With a Bang and a Whimper

2012 taught me I suck at Blogging.  Maybe for 2013 I'll make it a resolution to do better.  Or maybe I'll stay sporadic with all of this.  
But, at the year ends, it is only natural to desire retrospectives and attempts at meaning.  So, with great thanks to Atis from whom I stole this, here is a guide to the year that was 2012 and that will be 2013... 

1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?

Trying to think of some epic firsts... but lets see.  I raced in Colorado, I got out of the Marine Corps, I let someone take care of me when I was hurt, I saw a meteor shower, I went back to school.  Nothing screams "OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE I DID THAT, IT WAS AWESOME" but all in all it was an accomplishment.  

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I kept about 1/3 of the ones I made for 2012.  2 of them are gonna have to hold over for 2013.  Other than that, I haven't thought too much about my 2013 ones, other than possibly communicate better with my coach (since I suck at it) and getting published again. 

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

My cousin, this year.  My sister at the very end of 2011

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Give my previous line of work, I sadly loose someone who meant something to be more often than I would like. 

5. What countries/states did you visit?

I went on far too many road trips, encompassing South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New York, New Jersey, Vermont, West Virginia, Ohio, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, Michigan, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, California.  Done with car trips for the year (maybe 2013 is the year of none)

For work, I'll go by continents... North and South America, Europe, Asia... yea, that covers it enough... 

   

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?

An idea of a job for when I'm done with school... 

7. What dates from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

May 15 - I got out of the Marine Corps

May 20 - I broke my arm 

June 10 - my first outside ride in Colorado

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Professionally, I transitioned out of the Marine Corps and became a Sie Fellow at the Korbel School at University of Denver.  

Personally, I completed, with arguable decent results, all NRC/NCC races I entered, despite a broken arm, cross country move and beginning to live at altitude. 

9. What was your biggest failure?

Burning bacon on a few occasions.  

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I broke my arm (see above).  Pretty much worst timing ever too.... 

But I got a cool purple cast that matched my kit when I was able to ride again. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?

The Venge

Or the Mountain Bike

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

The PhD for whom I am a research assistant, Dr. Erica Chenoweth.  She won a kick-ass award and I am lucky to get to work with her.  

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

99% of the politicians.  From negative ads, to attacks on women and other groups, I am glad to be out of the Washington world. 

14. Where did most of your money go?

Bikes, moving.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Starting a new adventure as a student, in an incredibly awesome state. I am surrounded by great mentors and advisors and am excited about the potential for my future.  

I am also lucky to be in the company of the greatest man ever, and am incredibly excited about his future as a new bike shop owner.

16. What song will always remind you of 2012?

Call Me Maybe.  Or maybe Mana-Mana 

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Happier
b) thinner or fatter? Thinner
c) richer or poorer? Monetarily poorer... student life isn't exactly prosperous.  But personally, much richer

   

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Writing and Reading.  Never seems to be enough time for that. 

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Fretting about what people thought about my decisions.  I made some huge life decisions - professionally, personally and athletically.  I know not everyone agreed with them, and I spent a lot of time worrying that I was a disappointment. But I've found peace and happiness, so it's worth it. 

20. How did you spend Christmas?

My sister's house in Cali.

21. What was your favorite TV program?

We recently got an Apple TV... so Battle Star Galactia.  Currently running, however, would be Big Bang Theory

  

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Only the VA as an organization.  Other than that, I hate no one or nothing. 

23. What was the best book you read?

Professionally, Who Governs the Globe?

Personally, I'll throw a shout out to a friend.  I loved both War of the Seasons (now write #3!!!)

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

A crazy small bluegrass band at a friend's wedding. 

25. What did you want and get?

New bike.  School Fellowship

26. What did you want and not get?

My house was denied a sale on a short sale.  Instead I lost more than a year's salary on it. 

27. What was your favorite film of this year?

Argo.  Best movie I've ever seen.

28. What did you do on your birthday?

I was in Colorado for Discover Korbel.  I raced Boulder Roubaix and had dinner with my mom and sister and niece.   

29. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Getting to race Liberty Classic.  The broken arm was the week prior... 

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?

Everything from classic professional to spandex this year.  

31. What kept you sane?

Racing my bike, and playing with the adorable Jack Russels that are now a member of my family. 

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I wish I had a celebrity crush. But in the cycling world, I'm incredibly impressed with the work that Joe D and Evie Stevens did.  

Shannon Galpin's work is an inspiration from a mix of professional desires and personal passion. 

33. What political issue stirred you the most?

I found it very interesting how women were portrayed in this election - by both sides.  All I have to say is I look forward to the day when society calls women who pursued careers they believed in role models rather than disappointments to womanhood, and women who are successful inspirations rather than bitches.  As long as we're seen as an issue rather than valuable and necessary participants in society, however, this will never happen. 

  

34. Who did you miss?

All my DC friends... 

35. Who was the best new person you met?

Andy :)

36. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012:

The world needs status quo breakers.  The world needs passionate dreamers.  The world needs souls willing to create the new paradigm.  Being this person is hard.  But hopefully worth it. 

2012 came and went.  And 2013 will inevitably begin.  As everyone looks to the superlatives this time of year, I am reminded of T.S. Elliot, and the end of his poem "The Hallow Men."     

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

For 2013 I will challenge myself to live with enough bangs, that the end will inevitably seem like a whimper in retrospect.  

Go World

I love the Olympics.  Everything about them.  I love that despite the deep political and social divisions wracking our country right now we can join together and cheer with a rancorous "USA USA" as our Nation's representatives push themselves to victory.  I love the spotlight brought upon the more obscure sports - archery, trampoline, shooting, etc - and those who dedicate their lives to perfection are, for a moment, rewarded with the eyes of the world.  It's the time when it's perfectly acceptable for a 300 pound man to cry his eyes out, and a 100 pound girl to hold us all on her shoulders.  It is truly magical.

Throughout the Olympics, we hear the word "fearless" over and over, as well.  And this strikes a chord.  Outsides often tell me I "must be fearless."  Whether it's for flying combat missions, breaking barriers in womens' roles, ice climbing, racing my bike, it gets thrown around a lot.  So hearing commentators throw the word around throughout coverage of the games got my ears perked up and me to reflecting on what truly is fearless about these games.  Sure, anyone getting up and competing on the international stage is fearless.  Balancing the real world with following your dream is fearless.  Making a game winning play, bridging to the race winning break, sticking the perfect landing require an athlete to shove fear to the dark recesses of the mind where they can't see the light of day.  Sport psychologists have spent years evaluating the minds of champions, and their ability to do this; but this is not the fearlessness that I have found inspiring in these games.  Look beyond the shimmer of the podium, and there you will see fearlessness.

Fearless is the women getting a cancer diagnosis today who watched Amber Neben race and decides not to sell her bike.  Fearless is Aurora, CO trading coverage of the acts of a despicable human being for the smiles and joy of Missy Franklin.  Fearless is the girl who finds her way off the streets and into the gym after watching the Fab 5.  Fearless is the teenager standing up to her molester after watching Kayla Harrison come forward with her story.  Fearless is the 10 year old an Kabul, or Doha, or Tripoli who puts on running shoes for the first time after seeing their country women line up toe to toe with the best in the world.  Fearless is training for the marathon on a 2 miles circuit because it is the only place in your country where you know you are safe from land mines.  Fearless is trusting a teammate with whom you were once engaged in civil war. 

Fearless is that once every four years the world can come together and respect hard work, discipline, and dedication.  Fearless is admitting that I (who cry and nothing) got a little misty watching Tahmina Kohistani take the starting blocks this morning, because maybe the fearlessness of one woman helped spark the fearlessness of another. 


Go Fearless.  Go World. 

I do, in fact, have it all

"Having it all."  There's been a lot of talk about this lately.  I've had numerous people send me Anne-Marie Slaughter's article.  Some just out of curious inquiries as to my thoughts, some with a "see-I-told-you-so" smugness.  And today's announcement of Marissa Mayer - a pregnant women - being named Yahoo!'s CEO sent my inbox all a twitter again with "what do you think about that?!?!"s.  The first round of all of this, in response to Slaughter's unsolicited open letter of advice to all female professionals left me a little amused.  And honestly wanting to talk about it with a few of the [more respectful] pings to my inbox.  But this second round has left me a tad annoyed.  And pondering the definition of "having it all."

Who decided that "it all" included being a wife and mother?  And that those who were not were intrinsically lacking some gene and therefore not complete or satisfactory as a woman?  And, more importantly, when did become socially acceptable to use this idea of "it all" as a lens through which every woman over the age of 30 must be viewed?  In an age where we tote ourselves on being socially accepting of all creeds, colors and lifestyles, society still judges the childless as somehow sub-par or unfulfilled.  Having children is a choice.  I respect those who choose it.  But it's not my choice.  So, to my friends with children, before you assert "you'll understand when you have kids" to someone, take a moment and consider what they may ask you.

I have never asserted to my stay at home mother friends "oh you'll understand when you go to war."  Or when their husbands annoy them "oh you'll understand when you don't have one."  These are choices I've made.  Not choices I impose on others.  Nor a lens through which I view them.

It's 2012.  And about time the June Cleaver ideal of "it all" is in need of change. 

At no time when I was flying Cobras did I think, "gee, a baby would make things better right now."  So I guess I've already failed at having it all.  I should have given up there.  Not pursued further professional qualifications in the Cobra.  And I definitely shouldn't have pursued my job at the liaison office.  Or racing bikes.  Because those long hours in the office, work trips, and training rides would interfere with pregnancies, feedings and soccer games.  Again.  Failure at "it all."

However what if I were to argue that, I do, in fact "have it all."  Because I have a man who loves me as much as I love him.  And we're equal partners.  And I have a career in the Marines I can look back on with pride, as I served my country well.  I am a part of one of the primer graduate programs in the country.  I line up against the best women in the country on the bike (and sometimes men) several times a week.  I have childless girlfriends who are PhDs, scientists, artists, lawyers, doctors, ambassadors.  They race bikes, row boats, climb mountains.  They are published authors and business owners.  And while our conversations wander into the "what if" or the "I want" parts of life, it is never a lament about how we're missing something, but a celebration of how we are going to be able to cram more into "it all."

I am not disparaging those who have made the choice to be domestic.  It is a choice and a noble and necessary pursuit.  But it is not "it all."  It's something.  It's an option.  But those who choose a career or passion are not missing something.

In the past few months, I have spent quite a bit of time pondering what my time in the Marine Corps meant.  I was constantly hounded with questions of sacrifice, and what I had given up to serve.  Yes, I did "give up" quite a bit.  But it was a choice.  Every choice has consequences, and every consequence shapes us.  My consequences have taught me more about what "it all" is.  And what it isn't.

So, for now I'm going to go race my bike.  And pursue my education.  And further my career.  And face every day as a new adventure with my partner.  And wake up thinking, damn, I have it all.           

  

Peas and Carrots

If anything, racing in Colorado is going to make me loose any nerves whatsoever about racing at the national level.  Again, at a local crit I was toeing the line with Exergy, MayMyRide, NOW, Team Type I... and a sundry of former national champions. But for some reason this time I wasn't nervous.  I chatted casually on the line, got a good luck kiss, and held my position on the front row like I belonged there.  The race went off, and in true Colorado fashion there was no "on hey lets just ride around."  The field strung out and splintered in now time, and by lap 5 or 6 we were lapping riders.  The first 10 min or so I had to get my wits about me.  And stop thinking about who's wheel I was sitting on and start thinking about how I was going to move up.  It was about this time that I realized the field had been whittled down to 12-15 women, all wanting to race hard and whittle the field down to 1.  Attack after attack and each was chased down.  It was organized, hard, aggressive.  Everything I want racing to be.  The boy (who had just had an awesome 2nd place finish in his race winning the field sprint) was screaming at me on every lap to move up, do less work, etc etc.  His encouragement  propelled me to get up front and launch a few of my own attacks, win a few primes, and feel like I belonged there.  And then the heavens opened and we raced in a torrential downpour of a thunderstorm.  And the pace didn't lessen, nor the attacks subside.  We dropped a few more riders, and came across the line strung out, soaked and muddy.  I was finally happy again with how I raced.  Would I have liked to have placed higher?  Of course.  But being out here, still not fully acclimated to the altitude, still recovering from a broken bone, knowing I'm strong enough to hang with the ladies out here, and that my aggression is back, I'm exited for the rest of the season.

This morning I was reading some "tips from the pros" blog thing, and the importance of a support network in racing was brought up in a few different ways.  And while it took a broken arm and a 2,000 mile move for me to realize it, I do need this support system.  I have always had an amazing family who I love and to whom owe more debts that I could ever repay.  However it is not until this past injury that I have come to understand what having that rock is all about, and how much it has improved my racing.  And I honestly believe it's one of the reasons I'm back at this whole "I can be a bike racer" thing again.  So, in no particular order, I've come up with a list of reasons why I, the self-asserted most independent and hard-headed person I know, need a pea to my carrot.

- I get faster.  Dudes, here's a piece of advice.  Drop your girlfriends/wives on anything but a recovery ride.  And women, get angry, but not mad when they do.  A huge mental barrier was broken down when I realized "he's trying to drop me because he thinks I can be better" not "he's being an ass, doesn't he realize we're riding together?"  I believe love means pushing each other to be your best, and this doesn't happen in the comfort zone.  (and, by the way, every once and a while I drop him now too.)  Rather than letting me sit on the couch, I was plopped on the trainer. 

-I'm calmer.  This I didn't realize until I was broken.  Now I know I'm intense and Type A and probably a bit over competitive.  But the past few yeas have been so full board go that I never realized how the intensity in both my personal life and work effected my mood daily.  It took me not being able to do anything for myself to be still long enough to realize that there is a strength in calmness. 

- I'm bolder.  Nothing will make you race hard like having your name screamed and someone else investing in you.  When I was down, a huge motivation for me to get racing quickly was the time, money and effort that someone else had put in to my recovery and racing. 

- Breakdowns don't lead to being mentally broken.  At least twice (but probably more now) I've had meltdowns on the bike.  Be it complete exhaustion or a hand that won't cooperate with shifting anymore, my minimeltdowns have been squashed before they were allowed to start.  Apparently there's not crying in training.  Or at least none tolerated.

- I don't have to do it all.  I'm still getting used to the idea that there is someone who wants to help me, and enjoys it.  And anticipates what I may need before I even know.  Whether it's preemptively making another pot of coffee, showing up with a lattee when I'm neck deep in a paper, or changing hubs on race wheels, it really is the little things.

- I remembered why I love racing.

- I'm not judged for how much I eat.

- Laundry gets done (especially since there's so much of it!)  

- And I will stop this before it gets mushy. 

Racing last weekend was awesome.  And it had nothing to do with the result.  And everything to do with realizing the importance of my pea.

Beginning in Denver....

I have been in Colorado for three weeks now.  A whirlwind of driving cross country, unpacking, starting school, starting a job, acclimating to altitude, training, getting a cast off, racing, reading and writing.  My transition from Marine to student is becoming more solidified.  I am never early for anything anymore, and in fact, with the exception of class, subscribe to the tenant that if you're not 15 minutes late, you're early.  I don't make my bed regularly anymore, and have no problem calling anyone I meet by their first name.

However, I have also managed to maintain a fair amount of my Kyishness, as it were.  In the words of my academic adviser, I've taken to academia with "all the grace of a bull driving a tank into an Ivory Tower."  I never was good at making a quiet entrance.  And while the vast amount of reading, and the structure of academic prose-writing are taking some getting used to, I truly am enjoying the subjects and the ability to put the past decade of my life in an academic perspective.  I also relish my schedule that allows me the freedom to drink coffee out of a mug on my couch every morning, ride at the crack of 3pm, grocery shop at non rush-hour, and nap from time to time.  There are days I haven't gotten out of my pajamas until well afternoon, busily typing away, and wondering why I didn't know this life existed sooner.

The same can be said for the training and racing out here.  Unencumbered by city traffic, I don't think I've logged a single "junk mile" since I've arrived.  I can do 70 mile training rides from my front door and only run into one stoplight.  There are stretched allowing me to do 40 continuous minutes of 40/20s (ok, so maybe I hate this fact), and when it gets hot at home, just start riding up and cooler mountain air awaits.  My liberation in Colorado riding may be a bit exaggerated due to the fact that I am finally castless, and feel like bursting out in "Free At Last" song every once and a while.  Being castless also means being able to race again, an admitting slightly frightening prospect as I've been out of the loop for a while.  But if my first experiences here are any indication, racing here will teach me far more than I have learned before.  Rather than the "who wants to pull?  NOT ME!" game that leads to crits averaging 17mph, fields are full of pros, Olympians, and former world champions who are more apt to say "Ok, so who's keeping up?"  Four days out of a cast I hopped in a super technical fast crit, and safely hung out in the pack.  For the first time ever, sitting in was a victory.  Priorities and expectations may have to be shifted slightly, but damn, I love racing my bike with these women.

The move has served me well, as a mist all the change and newness, I am finally making sense of the dualities in me, and allowing them to coexist.  I am in a place where I can train and race hard and know that everyone out there wants to rip my legs off, but still embrace my femininity.  In addition to allowing me the training time I desire, my new schedule has allowed me the flexibility and freedom to be both badass and girly, bullish and soft.  I can beat boys up graveled climbs, snotting over myself, with manicured nails.  I can speak of my experiences flying combat missions while wearing sundresses.  I can line up and race against the best women in the country every weekend, and go home and cook.  The lack of rigidity and structure has allowed me to get to know and love myself, and let myself be fully loved.

Slowing down was not easy.  And there are moments when I miss the comfort of knowing where I'm supposed to be next and when I'm supposed to be there.  It has given me great amounts of sympathy for those who never made the transition fully.  There were many nights crying over what I would do next.  And many days spent searching for sense in a world free from structure.  I am a lucky one in that I crave a sense of adventure, and can't stay planted for too long.  I am also one of the most fortunate in that I have the most incredible partner in adventure a girl could ever ask for.  Every day I am more excited for this new adventure, and more confidant that the decisions of my past were merely building blocks for it. 

Much is still unknown.  I don't know what I want to do when I'm done with school.  I don't know where I want to be when it's all over.  But I know, for now, the mile high city is a good place to start.        
 

Broken

My arm is still broken.  Sadly I'm not, in fact, a wolverine, and will take time to heal.  But the doctor says I'm on track to be riding outside in a week, and racing shortly thereafter.  I'm stuck, in the meantime, on the trainer, whining about life.  Fortunately, the trainer seems to be the only place I do whine.  I am strangely and magically content.  I'm getting taken care of above and beyond anything I deserve.  And my attempts at independence are taken in stride, not ridiculed.  I'll probably escape without loosing too much fitness as well.

We took a distraction trip to NYC last week.  No rules, no agenda, and only toothbrushes were brought.  I ate awesome pastries and spent too much money on shoes.  But there were happy carefree moments that reminded me I'm loved.  I've never been happier to not have a plan.
I leave for CO in a week.  Can't believe it's actually here.  I'm nervous about the logistics, but still content that I'll be ok.
And beside, a cross country move wouldn't be exciting enough if I were healthy.          

Crashing into unsolitude

I've been on a bit of a technology hiatus recently.  Since leaving the office, I have vowed to spend as little time as possible in front of the computer.  Soon enough there will be plenty of computer time.  So I have made it a priority to enjoy sleeping, riding, and coffee shops.  As my technology time has decreased, my numbers on the bike have skyrocketed, and the pesky winter pounds come off.  I've found happiness and solace in place of the anxiety and chaos that was surrounding me.  I have been following my heart a lot the past month.  And it has made me faster, hungrier, and more ambitious.  As May unfolded, I was psyched to race my bike, over the moon about my research fellowship, and feeling very un-alone.  I've been pushed on the bike in ways I never have been (at least on a consistent basis), I have loved the reading I'm doing to get ready for my RA position, and generally just feel happy.
I could go on about the awesome training rides I've done, how great I feel when I get off the bike.  How the magic fit-master gave met a secret 50 watts on the climbs, but no one cares.

I was finally able to test my new found strength and excitement against a strong field this weekend.  The bike got some awesome TLC, I was rested and relaxed, and I was finally getting to race with my teammate Lindsay again.  The race started, fast, and I felt good.  Like the shit-yea-this-is-awesome good feeling.  Breaks went and I brought them back.  And still felt strong.  With about 8 to go I bridged to a move with a Kelly rider that I knew would stick.  I felt strong in the break.  Three of us were working hard and gaining time.  And then all good things come to an end and I was on the ground.  Broken-bone, race-ending on the ground.  Andy and Russ came running over and I yelled at both and possibly hit one telling them to get back to warming up and go race.  I fought the medics, but much to my chagrin, was taken to the ER.  (NOT AGAIN!!!)  And while I was screaming at techs for moving my wrist, breaking Pierre's fingers while the doctor fished around in my shoulder, and nearly passes out when they stuck an injection in the fracture site, an amazing thing happened.  I felt surrounded by people who cared about me.  Friends made me laugh, and my hand was constantly held.  I have been cared for and fawned over since it happened.  I know I'm still capable of doing things on my own and for myself.  But am now assured I don't have to.
My bike has been made trainer ready (ie no shinny white bar tape, sexy wheels or aggressive position), and I've been assured that even with nice weather I'll have company.  I have a wonderful support system of coaches, teammates, mechanics, PTs, and friends.  And a hand to squeeze the daylight out of when things start to hurt a little too much.  And fire in the belly for Aspen and Steamboat Springs           

In which nothing sucked and there were Dragons

So last week (still) didn't work.  And I (still) slept a lot.  And despite some seeming setbacks in life, I can honestly say that nothing sucked about it. 
Some highlights....

I took a roadtrip down south with Monika, raced a road race, and raced up a mountain.  I actually didn't die.  And Monika won said uphill race.  So, goodness abounded.  And we stayed in a cute little resort too.     I also got to follow Lindsay on her Speedweek adventure and awesome success.  I'm so proud and honored to be a part of a team with such amazing talent. 

I spent the week exploring new training grounds.  And I had someone to train with who got great pleasure out of kicking my ass up the worst training hill in history (complete with a cemetery in the middle of it) and yelling at me "STOP, THERE'S A COW IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD".  Yes, a cow.  I am now going to start rating workouts on their cow content and how many times I contemplate killing my training partner if I can catch him. 

And then I went to Bennington.  Where I got to reconnect with Kacey and cram into a tiny motel room with 3 badass (and hot) women to complete the rainbow coalition of a room.  I also raced hard and won a nickname or two.  I'm starting to feel form coming on, and understand what people mean by racing into shape.  I know I'll be ready to start pillaging and crushing when the time comes.  But this weekend reminded me why I love racing bikes.  Why getting called the "pirate space princess" was awesome.  Why having random bike racing strangers feed me ice cream makes me laugh, and why the fact that women are getting stronger and racing more aggressively makes me happy. 

Check out Kacey's blog if you're looking for the metrics of the weekend.  She nailed it.

I'll just keep it at 30....

People like to make lists.  And, in my research for a potential book idea, I came upon one such quintessential list of things that every women should know by age 30.   Many of these I believe, actually most of them.  However, I've added a few of my own.  And I give you to "Ky's list of 30 things every women should know/have by age 30".

1. The security to forgive your parents for everything you hated them for in your teens.
2. Something you do better than every man you know.
3. Something, no matter how menial, that you call someone else to do.
4. Something, no matter how menial, that you refuse to let anyone else do.
5. A secret that you will never ever tell.
6. The ability to keep that secret for someone else.
7. A girlfriend that trumps any date.
8. Something you do weekly for no one other than yourself.
9. A pair of shoes in which you know you can conquer the world.
10. A contact list that includes a go-to job reference who actually knows your name and what you've done.
11. A story that will convince any employer you're the best person for the job.
12. The security to say "no".
13. The confidence to say "yes".
14. A miniskirt.
15. A strand of pearls.
16. Running shoes.
17. Scars....
18. ... and the stories to go with each of them.
19. A solo cross country drive.
20. A restaurant you go to by yourself, with only a book for company.
21. A guilty pleasure.
22. A younger man who convinces you you're years younger than your actual age.
23.  The ability to use "your" and "you're"; "to", "too", and "two"; "its" and "it's"; "their", "they're" and "there" properly.  And proper conjugation of the very "to be."
24. The ability to confront an authority figure when you're right.
25. The ability to admit when you're wrong.
26. A broken heart.  And the knowledge you survived.
27. An accomplishment you unabashedly brag about.
28. Confidence in your religious beliefs, whatever they are.
29. Ten things you wish you could tell your 16 year old self.
30. At least one thing you are still scared of.      

And with that, it is time for another Leap

Today I woke up knowing that I will never again go to work as an active duty Marine.  It's a day that has been looming out there like some elusive carrot for several months.  It is the culmination of some thing I have not yet processed.  The very process of getting out of the Marine Corps has occupied so much of my time that I have not had time to inventory my career, or what it means to make the next step.  I know that this is a transition.  And it is yet another chance to show that despite constantly jumping (or getting thrown off) metaphysical buildings, I am very good at landing on my feet.  

 With my 20/20 hindsight, I know that I will be able to objectively look and see that I have done some very amazing things in the 30 something years I've been on this earth.  (No, I will not divulge exact age.  Even my boss knew better than to do that to a lady :) )
I have had more uphill battles than smooth sailing in the past decade.  I trudged through the Quigly in Quantico, puked my brains from airsickness learning aerobatics in Pensacola, flew 6 days a week and studied close to 20 hours a day to get through the FRS quickly and make it to the fleet in Oceanside, kept my head down and prepared for deployments and forged the path as the first female cobra pilot in my squadron in Jacksonville, worked nights prepping for legislative mark-ups in Washington, DC, and toted congressmen around through multiple timezones, warzones and foreign legislators that may as well have been.  I battled sickness, heartbreak, a crashed housing market and America's enemies simultaneously.  I taught myself to trad climb and ice climb, won triathlons and bike races, moved myself around the country, perfected an orange olive oil cake and got into arguments with people I probably had no business talking to.      

I may be quirky for a Marine Officer.  I love to race my bike, bake cookies, wear sundresses and fold origami cranes.  I'm blunt.  I crash out of "my lane" like a bull in a china shop who's just gone 3 rounds with a rodeo clown.  But I made it work.  My unique brand of independent bluntness and intelligent charm has won over 4 star generals, congressmen, foreign heads of state, ambassadors and various cats and dogs along the way.  Leaving the Hill, two congressmen entered statements for the record on my service.  I received a plethora of hand written notes thanking me for my service.  And I'd like to think that all of this means that the shock of impact from all those times landing on my feet meant something.
Many days I wake up feeling alone.  And like life would be better if it had been easier.  If I hadn't constantly scaled skyscrapers only to try and fly off them I'd have a few less bruised, bumps and broke parts.  And that there has to be a state other than pure exhaustion fueled by adrenaline to live in.  But, to paraphrase Tennyson, Mine is not to make reply, Mine is not to questions why, Mine is but to do and die.
So this morning I leaped off the pinnacle I have spent the past three years climbing.  I'm exhausted.  Everything hurt from the climb.  And I know that there will be a jarring impact when I put my feet down, and it will be time to start climbing again.  But that's the only way I know how to live.  And, besides, I have a little while to enjoy the wind in my hair during this fall before I start bracing for impact.              

Whatever Battens are, they are Killed

Every year in April, hundreds of Elite and Fred cyclists happen upon the booming metropolis of Cambridge, NY to drink chocolate milk and eat donuts. Cambridge is the only place in the universe, however, where one has to don spandex and suffer through the dirt on a toy for 3ish hours before enjoying the bounty of this great village. Honestly, I think that Tour of the Battenkill was created by some sadists dairy farmers who taunted a bunch of gaunt morons by making them chase their dairy wagons for a taste of the chocolate infused deliciousness. And now an entire industry has been developed from annually celebrating this event.

So yes, I did partake in the celebration of this dirt-infused chocolate milk drinking, spandex fest. We won't talk about the result. It was. A combination of JV mistakes in positioning, and mechanicals let to it being a disappointment of the weekend.

But all was not lost. Monika and I planned out our nordic ski career, I got to see lots of old cycling buddies, and I learned about honey badgers and skittles.

Next up Speed Week. Where hopefully all of these lessons will come together.

Everything to gain?

It's probably a good thing not a lot of people read this. Because I may just say too much. With all this getting out of the Marine Corps, moving to a new state, become a student again, racing a lot things going on, I can't help reflecting on choices made, opportunities siezed and missed, and the could of would of should of of life.

My sister and her adorable daughter and my mom were here this weekend. My sister is an amazing mother. She has seamlessly slid into the role. She loves little Ella and lives for her. My mother, too, dotes on the baby, and my sister as the mother of her granddaughter.

But that will never be my life. For both reasons of choices I made myself and those fate made for me, I won't be giving my mother any grandchildren. And while I love being an aunt - getting to introduce little Ella to her first bike, horse, and birthday party - I don't ache for a child of my own to complete me. I ache to race my bike fast. To get my thesis accoepted. To get noticed by an ASD or undersecretary for my ability to contribute to the countrys strategic needs.

And this, somehow, makes me the bad guy as far as women in society are concerned. Sure, mothers tout strong childless women as good role models - examples to their daughters that the sky is the limit - but never want their sons to marry them. Men praise and yes ms'am them at work, but whisper unfounded rumors about their private lives at cocktail parties. Objectively, I've achieved much in the past dozen years of my life. People like to tout those accomplishments, blatantly ignoring that none of them would have been possible had I taken the traditional womanly path.

A dear friend told me the other day "you've lost nothing by kicking life's ass and racing your bike fast." And quickly added "you've probably gained everything.". Well for sweet little Ella's sake, I hope so. Because whatever path she chooses, I hope that neither shoves her into the corner of being the bad guy. She's my niece, and namesake, so if she has everything to gain from what I've done, then it was worth it.

Love is a dirty affair

I did another race at altitude. And it was great. My result was so-so. I haven't seen anything official, but for yesterday, there are far more important things than my finish position. Like the fact I raced my bike hard, and lined up with the best women racers in the country. And the fact that they complimented my racing, and were kind enough not to mention that they dropped the entire rest of the field.

I learned a few great things. That women's racing is not always a race to be slowest. That women's fields are full of incredibly strong athletes who work their ass off all week to rip each others legs off every weekend. That there is a great amount of respect given to this those that work hard in chase groups. That tactics in the final sprint are hard on the dirt.

The course was touch. 60%+ dirt. Headwinds. And, despite what the profile said, nothing was flat, or downhill. I'd preridden it many times. I knew how tough it was going to be. Maybe it was the classic Roubaix footage Dave played that morning, but I was far more excited to race than I had been in a while.

And I felt better than last week. I was able to do a little work onto the dirt sections. I chased my little butt off. And got compliments from the likes of Jennifer Triplett for the work I did.

It was hard. And I'm tired. But after last week, it was a good reminder that I love bike racing.

It's a mean mans world

I just finished reading an article on NPR lamenting the gender confusion of our current pop culture heros, including the epitome of cutting edge femme, Madonna. References as varying as Katniss, from "The Hunger Games," to Lizbeth, "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo," to pop-shocker rapper Nicki Minaj are cited as examples of girls bending gender stereotypes for their own protection.

I'd argue that it's not just for protection, but for success.

The other night I was watching "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" with a buddy of mine. (full disclosure, I've read all three books about half a dozen times each, and was actually pretty excited to couple my favorite books with Daniel Craig) He asked my why I was so engrossed in the story, as I was clearly more interested in watching the movie than an any idle chitchat. "I think I'm Lizbeth," was all I could respond. At a first surfsce glance, the comparison seems laughable; I'm s clean cut Marine, she's a tattooed and pierced computer genius. But strip away the leather and tattoos, and the uniform and no-hair-out-of-place bun, and you have two strikingly similar women. Women who exist in a man's world, women who are more comfortable in solitude, women with unspeakable pasts, women who long for affection, but know that they have a higher calling. Women who may be a little too smart and a little too independent for their own good. Women who men will go to for everything but bringing home to their parents or raising their children.

Personally, I applaud these heros, for giving the modern successful single woman a voice. For asserting that hard work wand determination, not true loves kiss, conquers all. And that getting a job, and taking control of your destiny, even if it means wrestling it to the ground, is sexier than waiting in a bell tower shrieking as some dimwitted prince slays the dragon to save us. "The Hunger Games," is the refreshing anti-"Twilight", a celebration of strength in independence rather than feminine despair and helplessness.

But back to the article. Near the end of it, the author asserts, "It all comes back to the old problem of equality never quite being as close as it seems. Women may be moving into brave new roles, but they're not necessarily doing so in community with each other or with a clearly articulated politics to support the changes they're going through."

Arguably, women will never do this "in community with each other", as their whole reason for entering these roles is to break from community. It may take a village to raise a child, but it takes solitude to find success.

Successful women will never be part of the boys club. Controversy is surrounding the current CEO of IBM (who is.... Wait for it..... A WOMAN) joining a particular golf club. The media still comments on Hillary Clinton's hair. In talking about my time in the Marine Corps to the one I call the "mean mean man", I pontificated a "what if it had been different." He asserted a perspective I never thought about. "You were the first in their world, and here you come running faster and knowing more about everything and doing their job. Did you expect them to greet you with 'oh yay, we're so glad you're here?' You're an achiever, and a doer. And most people don't like that. But fuck them. I'm proud of you." He went on to laud my accomplishments, and get more excited than I am about the prospects for my post-school future. It was strange that this was he validation I needed in this change. That after everything I've done, and still being rejected from the boys club, I could possibly kick ass in the mean mean mans world.

Let's be frenimies

It's been 2 days since I tried my hand at racing with the big girls in Colorado. With a startlist with the likes of Allison Powers, Meridith Miller and a handful of NOW and Tibco racers, and the mile high lack of oxygen, my goal quickly shifted from "kick ass" to finish.

Basic recap: it started fast, got faster, somehow Powers took off off the front and I did everything in my power to hang on. My legs said go. My lungs said hell no.

I brooded and was pissed the next morning. I grumbled at my coach. He said "you could stay home and dominate races, or you can come here, get our ass kicked, and be friends with me again in he fall".

So I went home and slept all day yesterday. And most of today. And tomorrow I'll go back to getting my ass kicked and look towards getting stronger. And fall when I am friends with Jim again, I'll look back at this summer of change and know it made me better.

Dream.... Or puke my nerves out

I race in 4 hrs. And so I've had the past 5 or so hours to fret about it. To feel like I want to vomit and pee my pants. To sit in Dave's kitchen and cry about all the terror that this change is bringing to me. To wonder what Colorado girls are like now that I've arrived here to race. In short, to loose my shit in no less than seventeen different ways.

I've been in Denver for the last few days doing school stuff, and after spending a few days on campus I know the decision I made was right. Both Ambassador Chris Hill and General George Casey have spent time expressing how excited they are for me to be there and inviting me to come sit in on their classes. The director of the Sie Center has invited me to interview for a research position to work with Secretary Rice. The work I've done professionally the past decade is paying off. The right movers and shakers are noticing.

But I still can't help from experiencing gut wrenching breakdowns on a fairly regular basis. This may largely be due to the fact that I have no idea what I want to do after school so I channel my angst and anxiety into this like a training Crit in Colorado.

A few years ago I got a fortune at a silly chain Chinese restaurant:

I carried this around with me for quite a while. It sat in my wallet until it was a shred of paper. I kept it because I know that I am a doer, and I always wanted to be seen as a dreamer. Holding on to this, I clinged to the hope that my does were actually a result of dreams. But try as I may, I had a hard time ever thinking of any of my accomplishments as starting as a dream. They always seemed things expected. Graduating from Georgetown, racing a boat, earning my commission and wings, flying attack helicopters, leading members of congress around the world, escorting 4star generals to meetings with congressmen, racing my bike, getting accepted to the top 5 grad programs in the country, earning a fellowship... All these things happened because there wasn't an option for them to not. Maybe vision and determinations are different than dreams, of maybe I'm not giving dreams enough credit.

Or maybe I should dream of simpler things, like how cute my shoes look next to another pair

And learn to realize that these things take doing as well. Maybe my dreams don't have to encompass what's going to happen after school just yet, and can focus on figuring out what to cook for dinner next week since I'll have someone to cook for for a few more days.

Or to not die of altitude deprivation racing today. Cause I still have to go race my bike in 4 hrs....

And if I don't dream about something there's a distinct possibility that the nervous energy I have right now will cumbust into an outburst capable of powering the state of Colorado.

I'm either pushing 10million watts or auditioning for the circus

If this whole bike racing thing doesn’t pan out for me, I’m going to audition for Cirque de Soleil. I have an amazing “I can stay upright while my bike explodes under me” act.

Black Hills started uneventfully enough. I managed to remain calm during the start, resisting the urge to start singing “I’m Sexy and I Know It” to my teammate in reference to how hot our rainboots are. I stayed near the front, and, after However, after about a lap and a half, I noticed I could no longer shift into the big ring, and that my bottom bracket was making the most godawful noise that was probably heard in Canada, and next thing I knew my left crank arm was attached to my shoe, but no longer to the bike. This made finishing the race a fear next to impossibility, as even hike-a-biking was out of the question. Prior to the catastrophic breakage, I was feeling strong. Made a counter on one of Lindsay’s moves to try and work the field over. Who knows how it would have ended up had I been able to stay in it with Lindsay and XO had two pair of legs working together. Maybe it was that monster move that destroyed the cranks with me bike-breaking power. Maybe I overlooked something in pre-bike checks and should have given more heed to small creaks and whines. Or maybe the race gods were mocking my wearing of rain boots even after the rain had stopped, and, in punishment gave me my first DNF.

So race one ends with more questions than answers. I will constantly play out what could have been until I race again. I’ll wonder if my feeling good was just early race adrenaline, or if I honestly have the strength to go for the long haul.

But Sunday wasn’t all bad. I got to watch my teammate win the sprint, see several awesome racing buddies that I’ve been missing during my focused winter hibernation, and relive that “I have to pee again” feeling that occurs no less than 80 times in the 15 min leading up to a start.

On to test my legs at altitude for a bit now. And hopefully not perfect my circus act.

"If it's raining, just show up to the starting line smiling and you've won half the race"

Now just for that other half...

A million and one Parts of Me

I have a confession. I love bad pop music. Love, as in scream Top 40 at the top of my lungs while driving. Love, as in annoy many training partners singing it during rest periods (or long rides). Love, as in bombard my teammate with the "best new bad lyric" of the day. I know it has no musical value. And is akin to the nutritional value gained from my love of fake whipped cream on hot chocolate.
I never expect to gain anything from this guilty pleasure. Nor to actually applaud a pop artist for doing anything positive.
So imagine my surprise when I saw this

My coworkers (all Marines) and I watched this the day it came out, and all had the unanimous thought of "this should be a recruiting video." For the first time I can remember, something in the pop-realm made me proud to be a Marine. In the mist of you-tube videos of Marine urinating on Taliban bodies, documentaries on the atrocities of sexual assault at our showcase Barracks, and lawmakers pointing fingers at senior leadership about hazing, suicide and drug & alcohol abuse, the Corps is due for a little good press, even if it's from a pop-star.

And while my time in the Marine Corps has been must less than video-worthy (I mean, I can't quite sing and dance like her, and have yet to find someone willing to follow me around with a camera and edit my life into a 4 minute star-spangled extravaganza), I applaud Ms. Perry for bringing a few truths to light for the sugar-pop community.

First, Katy, thank you for not sexifying the uniform. Far too often, we are presented with images of pop stars or celebuants in cropped shorts and cammo belly-shirts, sporting fishnets and thigh high replicas of combat boots, toting plastic rifles in the name of "being patriotic." I'm not sure what would happen if I decided to alter my uniform as such, however I'm pretty confidant that they would not see it as a love of country. In breaking from this mold, the California Girl traded icecream-cone bras for USMC-issued cammies and skivvy shirts with no modification whatsoever.

But more important than the aesthetics is the message of the video: The "part of me" that no one can take is that part that is not afraid to do something hard for the greater good. As I said in a previous post, I'm at a transition point in my life, and wrestling with what it will all mean once I am out. But as I am transition, I know that there is a part of me that cannot be changed or taken. It's the part of me that gave myself to service. The part of me that through heartbreak and headache, loneliness and overwhelming crowds, overworked days and sleepless nights knew deep down that nothing I was doing was for me, and yet it was all mine.

When I look at the next year - hell, when I look at the next day - there are a million and one things I feel that I have to do that I want to hide from. Tomorrow I am racing my bike, and a million and one pedal strokes make me want to cringe. Next week I'm going to Colorado to learn more about my school life, do a little solo training camp, and spend time learning more about the boy's world and make up for months of phone calls getting to look into his eyes when I talk to him. A million and one seconds of unknown moments. Next year I'm moving and becoming a student and racing my bike in a new land. And I feel like I've spent a million and one moments preparing for it, yet know nothing at all. I want to know that I will race well enough for my new team, be creative and sharp enough for my new school, and be the light of my new boy's life. But this will all take a million and one more moments to figure out. And, in the mean time, I'll just hold on to that part of me that's all mine.

To think.... all of this was spurred by a silly pop song.