Z-less

It's now Saturday afternoon. Four of the six stages have come and gone, all leaving their invisible marks and scars on my internals; lungs, legs, arteries. The time trial was this morning. I got all super-duded and had a phenomenal warm up. In the TT, looking fast actually does often equate to going fast. And boy did I look like speed.

I went out way too hard. Way. That's happened so many times in the past I have lost count, and at least this time I managed to limit the damage and recover to finish well. My time was somewhere around fourteen and a half minutes for the 6.6 mile course... sounds decent, but the winning time is likely below thirteen. Bummer to have good legs and not perform to your maximum. Story of the year.

Regardless, my mind keeps pogo-ing back and forth between negativity and optimism. I am pleased to be 'in the mix' this year, but am also frustrated to be lacking that confidence; the type of confidence that one obtains from always 'being in the mix', unfortunately, is temporarily beyond my grasp. This race should prep me well (mentally and physically) for the Twilight Criterium next weekend in Boise. Big money this year. I had to watch last year's event from the curb, having hung my bike up during Cascade 2005. So glad the tide is different now.

This is a difficult time in longer stage races. Your brain is tired but sleep evades you. Your body is depleted but your stomach is boycotting and has extinguished your appetite. I can only imagine what the Tour de France riders experience, averaging around 4000 calories burned per day during exercise... three weeks straight. Sheesh, no wonder so many go home due to 'gastro-intestinal distress' and pure exhaustion. Toughies.

That's all I can muster for now. I should be stretching, sleeping, eating, or preparing my bike for this evening's criterium. Perhaps I'll read for a while. I apologize for such a boring blog.

Here, and not.

I am at the Cascade Classic in Bend, Oregon, attempting to mix it up with the big kids. So far it's going well, though frustrating, since I've wonderful fitness but terrible strategy and have blown it in both stages. The beauty in such stage races is that there remains four opportunities to 'get it right', and just maybe I'll be able to pop a good result against these yahoos.

Yes, bikes are good, though to be honest my mental energy is elsewhere right now. A few days back Lauren came down from McCall (camp Alice Pittenger - Girl Scouts) to have an MRI performed on her back, and to receive steroidal injections into the L4 and L5 surrounding muscle tissue. She's been in pain for quite some time, and the physical therapy she underwent (aimed at rehabilitating a bulging disc) had little effect. So... Monday was the MRI, which actually revealed zero disc bulge, but she went ahead with the injections (epidural style) to reduce inflammation and hopefully alleviate the pinched-nerve sensations for good. OK, good, end of procedure see you in a few months....

Doctor calls her the next evening (Tuesday evening, hours before she planned to return to McCall), to announce that the radiologist spotted a curious discoloration near the lower aorta, apparently down near the upper stomach. The color, the doctor explained, was a loose 'fluid' that, of course, should definitely NOT be there. Shit hits the fan, Lauren's spooked, the doctor calls her in for an emergency CT scan, and meanwhile I'm 335 miles away pedaling my bicycle in a silly race.

CT scan reveals nothing, though the doctor explains that such free-fluid-that-shouldn't-be-there caused such alarm because, typically, it is the byproduct of a growth, cyst, tumor, what have you. Lauren's still freaked. Lauren's doctor stresses that the CT scan revealed no such growth, but returns to the radiologist to further discuss the mystery-fluid in her MRI. So, as of now, they have no freaking idea what caused (is causing?) the fluid, but they are 'reasonably sure' it's not a tumor and Lauren has for the time being been placated and calmed.

I have not. Thank goodness Lauren hardly ever reads this (she abhors email, see Luddite), for I fear that my apprehension would only feed her worries. I know this sounds mushy, but I'd come unraveled if anything happened to her. After living with Jason and watching him go from a healthy gent in his late twenties to a full-blow battler of cancer within a few months... I don't know.

That's it. Reporting on the racing seems shallow at the moment so I'll hold off.