newenglandcross.com

not racing

Sat, 4 Oct 2008 20:25:10 -0400

Hello, we are home for the weekend, which is nice. We are supposed to be working on our basement this weekend. We haven’t yet. Oops.

Since we were extra phlegmy and snotty, we bailed on the Friday night Dinner Club dinner and went to bed early. We slept for TEN glorious hours uninterrupted. No midnight pee. No 2 a.m. switching of beds b/c I’m too hot. No 4 a.m. paw in my face reminding me to snuggle a cat, and give her extra pets.

I don’t think I’ve had this kind of quality sleep in months. MONTHS! I woke up with the kind of enthusiasm for life and bouncy energy that makes my husband hate me. So I split, grabbed an Americano from Northampton Coffee, and went grocery shopping. Shopping that early is great--there is little to no traffic, no people wandering the aisles, and lots and lots of samples. I zoomed home, unpacked and brow beat my poor husband to ride with me again, assuring him that riding made him feel better Thursday, so why not today too???

We had a noonish start time at the family VonGump homestead. We rode cross bikes on the road and hit dirt roads that even JD didn’t know existed. Our lovely group moseyed at times and hit some sections hard, but our mission was to catch leaves as they fell off the trees. I took more pictures.

Gary and I at the start of the ride.

Picking a wheel to stay on for this ride was a no-brainer.

The butt cam delivers some good shots.

Smiles all around today!

Maybe that because we saw so many chicks.

The requisite flat-tire picture.

Dirt!

More dirt!

JD cannot just smile.

My bruise is starting to fade a bit.

So very New England.

The right-hand side of the same road.

When we rolled back to the Gump’s house there were fresh oatmeal chocolate chip cookies waiting for us. I downed two, but JD was darn darn cracked, so we didn’t hang out too long.

Food, a hot tub and a nap were in order when we got home, then I set out to make some mashed potato and turnip yumminess. I used local purple finerlings and local red creamers then mashed in a turnip and garlic for some pop. Damn was it good. I can’t believe how many kinds of potatoes are grown in Western Mass. Crazy! The cobbler, however didn’t turn out so good. Was it because I used soy yogurt instead of soy milk? Was it because I used vegan shortening instead of vegan butter? I dunno. But it sure did suck. Oh well, you win some, ya lose some.

Tomorrow we’d better get some work done on the house. . .Oi.

Thanks Walter, Jay, Paul, Dusty, Gary, Jocelyn and JD for riding with me today. What a perfect, beautiful fall day. I loved every second of it.

xo
m

because i love to ride my bike

Sat, 4 Oct 2008 19:34:21 -0400

It’s harder and harder to ride after work. Yes, there are less hours of light now, and when the light is gone, it’s like the door slammed shut, and then you’re forced to do the Oh Shit TT for Home; no longer does summer’s light dance about the mountain and tree tops for an hour giving you warning that it’s time to head back.

Thursday after work JD and I were sitting on the couch, blowing our noses and feeling rather crappy. My allergies are in their third week of fun, and JD is a hacking snotting mess as well. Neither of us felt like riding, but really it is riding that usually moves the snot out the best. And besides, we were given a sign that we were supposed to ride.

We checked Bob’s site and found that they were mountain biking on the Greenfield Ridge and through Poet’s Seat that night. It sounded way more fun than a road ride, so we topped off our lights, packed our bags and drove on up.

We met up with more people than we expected--all hearty souls looking for a little fun--and hit the trails a little after six. It looked like it was going to be a great ride.

The group was great--just the right pace and just the right sense of humour. I hooted and hollered and laughed and giggled. I felt great and rode like a superstar for some sections, then pussed out on some. But most importantly, I had fun because really, I love to ride my bike. Total freaking jacked up JOY. I sprinted after Shiza. I pulled a crazy pass on Curtie. I overcooked a corner and wound up in the brush. I blinded everyone by taking pictures. Fun. Fun! FUN!!! Holy crap fun. JD and I both blew about five pounds of snot out and suddenly we could hear again. It was lovely. We treated ourselves to Mexican food for dinner and still got home in time to watch the debate.

It’s so important to ride for fun--I struggle with that during race season. I go so much faster when I’m riding than when I’m racing. It’s funny. Back in the day I used to be a better racer than rider and now it seems to have flipped. Bummer. Oh well, at least I can still rip it in the group rides. . .

reason #1057 why i love teaching

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 20:03:15 -0400

So I’m teaching Antigone to my juniors, and we are reading it aloud and sort-of acting it out in class so I can stop and paraphrase spots for them. One of my lovely juniors was reading the part of Creon and as he was reading a speech, I was struck by Creon’s words:

“and if any makes a friend of more account than his fatherland, that man hath no place in my regard.”

My ears perked up, I paused my student reader and asked them to paraphrase what Creon said and what he meant.

Then I asked if what Creon was saying sounded vaguely like a current campaign slogan.

As we discussed Creon, McCain and the language of campaigns and leaders, I wondered if McCain’s strategists realized that “Country First” was the same sentiment held by a Greek antagonist. I wondered if they realized how that all worked out for good old Creon.

I love literary moments like these, but I have to admit, my favorite literary moment was teaching The Scarlet Letter during the Monica Lewinski scandal.

pensive contemplation

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 16:41:57 -0400

In my last post I mentioned that cyclocross season is a bit bittersweet, but I never explained the bitter, only the sweet. Each race weekend has a moment of pensive contemplation. Sometimes this occurs on the starting line, unless Gunnar makes fun of me for looking too serious. Sometimes it occurs in the car with my headphones deafening me as I pin on a multitude of numbers with ever numbing fingers. This weekend it occurred when I hit the ground with my face a split second after tap tap tapping my brakes to correct my over eager speed into a sweeping corner that wasn’t really that sweeping.

When my face hit the ground with my cheekbone first, then my neck snapped back up my first thought was, “I never crash. What the hell am I doing on the ground?” Then I thought, “Why do I do this again? I could really get hurt.”

I jumped up, straightened out my brake levers and then realized I was in last place when I hit the deck, now I’m in really really last place, so maybe I should head back to registration and get my face checked out. I wandered around for a little bit, my head ringing, until I heard people cheering. Oh look! A bike race!

Eric Marro noticed me randomly standing off to the side and came over to figure out what I was doing, exactly. He then escorted me to the medical tent. The nice lady at the medical tent asked me some questions, and she stymied me when she asked me what time it was. I almost bawled b/c I didn’t know what freaking time it was.

After a half hour, the nice medic felt better about releasing me w/o making me go to the hospital.

Long story short--my head and neck were fine Sunday, but my ribs were and are owie, and I’m sporting a nice deep bruise from my shift lever.

Sunday’s race went better. I actually raced a bit b/c goddam Steph White was push push pushing me. She should always race near me! Geez! I’m still not willing to redline myself, but I’ve now gotten out of the saddle twice off the starting line.

Baby steps. Okay?

So Saturday I was down and quitting cross forever and Sunday I was up and planning the next month of racing. The ups and downs are hard on me mentally, but maybe they’ll help me be more realistic about choosing my races wisely i.e. not tossing my money down the shitter by racing Gloucester.

The Dutch Hammer is currently leading our little series--3-2. I tried to explain to her the basics of the old Challah Bowl, Dieter vs. Pookums series, but she just started at me blankly.

I don’t think she reads blogs.

She does, however, find it amusing that no one knows she is Michelle Kersbergen, but everyone knows she is The Dutch Hammer.

cross culture

Sat, 27 Sep 2008 09:25:31 -0400

The school year has settled into a comfortable albeit frantic routine: up at 5ish, clean kitchen, throw in laundry, feed cats, scoop poop, drive to work, pick up DD, grade papers, photocopy papers, students arrive early and want to chat, bell rings, class begins, class ends, make allergy tea, find time to pee, school ends, drive home, nap, ride, eat, bed by 9.

Sometimes a routine makes it difficult to fit in other activities, like planting the beautiful mums my mother-in-law got for me.

The return of cross racing on the weekends means the beginning of another routine, one that is bittersweet. I love cross, and I love its people. They are people that bring my joy and people that I look forward to see week in and week out.

Even you Gunnar.

Last week’s races were no exception. Pictured above is Brant, the big winner of the fast old guys race. I had the pleasure of meeting Brant’s parents at the race, and I now know where he gets his grace and charm--both his mother and father were just as kind and interesting as can be. Brant is one of those people that I only really see during cross season. He’s a part of the cross culture that I love so much.

Suckerbrook was the next day, and there I got to re-connect with Brenda Bahnson, a perennial favorite of mine. Sue McLean kicked my ass that day. I won’t tell you how much older she is than I, but I will tell you how inspirational she is to me. These New England women are just two representatives of the people I consider vital to my cross experience. Lisa Vible and Tammy Ebersol are their Midatlantic counter-parts, but Lisa won’t be racing this year, last year we lost Lisa Most to mommy-hood, and each year I struggle with the decision to race again or not.

Conversely, each year there are new people that add to my culture of cross, and as I age--gracefully I might add--it is nice to know there is an up-and-coming generation who are just as in love with cross and its people as I am. It’s nice to know the sport will continue to grow and evolve and that those who will grow it will, in turn, mature inter-woven in the culture.

Linnea and Colin, Alex J, Natasha, and the Cambridge team are some of the folks that I look to with excitement and awe. These folks are not the type of people who just show up and race. These folks DO and CREATE and BUILD.

If you have the opportunity to purchase Embrocation magazine, please do so. It is $20, and please don’t complain that it is expensive.

As I flipped through my recent purchase, I had to remember to blink. The format is beautiful and well thought-out. The images are thoughtful, tense and elegant. The typography is done with the kind of perfection that reminds me that typography selection is a gift I don’t have.

Embrocation magazine reminds me of Bike magazine when it first came out. It focuses on the culture and the love more so than the parts and the tires. Not that I dislike the other new cyclocross-based magazine. It has its place, just like Bicycling magazine has its place.

To the next generation of the cross culture, thank you. You are remarkable people.