Sham Rock On!

I have a shoe attatched to one of my bike pedals right now. I have a special pair of shoes that does that, and it all works very nicely when I am also attached to my shoes. Clipless pedal systems are great for power transfer and efficiency, not so great when they won't clip out. Which is precisely what happened this morning when I tried to get off my bike after riding to class. In retrospect, I had been having trouble clipping out on my right for a while; I fell at the top of Port Republic on Friday. It was pretty funny. Having to take off my shoe and leave it on the bike when I locked it up was not such a side-splitter though. I'm glad that road cycling tomorrow is in the shop, so I can have Tim show me how to fix it. Anyway, this past weekend was a fairly eventful one, both in terms of fitness and also in general good times.

The Shamrock Half was on Sunday, and it was everything that I'd hoped it would be. Jared and I headed out for a full blown race weekend experience on Friday afternoon. Prior to heading out at 4:30, Chris and I hit the road for a thirty mile ride; it began fairly chilly, just barely fifty degrees. Still, after a little sprint through campus the only things that were feeling the cold were our fingertips and ears. It was gorgeous out, with little less than a light headwind to slow us down. The route took us through the town of Dayton, down Dry River Road, and finally back to Harrisonburg via Route 33. The ride was very organic, with no planning at all; we just rode. Serendipitously, Sacha appeared in our parking lot and accompanied us to a post-ride carbo load at Vietopia. It was heaven.

The drive down to the coast with Jared had very few bumps, aside from one missed exit and a little backtracking we ended up at Cliff's house essentially on time. We were greeted at the door by my fairly inebriated friend and led to the kitchen table, three more drunken faces, and several bottles of wine. I think Jared was a little taken aback by the ease in which we were treated like part of the family, but it took all of two seconds before we were both grinning ear to ear. It was definitely a portent of the good times that were to come over the next seventy-twoish hours. We polished off a few glasses and got acquainted before the oldsters got to bed and we headed out the door to give Jared his first taste of gay nightlife.

I'd built up the first encouter probably a little bit too much for Jared prior to getting there. He's a pretty churchy guy, definitely conservative, but I think he figured out that I wasn't going to take "no" for an answer and agreed to a night out on the town. It's good, because we would've dragged him out kicking and screaming if he'd said no. Anyway, Virginia Beach doesn't have much of a gay scene. We hit two bars, one of which was exceedingly sketchy and whose name escapes me. I'll just call it "The Manhole" for fun. The other was much more congenial and had a very fun atmosphere, and was called "The Rainbow Cactus".

For one reason or another, both bars had Western themes. The Manhole was definitely more of a bar, with a crumby little dancing stage with a few erratic go-go types. One was most certainly a drag queen minus the drag, the other seemed to have an affinity for flailing around and calling that dancing. Probably a meth queen. Of course, no seedy gay bar is complete without a quiet, sixty year old man staring out from a dimly lit corner. It was absolute heaven! We had a few drinks and waxed philosophic (read: judged everyone who walked in the door) while I did my best to break Jared out of his stupor. But for one or two instances of two men dancing together, we could have been at any crappy bar. Not the case with "The Rainbow Cactus".

Following a brief sojurn out to CVS to get some cash, as well as my brief stint in public urination (still haven't been arrested whooooooo!), we made our way to bar #2. Definitely had a good feel to it, many more young people there, most of them infinitely more attractive than the patrons at the previous establishment. Ohhh. And there were drag queens. I'm not exactly a patron of drag, but damn if that wasn't a really good show. I'm probably just biased though, because the second song out on the dance floor was "Single Ladies". Coupled with my slight buzz...let's just say "Dance Machine" doesn't even do it justice. A few other highlights from the night include the group of senior citizens sitting squarely next to the dance floor, and mine and Cliff's subsequent rescue of two drunken old ladies who fell out of their seats. Sadly, Jared never joined us on the dance floor. Epic fail. Ohh well, baby steps right?

Woke up the latest of the bunch at 9:30 on Saturday morning with a slight headache and got to fumble with a strangely complicated shower. Once in a blue moon I find a shower aparatus that stumps me for a good two or three minutes, generally ending with my near scalding/hypothermia. Afterwards it was gravy. Jared, who had never been to Virginia Beach, and I decided to head out to the beach and take in some sights, as well as picking up our packets from the convention center. Afterwards, we took something like a three hour lunch at a nifty hole in the wall bar with one cook. The jury's still out on the clam chowder. Of course, the crowning achievement of the day was the twenty five mile bike tour of the city and surrounding suburbs, hitting various historical landmarks from Cliff's life and childhood. We got lost a bit, and ended up doing some pretty hairy urban riding, but all in all definitely an adventure. Tied for best part of the ride was the sweet national park we rode through, or the extremely bitchy woman we met outside the food lion. Or the fact that all twenty five miles were completed on a shiny red cruiser with a forty pound frame.

Our day ended like all good days should end, with good food and good drink and an open fire. I slept like a rock, which was good since we had to be up at 5:00 AM the next morning for the half. Surprisingly, I woke up the spryest of the young guys, with Jared moaning about how he had to do this all the time student teaching (and yet still had trouble doing it), and Cliff taking his sweet time as usual crawling out of bed. I downed some fruit, granola, and oatmeal with brown sugar before pinning on my bib and hopping out into the cold air. A short ride to the boardwalk, and we scattered off to our different corrals. Ohh, so a short explanation of the race.

Runners are seperated into corrals, which really are exactly like you'd think: holding pens for all of us until the race starts. There are five corrals in total, segregated by our estimated race time. I was the only one in the first corral, with a race time of around 1 hour 45 minutes. Jared was in the second, Cliff and his dad Rex were in the fifth. Since most of our group had already scattered, Cliff, Jared, and I agreed upon a rendevouz point and headed off to the start.

My corral was populated by all the elite runners. Most of them were tricked out in full marathon regalia like belts and ironman jerseys and such. I began feeling a little out of my depth, but excited. The air practically buzzed. There really is nothing like the exhale before the start of a race. I soon saw that I really did belong in the front after a few miles had gone by and I realized that I wasn't breathing anything like the other runners around me. In fact, I never really went beyond a little deep breathing for the entire race. The course was absolutely beautiful, beginning in the city and taking us through a pine forest and eventually rouding into Fort Story and putting us abreast the coast. As usual, the last few miles of the race really seemed to crawl. To call them exceptionally difficult wouldn't have been true. I hurt a bit, sure, but I distinctly remembered hurting more from much shorter runs in the past. I could tell that I had trained correctly for the race. I ended strong near the front of the pack, well in front of everyone else in our group.

Jared finished about twelve minutes after me, with Rex pulling a surprising 2 hour finish time. Cliff rounded it off at 2 hours fifteen, impressive considering he'd never done more than eight miles and hadn't run for almost a month. After we collected ourselves at the beach, we headed into the tent for some food, and of course, beer. A lot of strangers gave us their beer tickets, so I ended up downing eight pints or so before we left the beach. Drinking after a long run is a funny thing; with your blood volume so low afterwards, a few drinks can be all it takes to bring you down. Let's just say I was pretty happy when I poured myself into the car afterwards. We ended up at an authentic Irish bar for one last drink, before heading back to the Hamaker's for one last small gathering. Food was epic, company was epic.

I'd like to close off an incredibly long, and probably quite dull, post with a declaration of thanks for our hosts. Thanks Rex and Lisa for letting us into your home and feeding us and entertaining us, and most of all for making us feel like family. I will most certainly be taking you up on your offer of a return visit sometime in the future. As for you Cliff, I can't fit enough "thank you'"s on this blog, but trust and believe, I'll be returning the favor.

Peace out, Hombres!

Some Housekeeping

The day is fast approaching when I get to see just how out of riding shape I and my bike are. Today I had my first day of Road Cycling; the class was consigned to a quick run down of the syllabus, a questions sesh, and a brief meet and greet. Pretty standard. The class is big, considerably bigger than mountain biking, with about twenty people in attendance. I'm looking forward to some group riding, and the inevitable mishaps that occur because of them. Hopefully there's no gnarly road rash in any of our futures, or worse. I have to admit that I spent the start of the class sizing everyone up and comparing myself to them. It's hard to gauge everyone's ability or experience, but I sincerely doubt I'll be the fastest person. I hope I'm not, anyway. The men are all powerfully built, athletic looking sorts, so assuming they're on actual roadbikes and not mountain or hybrids, they'll all probably be good contenders. A few of the women seem to have some significant experience, or at least the right equipment. It'll be nice not being the only one in span and chams. We all love to dress the part, but techy clothing does not a good cyclist make, afterall.

My legs have been bothering me a bit recently. I suspect that running on the beach did that, although I couldn't say for sure. In either case, they haven't hindered my running much but I worry about whether they'll be able to crank out the watts in a pinch. My bike's as big a problem. I've been meaning to give it some love for a long time now, what with the rear hub rattling in protest everytime I take it out. The chain also likes to scream at me every so often, and doubtless the crank and casette should've been replaced about a thousand miles ago. If my bike were my boyfriend, I'd definitely get in some serious trouble for domestic abuse or neglect. It's with a blend of reverence, apathy, and lack of free time and money that I've rationalized not taking the bike to a shop.

I really can't believe I'm still riding Jonas at all; I feel like I should have him bronzed and hung up on a wall. A loving caption beneath reading, "The Bike I Conquered The Country On", or something to that effect. He's a year old, maybe, and he has six thousand miles on him. Six thousand... God. More than some-many-people will bike in their lifetime, more than some people have traveled, by car even. And it's funny; some people, a lot of people, will think that this makes me a good cyclist. Maybe I am. All I know is that I love it, a lot. The fact is, I'll probably get dropped by guys and girls who've ridden a fraction as much. And I cannot wait; good things on the horizon, not the least of which is Shamrock Half on Sunday.

We're heading out towards VA Beach first thing...well, as soon as Jared gets out of school and gets back to Harrisonburg. From there, it's just a few measley hours 'till we're on the coast and heading towards what I'm told is the crappiest gay bar in the world. I'm looking forward to judging it against what are considered good ones. I've never really warmed to the experience, since I am a terrible dancer and have on at least one ocassion been kicked out of a bar. A word of caution to any of you reading: don't dance with a drag queen when she's putting on a show. They don't like it. That said, it's fun to make out with the ocassional stranger that you usually can't see very well while you're trying not to step on him. It's also going to be really fun putting Jared into that environment. I've let him know that he's going, like it or not.

Ohh yeah, and the running should prove to be lots of fun as well. If I were to make a guess as to what the ranking will be... Jared will beat me by virtue of his longer stride, I will beat Cliff by virtue of my better fitness, and Cliff will maybe not even finish by virtue of the fact that he hasn't trained propperly. In any case, we're going to eat really well. Hopefully Jackie will also join us for the evening, and we can spend the remainder of our Sunday cheering her and Zach on. And getting wasted. I love it when your blood volume is so low that you're slammed after a few beers.

Well, there you go. Life is good and the cotton is high, baby. Now all I've gotta do is make it to graduation. Peace out, hombres!

Mid-Atlantic Climate is Stupid

Still cold here, sadly. I have to admit one of the reasons I'm looking forward to getting out of Virginia is that I really, really don't like its climate in the winter. And yes, anyone from the Northeast will remind me that winters are in fact very mild here. I'm aware. Despite this fact, I cannot stand the fickleness of the weather during the months of February and March. Temperatures like to ricochet between 15 and 70 degrees, usually with only a day between those two extremes. And that's all well and good, but I am frail. I get sick a lot, and alternating temperature extremes do nothing to help me in that fact. Plus, it's just such a tease. If winter could kindly stay winter and spring could stay springy, I'd be really happy. Besides that, I think I'm just over seasons in general. I'll take the eternal summer/springtime of California, please!

That rant aside, a fair amount of developments since January's post. I've gone and gotten myself employed after graduation. Well, the word employed should have quotation marks around it; I wouldn't go so far as to call it a career. I've been hired to lead an adventure trip in the pacific northwest with a few other outdoor enthusiasts. We're hitting British Columbia, Washington, and Oregon over the course of five weeks. We'll be doing a number of different activities, kayaaking and mountain biking and lots of backpacking among them, and I'll be getting two thousand dollars. I also think the experience will serve me well for a future in the outdoor adventure industry. More importantly, the job begins fairly late in the summer and allows me time to complete my Canada to Mexico tour with Katharine. In my opinion, it's the best of both worlds.

Besides that five week stint, I'm looking into an apprenticeship with a company based in Virginia that would greatly increase my job marketability in the outdoor rec industry. It's a pretty sweet gig, and would occupy me from the end of my August job until mid November. The major failing is that it would place me back in Virginia, the very state I am doing my best to escape. It's not that I have a serious hatred for VA, but I feel as though I need to stretch my legs in some new scenery. The fact remains, there are better places to break into the outdoor industry. I'm fairly certain that those will be the jobs I'm pursuing for at least a few years after graduation. But who knows?

That said, with the excitement of the future, the present has somewhat been reduced to a holding station until graduation. Wintertime as usual has curtailed my cycling, and training in general, considerably. Those few freakishly warm days were spent on the back of a bicycle, and there have of course been plenty of hours logged in on the yellow stationaries in UREC. I've been intermittently devoting myself to running, as I have a half marathon coming up later in March. It's been hard, however; constant running is taxing on the body and the mind, and I really enjoy running! We won't even talk about swimming...let's just say I probably won't drown. Probably.

By 8:30 tonight, I will have completed my outdoor ed course. We culminated the whole experience last weekend with a three day, two night backpacking and backcountry camping trip. I found the experience much like I find every little forray into the wilderness: cathartic, relaxing, educational. I loved every second of it, even while I was huddled in my zero degree sleeping bag in the snow. I'm convinced that every person alive, no matter how sheltered or cosmopolitan, should spend a few days out in the woods. Nothing will help you better to make sense of the chaos of your everyday life, or help you realize how trivial the majority of your problems are. Nothing makes the creaure comforts sweeter, either. I learned so much about myself and others, and I am a little sad to see the experience over with. But the end is the beginning is the end, you know?

I'll be finishing up the second half of the semester in Road Cycling. A number of friends I made during Mountain Biking last semester will be taking the road course, many of them rank novices in the sport. I'm really looking forward to the inevitable falls from clipless pedal failure, and of course fine tuning my routes in the valley. I'm also curious to see if there's anything in regards to repair and technique that I can pick up during those eight weeks. In either case, it will be an extremely good time, and exactly the way that I'd like to leave my college experience behind.

Thanks everyone, for reading! I'm not sure when the next big moment in my life will come around. For certain, you can expect some poorly shot photos of the northwest coastline to get up here sometime, either when I start my job or during the Canada to Mexico trip. Summer 2009 will be one to remember, of that I'm quite certain!

Cheers, and Peace Out Hombres,

Mark