to the riders. Way to support women's racing.
Tripping over eachother became a real problem, such that during Sarah's day 2 race I was watching who she was riding with and taking note of where in the pit the other riders' bikes were. No sense causing handup traffic with three of us in one spot, so I was all over the place.
Oh, and let's talk about the line for that washer... two top-10 men's riders' mechanics decided they would skip the line. Without saying a thing. Look: if you're that good, if you're that pro, bring your own damn pressure washer! We're all in the same boat, some of us have been waiting a while and our riders are on their way in. Ugh.
90% of the folks in the pit this weekend were awesome as usual, helping eachother, trading stories, having fun. I just don't get why some folks get so tweeked up about things. Look, we're all wet and muddy and being a jerk isn't helping anyone. Leave the testosterone to the racers. Let's hope this isn't how Portland and KC goes. It's the camaraderie in the pit that makes the task tolerable and even fun at times, and it sucks how those dudes poison it.

DanAction!, Natalie, Ryan, and Jen are awesome.
When we built Ben's bikes on Saturday morning, as I feared, that Tiagra triple wasn't working. It was rubbing on the chainrings. Dan ran to his basement, came back with a DuraAce double, threw it on, and in 10 minutes we were outta there, bikes working great. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Dan had only met Ben and I at a race last fall for a few minutes, but he and Natalie, who'd never met us, still opened their house to us. So amazing. It was really fantastic to hear Ben and Dan talk about the bigger context of racing and life, and I enjoyed talking nurse stuff and bikes with Natalie.
Meanwhile, our good friends from DC Ryry and Jen brought us whisky on Saturday, joined us for dinner Saturday, breakfast Sunday, and Jen helped in the pit on Sunday. I miss them so much, it was so great catching up, and I really do hope they move to Chicago!
The results this weekend weren't good, but the friends we caught up with made the trip totally worth it.

...
I'm looking forward to a weekend at home, hoping things can slow down a little. I can't believe how things are just flying by. Where has the fall gone?

this weekend, Jersey.

Yup, another weekend on the road, this one to Jersey for the USGP. We're staying with an awesome guy we met at the Chainbiter last year, Circle A's DanAction! What a rad community we're part of, where you meet people once a year ago and they open their home to you. We'd return the favor if we could, but since there's no UCI action near Chicago...

I'm not feeling so hot, in several ways. On a personal level, along with being somewhat high on Day Quil (yeah, I gave up finally) and facing my cold getting progressively worse, I skipped my run this morning, after drinking too much with the ladies at a wine tasting last night. And it breaks my heart to leave Molly for another weekend, though I know she's in good hands with Ben's dad.

On a race level... as much as I've loved working with Cross Results and uploading the local stuff, seeing things like this makes me want to crawl back in bed. I know it's not completely accurate, but the deck's pretty stacked this weekend. Add to that a somewhat miserable weather report for the weekend, and I'm just not feeling like the cheerleader I usually am.

Ben's teammate Sarah Kerlin is traveling sans-wrench so I'll be in the pit for her race, too. She's a serious contender at this stuff and still doing quite well in the national rankings. Should be fun.

I don't know about posting here, but I'll twitter what I can.

help the sport. be an official.

The Illinois Cycling Association is very, very short on officials, forcing some events to run short-handed (and give poor results) and others to pay big bucks to bring officials in from out of state (a cost that's passed on in registration fees, making you pay more to race.) Why not give back to the sport by getting your license and officiating a few track, road, or CX races in 2009? Hell, you even get paid... a little.

Introductory Officials Clinic:
Highland Park High School
Saturday, November 29, 2008
9:00am-2:00pm
Info is here.

...
Anyone got some good herbal tea I could borrow? My cold is getting worse, the weather for this weekend is cyclocross perfect but sick girl miserable, and I wouldn't mind being un-miserable for, ya know, a spell.

and ya wanna know what's cool? the high school 2 blocks from our house that I run past every morning has a new sign up: Congratulations Michelle Obama, Class of 1981 Alumna.

impending doom (aka winter)

(photo: Ben) I stepped outside this morning and my brain immediately jumped to Chefchaoen, that little damp and cold hamlet in Morocco's north that felt just like this. It made me want a wood fireplace and time to just lay around.

See, that's the thing about Chicago's pre-winter. (Can't call it fall, it's too cold and the leaves are already gone.) It makes you just want to lay in bed. We're all tired, there's not enough daylight, it's cold, it's damp, and we're all struggling with the same head cold. The easy solution is to stay in bed and call it a season. But the one thing Ben told me the day I moved here is that the way to get through winter is to not give up, not just for a day. Because if you let 40 degrees and rain keep you inside, then surely 10 below...

So my dog, my head cold, and I went for the usual 5-miler this morning. The head cold robbed :3o a mile from my pace, the dog kept dragging me, trying to get up to normal pace. But I did it, so take that, pre-winter! Last winter I ran all through the worst of it. I need to just keep going to do that again.

In the meantime, Ben's bikes are on the train to Philly. Looks like the weather this weekend won't be too helpful for my cold. But while we're busy with our high expectations for Ben, let's just remember that there are other things he's good at too. Like this. ( I was searching Flickr to see who all posted pics of him from last weekend and it came up... ah, memory lane.)

the cycle continues

after Saturday's mudfest, I needed to recable both bikes. We also had to get the bikes to Amtrak as fast as possible to get them on their way to Philly for the USGP next weekend. We were out of cables at the house and needed to move fast.

As usual, Sam came to our rescue.

We showed up at Rapid Transit at closing time last night and Sam hung around, working on the bikes with us, till 10pm. We replaced cables and housing for both shifters on both bikes, Sam showed me how to fix the ever-loosening hubs on Ben's wheels, and we took a minute to look everything else over.

Trying to pull the cable off the A bike's front derailer, Ben found a problem in the derailer. We had to replace it with what we could find in the commuter-centric shop- and the closest we could get to his ultegra double was a tiagra triple. Sam spent probably 20 minutes trying to tune it up to work right with the CX gear range on a double, but it's working. I just hope something doesn't go haywire this weekend since I'm not sure I have the patience to get it back in line. The setup is rather finickey.

I'm still sick, though, and faded fast as the night wore on. Having eyes looking over my shoulder I grumped out and shut down, walked away and let Sam finish the tuning. Sam's a bagillion times better at these builds than me- and a bagillion times more experienced- so no sense worrying about my work when Sam can just get 'er done.

Which brings me to my Commentary portion of today... It's hard to be confident when you're not matching the experience level of the other folks around you. I'm not a shop mechanic doing this stuff every day, I know how to do it but I'm not professional-fast, and I'm always finding myself somewhat uneasy about that fact. I'll settle in, in time, but for now... the mantra is "make it work, make Ben confident in it, do what it takes." It's funny. Ben totally trusts my work- I just project my self-doubt on him and assume.

good times in toronto, eh.

(photo: Wes) what can I say? the short of it: my teammate Kevin took 4th in the 3's and Ben took 18th, three places back from the points, but probably a good :30 too. I did nothing from the pit but shout.

Kevin was up at 8am for the 10am race. He wanted to ride there as a warmup so I met him there, shouting and spectating from the top of the ski hill. Did I mention the ski hill? The entire course was up and down the hill. Insane. Ben drew this up- this is about 1/3 of the course. It was awesome because we could see so much of what unfolded in the race from the pit, and for Kevin's race, from standing on top of the hill. I shouted at the 3's alot, including telling the leader he was in last place once he mixed with lap traffic. He stopped dead and looked at me, "no, I'm in first."
"That was a joke."
"Oh, ok." (no laugh.) He then got back on his bike and started riding again.
Kevin killed it for a 4th place finish. Way to take the international circuit by storm!

I got a tip from one of the many super-friendly locals that there was a secret second floor to the registration building that had clean bathrooms and a heated, covered space. When we rolled up with Ben, we set him up there with trainer, change of clothes, etc. It worked out like a charm and instead of jumping around trying to stay warm he did his 'warmup' by laying on the floor for 5 minutes before pre-ride.

Just before the start, he tells me his A bike isn't shifting into the big cog. Big problem, considering the big hill. I stand there, trying to be discrete about the fact that I'm tuning his bike while he's on his B bike waiting for callups. Got it moving again and traded out bikes while he was in the corral. Ugh. After Saturday's mud we need badly to recable both bikes, and both derailer hangers are bent, and things are just getting... wonky.

Off the start I could see him flying away with a front group, hitting the first barriers just behind Molly. He settled into the low 20's and slowly picked guys off. The course had its role in things too- Mike the Canadian (who was so kind to us in Michigan) broke a chain and didn't have a pit bike... someone else broke a pedal off... it took such power to get up that hill that things were breaking. Ben's bikes somehow muddled through. He was getting close numbers-wise, but the gaps in front of him were growing. I still can't believe the power he threw down consistently each lap to get up that hill. Insane.

The clouds were heavy and grey and the weather was windy but OK for the race, but those clouds were threatening. I put my rain pants on before the start, just in case, which basically ensured it didn't rain. All we did from the pit was laugh at people who wiped out, including Johnson on lap two and Ben in the exact same spot four laps later. Aside from that, no big news.

Thanks again to the friendly folks who introduced themselves. Turns out the random flickr stream I poached for yesterday's photos is a guy who recognized me from the internets and introduced himself - Mike - and hello also to Wes who stalked Ben's bikes all weekend and took some rad photos. The world is getting so small, and I feel so lucky to have met so many outgoing and welcoming folks. Come to Chicago, eh?

We got home at 2am, after a dinner stop at Moose Winooski's, where I had poutine and Ben had schnitzel and Kevin drank a Canadian. It snowed from the border all the way through Michigan. I'm trying to fight off a cold- no time for being sick with NJ USGP this coming weekend. This morning, I did a load of stinky wet muddy laundry before work, and it came out smelling precociously like peppermint and menthol. Something with embrocation on it must have slipped in.

go eat some mud.

(photo: shapelike_O_o) after weeks of wishing for cyclocross weather, I'm now thinking I should be more careful about what I wish for. With temperatures hovering in the low 40's and a nice windy downpour, it takes a hearty soul to not get just plain miserable.

They were checking mechanics' licenses and giving out wristbands for pit access, and I handed mine over hoping the USAC would be good enough. They complained that it had the "wrong info" on it and wrote me down as USAYYYYMMDD anyway, I guess not figuring out that I didn't have the UCI. I mean, who cares, anyway?

On the preride, Ben's tires were caking with mud within a lap. We forgot to bring brushes so I broke the snow brush out of the trunk and went to work with that. Luckily the rain started falling and loosening things up, so by race time they weren't slicking up. Kevin filled the fire extinguisher so I had backup, but nothing's as fast as the pressure washer.

During callups, it was pouring, windy, miserable. Ben forgot his baselayer so I took off my Ibex wooly and handed it over. I went to the pit wearing one pair of socks, under armor top and tights, galoshes, rain pants, hat, scarf, gloves and winter jacket. I was freezing but dry. Ben got called up to the last row, probably 7th row or so. I'm sure he has something to say about that over in his blogland.

After the start officials were checking wristbands in the pit and throwing people out, including some well-known riders' mechanics who didn't get wristbands.

After the first half lap Johnson took a new bike. Ben switched bikes after two. The race was a parade of handup-pressure wash-handup. I found that I have a new special talent for getting all the mud off the bike and directly onto me. I was seriously a mudball and I'm still puzzling at how everyone else stayed relatively clean. Newbie luck? Or was it just that I didn't care? My gloves were uselessly wet and I started using them as rags instead.

I was doing the usual handups- asking another mechanic to catch the bike while I handed- and I was helping others do the same. But with 4 to go a Commissar yelled at me. "You can't help another rider, only yours." What? There's no rule like that. Any rider can take support in the pit, whether or not it's from their mechanic, ya? I argued a little. "If you do it that way your rider isn't always touching a bike, he's running a little without one." OK, so that is a rule. Whatever. The dude was a grump and it wasn't worth risking, but I'm finding officials seem to like to make up rules to keep themselves busy sometime. I mean, we've never had a problem with this before.

By the second lap, nobody controlled pit access or checked credentials. Spectators wandered in and people from earlier races were in line for the bike wash. The pressure washer ran out of water with 3 to go and there was some serious grumbling. The fire extinguisher got me one or two last bike washes. After the race, it was a wash at a hose near registration, then some good luck brought us a hose outside the hotel. The bikes are shiny and clean and ready to roll. Our stuff however... all wet and muddy. The lesson of the day... it's a lot harder to be Ben's cheery support crew when I myself am completely miserable...

Tired in Toronto.

We didn't get in till 3:30am local time, and there were loud people in the hotel hallway by 6:30am. It was a long drive through some godawful boring terrain that forced UFO jokes.

I spent some quality time in the shower this morning with Ben's A bike. He didn't wash it after racing last weekend. Far better to be warm and indoors than to be cold outside washing the bike, even if it leads to unintended intimacy.

We went to get beer today, and we had to go to a place called The Beer Store. I walked in and immediately thought, Strange Brew! "I'll have 24 Elsinore." Really, though, you ordered from the dude who had a mic, and then the beer came through the wall on a little rolly conveyor. No way, hosers!

The weather forecast says 40% of rain this afternoon.

o, canada!

I'm no longer ashamed of my country. But I am ashamed of my ugly new passport. I had to ditch the completely full of cool visas, chip-free old-style passport when my name changed. At least they sent it back as a memento... the new passports are ungodly ugly.

Anyway, yeah, Ben and I are being joined by Kevin for our weekend jaunt over the border. I called USAC weeks ago to secure Ben's "permission to ride abroad" letter, so that's square, and we're all ready to roll. Word on the street is this is a good chance for him to get that UCI point, but as the day draws near we're learning more folks are crossin' the border than we thought: J-Pow, Tim-J, and Molly, for a few. We'll just go out there and have a good time, ya?

There's a little pressure on, though, no thanks (or thanks?) to the weather report. This could be the first weekend of actually doing bike wash during the race. We come bearing an old-style bike-pump-pressurized water-refillable fire extinguisher so that I won't have to throw elbows in a pressure washer line, but it's going to be a challenge to figure out how to de-mud the bikes quickly without getting myself completely soaked AND how to keep warm through it all. Wish me luck. At least it's just an hour. It seems like something that would be super simple to do, I'm sure once I have a process down it'll just flow.

President Barak Hussein Obama!

Yesterday morning at 6am, before leaving to knock doors around noon, I was assigned to train volunteers in groups of 6 and send them into rental mini vans to go knocking doors. At the beginning of each training- I probably did nearly 10 myself and there were 4 others doing the same, along with 8 trainers for people using their own cars- I asked people their name, where they were from, and whether they'd ever canvassed before.

Nearly 1/2 of the people who knocked doors in Milwaukee for Obama had never done anything for a campaign before... and about 1/4 said they'd never even voted before.

What is it that could take someone from apathy to a high enough level of commitment to get in their car, drive 3-4 hours round-trip from Milwaukee to a location they're not sure how to find, take the day off work, and knock on the doors of complete strangers?

Yesterday we didn't just win an election. We somehow convinced the American people - apathetic, excluded, or nay-sayers- that something could change and they could make it happen. This is fantastic but dangerous. We might have just reshaped politics in our country and taken it away from the wealthy, elderly, suburban voters to hand it to a new generation of working people with real problems that need help. But if we fail to deliver on what our new voters need, we will be worse off than ever.

This victory should mean healthcare for every American passes within the first 100 days of the Obama administration, along with an expanded right to join a union and have a voice at work, a reshaped tax system that doesn't tax working Americans to give out corporate pork, the end of the war in Iraq and a new role and new respect in the world, and public works and infrastructure projects that put our people to work and jump start our ailing economy. This cannot be just business as usual.

So, that's my hangover. I'm excited but terrified. The victory party in Milwaukee last night had far more of a New Year's Eve feel to it. We knew once PA was called that Obama would win the minute CA polls closed. We counted down. Then, we cried. Hugged strangers, shouted alot, started conga lines, and even drank just a bit... but I'm sure it was nothing compared to Grant Park - this prose by Kevin Connolly of the BBC bottled the night fantastically well.

Today, driving home to Chicago. Back to life, looking forward to Ben and Molly and friends and good times. Friday, it's off to Toronto for more UCI action. More bikes. I promise. I'm going abroad proud of my nation for the first time in 8 years.

yes we can.

please vote today.

Yesterday I went back on doors and I just can't describe the Obama effect. White folks from out of town are welcomed in poor Black Milwaukee neighborhoods with open arms, cheers, thank-you's. We are all in this together, and we know it. For me alone...

• At 14th and Keefe, a young man wrote an impromptu rap about Obama and "painting the white house black and the nation blue."
• At 24th and Capitol, a bored kid asked how he could help. I gave him some door hangers, and he worked with me for three blocks.
  
• At 41st and Roosevelt, after I told her that we're expecting lines at the polls, a woman sang out in her best church choir voice as if she had practiced the song, "Barak is worth the wait."
• A kid at Florist and Teutonia told me not to worry, "Obama already won the election." I inquired further. "We all voted at my school on Friday and he won by one hundred percent!"
• I've been offered full dinners, housing, gas money, fresh pie, and prayers at people's doors.

It's a big day. It's a good Obama day.

two down, two to go.

i stood in front of our staging location and noticed something about the traffic eastbound on Capitol Drive - they had cross bikes. I pulled out my gizmo and googled the WI CX schedule and, sure enough, I spent half the day standing less than 2 mi from the race. Huh. In one of the only breaks of the day a coworker and I rolled over to see if we could say hi to folks I haven't seen in a while- maybe Jeremy or Kyle or someone- but they all raced later. Meh.

More than 450 volunteers rolled through our site yesterday, about half from Illinois. After most of the noon volunteers were already out, woman came in solo and I jumped on the opportunity to be her buddy. I knocked probably more than 60 doors with her and didn't find a single McCain voter. Things look good. Honestly, though, being ahead isn't all that beneficial when first-time voters need the motivation of a fight. Our rap now includes, "there will be long lines, bring something to do. I hope you agree that waiting in line is worth it to get our country out of this mess."

On the way home from work last night NPR had a piece about a new Hunter S. biography. I got home, drank heavily, and watched "Where the Buffalo Roam." Hunter S. rocks my socks off.

it only comes every 4 years.

day one of get-out-the-vote. also known as GOTV, but i hate calling it that. the point of acronyms is to save time, ya? if the acronym is as long as the words, what's the point? get out the vote it is.

the sun didn't rise till a good hour after i was hanging out in the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store, helping set up the insides for the expected influx of volunteers. food, tshirts, lit, turf, training. the sun came up, the cars and buses rolled in... more than 800 volunteers smiling and happy, driving as far as 100 miles to knock on doors for their candidate. dedication, embodied, boiled down, with the strongest appearing in one parking lot. excitement!

mid-day came and there were so many volunteers that supplies ran short. i had to run to the main office to get more lit. we ran out of turf- no more doors to knock today. what to do with the volunteers who kept coming? we had to redirect them to other volunteer centers, even though ours was the largest. the volunteers from this site had knocked every door in our wards once already today.

word came down that lines were long at early voting- we need help to keep people around. two carloads went down and we were answering questions, handing out stickers and buttons, and directing people about which line to be in and what ID was needed. police came. the law said 100 feet from the polling site, but the police said 100 feet was two blocks away. their union had endorsed the other. it was walk away or face more hassle, and the intimidation of 5 large white guys in uniform were hurting voting more than anything, so we left. we were within our rights, but our rights mattered less than making sure folks felt comfortable standing there in line.

back to the grocery store where volunteers were still flooding in, and we kept redirecting. we talked about how it was a good problem to have. we should be prepared for tomorrow's crowd. from here on out though, turning out the volunteers is my responsibility and if we go from too many to too few, it's on my shoulders. even with the numbers we got today, nearly 50% of our signed-up volunteers were no-shows. i hope we beat that tomorrow. no pressure, right?